#hideout in a hollowed out tree

[manticore239]

FTL

[bvidzsoo]

Haunted me, haunting you

⁀➷ District 12 ⭒ District 12 was the smallest and poorest of the thirteen districts of Panem; their main industry is coal mining; victors: Lucy Gray Baird, Haymitch Abernathy, Katniss Everdeen, Peeta Mellark

Author: bvidzsoo

Pairing: victor!Song Mingi x female reader

⁀➷ Warning: cursing, ptsd, panic attacks, violence, blood, mentions of death, hunting, injuries ⁀➷ Word count: 19.7k ⁀➷ Rating: mature, nc-17 ⁀➷ Genre: Hunger Games!au; acquittances since childhood to lovers!au, set before Katniss and Peeta became victors ⁀➷ Summary: After the 72nd Hunger Games, Song Mingi wasn't the same. The spark in his eyes was gone, his once bright smile disappeared and his face became ashen, cheeks hollow, he was merely a shell of the man he once used to be. It hurt seeing him lose himself to the trauma he was forced to endure in the Arena, still haunted by memories...memories of killing someone you both cared about, someone who meant the world to you. Will you be able to help Mingi before it's too late? But most importantly, will Mingi be able to let you in when you bear the very same face he was forced to murder in the Arena in order to become a victor?

A/N: Y'all! My lovelies, it's here!! My thesis was about The Hunger Games and I actually came up with the plot back in like...May?? Uh, anyways, no more gatekeeping this story too lmao, let's all thank Choi San for his appearance this weekend at fashion week, because his outfits inspired me to finally write this oneshot and also come up with a story for him, so, stay tuned! ^^ This piece is actually so very dear to me, I absolutely loved writing it and I just really want to hug Mingi in this, so I really hope you'll love it and enjoy it as much as I did while writing. If I forgot to mention any warnings, let me know so that I can fix it, and sorry for any mistakes, they do slip through sometimes when I proofread. Let me know what you thought of this oneshot, your feedback is always greatly appreciated! Enjoy now! ^^ divider

            His hair was outgrown again, black strands fell into his small and sharp eyes, obscuring them from the world. He had a certain crazed haze in them, irises shaking as the warm brown was overtaken by darkness, a never-ending blackness. The meadow was silent apart from the breeze rustling the leaves, twigs snapping underneath the weight of our feet if we didn’t watch where we stepped. It was quiet apart from the surprised sound I had made and his pants, hurried and frantic as if he was still trying to catch his breath, as if he was frightened by my mere presence. And perhaps he was as our weapons pointed at each other. My hideout had been behind a large bush while his had been behind a tree, wide enough to hide his tall and lanky form. You wouldn’t be able to tell he had lost weight due to the excessive clothes he always wore, but if you knew where to look, you’d spot his sunken collarbones and sharp cheekbones, hands decorated with veins that popped out and a jawline that seemed unnaturally sharp.

My body finally relaxed as it registered no danger, my arm going lax as I lowered my bow and arrow. It took a few more seconds for the man standing in front of me to mirror my actions, eyebrows furrowed deeply with conflict on his face. I knew why he was looking at me like that, a striking reminder of the crimes he was forced to commit, but I didn’t let that deter me from the kindness I always showed to him.

“Hello,” I spoke up softly, mindful of the animals around us and the fact that he was here to hunt too, “I’m sorry for startling you.”

He didn’t speak up, he rarely did when he was in my vicinity—not that he spoke much around people ever since the Games—but that didn’t throw me off from continuously treating him like a human being, something he was, had always been, will continue being. I knew many didn’t treat him like that anymore, everyone threw him glares and spat harsh words at him, but the absent look in his eyes never changed. It was like he wasn’t really there.

“Are you just starting your hunt, by chance?” I questioned, placing my arrow in its holster as I continued holding onto my bow. Despite having lowered his weapon—a bow and arrow, as well—his fingers still curled tightly around the butt of the arrow, almost as if his body refused to relax in my presence. I understood why.

“No.” I tried not to show my surprise when he answered verbally, his voice a low rasp and a deep rumble in his chest. It hadn’t always been like that, when we were younger, his voice used to be squeaky almost like a mouse and oftentimes shrill when he giggled or laughed.

“I have just come out to hunt,” I continued, keeping the soft smile on my lips, but he wasn’t looking at me anymore as I watched him struggle to release his arrow, “Would you like to join me?”

He stiffened again, and I knew why, but his movements became frantic all of a sudden, the arrow slipped in its holster and the bow was back around his wide shoulders. He looked up, face almost pained as he stared at mine deeply, then he shook his head. I didn’t move nor say anything as he suddenly took off, feet tangling in weed and almost sending him flying onto the floor of the forest, but I didn’t help him. I knew he’d hate it, he didn’t let anyone touch him, so I just stayed put and willed myself to watch him as he just barely regained his balance. I wanted to help, but he didn’t allow me, he never has and never will. The meadow was wide, covered in lush green weeds, trees, bushes and colourful flowers, fallen twigs and leaves, logs and rocks, but he still came towards me, not avoiding my body. It was new, most of the time he’d walk around me and not even spare me another glance, but today his eyes were piercing and his stance held more confidence than I have seen in him ever since the Games. My smile didn’t slip off my lips, I was grateful that he wasn’t so keen on avoiding me anymore. But still, almost as if he realized what he was doing, his steps veered away and he went around me just last minute, the fabric of his forest green jacket brushing against my knuckles. I swallowed, nervous for no reason as I turned my head to look after him, “Goodbye, Mingi.”

He flinched when I said his name, he always did and perhaps always will, but instead of ignoring me he looked back too, jaw clenched, but he offered a silent greeting with a nod of his head. My smile widened and his eyes did too at the motion, then he paled, body visibly shaking as he suddenly took off in a sprint, leaving my heart aching and hands trembling as he disappeared from view, my legs giving out as I sat on the muddy floor of the forest. I couldn’t blame him, I never did and I never will, but he made it infinitely harder to cope with the pain of having lost my twin sister because of him.

            The hunt had been successful, I managed to catch four wild ducks, which meant plenty of good coins for a tasty dinner for three. I have started training to become a nurse around a year ago, right after losing my sister, and that meant we were tight on money. I couldn’t say my family struggled much despite being from District 12, but after my sister’s death, it felt like things had slowed down. Money started coming in rather scarcely and it made me realize that she had been an important contributor to our income. Unable to sit back and watch my parents struggle, I decided to follow her path. It had been her dream to become a nurse, to reach the Capitol and become a great doctor, but the Games took both her and her dream away from us. It was a hard blow, it was hard because Mingi could’ve sacrificed himself for a woman who had a whole future planned ahead of herself unlike him, who failed to finish school in his last year and was supposed to work in a mine for the rest of his life. He was selfish, scared, and desperate to remain alive, all reasonable emotions when you’re faced with the choice to kill someone or be killed.

I never blamed him for killing my twin sister, I never hated him for being selfish and shooting his arrow straight into her heart. At least she left this terrifying world quickly and painlessly. I never wished death upon Mingi when my mother wailed while my father held her in his arms and rocked her, sobbing just as loudly as her when the camera span on my sister’s lifeless eyes and face. I never blamed Mingi for her death because he sobbed just as hard as us after the kill, holding her frail frame in his arms as he screamed towards the sky, words unheard as the cameras didn’t record audio too. I didn’t blame him when I found refuge in the meadow my sister loved so much, curled up in a ball in the tall grass as I cried loudly, chest aching and ears ringing until nightfall, when I finally felt empty and numb. And I still didn’t blame him when he returned home, crowned as the winner of last year’s Hunger Games, rewarded with so much money it would last him generations and a house at the Victor’s Village so big three families could fit inside. And despite the pain I felt when the train came to a screeching halt and he got off with empty eyes and sunken cheeks, our eyes meeting for a brief moment, I couldn’t hate him or blame him because the Song Mingi once everyone had known was gone.

The sky had turned darker as the sun hid behind the trees, the moon taking its place in the sky as mist settled upon the forests that surrounded our district. And despite the nightfall, the Hob was alive and buzzing with people who were desperate to trade their goods in exchange for some coins in order to survive another day. The four wild ducks I had caught, I had cut up and taken their feathers off, were displayed on the small table I managed to fetch from behind the building that has seen better days, and I set it up next to an old lady who sold trinkets and jewellery that looked older than even her. I have promised to give her the smaller duck in trade for a silver bracelet that had one pearl. I had never seen a pearl up close, and despite knowing that I’d never wear it, I’d figure out eventually what I wanted to do with it. Perhaps I’ll give it as a gift to my father, since it looked way too big for a woman’s wrist, or perhaps I’ll bring it to my sister’s grave and leave it as a gift to her. I didn’t dwell on the thought much.

The Hob was well-lit despite the old lamps that hung above our heads, and the late summer chill had settled inside, prompting everyone to wear their warmer clothes. I had accepted the battered blanket the old lady handed me when she saw me shivering, and promised to return tomorrow with ointment for her cut-up hands. I couldn’t tell whether she had nobody to look out for her or if her family had simply abandoned her, but I have promised myself after my sister’s death that I would help those who needed help yet couldn’t pay with coins for my services. A flower, cheese and bread, or even a small trinket would be good enough for me, I’d make use of it if it meant I helped a soul that needed attention and care.

Three ducks still sat on the table in front of me and I smiled warmly at everyone who wandered towards me, hungry eyes fixating on the ducks. The man that stood in front of me was a mine worker, I knew him because he worked with my father numerous times before.

“Hello, sir.” I greeted him and his eyes briefly looked up at me.

“Your father must be proud of you for helping out,” He muttered under his breath as he scratched his already irritated neck, “he speaks of you a lot on our breaks. How much for one duck?”

“Five coins will do, sir,” I answered him politely, but as he looked inside his pouch his face had turned ashen, then furious.

“Five is too much, child, who do you think can pay so much?” His voice turned harsh, and the lady next to me cast a glance our way.

“I’m sorry, sir, but I risk my life stepping outside the boundaries of our district, five coins are cheap for my sacrifices and the duck.” I didn’t let him waver my resolve, I knew how people were here. They would try to trick their way out of paying the worth of the items, and I wouldn’t fall for his manipulations. But the man seemed displeased as his fist came down on the table, making me jump. I wasn’t a violent person, but I was glad for the knife that was hidden underneath my clothes, pressing against my hip as a reminder that it was there. The old lady now looked at us, eyebrows furrowing.

“Maybe you should return to your little nursing school and fuck off to the Capitol like your sister had—”

“If you cannot pay five coins, walk along!” The old lady snapped next to me, eyes hardened and voice raised as it turned heads, curious eyes watching the tense exchange. The man threw her a glance and scoffed before he reached inside his pouch and retrieved the coins I had asked for, throwing them on the table as he grabbed one duck and stalked off. I sighed but gave the old lady a thankful smile and collected the coins, crouching down to retrieve one as it had tumbled to the ground. The cacophony of the market seemed to quieten at once until it turned into just murmurs, and I stood back up with a confused look on my face. I was a bit far from the entrance of the Hob and couldn’t see far ahead due to the number of people inside, but when the crowd started parting for a certain person, I understood their reaction.

Despite the camouflage he tried wearing, his clean and thick clothes managed to make him stick out like a sore thumb, his small eyes sharper now that the lower half of his face was concealed by a black silk scarf. He still wore the same jacket as earlier today, a satchel bag sitting against his hip as he wandered further inside the market. People whispered behind his back and stepped aside when he came too close, and I watched as people glared at him behind his back, pointing fingers and no doubt throwing insults at him. I wondered if people from other districts treated their Victors the same way people here treated Mingi. Maybe it was because my sister was a beloved figure in our district, a professional healer and always kind to everyone, maybe it was because Mingi had lost himself halfway into the games and murdered those who crossed his path viciously. Behind all the stares, glares and whispers lay something deeper. It was fear because people were reminded of their animalistic side, of who they could turn into when faced with the question of whether they wanted to live or die. They were scared because everyone knew they would do the same Mingi had done, kill an innocent and kind person in order to survive.

It was almost as if the market had frozen over when Mingi finally reached my humble table, silence so loud it irked my ears as everyone watched on edge our exchange. His eyes didn’t settle on my face for long, reluctant to look at me when so many were watching us, but I just smiled and looked at him with kindness, “Good evening, Mingi.”

I could hear gasps even, mouths hanging open as the Victor halted in front of the ducks I managed to hunt, eyes sweeping over them as if he did a quick count in his head. Even if minuscule, his eyes conveyed surprise and somewhat admiration when we looked up at me again, but upon seeing my smile, his eyes steeled, becoming devoid of any emotion. He nodded his head once in acknowledgement, then swiftly walked off, eyes set on a table that was littered with old and new weapons alike. Mingi had the money to buy the best of the best, but he always came to the Hob, late at night, probably hoping fewer people would be here. He could afford luxuries, but he preferred helping out those in need. He never said anything when they demanded more of him, he just wordlessly handed them the coins and left with a quiet ‘Thank you’. People catalogued him as selfish and ruthless, but he was deeply caring and rather selfless. It all mattered on the perspective you had of him and whether you wanted to spot the good in him or not.

Once Mingi was on his way towards other stalls and tables, the market seemed to regain its liveliness while remaining aware and alert of his presence amongst the crowd. Nobody approached him and nobody spoke to him, the vendors gave him second glances and seemed reluctant to acknowledge him despite the money they knew he could offer them. My eyes remained on his tall form, his shoulders hunched forward, as people passed by my table, sometimes stopping to inquire about the price of the wild ducks. A girl, too young to be here, bounced towards my table as she held onto her mother’s hand, eyes stuck on the ducks. My heart ached at the sight of her frail frame and the ghastliness of her mother’s face, and when she tried to veer her daughter away because they barely had any money, I cleared my throat and stepped around the table.

“Hello,” I greeted them kindly, and smiled at the girl as her eyes shone with enthusiasm, “Would you like to buy some wild duck?”

“We don’t have enough money, sorry.” The mother muttered embarrassed and I quickly shook my head.

“Well, you’re in luck tonight then, because I’m not looking for money.” I have acquired ten coins as I have sold two ducks, and while I still needed at least ten more, everyone had to make sacrifices and I wasn’t about to let them walk away without the duck in a bag and in their hands.

“But—”

“Come.” I beckoned the little girl towards myself, disregarding the mother as her eyes widened, “Which one would you like?”

I crouched down to be at the same height as the girl and she smiled widely at me, eyes sweeping over the two ducks that have remained on the table. She stuck her tongue out as she seemed to analyse both, then pointed to the larger one and I grinned back at her.

“That’s a good one,” I said with a chuckle and the girl shyly ran back to her mom to hide behind her skirt. I grabbed a paper bag and carefully placed the duck inside of it as the mother’s eyes followed my every move.

“I cannot accept this.” She tried to refuse but I was having none of it as I handed the bag to the little girl instead.

“You can.” I said with a reassuring smile, “My mother is looking for a seamstress, perhaps you can help her out sometime?”

I knew the woman was a seamstress whose business wasn’t flourishing anymore, but she was still clinging on to it, trying to do her best as she raised her daughter. Nobody knew who her father was and they had been treated harshly ever since she was born. Tears sprung into the mother’s eyes and she bowed her head deeply, “Thank you, I’ll make sure to do a good job. Bring in your clothes too, if they need fixing.”

“I sure will, thank you.” I bowed back and looked at the little girl, “Do you like pies?”

“I do!” She exclaimed happily and I chuckled.

“Well, then, I’ll see you two sometime next week with a pie and three dresses.” The mother bowed her head again and thanked me as a tear fell down her cheek, then she veered her daughter towards the exit as she blabbered on about how she loved duck meat the most. With a content smile on my lips, I walked back behind my table as I felt eyes on me. The old lady had a thoughtful look on her face as I faced her, and then she looked towards the crowd and sighed loudly.

“Your parents have raised you well, both you and your sister.” The old lady said and I nodded, agreeing with her, “She was kind too, but you are kinder, my dear. You have never expected anything in exchange for your actions, ever since you were little.”

“If we don’t stick together, then who will help us out?” I asked, eyebrows furrowing and my mood souring, “Surely not President Snow and the people from the Capitol, right?”

The old lady gave me a long look as she hummed, eyes looking back onto the crowd as I heard someone yelp. Curious, I turned my head and tried to pinpoint whoever had called out in fright, but the crowd was big and I couldn’t see anyone.

“Be brave and honest, but careful, even the walls have ears, my dear.” The old lady advised as men started shouting, the crowd crying out in fright again as suddenly it started dispersing not far from us, the people hid behind tables and next to vendors as another man exclaimed in pain. My eyebrows furrowed as I perked up, walking around my table as the crowd was clearing and I could almost see what was happening up ahead.

“What is the matter—” My eyes widened when I realized someone had Mingi’s torso pressed against a table, face down, wrists held behind his back as he struggled to break free as he hissed and glared viciously. My eyes widened as suddenly he kicked his leg backwards, and the man holding him folded over in pain as he released the Victor, scrambling back as Mingi whirled around with a wild look in his eyes, hands held out protectively in front of himself. The crowd steeled for a second, my heartbeat quickening as I realized he had the same look in his eyes as earlier today. Then, almost at once, three men jumped forward and tried to restrain him as Mingi pulled a knife from his pocket, sneering at whoever jumped at him, his chest rising and falling rapidly. I didn’t know what led to this altercation, but something felt wrong. Mingi was inoffensive, he never attacked first and he wouldn’t even hurt a fly even if it bothered him. Someone must’ve done or said something that made him so defensive.

But the men didn’t care as more women screamed, and I gripped the edge of my table as they jumped towards him, trying to take him down. Mingi was alone and despite being strong, he couldn’t defend himself against three men who were stronger and really angry. The way he held his knife was obvious enough that he didn’t intend to harm anyone, it was obvious enough to me that he was scared. My heart leapt into my chest as a man jumped at him from behind, unseen by almost everyone, an arm going around Mingi’s neck as the one to his right slapped the knife out of his tight hold. Then, his knees were kicked out from underneath him and he fell with a terrified cry, trashing around as the men tried to restrain his frantic movements. I took off without realizing my legs were taking me in their direction, heart beating fast as my ears rang, head aching the more Mingi’s cries started sounding less aggressive and more scared, but nobody seemed to hear them or care about them.

I pushed people out of the way, unapologetic and frantic, running around tables and jumping over crates as they were in my way, the only goal in my mind to reach him. Held down like that, his eyes were wide and filled with helplessness, the same look had been reflected in my sister’s when she had been shot in the heart. Mingi was still trashing around but his body was trembling now and it was audible that he was struggling to breathe. My body was lit with deep anger as I realized everyone was feeding off of his fear instead of realizing he was having a panic attack. The last person I pushed aside gave me a look and went to grab at me, but I threw them a menacing glare before I broke free of the crowd finally, panting as the attention was on both Mingi and me now. The men who held him were smirking and mocking him, but a look of confusion crossed their faces when I stood in front of them, frantic and desperate to stop this.

“Stop it!” I snapped, voice a lot more high-pitched than I expected it to be, “Let go of him!”

“He’s like a rabid dog,” One man hissed, “Like hell, are we releasing him. He’ll hurt us—”

“I said,” My voice held danger as I itched to grab my knife and hold it threateningly towards the men, “let him fucking go!”

And if my scream didn’t chill the onlookers, then Mingi’s helpless whimper did as his eyes screwed shut tightly, even his head shaking as he struggled to breathe. I didn’t wait for the men to listen to me as I scrambled towards Mingi, falling to my knees with a loud thud as my knees shook from the impact, but I didn’t care as he was finally released. He flinched and tried to flee, but my cold fingertips traced his forehead as his eyes snapped open, wide and shaking as they bore into mine.

“It’s okay,” My voice was quiet and gentle, assuring, “I’m going to take this off.”

I gently grabbed the scarf that covered his nose and lips, and a strong hand suddenly grabbed at my bicep. The men tried to touch Mingi again, but I threw them a warning look.

“You’ll be able to breathe better, Mingi,” I said with the same softness as the grip on my arm continued to tighten, but Mingi didn’t object as I slowly pulled the scarf off his lower face. He gasped and clung onto me with both hands now, lips trembling as his body shook. He looked smaller than he was, he looked on the verge of passing out. With a shaky breath, I traced his thick eyebrows and brushed his long bangs out of his eyes as I offered him the smallest smile.

“Mingi, what we’ll do next is easy, alright?” He gasped as he was hyperventilating, but his eyes were stuck to my lips, “We’ll breathe together, alright? We inhale big and exhale long, good? You’re safe, Mingi.”

I didn’t know how much my words managed to reach his mind, but I started taking big inhales and long exhales, hoping that he’d soon follow my lead. People gawked at us and murmured, horrified that I was helping the man who mercilessly killed my twin sister. I didn’t care, Mingi was human too and he was suffering. It was right in front of their noses, the fact that he was still struggling and paying the consequences of his actions, but nobody seemed to actually care that he wasn’t just a rich and scary Victor now.

“In,” I inhaled, holding Mingi’s cold face in my hands as his fingers dug into my cardigan, “Out.”

And he was slowly catching on to how to breathe in and out, his chest expanding and then falling back as he emptied his lungs. His body was shaking and he would still whimper or become smaller when someone made a sound too loud, but I was here, and I was determined to help him regain his senses, regain himself. It took him a few good minutes, but his frantic breaths have found a new rhythm, much calmer and quieter than before, inhaling and exhaling at the same time with me. A small smile crossed my face when I realized he was slowly returning to himself, my thumbs gently rubbed the skin under his eyes, trying to bring the smallest form of comfort. His grip relaxed around my biceps and his body leaned towards mine as if it was trying to drink in my warmth, I let him nuzzle his face into my hands as his body finally stopped trembling. The people around us went quiet and I gulped, trying to keep my composure in front of everyone. I was mad, I was angry and I wanted to scream at them for treating him like an animal, for caging him in and making him feel like he was in danger, like he was back in the arena once again, triggering a panic attack and probably unwanted memories that he tried to bury deep down.

“You’re safe, Mingi.” His eyes snapped open and bore into mine, irises expanded and still alarmed as he took breaths through his mouth, hands slipping down from my biceps to my wrists. His grip was painful and I understood that he wanted my hands off his skin, so I pulled them back into my lap, but he didn’t let go of me just yet. His eyes were shaking again, tears sprung into them and he gulped, subtly shaking his head. He had become paler than he was before, and I knew the crowd was too much, the eyes and the whispers, the fingers that were pointed at us and the sneers, the judgemental stares. I gripped his wrists back and stood, looking down at Mingi as I silently asked him to stand as well.

His eyes continued boring into mine, face ashen, but at least he knew he was safe as long as he didn’t let go of me.

            The petals of the soft pink flower felt dainty underneath my fingertips as I gently traced them, a small smile on my lips as I inhaled their scent before rearranging the bouquet in the vase. I had brought them in from the meadow just yesterday, so they were still fresh and flourishing. The meadow was full of the pinkish coloured Musk Mallows which was my twin sister’s favourite flower. She’d always gush about their softness and beauty, collecting a small bouquet for herself to decorate her grim side of our shared room. I wasn’t fond of the flower at first, its smell irritating my nostrils, but with the passing of years and sneaking to the meadow before sunset, I started loving their familiarity. The meadow was peaceful, quiet, and far away from the Peacekeepers and the grey haze of District 12. It was a reminder of what our Earth must’ve looked like before the nuclear war destroyed it and forced it to become what Panem is today.

The pink flowers reminded me of freedom and of my sister, of a dream that was possible to achieve if you never gave up and fought for it. It reminded me of love and laughter and the look on my sister’s face whenever she cradled it to her chest, of the chastising of our parents for sneaking out once again, but the fondness on their faces when my sister and I would sprint to our rooms giggling and talking about going to the meadow again tomorrow to make flower crowns for our mother and father. It reminded me of tender touches and a quiet love that you didn’t have to talk about or scream it out into the world for everyone to see it or understand it, it reminded me of a toothy smile and small eyes that once used to laugh, of sneaked glances and shy looks passed between classes.

The deep voice of my father's and my mother’s gentler one carried outside of their room, all the way to the kitchen as I changed the flowers’ water, my parents’ murmur gentle and warm. The water was cold against my skin and it made me shiver despite the warm summer breeze that came inside through the open window, and I smiled when I heard footsteps coming into the kitchen. My father was dressed in his overalls, his tools in a handbag and a cap low over his eyes as my mother came following him outside, fussing about the hole in his jacket’s arm. Their love had always been quiet and subtle, it was always about noticing the small things, about doing something quietly for the other one.

“Don’t worry, a small hole won’t make me feel cold down in the mine.” My father’s voice held amusement as he grabbed the jacket out of my mother’s hands. I rearranged the flowers in the vase once I was satisfied with the amount of water inside the glass, and chanced a glance in my parents’ direction.

“But it will seem like your wife is unable to sew it for you,” My mother’s eyebrows were furrowed and I chuckled quietly, picking out seven pink flowers from the bouquet.

“And isn’t that true?” Teasing bordered my father’s tone as he gave my mother a cheeky smile, and she looked away with an embarrassed huff, “Don’t worry, nobody will notice it. It’s rather dark down there.”

“Do you remember the small pink and purple boutique at the square?” I perked up, gaining my parents’ attention as if they were oblivious to my presence.

“The lady who has a daughter now?” My mother asked as she fixed my father’s collar, remaining close by his side.

“Yes, hers.” I nodded, then crouched down to place the flowers I picked out of the vase inside my basket, “She owes me a small favour, we should bring our faulty clothes to her.”

“I heard she’s been struggling,” My father trailed off as he looked at me, but not for too long, then grabbed my mother’s hand, “well then, why not? Everyone needs some coins to make due.”

“Right.” My mother nodded with a smile as I grabbed my basket and mentally prepared myself for a good enough excuse, “We should visit her, then, sometime this week—Y/N, where are you going, honey?”

I froze in front of the front door and tried to look as innocent as possible, “I’ll stop by at a house before I head to the Nursery, one of my patients was sick lately.”

“In the middle of summer?” My father asked with confusion, eyes straying from my face when I looked at him sadly.

“Some old people are barely hanging on, dad.” I muttered but shook off the grim thought, “I’ll see you tonight, right?”

“Sure, take care of yourself.” He said gently and I nodded, eyeing my mother as her fingers curled around my father’s arm just a bit tighter. Working in a mine had always been dangerous, it had always taken away lives way too abruptly and painfully.

“See you, then.” I waved at my parents and they smiled, proud but with sadness bordering their eyes as they never looked at me for too long. I understood why. The face which was mine hadn’t always been just mine, it had once been my twin sister’s too, even if slightly different. I didn’t blame them like I didn’t blame Mingi, and I never got angry at them like I never got angry at Mingi. Everyone suffered and coped in their own way with loss, and when things got too difficult to bear anymore, I knew I would find solace in the meadow that reminded me so much of my sister.

The walk to the Victor’s Village wasn’t too long, but it was midday and the streets were littered with people going on about their day. I greeted those who offered me smiles and I stopped to talk with those who needed my advice as a nurse. Young children laughed and screamed in the courtyard as I passed by the school, pleasant memories flooding my mind as a young girl clung to the gates and waved at me with a giggle. It reminded me of when I tried to scale the gate in order to prove that I was strong, only to fall and twist my ankle as I tried not to wail, but instead swallow the pain and smile when my classmates started fussing over me. It had been—an already—tall and lanky figure that pushed everyone aside with worry on his face as he came to kneel next to me, thick eyebrows furrowed as he clumsily grabbed my leg, applying pressure where it hurt most. I cried out, scaring everyone, and they started shouting at the boy, trying to pull him away from me as they accused him of hurting me, but I didn’t want him to go. His touch was warm and gentle, scared but willing to help, and I only stopped throwing a fit when the other children left him alone and made him pick me up and carry me to the Nursery that was close by. His voice was still scratchy back then, but it was soft and friendly, “You’re safe, Y/N.”

Nervous for no reason, I readjusted the collar of my lavender-coloured dress and then knocked against the perfectly white door, the air a bit clearer over here. The Victor’s Village was just by the borders of District 12, meaning that it was closer to the forest and meadow I loved so much. It was always silent here, and it smelled of flowers and baked goods whenever the Song’s front door was open to let the fresh air in. Only two houses were inhibited inside the Village and at night it could seem eery, almost haunted by all the lives lost in the Hunger Games. But my irrational nervousness came to a stop when the front door opened and an elderly smiling face welcomed me on the other side.

“Oh, my dear,” The elder woman, Mrs. Song, had a surprised look on her face, “I didn’t expect to see you so soon!”

After everything that’s happened at the Hob last night, I wouldn’t have abandoned Mingi, leave him alone to deal with the aftereffects of his panic attack. I stuck to his side and walked him back to the Victor’s Village as no words were exchanged between us, but the fact that he didn’t shuffle too far from my body was the confirmation I needed that he appreciated my presence and persistence. I was a nurse in training, after all, and he was just a person fighting against the demons inside his mind.

“It was due time I brought you a new ointment, Mrs. Song.” I said with a smile as Mingi’s grandmother beckoned me inside, “And I picked fresh flowers yesterday, I figured they would look nice in your kitchen or living room.”

The old lady’s face lit up upon hearing about the flowers, and I had just barely stepped out of my sandals when her hand gripped my wrist and pulled me after herself. Despite the house being managed by an elderly couple and their grandchild, it was in perfect condition and always pristine clear. I have offered to help them out more often, but Mrs. Song had always said that they were doing fine and capable of handling the huge house on their own. I didn’t want to push them or make them feel incapable since they had Mingi back now, thankfully, and they wouldn’t need another pair of hands to help out. While my sister and Mingi were in the Games, I frequently stopped by the Song’s small house to help the elderly couple with anything I could. Sometimes I cooked for them, other times I helped scrub the house clean, and when their legs hurt too much, I would sell their baked goods at the market and bring back the coins for them.

“You’re so sweet,” Mrs. Song mused as she directed me towards the large table in the kitchen, “Take a seat, I made some apple pie just this morning, it’s my Mingi’s favourite. Would you like some too?”

“I wouldn’t want to take it away from him, then, since it’s his favourite—”

“Nonsense.” Mrs. Song waved her hand, hurrying to take a plate and fork, “That boy is so tall but so skinny. He barely eats anything lately, my dear, what should I do to bring back his appetite?”

It’s been almost a year since his Games, and sometimes I found myself throwing up after eating, my sister’s lifeless eyes flashing behind my eyes, a constant reminder that she wasn’t here anymore. That she wouldn’t go to the Capitol and that she wouldn’t become a nurse, never to hunt again or lay in the flower field at the meadow.

“Just be gentle and patient with him, Mrs. Song,” I placed the basket on the table and opened it, “I can’t guarantee he’ll ever be fine, but he’s doing better. I can see it in his eyes.”

“He’s still haunted by memories,” Mrs. Song whispered defeated as I grabbed the flowers and the tin can of ointment for her leg, “but he doesn’t wake up from nightmares so often anymore.”

“He’ll get better with time, he’ll eventually stop blaming himself.” I whispered as I headed towards Mrs. Song, who had paused and had her head lowered, “He’s lucky to have you and Mr. Song, and you’re doing everything you can for him. It’s good, I am glad he has people who love him and support him.”

Mrs. Song hummed and turned her head to look at me, taking the items from my hands. She smelled the flowers and grinned, placing the ointment by the sink as she went to fetch a vase for the pinkish flowers, “I had always been able to tell whether it was your sister or you, you know? Remember when you brought my Mingi candies when he helped you with your homework? Your sister never quite liked him, I once watched her kick him in the shin because he refused to carry her to school on his back.”

I blushed and looked away feeling embarrassed as Mrs. Song started laughing quietly, amused by the recall of a longtime memory, “You’ve always been soft-spoken and calm, you always looked at my Mingi with admiration and understanding in your eyes. I know he’s not—he appreciates everything you’ve done for him since—since that day, and he’s trying to mend your once bond.”

“It was her who volunteered to take my spot,” My throat felt a little tight, like something was bothering it from the inside, “she knew what she’d have to face, she chose her fate willingly. Mingi only did what everyone else did before him and will do after him, I just wish he was …more willing to receive kindness and love.”

Mrs. Song hummed and gave me a long look before she walked back to me, grabbing the curtain of the small window as she pulled it to the side. She had a big smile on her lips as she gazed outside, and I followed her line of sight, stunned by what I saw. Mingi was outside in the back garden with his grandfather, crouched down and digging up the soil as a half-empty sack lay next to him. His grandfather was fanning himself and holding a bottle of water as his mouth moved, telling Mingi something that made him smile. It was small at first, barely a twitch of the corner of his plump and red lips, but then it expanded slowly into something wider. Something which pulled at the corner of his sharp eyes and softened them up, the brown in them brighter and warmer as his smile only became bigger, crooked front teeth on display, boxy and warm. It lit up his sharp face and made him look kind and friendly, so easily lovable, so easily approachable. The smile made his eyes so small you almost couldn’t see them as they creased, long and tall nose scrunching up as his chest started shaking. It looked like when he was sobbing, but now he was laughing, loudly and joyously, and it made it harder to look at him than at the blazing sun.

My breath hitched and something dormant stirred in my chest, something that made my heart pump my blood faster and my palms ball up into fists as my eyes widened, lips parting in surprise the longer I watched the joy expand on his whole face, making him throw back his head, his black hair not obscuring his eyes for once. His skin was pale despite its tan complex, making it obvious that he didn’t spend much time outside anymore, but under the warm rays of the sun, it made him glow brightly and breathtakingly. He looked casual in his white shirt, which threatened to fall off his right shoulder, and his dark blue trousers were dirtied by the soil his knees dug into. He looked gorgeous, beautiful and mesmerizing, and I have just realized I never wanted to see him cry or frown or tremble in fear ever again. I wanted Mingi to be happy, to be joyous and grateful that he was still alive. I wanted him to smile and laugh every day, his warm eyes trained on me—on my face—without pain or hesitance lingering in them. I wanted Mingi to see me and not my dead twin sister in the reflection of my features.

I gulped, suddenly aware of the tears in my eyes when Mrs. Song placed her wrinkly hand on top of my fisted one, gently squeezing it. Her eyes bore into the side of my head and I sniffed once, trying to gather myself and blink the tears away. Mrs. Song remained silent, but she hummed and gently helped my hands relax as I uncurled them, pressing them into the cold countertop, “He smiles like that from time to time, when he’s able to let go of everything and just be in the moment. I know you miss my grandson, and I know you miss your sister even more.”

“I was never meant to lose both of them,” I whispered, voice strained as I forced my head to turn, Mingi’s laughter and happiness burned into the forefront of my mind, “The Games were never supposed to take away the sister I loved with my whole being, and they were never supposed to take away the innocence and light in Mingi.”

“Life isn’t always fair, my dear,” Mrs. Song said as she let the curtain fall back in place, “Sometimes unexplainable things happen and if we dwell on them trying to find an explanation, whether ordinary or divine, we threaten to lose ourselves in an impossible quest. You’re stronger than anyone has ever thought you’d be, don’t let the darkness get to you like it gets to most of us. You have no idea how much it means that there’s someone who views Mingi like a human being besides me and his grandfather, I was afraid he’d end up like Haymitch, but he’s still fighting and trying to do his best.”

“Mingi’s stronger than he gives credit to himself,” I said with conviction as I walked towards the sink to fetch the ointment I brought, “He’ll never end up like poor Haymitch. I’ll have to check on him soon.”

“He’s still breathing, if you’re worried about him.” Mrs. Song’s tone was sour as she knocked on the window, “I went over today, brought him some pie too. It was the first time since we moved here that he didn’t slam the door in my face, I suspect apple pie is also his favourite.”

Mrs. Song and I chuckled to ourselves as we heard the front door open and then close loudly, manly voices conversing about whether the new seeds they had planted would grow out fast or not. I opened the tin can and handed it to Mrs. Song so that she could smell it and realize I had infused some cinnamon into it since it’s her favourite scent. Her eyes lit up and she grinned just as the men appeared in the doorway to the kitchen, Mr. Song’s laughter gruff, followed by a scratchy cough. I let my eyes fall on the grandfather and grandson, their eyes and noses very similar, it seemed like the traits had carried over to Mingi too. His grandparents weren’t tall people, but judging by the small fragments of memories of Mingi’s parents, I could remember his father being an intimidatingly tall man. Unfortunately, he died in a mining accident when Mingi and I were barely five years old, and his mother unfortunately died not even two years later due to an incurable sickness.

“Oh, Miss Park, what brings you our way?” Mr. Song asked in surprise as he tried to stand up straighter, dusting off his pants and making soil fall onto the clean floors. Mrs. Song’s eyes narrowed but she didn’t say something as Mr. Song acted like he was innocent.

“I wanted to bring Mrs. Song a new ointment for her leg, hopefully, this will work better.” I tried to act like it didn’t hurt when Mingi’s expression fell once he realized it was me who stood in their kitchen, “Is your chest alright, Mr. Song? Do your lungs still hurt when you cough?”

“Ah, no, don’t worry about me!” He quickly brushed my concerns off, but my eyes were stuck on Mingi as he shuffled on his feet, shoulders hunching as if he was trying to look smaller. He didn’t look my way, sharp eyes pointed to the floor, but his face was void of any expression. I could still see his smile in front of my eyes, I could even imagine what his deep laughter sounded like—probably higher-pitched because it had always been breathy—but it remained as an unfulfilled desire because Mingi would never look at me like that, just with anguish and pain in his eyes, “And are you well? I hope our Mingi didn’t inconvenience you too much last night—”

“Helping him, or anyone for the matter, is never an inconvenience to me, Mr. Song.” I didn’t mean to cut the elder man off, nor to sound too snappy, but I couldn’t help myself. The anger and rage I felt last night for the treatment Mingi was forced to face at the Hob still simmered just underneath my skin, making me sensitive, “It wouldn’t have even happened if people stopped seeing him the way the Capitol has painted him, I—I can’t just stand and watch them torment him, I’m sorry. But I’m glad you’re feeling better today, Mingi.”

The Victor flinched when I said his name, gripping his left arm as he started scratching it through the fabric of the loose white shirt he wore, but he nodded his head and briefly looked up at me, a glimpse of gratitude visible on his face, “Thank you for stepping in.”

“Anytime,” I said, and then Mingi was looking anywhere but at me, my presence in his home clearly making him feel uncomfortable. Realizing that despite his grandparents always welcoming me eagerly with open arms, Mingi still didn’t feel comfortable nor keen on seeing me in the one place where he was supposed to be safe from everyone and everything. I understood why, so I didn’t let the thought sour my mood or bring my spirits down, instead, I went and gathered my basket with a smile on my face and glanced at Mrs. Song, “Thank you for the apple pie, but I’m needed at the Nursery, I’ll have it some other time perhaps. Mr. Song, don’t exert yourself too much and if you’re feeling unwell, let me know.”

The men stood aside so that I could leave the kitchen and despite making sure I didn’t walk too close to Mingi, my knuckles still brushed against the soft fabric of his shirt, just barely but it felt soft and warm. My body stiffened, but I didn’t stop despite Mingi’s head turning to look after me, eyebrows furrowed as he looked conflicted.

“Goodbye!” I called before I was out the door, forced to take deep breaths as my heart was hammering against my chest. I had thought I could do this. But the longer he looked at me with disdain, reluctance and pain in his eyes, the more my chest ached and my lungs constricted, trying to call out for the man I was missing, for the boy who always smiled when he saw me and averted his eyes shyly if he looked for too long. But I wasn’t giving up, I couldn’t, and I wouldn’t treat him like the monster the Capitol made him out to be.

            The Hob once was a place filled with laughter and good disposition, a place where people went to dance, listen to music and enjoy their evenings. Now, after the war that destroyed District 13, the Hob became a mere warehouse that was worn down by the passing of time, destroyed by harsh winters and scorching summers. With its missing windows and hollow insides, the people of District 12 made a place out of it that would host illegal night markets, a means of trying to earn more coins in plus despite it being illegal. The Peacemakers knew of it but they never interfered as long as those guarding it got something out of it too. But with the disappearance of what the Hob once used to be, it needed a replacement, a place that would bring people together still, bring some light into their dark every day. The Hut was that place, an old house of a family that have long died since, in a slightly better-off part of District 12. As expected, the Peacekeepers knew of this place too, but they rarely came to bother people as it was close to the mayor’s house, thus leading to fewer displays of aggressive behaviour. But there were exceptions, there always were exceptions.

The people of District 12 couldn’t be considered hostile or unfriendly, but they knew how to hold grudges, and they weren’t afraid to show their hatred toward one another. It’s this reason why they so blatantly mistreated Mingi, swearing and cursing at his face, brave to lay their hands on him without thinking that it could trigger memories from the Games, making him lash out. At the Hob, when he had a lapse of judgment, his panic attack was induced by something that triggered a terrible memory from the games, leading to the altercation. But people seemed to not understand this, ignorant and unwilling to hear me out and realize that they were hurting him more by their attitudes towards him, ostracizing him even more. My friends, who had always known how I felt about Mingi, were just as ignorant at first, blaming him and mocking him, but they’ve gotten better at accepting him and leaving him alone. They weren’t children anymore, I wouldn’t be held accountable for their actions and words, but I could at least try and open their eyes to reality.

The Hut was almost overflowing by the time me and my friends had arrived, rushing inside as the summer breeze bit at our exposed skin. The long-sleeved dress I wore was dark green, like the forest I’d go hunting at, and I had a dainty brown belt around my waist that my sister had gifted me a long time ago. It was made of leather and it must’ve cost a fortune to her, but she smiled widely and clapped her hands when I opened the small gift box, my eyes widening at the expensive clothing item. Now, knowing that she loved it when I wore it, I made sure to wear it as often as I could even if she wasn’t here to see me. It’s the thought that mattered, and I knew she’d be elated if she were here.

We managed to catch an empty table, just about fitting for seven people as we settled in our chairs, voices raised as the live band played their upbeat music, gathering dancing couples close by the scene and cheering everyone on to come and dance. My friends wanted to grab each a pint of beer before we’d mingle with others our age, so I volunteered to walk up to the bar and order us drinks as three Peacekeepers off duty had approached our table, obviously trying to charm the single ladies who sat there. I wasn’t keen on them, they were ruthless in their practices and unforgiving and fake even when they didn’t wear their uniforms. I had no interest in men like them, men who chose to serve the Capitol and earn a paycheck by asserting violence on others.

I pushed my way through the crowd and tried to dodge every drunk person that came my way, but someone had pushed me from behind just as I neared the bar, making me fall forward and crash into someone’s back. The person stiffened instantly and before I could panic, the familiar scent of the person reached my nose. The fabric of his sweater was soft underneath my fingertips, obviously being a gift from someone wealthy as nobody from District 12 could’ve afforded it. It was beige and had an intriguing black pattern knitted into it, making the sweater look even more cozy. I stepped back and up to the bar, cheeks flushed from the heat inside the place but also from stumbling so clumsily into Mingi.

“I’m sorry,” I spoke up as our eyes met, his widening as mine looked away, “someone pushed me and I lost my footing.”

Mingi didn’t answer, but his hand curled around his pint, knuckles turning white as he squeezed it. His eyes remained stuck on me, though, something unusual as I fumbled with my small purse to find enough coins for my order. I threw him a quick glance and he quickly averted his eyes, staring ahead as his eyebrows furrowed. His hair, surprisingly, was brushed out of his eyes and his cheeks were tinged pink, finally not so pale and sickly looking. His plump lips were chapped but Mingi didn’t seem to mind that as he took a small sip of his own beer. I leaned over the bar and motioned towards the one managing it that I needed seven pints. I wouldn’t be able to carry them to my table, but someone would help, I didn’t worry about that. Now that I had to wait, I turned my body to face Mingi’s, and watched as he stiffened when he realized I was looking at him.

“Are you here by yourself?” I asked with a small smile on my lips and he nodded, picking at a thread of his sleeve as they were longer than his hands and covered them. The sweater created the illusion that it swallowed Mingi’s broad and tall form, giving him a cosy look that oozed safety. I fought against the pull to step closer, to touch his sweater to feel its texture, to compliment him about the way he had styled his hair, finally not obscuring his beautiful eyes. Mingi remained silent, eyes pointed forward as the men standing by the bar gave him irritated looks, as if his mere existence was an inconvenience to them. I sighed and leaned back just a bit, throwing them a warning glare until they turned away, looking uncomfortable.

“Would you like to join me?” I tried with an innocent offer, my smile slightly widening, “I’m here with my—”

“No.” But Mingi’s answer was quick and almost frantic as his eyes widened a bit, his head turning just a little to look at me. He looked almost appalled by my offer and I felt bad for making him feel uncomfortable, but lately, I felt like I didn’t know what to say to him, what was appropriate and what was triggering.

“Right, sorry,” I muttered an apology as the host appeared with my pints of beer, a younger boy trudging after him with a grimace. He looked like he didn’t want to be here, and by the baby fat on his cheeks, he probably wasn’t even supposed to be here.

“Here, help the lady!” The host announced loudly and grabbed the coins I pushed towards him, pushing the younger boy around the bar. Mingi’s eyes fell on the boy, who seemed to pay Mingi no mind other than a quick glance, and I offered him a smile as I grabbed four pints.

“I’ll be here, Mingi.” I ignored it when he flinched, instead smiling wider, “In case you change your mind or need me.”

“Thanks.” I didn’t let my surprise show as he thanked me, quietly and almost hesitantly, but our eyes met and he nodded his head, eyes unsure as they remained stuck to my face. I lingered for a second, wishing to say more, to look at him more, but the young boy was already walking off with the other pints and I couldn’t stay by the bar forever. I nodded my head and swiftly walked off, not without looking back and realizing Mingi’s eyes were following me. It made my chest constrict, a lump in my throat rise as I forced a smile onto my face once I reached my friends’ table, which was filled with laughter and joy.

It felt nice breaking away from the monotonous days, from the grey mood everyone in District 12 seemed to have, it felt nice to spend an evening laughing and enjoying myself. Music seemed to always uplift my mood, and I loved watching people dance, eyes stuck to the way they twirled and moved, sometimes laughing, sometimes looking like they were concentrating too much. I loved to watch the gentleness they held each other with, the spark in their eyes and the ease with which they knew how to follow one's lead. The evening had turned into the late hours of the night, my stomach ached from laughing, but my feet still felt fine as I hadn’t danced just yet. Nobody had approached me and I didn’t want to dance with just anyone, so I also didn’t try to find a dance partner. Despite laughing and conversing with my friends, my eyes often strayed towards the bar, unable to focus on the conversation as I gazed at Mingi, wondering what was going through his mind. He didn’t move from the bar but he did find a seat on a stool, and he didn’t drink more than two pints of beer, but he did eat a pie that looked to be with apples. Nobody approached him and he didn’t approach anyone, he remained alone and stuck to himself as he often would look towards the dancing crowd, picking at the skin around his nails.

Mingi had once used to love to dance, whenever we came here, he wouldn’t sit down for even a second. We never came together, our friend groups were different, but we always somehow stumbled into each other. He had once tried to ask my sister to dance with him, but she gave him a disgusted look and stomped on his feet before storming off towards the boy she was head over heels. Taking pity on Mingi, whose lips were downturned and his head hung low, I told him I really wanted to dance but nobody wanted to dance with me. The joy was back on his face as he took my hand and led me towards the dancing people, blabbering on about his favourite songs and how he had tried playing the guitar before but failed. After that, Mingi always seemed to save me a dance before we’d head home. Perhaps there was one person, after all, that I expected to ask me to dance tonight, and it was Mingi.

I was sat at the table with just two of my friends as they drunkenly tried to ask about how my nursing school was working out, but I barely paid them any mind as I saw two men creeping towards Mingi. They seemed to be drunk too, but they had vicious smirks on their lips and narrowed eyes as they spoke between each other, pointing at Mingi’s back. My jaw clenched when one grabbed his shoulder and yanked him backwards, startling Mingi who almost managed to fall off the stool. The other leaned in uncomfortably close, spatting words in his face as Mingi’s eyebrows furrowed, face falling slowly as fear coated his eyes. Sitting up abruptly and alerting my two friends, I paid them no mind as my legs carried me over to the bar, storming up to Mingi and the two idiots without paying mind to anything else.

“Excuse me.” My voice was loud and harsh as I snapped, jaw clenching when only Mingi seemed to realize I was there too, “Get your hands off him, now.”

And then I grabbed the man’s wrist who still held onto Mingi tightly, making sure to dig my nails into his skin as he yelped, turning around with fury on his face. I didn’t release him, not yet, as his face got red and his chest puffed up, prompting Mingi to slide off his stool, standing tall as he watched the exchange.

“You failed to hear me the first time,” I said, then pushed the man back by his hand before I released it, “surely a woman’s grip didn’t hurt you?”

The man scoffed as his hands balled up into fists, and suddenly Mingi was moving, making me gasp when I felt my back pressing into the bar, body shielded by his much taller and bigger one as he stood in front of me, gripping the other man’s forearm with a sneer on his face, “Don’t touch her.”

Mingi’s voice was low and threatening and it only took seconds for the man to start trembling as he tried to yank his arm free, looking towards his companion with a helpless look. But the man didn’t seem like he wanted to help as he watched Mingi with an open mouth.

“Mingi.” I whispered, scared that this would turn into a really bad scene, something I couldn’t help him get out of like at the Hob, “Would you like to dance with me?”

Mingi froze, dropping the man’s forearm as he turned around, eyebrows furrowed and body too close to mine. I looked up at him, finding myself breathing harder when I felt faint fingertips brushing against my knuckles, making my heart somersault.

“Yes.” And before my mind could register that Mingi had accepted to dance with me, a large hand on my waist was gently veering me around the crowd, leading me towards the dancing one, where the band’s music was louder and everyone was smiling and enjoying themselves. My heart raced in my chest as Mingi led us into the middle of the crowd, coming around me as his eyebrows were furrowed, hands hesitant to touch me anywhere despite having led me here by a hand on my waist. I gulped and raised one hand, deciding to make the first step and offering him a gentle invitation.

I didn’t think he’d actually take me up for a dance, I only said that to de-escalate the situation and to have an excuse for us to walk away from it. But Mingi seemed to take it seriously, his warm and large hand hesitantly slipping into mine. His hand was calloused from wielding a bow and arrow and from working in the back garden too, but his touch remained gentle and mindful. He didn’t wait for me to hold onto his shoulder as he pressed his other hand flatly against my lower back, guiding my body closer to his, but leaving a small gap. I gulped as I looked up, eyebrows furrowed as I fought against the tears that wanted to fill my eyes.

It felt like the world had stopped moving around us, as if the Games never existed, as if the old Mingi was back and my sister was watching us from the sidelines with a displeased look on her face. The tension eased from Mingi’s body and he looked at me with less guilt in his eyes as we made eye contact, but he still swallowed hard, lips parting as his voice was gruff and raspy, “Why are you so kind to me?”

“Because you deserve kindness,” I answered without hesitance, gripping his shoulder and clinging onto him too tightly, having little care about the fact that perhaps this was too much for Mingi, that maybe he didn’t want us standing so close, touching each other in familiar ways. But he remained silent as his body further relaxed, shoulders lowering as I felt his fingers jab into my lower back, with a tug on my belt he closed the gap between our bodies.

I couldn’t breathe all of a sudden, what was supposed to be a dance position felt an awful lot like an attempt at a hug, and I couldn’t breathe as I drowned in Mingi’s closeness, warmth and safety, letting my forehead press against his collarbone as a tear rolled down my cheek.

I hadn’t cried since my sister’s death.

            The days went by quickly here, people were used to their routines and they followed them diligently. Nothing ever interesting or intriguing happened, life was mostly grim and grey. Our District wasn’t well off and there were days when even the wealthiest had to sit back and consider whether throwing out money for luxuries was truly necessary or not. The Hob was filled with more and more people trying to earn a little more in plus, desperate as hungry children hid behind their mothers and hollow-cheeked men tried to be louder so that they’d attract attention upon their stalls. It was a hard-to-swallow picture at times, but it was what I grew up seeing my whole life. I still took pity on everyone, never getting quite used to seeing all the suffering these people had to endure, frequently reminded that I was one of them too, struggling at times to get by. Training to become a nurse had made me realize that I felt fulfilled helping others and that it made me find a purpose other than trying to survive day by day. It gave me hope that if I was capable of helping and healing others, instead of harming them and taking their lives away, then others were capable of taking me as an example to become better and more helpful towards their peers. District 12 had always been forgotten and misjudged by the public—hence why it came as a shock to the Capitol that Mingi was strong and perfectly capable of handling a weapon and defending himself—if our people didn’t stick together, then who would vouch for us?

Helping others, even in the smallest ways like bringing them water or even a slice of bread shouldn’t have been considered something impossible, offering a helping hand to an elderly couple shouldn’t have surprised others when they found out about it. That is why helping the Song family had never seemed like a nuisance to me. Before the Games, it didn’t feel wrong to anyone, but after Mingi returned as a Victor it wasn’t just him who was shunned, his grandparents were too, treated poorly by those who once had happily visited their small patisserie, looking out for the elderly pair who have raised a small child into a fine young man. It was disheartening to watch how the people treated the family, only to realize my own family viewed them the same way. My parents stopped asking about their well-being, about whether Mingi would’ve liked having dinner with us, whether I would go hunt with Mingi and bring back flowers for my sister, they acted as if he never existed. I understood their reasoning, but I couldn’t accept it. They couldn’t blame him for something that was out of his control, for something he was forced to do. That is why I never cared what others thought of me, what they said about me behind my back, whether they judged me or not for keeping in touch with the Song family. Only I could change my mind about them, nothing anyone else said about them could influence me in any way.

That is why I continued to stick around, that is why I visited them weekly to make sure the elderly couple was healthy and Mingi wasn’t cooped up in his room all the time. Today, just shy of a week since Mingi and I had danced at The Hut, I stopped by to see whether Mrs. Song needed help with house maintenance. I memorised the days she liked to clean the house, opening all windows and dusting off all shelves, moping the floors clean and baking something delicious for her husband and grandchild. The blueberry muffins were in the oven, their aroma making my stomach churn as Mrs. Song was perched on a chair, rearranging a shelf of books as she carefully cradled their spines, smiling whenever she opened a book, flipping through pages that were yellow already. I was sat on the windowsill as I cleaned the hinges of the window with a green rag, humming to myself as the birds outside chirped loudly, making me smile. Mr. Song had ventured inside the District, looking for trinkets as he was building a small jewellery box and needed something to decorate it with. If Mingi wasn’t home during the day, he most certainly was out hunting, so I didn’t have to ask Mrs. Song about his whereabouts.

“The Capitol people are coming next week and they’ll be here for a few days,” Mrs. Song spoke up as I felt her eyes on me, “you shouldn’t come over, for your own safety. They are curious people and they always ask questions, they always pester Mingi whether he has someone or not. There’s—bad people in the Capitol who tried to buy him but Haymitch didn’t let them, it’s a dangerous world. Mingi wouldn’t want you involved either.”

I gulped, gut coiling upon hearing people tried to buy him as if he wasn’t a living person with a will and control over his own choices, it didn’t sit well with me, “Is something the matter?”

“No, the Reaping is getting closer and President Snow wants to showcase last year’s Victor.” Mrs. Song sighed and carefully got off the chair, sitting on it instead, “Update the public about what he’s been up to lately and how he’s doing, it’s all for show, really. But Mingi hates it, he’s been more—silent and avoidant, he doesn’t leave his room so often anymore. I know he’s scared, he’s dreading the Reaping. He will probably have to go as a Mentor this year and he doesn’t want to. The nightmares are back too, I don’t know how to be there for him anymore. I don’t know what to do to reassure him anymore.”

A feeling of sadness permeated my whole being as I closed the window, shiny and as good as new as I faced Mrs. Song, “He knows you’re trying your best, and he’s trying his best too. Just let him be and offer him a shoulder to lean on when he comes to you, I think he’s gotten better at coping. I can make a tea for him, to sleep better and have less nightmares, if you want me to.”

“I’ll ask him about it.” Mrs. Song smiled and stood, bringing the chair back to its spot in the kitchen. I drew the curtains together and grabbed the rag to bring it to the bathroom and wash it clean, but as I stepped into the hallway, the front door opened and Mingi stepped through the threshold. His black hair was dishevelled and his attire was completely green, his jacket undone and t-shirt underneath muddy as he kicked his dirty shoes off by the door. He hadn’t noticed me yet as he held a wild duck in his hand, an arrow still lodged in its heart.

“’Ma, I’m—” When he looked up his body tensed, eyes stopping on me. I stood up a bit straighter and offered him a small welcoming smile.

“Hello.” I greeted, holding the rag with both hands in front of me. It’s been a week since we danced together and he hadn’t been as tense around me as before, he spoke a bit more, but he still kept his distance. He didn’t look at me for too long, but his eyes looked less haunted whenever he did, “How was your hunt?”

Mingi swallowed then his eyes looked down at his hands, the dead duck wasn’t dripping blood on the clean floor at least, “Short, but I caught something at least.”

“That’s good,” I smiled a bit wider, “your grandma will make a delicious stew out of it, I’m sure.”

Mingi hummed as his eyes were stuck on the arrow that went through the duck’s heart as if he was unable to look away. His thick brows furrowed and his jaw clenched, but he abruptly raised his head, eyes hard and body alarmed as I tried to stand as unthreateningly as I could. I didn’t want to trigger any memory if able, so I looked to the side as Mingi’s eyes continued boring into the side of my face, “Would you—would you like to—if my grandma makes stew, would you—the duck I caught, I—I’m sorry.”

Silence stretched between us as I sighed, not annoyed and neither tired, just feeling defeated when I chanced a glance at Mingi. He looked disappointed as he chewed on his bottom lip, shoulders hunched forward again as his bangs fell into his eyes, “Would you like me to come over for lunch if your grandma makes stew, Mingi?”

He stiffened, flinching slightly, but he wordlessly nodded slowly, looking at me through his eyelashes. I chuckled and nodded, feeling like we had just taken an immense step towards finding common ground again, towards reestablishing what we once had, “Alright, I’ll come over if you still want me to.”

“I will.” Mingi said hurriedly, I had barely finished talking, “I won’t change my mind.”

I felt my chest slowly warm up as my smile slightly faltered, forcefully ignoring the need to walk over and hug him, inhale his earthy scent and thank him for trying to mend our lost relationship. I nodded, eyes boring into his as Mingi nodded back, shifting on his feet as if he didn’t know what to say more or what to do next. But to his luck, Mrs. Song had just walked out of the kitchen, eyes widening in delight when she noticed her grandson, “Mingi! You’re back! Go wash up, you can take care of the duck afterwards.”

Mingi nodded and walked further inside the house, making sure to avoid touching me when he passed by me as I pressed myself up against the wall. I watched him press a quick kiss against his grandmother’s cheek and then disappear inside the kitchen before he raced up the stairs without looking back. Mrs. Song chuckled before she looked at me with a knowing look in her eyes, then pointed towards the bathroom, “Were you headed in there?”

“Yes, do you need anything?” I asked as I approached her, trying to stop my eyes from gazing up at the stairs as Mingi’s loud footsteps thudded against the floorboards as he entered his room, closing the door loudly.

“I will hang up the laundry, can you bring Mingi’s clothes up to him after you’ve washed the rag?” Mrs. Song had a sweet smile on her lips as I nodded, setting into motion as I headed inside the bathroom, “My knees are old, my dear, they don’t function as well as yours or my grandson’s…”

I heard Mrs. Song mutter to herself as I chuckled quietly, nearing the sink as I looked up, met with my reflection in the mirror up on the wall. I turned on the faucet without looking down, my eyes a dark colour but under the sunlight a blazing amber—if I believed what everyone has always told me—and my short hair was braided behind my ears as that’s how far I could actually braid the strands. The two ponytails that sat at my nape were small and sometimes managed to tickle me, but I didn’t mind them, the hairstyle was practical and looked cute. I didn’t like my hair getting in my eyes when I was working with my patients, and today had been a rather packed day at the Nursery before I could leave to help Mrs. Song out.

The water was warm against my skin as I rinsed the rag out, carefully hanging it on the side of the bathtub, eyes looking around the bathroom in search of Mingi’s freshly folded clothes. They were placed on top of a low stool behind the door and I went and grabbed them, fingers curling into the soft fabric of the shirt that was at the bottom of the pile. They smelled fresh, devoid of the earthy scent Mingi usually carried with himself, a tinge of citrus could be smelt in the fabric as I brought it up to my nose, taking a deep inhale. Realizing that what I was doing was probably inappropriate, I stopped myself and rolled my shoulders back, trying to stop the blush from spreading widely onto my cheeks.

Mrs. Song was outside in the back garden as I headed for the stairs, the double doors opened and the curtains fluttered as the wind blew inside, Mrs. Song’s pleasant singing voice carried by the wind made me smile. I carefully walked up the stairs, which were made of marble like the rest of the ground floor’s flooring, and was met with pictures hung on the wall of the Song family. There were some older ones, black and white, and some newer ones where Mingi was small and smiling widely as his parents held his hands, his mother’s smile a perfect replica of Mingi’s. Mingi was the perfect mixture of his parents’ traits, but he seemed to take slightly more after his father, who had the same small and sharp eyes as his son, his nose long and tall. I was familiar with the pictures, I’ve seen them numerous times in the Song’s old house, but it brought comfort seeing them once again. The Victor houses were devoid of colours and any life, they exuberated coldness and stripped the home of any cosiness. It felt nice to see Mrs. Song trying to bring it more life with the pictures, her favourite paintings that were family heirlooms and carpets that she and Mr. Song had inherited over the years, with flowers littered around every part of the house.

I knocked on Mingi’s door, his bedroom was the last in the hallway and faced towards the forest, unsurprisingly, but there was no answer. Trying again, not intending to intrude on his privacy, I knocked some more but there was still no answer. I grabbed the doorknob and whispered his name as I poked my head inside just a little, only to realise he wasn’t in the room. Eyes widening, I pushed the door further open and froze, taken aback by what I was seeing. I had never stepped foot inside Mingi’s bedroom ever since he moved inside this house, but upon one glance, it was a replica of his old bedroom. Even the way his things were positioned was the same, his furniture the same, the only difference being the white walls while in his old bedroom, they were grey and the paint was chapped, falling off in some places. It smelled like musk and something citrusy inside, perhaps oranges, as I let the door close behind me, a single lamp lit on his desk despite it being daytime. His blackout curtains were drawn together, but based on the volume of the birds chirping, I could tell the windows were open. Walking further inside, I noticed a small notebook opened on top of his desk, a pencil on the floor and the beginning of a sketch that looked an awful lot like the meadow.

There was a thud behind me and as I turned around, I just realized there was a door inside the room, closed but light flooded out from underneath it. Deciding to place the clothes on Mingi’s bed, I took off towards it just as the door opened and warm steam wafted outside of it. Freezing, I opened my mouth to quickly explain myself but was caught off guard by what I saw. Mingi, still oblivious to my presence fumbled with the light switch as he stepped outside of the joint bathroom, hair dripping wet and torso bare as a black towel hung low on his hips. His cheeks were flushed and the water from his hair dropped to his wide shoulders, quickly trailing down his broad chest, between his pecks until they disappeared into the towel. The beginning of a happy trail started just where the towel concealed his lower body and I gasped, turning my head away when I felt my whole face on fire.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were showering!” My voice was high-pitched, flustered and sounded embarrassed too, “Your grandmother asked me to bring up your clothes and I—I knocked, I really did but you didn’t answer and I—I’m sorry. I really am, I’ll go, I just—”

My heart was beating so fast and loud, I was sure Mingi could hear it too in the silence that followed my frantic explanation, hands slightly shaking as I placed the pile of clothes on his bed, clumsily knocking some over. Letting out a frustrated huff, I fumbled around as I grabbed them, folding them again as I tried to ignore Mingi’s frozen form in the room, dark eyes trained on my body, watching me wordlessly.

“You can leave them, I have to put them away either way.” Mingi’s voice was deep, tone light despite our predicament. I gulped and stopped, closing my eyes as I took a deep breath, steeling my nerves before I stood up straight, letting go of the short-sleeved white shirt I was about to fold.

“I’m sorry.” I apologized again, keeping my eyes glued to the floorboards, “I didn’t mean to—”

“I know.” It was unlike Mingi to cut me off, especially with so much understanding in his voice. He hadn’t talked to me like that since the Games, he hadn’t kept his eyes so insistently on me ever since the Games. My cheeks were still burning, not because I caught Mingi half-naked, but instead because he wasn’t looking away, he was trying to catch my gaze as he lowered his eyes, “Thank you.”

My muscles became tense, eyebrows slightly furrowing as I licked my lips, not quite understanding what he was saying thank you for so earnestly. I hadn’t done anything of great importance, I just merely brought his clothes up for him because his grandmother was old and probably struggled scaling the stairs so many times a day. Willing myself to look up, to tell him that he didn’t have to thank me for something so simple, the words got stuck in my throat as we made eye contact. His face looked relaxed, wet strands falling onto his forehead in a way that didn’t obscure his vision and he wasn’t hyperventilating and neither looking uncomfortable. I gulped, opening my mouth to say something, but my eyes slipped and landed on his left arm where a big red gash stood out strikingly against his tan complex. My eyebrows furrowed as I continued looking at it, and when Mingi realized, he hid his arm behind his back.

“When did you get that?” I asked, concern lacing my voice.

“Yesterday.” Mingi’s answer was short, voice once again void of any emotion.

“Did you treat it?”

“Washed it with warm water.”

“That’s not good enough,” I muttered, eyebrows furrowing in worry as I looked back up at him, “you need to disinfect it and put ointment on it, you should also probably wrap it up with gauze too.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve survived worse.” I knew he didn’t mean to sound so aggressive as he said that because he flinched, his right hand balling up into a fist as he averted his eyes, turning his head to the side.

“I know,” I whispered, but I wasn’t about to let him walk around with a fresh cut, “but you need to treat that. I’ll be right back.”

“Y/N, you don’t have to—” But I was out the door before he could finish his sentence, hurrying down the long hallway and then skipping down the stairs as Mrs. Song remained outside, now sitting in a chair as she watched the bees that flew onto the flowers in her garden, a content smile on her lips. I rushed towards the downstairs bathroom and opened the cabinet above the bathtub, grabbing the distilled water, saline solution, a soothing ointment I learned how to make from my sister, and some gauze. As I left the bathroom and raced back up the stairs, I heard the front door opening, meaning that Mr. Song had also returned home. In my rush to get back to Mingi and treat his fresh wound, I forgot to knock to warn him that I was heading in, but thankfully he was fully dressed and sitting on his bed, left leg bent while the right one hung off the side of the bed. He looked up alarmed as I heaved a sigh, closing the door behind me and placing everything on the bed in front of Mingi as I neared him.

“May I wash my hands in your bathroom?” Mingi didn’t hesitate to nod and I quickly went inside and washed my hands thoroughly with soap, letting them dry on their own as I walked back inside his room, pulling the bathroom door closed with my foot. Mingi watched me, neck craned as I stopped next to him staring down at the bed as I debated whether I should ask him to turn around or sit opposite him. Deciding that he looked comfortable and I didn’t want to bother him, I got on the bed across from him, sitting on my knees as I lowered myself on my legs, looking down at the solutions I brought, “May I see the wound?”

Mingi froze for a second, but he didn’t stall for long as he extended his arm, shuffling closer when he realized we sat too far from each other. He gulped, loudly, but I ignored it as I grabbed his arm and pulled it towards my lap, eyebrows furrowing as I inspected it. The skin wasn’t red around it, thankfully, but the wound seemed rather irritated. I looked at him for a brief second, surprised to find Mingi looking at me intensely, “May I touch you?”

“Yes.” His voice was low and raspy as he answered, and he tensed when I hummed, looking back down at the wound. I sighed and gently traced the skin around the wound, making sure there were no bumps or smaller cuts before I grabbed some gauze and poured distilled water on it. Mingi helped me uncap the bottle and then held it for me as I placed his arm back in my lap, gently tapping the gauze on the wound, knowing that it probably wouldn’t hurt him. He remained silent and I didn’t speak up despite wanting to ask questions about how he got this wound, I just handed him back the lid and he lidded the bottle before putting it aside.

“This might sting a bit,” I warned him as I grabbed the saline solution and opened the bottle, pausing to look at him, “did the soap sting?”

“Yeah, yesterday,” Mingi mumbled and looked away, lowering his head as his shoulders were hunched forward. His hair was damp, but at least water wasn’t dripping everywhere from it anymore. He wore fluffy trousers and a white t-shirt which was a bit tight and clung to his body, enunciating his scrawny but broad form. I hummed and tapped his wrist to warn him that I would pour the saline solution on the open wound now, which thankfully didn’t need stitches as it wasn’t deep enough. The muscles of Mingi’s arm tensed when the solution reached his wound, but he made no sounds. I made sure to pour only as much as was needed to disinfect the wound and glanced up at him, finding his jaw clenched and nose scrunched up as he stared down at his lap. Closing the saline solution bottle, I grabbed a clean gauze and folded it so that I could tap it against his skin. We remained silent as I worked slowly and carefully, not wanting to cause more discomfort. I felt Mingi’s eyes on me when I placed the bottles aside and grabbed the small can, my hand falling next to his as I paused.

“This won’t sting, it’ll help ease any discomfort and soothe the burn.” I informed him and then opened the can, taking a copious amount of ointment on my fingers before I started rubbing it into the wound, not pressing it too much as I knew it would hurt, “You should use this three times a day until it fades into a scar, and if you go hunting, you should wrap it up with gauze for some extra protection. If anything gets into it, it might get infected. I should check up on it in two weeks, but if it starts bothering you in any way, let me know as fast as possible, okay?”

I looked at Mingi with raised eyebrows and he nodded wordlessly as I sighed, glad that I could help. I closed the small can and placed it next to his knee so that he’d put it away somewhere where it was close by, and prepared to grab the dirty gauze and bottles, when long and thick fingers curled around my right wrist, halting my movements. I froze, staring ahead at Mingi’s chest as it was rising and falling rhythmically. His head was still lowered, eyes obscured as his big hand felt cold against my skin, the hold gentle and not bruising.

“Thank you.” I smiled and nodded with a hum, letting my eyes rest on his face, which he was trying to hide.

“Of course, Mingi.” But maybe I said something wrong because his head snapped up, eyebrows furrowed as his eyes searched mine, lips pursed as he looked confused and even annoyed.

“Why are you so nice to me, Y/N?” He asked, voice shaking as his fingers uncurled from my wrist, dropping down between us, accidentally brushing against my knee.

“Because you deserve kindness,” I wanted Mingi to understand that he wasn’t different than anyone else, that he was a person who deserved to be treated well and with love and tenderness, “Because you’re a human being with feelings and thoughts and struggles just like everyone else. You don’t deserve to be treated badly for what you were forced to do, everyone would’ve done the same if they were in your place, Mingi. You’re gentle and compassionate, you’re easily spooked and you’re clumsy despite being tall and strong, you listen to others and you help them. You’re kind and you’re a good person despite what others might think and say now about you. You’ve always picked me up when I fell, you never laughed when I didn’t know something, you waited for me when nobody else did, and you never seemed to forget about me when everyone else did.”

My breath hitched in my throat when Mingi’s hand raised, warm and hesitant as it cupped my right cheek, his fingers burning my skin as I continued speaking, “I’m not scared of you Mingi, you’ll always be the shy little boy to me who carried me on his back when my feet started hurting and pulled on my hair when I threatened to fall asleep in classes. Nothing will change that, not even you pushing me away.”

I watched as Mingi’s eyes got teary, his bottom lip shaking as his hand fell from my cheek, making me miss his warmth as I almost grabbed onto his hand to press it back against my skin, yearning for his touch. But he only hunched more into himself, shoulders shaking, and I knew he wanted to be alone, with nobody to see him as he became vulnerable and emotional. Gathering the things I brought with myself beside the ointment, I left the room, leaving him alone to mule over the words I had said to me.

I could only hope he would start believing them

            And maybe my words did get through to him because the next time the two of us were out in the forest to hunt, we ran into each other and instead of him running away like always, he stopped walking and waited for me to reach him. He was just about to jump over the fence when he glanced over his shoulder and spotted my approaching form. I smiled widely at him and waved as I hurried my steps, holding onto the bow that was around my shoulders, ten arrows sitting in the holster by my hip. Mingi’s bow was around his shoulders too, but his holster was next to it instead of it being on his hip, and he wore his green jacket and black-coloured pants. It was a sunny day today, so I didn’t wear my usual hunting gear, just a light blouse that had to be laced up at the chest and trousers that once belonged to my sister.

“Hello, Y/N.” I froze when I heard him greet me, usually not being the first one to acknowledge my existence. My smile became wider as I had to look up at him, shielding my eyes with a hand as the sun shone down on us brightly.

“Mingi, hi!” My tone was laced with enthusiasm, and despite Mingi not smiling, I could tell by his expression that he wasn’t in a displeased mood, “Did you just arrive?”

“Yes, I planned to hunt for a few hours today, it’s too warm to sit by the house.” It was a long sentence, a longer answer, something that hadn’t happened in a long time. I tried to tell my racing heart to calm down, to savour the moment while it lasted. In his eyes, which were lighter under the bright sunlight, I recognized the spark which was always present in the Mingi before he left for the Games.

“I agree, it’s even worse further into the District,” I nodded and grabbed the fence, “Would you…like to hunt with me?”

It was a bold offer, I knew it could sour Mingi’s mood rather quickly, but I could only hope he wouldn’t turn me down. I missed hunting with someone, I missed the dynamic that came when you had someone next to you, how much more silent you needed to be, more careful and more vigilant. I used to hunt with my sister almost daily, we’d sneak out when our parents were busy and would only return by nightfall. Once, we ventured further into the forest, far from the meadow, and discovered that there was a small but beautiful lake an hour away. We rarely went out there, out of fear of the Capitol watching over it, but I cherished the memories we shared there with my sister.

“Yes, we could hunt together.” Mingi’s answer was unexpected, and my eyes widened as I looked up at him, trying to read his expression but it didn’t say much. He nodded more to himself before he gripped the fence and pulled himself up halfway, jumping over it and landing with precision, it certainly wasn’t the first time he’d done it. Knowing that I’d never be able to jump over it, I crouched and pulled on the fence just underneath the sign that warned us of high voltage, creating a gap where I could go through. Mingi watched with surprise as I came up next to him, pushing the fence back so that it wouldn’t be visible that there was a passageway.

“Was that always there?” Mingi asked amazed, still looking at the fence as I readjusted my blouse.

“Yes,” I said with a chuckle, taking off towards the trees, “I’m too short to jump over the fence, did you think I did the same as you to get out?”

“Yes?” Mingi asked as he averted his eyes, cheeks dusted pink as he made me chuckle. I bumped my shoulder into his as we walked further inside the forest, covered by the shade of trees which brought me instant relief as sweat had broken out on my forehead and temples. I patted them off with the sleeve of my blouse and grabbed onto my belt as we walked around bushes and stepped over fallen logs, hiding behind a boulder as we spotted a deer. Our breaths were synchronised as Mingi and I peeked out above the boulder, watching the pretty deer as it remained oblivious to our presence. Mingi’s fingers tightened around his bow as he exhaled, and I turned my head to watch him curiously. We had to remain silent in order not to alert our prey, but I couldn't help myself.

“Will you claim it?” I whispered, the sound quiet as Mingi took his bottom lip between his teeth, his head turning. Our faces were close as he exhaled, the warm air brushing against my cheeks, but he shook his head.

“I don’t hunt deer anymore, they are too beautiful,” Mingi answered, voice less cautious as the deer’s head snapped up and looked around, aware that it wasn’t alone anymore. I didn’t say anything for a second, just savoured our closeness and Mingi’s musky scent combined with the earth around us, as our eyes bore into each other. I hummed and faced the deer at last, watching as it continued eating once it decided that it wasn’t in danger.

“Should we head further in, then?” I raised an eyebrow, a friendly smile settling on my lips, “Find the wild ducks?”

Mingi and I made brief eye contact as he nodded, and then we both straightened up and stepped around the boulder, alerting the deer and making it run off in fright. My eyes followed it, remembering the one time my sister ruthlessly hunted down one of them, telling me that an animal was a source of food no matter how pretty as I started crying while I watched it die. I didn’t join my sister for a week after that incident, and I felt warmness spread through my chest that now I knew Mingi didn’t like hunting them either. Wild ducks were a little bit easier to hunt, at the beginning I wasn’t keen on capturing them, but famish was horrible and it made us do things we didn’t want to.

I followed after Mingi in silence as he jumped over rocks and logs, navigating his way around the forest as if it was his second home—which it might’ve been at this point—watching closely the way he moved, the way he carried himself. His shoulders were pulled back and his back was straight, he moved with elegance and confidence as he pushed the branches of a tree to the side, waiting for me and holding it for me as well. His muscles weren’t too tense and he seemed to be at ease as a small smile played at his lips, probably subconsciously, as his sharp eyes surveyed the place every other minute, looking for the wild ducks but also to spot any other possible prey. A red fox jumped in front of us and made me gasp as I didn’t expect it, and once Mingi’s initial shock was gone and he lowered the protective arm he’d put in front of me, he grinned at the fox and stomped his foot once, making it run off. I curled my palms into fists when our knuckles brushed together as we walked side by side, trying to fight the urge to hold onto his hand and intertwine our fingers. I missed holding his big hands, feeling their callousness and the few silver rings he wore dig into my skin.

Mingi slowed his steps when he spotted the wild ducks and I made sure to remain quiet as I watched mine too. He motioned behind a tree and we lowered ourselves behind it, peeking out at the ducks from both sides of the trunk. Mingi faced me with a questioning expression and I nodded once as I moved slowly and silently, taking my bow and an arrow as I hooked it, getting in a better position to pull it back. Mingi watched me closely as my muscles tensed and my arm pulled even further back, lips brushing against the arrow as Mingi hummed once, throwing a pebble to make the ducks fly off. I sprung up and locked onto my prey, letting go of the arrow at once as we watched it shoot straight at a wild duck, hitting it and making it fall onto the forest ground. My heart was beating fast, making my body warm as my blood flowed faster, cheeks tinged red as I smiled widely, pulling another arrow to shoot another duck that wasn’t spooked and remained behind. I hit that one too, and wondered when Mingi would shoot his own shot, but when my head turned to look at him, he was frozen and his eyes were wide. His knuckles were white as he had grabbed onto the tree tightly, breathing faster than before.

Realizing that something wasn’t right, I lowered my bow and scootched closer to him, “Mingi?”

My voice was quiet and cautious as Mingi mumbled to himself, seemingly stuck somewhere inside his mind as his body shivered, “No.”

I realized he was having a flashback when he gasped loudly and stood up straight abruptly, shaking his head more feverishly, “No! Stop, no!”

I let my bow fall to the ground as I stepped closer, trying to stabilize my breaths, “Mingi, focus on me. Listen to my voice—”

“No, she’s dead!” He screamed, voice raw and raspy as he faced me frantically, his body shaking, “I—the arrow—I killed her, she’s—she’s bleeding, I—”

“Mingi!” My tone was higher as I grabbed his wrist tightly and stared up into his eyes, “Snap out of it, it’s not real. We’re in the forest—”

“No, I killed her. She’s dead, you—you are dead, I—” Mingi gasped loudly and tried to yank his wrist free, but I grabbed onto his arms and yanked him closer to myself, forcing him to remain by my side.

“I’m not her.” My voice was harsh, eyebrows furrowed, “It’s me, Y/N, we’re back in District 12, in the forest, hunting. It was a wild duck, Mingi.”

It took him a few seconds to realize I was saying the truth, that the face which was talking to him wasn’t that of my dead twin sister’s, but of the girl he left behind when he left for the Games, the girl who he abandoned when he returned, “Mingi.”

“Why?” His voice was shaky and he suddenly stepped closer, all up in my personal space. I had to crane my neck back to look up at him, “Why are you doing this? Why are you still here? Why do you talk to me? Why don’t you hate me? Why don’t you—just kill me?!”

His tone rose with each desperate question, his bottom lip shaking as his eyes filled with tears, his chest rising and falling rapidly, “What do you want from me? Just let me—hate me, Y/N, shun me away, scream at me and slap me, I—I don’t deserve any kindness. I don’t deserve you anymore, I’m a monster. I’m a criminal, I murdered her, I shot the arrow straight through her heart. I have no future, I’m a nobody, I don’t deserve to be alive, why are you still with me?!”

“Mingi!” I screamed, making him flinch as I shook his hands off my arms and cupped his cheeks instead, pulling his head down to be eye level with me, “Look me in the eyes, Mingi.”

But he didn’t, he looked at the ground and shook his head, sniffing loudly as my jaw clenched, “Look me in the eyes, I said, Song Mingi.”

I had never spoken to him harshly, I had never demanded anything of him before, and upon hearing my tone and words, his eyes snapped up, wide and shaking, “Look at me. My eyes are dark, just like yours, hers were light like the sky during the day. My hair is short and wavy, hers was long and straight, always in a perfect bun while mine is almost impossible to tame. I’m tall, she was shorter and always complained about it. My voice is higher-pitched and warmer, more comforting, hers was raspy and always demanding, always ordering something. We smell different, she loved flowers and smelled like them, and I hate flowers and would rather cover myself in mud than smell like it. My body is covered in moles and hers barely had three, all on her face meanwhile mine has none. I like to read about nature and birdwatch as well as stargaze and braid hair, she hated reading and she only watched the night sky because she knew I loved it, she never braided her hair because the strands were too thin and would constantly fall out. I want to heal and help people because I love our humanity and I’m conscious that we are here one day and the next maybe not, she wanted to heal people because it made her feel like she had control over life, because she never got to control her own life, Mingi.

“She was mean to you and she didn’t like you, she pushed you around and made fun of you whenever she could. I never did, I always wanted to be by your side, I wanted to talk to you and listen to your stories, I wanted to shield you from her harsh words. You wanted to dance with her, but she always refused, so I took her place hoping it’d make you happy since I looked like her, I hoped you’d be able to imagine it was her and not me. I help your grandparents because I want to and because I care about them, not because our parents sent us over to your house to help you out, I didn’t do it because I knew our mother would buy us new dresses. I don’t want to see you in pain and agony over having killed my twin sister, Mingi, I have never hated you for it, and I have never resented you for what you had done, so please, stop seeing her in me and look at me. See me, Mingi, please.”

Mingi was crying by the time I was done talking, his body shaking as he forced his eyes shut, his tears wetting my hands as I rubbed the skin under his eyes as his arms no longer lay limply by his side but circled my waist and pulled me into him, embracing me in a tight hug as I let him burry his head in my neck, heart-wrenching sobs leaving his mouth as I ran my fingers through his smooth hair, allowing him to let out all the grief and pain he’s felt and tried to push down.

“I forgive you, Mingi,” I said it because I knew it was what he needed to hear and not because he had anything to be forgiven for, “for everything.”

He nodded his head frantically as he continued crying, fingers digging into my blouse desperately as his loud sobs echoed around us, a few Mockingjays picking up on it and carrying it further inside the forest. I hugged him closer to my body when his muscles started easing up and I massaged his scalp when his sobs started vanning, hiccups and sniffing following it, tight embrace turning into comfortable body warmth that screamed out for companionship.

And I knew he’d get better, he was strong, and he was no pawn of the Capitol.

2 months later

            The sun had lost some of its warmth now that autumn was approaching and I didn’t feel ready to let go of the lush green scenery, of the forest that brought such huge refuge and safety. The meadow was full of blooming colours, of flowers that made me sneeze, of bees that were loud and made Mingi jump every time they flew past him. I had my eyes closed as I played with the petal of a Musk Mallow, the person lying next to me fidgeting every few seconds as he was afraid of bugs. I had a smile on my face as he finally sighed and gave up, sitting up as he pulled his knees into his chest. The Reaping was tomorrow, the Peacekeepers were getting the square ready, and the train bringing the Capitol people would arrive tomorrow. Effie Trinket would act like picking a boy and girl for the Games was normal and Haymitch would be probably black-out drunk while Mingi would stand on the podium shaking and looking sickly pale.

“I’m scared.” As if hearing my thoughts, he whispered, “I’m not ready to return, I don’t want to go back, Y/N.”

“They will never make you go back into the Games.” I tried to remind him.

“I know, I just can’t watch a child I know attempt to train for something that will lead to their dismay.” Mingi’s voice was defeated as I blinked my eyes open, raising my hand to shield them from the sun.

“Perhaps District 12 will have another Victor, Mingi, have more faith in them.” I tried to sound encouraging, but I knew it was of no use. Mingi and my sister got reaped when they were eighteen, what was supposed to be their last year participating in the Reaping. The odds were rarely in our favour.

“I can’t be a mentor, it’s too soon.” Mingi pressed his forehead against his knees, squeezing his eyes shut tightly. I sighed and followed him, sitting up as I pulled something out of my pocket.

“You’ll be fine, you won’t be alone and you’ll be a good mentor, Mingi.” I said with an encouraging smile as he turned his head to look at me, “They won’t hurt you at the Capitol, they can’t. Remember, you are your own master and you can’t let President Snow get inside your head. You did well when they came to take the interview all those months ago, you’ll be able to ace this too. I believe in you, Mingi.”

He bit his bottom lip, eyes searching my face before they settled on my own, our gazes boring together as I looked down at my hands, playing with the single pearl on the bracelet. Taking a deep breath, I looked back up at Mingi and smiled at him softly, extending my hand with the bracelet towards him, “For you, as a token of good luck and trust, because I trust you and I—I’ll be here, home, waiting for you to return to me, Mingi.”

Gaze softening as he straightened up, he took the bracelet from me, his warm fingers grazing my palm as they curled around the bracelet, a small happy smile spreading onto his lips. He looked at it for another long moment, inspecting the pearl just like I had done after I brought it home, and then he looked up again, turning his head to face me. His voice was barely a whisper, “I’ll miss you, Y/N, so much.”

I smiled and released a quiet breath as Mingi leaned closer, supporting himself with a hand as my eyes fluttered closed, his plump lips hovering just for a second before they pressed against mine firmly. They were warm and not as chapped as they usually were since I had made him an ointment to use, and they were soft and tasted of the chamomile tea his grandmother made us drink before we headed for the meadow. I kissed back with passion, hoping it would convey all the unspoken things, all the words I wasn’t able to say yet, but would say when the timing was right. His kisses were always careful and gentle, like him, hesitant until his brain registered that I wanted him just as much as he wanted me, only becoming firm and demanding when he couldn’t withhold himself anymore. I smiled as we pulled back, our lips making a funny sound when Mingi chased after mine and pressed a loud quick kiss against them again, making himself blush and giggle as he turned his head, gazing out towards the trees and shade.

“I’ll take care of your grandparents in your absence,” I promised as I offered him my hand, heart leaping in my chest when his longer and thicker fingers slipped between mine, intertwining with confidence and conviction.

“Thank you, they’ll probably ask you to sleep over sometimes.” Mingi said, his thumb rubbing my knuckle as I squeezed his hand, “They don’t like the quiet when it’s just the two of them.”

“I’ll make sure to spend the night from time to time,” I promised again with a smile on my lips as Mingi and I glanced at each other, settling into a comfortable silence as I helped him wear the bracelet before we scooted closer to each other, hands still intertwined and gazing forward at the serene nature, the deer that played around oblivious to our presence, the leaves that were moved by the wind.

There were days when things were harder to cope with, when Mingi couldn’t get out of bed and when he didn’t want to see anyone, but there were days when Mingi couldn’t stop laughing, when he cradled me against his chest and told me he loved me, when he promised to marry me if our world miraculously changed for the better. I knew it wouldn’t be easy to remain by his side, that we’d both be faced with challenges and hardships, judged by our people and by the Capitol, but we didn’t care. Something that we both loved and cherished had been ripped from us by tyrants, my sister and his innocence, we’d stop bowing down to the pressure to live a life that we didn’t want.

And, sometime in the near future, we both knew that dire days were coming before a bright and free future,

“And the Tributes from District 12 of the 74th Hunger Games are…Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark!” ~ Suzanne Collins

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[neeeooon]

Can I request a fic for Alexis Ness where he has a childhood friend who had to leave and they meet years later and he finds out it wasn't because of her parents that she had to leave but turns out she actually had magic powers. She decides to make up for the years they were apart by showing him every spell he wanted to see as a child.

ty for the req(s) 🤍✨

water, salt, and a candle

childhood best friend alexis ness x fem!reader who knows magic. fantasy, angst, and slight fluff if you squint! wc: 1k

magic wasn’t real. ness finally believed that after years of his parents and siblings drilling it into his head. everything was because of science, and as he stared down at the university acceptance letter in his hand, he wondered if science was enough.

when you left, you took all the magic with you. though he’d only been a child when you moved away, ness felt calmer with you around. happier.

your parents always praised your active imagination—your unbreakable belief in worlds past the human eye. ness was scolded when asked if the tooth fairy would come and leave him money and candy like she had when you lost your first tooth. he woke up with dental floss on his bedside table and instructions from his mother on how to prevent cavities.

the day you left ruined him. not only did you take the magic with you, but you took ness’s imagination. his reason to smile. he was barely nine years old. now, at nineteen, he's supposed to be sent off to the university of his parents' choosing with nothing but a mind full of reality.

ness was packing his room, which had long been deprived of anything magical, and stopped when he heard a knock on his door. he hummed without turning at the sound of his mother's heels against the hardwood floors. "you have a friend here to visit. they're sitting on the swing out front." ness glanced at her in time to watch her disappear into the hallway. he didn't have any friends. not since you left.

tugging a large knit sweater over his head to combat the autumn chill, ness stepped outside and froze. he felt every scrap of air leave his lungs as he took a stumbling step away from you, his back hitting the doorway with a soft thud. his mouth formed the shape of your name, but nothing came out as he stared at you, eyes wide and searching.

you were on your feet before he was able to find his words, and ness felt his ears burn when a gentle smile worked its way across your lips. "hi, lex."

lex. you couldn't be real.

you've aged since ness last saw you, and he was surprised that he'd surpassed you in height. he was always looking up at you as a child, but now your head is slightly tipped to meet his eyes. "it's been a long time."

ness couldn't help but feel a bit awkward in your presence. it'd been so long since he'd last seen you, and it's clear he wasn't the same ness you left behind. you didn't waste any time before reaching a hand out into the empty space between you. "let's go for a walk. there's a lot i want to tell you." ness knew he should turn you away and return to his packing, but. you stepped forward to connect your hands and practically dragged him off the porch and into the street.

when you were children, you found a large, abandoned oak tree and made it your hideout. you'd climb the branches and pretend to cast spells while ness laughed and laughed. you didn't like how hollow his magenta eyes looked now.

it didn't take long to reach the tree, and you immediately climbed the lowest branches while ness stood behind and fiddled with a string on his sweater. "ness," you called down, gesturing for him to follow. when he didn't, you jumped back into the dirt and leaned against the bark. "how have you been?"

the question drew a surprised scoff from him. "how have i..? where have you been? you gave no warning before leaving me completely alone, and now you return like things haven't changed? i'm different now, y/n. i'm not that stupid kid who believed in magic and fairytales anymore."

"i didn't—"

"you could have called. emailed. written a letter. something to let me know you still cared. that you were okay."

"ness," you began softly, stepping forward to cup his hand between yours. "please. let me explain." you told him how your parents woke you in the middle of the night, hurriedly tossing your essentials into a suitcase before shoving it into your hands. they told you you had to go, but that you'd be okay and they'd see you soon. you remember your mother kissing your forehead, and when you woke, you were somewhere else. somewhere with magic.

you watched ness's eyes fill with skepticism that didn't fade, even after finishing your story. he shook his head and stepped out of your grasp. "i don't believe you."

you’d wished he had, but you prepared for the worst. nodding, you slowly reached into your bag and retrieved three things: a glass bottle of water, a small container of salt, and a slightly used wax candle. you ignored ness as you sat on the ground and opened the salt container, drawing a small circle in the dirt after clearing a flat space.

placing the water in the center, you lit the candle with a blink and held it in your hands as ness dropped across from you. “how did you..?”

“this was your favorite as a kid, remember? the spell you always wished you knew.” you watched the color drain from ness’s face. “i—”

“focus on what you lost, ness,” you soothed, keeping your eyes locked on his. ness’s body thrummed with adrenaline and something he hadn’t felt since you left: wonder. he gripped onto that feeling, holding it close to his chest as he remembered what it was like to feel love and happiness and hope for more.

your gasp forced ness to open his eyes, and when he did, he saw the flame of the candle angled away from him and toward you. he didn’t feel any breeze against his exposed skin, nor did the leaves bristle.

“a spell to find what was once lost,” ness breathed, and your eyes glistened when you met his once again. “what did you lose, ness?”

“my happiness.”

the idea sounded better in my head lol 🪄

[aspenmissing]

Hiii! This is my first time asking for a request, hehe. I have fallen in love with your writing ever since Arcane. Im such a hug fan. So I see that you can write resident evil 🙈 I was hoping if you could make Leon and reader are best friend since childhood but never had a chance to confess to each other after their high school. Hahaha, you can add more stuff in the story

Sorry for being awkward, and i dont know what to add. I hope you don't mind. I'm a hug fan of resident evil 🙈

ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ ᴛᴡᴏ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅꜱ

ʟᴇᴏɴ ᴋᴇɴɴᴇᴅʏ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ || ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ/ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ-ɪꜱʜ? || 3656 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ || ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ꜱʟᴏᴡ-ʙᴜʀɴ? ᴄᴀɴᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏɴ-ᴄᴀɴᴏɴ ꜱᴛᴜꜰꜰ!

ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀ: ʜᴇʟʟᴏᴏᴏᴏᴏ ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛᴇʀ! ᴡᴇʟᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ꜱɪᴅᴇ, ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ! ɪ ᴀᴍ ꜱᴏ ɢʟᴀᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ, ᴇɴᴏᴜɢʜ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴇɴᴅ ɪɴ ᴀ ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ, ᴀ ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ɪ ꜰᴜʟʟʏ ʟᴏᴠᴇᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏᴇᴅ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ!! ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏ ɴᴇᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴀᴘᴏʟᴏɢɪꜱᴇ, ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴇɴᴏᴜɢʜ ɪɴꜰᴏʀᴍᴀᴛɪᴏɴ! ꜱᴏ ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ! <3 <3

ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ʟᴇᴏɴ

You and Leon first met on a bright summer afternoon when you were both six years old. The neighbourhood park buzzed with the joyful noise of children running, shouting, and playing. The air smelled of fresh-cut grass and sticky lemonade from the nearby stand. You sat alone on the swing, clutching a scruffy stuffed animal that had seen far better days — its fur was matted, and one eye was missing. It was your most treasured companion, and you held it tightly, feeling both comforted and a little shy.

Leon’s eyes found you almost immediately. His wide, earnest gaze was full of curiosity and something gentle — a kindness rare for a kid his age. He approached carefully, as if not to startle you.

“Hi, I’m Leon,” he said, flashing a grin that was all teeth and warmth. “Want me to push you?”

You hesitated for a beat, unsure if strangers could be trusted, but there was something about him that felt safe. You nodded, barely able to believe that this small act — someone wanting to push you on a swing — might be the start of something special.

He jumped onto the swing behind you, and with steady hands, he pushed you higher and higher, the wind rushing past your face. You laughed, a sound bright and light, as you felt yourself soaring — free and unafraid.

=

From that moment on, Leon was always there. Your days filled with him became your favourite adventures. You discovered you shared a love for all things thrilling and imaginative. Together, you created stories where you were heroes battling dragons in the woods behind your houses, pirates hunting treasure in the tall grass, and astronauts exploring the stars from your backyard.

You both knew every secret hideout and shortcut — the hollow tree where you stashed your treasures, the tiny creek where the water sparkled like diamonds in the sun, and the old abandoned swing set where you dared each other to swing higher and higher, testing your courage.

You scraped your knees and elbows together during races and climbs, the sting softened by Leon’s quick bandages and easy laughter. When either of you fell, there were tears, but you wiped them away for each other, promising “Next time, I’ll catch you.”

Sleepovers were sacred rituals. Under the soft glow of flashlights and tangled blankets, you whispered secrets into the night. Your voices were small and hushed, blending with the quiet sounds of crickets and the rustling leaves outside the window. You talked about your dreams — who you wanted to be when you grew up, what adventures you hoped to have, and the silly fears that sometimes kept you awake.

=

As you got older and entered elementary school, your friendship blossomed into something almost legendary among your classmates. Teachers would smile knowingly when you both answered questions in unison, or when you passed secret notes full of silly doodles and inside jokes.

You had your own language — nicknames only you understood. Leon was “Bullet” for his lightning-fast reflexes, and you were “Picasso” for the way you could paint whole worlds in your mind and on your canvas, creating beauty out of nothing. You called each other by these names in the hallways, grinning at the confused looks of others who didn’t quite get it.

Leon was the brave one. Always the first to stand up if someone teased you, always quick to jump in when something felt unfair or scary. When thunderstorms rolled in, he’d sit with you until you felt safe enough to sleep. He was the one who’d hold your hand tight if the dark felt too big.

You were the calm one, the thinker. You loved to plan your next adventure or solve puzzles you found in books. When Leon was frustrated or worried, you knew just how to calm him down — a quiet word, a gentle smile, a reminder that together, there was nothing you couldn’t face.

You celebrated birthdays with homemade cakes and endless laughter. Sometimes you would surprise each other with little gifts — a comic book you found at the library, a friendship bracelet woven from colourful threads, or a carefully folded paper airplane with a secret message inside.

Summer breaks were magical. Days stretched endlessly, filled with video games, bike rides, and ice cream runs. You’d stay up late, your rooms lit only by the glow of the TV screen, competing in silly contests and making up stories about your favourite characters.

No matter what happened, you knew that Leon was your person. Your best friend, your partner in crime, your secret keeper.

And beneath all the laughter and shared adventures, there was a quiet feeling neither of you dared to name yet — a feeling that maybe, just maybe, this friendship was something more.

But then came high school, with its sprawling halls and new expectations — a whole new world to navigate, filled with pressures and possibilities that neither of you had quite imagined as kids.

At first, you both still tried to hold onto what you had. You’d meet up after school, stealing moments between classes to laugh and catch up.

“Hey, Bullet,” you’d joke, nudging him as you walked down the hallway.

“Picasso,” he’d grin back, eyes lighting up. “Still painting your own world while the rest of us get lost in the noise?”

You’d laugh, the old comfort settling in like a warm blanket.

But soon, your own worlds began to pull you in different directions.

=

You found yourself drawn deeper into your art classes, where the chaos of teenage life melted away in the swirl of colours and textures. The quiet hum of the studio became your sanctuary — a place where you could lose yourself for hours, painting dreams on canvas, sketching the people you saw, or just letting your mind wander.

One afternoon, as you packed up your brushes, Leon caught you just outside the art room.

“You’re really talented, you know,” he said quietly, watching you fold your sketchbook. “Have you thought about art school?”

You smiled, a little wistfully. “Maybe. I want a place that feels… mine. Somewhere peaceful.”

He nodded, his expression serious. “I get that. I’m headed somewhere too, but it’s not peaceful.”

=

Meanwhile, Leon’s focus sharpened in a different way. His days were packed — early morning workouts, late nights at the police academy, drills and training that pushed him harder than ever. There was a fire in him, a fierce dedication fueled by a deep sense of justice and a need to protect the people he cared about.

You admired that determination, watching from afar as he grew stronger, more confident. But with every step he took toward his dreams, he seemed to pull further away.

One evening, you managed to catch him on the phone.

“Hey, Picasso,” he said, voice tired but warm.

“Hey, Bullet. Long day?”

“Yeah… feels like I’m running just to keep up.”

You hesitated, wanting to say more, but only managed, “I miss hanging out.”

“Me too,” he replied softly. “We’ll make time. I promise.”

=

The little things started to change first. The texts that once came like clockwork — casual invites to hang out, excited commentary about movies or games — slowed to an occasional message.

One night, you stared at your phone after reading his text: “How’ve you been?”

You typed a reply — “Good. Busy with projects. You?” — but hesitated before sending it, the words feeling so small compared to what you really wanted to say.

Phone calls, once full of laughter and long conversations, became less frequent. When you did talk, the silences stretched longer, weighted with all the things left unsaid.

“Do you ever think about… us?” you finally asked once, voice barely above a whisper.

There was a pause on the other end.

“I do,” Leon admitted. “More than I should.”

You swallowed hard. “Me too.”

And yet, you both held onto the connection you had — however fragile it felt. Neither of you wanted to admit how much distance was growing, afraid that saying it out loud might break the bond forever.

It was like you were two trains running on parallel tracks, close enough to see each other, but never quite close enough to reach out.

=

There were moments, though, when the old closeness flashed back — a shared smile in the hallway, a random text full of memories, a familiar joke that made your heart skip.

“Remember when you tried to climb that tree and got stuck?”

Leon teased in a text one afternoon.

You smiled so wide your cheeks hurt. “How could I forget? You had to call my mom.”

Those moments were bittersweet reminders of everything you had, and everything slipping away.

You found yourself wondering what might have been — the words you never said, the feelings you never voiced. The quiet “I like you” that hovered just out of reach, trapped behind fear and timing.

Leon probably wondered too, though neither of you ever admitted it.

Still, life pulled you forward, carrying you both toward futures you dreamed of but couldn’t quite share anymore. The years stretched on, and the distance grew, but somewhere deep down, the bond remained — a silent promise that no matter what, you would always have a place in each other’s hearts.

Tonight was one of those rare nights when fate seemed to pull you both back into the same orbit, as if the years and distance between you were suddenly shrinking with the simple ping of a message.

You were sitting alone in your small apartment — a cozy, well-lived-in space tucked above a quiet street — the soft hum of the city filtering through the cracked window. The only light came from your laptop screen, casting a pale glow across the room. The walls were lined with framed certificates and awards you’d earned in college — your art degree, a few recognitions for your work in local exhibitions, and a scholarship plaque that still made you smile quietly to yourself. They were reminders of the dreams you’d been chasing, a testament to the life you’d been building on your own.

A canvas sat propped against one corner, half-finished brush strokes catching the light. A scattered array of paints and pencils spilled from an open box on your desk, mingling with the soft pages of a sketchbook that was worn from constant use. The scent of turpentine and fresh paint filled the air, grounding you in a moment of calm.

Just as you reached for your coffee mug, your phone buzzed sharply on the table, breaking the silence.

You glanced down, eyes widening at the sight of a message from an unknown number:

“Hey Picasso? I’m in your city for a bit. Want to meet up?”

Your heart skipped a beat — the familiar name, the unexpectedness of it all.

Your fingers trembled slightly as you typed back almost immediately:

“Yes. I’d like that.”

You stared at the screen for a moment longer, breath caught somewhere between hope and nerves. The years since you last saw him played back in your mind — the laughter, the stolen secrets, the silence that grew between you.

For the first time in a long time, it felt like maybe, just maybe, there was a chance to bridge the gap.

You set the phone down and stood up, moving over to the window. The city lights twinkled outside, each one a promise of something waiting to be found — maybe even the friendship, or something more, that you and Leon had never quite been able to say aloud.

The café where you agreed to meet was exactly the kind of place you both needed — quiet and warm, a little refuge from the relentless noise and rush of the city outside. It was one of those hidden gems, tucked between a faded bookstore and a narrow florist shop, a place where the streets seemed to slow just enough to catch their breath. The soft amber lights hung from the ceiling like suspended lanterns, casting a gentle glow over the worn wooden tables, each scar and nick on their surfaces a story in itself. Shelves lined the walls, heavy with dog-eared novels, thick volumes on art and philosophy, and clusters of potted plants whose green leaves reached toward the muted light as if seeking warmth from within.

The rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee—deep, dark, and inviting—mingled with the subtle sweetness of cinnamon and vanilla from the baked goods displayed behind the counter. You could almost taste the dense chocolate croissants, the buttery scones, and the flaky puff pastries just from the air alone. Somewhere just beyond your hearing, the soft hum of indie music played, a playlist curated with quiet voices and slow rhythms, wrapping the space in a gentle cocoon of intimacy.

You arrived early, nerves fluttering like a trapped bird in your chest. The café door closed softly behind you, the familiar chime barely audible as you stepped inside, a small, delicate sound that felt like an invitation. Your fingers trembled slightly as they twisted and untwisted the strap of your bag, the motion both grounding and futile in quieting the storm of anticipation that churned inside you. Your eyes darted around the room, drinking in every detail: the flicker of candlelight in glass jars on each table, the steam rising in lazy spirals from half-empty mugs, the soft murmur of quiet conversations weaving like threads in the background.

Usually, the familiar warmth of the café soothed you, wrapping around your nerves like a well-worn blanket. But tonight, your mind raced far ahead—imagining every possible outcome, from the joy of seeing him again to the ache of realizing how much time had passed between you. You caught your reflection in the glass of the window, startling for a moment at the person looking back. The faint lines beneath your eyes spoke of long nights spent hunched over canvases, paint-streaked fingers tracing the edges of dreams. Your hair, pulled back loosely, betrayed the casual effort you put into appearances these days. And then there was the slight curl of a hopeful smile—the kind of smile that had been buried beneath layers of exhaustion and doubt but now, in this soft light, felt ready to bloom again.

Your gaze drifted slowly around the walls, resting on the few prints and certificates you’d carefully hung here. Delicate watercolors, soft and intricate, captured quiet moments—a pale blossom unfurling, a bird frozen in flight, the city skyline caught at dusk. Each piece was a fragment of your journey, small victories from local competitions that had felt like validation in a world that often dismissed dreams like yours. Nearby, the framed diploma from art school gleamed quietly, a reminder of years spent grinding through classes, sacrificing sleep and social life for a future that had always seemed just out of reach. It was a testament to the path you’d chosen—a world far from the chaos and shadows of your childhood, and yet, tonight, somehow, all of it felt tangled together again.

You glanced down at your watch, willing time to do anything but move at its steady pace. You wanted it to speed up and bring him through that door, or slow down and give you a few more moments to steady your racing heart. Your pulse thudded unevenly in your chest—anticipation, anxiety, hope—all tangled into one complicated knot.

And then, finally, the café door swung open with a gentle jingle, and there he was.

Leon Kennedy.

He stepped inside with a confident, purposeful stride, but there was something about the way he moved—hesitant, almost careful—like a man stepping back into a place from his past, wary yet longing. He looked older now, taller, his lean athletic frame unmistakably the same boy who’d once raced through school hallways with you, dodging lockers and laughter. His dark hair was shorter, a little messier, falling casually over his forehead in a way that softened his sharp features. But those eyes—the bright, piercing eyes flecked with gold in the soft afternoon light—were exactly the same. They held that familiar spark you remembered so vividly: warm, alive, and quietly fierce. There was a perfect balance in the way he carried himself, blending the hard edges carved by experience with a lingering boyish charm, like a soldier who hadn’t yet lost his humanity.

You froze for a moment, breath caught tight in your throat, the world narrowing down to just him and the space between you. Then, almost without thinking, you moved forward. The gap closed with a breathless, tight hug—one that squeezed all the years of distance, silence, and uncertainty into a single heartbeat. Your head rested against his shoulder, and you could feel the steady, reassuring rhythm of his heart beneath your cheek, a grounding pulse in the swirl of your emotions.

When you finally pulled apart, his smile was the same crooked, heart-melting grin you’d always adored—the one that made your heart ache and hope all at once.

“Picasso,” he said softly, that nickname only the two of you shared, a secret from your childhood when your art was your sanctuary, a language you’d spoken without words.

“Bullet,” you replied, laughter bubbling up despite the nerves. It was the nickname he’d earned for his lightning-fast reflexes and unyielding spirit, the one that stuck even now.

You both eased into the small wooden chairs at a table near the window. The soft afternoon light caught the flecks of gold in his eyes, making them seem almost alive with a quiet, vibrant emotion. Around you, the café hummed softly with life, but it felt as though the world had slowed down just for this moment — the noise faded into a gentle backdrop, irrelevant compared to the fragile intimacy sitting before you.

For a long stretch of time, you simply looked at each other, words tangled in your throats, caught beneath the weight of all those unspoken years. Memories swirled in your mind like drifting autumn leaves—the childhood games played under the summer sun, the whispered secrets traded beneath starry skies, the moments when you’d been each other’s anchor in stormy seas. The way his laugh had once rung out so freely, the quiet comfort of knowing you had a place in each other’s lives, no matter what.

Leon was the first to break the silence, his voice low but steady, carrying the quiet strength you remembered so well.

“I’ve been keeping an eye on you,” he said, a shy, almost bashful grin tugging at his lips. “Saw your socials… your art. The exhibitions, the awards — Picasso, you’re incredible.”

A blush rose to your cheeks, a warmth flooding through you that had little to do with the café’s soft lighting. Your fingers brushed nervously over the edge of the table, suddenly self-conscious but also proud. To have him see you this way — not as the kid who once painted on scraps of paper in the schoolyard, but as someone who had fought to make their dreams real — it was more moving than you could put into words.

“I never thought you’d notice,” you admitted softly, voice barely above a whisper.

“How could I not?” Leon leaned in slightly, eyes shining with something like awe and something deeper, more tender. “It’s like I’m seeing the world through your eyes now — every stroke, every color… I’m proud of you.”

His words settled over you like a gentle fire, melting away the cold edges of doubt and fear that sometimes crept in. You smiled, finally finding your voice again.

“What about you? What’s your story these days? What have you been up to all these years?”

Leon’s expression grew serious, the easy smile slipping away as his jaw tightened just slightly under the weight of the path he’d chosen.

“I’m heading to Arklay County in about a few months,” he said quietly, eyes flicking toward the window as if the words were heavy to say. “Raccoon City, more specifially. I’m going to be a police officer.”

Your heart skipped a beat. Raccoon City — a place you’d heard about only in hushed whispers and stories, a city with a shadowed reputation looming like a storm gathering on the horizon.

“That’s… huge, Leon,” you breathed, eyes wide with a mixture of surprise and something else—worry, maybe? “You’re really doing it.”

He nodded firmly, the set of his shoulders straight and determined. “Yeah. It’s the start of something new. But it’s also scary. A lot of unknowns waiting out there.”

You reached out instinctively and squeezed his hand, wanting to offer comfort and strength even if you couldn’t fully understand what he was about to face.

“You’ve always been the brave one,” you reminded him softly. “If anyone can do it, it’s you.”

Leon looked down at your hand, then back up with a soft, grateful smile—the kind that made you believe in hope again.

“Thank you, Y/N. It means more than you know.”

You both leaned back into the moment, the years of silence finally giving way to a conversation that felt like a fresh start—filled with hope, shared memories, and the fragile but powerful possibility of whatever came next.

And in that quiet café, surrounded by the scent of coffee and old books, it felt like the world might just be ready to give you both another chance.

“I missed this,” Leon finally said softly, voice thick with emotion. “Missed you.”

“I did too,” you admitted, warmth pooling in your chest.

The years of silence, the missed chances, the unspoken feelings — it all melted away in that moment.

Leon reached across the table and took your hand in his, fingers curling around yours with a tenderness that made your heart race.

“Maybe it’s not too late,” he said.

You smiled, the slow beat of your heart echoing the hope you both held close.

“No, Leon. Maybe it’s just the beginning.”

[dreamwatch]

There Goes My Hero

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest

Day #12 - Prompt: Ow! | Word Count: 999 | Rating: T | CW: language, canon typical violence, fat shaming, mention of blood, injuries, mention of past bullying | POV: Matt | Pairing: Steddie | Tags: Angst, hurt/comfort, violence, fighting,

This was the very first thing I wrote for CCFest back in April!

****

Matt’s not a fighter. He’s not brave. 

He spent years skulking around the halls of Hawkins High, desperately trying to make himself smaller, to make himself invisible. Until Eddie came along and told them it was all bullshit anyway. Until Eddie came along, bigger and bolder than everyone else, a huge willow tree for them all to take shelter under.

Fighting to him, to all of them he thinks, is learning to take a slap and then walking it off. Saying ’it’s fine, it doesn’t even hurt’ as you wipe the blood from under your nose. Not biting back when they call you a fat fuck.

Fighting to him is just taking it.

And that’s mortifying, honestly, fucking pathetic, but he just wanted to keep his head down, play his music and DnD, and be left alone.

So he doesn’t know where it came from, so suddenly, although maybe that’s a lie. Like saying it doesn’t hurt when your face stings, and you’re standing in the hallway, humiliated. If he digs deep, really thinks hard about it, then it’s probably years of pent-up anger. Of having his shit stolen from his locker, of seeing his friends getting picked on and not having the guts to do a fucking thing about it other than watch and hope you’re not next. So yeah, blind, impotent rage, right? The kind that makes good people go off in the world and do bad things. 

This was his bad thing.

He hopes the other guy is okay, mostly because he doesn’t want to go to jail. He hasn’t seen Eddie since they got brought in to the ER, and he really hopes he’s okay. His face looked a mess. 

This was the eighth show on their little midwestern tour. They put it together themselves, all piled into the van, and Jeff’s station wagon (they’d laughed when he bought it, but it was a genius idea in retrospect), and just took off for a few shows over the summer. Nothing big. No real agenda other than to play and get the fuck out of Hawkins.

It would be understating it to say that Hawkins had done a number on Eddie. They still have no idea what happened. Eddie told them he got bit by dogs which just made them angry, honestly, because the stench coming off that bullshit was stifling. What they do know for sure is that he nearly died. That whatever happened left him hollowed out, physically and mentally. That it broke something in their friend, which broke something in them.

Watching Eddie recover was hard. They were all sure the band was over but in some fucked up, twisted, alternate-dimension weirdness, Steve Harrington got Eddie to play again. 

Steve. 

Harrington. 

What the fuck?

And fuck knows what he did, or said, or bribed Eddie with, but it worked. He picked up the guitar again, trading lead for rhythm with Jeff while he built up his strength and coordination, but for all that he was frustrated the light came back on. Eddie was back.

Matt wasn’t letting anyone take him away again.

It only took one show at The Hideout to know they were never going to play there again. Eddie was a curiosity now, something to be gawped at. Someone thought it would be hilarious to throw a cheerleader’s pom pom onto the stage, and it sent Eddie into a spiral. He holed up in the bathroom and wouldn’t let anyone in until Steve showed up and alikazam! the door opens. They were in there for an hour. Eddie was red-eyed and a little dazed afterwards and that was the last night they ever played in Hawkins. 

They’re in Des Moines when it happens. The show was great, objectively fucking awesome. There must have been a couple of hundred people in there, and the manager wanted them back, people asked for tapes. It couldn’t have gone any better.

So of course it went to shit.

They’d barely opened the back of the van to load up before some six-foot giant grabbed Eddie by the collar and punched him so hard in the face that blood sprayed from his nose, landing on Gareth beside him. There was a moment of complete silence, where it felt like the world just stopped or his vision had just whited out. And then—

He’s never punched anyone before, is the thing. He didn’t know there were ways you’re supposed to hold your hand, your thumb, and even if he did he’s not sure he would have done it anyway. What he does know, now at least, is that he has a mean fucking right hook. Jeff was trying to push the giant off Eddie, and Gareth was standing there with Eddie’s blood on the side of his face, shocked to shit to be fair to him, so the asshole didn’t get a second to register Matt approaching, hitting him square in the jaw and onto his ass.

And he doesn’t know what happened after that really, just that he was kicking him, boot slamming into the soft side of the man on the floor, over and over until it was Eddie, face like an abattoir floor, that pulled him off.

He mulls it over while he waits for an X-Ray. There’s definitely something broken, he can feel the grinding when he moves his hand and it hurts like a motherfucker. They still had a few shows to go. He ruined the tour with one punch. 

Jeff opens the curtain and sits next to him on the bed.

“How’s the hand?”

“Fucked. How’s Eddie’s nose?”

“Fucked.”

They sit in silence, shoulder-to-shoulder, self-declared best friends forever. 

“I can’t believe someone recognised him out here,” Jeff mutters, maybe to himself, Matt can’t be sure.

They don’t say it, but they’re both thinking it; Hawkins is going to follow Eddie everwhere. Follow them everywhere. And they can’t keep fighting their way out of things every time it catches up with them.

[fujii-draws]

VERY long Ribbons/Grovyle tangent cause I do not talk about them nearly enough.

[Instead of the usual, “Hero finding a young Treecko in the future.” It’s switched around to “What if Grovyle found Hero when they were young.”]

~The Past~

—————

-Grovyle was going on one of his usual dungeon crawls to stock up on items— until he heard nearby sniffling. It’s there in that moment where he finds Ribbons; hiding under the stump of a hollow tree curled up in a ball. The sight of a small, terrified girl burned in the back of the wood gecko’s mind.

He lowered himself to the ground, his snout and head poking out as he got a good look at the human— Something that made her reel back and startled her; before Grovyle offered her a smile. Something the stoic grass-type rarely ever did. Coaxing her to come out.

And although very hesitantly, she did. Slowly coming out before he extended a hand towards her. Helping her outside the stump.

Grovyle didn’t know why… but seeing her so disheveled and terrified… it reminded the grass-type of himself when he was a Treecko. He decides to then to take Ribbon’s under his wing. Holding her hand as he walked her back to his main hideout… with the company of two other Pokémon.

-He introduced the small human to the pink fairy and ghost-type. Celebi was overwhelmingly cheerful. So much so that her mischievous energy rubbed off on Ribbons in the future. Much to Grovyle and Dusclops(and eventually Dusknoir’s) dismay…

But it was also probably why Ribbons made it her mission to use this newfound ability from the fairy-type to do the impossible— to get Grovyle to smile. A rarity in which even the time-traveling pixie and cyclopean ghost never managed to accomplish. Ribbons remembered how the grass-type done so just to comfort her during their first meeting… and she wanted to see it again.

-She tried many times with her antics, only to end in failure. Barely making a dent in the grass-type’s stoic demeanor. The first time she managed to get a chuckle made the other two stare wide-eyed towards the snickering grass-type— and back at the human, somehow being the only one to ever make him emote so much. She didn’t know why he tried to hide his smile. She loved it. (And Grovyle did not overhear this detail and began to open up only specifically around her because of it. Nope.) (and it’s not a power she holds over him for many years to come.)

(That isn’t to say Ribbon’s didn’t slightly rub off on him too, with her naivety and innocent, trusting behavior. Grovyle being much, much more reserved and cautious… before she came along.)

-Dusclops… was interested. A human? In the future no less? It was unheard of.

…But he also thought that Ribbons would be a detriment to their group with how… little and runt sized she’d been, barely surviving as is. Acting rather closed off towards the human at first, not trying to get attached. That is until she begins seeking Dusclops out. Trying to befriend the slightly large mummy-looking Pokémon. Although slowly— she ends up winning him over. The Beckon Pokémon now having unintentionally formed a bond with the weakest link in their quartet due to how… oddly endearing she was. A mistake he’d repeat yet again in the present.

Even with her dimensional scream ability making Ribbons a somewhat useful assest to the team— the three take on the roll of her guardians in a weird way. Dusclops being the one to fret the most over her despite his dismissive behavior towards her in the beginning (hm.)

And then there’s Grovyle.

The one who probably spent the most time with her. He saw just how terrified and scared she was of the world around her. Grovyle tried his best to teach her how to survive— training her physically. (as Dusclops taught her mentally/intellectually)

Something Grovyle started to notice was how her demeanor changed when the grass-type was close. Acting almost… braver? Confident? It was like she was drawing her strength from him… something that made the grass-type a little emotional as her confidence grew more with each day. (She told him as much. Hoping some day she could be a role model to someone the same way Grovyle was to her.)

…He also noticed that the humans were also really susceptible to the cold, much like his cold-blooded lizard self—the brunette-haired girl having no real source of warmth around her neck… Grovyle dug through his matted Treasure bag, asking for her to come over. Before tying on a brown, Patsy ribbon around her neck. An item that she’d grow to love and cherish for many, many years.

The human girl absolutely adored the gift, thanking Grovyle before hugging him suddenly. Running off to show the other two her newfound item.

-She’d fidget and re-tie it whenever it slightly loosened around her neck… it was then the grass-type Pokémon finally decided on a name for her. Up until that point, she didn’t have a name— the other three opting to call her things like “human girl” “sweetie” or “kid/kiddo” (Dusclops, Celebi, and Grovyle in that order.)

So when Grovyle decided that her new name would be “Ribbons”… she kept it.

(this also explained why when inside of Wigglytuff’s room… Ribbons stared at the Green Aura Bow, before rejecting the item harshly. Her claws gripping onto the brown scarf around her neck.) (…although the color of the bow comforted her)

-The two end up forming an unspoken familial bond. Ribbons seeing Grovyle as her older brother… and the grass-type did her baby sister. This was further solidified by the way Ribbons followed him everywhere and copied his mannerisms. All the way down to his scrunched up, embarrassed face. (Something that greatly entertained the other two Pokémon.) Even if Grovyle wasn’t the best at showing how much she meant to him with his sternness for her to stay hidden and close whenever they traveled, or for her to stop goofing off so much, or his relatively stoicalness… Ribbons knew he did so because of how much he cared. He cared too much. Not wanting anything bad happening to her to the point that he’d more often than not sacrifice things to his detriment, but for her benefit. (Offering her all of the apples he found, taking the brunt of the damage from vicious Pokémon… ) It was one of the main things the two argued over.

-This… was also something Ribbons picked up on and inherited besides his courage. Something that Grovyle never forgave himself for. He never wanted her to adopt his self-destructive, reckless behavior.

-Another thing was his inability to tell her the full truth. He never wanted to scare her with the information of their disappearances. So the grass-type never told Ribbons (and made sure the other two promised him to never do so aswell.) (Until Dusknoir promptly breaks said promise out of desperation to tell Ribbons the gravity of their situation after the Stoneship fight. Grovyle glaring daggers towards the Ghost-type before hearing Ribbon’s quiet, yet terrified “W-What..?” Falling back on her old fears when she was once human—Grovyle taking his attention fully off of Dusknoir to try and comfort her.)

But even after any heated argument. Grovyle will find the human girl coming back to sleep right next to him on his hay bed, still very much frustrated with the lizard… but not pushing her away when she snuggled up to him. Grovyle reciprocated the hug right back— putting his head over hers.

Out of her relationships with the three, her bond with Grovyle was the most unbreakable.

…So when Darkrai threw the attack that disoriented the two, Grovyle gripping Ribbons’s arm as tightly as possible. His claws beginning to even tear into her skin. (A scar on her paw that never went away. She uses it as a reminder to show the woodland gecko how hard he tried to save her whenever he felt guilty.) Trying so desperately to not lose her— even if it meant being thrown out of the passage of Time aswell—

…It’s Ribbons who lets go, smiling up so brokenly at her older brother, before disappearing out the passage. And the grass-type can only watch in horror, as the self-sacrificial behavior Ribbons inherited from him came back to bite Grovyle in the worst way imaginable.

By the time Grovyle lands in the present— his claws are trembling wildly. Not even realizing his own tears began to mix in with the rain from the thunderstorm.

——————

~The Present~

——————

When he’s collecting the Time Gears alone— the desperation of it all comes back full force. If he lost her, the least he can do is finish this mission. For the future. For her.

-When Grovyle sees Ribbons for the first time in the Northern Desert, he doesn’t recognize her as an Eevee. But the item around her neck and voice both sound so eerily similar. As if this random Pokémon was haunting him for his past failures. If anything, the similarities make Grovyle even more angry towards the quadraped Pokémon.

-Crystal lake… really sucked. Before, Ribbons didn’t know what to feel about Grovyle. On one hand, he was a wanted criminal. Threatening the lives of every single Pokémon. But on the other hand… she felt so… sad? And guilty? Why would she feel guilty? And why was it that he was apologizing every single time for every little thing he’d done? Like he’d lost his confidence in his abilities? Why does it matter. He’s a horrible, rotten— no good Pokémon…

-It was when Ribbons had to helplessly watch as he nearly killed Aimilios that her resolve did a complete 180°. The Eevee being prepared to do whatever to took to get him caught. Joining the cloaked ghost in the library whenever she could, (even if she wasn’t as smart as the Great Dusknoir or her Riolu partner. She wanted to at least give them company and be there for moral support.)

And when he’s finally… finally caught. Tied up as the Sableye walked him through the town as they cheered… Ribbons isn’t celebrating. She should be. She should be happy. So why does she feel a horrible gut feeling when their eyes meet in the crowd? And he looks seconds away from breaking down…?

-

-The whole future arc is a rollercoaster of emotions for the Eevee. Although she’s immediately with Grovyle on the plan to help him escape— she does not trust him so quick.

-No. That time was over. The second Dusknoir tried to kill them, both her (and soon Aimilios’s) tendencies to trust Pokemon blindly were thrown out the window. They’re both are glaring daggers at him when he suggests that they trust him. That ‘If he was so untrustworthy, how would they explain what Dusknoir had done back there?’ Ribbons protectively gets in-front of her partner— hissing back that ‘They aren’t going to trade one lunatic trying to kill them for another. Or did Grovyle already forget about the little incident at Azelf’s lake?’

…And even though her and Aimilios do feel safer around him. (Gut feeling/aura sensing) it just feels so terrifying to trust someone again after what the giant wraith did to them. Not only that, but he was offering to take them back to their world… so they cautiously agreed.

It’s... strange. The way he’d called out for her and Aimilios to get away when Spiritomb had him in their grasp. When they traversed dungeons as he took as many hits as possible for them…the familiarity is almost nauseating.

And when Dusknoir reveals everything, the two only stare at the cloaked ghost-type cackling. The same one they both once thought was their friend.

She and Grovyle only stare at eachother as a painful amount of time passes by. He..

He tried to kill her.

She was still alive and he almost—

The realization is what makes him give up. To concede. Begging Dusknoir to just do away with him and let the other go. Let her go.

—

-When they’re in the Sharpedo Bluff during the nighttime— Grovyle explains the situation to the two… staring at Ribbons with hopeful eyes, sharing recollections of how they once were. Of how close they’d been. Hoping that it’d re-jog her memory now that he was there to explain the situation.

…Ribbons only stares. Guilt eating away the more Grovyle retold their supposed history. How the hope slowly died in his eyes little by little when he looked at the Eevee— seeing that same, clueless expression on her face.

One of Ribbons biggest fears when it came to her amnesia was forgetting someone important to her. Always having the dreaded feeling of losing three important Pokémon to her. And now one of them was trying to kill them. Aimilios reassured her many nights that it wasn’t the case. So for that fear to become a reality— her ears slump, the Eevee’s messy, leaf-and-twigged tail curling around her in anxiety. She wants to apologize— but she only breaks away eye contact.

She forgot. She wants to remember. But she can’t she can’t she can’t-

Ribbons sees Grovyle trying to reach out for her— only for the small quadruped to back away. Still too touch-adverse from everything that went down with Dusknoir. All the Eevee can do is watch Grovyle’s expression turned into a pained one. Trying to hide the hurt in his eye with a wry smile as he slowly retracted his arm, ”Ah… right. Too soon. Forgive me.”

…It’s a very rough night on the two of them. Both Pokémon completely unaware that they’d been trying to fight back the tears threatening to spill in their eyes. Eventually overwhelming and awakening the aura pup.

-

When they rode Lapras, presumably for many hours by now by how night fell, white stars scattering across the sky as it reflected in the dark blue sea. The Riolu had slept soundly— something that couldn’t be said for the other two.

Ribbon’s curled around her partner as he slept, grooming his fur with her tongue… before looking over towards the grass-type; something very much on his mind.

Grovyle looked pensively down towards Lapras’s shell— recalling Wigglytuff’s comment about how Chatot had been his ‘invaluable partner.’ The woodland gecko gripping the strap of his treasure bag. Unaware of the Eevee slowly approaching him. He stares— unsure of what to do. The last time they’d talked was at the Bluff, when she backed away from him in fear.

…Ribbons plopped right next to the grass-type, waiting for the uncomfortable silence to pass. When she realized he wasn’t going to cut the tension, she opted to ask the lizard what she was thinking about since their talk at the bluff.

“What was it like…?”

“What…?”

“Y-yknow…W-When we were together… What was it like?”

The small Eevee repeated. Wanting to hear stories of their times together… Memory or no memory— she hated seeing Grovyle upset. Something that was practically built into her. Like it’d been second nature.

Grovyle hesitates, afraid of a repeat of last time. He looks at Ribbons who was staring up coyly… before going on to explain and further elaborate on their history. He studied her expressions, trying to get a read on when he should stop… only to be greeted with an cheerful look on her face. The same, goofy one plastered on her human-self.

Grovyle calms at the sight, continuing to looks back on memories— preferably the more lighthearted ones the woodland gecko fondly looked back on. Although within those silly memories were times when Ribbons did… admittedly some of the dumbest things he’d witnessed during their time in the future.

What makes him smile even more is how she began to look more offended. Until she’d gotten fed up with the grass-type. Claiming that she would never do anything so blatantly stupid— and that she had a scale of stupidity she was abiding by— Chatot’s words, not hers.

This gets a chuckle from the grass-type… something that almost immediately warms the Eevee’s heart. She hesitates a littles before scooting closer, fully laying her body beside Grovyle as he continued to recollect stories of their past together… listening to the older Pokémon’s droning… until she fell asleep.

…

Now Grovyle is faced with another problem. And it was in the form of his little sister sleeping soundly right next to him.

…

He knows what’ll happen to them when he puts in the Time Gears.

He knows he’ll never get another chance like this again.

…

He lays his body near Ribbon’s, curling around her tiny body protectively. Before getting what was probably the most sleep he did since he arrived in the Present…

…What he fails to notice in his comatose-like sleep… is how Ribbons scooted closer into him, cleaning his face/leaf with her tounge… before curling into Grovyle— putting her head under the grass-type’s. Purring contently.

———

…When they’re traversing through the Hidden land, the same arguments when they did in the future about Grovyle’s recklessness. Although this time around— Ribbons had been calling the kettle black in this regard. The Grass and Normal type Pokémon going back and forth… before falling silent.

And when the ghost-type returned a second time to ambush the three Pokémon, Ribbons and Aimilios opted to fight the Sableye. Meanwhile, Grovyle took on Dusknoir—Which proved to be nearly impossible. It was only when the Sableye were dealt with and the two joined Grovyle on his assault on the wraith, that Dusknoir’s attacks begun to.. slow?

They fought and fought, Ribbons having managed to get in a really nasty Bite that made the cloaked revenant roar out in pain; unintentionally slamming her against a pillar. Hard. Grovyle yells her name, trying to run to Ribbons— before being intercepted by a large fist being mercilessly being swung his way. Not offering the same hesitation he did with the young Eevee and Riolu. If there was anyone Dusknoir was willing to kill— it was him.

It was when Dusknoir gripped the Riolu to the point of him whining out in pain— that the Grass-type’s adrenaline and anger made his body move harshly to knock down the ghost-type with the slice of a Leaf Blade. Getting protectively infront of his sister …and the Riolu Grovyle had begun to start considering as his little brother. His eyes turning into cat-like slits, glaring at the revenant.

———

Dusknoir hit the Eevee a second time when the two were distracted— Ribbon’s having cried out in pain, wincing from the hit she received from the large ghost-type— closing her eyes as she anticipated for him to finished her off—

Before Grovyle shielded her— and began shoving him into the Dimensional hole.

Grovyle could only smile to himself despite how much he was struggling to keep the giant wraith at bay— Dusknoir nearly breaking out of the wood gecko’s hold.

So many times. He failed to protect Ribbons. So many times. And now…

“Though the parting hurts… the rest is in your hands!”

He could finally make it up to her.

——————

~The Future~

———————

It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that Ribbons nearly broke Grovyle’s ribcage when he returned to the present, berating and screaming at him so angrily for leaving her the way he did… while hugging him in tears as she bawled her eyes out— Grovyle reciprocating the hug with as much strength as the Eevee.

…So when she saw Dusknoir and ran, he was the one to chase after her. Celebi having stayed back with Aimilios to explain the situation to the equally confused and afraid Riolu.

-The Eevee’d hidden under another hollowed tree stump, her entire body frizzing up at the sound of the woodland gecko calling out to her. Ribbon’s brows furrowed in anger despite her fear, yelling at him for bringing the ghost-type back. Grovyle tries to fit himself inside the tiny hollowed area… before curling around Ribbons— gently explaining the situation with the cloaked ghost. He apologizes for bringing Dusknoir without warning. Knowing that he should’ve better prepared those two.

-It’s because of Ribbons refusal to be anywhere near/talk to Dusknoir, that the Eevee has the opportune time to reconnect with Grovyle. Spending the first three years to catch up, talk, do jobs, drink at Spinda’s. Becoming even comfortable enough to start bantering with eachother, and squabbling like siblings. (and yes they partake in Cain Instinct ™️ through harmless paw baps/“oh no gravity’s increasing on me” “YOURE CRUSHING ME YOU ROTTEN BROTHER.”) Those two being practically attached to the hip as they constantly stayed side by side. Even having slept in the same hay-bed together the first year. (Separation anxiety is doing wonders.)

Grovyle is also Ribbon’s go-to hiding spot from Dusknoir whenever he’s near— not-so-discreetly hiding behind the woodland gecko anytime he’d gotten close. Something that he was more than willing to do, being a barrier being the giant specter and minuscule Eevee.

Grovyle is also the one constantly reminding Ribbons that if she feels uncomfortable/unsafe around Dusknoir, that she can come to him at any moment. And he’d talk to him. (Or smack him upside the head with a leaf blade, earning the gecko a laugh from his little sister.)

But… He knows she’s lying through her fangs when she says she’s fine with him being around. (Chalk that up to Older brother instincts) Which is why Grovyle goes to Dusknoir anyways to tell him to minimize his presence around her as much had possible in the beginning— something the wraith was already ahead/aware of.

-The Eevee also tries to repay the favor by reminding Grovyle that he actually isn’t the POS, horrible brother he thinks himself to be with the amount of times he failed to save her. Redirecting his attention to her paw scar and nuzzling the self-deprecating grass-type. Grovyle doesn’t believe himself to be the right guardian for her… but she trusts him anyways.

-And you KNOW by the time she evolves— he’s fighting back a copious amount of tears. (Dusknoir might be getting choked up over Ribbons and Aimilios’s evolutions— but Grovyle looks like he’s seconds away from actually tearing up. Just so happy to be alive to witness his baby sister having the chance to actually grow up.)

—————

Anyways!! that’s what I have for now!!!! Just mainly putting this here to give more insight to their dynamic :) (as well as have a little library of drawing ideas for Grovyle/Ribbons when the mood strikes.)

[nikki-tine]

A species I've been thinking about rent-free for a while and finally brought visual to recently - the Mynx! These lil dudes get their name from a funny little saying ("Oh, you're such a minx!") + the animal species name (The Mink).

The first one is the Wild Mynx, and they are a bit slimmer, have silky-smooth fluff and come in the natural colors you'd probably expect a creature like it to have. They're a little skittish, but that skittish demeanor is what they rely on for survival and for skill in aiming at their desired target.

The second one is Domesticated, naturally evolved to become loving house pets, and as a result they come in many more wild color combinations (this one is Bigender-colored!) - their diet is much more flexible (they love fruits and sweets especially, though their primary form of nutrient "feeding" still applies in a similar way to how Wild Mynxes "feed" overall)! Their fur is described to be cloud-like and puffy. They're much more chill than their wild counterparts and will just lounge around if you let them. Their build is a tiny bit stockier, and it's not uncommon for pet Mynxes to get a little chubby, too.

These lil guys overall feed upon ticklish laughter by wiggling under the clothing of the poor lee who interacts with 'em in most cases (They also feed off of the funny yelps and sounds someone makes in having something fuzzy wiggling and tickling at them under their clothes but shh). As a result, it's always a good idea if you're looking around to check bushes or tree hollow hideouts. chances are you may hear a few squeaks out of them!

They're not really that small for being visually similar to Ferrets, Minks, Weasels etc, so when they target someone it's pretty visible what's going on to onlookers assuming it happens in the open!

[getos-widow]

All the things that could have been - Geto Suguru x Reader

Pairing: Geto Suguru x Reader

Warnings: angst, like heavy angst, death, violence, no happy ending

a/n: Seriously, I needed a cigarette after this one. 

If that treacherous heart residing within your chest were to thump even for a beat faster it would have exploded in your chest. It echoed in your ears as if your body was a hollow trunk filled only with a heart that pumped blood solely for a purpose of loving Geto Suguru. Everything else ached - your limbs were sore and bloody from the battles that you just finished, your chest burned like the whole hell was stuck in there, and your eyes strained from the sheer amount of tears they shed. You heard an explosion coming from the Jujutsu High’s ground and you picked up your pace. A memory flooded your mind, as clear as if it was unfolding right in front of you.

 Young Geto Suguru stood under the old wisteria tree lost in his thoughts. Dressed in a traditional five-piece wedding kimono with the Geto family crest embroidered in it he watched the purple bloom with a small smile on his face. He looked so ethereal under the delicate dance of light and shadow that the gentle breeze created while toying with the cascades of fragrant flowers. You held back your tears or joy because you didn’t want to ruin the intricate makeup on your face. The sound of your sandals brought him back from whatever place he was in and he turned to face you. His breath caught in his throat as his eyes widened at the sight before him - the sight of you in your uro-uchikake, a brightly colored robe intricately embroidered in gold and silver threads.  

 “You look so beautiful, my love”, he walked towards you with a comforting smile on his handsome face and your heart skipped a beat.

 As he leaned down to kiss your forehead he heard something rustle behind you and soon after two tiny faces emerged from under your kimono tail.

 “Otosan, we want a kiss too!" Mimiko and Nanako cried in unison.

 Geto laughed loudly before picking them up.

 Please, God, let him be alive.

 The stench of curses and blood enveloped your senses and you almost threw up as you reached the gates of the place you once considered home. Everything came to a halt as you stopped and concentrated on his cursed energy. It was weak, but it was still present. Oh God, it was still present. 

 Once again you started running towards the place where you knew he would be, almost tripping over pieces of wall and broken wood structure.

 "Suguru!" you screamed as you saw his wobbling form walking down the shadowy alley.

 His head snapped in your direction.

 “What are you doing here? I told you to retreat if things go south!" He tried to sound stern but it came out as a raspy breath.

 “What have they done to you, my love?" You ran to him with shameless tears pouring down your cheeks.

 You inspected a gaping wound on a place where his right hand once was and winced at the sight.

 “It is alright, darling. I’m okay”, his tone softened as he looked at your face and slumped against the wall.

 “We need to get you to our hideout. I need to start working on you before you lose too much blood”, you wiped your eyes but the tears just wouldn’t stop pouring.

 “I’m not coming this time”, he smiled softly and cupped your face with his remaining hand.

 “What are you talking about Suguru? Of course you are coming. I’m not going to let you leave me again. I can’t live without you”, you sobbed at his touch.

 “You will be alright. You are such a strong woman, my love. I have always admired your strength and resilience”, his thumb circled on your cheek wiping away tears and dirt.

 “I don’t want to be strong Suguru. I want to be with you. I want to spend my life with you”, you snapped your head away from his touch and started pouring your cursed energy into his wound in an attempt to stop the blood from gushing out of it.

 He didn’t say a word. He just smiled that damned smile of his and closed his eyes sighing contently.

 “I will heal you and we will go away from this place and these stupid sorcerers. We will start a new life in Europe. Imagine darling: just you and I roaming through all of Europe, kissing in Paris, making love in Berlin, renewing our wedding vows in Florence. We will get to admire art and nature and life. We won’t care what happens to sorcerers or monkeys or anyone for that matter. I love you”, you babbled while healing his shoulder.

 “Darling, Satoru is here”, his voice barely a whisper.

 You froze, your hands falling to your side.

 It’s over now.

 Geto Suguru was not an easy man to love. In fact, to everyone else, he was a monster, a wretched excuse of a human being, but to you, he was just Suguru - a man who placed soft kisses on your head almost every night for nearly ten years, a man who danced with you to the sound of various foreign music you loved so much, a man with whom you parented two adopted girls, a man who killed men just because they looked at you the wrong way, a man who never ceased to tell you how much he loved you. Yet, he was also a man from whose clothes you washed off the blood of countless innocent people, a man who believed he was better just because he was born a sorcerer, a man who wanted to destroy the world as you knew it and build a new one according to his twisted fantasies. You stopped trying to change him a long time ago and started loving him for a duality that he carried around.

 Embracing the inevitable, you simply sat on Suguru’s lap and wrapped your arms around his neck. His strong arm encircled your waist bringing him closer to you as he talked to Satoru. You paid them no attention as you inhaled Suguru’s scent, for what you knew would be the last time, as you listened to his steady heartbeat. He smelled like that perfume you gifted him with. You smiled finally coming to peace with your destiny. That didn’t stop you from imagining the life you could have lived with the love of your life.

 In Naples, Italy, you sat on the floor of a small terrace in a white silk dress while cutting strawberries for a cheesecake with a large kitchen knife. Strawberry juice splashed all over the pretty dress, but you didn't care. Then Suguru appeared next to you and took your juice-covered hand. He slowly put a finger in his mouth and sucked the juice, looking at you with lust-glazed eyes. The knife fell into your lap, destroying the sensitive material forever. He smiled saying that he would buy you a new one.

Somewhere in Provence, France, you took off your sandals and walked into the house with a bouquet of lavender in one hand, and groceries in the other. You call out Suguru’s name with worry written all over your face after the scent of lavender was overpowered by the smell of something burning. He poked his head out of the kitchen with a guilty smile on his face and an almost charred chicken in his hands. He said that he wanted to surprise you with lunch, but that he didn't quite succeed.

In Switzerland, in Morcote, you argue about who will go outside to get wood for the fireplace, knowing full well that both of you hate snow. Maybe it's not because of the snow, but because of the fact that neither of you wanted to look away from Lake Lugano, whose water was being swirled and thrown in all directions by the snowstorm.

There was no death, no sorrow in any of those lives. There was only you, Geto Suguru, and eternal happiness - the one that you never get bored of, the one that fills you up again and again, the one that contradicts human nature.

 Suguru’s grip on your waist tightened before he whispered in your ear,

 “I love you and I will love you for all of the eternity”

 Those were the last words you heard before Satoru grabbed you and threw you down the alley. Everything went black as you fell into numbing unconsciousness.

 -

 Satoru walked towards your lying form after he did the most difficult task of his life. As he neared you he felt something extraordinary - your cursed energy was mixing with a new one that he had never felt before. It was the most perfect mix of yours and Suguru’s. He sighed heavily as he placed his hand on your belly. Tears filled Gojo Satoru’s eyes as he, as well, thought of lives that were never going to be lived.

 “One day we will meet, little one”, he got up and walked away, the saddest smile engraved on his face.

[euphreana]

The Shape of Truth - Chapter 19: New Plans

Masterpost

-

Ambrosius sighed as he checked his reflection in a shuttered window. Hollow eyes, shaved head, scraggly facial hair, and glasses - Nimona had been right earlier, he did look like a homeless poet. Not that that was necessarily a bad thing - the less he looked like his old self, the better. He couldn’t afford to be recognized and caught this close to freedom.

He dropped onto the couch in the middle of the hideout, not bothering to take the fake glasses off. It had taken a while to convince Nimona that he needed her to steal back the packet of Ballister’s ashes from the psych ward. It had been left behind when Nimona had rescued him from his surprise brain surgery several days prior, and just thinking about the possibility of it being thrown away made Ambrosius anxious. He would feel like he’d left part of his soul behind if he left The Kingdom without it.

After some discussion, Nimona had finally relented and flown off for the hospital in the form of a sparrow. It would be easiest for her to slip in alone, disguised as a nurse, and rummage through intake till she found where they kept patients’ belongings. Having Ambrosius with his bad leg tagging along would just be an unnecessary risk.

That discussion had been fifteen minutes ago. Fifteen minutes of Ambrosius mulling over Nimona’s ‘homeless poet’ quip she’d given before leaving. He knew it shouldn’t bother him, but…

A whirring noise caught Ambrosius’s attention - quiet, but so familiar that he could easily pick it up away from the noise of the city. It was the sound of an electric motor. No, several electric motors. Coming from outside. Then it went silent. Ambrosius felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. The noise had been close. Too close. Then came the thuds of footfalls. Ambrosius didn’t have time to react before the hideout door banged open and knights in full armor poured into the room.

“We’ve got one! Check the back for the other!” one of the knights said as they moved through the room.

Another knight grabbed Ambrosius’s arm and pulled him towards the door.

“Out!” he said with a shove.

Ambrosius stumbled as his weight landed on his bad leg, nearly collapsing. The knight didn’t miss a beat and kept pushing him anyway.

“Move it!”

Ambrosius felt like his head was spinning as he was forced from the hideout. Five hoverbikes were parked outside, accompanied by two more knights.

“Where’s your friend?” one of them asked him.

Ambrosius said nothing, terror robbing him of any words. This was it. He’d been caught. All that work on their escape plan, for nothing. Then the other knight spoke.

“The report said they thought they saw two vagrants. Maybe it was just him.”

The first knight shook her head.

“Well if there is an other one, they’re in for a surprise when they come back.”

Ambrosius kept quiet as he slowly realized the knights didn’t recognize him. They thought they were evicting squatters.

The knight behind him gave him one final shove out of the way.

“They’ve got quite the setup in there. It’ll take a while to clear out.”

All three knights glanced at the evening sky. There wasn’t much daylight left, and the shade of the trees already didn’t let much light in.

Ambrosius scrambled to think of a plan. He needed to get away. There was no guarantee the knights wouldn’t eventually realize who he was - Nimona had previously brought him his cadet duffel bag of clothes and personal items, and if the knights didn’t make the connection based on that alone, his name embroidered on the strap would definitely do the trick. He hoped against hope they somehow wouldn’t notice in their hurry to get out of here by sundown.

The knights were still talking. Something about confiscating anything worth more than 50 gold. They weren’t paying attention to him. Ambrosius glanced at the line of hoverbikes behind them. Maybe…

“Oh my Gloreth, guys look at this!” a knight’s voice came from inside the hideout.

Every head turned to look.

“It’s a bag.”

“Look familiar?”

“He has someone’s old cadet bag. Big whoop.”

“Not just anyone’s old cadet bag…”

There was a moment of silence.

“What the f-”

“You’re kidding me.”

“That is NOT…”

The three knights outside hurried to the door to see what the fuss was about. Ambrosius seized his chance. Adrenaline numbing the pain in his leg, he darted to the nearest hoverbike, his hands grabbing the keys from the ignition.

“What? Whose is it?”

“It’s Goldenloin’s!”

“How would-”

“No way, that can’t be-”

The knights were being so noisy, they didn’t hear the quiet whirr of a hoverbike motor starting. Ambrosius hurried with the controls, years of training snapping into place as he got the onboard computer up and running. It was being so slow! He glanced up at the knights, who had picked that exact moment to turn to look at him.

Time froze. Five knights stared at Ambrosius as he sat on the hoverbike, waiting for the onboard computer to finish booting. Then there were a series of shouts as the knights rushed at him. The onboard computer finally finished with muted ‘bink!’, and Ambrosius kicked the bike into gear. An armored hand grabbed the back of his shirt just as he hit the accelerator, but his own panicked grip on the bike was stronger, dragging his would-be captor several yards before a fallen log in the path tore the knight’s hand away.

Ambrosius didn’t look back. He kept his eyes on the way ahead, weaving between trees as he rocketed away. It wasn’t until he was sure the hideout was out of sight that he loosened his death grip on the handlebars and took a ragged breath. He glanced down at the four other sets of keys threaded onto his fingers. He grinned to himself. Then he gave a howling laugh of relief and flung the extra keys up and away, all landing somewhere among the miles of undergrowth. He was free!

~ ~ ~

The supplies Ambrosius and Nimona had been stockpiling were gone, along with their hideout. On top of that, the other knights knew what Ambrosius looked like now, and it wouldn’t be long before word of his changed appearance spread through the unit. Ambrosius swerved the hoverbike into a maintenance tunnel on the outskirts of the city as he tried to plan his next move.

He needed to stay out of sight as much as possible. He’d been lucky to already be wearing a hoodie he could use to hide his face from cameras. That wouldn’t save him from someone seeing him at eye level though. He’d need a new look. But first, Nimona. She had no idea their hideout had been found, and if the knights were right, she’d be walking (or flying) back into a trap. He needed to catch her before that.

Fortunately, Nimona had been traveling as a small bird while Ambrosius was on a hoverbike. Sure, she could fly directly there while he was confined to side streets and maintenance routes, but there was a good chance she hadn’t already found the ash packet and left. He could intercept her at the hospital. How to intercept her was the question.

Ambrosius knew he couldn’t roam the hospital himself in search of her. For one, he didn’t even know who or what she’d be disguised as. Secondly, whoever or whatever she was, she’d be sure to outpace him. Thirdly, given how the psych ward had been the last place to see him, Ambrosius was sure the haircut and glasses wouldn’t be enough to disguise himself. Maybe he could fool the rest of the hospital, but not them.

He parked the bike in an alley a block away from the hospital and limped to the main entrance. He didn’t want to risk being noticed sneaking around the back, and the front would be the last place they’d expect him anyway. He’d figure something out about finding Nimona… Maybe if he caused some chaos, she’d come running?

“Doctor Myles, please report to neurology. Doctor Myles.” The PA system announced as Ambrosius stepped into the lobby.

The greeter glanced him over as he entered and plastered on a fake smile. Yeah, he definitely looked like a homeless poet.

Ambrosius returned the fake smile, his brain scrambling for something to say.

“I’m… here to see someone.”

“Department?”

“Ah… I don’t know- they kinda move around departments.” he fumbled, then added “They’re a nurse.”

The greeter looked at him suspiciously. Then the PA system sounded again.

“Doctor Myles, please report to neurology. Doctor Myles.”

Idea. Ambrosius stood a little straighter.

“Could you call them?” He wracked his brain for some code word Nimona might recognize. “…Their name is ‘Goldenlocks’.” he said, using the name he’d given Blitzmeyer for the library. “Nim Goldenlocks.”

The greeter relayed the info to someone via headset, and a moment later, the announcement came over the speakers;

“Nim Goldenlocks, please report to the front entrance. Nim Goldenlocks.”

Ambrosius smiled.

“I’ll just sit over here till they get here.” he said, seating himself in the waiting area. Several tense minutes passed. Ambrosius was on the edge of his seat every time one of the nearby elevators dinged and someone emerged. Time and time again, the person walked right past him.

Ambrosius felt his jaw clenching. This wasn’t working. He needed a new plan. Fast. Maybe if he was lucky, he could wait for someone else to come in and distract the greeter long enough for him to get to an elevator. From there… maybe he’d pick a random floor and pull a fire alarm. But what would that do? He needed to cause a localized disturbance of some kind that Nimona might notice…

Just then, a blond-haired woman in scrubs came up to him.

“Ambre!” She said in a friendly tone, though Ambrosius could see confusion and frustration competing for dominance in her eyes. “What in the green world are you doing here?”

“Goldenlocks!” Ambrosius got to his feet. “So glad to see you!” He glanced past her at the greeter, who was watching.

Nimona caught the cue and jerked her head towards the elevators. Ambrosius took a step, stumbling on his bad leg in his hurry to get out of there. Nimona looked impatient. She waved to the greeter.

“Can we get a wheelchair over here?”

A minute later, Nimona was wheeling Ambrosius down the hall towards the elevators. Neither of them spoke again till they got inside one and the doors closed. Nimona hit the button for the very top floor, then morphed into her teen form.

“What the frick-frack are you doing here, boss?!”

Ambrosius filled her in as quickly as he could. Nimona groaned.

“You’re telling me… all of our supplies for leaving… are gone?!”

“I’m telling you… yeah. Yeah they’re gone. But we still have…” He felt his pockets. “Bal’s keycard and the money cards from the dorm.”

Nimona muttered something, pacing the compartment. Ambrosius held his hands up.

“There’s more money in my wallet, with the ash packet. Maybe we can rent some room and regroup.”

Nimona shook her head.

“With your ID?”

Ambrosius dug his nails into his palm. Crap. He hadn’t thought of that.

“I’ll think of something. Just get me the ash packet and my wallet.”

The elevator dinged mid-transit. Someone else was getting on. Nimona shifted back into the Goldenlocks form the moment before the doors opened and two chattering nurses got on. Without waiting, Nimona shoved past them, pushing Ambrosius out the door and down the darkened hallway beyond. This place seemed empty of staff. Ambrosius glanced back at Nimona after the elevator doors closed behind them.

“Where are we going?”

“Finding a hiding spot.” Nimona said quickly. Then she stopped in front of a door labeled ‘Records’ and waved a badge in front of the sensor. It was a badge she definitely hadn’t had a minute ago.

“Where did you-”

“Snagged it when we got off the elevator.” Nimona smirked as the door swooshed open and she wheeled him inside. “I’ll be back in a few. Try not to get in trouble!”

Next

[mysticonsheadcanons]

Yo can you do an episode where Tazma turns Gawayne into a monster Porcuswine after she cursed the chips which Gawayne is eating

Note: I've never heard of a porcuswine and it was hard finding information on it, but I did my best.

The Mysticons are hanging out at Rudick's Hollow, and Sharise acts if Gawayne was always that annoying, after Arkayna was complaining about an obnoxious social media post Gawayne posted. Arkayna admits that he's been annoying ever since they first met, but the conversation is inturrupted by Arkayna getting a frantic call from Queen Goodfey, asking her and the other Mysticons to get to the palace quickly.

They go, only to find that Gawayne was turned into a Porcuswine, a strange creature that has the body of a pig but is covered in porcupine quills. Gawayne reveals that he was turned into a Porcuswine after eating some chips. While Queen Goodfey thinks that it was company the chips came from, King Darius points out that not only did Gawayne eat that brand of chips before without any issue, but also that if it were the company, there would likely be more stories of people turning into porcuswines. They review the security camera, and see that Tazma sneaked onto the balcony, where Gawayne was eating chips, and cursed the bag. The Mysticons decide to find Tazma and find the antidote, and Queen Goodfey warns them to be careful, as Tazma could be after everyone in the royal family.

They look around for clues as to where Tazma could be, but realize that since they don't have any information about where Tazma's hideout it, they don't have a way to find her. Malvaron then passes on a message Tazma sent, saying that Arkayna and Zarya have to surrender to save Gawayne. While none of the Mysticons trust Tazma, Sharise admits she has a risky plan. She whispers the plan, worried that Tazma is spying on them, and the others agree. Zarya tells Malvaron to arrange a meeting in the forest in an hour.

At the forest, the Mysticons are making a classic trap, where a rope would hang Tazma from a tree. Arkayna says that she thinks that this plan would never work, and accuses Zarya of purposely suggesting a bad idea so Gawayne remains a Porcuswine forever. In return, Zarya accuses Arkayna of favouring Gawayne over the realm, and says that Arkayna is selfish. Arkayna storms off.

As Arkayna is walking for a bit, she notices a beam of magic coming towards her, and jumps out of the way. She turns, and sees Tazma. Arkayna doesn't seem surprised, and fights back against Tazma. During the fight, Tazma does manage to hit Arkayna with a beam of magic, forcing her back to her civilian form. Tazma laughs, and says that the spell took away all magic that was inside her, as well as all the magic she had on her, so her bangle phone won't work. Arkayna seems scared and Tazma takes Arkayna away.

Meanwhile, Em is looking at a tablet, and tells the others that the orb she put to watch for Arkayna was shut off. The others hurry to where Arkayna was going, and get there just as Arkayna is being taken away. While they don't manage to get Arkayna away from Tazma, they do manage to follow Tazma to the hideout.

They get to the hideout, and Tazma is about to turn Arkayna into a Porcuswine. The others stop her just in time, and there is a fight with the Mysticons and other porcuswines Tazma summoned. While the Porcuswines don't want to fight the Mysticons, Tazma threatens them by saying they'll turn their families into porcuswines. Tazma is defeated, and the Mysticons find the recipie for the antidote. While they have to go back to Drake City to make the antidote, they promise to return with the antidote.

They make the antidote and turn Gawayne back to normal. Gawayne admits that the Mysticons aren't completely useless, and Zarya says that maybe Gawayne is changing. Gawayne is happy that he's back to normal and doesn't say anything about the other victims, Arkayna says that he still has a long way to go. While Arkayna goes to the Astromancer Academy, as they believe the Dragon Disk will restore her powers, the others will go to the other porcuswines to give them the antidote.

[fishyourbellyout]

Relieving the Prince's Needs (Rayla x Azymondias)

By the time Rayla finished readying her weapons and packing everything she thought might be useful for tomorrow's journey to Storm Spire, everyone else in the group was already asleep in their bedrolls. She found the silence of their makeshift hideout surprising—until she remembered how early the non-moon elves turned in each night, which made her chuckle quietly to herself.

They’ll need all the rest they can get, she mused. I’ve still got some energy left—might as well check on Azy, then maybe squeeze in a little reading.

Azymondias disliked sleeping in confined spaces, so he’d chosen a small grove nestled within a hollow tree near the others, its top open to the sky. When she found him, he lay curled on a soft bed of leaves, bathed in moonlight streaming through the opening above. Maybe that’s why he’d picked this spot—perhaps the gentle light made him feel like she was watching over him from afar, a silent guardian in the night.

The thought brought a smile to Rayla’s face as she approached. The little guy was completely tuckered out, lying on his back with his snout pointed skyward, softly snoring. She decided it was best not to disturb him—

“…Oh?”

She’d intended to slip away quietly, careful not to wake him by stepping on a stray leaf or twig. But just as she was about to turn, her eyes caught on something she hadn’t noticed before—a large, red, and oddly rigid shape on Azy’s body. It was… pulsing, visibly throbbing.

A deep flush spread across Rayla’s cheeks as she realized what she was seeing. She froze, unsure whether to look away or move at all, her gaze unwillingly fixed on the… well, on that. It was far larger than anything she would have expected—not that she’d ever really given it much thought. After all, Azymondias was still a very young dragon. She’d heard rumors about the fierce stamina and intensity of dragons in mating, but she hadn’t imagined they’d develop this early.

Rayla's breath hitched as her gaze lingered on Azy. The young dragon’s body had matured significantly, and the evidence was striking. His penis, fully erect during what must have been a vivid dream—possibly his first wet dream—stood proud and imposing. It was impossibly long, stretching up toward his chest, with a girth that matched the thickness of her own arm. The flared, ribbed tip gave it an almost intimidating allure, leaving Rayla flushed and flustered as unbidden thoughts crept into her mind, making her cheeks burn even hotter.

This is… Rayla’s thoughts began to blur at the edges, a faint haze creeping into her mind, though she still held firm control over herself. Her rational side fought to take charge, analyzing the situation with growing urgency. This is terrible. Poor Azy… she thought, her heart aching for the young dragon. He’s so far away from other dragons—he must have no idea what’s happening to him. What if he wakes up? What if he’s confused or scared?

The weight of responsibility settled heavily on her shoulders. No, I can’t let that happen. I must do something… I have to… Her inner resolve strengthened, even as the conflicting emotions within her roiled like a storm.

Calling it a crazy idea would’ve been an understatement, but once Rayla set her mind to something, there was no stopping her. Her determination was unwavering, fueled by a potent mix of growing arousal and an instinctive protectiveness for the young dragon. The more she thought about it, the more her conviction solidified—this wasn’t just a good idea; it felt like the right thing to do.

Taking a steadying breath, she stepped forward, her resolve unshaken. With purpose in her stride and a mix of nerves and anticipation stirring within her, Rayla approached Azy, ready to act and confident she could make things better.

It was her duty as one of the dragon prince’s guardians, wasn’t it? The responsibility to guide and support him fell on her shoulders, and she doubted anyone else in their circle would step up for such a delicate matter. The more she thought about it, the more it felt logical—almost natural—for her to take this step. Helping Azy understand his body, sparing him the confusion and fear that might otherwise overwhelm him, was an act of care and trust. It wasn’t just a task; it was what any good friend—any true guardian—would do.

“It’s okay, little one,” she murmured softly, her voice barely above a whisper as she closed the distance to where Azy lay peacefully asleep. Gently, she straddled his small, slumbering form, her movements careful and deliberate, as though afraid to disturb him. Lowering herself with tender precision, she continued in a soothing tone, “I’ll take care of you. I won’t let your needs go unmet.”

Rayla settled herself carefully atop Azy’s stomach, her weight resting lightly on her knees as she straddled him, her eyes locked on the throbbing length before her. Up close, it was even more impressive—its subtle movements mesmerizing as it twitched back and forth. Her breath hitched, and she swallowed hard, bracing herself for what she was about to do.

Just then, she felt a subtle shift beneath her. Azy stirred, the young dragon rousing from his sleep, his golden eyes blinking open in confusion. As his gaze focused on her, realization dawned, his wide eyes darting to her hands, which were slowly moving toward his massive "thing." His surprise was palpable, and for a moment, neither of them moved, the tension between them thick and unspoken.

Azy let out a small, panicked chirp, his confusion evident as his wide eyes darted between Rayla and his own body. But she remained undeterred, her resolve steady. Turning her head, she glanced back at him with a warm, reassuring smile, her voice calm and soothing.

“Shh, it’s okay,” she said gently, her tone laced with understanding. “I’m just here to help, to relieve you of these new feelings you’re experiencing. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

Her smile deepened as she reached out a steady hand. “So just lie back and relax, Azy. Trust me—I’ll take care of everything. I’ll make sure to collect your seed, no matter what!”

Azymondias blinked in confusion, his young mind struggling to piece together the meaning behind Rayla's words. He’d noticed this strange thing happening to his body from time to time—a weird, growing stiffness that was both distracting and uncomfortable. It would throb and ache until it eventually went away on its own, leaving him feeling relieved yet puzzled. He hadn’t told anyone about it, unsure if it was something to be concerned about or just another part of growing up as a dragon.

But Rayla was different. He trusted her completely. She was his guardian, his friend—someone who always looked out for him. She would never hurt him. Whatever she was doing now, it had to be for his own good. At least, that’s what he told himself, even as his confusion lingered. She must know what she’s doing… he thought, his wide eyes searching hers for reassurance.

In that moment, Rayla gently placed her warm, soft hands on Azy's shaft, her delicate touch sending a ripple of heat through him. She wrapped her fingers around the middle of his length, her grip firm yet tender, and began a slow, deliberate motion. Up and down, her hands glided with an almost hypnotic rhythm.

Azy gasped sharply, the sensation igniting a powerful surge of pleasure that raced down his length and spread through his entire body like an electrifying jolt. It was overwhelming, a tingling intensity that made his breath hitch and his muscles tighten. The next slow stroke only deepened the effect, each motion a teasing wave that left him reeling in its wake.

“MghhhhH!”

Rayla’s lips curled into a self-satisfied smile at the guttural, feral sound that escaped Azy—deeper and more primal than anything she’d heard from him before. She could feel it in her chest: she was doing this right, and the realization fueled her confidence. Her touch remained gentle yet deliberate, her soft hands gliding up and down his throbbing shaft, applying just enough pressure to keep him teetering on the edge of bliss.

Her movements were unpracticed but intuitive; she’d never done this with anyone, yet her instincts seemed to guide her perfectly. Azy’s body spoke volumes, and she listened intently. As her hands worked, she noticed the thick, translucent liquid seeping from the tip, slick and warm against her fingers—it had to be his precum.

The more she stroked, the more it coated her hands, sticky yet silky, enhancing every glide. It clung to her fingers, making each motion smoother, more seamless. The added lubrication allowed her to adjust her rhythm, experimenting with firmer strokes and varying speeds, her goal clear: to draw out every sound, every shiver, every ounce of pleasure he had to give.

Deep, guttural groans escaped from Azy's throat, reverberating through the quiet grove as the young dragon was consumed by the overwhelming sensations coursing through his body. It was like nothing he'd ever felt before—a heady mix of warmth and electric energy, crashing through him in powerful waves. Each burst of intensity surged from the swollen, twitching length between his legs, sending shocks of pleasure rippling outward every time Rayla's hands caressed or stroked him.

Rayla tilted her head, watching him with a mischievous glint in her eye. “Looks like you’re enjoying this,” she teased with a knowing smile, her tone light but full of intention. “Good. This is kind of like mating—a universal thing across species. But dragons? Maybe you're just ahead of the curve, or maybe dragons are just built for this kind of thing early.” She cast a sly glance over her shoulder, punctuating her words with a playful wink.

Her voice dropped just a touch, the hint of seriousness laced with her teasing. “Either way, I’ve got a job to do, don’t I?” She leaned in closer, her hands steady as they moved with purpose. “Time to get that seed out of you…”

Azymondias tilted his head slightly, confusion flickering through the haze of pleasure engulfing him. Seed? What did she mean by that? And why did she need to get it out of him? The words danced just out of reach in his fogged mind, but he couldn’t focus long enough to make sense of them.

What he did know was the growing tension within him, coiling tighter with every stroke of Rayla’s hands. It was an itch he couldn’t quite scratch, an unfamiliar pressure that seemed to demand release. Despite Rayla's steady efforts, the sensation only built, the heat inside him intensifying with each passing moment, spreading through his body and fogging his thoughts like a thick, heady mist.

Azy wanted to speak, to ask her what was happening to him, but the words never came. Instead, his body responded in raw, primal sounds—low, guttural grunts and breathless whines that punctuated each of her touches. He surrendered to the mounting need, his only focus on the relentless pleasure Rayla drew out of him, even as the unanswered questions churned in the back of his mind.

Even through the haze of unfamiliar sensations, Azy trusted Rayla completely. There was a comfort in her confidence, in the way she seemed to understand what was happening to him when he didn’t. The fact that she was willing to help, to guide him through this strange, overwhelming experience, filled him with gratitude. If she said this was necessary to ease the tight, pent-up feeling inside him, he believed her without hesitation.

And, gods, it felt incredible. His breath had quickened, coming out in shallow pants he hadn’t even noticed, and his length throbbed with a need that grew stronger with each of her touches. Rayla’s soft hands moved with purpose, her eager fingers gliding over him with an expertise that belied her lack of experience. The pleasure she built within him was mounting fast, a heat coiling low and tight in his body, ready to erupt.

“Wow, Azy,” Rayla murmured, almost to herself, her voice laced with admiration and a hint of awe. Her eyes flickered over his impressive size, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. “You’d put most men to shame with this thing.” She licked her lips, her gaze flicking up to meet his briefly before she leaned in closer. Her voice dropped to a sultry whisper, the words slipping out before she could stop them. “Smells really good, too. I wonder if…”

She trailed off, the unspoken thought lingering in the air as her hands continued their steady, deliberate motion.

In truth, the potent pheromones radiating from Azymondias' throbbing cock were likely affecting her more than she realized. The primal, heady scent seemed to seep into her senses, making her bolder, her inhibitions melting away in a tide of arousal. It was intoxicating, but she didn’t see it as a bad thing. Quite the opposite—this was her duty, after all, to help relieve him of the intense need coursing through him. If she could enjoy herself in the process, all the better.

A tantalizing idea took root in her mind, growing with each passing moment. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips as she scooted closer, her eyes fixated on his impressive, twitching length. Without hesitation, she wrapped her arms around his member, letting her body press against the heated flesh.

“Ghwah!”

Azy’s guttural cry echoed through the grove as Rayla fully embraced his throbbing cock with her entire body. The heat of it radiated against her, its steady pulsations syncing with the quickening rhythm of her own heartbeat. Her arms wrapped firmly around his length, her hands moving with care and precision, caressing and rubbing every inch of him. From the swollen, sensitive tip to the massive knot at his base, she left no part of him untouched, her movements a mixture of curiosity and intent.

Yet, even as she worked him over with her hands and body, this wasn’t the full extent of her idea. The sheer warmth of his length pressed against her ignited a similar heat in her own chest, the intimate connection leaving her breathless. But it was the glistening trail of precum oozing from the tip that truly captured her attention. Thick and sticky, it dripped down, shimmering in the dim light, a visible testament to Azy’s growing need.

Rayla’s gaze fixed on the enticing stream, her lips parting slightly as her thoughts took a bold turn. The sight, the scent, the way it slowly trickled down—it was irresistible, stirring something deeper within her. She licked her lips again, her hands continuing their rhythmic strokes as her mind lingered on the temptation right in front of her.

Rayla’s hands were already slick with his precum, the sticky warmth coating her skin as it spread with every motion. But she didn’t care—she was far beyond worrying about such things. Any hesitation or second-guessing had melted away, replaced by a singular focus on the need they were both tangled in.

That’s why she didn’t pause, didn’t think twice, before leaning in closer. With a deliberate motion, she lowered her mouth to the tip of his cock, her lips brushing against the slick, throbbing flesh. The heat of it was almost startling, the hardness pressing firmly against her soft lips, but the sensation sent a thrill down her spine.

She let her kiss linger, savoring the moment, her lips parting slightly to feel more of him. The salty, heady taste of his precum met her tongue, and she felt a deep warmth bloom in her chest. It wasn’t just about relieving him anymore—she wanted this, craved it, the intimacy pulling her in deeper with every passing second.

Azymondias let out a soft, almost innocent sound—a mix of surprise and pleasure—as he felt Rayla's lips press against the sensitive tip of his cock. The warmth of her mouth was a stark contrast to the gentler touch of her hands, sending a bolt of pure sensation coursing through him. Just that simple kiss had him twitching uncontrollably, his length throbbing as fresh beads of clear liquid welled up and dripped lazily down his shaft.

Rayla caught sight of the glistening trail, her gaze following its path as it ran down toward his knot. Her tongue flicked out to wet her lips once more, the sight only stoking her desire. Without hesitation, she leaned in closer, letting her instincts take over.

Her tongue darted out and traced a slow, deliberate path along his length, starting where the droplets had pooled and gliding upward. The salty-sweet taste of his precum coated her tongue as she licked, savoring the unique flavor. She didn’t stop until she reached the tip, giving it another soft, lingering kiss before swirling her tongue around it to ensure she didn’t miss a drop.

The reaction she earned—a shuddering gasp and another involuntary twitch—spurred her on, her confidence growing with each sound of pleasure he made.

“Mmwah!” Rayla pulled back after planting another kiss on his tip, her lips glistening as she savored the salty taste lingering there. She ran her tongue over them, her cheeks flushed as a sly smile played on her face. “Mmm, it actually tastes really good… I wouldn’t mind getting a little more.” Her eyes flicked up to meet his, a mix of playfulness and care in her gaze. “Are you feeling good, Azy?”

Azymondias tried to respond, but no words came. His body betrayed him, his throat only managing a faint whimper as his stomach churned with unfamiliar warmth and arousal. The sensations twisting through him were entirely new, a strange, thrilling pressure building deep within. It felt like something inside him was being coiled tighter and tighter, poised to snap—but the release he craved danced just out of reach.

The mix of anticipation and need left him restless, his muscles twitching with anxious energy. Yet, he stayed perfectly still, his trust in Rayla overriding his uncertainty. She seemed to know what she was doing, her touch deliberate and unwavering, and he believed she would guide him through this. Half-lidded eyes watched her intently, her every movement captivating as she worked to ease his tension and bring him to that elusive release.

There was no more hesitation in Rayla’s movements. Her instincts had fully taken over as she leaned in, running her tongue slowly around the sensitive tip of his cock, savoring every drop of the dragon’s precum. The taste was intoxicating, a salty sweetness that made her crave more with each taste. Every time her tongue flicked over him, he twitched in response, the sensation sending a jolt of pleasure through his entire length.

At the same time, Rayla pressed her body more fully against his, using her curves to rub against him, her chest and hips brushing his throbbing shaft. It was necessary, given how big he was—she had to move her whole body to keep the contact steady, the friction only adding to the electric tension between them. The heat of his skin against hers was thrilling, and the feeling of him pulsing beneath her made her heart race faster.

She was lost in the moment, her body responding eagerly to the way he twitched and jerked beneath her. The combination of his size, his responsiveness, and the addicting taste of his precum made everything feel heightened, more intense. It was like a drug to her, and she found herself craving every moment, every taste, every shudder he gave her. The excitement was undeniable, building for both of them with every second that passed.

Azy was still a young, inexperienced dragon, and the overwhelming sensations were too much for him to endure for long. His breath quickened, turning into ragged pants, his entire body simmering with heat. The pressure inside him was building, that knot in his stomach tightening unbearably, coiling like a spring ready to snap. Each second felt like it was pushing him closer to the edge, his body trembling with the intensity of it all.

The sensation surged through him, rising up in a powerful roar from deep within his chest, vibrating in his throat as the peak of his pleasure loomed closer. His entire body tensed, muscles locking in anticipation, and just as he felt like he might explode, Rayla took him fully into her mouth.

Her lips sealed tightly around the tip of his cock, and with her mouth, she drew him deeper, taking as much as she could, her warm mouth a tight, wet cocoon around him. The sensation was exquisite, pushing him to the edge as he felt her expertly swallow him, her movements steady and insistent. In that moment, with Rayla’s mouth working him, Azy couldn’t hold back anymore—he was thrusting toward release, caught in the powerful tidal wave of pleasure she was drawing from him.

Overcome with a surge of intense sensations, it was as if something inside Azymondias was on the brink of exploding—like fireworks igniting within him. The tension that had been building for so long finally reached its peak, and with a deep, earth-shaking roar, he let go, feeling the knot inside him unravel as the flood of sensation washed over him.

“G-GRRRHAHHHH!”

“A-ahhh!”

Rayla barely had time to process the first surge as it erupted like a geyser, thick and voluminous, flooding her mouth with warmth. The taste was rich, overwhelming her senses as the first spurt reached the back of her throat. Surprised, she instinctively pulled back, gasping softly, just in time to witness the second powerful rope of virile draconic seed shoot skyward, painting her cheek and cascading down to her neck in a molten trail.

The third and fourth followed in quick succession, each accompanied by a twitch so forceful it nearly made her lose her grip on his throbbing shaft. The intensity left her breathless, her chest soon becoming the next canvas for his unrelenting release. Thick, hot splatters coated her skin, their warmth seeping into her and making her shiver.

Rayla couldn't help but smile, captivated by the sheer volume and primal potency of it all. The air grew heavy with his pheromone-laden scent—intoxicating and intense, amplified by the heat of his release. It clung to her skin, saturating the moment with a raw, visceral energy that left her yearning for more.

Rayla shuddered as the taste lingered on her tongue, her lips parting to lick away the thick remnants of his release. The flavor was intoxicating, rich and potent, sending a thrill through her senses. Almost instinctively, she continued, her tongue trailing up and down the length of his shaft, savoring every stray bead of cum that clung to its slick surface. Each pass brought her to the tip, where she paused, swallowing with deliberate care, ensuring his essence coated every corner of her mouth.

Her movements grew almost feverish, like a woman consumed by an insatiable hunger. The sound of her tongue working against his flesh filled the air, a rhythmic, wet melody that only heightened the intensity of the moment. Finally, when the young dragon's cock gleamed clean, glistening with her spit, she drew back, breathing heavily, wiping the drool from her chin with the back of her hand.

She couldn’t help but chuckle at how quickly the little dragon had reached his climax—it was endearing in its own way. He was still young, after all. But with the sheer size and volume he’d managed, Rayla had no doubt he’d grow into quite the impressive stud one day.

“Phew, guess that’s that,” she said with a playful smile, sliding off his lap. “I hope you enjoyed that, Azy! If you ever feel pent-up like that again, you can—”

Her words were abruptly cut off.

As she knelt to steady herself on the floor, preparing to stand, she felt movement behind her. The young dragon’s presence loomed closer, and suddenly, a surprising strength surged through him. Before she could react, Azymondias was on her, his paws pressing firmly against her back.

Her breath hitched as she felt something hot and solid slap against her lower back—a stark contrast to his earlier inexperience. Freezing in place, her eyes darted downward, her mind racing as she realized exactly what was now pressing against her.

“...Ah,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “Right. Dragons have much longer mating sessions than humans… and with each round, they get even more…”

Her words trailed off as her gaze drifted to Azymondias. The sight before her spoke volumes. The young dragon was eagerly attempting to mount her, his instincts taking over with raw determination. His cock, now noticeably larger and thicker than before, pressed insistently against her stomach, its velvety heat gliding back and forth in search of satisfaction.

The sheer size was impossible to ignore—the base nestled firmly against her pelvis, while the swollen tip reached tantalizingly between her breasts. The air grew heavy, the intoxicating scent from earlier now overwhelming as his potent pheromones filled the space, radiating an unmistakable primal need that made her breath catch in her throat.

“You poor thing…” Rayla muttered softly, her gaze lingering on Azymondias, who looked so pitifully desperate. “I promised I’d take care of your needs, and I’m going to keep that promise—no matter how long it takes. Just… let me get comfortable for this.”

Though visibly antsy, Azymondias managed to contain his eagerness as Rayla rose to her feet. He watched her intently, his golden eyes following every movement as she began shedding her clothes, piece by piece. The discarded garments formed a small pile on the ground, and when she finally turned to face him, his breath hitched.

Azy’s eyes widened, his gaze sweeping over her exposed form. He’d never truly looked at anyone in this way before, but now… now, he couldn’t tear his eyes away. Her body was mesmerizing—the soft, inviting curve of her breasts, the fullness of her hips, and the glistening slit between her legs that seemed to beckon him closer.

Something unfamiliar stirred deep inside him, an unquenchable fire igniting within his chest. It burned hotter with every passing second, replacing his earlier confusion with a singular, instinct-driven desire to act.

"Alright, here I am, Azy. You can do whatever you want with m—Ahhh!”

Rayla’s words turned into a startled gasp as Azymondias lunged at her with an unexpected burst of strength. For such a small creature, his power was overwhelming, and before she could react, he had repositioned her with ease, his paws firmly guiding her body into place.

The transformation was startlingly quick. In moments, Rayla found herself in a precarious yet enticing position—only her forearms and part of her back pressed against the ground, the rest of her body raised as her legs were spread wide. Azy’s paws pushed down on her thighs with surprising force, keeping her open as he angled himself toward her dripping core.

Her chest rose and fell with anticipation, her breasts bouncing slightly as she steadied herself with her forearms and elbows. The young dragon, now perched above her with a fierce determination, lined up his cock with her entrance. The tip kissed her slit, teasing her with its heat before he pushed forward, his movements driven by pure instinct and a desperate need to claim her.

Rayla gasped again, her body tensing in response to his eager thrust, his strength and raw need leaving her breathless as he began to claim her in earnest.

“Hghhhahhhh!”

Their voices melded together, grunts of exertion, pain, and raw pleasure intertwining into a symphony of primal connection. The sensation was unlike anything they had experienced—a potent mix of intensity and delight that left them both craving more.

For Rayla, the moment was overwhelming. Her vision blurred to white as Azymondias drove himself deep inside her, stretching her pussy walls with a force she hadn’t expected from someone so small. Yet, despite the unexpected strength, it wasn’t unwelcome. The sheer size and heat of him sent a shockwave through her body—a blend of sharp pain and unrelenting pleasure that made her head spin.

Her eyes fluttered, rolling back as her mouth fell open, her tongue slipping out in a blissful daze. The trembling in her arms grew stronger, her elbows and forearms shaking under the strain, but she refused to collapse. She braced herself, determined to hold the position, to let Azy savor every second of his newfound dominance for as long as he desired.

For Azymondias, this was beyond anything he could have dreamed. His breath came in ragged pants, his draconic tongue lolling from the side of his maw as his small hips moved instinctively, driving his massive length into Rayla over and over. The sensation was indescribable—the tightness, the searing heat, the way her body seemed to grip him so perfectly. It was nothing like her touch or even her mouth.

It was overwhelming.

The word barely captured the intensity of what he felt. His inexperience made it feel like too much, his mind reeling as he tried to process the tidal wave of sensations. Yet, his breeding instincts screamed that it wasn’t enough—that he needed more, needed to go deeper, harder. The mix of painful tightness and all-consuming heat was intoxicating, pulling him in from every angle.

Driven by instinct and need, Azymondias thrust with everything his small frame could muster, his powerful movements relentless. Her tight snatch stretched around him, molding to his shape in a way that sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through him. Each thrust was rough, desperate, and raw, as he worked to claim her fully, lost to the primal fire surging through his veins.

Perched atop her, his paws gripping her thighs for leverage, Azymondias was oblivious to the full extent of the havoc his draconic manhood was wreaking on Rayla’s body. Facing her back instead of her front, he couldn’t see the way her pussy stretched impossibly around him, or how much of him was still to go. But Rayla saw it all—clear as day, even through the haze of tears brought on by overwhelming pleasure.

Only half of him was inside her, yet the effect was staggering. A visible bulge formed just above her belly button, shifting slightly with each thrust as his tip pressed insistently against her virginal womb. Every time he drove himself deeper, the outline of his cock became more prominent against her stomach, a testament to his sheer size and the incredible stretch he demanded of her body.

“Mgwaah! Ghhhraah!”

Azymondias’s breathy, pleasured moans filled the air, raw and unrestrained. The young dragon’s voice was a mix of panting and guttural cries, each one a declaration of how much he adored being buried inside her. Despite the overwhelming sensation of his size and the rush of blood to her head from being nearly upside down, Rayla found herself smiling.

His noises brought her a deep sense of satisfaction, a warmth that rivaled the heat of their coupling. She couldn’t help herself—her pussy clenched tighter around him, gripping him with a deliberate squeeze as if her body were trying to milk every ounce of pleasure from him. The effort sent shivers down her spine, her own cries mingling with his as she reveled in the raw, primal connection between them.

It worked beautifully. Azymondias shuddered as the vice-like grip of Rayla’s insides enveloped him, the tightness and warmth sending electric jolts through his entire body. The sensation was almost overwhelming, yet it only fueled his determination. His instincts roared louder than his inexperience, urging him to push deeper, to claim her completely.

His small frame trembled, but his hips didn’t falter. They moved with a mind of their own, driving his cock a little further into her with every thrust. Each inch conquered sent a new wave of pleasure crashing over him, compelling him to bury himself entirely inside her, no matter what.

A low, guttural growl rumbled in his throat, growing into a restrained roar as his need consumed him. For a moment, the timid, uncertain side of him faded, eclipsed by a primal desire to fill her again, to flood her insides with another torrent of his thick, fertile seed. His paws pressed harder against her thighs, his movements growing rougher, more desperate, as he chased the release that his body craved so deeply.

He wanted… no, needed to fill her up. The urge was overwhelming, not just a desire but an instinct that burned within him. Part of him thought it might be to thank her, a strange yet earnest way of expressing his gratitude. But deeper than that was a primal need—an inexplicable compulsion to empty himself entirely inside this warm, welcoming hole.

“G-hahhh! Yes, that’s it…!” Rayla cried out, her voice breaking as her body trembled beneath him. Her words spurred him on, a mix of pleasure and encouragement that made his instincts scream louder. “D-don’t worry, you can cum inside… d-do whatever you want to do, Azy!”

Hearing her words ignited something primal within Azymondias, a surge of raw, draconic instinct that obliterated any lingering hesitation. His arousal burned feverishly, his mind clouded with a singular focus as the world around him seemed to blur. He growled low in his throat, his hips moving with a relentless intensity, pounding into Rayla’s pussy with enough force to finally bury himself to the very base.

“G-GHAHHHH!”

Rayla’s cry tore through the air, her body straining under the force of his thrust. It was the closest she’d come to collapsing, but she refused to yield. Bracing herself with determination, she held firm, allowing him to revel in the sensation of being completely enveloped. His entire length was cradled by her trembling, hungry walls, each twitch of his cock met with a squeeze that seemed to pull him even deeper.

The sight was nothing short of obscene. Her stomach bore a prominent bulge, the outline of nearly a quarter of his cock pressing against her skin with every thrust. It was lewd, shocking, and yet… she couldn’t stop the flood of pride and pleasure that coursed through her. This was a testament to Azymondias’s strength, his growth, his sheer dominance.

And he wasn’t done.

The young dragon growled again, the sound rumbling deep and full of need. He shifted, his claws tightening their grip as he began to move once more. Simply being inside her wasn’t enough—his instincts demanded more. Driven by an insatiable desire, he resumed his thrusts, his movements unrestrained, relentless, and utterly consuming.

The sensations coursing through Azymondias’s small body were beyond anything he could have imagined—impossible to describe in mere words. If the simple pleasure of Rayla rubbing against him before had felt incredible, this was nothing short of paradise. A deep gratitude swelled within him, an appreciation for her willingness to guide him through this overwhelming new experience. Yet, as his hips drove into her again and again, the gratitude mingled with something more primal.

The hunger and heat inside him burned brighter with every thrust, consuming the last vestiges of his shyness. It urged him onward, harder and faster, the raw instinct to scratch the unrelenting itch driving him into a frenzied rhythm. His body moved with singular focus, chasing the satisfaction that seemed just out of reach.

The room echoed with the wet, lewd sounds of their union—the fleshy slap of Azy’s knot colliding with Rayla’s pussy lips, each impact causing her stomach to bulge slightly as his cock slammed relentlessly into her cervix. The slick, rhythmic noises mingled with their cries, creating a symphony of unrestrained passion.

Rayla’s screams matched Azymondias’s guttural growls, her voice hoarse with pleasure as her body trembled beneath him. The sheer intensity of their connection pushed them both to their limits, the build-up to release overwhelming. It felt like hours had passed, their frenzied pace stretching time itself, yet in reality, only minutes had gone by.

And still, neither could resist the mounting crescendo, the point where everything would come crashing down in an explosion of blissful release.

“GG-GRHAHHHH!!”

The roar tore from Azymondias’s throat, raw and primal, as Rayla’s climax triggered his own. The rhythmic clenching of her walls around his cock was his undoing, the relentless massage drawing him to the brink. With one final, desperate thrust, he buried himself fully inside her, his entire length sheathed as he released everything he had.

What came next was staggering. The sheer volume and force of his seed eclipsed anything from before. The first powerful jets splattered against the entrance to her womb, the pressure so intense it surged upward, flooding her deepest recesses and forcing her body to stretch in ways she didn’t think possible. The impact nearly drove her further into the ground, her body trembling under the relentless onslaught.

Rayla’s head lolled back, her mind a haze of pure, overwhelming pleasure. Each thick rope of Azy’s seed sent her nerves alight, the warmth pooling inside her and expanding her belly with astonishing speed. Her womb, already brimming, couldn’t contain it all. The airtight seal of his knot ensured nothing escaped, leaving her stomach swollen and bloated.

She looked utterly wrecked. Her belly bulged prominently, the sight almost surreal, as though she were already several months pregnant—a thought that flickered in her pleasure-clouded mind and sent another shiver of ecstasy through her. The sheer intensity of it all left her on the verge of passing out, a dazed smile on her lips as the young dragon continued to empty himself into her, his instincts ensuring no inch of her was left untouched.

And it was only the beginning. Rayla had expected this release to mirror the first—a brief yet intense burst—but Azymondias was far from done. Rope after thick, potent rope of his seed continued to flood her insides, each one slamming against her walls with a force that left her breathless. The sheer pressure filled her so completely she could swear she felt it swirling within her, an almost tangible sensation of his eager, virile sperm seeking her deepest core, driven by an instinct to impregnate.

The thought sent a shiver down her spine, her body responding with an involuntary clench as her pussy tightened around him, milking him for every drop. The addictive heat, the sense of being claimed so thoroughly, made her feel like a true dragon’s mate. The primal intimacy of it all pushed her orgasm to new heights, waves of pleasure crashing over her as her body shook uncontrollably.

“A-AHHHHHH!”

Rayla’s cries mingled with Azymondias’s own guttural moans, the young dragon caught in the throes of a release unlike anything he’d ever imagined. He wasn’t sure how long it lasted, but the sensation was utterly intoxicating. The relentless surge of his seed, the heat of their union, the overwhelming ecstasy—it all came together in a symphony of bliss that made him forget everything else.

Yet, as the final jets left his body, a new hunger began to stir. The sweet ache of release was replaced almost instantly by an even stronger, more insistent desire. It gnawed at him, more feral and demanding than before, pulling him back into the grip of his instincts. His breaths came in shallow pants, his body tensing as the urge to claim her once more overtook him, the fire within him far from sated.

Utterly drained, Rayla finally collapsed onto the ground, her trembling limbs giving out as she surrendered to the overwhelming exhaustion. Azy’s cock slipped free with a wet pop, leaving her core stretched and throbbing as he flopped down beside her. She could only stare up at the sky, her chest heaving with labored breaths. The heat in her body hadn’t faded, a lingering fire fueled by the sensation of what felt like liters of thick, draconic seed spilling from her stretched, aching pussy.

That was… harder than I thought… she mused hazily, her mind barely able to keep up with the lingering tremors in her body. A shiver ran through her, her muscles twitching as she struggled to recover. B-but at least… that must be it, right? The little guy has to be satisfied no-

Her thoughts were interrupted as a shadow loomed over her, small yet unmistakably imposing. Before her blurred vision could properly focus, she felt herself being grasped, strong claws lifting her with a startling ease. A gasp escaped her lips as she was hoisted upward, her body still weak from their last round.

Azymondias moved with a confidence and strength that was both new and unexpected, his grip firm but careful as he carried her toward a nearby grove tree. Rayla could do nothing but let him position her, her head spinning as he pressed her back against the rough bark. Her legs dangled helplessly as he held her aloft, her still-dripping pussy resting directly on his cock, which was hard and throbbing once more.

Her eyes widened as she felt him shift against her, the familiar heat of his length stirring a mix of anticipation and disbelief within her. He’s… ready again? she thought, her body betraying her with a shiver of excitement despite her fatigue. Azy’s instincts were clearly far from satisfied, and the hunger in his movements made it clear—he wasn’t done with her yet.

“H-huh?”

Azymondias blinked, momentarily snapping out of his trance, his golden eyes widening as he realized what he was doing. He had Rayla pinned firmly against the rough bark of the tree, her legs dangling as his cock pressed insistently against her dripping pussy, sliding back and forth with an almost instinctual rhythm. The young dragon would have been shocked at his own sudden strength and assertiveness if not for the all-consuming hunger clawing at him from within. It urged him to keep going, to claim her completely.

That hunger frightened him at first—a raw, primal drive so foreign and overwhelming that it made him hesitate. But then he looked up into Rayla’s face, his worried expression softening as he caught sight of her smile. Despite her exhaustion, her eyes were warm, her lips curling into an encouraging grin that seemed to melt away his doubts.

“It’s okay,” she whispered, her voice gentle but laced with desire, her chest rising and falling in sync with her labored breaths. “I told you, Azy, I’m your guardian. I’ll take care of you. Let it out… let your dragon instincts take over. Do whatever you want. Let it all go.”

Her words, spoken with such conviction and trust, washed over him like a soothing balm, quelling the last remnants of his uncertainty. The warmth in her tone, the encouragement in her gaze—it was all the reassurance he needed.

The hesitation melted away, replaced by something deeper, something primal. Azymondias felt a new sense of confidence, a comforting heat born of Rayla’s acceptance of him and her willingness to help him through this. His body moved instinctively, guided by the unrelenting hunger inside him.

With her permission, he let go completely. Whatever his instincts demanded, whatever his body wanted—he would give in, knowing she was there to guide and support him. For the first time, the young dragon felt no fear of his own nature, only the exhilarating freedom to embrace it.

Azymondias let out a deep, guttural growl, the sound resonating from his chest and echoing in the quiet grove. His cock throbbed as he pulled back, its tip teasing Rayla’s slick pussy lips. She gasped softly, her gaze flickering downward—and what she saw left her both awed and intimidated.

His cock had grown again, impossibly so. It was now a towering, pulsing monstrosity that seemed almost surreal in its size. The length easily eclipsed his own height, thick veins running along its surface, and the girth… it was almost beyond comprehension, stretching wider than anything Rayla had ever imagined. If pressed against her body, it would likely reach from her dripping core all the way past her neck. It was thicker than her arm and radiated an intoxicating heat.

Yet despite the sheer magnitude of what loomed before her, neither of them showed hesitation. Rayla’s heart pounded with a mix of fear and unrestrained excitement, her body trembling with anticipation. Azymondias, meanwhile, clenched his jaws, his instincts urging him forward, undeterred by the challenge. With a determined snarl, he began pushing his monstrous length inside her.

The tip breached her folds first, her walls clamping down immediately, hugging him so tightly that it drew a low, rumbling growl from his throat. Slowly, inch by agonizingly thick inch, he eased his shaft into her, feeling her core struggle to accommodate him. The sensation of her warmth enveloping him was electrifying, and yet, it wasn’t enough.

He growled louder, frustration and need fueling his movements. Pulling back, he thrust forward again, this time with more force. The sound of his hips meeting hers echoed in the air, followed by her sharp gasp.

“Ghahh!” Rayla cried out, her body arching against the tree as the sheer intensity of his size overwhelmed her senses. Despite the stretch, the pressure, the impossibility of his cock fitting, she forced herself to smile through the pleasure-pain mix. “Y-yes, harder! I c-can take it, Azy!”

Her encouragement spurred him on, and he moved with renewed vigor. Each thrust sent bursts of raw strength and tingling ecstasy coursing through his body, grounding him in the primal rhythm. He held her pinned against the tree effortlessly, her legs folded and pressed tightly against her chest, her body completely at his mercy.

Relentlessly, he drove into her, rearranging her insides with each thrust. Her walls stretched to accommodate his ever-growing girth, gripping him like a vice, while her cries of pleasure only fueled his feral intensity. Inch by thick, pulsing inch, he claimed her, losing himself more and more to the wild, instinctive heat coursing through him. Azymondias was no longer holding back—this was pure, unrestrained desire.

It was terrifying in a primal, thrilling way—like something foreign and uncontrollable had taken over his body, compelling him to claim Rayla in the most instinctive manner. A deep-rooted drive within his very being urged him to fill her with his seed, a need that felt ancient and undeniable. But while the intensity of it was startling, he couldn't deny the sheer, overwhelming pleasure that came with surrendering to that instinct. And judging by the way Rayla responded—her tongue lolling out, her eyes rolling back as she drowned in ecstasy—she was reveling in it just as much.

Seeing her like this, completely overtaken, fueled something deep within him. Despite his smaller frame, the way his strength and relentless thrusts could reduce her to such a blissful, submissive state stirred a fierce pride in him. It was intoxicating, the idea of being a good mate, of giving her everything she needed and more. He wanted to breed her, to fill her completely, to claim her in every way—even if he didn’t fully grasp what that might mean for her or for them.

Each motion was instinctive but deliberate, driven by a singular purpose. His thick, throbbing cock worked tirelessly, sliding in and out of her stretched, glistening pussy with an almost desperate rhythm. The bulge in her stomach grew more pronounced with every deep, powerful thrust, an obscene and thrilling testament to the sheer size of him. And with their bodies so tightly pressed together, he could feel that bulge pressing against his own abdomen each time he buried himself inside her. The sensation was electrifying, a perfect blend of dominance and connection that sent a shiver of exhilaration through him with every thrust.

“G-hah—s-so hard, ghhhuhhh!” Rayla's voice was barely more than a choked moan, her words dissolving into incoherent gasps as Azy relentlessly pounded into her, leaving her utterly mindless with pleasure. “Azy… s-so good…!” she managed to whimper, her trembling body arching into him as if pleading for more.

The dragon’s rut was overwhelming, the potent pheromones he’d unconsciously released transforming her, making her stronger, more insatiable—perfectly attuned to handle the sheer girth and force of his massive cock. It was no wonder humans sometimes took dragons as mates. Now, more than ever, Rayla understood why: no one else could compare to Azy's raw power, his unyielding stamina. He was everything she needed, and then some.

Gone was the hesitant, uncertain dragon she'd first known. Now, Azy moved with bold, unrelenting confidence, his powerful thrusts driving deeper and deeper into her soaked, welcoming pussy. Each stroke pushed the limits of what should have been possible, his cock spearing so deeply that he was practically battering her womb, the bulge in her belly swelling obscenely with every plunge. It was primal, instinctive, his arousal overriding all hesitation, leaving room only for a singular purpose: to breed.

And then there was his knot. The thick, swollen base began slapping against her slick entrance, the wet sound echoing through the room. It was only then that they realized just how far he'd pushed himself into her. It defied reason, the way her stomach ballooned outward in response to him, an almost surreal display of their union. Yet for all its intensity, there was no pain—only a blazing, all-encompassing ecstasy. The pleasure consumed her, bending her body and mind to fit him perfectly, her insides reshaped and claimed entirely by his dragon cock.

“Rrryhah!” Azymondias snarled, his growl low and guttural, his hips driving forward with an urgency that could no longer be restrained. “Rghahhh!” he roared, the sound vibrating through the room as his body took over completely, his thrusts deep and relentless.

Their bodies moved in perfect sync, entwined as one, lost in a storm of raw, unfiltered ecstasy. Each powerful thrust sent shudders through the walls, the sheer intensity of their coupling reverberating through the space. The air was thick with their mingled moans and growls, their pleasure a primal symphony that echoed far and wide, leaving no doubt about how deeply they were indulging in one another.

Azymondias was blissfully happy. Beneath the fiery need coursing through him, beneath the maddening heat of Rayla’s tight, welcoming pussy gripping him like a vice, was a profound gratitude. She’d taken it upon herself to help him, to ease the ache that had consumed him, and for that, he was endlessly thankful.

But he wasn’t done yet. His cock throbbed heavily inside her, his knot swelling against her entrance as it strained to push deeper. His balls churned with molten need, thick, virile cum boiling within him, ready to flood her completely. Driven entirely by instinct now, Azy surrendered to the overwhelming urge to breed, growling ferociously as he buried his knot deep inside Rayla's already overstretched pussy.

Her reaction was instant and intense—a scream ripped from her throat, the sheer fullness and heat sending her body into uncontrollable spasms. She shook violently beneath him, every nerve alight with a pleasure so intense it bordered on delirium. Azy held her firmly, his knot locking them together as he poured himself into her, their bodies trembling in unison as they gave in completely to the primal, all-encompassing act of mating.

“G-GHAHHHH! A-AZY!!!”

Rayla's scream tore through the air, her voice raw and desperate as her body surrendered completely. It was too much—too intense. With Azymondias buried so deeply inside her, stretching her beyond anything she’d ever imagined, her body had no choice but to explode with the most earth-shattering orgasm of her life. The overwhelming pleasure crashed through her like a tidal wave, obliterating every coherent thought and leaving her trembling, gasping for air as her muscles quaked with the aftershocks.

Her pussy clamped down instinctively, gripping and milking Azymondias with a relentless, eager rhythm. It was as if her body had taken on a will of its own, working tirelessly to please him, to draw every last drop from him. And the young dragon responded with equal intensity, his body shuddering violently as he reached his own peak. His long tongue lolled out of his mouth, his breaths ragged and heavy as the blazing heat of his release consumed him. The raw, primal urge to breed, to fill her completely, burned through him like wildfire.

Azymondias let out a deep, thunderous roar as he came, the sound reverberating through the space, powerful enough to wake the entire world—but neither of them cared. Their bodies moved together as if locked in a perfect dance, pressing tightly against the wall, their skin slick and heated as they melted into one another. They climaxed in unison, the force of their shared pleasure binding them in a moment of pure, unrestrained ecstasy, each lost in the other as their instincts took over completely.

Then came the first explosive rope of cum, shooting from Azy’s massive, throbbing cock with the force of a cannon. Rayla felt it slam into the deepest part of her womb, the impact so intense it stole the breath from her lungs, leaving her choking on a scream as her entire body went slack in surrender. The sheer volume of that single spurt felt like it contained the entirety of his earlier loads combined—but it was only the beginning.

She could already see her belly swelling, a visible testament to the young dragon's potency, and she could feel the heat of his seed invading her, seeking out her fertile depths with an unstoppable urgency. His virile cum flooded her completely, each successive rope heavier, hotter, and thicker than the last, pushing her body to its absolute limits. The sheer quantity was overwhelming, stretching her in ways she hadn’t thought possible, her insides completely claimed by his essence.

Every spurt dwarfed what had come before, an unrelenting torrent of Azy’s mating potential poured directly into her fertile womb. It was more than just physical—it was primal, a raw connection that defined what it meant to be a dragon’s mate. Rayla could do nothing but scream, her nails clawing at the wall behind her as the pressure built and built, pleasure and intensity merging into something transcendent.

It was too much, yet it was perfect. Her body trembled with every surge, her mind teetering on the edge of blissful oblivion as she was filled again and again, every moment cementing her place as Azy’s mate, forever marked by his undeniable, overwhelming claim.

If this was what a young dragon was capable of… Rayla couldn’t even finish the thought. The sheer intensity of it left her mind blank, unable to process anything beyond the overwhelming fullness inside her. Azy, meanwhile, was entirely consumed by the sensations coursing through him—every fiery twitch of his cock, every thick, powerful spurt of cum pumping into his mate. He couldn’t stop, didn’t want to stop, until her body could take no more.

Eventually, her stretched, overstimulated pussy could no longer hold back the deluge. Thick, sticky ropes of his seed began to spill from her, oozing past his knot and spraying their laps, pooling beneath them in warm, milky puddles that dripped steadily onto the ground. The room was filled with the scent of their mating, the evidence of their union unmistakable.

By the time Azymondias finally ceased his relentless release, Rayla’s belly was swollen so round and tight that she looked as though she were pregnant with triplets. Her womb churned with the dragon’s virile seed, packed so full that the pressure was nearly dizzying. Yet it was all locked inside her, unable to escape thanks to Azy’s thick knot still firmly lodged in place, ensuring every drop remained exactly where it needed to be.

Exhaustion overtook them both as the intensity subsided. They collapsed together, their trembling bodies tangled in the aftermath of their union. Rayla lay on her side, twitching faintly as the weight of everything settled over her. Azymondias, entirely spent, fell asleep almost instantly, a contented smile on his face as he let out soft, puppy-like pants. His leg twitched lazily, a comically endearing contrast to the primal power he’d just displayed, while his knot remained firmly inflated, keeping them tied together.

“Ghahh… Hahh…” Rayla exhaled deeply, her voice weak but tinged with satisfaction. Her eyelids fluttered shut as she sighed, feeling utterly spent yet completely fulfilled. “D-duty… fulfilled…”

That final thought floated through her mind before she too succumbed to sleep, drifting off into a deep, peaceful slumber, their bodies still intimately joined, a testament to the bond they had forged.

ENDING OF PART 1

[sinshckled]

jellal-san where do squirrels go during hurricanes

★ |  * ⋆      -   -  - –  INBOX !  *  ﹡                  ﹡     ✧ * ☇  ( @dripdripdropthebass ! ) .

Years of never-ending camping trips have prepared him for this.

     "They, and any animals for that matter, will seek shelter in cases of harsh weather condition. They are actually very SMART and adaptable creatures ― they'll sense the shift in the winds and prepare accordingly."

     "While they can also build nests in branches, SQUIRRELS live mostly in dens, typically located inside a tree cavity ― which provides them shelter from winds, rain and snow. If the tree is sturdy enough, they can ride out the storm JUST FINE."

     "In cases where no hollow trunks are available, they may also burrow into the ground or find an underground den. & in the case of CITY SQUIRRELS, they can easily find shelter in rooftops, hideouts or underneath buildings ― as long as there is suitable ground, at least."

[roseride01-blog]

Bones

Skeletons of war aren’t in the closet, they hide in plain sight. 

The first sign of war is on display in each one of the air temples: actual skeletons of a people who were killed amidst kindness, left hollow by the passing of a century.

The Fire Lord who helped end the war will return to one of these temples, years after the war has been won. He will go alone, and he will scour the Southern Air Temple for weeks. 

When he returns, he will gift the Avatar with the record of his birth, found in a library turned to dust, dirt, unburnt. 

The Avatar will cry, and feel more connected to his new family and his old than he ever has before, but the Fire Lord knows the Air Nomads will never come back. 

The second sign of war is the soldiers through the Earth Kingdom, disciplined and barbaric alike. 

The same Fire Lord will remember a young boy with his brother stolen for the front lines, who turned on him when he knew who he (his family, his legacy) really was. He will remember a girl’s kindness, repaid in rapacity. He will remember all the the charred earth he had seen, and a boy who died beneath a lake. 

The villages will be rebuilt, the soldiers brought home, and a baby ostrich horse will find a new home. A Fire Nation village, nestled in an Earth Kingdom forest, will be instructed to leave the intricate hideouts in the trees where they are. 

The Fire Lord won’t stay in these towns long enough to hear them say thank you, feeling he would break if he ever heard such a lie as gratefulness to him.  

Third, the destruction of the Southern water benders, an entire bending discipline now resting on the shoulders of a single water bender, made terrified by the prospect of unyielding control under the light of a full moon. 

He will release the prisoner who had taught her to blood bend into the water bender’s custody, and lets her decide what she sees fit (she looks into her eyes, blue bearing into gray, and demand imprisonment for eternity, both in body and in spirit).The young Fire Lord will see the relief and gratitude in her eyes, and ignore the loud protests of his advisors, who wanted the woman executed. But looking at Katara, he feels as though the Fire Nation should get no say in the matter. 

And the fourth is the Fire Lord himself, broken by a lineage of war and deceit, and even though he tries, even though he is reassured he has done more than what anyone expected of him, gone above and beyond, he will never be able to shake the feeling of guilt for a heritage he did not choose. 

He hides this skeleton in the closet, and smiles for the other nations, for his friends, but he feels it in his bones and in his soul. Every night he takes out the skeleton he made of these bones and dances with it, in the form of pacing, shaking, the thought of rest ever so a foreign concept. The night he arrives at the Southern Water Tribe (for the second time) greeted by Sokka with an embrace (he remembers tossing him to the side before), he will lay awake and clench his jaw, trying so hard not to think about Katara, the last water bender in the south pole. He will help rebuild the villages and towns and pay reparations to the Earth Kingdom, doubting his choice only in the case of Yu Dao, and even years later, is scared to think he actually made the wrong choice. He will help the Avatar rebuild the ties to the spirit world, replanting trees into a lush forest, a statue watching them gratefully in the distance. He will grip his hands, plaster a smile on his face, when Aang’s voice hitches when he talks about the air benders, and waits until he is alone at night to sob. 

The Fire Lord is haunted by ghosts and bones alike, the balance within him forever off kilter. So the Fire Lord carves every lost water bender, every Earth Kingdom family ripped apart, and every air nomad corpse into his own bones, a promise to always be redeeming, a darkness he takes with him to the grave.

[prismaticpollen]

hunting lessons

original character, nb, allergy

Veteran werewolf Rieka has been volunteering with xyr local creature council for years, showing newly-turned shifters the ropes. Hunting lessons are usually uneventful, but when one of xyr students gets a little too close to xyr hiding spot, xyr chosen strategy literally blows up in xyr face.

Valentine’s prompt fill for the OC Hideout:

stifles for werewolf!Rieka

thanks for sending in such a great prompt, anon! this was so much fun to write. I hope you like it!

“For the last time, no. We are not doing that,” someone muttered. A student, one of the older ones, if Rieka remembered correctly.

“But—“

“No.”

From where xe was standing, tucked out of sight behind a large rock formation, xe could just about see the debate in progress without giving away xyr position. Three students moved briskly downhill, keeping to the path. They were headed in xyr general direction, but they’d shown no signs they’d noticed xem, so xe didn’t need to move just yet.

The one who’d spoken first was clearly leading the group. Roxy? Rosie? Whatever her name was, she stopped short, signaling her companions with a series of gestures. Once she had their attention, she spun in a slow circle, orienting herself towards whatever she’d detected. When she stopped again, she was facing uphill, pointing roughly due east.

Nevermind, then.

Good for her, learning fast, but Rieka wasn’t about to let her win that day’s challenge that easily. Luckily for xem, xe already had another hiding spot in mind. All xe had to do was retreat a bit, then xe could disappear into the undergrowth to see how she’d handle losing xyr trail.

On the path below, Roxy/Rosie lifted one hand to the sky and swung it down again. She surged forward, headed straight for Rieka, and her teammates followed. Time’s up.

Time to move.

First step, back away from the rocks, and stay hidden. Stay low, follow the landscape. Duck under a branch. Turn. A few steps to the right, around a thorn bush. Duck under another branch. Turn. Step over some roots. Turn. Keep going until the ground gets too steep. Slow and steady, quiet as a mouse.

One last maneuver, around a half-rotted stump and over another root, and xe dropped low, vanishing into a hollow xe’d identified earlier that morning. A fallen tree hid xem from above, and the slope of the surrounding land shielded xem from view on three sides. The only weak point was right in front of xem, where xe could easily lunge forward to confront any would-be attackers before they spotted xem. It wasn’t the most comfortable, but it would do just fine until this group gave up the chase and moved on to search another part of the woods.

To their credit, they weren’t nearly as quick to call a false alarm as some of the other groups had been. Starting at the rock Rieka had just left, they fanned out, scenting the air and listening to the wind. They even did it correctly, for the most part: still and sharp and light on their feet, just like they’d been taught. In a real hunt, they’d be ready to tap into their other sides at a moment’s notice.

Xe would have to congratulate them later, even if another team ended up catching xem before they could. They weren’t perfect, not yet, but judging by their performance here, they were definitely ahead of the curve.

The smallest of the three dropped into a crouch, head bowed. The others rushed to his side. He sniffed, deliberate, taking his time, then shook his head. He hadn’t smelled xem, or else he hadn’t been able to pick xyr scent out of everything else. Evidently, xyr hiding place was masking xyr presence well enough, just like xe’d planned.

This area had quite a strong scent of its own, which was exactly why Rieka had chosen it. A more experienced shifter might have found xem anyway, but these were newcomers, still learning to interpret their heightened senses. All they’d smell here was dead and dying greenery, if they picked up any scent at all.

Unlike xyr students, Rieka could definitely smell this place in its entirety. It smelled like rot, sure, but there was so much more depth to it than just that. All around xem were fallen leaves, damp earth, and assorted products of decay. The ground was carpeted with moss and lichen, and the coarse dust of rotting wood clung to everything. If xe really concentrated, xe could almost pick out individual notes, sawdust and rain and the musty sweetness of some sort of fungus beneath the leaf litter. Xe wasn’t sure what kind it was, but it smelled nice, even if it made xyr nose itch a little.

Come on, xe urged xemself. Focus. Geek out later.

Outside xyr hollow, the three students crouched in a loose semicircle, conferring in whispers too faint for a normal human’s ears. “…check the way we came?”

The smallest shook his head. “No way xe snuck past Roz, not with her hearing.”

The leader — Roz, right, that was her name — nodded in agreement. “There are no good climbing trees up here, so that’s out too. Lots of brambles, though. I say we spread out farther, see if we can corner xem. Xe can’t have gone that far.”

The others nodded. They stood, one by one, and each strode off in a different direction. None of them spotted Rieka as they passed, but Roz did come close, kicking up a cloud of muck right in front of xyr hollow without realizing.

Shit. Xe would have held xyr breath, but the damage was already done. Whichever fungus was growing there, its spores were airborne now, and its scent wouldn’t be pleasant for much longer.

“Hhhih! Hh-hiihh-! HHIIIH!”

Rieka blinked tears away, watching xyr students’ progress through narrowed eyes. The tickle was spreading, climbing up into xyr sinuses and making xyr whole face buzz with irritation, but xe couldn’t give in. Not yet, not until the coast was clear. If xe got caught now, like this, xe would never hear the end of it.

“Hhiih’tchht!”

The sneeze echoed through the hole in the ground, or at least it seemed to. Rieka cringed, fighting to stay still and out of sight for a little longer. Xe wasn’t done, xe knew that, but surely xe could delay the inevitable for a few minutes.

“Hhh’ktsch! Hhktsch!”

Apparently, no, xe couldn’t. This was it, then. Xe was going to lose control, and xe would have to face xyr students like this, and xe would probably never teach another class after this one. Xe couldn’t keep this gig, no one would take xem seriously. It was just too embarrassing.

“Hhtchht! Hhtchnggt! HHUH’TCHNXT!”

Somehow, all three students kept walking. Maybe Rieka wasn’t being as loud as xe thought? No use speculating, not when xe still had to sneeze.

“Hhiihtsch! Hhtsch! Hhtsch-tsch-tsch-tschu! HHTSCHU!”

Finally, they were gone. Rieka scrambled up out of xyr hollow. Xe didn’t stop to question xyr luck, didn’t even wait to brush the dust and dirt and leaves from xyr clothes. Xe just bolted, sprinting farther into the woods in the one direction none of xyr students had taken.

There was a clearing that way, with a stream running through it. If xe hurried, xe could wash xyr face there before anyone else caught up.

Xe hit the path running, all elegance and stealth forgotten. Xyr footsteps kicked up more dust and debris, but xe kept moving, keeping xyr breath tightly controlled by sheer force of will. One step, then another, then another, faster and faster. Xyr nose burned, but Rieka was in xyr element now, fueled by determination and brute strength.

Soon enough, the stream came into view. Rieka sank down into the mud at the water’s edge, plunging xyr hands into the current and flinging water everywhere. It helped a little, clearing the offending spores from xyr skin and clothes, but it couldn’t clear xyr airways, and it was cold. Xe shivered, letting out a long, low noise somewhere between a gasp and a groan.

Xyr breath caught at the end of it, control starting to slip, then xe gasped again. It was harsh, desperate, the kind of sound xe never would have let xemself make by choice, but it happened anyway, in spite of xyr best efforts. Xe simply couldn’t resist any longer.

“Hhiih… hhh-hhaah-! Haahh-aaah-! HAHHH!”

Hopefully, no one was close enough to hear.

“Hhaahtschu! Hhah’ehtschuu! Hehht’TCHUHH! EHTCHHUHH! EHHTCHHUH! HEHHTCHHII! HEHHTCHIIUUE! EHTSCHIIUU! EHHSCHU! EHHTSHEEW! HEHHTSCHIIEWW!”

Once xe could breathe properly again, xe waited anxiously, listening for signs of life in the woods behind xem.

To xyr surprise, xe heard nothing. No laughter from the trees, not even a whisper. Either Rieka had gotten lucky, or the class had taken pity on xem and pretended not to notice anything amiss. No way to know without going to check, since xe couldn’t smell much of anything just then, but at least there was no obvious mockery afoot. The clearing was empty; no one was waiting to undermine xem. Imagine that.

Suddenly, xe realized just how ridiculous the whole situation was. Xe almost choked on xyr own laughter, bending down to wipe xyr face with another handful of water, and that only made xem laugh louder. It was just too much. No point stressing xemself out anymore; clearly, this was just one of those days when the universe felt like playing games.

Rieka sighed heavily, a little giddy with relief. Xe flopped backwards into the grass, stretched xyr limbs out wide, and let the last bits of tension float away downstream. Everything was fine now. Xe could rest in the clearing for a while, recover, then rejoin xyr students and pretend nothing had happened. Easy as pie.

Xe would have to get back to work at some point, sure, but that was fine. It wasn’t like there was any rush to wrap things up. The class had until sunset to conclude the hunt, and it was barely noon. Plenty of time to take a breather.

Maybe a little more than that, if xe was being completely honest. Finally letting go and sneezing openly had felt really good. That was new, no doubt about it, but it wasn’t entirely unwelcome. No harm in exploring that, right?

[kornstreifs-storys]

Ages of Ruin, Echoes from the Past, 9

The first Mew, Dos, looked up to the second Mew, Yukio, with clear annoyance. Dune could tell he wasn’t happy about how the situation panned out, but at the same time he couldn’t really yell at his friend for saving them. Dune hoped they were friends at least. Yukio on the other hand looked down on the group with a jovial smile. He was clearly pleased with his timing.

As Kiara recovered from the shock, she turned to the Mew in the sky and Dune could hear her say. “Anima, that was close. If it hadn’t been for you I might be dead right now.” Yukio bowed his head a little and replied, “Always happy to help.” Meanwhile Kuro still scanned the surrounding area. “Were those all of them?” he asked the Mews. Dos shrugged and Yukio explained, “I took out two more on my way here, but I don’t know how many were there to begin with.”

Dos looked grim as he said, “So there were more than eight, still that should have been all then.” Yukio nodded, “I didn’t spot any more while flying over the trees either.” Kuro visibly calmed a bit as he replied, “Then we can probably relax now.” then he looked at the two Mews and said, “Anyways I’m surprised to run into two Mews out here, Star told us Mythicals were quite rare these days.”

The Mews looked at each other. “Yeah that checks out,” they mentioned, “We haven’t run into any of our kind since the day without sun.” Star nodded, “Same here, after that it got quiet.” Kuro looked worried, “Enigma said the same thing and even Seraphore, …” he paused and looked around baffled, “What happened on that Gaia dammed day to screw up the world this much?”

Dunes group fell silent after that remark. Hadn’t they tried to answer that question from the very beginning. Now truth be told at first they had only wondered why Eevees could no longer evolve, but since then the more they discovered the more confusing and severe the situation looked and there seemed to be no answers in sight. But the Yukio cleared his throat.

“We might not know what exactly happened on that fateful day, but we do know what happened to all the mythicals.” he informed them. Star and Kuro snapped around, “Wait, what?!” the exclaimed simultaneously, “Well, tell us then!”. “Well,” Yukio started, but Dos interrupted, “How about you first tell us who you are and what you’re doing here. This information shouldn’t be shared with just anymon.” he said with a side glance at Yukio.

Shooting Star looked angry, “You mistrust us?” he asked, “After we helped you fight of these hollows.” Dos shrugged, “I’m just being cautious, the Intruder is cunning.” Dune looked at Kuro then back at the Mew, “The Intruder?” they both asked. Yukio nodded, but Dos said, “Look we’ll tell you more about ourselves too. This is just a simple precaution.”

Star exhaled sharply, “Very well then, but we should probably go to a quieter place, this is along story.” Dos and Yukio exchanged a glance and then nodded, “In that case follow us, we know the perfect hideout.” Kuro looked skeptical, “And why should we trust you?” he asked. “You shouldn’t,” Dos replied, “but you outnumber us, so you should be able to afford to be less cautious.”

Now Kuro looked at them with outright suspicion, Dune could feel the tension in his gaze as he replied, “Well, then don’t expect me to take my eyes of you, ‘Mew’.” Shooting Star also looked worried, but in the end they followed the Mews, to presumably their lair. They arrived at a shining rift in the air, it had four points and practically radiated with divine energy. Dune recognized it from Seraphore.

“A divine Sanctuary” Star exclaimed, “That is certainly a choice for a hideout.” Yukio chuckled, “Well the entry might be hard to miss, but since this rift is directly connected to Azazels realm, no Hollow can enter it unharmed.” Dos nodded in affirmation, “It’s perfect really. Probably one of the only truly save places around.” Star scoffed, “Well, I guess we’ll just have to take you word for it.”

They headed inside and found themselves on a gorgeous field of flowers, with a few trees strewn around. There was a spring in the center and a small creek flowed from it into a tiny orchard. It was truly a stunning sight and Dune had to stop for a while to take it all in. When she snapped back to reality, Dos had prepared a small camp next to the spring and gestured them to it.

“So now that were safe, how about you tell us that story of yours.” He said and while still weary, the group sat down and started their tale. The two Mew listened and Dune became aware, that this was already the third or fourth time she had told this story. Who knew that her life would someday become this interesting. She could have lived without it in hindsight.

When they finished, Dos sighed and summarized,” So let me get this straight, You met Seraphore. One of you died and came back. You’re currently traveling with a reaper, you have a glitch in your group and two of you are Champions on top of that.” Kuro nodded, “That about sums it up.” he replied. The Mew paused, “And now your searching for the ‘last human’ and that’s why you came here?” Dune nodded this time.

Yukio and Dos looked at each other, then smiled. “Well, today’s your lucky day then,” Dos exclaimed, “Because you’re standing right in frond of him.”

- to be continued -

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Start / previous / next Cover (Ch. 4)

Another page, another cliff hanger. I'm on a roll lately.

Anyways, tumblr gets the update first this time, thats rare and Our heros make their first actual progres in their quest. That's also rare, I wonder if it'll last.

Well you'll have to wait and find out. See you next time.

Also check my DeviantArt.

[gigilberry]

[ID: Screenshots from the book "Tales of Pixie Hollow 1: The Trouble With Tink" by Kiki Thorpe

Image 1:

Tink hesitated. “I lost my hammer,” she blurted at last.

As soon as the words left her lips, Tink felt relieved. It was as if she’d let out a huge breath that she’d been holding in.

“Is that all it is?” Terence said. He almost laughed. It seemed like such a small thing. “But you could borrow a hammer,” he suggested.

Tink told Terence about the hammer she’d made from a pebble and the one she’d borrowed from the carpenter fairy. “Neither of them works,” she explained. “I need a tinker’s hammer.”

“Maybe there’s a spare—” Terence began.

“I have a spare,” Tink wailed. She’d already been over this so many times in her own mind. “But it’s…I…I left it at Peter Pan’s hideout.”

“He won’t give it back?” asked Terence.

Tink shook her head. “I haven’t asked.” She looked away.

Terence didn’t know much about Peter Pan, only that Tink had been friends with him and then—suddenly—she wasn’t. But he saw that Tink was upset and ashamed, and he didn’t ask her anything more. Again, Tink felt a surge of gratitude toward him.

They sat silently for a moment, looking up at the stars.

“I could go with you,” Terence said at last. “To Peter Pan’s, I mean.”

Image 2:

Tink turned to Peter and said, “It’s been so good to see you, Peter. But we have to go back to the fairy kingdom now.”

Peter looked at her in surprise. “What? Now? But what about hide-and-seek?”

Tink shook her head. She was glad to realize that she didn’t want to stay, not for hide-and-seek or anything else. She wanted to get back to Pixie Hollow, back to her pots and pans. That was where she belonged.

Tink flew so close to Peter’s face that he had to cross his eyes to see her. She kissed the bridge of his freckled nose. “I’ll come back soon to visit,” she promised. And she meant it.

Then, taking Terence’s hand, she flew back out of the jackfruit tree and into the forest.

Below this text, a full color picture of Tinkerbell flying close to Peter Pan's nose. /End ID]

According to the disney fairies book series, it's the other way around. Tinkerbell was born in Pixie Hollow but later went out and met Peter, then she returned to live in Pixie Hollow full time.

Low-key invested with how Tinkerbell went from full time career girl to chilling with Peter Pan all the damn time