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liloinkoink · 1 month

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last night i asked if people would be interested in me posting a backstory piece for Martyn from the hero/villain / yellow rose au i’ve posted a single oneshot for despite the fact the backstory piece doesn’t seem to outwardly relate to the posted oneshot. no one outright shot me down so. here you go

for some context, the powers in this world of yellow rose come from a catastrophic event that took place almost 20 years prior to the start of the story, which wiped out a lot of the world’s cities/towns and gave many of the survivors powers or mutations

backstory takes place when Martyn is 0-10 years old (he was born shortly before the aforementioned catastrophic event) and focuses on an OC parent character / martyn’s relationship to said parent

anyway. yellow rose is an au made w @cherrifire. time for you all to meet robot dad

It’s hot on the day the world ends. This is not the only thing it remembers, but it’s one that still stands out, even years down the line.

It’d been dealing with a patient with symptoms of heatstroke, the third it had seen in an hour. Heatstroke is an easy enough ailment to give to a nurse bot to treat, so it gets the job. It had stepped out of its patient’s room and run into a doctor, who had asked it to fetch something from the basement storage.

This is why it had survived, it thinks, looking back. It had been in the basement, and by some stroke of luck, the building had not collapsed so completely as to destroy it alongside the rest of the building.

It had not had a concept of luck before that moment, before the shaking had stopped and the dust had cleared, leaving it mostly in tact. Once it had forced its way up the stairs, it found it was not sure whether surviving the collapse was good or bad luck.

When the nurse bot tried to ring its network for help, it found the line inside its head had gone dead. When it looked to the surrounding street, it found hundreds of buildings similarly smoldering. When it called out, it found only its own voice returning to it.

The nurse bot had tried to comb through the wreckage of its practice, looking for survivors. It found nothing, heard nothing, but it still attempted to sift through the rubble, to search for the people it had been built to assist.

A nurse bot’s arms are not meant to move stone and iron, however. It was not used to the strange things that happened in its processing when it thought about what might be under the wreckage, and did not know how to handle them. It made a mistake, lifting things it could not, and when the wreckage in its grasp had buckled…

Well. It had thought itself lucky, distantly, that unlike humans, robots are not generally “handed” in one way or the other. Statistically, it would have preferred its right hand, and it would have been much worse off when the debris crushed its arm, taking its limb from the elbow down.

Ah, and pain, of course. It would have been quite bad if it had been able to feel pain, or bleed. It probably would have died, had this fallen on it, or had it lost a flesh and blood arm.

It… does not look in the wreckage any longer.

The nurse bot did not know what to do, with the practice it had spent its whole existence in destroyed. It had never been outside before—at least, not while activated. It had never left the walls of the hospital it was built for. It had not been intended to function without direction.

It knew its purpose, though, direction or not. The nurse bot had been built to heal. It knew, direction or not, how to do this, and that it must do this. And certainly, if it looks, it would fine someone out there who needed it.

When it comes to matters of health, time is of the essence. With its direction decided, the nurse bot begins to walk.

It finds people, rarely, stumbling and unharmed, or nursing small bruises or minor sprains. It helps these when it can, and gives advice when it cannot. It finds bodies, often, and it looks away, as it has never seen a funeral, and it does not know to help the dead except to assist the living.

It finds a woman soon to be a body, despite its best efforts to help her. It lacks supplies to stop the flow of blood from her wounds, and the woman lacks any hope without stitches or bandages.

It offers her sympathies, and it holds in its one hand both of hers. There is little it can say to her, but it tries, quiet promises of I am here and I will not leave you and you will be at peace soon.

She holds its hand with all the strength in her body, knuckles white as paper, a stark contrast against the dark blood staining the rest of her body. It feels as the strength fades. It watches as the light in her eyes fades with it. She lets it go, and it closes her eyes.

The nurse bot keeps walking, keeps looking, until it hears crying. The sound is loud, a desperate sob of a young child, and it seems to stem from a building sagging in three places, roof and door and floor all ready to give in.

If it were human, the nurse bot may have thought the place too risky to enter. But it is not, and so in it goes, pushing the door open with one hand.

It finds the boy lying in his crib, a round-faced infant wrapped in a patterned onesie and kicking away a thin blanket. He cannot be more than a year old—the nurse boy would guess him to be maybe six months. The fact the boy and his crib have survived the destruction of the city is a miracle, one not offered to the rest of the home.

It reaches down into the crib, brushing its hand over the boy’s face. His sobs stumble, a bit curious, but the baby ultimately doesn’t stop crying.

The nurse bot hadn’t worked with a pediatrician, but it knows about children, as any nurse bot would.

“Are you hungry?” it asks. He doesn’t answer except to cry more, which is understandable—this is what babies do, it knows, and besides, this has been the chosen course of action for most of the people it saw today.

It could not help those people, but it can help with this.

The nurse bot steps away from the crib to examine the boy’s room, though the boy cries louder when its face disappears from his view.

“I will return shortly,” it tells him. This assurance does not calm him down.

It finds what it can in the rest of the home—food for the baby, a warmer blanket, a box of diapers. It finds the living room, where living is not what his parents are doing, and gingerly shuts the door. It finds a photo album and flips through, searching for the information it needs: delicate handwriting next to an image of the boy, held in the arms of the woman on the floor a room over.

April 7th, 20XX: Welcome to the world, Martyn!

His name is Martyn. His birthday is April 7th. The nurse bot usually keeps these things on file about its patients, and so it files them away.

When it returns to the crib, the baby inside is no longer crying, having worn himself out. It reaches down again, face blank.

“Hello, Martyn,” it says, “I am going to be your caretaker for now. I hope we will get along well.”

— — —

They don’t stay in the house. It finds a baby carrier in a closet and a duffle bag in the bedroom, and it packs what Martyn will need and carries him out of the collapsing home.

Martyn laughs a lot. Once he’s been fed and changed and has slept, the nurse bot finds he laughs all the time.

He doesn’t know, it thinks. He must miss his parents, probably, but he doesn’t know. He isn’t old enough to understand any of this. He watches the broken and bloodied street with awe—has he ever been this far from home before? This is all a big adventure to him.

It doesn’t tell him.

— — —

It stops three times a day to change and feed him, and to let him crawl around in the cleanest and sturdiest places it can find.

“Movement is good for development,” it tells him, watching him play with a piece of rubble.

It doesn’t stop to rest at night—it doesn’t need to, and the rocking motion of his continued steps helps Martyn sleep. When that isn’t enough, it tries to replicate the songs it has heard playing in the clinic’s waiting room, or seen mothers and fathers sing in the clinic to calm their children. Martyn seems to like that.

He likes the nurse bot’s hair, too. He tugs on it all the time as the nurse bot walks, held close to its chest, close enough to its head to access it. It lets him—it doesn’t hurt, and besides, it has few other ways to entertain him.

— — —

Martyn grows. He starts to babble, and to toddle. He becomes too big for the bot to carry him, but by then it has become adept at finding places to hunker down for a while.

“Your name is Martyn,” the bot tells him, pointing to his nose.

“Ma,” he tries.

“Very close,” it says. He grabs its hand, tugging, and continues to babble.

“Da,” he says, and it knows that he doesn’t have a concept of fathers or parents or the English language, and he is only making sounds.

“That is me,” it says anyway, and Martyn continues to babble.

— — —

“Dad,” Martyn tugs on its arm, barely tall enough to reach its fingers. “Daaaad.”

“Hello, Martyn,” it says, “What is it?”

“I’m bored,” Martyn says, “And I’m hungry.”

“We still have some food left for you, though I should start a fire soon,” it says, “We will need to move soon. Children your age need a variety of foods to—”

“Grow up healthy, I know,” Martyn whines, “That’s boring. I’m bored.”

“What would you like to do?” it asks, and he lets go of its hand, running off. It stands to follow, but then he’s back, holding a battered old book—some kind of short novel, something with a torn cover that used to have a dragon on it. The title is gone, as is the dragon’s head.

“Read this,” he says. Martyn is learning to read, but he hasn’t quite got the grasp to read a real book on his own yet.

This hasn’t stopped Martyn from searching for them, though, nor from presenting them to his father to read. It had started reading one aloud to Martyn to entertain him when Martyn had come down with a fever last year, and he hasn’t stopped asking to hear them since.

“After you eat,” it says, and Martyn cheers.

—

There is a group of survivors picking their way through town. The bot sees them before they see it, watching the street from a window. It does not know their intentions, and it doesn’t plan to find out.

It crouches down in front of Martyn, putting its hand on his shoulder.

“Hello,” it says, “We’re going to play a game, okay?”

“Okay,” Martyn says, and it nods, once.

“It is called hide and seek,” it says, “There are some people who are looking around town, trying to play, and we are going to hide from them. We will win if we are not found.”

“That’s a dumb game. Why don’t we play something else?” Martyn asks.

“It is their favorite game. We are going to play because that is what they like to do. But we are going to be very good at it and hide very well,” it says, “You can hide with me, okay? If we win, there will be a special prize.”

That’s all it takes to convince Martyn, who smiles and nods and follows it as it ducks away into the closet. Its legs creak as it sits down, and then it opens its arm, letting him sit in its lap. It can’t be comfortable, all cold metal, but Martyn wraps his arms around its torso and settles right in, content with the hand on his back.

“Now we must be very quiet,” it tells him, “I will tell you when we can talk again.”

Martyn nods, and it puts its hand on the back of his head, and it waits.

When the strangers leave, it asks him what he would like for his prize.

“Hug me again!” He says, and it obliges for as long as he wants.

— — —

Halfway through its sentence, the bot’s voice cuts out.

That has not happened before. Martyn seems unfazed, especially when it begins to talk again, but it takes note of the error.

— — —

It happens more. Its voice cuts out, stutters, corrupts. Martyn really only complains when they’re reading, but it starts to fear the worst.

It sits Martyn down, crouching down to meet his eyes.

“Martyn, I have something very important to tell- to tell- to tell you,” it says, and if it could, it would wince.

“Yeah?” Martyn asks, “Are we moving again?”

“Soon,” it says, “But that is not what I want to tell you.”

“Oh,” Martyn says.

“I am… sick. Do you remember what being sick is?” it asks. Martyn nods, reaching up to put his hand on its forehead, the way it had for him when he had been feverish.

“You feel warm,” Martyn confirms, “It’s okay. I’ll read to you until you’re better.”

“Thank you, Martyn. You are very kind,” it says, “But that is not the kind of sick I am. There are many kinds of sick.”

“Oh,” Martyn says, “Then what kind of sick are you?”

“I am… robot sick. I am- I am- I am- I am- getting old,” it says, “And my voice is starting to… not work properly.”

“I know that,” Martyn says, “You talk funny now and you keep messing up reading.”

“Yes, that’s right. You’re very smart,” it confirms, “But it might get worse. I might not be able to talk anymore soon.”

“But you’ll get better, right? I got better,” Martyn says. It shakes its head.

“I might, but I might not. Robot sick is different,” it says, though it knows it is lying. “I just wanted you to know. If you talk to me and I do not respond, I am not ignoring you. I am still listening. I am just sick, and my voice- my voice- my voice- my voice—”

It shakes its head, the way humans sometimes do, to clear the sentence. When it looks at Martyn again, he seems thoughtful.

“Will you still read to me?” he asks.

“As long as I am able,” it promises. And, for good measure, “I love you, Martyn. Do not forget.”

“I won’t,” Martyn says, “I love you, too.”

— — —

It makes a point to show him how to read. He had already been learning it, but it doubles down when its voice begins to waver.

It picks up novels and reads them to him with Martyn in its lap. It holds its arm around Martyn’s waist, and Martyn holds the book for it to see, and it reads the words Martyn points to, so Martyn knows what they are.

It doesn’t want him to lose this. It doesn’t want him to lose his fun, his creativity, his imagination, just because it cannot read to him anymore.

— — —

It loses its voice for good while it is reading to Martyn.

— — —

Its voice is the first thing it loses, but it is not the last.

Control of its fingers becomes… tricky. Martyn has to help it, doing things that require finer movements.

“Is your hand sick?” he asks, and he sounds afraid. It nods, because it knows it shouldn’t lie to him, even if it wants to.

It loses what little control it had over its face next. Then its neck becomes stuck. It doesn’t seem able to walk as fast, though that might just be due to Martyn getting faster—he grows older still, full of energy, constantly wanting to run and jump and play on his longer legs. It tries its best, but it cannot keep pace like it used to. It used to sing and walk all night, and now it cannot do either.

Martyn is as patient as a six year old can be, which is not very. He gets frustrated and bored, and he complains often. It does not blame him for this. He is doing his best, too, and that is all it can ask.

— — —

There are people. It tries to hide—pulls Martyn into a closet, tucks him close to its chest, pets his hair with his hand—but Martyn doesn’t like to play hide and seek, and he doesn’t know he has to be quiet.

“My name is Martyn!” he tells them, once the closet door opens, “This is Dad. He’s sick.”

They’re nice enough, a woman and her teenage son. It—he, now?—releases Martyn to talk to them, and climbs out of the closet. He hovers at Martyn’s side when they climb out, a hand on his son’s head.

“Why were you two in the closet?” the mother asks.

“We were playing hide and seek. That’s what Dad said other people like to do, but I don’t like it very much,” Martyn explains. She nods.

“Most people do like to play that game,” she says, because, as a parent, she must understand his fear. “But we don’t, either. Do you want to travel together for a little while, Martyn?”

“I want to!” Martyn says, and he looks up at his father, and his father would sigh if he could.

He nods, because what else is he meant to do?

— — —

The teenager entertains Martyn, reading to him the book his father never did get to finish. The mother cooks, and she takes a look at his hands.

“I used to be an engineer,” she says, “You’re a bit above my pay grade, but I could take a look, if you want.”

He doesn’t let her crack him open or anything, but she inspects the pieces of his wiring she can see. He’s reminded of his old clinic, though he can’t tell her how ironic this is.

Her prognosis is… grim.

“You probably only have a few years left in you,” she admits, “Your model was supposed to go for regular updates, replacing parts and…”

He doesn’t listen as she explains the old process, his focus instead on Martyn.

Only a few years? What will happen to Martyn? Who will take care of him?

Humans need care until they are eighteen.

Martyn is six.

“I could try and make some minor repairs for some of the obvious damage, but I don’t have tools for anything more. I can also try and tell you some things you can do to try and stretch that time out,” she says. He nods, understanding, grateful, as she does what she can.

He had been in her place, once, years ago, and so he understands, too, when she offers sympathies, when she holds his hand.

— — —

They split off from each other eventually. The other two are traveling to a place they claim never fell. He does not believe in such a place, and so he does not go with them.

Martyn cries. The mother hugs him, as does her son, and they are gone.

As they walk away, he holds Martyn’s hand, and he does not let go.

— — —

He teaches Martyn how to do… anything he can. He is too young to understand how to hunt or set a trap or clean an animal or cook or treat a fever or start a fire or boil water, and it is very difficult to teach when he cannot speak. He’d wanted to wait until Martyn is older, he does not have the luxury of time anymore.

Martyn is clever, is bright. He takes to the skills as well as a six, eight, ten year old can, and it is only partly due to the fact he has no choice.

— — —

He knows he is dying.

Martyn does not.

He picks up a stick, waving Martyn over. There is a patch of dirt that is mostly clear, and he crouches in front of it.

I AM SICK he writes, and Martyn reads it, and he frowns.

“I know that,” Martyn says, and he shakes his head. The dirt is soft, and so he clears it, trying again.

I AM VERY SICK he writes. Martyn reads it, and he frowns deeper.

“What does that mean?” Martyn asks.

I WILL SLEEP SOON he writes. He wants to be delicate, but he can’t—the patch of dirt isn’t very big.

“Oh, well, that’s okay. I sleep all the time,” Martyn says, “That’s how you get healthy again. It makes you feel better. You told me that.”

He wants to nod, but he can’t. This is the bit he was dreading the most.

I WILL NOT WAKE UP he writes.

For a long moment, Martyn doesn’t say anything.

“What if we get you medicine?” Martyn asks, “When— when I was sick, you found medicine. It made me better. It would make you better.”

NOT FOR ROBOTS

“That… that isn’t fair, though,” Martyn says, “Are you sure? We could get some and try it!”

I AM SURE he writes, and then he erases it, I LOVE YOU

Again, Martyn says nothing. He isn’t sure what Martyn is thinking, and then Martyn charges him, hugging him around the stomach.

He has more he wants to say to Martyn—he wants to teach him so much, to tell him to be careful, to tell him he’ll be okay.

He drops the stick, wrapping his arm around Martyn as tight as his failing joints will let him.

— — —

His goal is to find somewhere safe. An old house, maybe, somewhere where Martyn will be able to survive on his own for a while.

He looks, and he does not find it. He’s been looking for ten years, after all—of course he wouldn’t find one now, just because he is dying.

Other than that, his life does not much change. He holds Martyn’s hand as they walk, and Martyn talks to him about birds and books and whatever else he can think of. Martyn has become very good at filling the air for them both. Neither of them let go of the other’s hand.

He doesn’t actually know when it is going to happen, just that it will be soon.

When the moment finally comes, he does not realize.

They stop to rest for a night. Martyn is tired, as he is a child, and his legs can only carry him so far. He is tired, too, but he does not have it in him to think about why, or how strange that is.

It’s nowhere special, where they stop. A random house that has kept its roof, somewhere safe from rain and sun. Martyn finds a place to roll out his sleeping bag, and when he lies down, his father lies with him.

He does not let go of Martyn’s hand.

#lew writes #yellow rose au #robot dad #top hits

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zepskies · 23 days

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August Fic Recs

Hey, friends!

I got inspired by the awesome monthly rec posts that @winchestergirl2 and @deanwinchesterswitch put together, and decided to try this out. I might not do this every month, but we'll see! lol I now realize how much time and effort this takes, so to you guys who do this on the regular, I salute you! 🫡 😂

Note: If the author provided a summary, I'll include it. If not, and if it's untitled, I'll include the first line of the story. If it's a series and the author provided a series masterlist link in the chapter post, I'll also include it. MINORS BEWARE: a lot of this is 18+ content!

Supernatural

Dean Winchester x Reader:

@mxltifxnd0m -

Cute Glasses

Boyfriend Headcanons

@dewwinchester -

Stitches Summary: Dean texts you for help, and you drop everything for him.

@dean-winchester-is-a-warrior -

Things Learned and Unlearned | Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15 Summary: Y/N has spent her life trying to outrun her mother's reputation. When she meets the rich and successful playboy, Dean Winchester, how quickly can he get her to stop running?

Every Fucking Time Summary: You want to help Dean, but he knows you can't.

@talltalesandbedtimestories -

Just a Little Spice Summary: Dean likes to spice things up, but it would be nice if he didn’t have to put his life in danger in the process.

@luci-in-trenchcoats -

Oh, Baby Summary: When Dean is cursed on a hunt and turned into a baby, the reader has to take care of him along with Sam. Dean however, is a bit more adult than they might realize…

A Shirtless Winchester

Imagine...Breaking Dean Out of Jail

@zeppelinlvr -

"Better?" "Much" Summary: waking up next to Dean and getting ready with him.

@ohsc -

Help You

@rizlowwritessortof -

Sweet Escape - Part 1, Part 2 Summary: What happens when a friend jokingly does a spell at your birthday party to bring your cardboard standup of Dean Winchester to life?

@deans-queen -

Stolen Moments Summary: Y/N finds herself unable to resist capturing a rare, peaceful moment of Dean Winchester sleeping in a motel room. But when Dean wakes up and catches her in the act, what starts as an innocent photo op quickly turns into an intimate encounter.

Sweet Distractions Summary: Reader (Y/N) is at the bunker, working on an essay for her Child Development class. When Dean comes to check on her, his bad-boy charm quickly becomes a distraction she can’t resist, no matter how hard she tries.

@tofics -

Let There Be Light Summary: You, Dean and Sam are fighting America's monsters together. Coming from a long line of hunters, you fit right in with the Winchester boys, despite having been raised entirely different from the two. Where you were brought up with love and care, John raised Sam and Dean with rules and obedience. Seeing what Dean does for the world, you decide it's time that he gets his own share of love...

@jackles010378 -

A Sweet Treat Summary: Dean gets a little excited when Y/N makes his favourite treat.

Dean Winchester x OC:

@rizlowwritessortof -

Remember Me - Part 4

@spnbabe67 -

Girls, Girls, Girls Summary: While on a witch hunt Dean gets hit with a spell. Later at the hotel, Dean feels the effects of the spell and Tori has to help him through it.

It Takes Two Summary: Dean and Tori get roped into doing a pregnancy yoga session and he reminisces on how he found out she was pregnant. (Dean's POV)

Comfortember Day 7: Sick As A Dog Summary: When Dean wakes up sick, it's up to Tori to make him feel better again.

Comfortember 2023 Master List

The Broken Heart Trilogy Master List

Sam Winchester x Reader:

@ohsc -

Delicate

Untitled Drabble - "She wouldn't stop giggling."

The Boys

Soldier Boy x Reader:

@kaleldobrev -

Yes Ma'am (Soldier Boy x Plus-size!Reader) Summary: Macho Man Ben never thought he’d ever take orders from a woman; but now he does so with a smile (aka Ben is whipped and he doesn’t care).

After Everything Summary: You and Ben have a heart-to-heart.

@artyandink -

The Art of Heresy - Prequel, Chapter 1, Chapter 2 Summary: Modern day, 2022, and you have no clue what’s going on. You knew what you went through. You knew it was real, but why were there people trying to convince you that everything that happened to you wasn’t real. Hell, you called bullshit. But you get your chance to fight back when you get a call at your door.

Billy Butcher x Reader:

@lady-z-writes -

Untitled Drabble - "Butcher stumbles in the office. Haggard, nothing new."

Tracker

Russell Shaw x Reader:

@impala-dreamer -

Don't Mention It

@luci-in-trenchcoats -

M.I.A. Summary: When Colter Shaw calls the reader for help on a job, she thinks nothing of helping out. Only he never shows up and Colter may have just become the latest disappearance in this small town. It’s up to her and Russell to work together to find him before his case goes cold like all the others before…

Jacklesverse

Various characters portrayed by Jensen Ackles and/or crossovers:

@deanbrainrotwritings -

Jacklesverse Bingo 2023 Masterlist

@justagirlinafandomworld -

Stranded - SPN/The Boys crossover: Soldier Boy & Reader, with a mention of Dean.

@lamentationsofalonelypotato -

It's Not a Big Deal - SPN/The Boys crossover: Soldier Boy x Reader, with a side helping of Dean. Summary: Dean's in for a rude awakening when he finds out exactly what you did when you got stranded in another universe.

@artyandink -

Nature's Beauty Summary: You have stretch marks. How would the boys react to that?

Chicago Med

Will Halstead x Reader:

@deanstead -

5 Times You Held Back + 1 Time You Didn't Have To Summary: Five times you held back, and the one time you didn’t have to.

Wow, I read a lot this month! 😂 I hope you enjoy these lovely writers and their stories as much as I did. 💜

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beyondthesefourwalls · 2 years

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Remember You Even When I Don't (1)

Summary: A training accident, the doctor had told him. A nasty one that led him here, laying in a hospital bed with a splitting headache and an inability to remember the woman sitting beside him. What he did know, though, was that you were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, and you felt important to him. That, as it turns out, would become an understatement.

Words: 2.7K

Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw/Reader (no use of y/n, so can be read as unnamed oc)

Warnings: angst, hospitals, memory loss, language.

Notes: I'm so excited and so nervous to be posting this. It was originally going to be a one shot, but it got a little out of control and so I've decided to try and split it up into multiple parts.

This was inspired by a one shot by the lovely @roosterforme and would not exist without her assistance. If you haven't read any of her stuff, please check out her masterlist - you won't be disappointed!

------

He woke up feeling like his mouth had been stuffed with cotton balls and an ice pick had been taken to his head over and over and over again. The pain was blinding. The grimace on his face must show, because suddenly there was a squeeze to his hand and a soft voice by his ear.

“Bradley?”

That’s him, he recognized, maybe taking a little bit longer than he should have to realize that fact.

“Oh, Bradley. Can you open your eyes for me, honey?”

His movements felt slow to him, delayed and lethargic and like he’s fighting against more g-forces than he ever has. It takes him a moment to pry his eyes open, but when he does, he immediately flinches and squeezes them shut again.

“Shit, oh my god I’m sorry,” that voice speaks again. The pressure on his hand is released and he hears what must be the squeak of a chair being pushed back. A soft click sounds through the room, but it felt like another clink of the ice pick on his skull. It’s a little less bright beyond his eyelids now, though. In another moment, his hand is warm as it’s encased in another again. “Lights are off now.”

It felt like a tremendous effort to open his eyes again, and the process is slow. As he came into consciousness a little more fully, he registered the pain in more than just his head. And oh, there was a lot of it. He tried to shift just the slightest bit and immediately regretted it. It felt like every centimeter of him hurt. God, even blinking hurts.

The room comes in and out of focus, and even when it mostly clears, there was a slight blur around the edges of his vision. He recognized enough to know he was in a hospital. The white walls, the iv running through the crook of his elbow, the continuous beep beep beep of the monitor on one side of the bed are a giveaway to that.

“Baby, baby, hey, don’t try and move, okay?”

The voice on the other side of the bed must belong to whoever is holding his hand. Despite the request, he couldn’t help but slowly, slowly turn his head in that direction. The voice was captivating, melodic, almost, and he wanted to see who it belonged to. It takes a moment for his eyes to focus on you, but when they do, he’s blown away.

“Wow,” he breathed out in awe, his voice scratchy and sore, “you’re beautiful.”

The breathtaking woman holding his hand laughs, and the sound is beautiful, but then tears well in your eyes. He doesn’t like that, he decided. He’s confused as to why he cares as much as he does about that fact. “Please don’t cry.”

“I’m sorry,” you responded as you wiped under your eyes, “it’s just so good to hear your voice and see those eyes, baby.”

There’s something he’s missing. The nagging feeling in the back of his head tells him that it’s something important, vital, imperative to his very survival. He racked his brain to try and find what it was, but the pain was so severe and his vision was starting to go in and out again the more he tried to figure it out. God, what happened to him?

“Let me call your doctor,” you insist, and you’re standing to press the button on his bed when he tries to speak through the pain again.

“Are you…not my doctor?”

His voice was low, but he knew you heard him by how your entire body froze and your watery eyes snapped to him. Tears were welling again, he noticed in his blurred vision, but the look you have in your eyes was different this time.

He felt like he did something wrong.

You pressed the call button over and over again, more times than is probably necessary, before sinking back into the chair that he was starting to think you’ve been in for a long time. It felt like your hand was holding onto his a little bit harder now.

“Bradley…do you know who I am? Do you know my name?”

The pain in his body was ricocheting through him so viciously that he felt he may throw up, but he tried to push through it and think anyway. It felt important. You felt important, but he couldn’t figure out why. And he couldn’t think of your name, either. It’s that feeling of being right there on the tip of his tongue, but it just wouldn’t come out.

“I can’t remember. I’m sorry. Should I?”

You gasped lightly and he doesn’t like that sound, either. Before he could try and apologize, for something he wasn’t completely clear on, the door to his room opened and suddenly there were way more than the two of you in the room. He’s surrounded by white coats and navy blue scrubs and your hand wasn’t in his anymore and he missed the feel of it. He flailed slightly, trying to find it once more, but you were being ushered to the back of the small hospital room and that doesn’t feel right, either.

“No,” he muttered, not listening to any of the medical personnel asking him questions and poking and prodding at him. He just knew that he wanted you back beside him, looking like you did when he first woke up, not sad like you did now.

Everything hurt.

Someone was shining a light in his eyes and he was so overcome with it that he at first didn’t notice how everyone in the room stopped moving when he had been asked what year it is and he had said 2018. He answered again when they asked who the current President was and his date of birth.

By the collective intake of breath throughout the room, it seemed the last one was the only one he got right.

“Lieutenant Commander -”

“It’s just Lieutenant.”

The doctor clicked his flashlight off and took a small step back, clearing his throat and contemplating his words before he spoke. “According to your official Navy file, you were promoted to Lieutenant Commander two years ago. And unfortunately, Lieutenant Commander, it’s no longer 2018. It’s 2022, sir.”

The beeping of his heart monitor was starting to quicken, and his own breathing was loud in his ears.

The doctor started speaking again, but Bradley couldn’t hear him. There was a consistent buzzing in his head. He was starting to get unbelievably dizzy. He felt like he was going to be sick. Throughout it, his eyes were still on you. The tears were streaming freely now, no longer being pushed away in defiance, with your hands covering your mouth as you stared back at him like you were having a hard time seeing him.

A shimmering caught his attention and for the first time, he noticed the ring on your left finger. The edges on his vision started to go dark, and as the possibility of what that meant hit him, he no longer felt or saw anything at all.

_________

He had been unconscious for three days.

A training accident, the doctor had told him, and a nasty ejection that involved not only slamming into the canopy, but into the plane itself. He was unconscious before he ever hit the ground, but his parachute had done its job on at least getting him there. More broken ribs than intact ones, a collapsed lung, more cuts and bruises to add to the regular collection, and a skull fracture and swelling on his brain that explained his massive headache and his apparent lack of memory.

Four years of his life.

Four. Years.

Somehow, though, that wasn’t the most shocking thing he had heard since regaining consciousness.

The woman in the room was his wife. You were his wife and he didn’t remember you. But he knew you. He knew that he knew you. He could feel it in his aching bones when he looked at you.

It took a long time for the two of you to be alone again. A nurse had been in the room when he next woke up and the doctors quickly followed to explain all that had happened to him. He had almost immediately been rolled away for a variety of testing, poking and prodding. He wasn’t sure how long it took, but by the time he made it back to his room, there was no natural light filtering in through the windows anymore, and the ward itself was a little bit quieter. It must have been late.

You gave him the smallest of smiles from the chair next to his bed as the nurse who brought him back made sure all of his monitors were hooked up properly. She explained a few things to the both of you, seemingly unfazed to be sharing his medical information with someone he didn’t know. He supposed it didn’t matter, though. Because you’re his wife, and it’s your legal right to have this information.

When Nurse Anne finally left, the two of you simply stared at one another. The air felt awkward, taught with unfamiliar tension. It settled over the room for a moment before you cleared your throat. He tried not to focus on how you were playing with the ring on your finger, twisting it around with your thumb.

“How are you -“

“I don’t know your name.”

He didn’t mean to blurt out the words, especially when it cut off whatever you were about to ask him. But the thought has been going through his mind since you had asked him when he first woke up what must be hours ago now.

He had hoped for a revelation when you told him. Your name bounced around in his head, searching for something. But the only thing he found was disappointment when nothing hit him.

He was tired and wanted to go to sleep. Even with the pain medication continuously dripping through the IV, his whole body hurt, but he couldn’t, now. He was desperate to speak to you. He wanted to make some sort of sense of this mess, but part of him, some part he was no longer familiar with, also just wanted to hear your voice again.

“How…how long have we been married?”

“Three years,” you sighed, rubbing your eyes. It seemed that all he’d made you do since he woke up was cry. Bradley could tell that you were holding yourself together with all the strength you could muster. He admired you for that. You must have realized quickly that he was distracted or that the math was hurting his still aching head, so you followed up by explaining you had only been dating for four months before he proposed, and had been married by month six.

Despite all the confusion and both the physical and mental hurt, he couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips. “You were crazy enough to say yes after four months?”

You laughed, and oh, he thought, that’s a beautiful sound.

“You definitely aren’t the first person to accuse me of that,” you revealed, though it didn’t come as much of a surprise because it made sense. Meeting and marrying in half a year was intimidating, and a bit insane in his eyes. He had always been slow to trust and even slower to love. He wondered about those first four months and what they must have been like to inspire him to propose, but instead of asking, he took the quiet that came over the room as an opportunity to just…look at you. There was an ache in his chest that he couldn’t quite explain as he does.

Your hair was pulled back loosely at the base of your neck, more than a few pieces falling out of the hold the band had on it. You were in plain black leggings and an oversized Eagles sweatshirt that threatened to swallow you. In the back of his muddled mind, he questions if it was his, or if you maybe shared his enjoyment for the sport and team. Your skin was blotchy and your eyes were puffy from all the tears.

You looked as exhausted as he felt, but you were still so, so beautiful. He doesn’t know if he’d ever seen anyone so beautiful, in fact. It was the first thing he had thought when he woke up the first time, and his opinion hadn’t changed.

“This must be really overwhelming for you,” you said after a few minutes of silence. He could sense your nervousness rising and noticed how you were rubbing your rings again - he wondered if it was a tell of yours all the time. “I don’t - I don’t want to make that worse, so I - I can go, if you’d like me to.”

“Go?” he questioned. Something that felt like panic flickered inside of him. He doesn’t think he likes that idea.

“Yes. If you wanted to be alone. Or I could - I guess I could have someone else come stay with you?” You looked like you dreaded the idea of it, but he knew you would do it if it was what he wanted, and wasn’t that something? He had never had someone who would willingly put themselves through hurt if it made him feel better. Your last question raised one of his own, though, and he couldn’t help but ask.

“Have you…been here the whole time?”

“Of course,” you whispered with a nod. You leant forward in your chair like you were going to grab his hand but stopped yourself at the last second. You were still rubbing the rings on your left hand as you considered the words you were going to say.

“I had to have my gallbladder removed last year,” you spoke again after a moment. His eyebrows furrowed, searching for a memory and coming up short. He didn’t know where you were going with this. “I was at home when I started getting these really bad pains. I would have thought it was my appendix, but I had that removed when I was a kid. After the pain didn’t go away I decided I should probably go to the hospital. I knew you were in the air that day so I left you a voicemail and sent you a text about what was happening. They had just put me in a room after running a few tests to figure out what was wrong when you came crashing in, demanding to talk to a doctor about what was wrong with me and then demanding to know why I wasn’t already in surgery if my gallbladder was so inflamed and infected that it was causing me as much pain as it was. I was in the hospital for less than 24 hours but you were there the whole time, holding my hand. Then you took time off work so that you could stay at home with me. For the first few days, if I did anything more than lift the tv remote or turn the page in my book, you were stopping me so that you could do it yourself. You were so worried about me.”

He could feel it then. It was a strange sensation, really. He didn’t know you. His mind couldn’t produce any memories of you, but the thought of something happening to you, of something having happened to you, made him worry. He felt protective of you and you weren’t more than a stranger to him right now.

“I say all this to say, Bradley, that if the roles were reversed, if I were the one in that hospital bed, I know exactly where you’d be, too. Because you have been. It doesn’t matter how big or small. I know you don’t remember but…that’s…that’s who we are, okay? There’s nowhere else I’d have been but right here by your side.”

Your words hit him harder than he expected them to. He didn’t really know how to respond. He couldn’t make sense of all of this.

“I think I want you to stay,” he whispered, almost afraid of the words.

This time, you didn’t stop yourself from reaching out to him. You settled your hand over his and squeezed gently. And though you didn’t let your touch remain for more than a moment, the brief interaction spread warmth through the area.

“Get some rest, sweetheart. We’ll talk more tomorrow.”

-------------

Part Two :: Series Masterlist :: Main Masterlist

Notes: Thank you for reading! Your feedback is so important to me. Please let me know your thoughts and if you're interested in more of this being posted :)

#bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x oc #bradley bradshaw imagine #rooster x reader #rooster fanfic #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw #tgm fanfiction #top gun fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #alli writes

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warning-heckboop · 4 days

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I really love your changeling dev au 🤌✨️, i was thinking does this make dev the youngest in fairy world ? then that means there is a fairy who accidently had a baby but beacuse of da rules, it cause them to give it to dale as a gift? Im sorry don't know how the gifting works 😅

Okay, first off. Apologies for the late reply. Writing the fic on top of work and other plans took a lot out of me.

On to the actual question! To be honest, I hadn't actually thought too much about Dev's origins regarding who his actual fairy parent(s) would be. So let's brainstorm now, shall we? I'll be putting this under read more, because it got kind of long :')

Full disclosure, I never watched the entirety of the original FOP, especially after Poof/Peri was born, so I don't have a full grasp on the canon lore. I know before Peri, fairy babies were against the rules for thousands and thousands of years, but I guess I kind of assumed that after the dam was broken, they just kind of let fairies have babies whenever they wanted again--especially considering there's a "fairy shortage" in the later episodes (that's my understanding, at least, from what I've read. Again, I've never watched the later episodes, especially not the really later ones with Chloe). Even if this wasn't necessarily canon, I consider it canon in my head, especially since I like seeing people's OCs who are younger fairies born after Peri! Just gives more possibility for world building, I guess.

Regardless of the above, however, I think I'm leaning towards going more the route of Dev being an especially unique case. As I mentioned in my previous posts, Dev was given to Dale as a sort of compensation for Dale's lost childhood, where a fairy could have intervened and helped him escape Vicky's wrath, but he was just somehow overlooked. As I mentioned as well, I see this as a sort of cover-up that would have been handled very high-up in the fairy hierarchy, possibly by the Fairy Counsel themselves. Not only is giving a human a Changeling Baby an outdated and frowned upon practice that they want to limit the number of fairies knowing about, but I also think they'd just want to hide the fact that they so largely failed Dale (and the other children who worked with him) to begin with. They can't let the populous know that their all-powerful and all-knowing leaders screwed up like that, so instead they'd rather just pay off those affected in secret, and pretend like it never happened.

(Does this imply that there might be more changeling kiddos out there that were given to the other kids who suffered under Vicky alongside Dale? Maybe. I'm probably not going to ever expand upon that myself, but if that piques anyone's interest, feel free to build on it yourself!)

Based on this line of thought, I don't see this as a scenario where Dev was born first and then they decided to give him to Dale afterwards. I think Dev would have been created specifically for Dale. We've seen that fairies can reproduce like humans do through birth, obviously, but since they are magical creatures, who's to say there aren't other methods of creating more of their kind?

A fairy's human form appearance isn't completely detached from their natural form appearance (based on my own headcanons which are based on those created by @bunnieswithknives, who originated the 'natural form' concept I'm using in this au, for context), so in this case, in order to create a child that the world and probably even Dale would truly believe is his own flesh and blood, they'd have to create a fairy who would have traits that resemble Dale's. Maybe it was even a process of using magic combined with something of Dale's, like a lock of hair or something like that, to create a fairy child that to some extent really is related to Dale, although less in a "biological child" sort of way and more in a "slightly-modified-by-magic clone" sort of way.

I guess that's all just a really long-winded way to say: I don't think Dev has fairy parents! He's just a product of magic, and the closest thing he'll ever really have to a technical parent would, in fact, be Dale. I hope that's not a disappointing answer, haha.

#fop #fopanw #fop a new wish #fop dev #fop dale #dev dimmadome #dale dimmadome #gifted au #fairly oddparents #failry oddparents a new wish #a new wish #asks #Always open to consider ideas if anyone has their own thoughts!

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mint-yooxgi · 9 months

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{4} - Fight or Flight - Yandere!Redcap!Mingi X Tall!Chubby!Reader

Fae!AU & Yandere!AU - Part of the CoDN Thrill of the Hunt Collab

Genre: Fantasy, Mature, Horror, Angst, Fluff, Smut

Pairing: Mingi X Reader

Words: 8,188

Rating: Mature - 18+ MDNI

Warnings: Please read the warnings carefully, as this is a very heavy story dealing with many dark topics. This is also all of the warnings for this fic as it is one long one shot that I had to split into multiple parts, and I'm too tired right now to individually categorize all of these warnings to their respective parts. 8 ft tall Mingi. Slow burn. Violence: depiction of a massacre, a deer being slaughtered, as well as physical, verbal, sexual, and emotional, both alluded to and not. Blood and gore. Abuse: physical, emotional, verbal, and sexual, both alluded to and implied. Assault: physical, and sexual, both alluded to, implied, and attempted. OC has a really rough past, really this isn't for the faint of heart. Whipping, both alluded to, and done. Mentions of branding. Heavy themes of possession and ownership. Deception. Arson. Really, there's a lot of dark subject matter. Mingi falls hard and fast, thus, he simps a lot for the OC, but it's not a story written by me if Mingi doesn't simp for the OC. The reader is mentioned to be both tall and chubby, but it is not mentioned often, so it shouldn't disrupt the flow of the story when ready if you are not tall and/or chubby. I think that's everything, but if I missed something, please let me know! Smut: Biting/marking, outdoor sex, fingering (fem. rec), oral (fem. rec), hand job (male rec), come eating, overstimulation, Mingi has a dig bick, sex in a spring, really, it's very soft in comparison to the subject matter. This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

P.S. If there are any spelling or grammatical errors, please ignore them. I did my best through many rounds of editing, but some are liable to still slip through.

A/n: I am SO sorry this took me LITERALLY forever to complete. I meant to have this out so much earlier, and actually posted on time, but it turned out much, much longer than I ever anticipated it being. I'm really proud of how this story turned out, and I didn't want to split it into multiple parts because I felt it would take away from the story as a whole. I'm super excited for you all to read this one, as I had a tremendous amount of fun writing it, and I really hope you all love Mingi's and OC's journey as much as I do. Huge shoutout and thanks to @anyamaris and @kwanisms for listening to me ramble and rave about this story both before and during the writing process, and for always encouraging me while writing! Also, huge thank you to @sanjoongie for being so patient and understanding with me as I write this all out in full. I hope you all enjoy! As always feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy!~

Summary: Out of one horrible situation and into another, the cycle of abuse never stops. You've lived with monsters your whole life. So, what's one more?

P.P.S. Please don't let this flop guys. If you enjoyed it, please reblog!!!

Mini Masterlist - Part One - Part Two - Part Three

For the whole night, Mingi holds you in his arms. You manage to pass out sometime within the same hour it took for you to finally calm down, and Mingi cannot help but hold you tighter.

His gaze lingers on your features, taking note of every dip and curve of your face as you rest in his arms. He studies the slope of your nose, the softness of your cheek as your eyes dance behind your eyelids throughout the night. He keeps his one hand resting over your own over your stomach, noticing how your body relaxes the longer he soothes you.

Not once does Mingi dare move. He doesn’t want to disturb you, and besides, you’ve been through a lot this evening. Letting you rest is his top priority. Getting to feel your body wrapped around his own is simply a bonus. One that he never knew he wanted until the very first touch.

It’s odd to him, how one so different from him can open up a whole new world he never knew possible. There is something deep within him that revels at having you near, a feeling that settles deep within his bones and tells him that being with you like this is right. A side within him arguing against everything he once knew and felt towards your kind, urging him to accept his basic instincts and always protect you.

He’s starting to care, and he doesn’t know whether that fact thrills, or terrifies him. All he does know is that he will keep you safe, no matter the cost.

Gently, Mingi lifts the hand he had resting over your stomach to your face. Tentatively, his fingers trace over the skin of your cheek, shifting to caress you softly in the palm of his hand.

Almost instantly, you lean into his touch.

His breath hitches, and his heart begins to pound within his chest. He’s never felt this way before. About anyone, or anything. You make something within him come alive, and he actively enjoys spending time with you. Seeing you scared, knowing you’re in pain, only serves to make his instincts go into overdrive.

You are as delicate as that flower you clutch so dearly in your hand. A blossom which Mingi will help flourish, nourishing you until he can see you fully bloom into the person you are meant to be.

He will keep you safe. He will see you smile, and make you laugh. He will do all these things and more, and he will do them to ensure your happiness.

Mingi may know nothing about your past, but he guarantees your future will be a bright one. He will make it so, even if it’s the last thing that he ever does.

***

Morning comes. The light of the sun creeps through the window, and casts a warm glow throughout the room. Faintly, birds can be heard chirping in the distance, and their tender song is what begins to rouse you from your slumber.

Groggily, you blink your eyes open. You can tell your face is a bit swollen from all the crying you did last night, and as you lift your hands to your cheek, you realize two things.

One: you fell asleep while held in that redcap’s arms last night. You currently do not know where he is, for he doesn’t occupy the bed beside yours, nor is he in your immediate line of sight. You also do not know how long he decided to comfort you, but from the way your heart feels, you do not care.

You actually got a decent rest last night, slumbering straight through until morning without a single night terror. For that, you are grateful, albeit surprised.

Two: you are currently laying down. A soft blanket is wrapped over your figure, and your body no longer aches. You seem to be resting on your side, facing the bedside table, a pillow tucked carefully beneath your head.

Resting upon the top of the table beside you is a fresh glass of water. You can see the condensation forming on the glass, informing you that the water is cool, and hasn’t been there for long. Though, that’s not what shocks you the most.

A single stem of red spider lilies lays beside the glass of water. The flower is in full bloom; vibrant and healthy. From the faint scent you can smell drifting through the air, you can tell that this plant has just been picked, too.

Your heart warms, and you cannot help the way you immediately reach for that flower. Very carefully, and with that stem held in your hand, you sit up in bed, noticing how your stomach doesn’t seem to ache anymore in the spot where that fae had been digging his knee into you.

Leaning against the headboard, you stare down at that flower held in your hand. Softly, you begin twirling the stem between your fingers, the faintest of smiles causing the corner of your lips to tug upwards. It’s been a long time since you felt this rested, this at peace.

Maybe you are dead, after all.

A figure out of the corner of your eyes startles you, and you drop the flower in surprise. It lands softly on your lap, a bright red to contrast the light brown sheets.

Standing near the end of your bed with a neutral expression on his face is that redcap, his eyes locked on your figure. You swear you imagine it, but for a brief second, you thought you saw the corners of his lips quirked upwards softly while looking at you.

“Good morning.” The low timbre of his voice fills the room. For some reason unknown to you, it wraps itself like a blanket around your figure, warming you from the inside out.

Your eyes dart from his face to the flower in your lap, then back again. Words get caught in your throat, and you find yourself unable to speak for the moment, opting to incline your head slightly.

Why is it that you suddenly feel shy around him? Did he actually do something for you, or are you simply imagining things while in a state of delirium?

“You should eat something.” He keeps his tone soft, motioning to the bedside table with his chin.

Turning your head, you notice a small tray of food resting just behind the glass of water. From the angle you had while you had been laying down, it made it difficult to see.

You nod, fingers fiddling with that stem in your lap as you avert your gaze downwards. It is then that you realize that your wrists are also no longer hurting, nor are they swollen. The fae must have healed you overnight, just as he’s always been doing.

A small silence passes between the both of you, and you notice how he doesn’t move a single inch from his spot. Although he keeps his gaze fixed on you, it’s not uncomfortable in the slightest. In fact, it’s probably the softest look you’ve ever felt him give you since you’ve met. A look you have never experienced before, but the longer he stares at you, the longer you wish to bathe in the warmth this new feeling provides.

You don’t know why, but you want him to keep looking at you like that. To always look at you like that.

You swallow lightly, lips parting as you take a small breath in. The dryness in your throat prevents you from speaking the words you wish to say.

“Here,” Slowly, he crosses the short distance to the bedside table, grabbing the glass of water in his hand. “Drink this.”

Every movement he makes is careful, so as not to frighten you. A fact which you appreciate more than even you realize at the moment.

Reaching your hand out, you take the glass from him. Lightly, your fingers brush over his own, and neither of you can prevent the way you both react to the other’s touch.

His breath hitches ever so slightly, but it’s so faint that you swear you imagine it.

You, on the other hand, swallow once more, a light shiver caressing your spine.

Neither of you comment on the other’s reaction, and for that, you’re both grateful. You’re not ready to acknowledge the sudden shift between you, certain that this is really only a temporary thing. The rug has been pulled out from under your feet too many times before, and you’d rather be prepared for the sudden shift in gravity than fall flat on your face again.

Bringing the glass to your lips, you take a sip of water. You don’t realize just how dehydrated you are until the first drop hits your tongue, downing the glass almost instantly. Once empty, you go to place the glass back onto the table, only for a gentle hand to reach out and prevent you from doing so.

Blinking your gaze upwards, you see the fae leaning forward lightly. A pitcher of water is in his one hand as he uses the other to steady your own. Without a word, or waiting for a response, he fills your glass once more.

Gently, he pulls away from you. Intently, you watch him place the pitcher onto the bedside table, shifting backwards soon after to sit on the bed across from your own.

You take another sip of water, letting a comfortable silence fill the room. Your back still rests against the headboard as you sit upon the mattress, gaze falling to your lap. In one hand, that glass rests, fingers curled around it as the crisp coolness of the water seeps into your palm. In your other hand, you hold that stem of red spider lilies, twirling the bloom softly between your fingers.

Your expression is the most relaxed it’s been in a long time, and for once your body doesn’t ache in pain. Breathing is the easiest it’s ever been for the moment, and filling your lungs feels refreshing for a change, rather than a chore. Your lips part slightly, and your tongue darts out to wet them.

You hesitate, before taking a deep breath in to steady your nerves.

“Thank you.” The admission is barely above a whisper, but from the way the fae seems to stop breathing across from you, you know that he’s heard you loud and clear. “General-“

“Mingi.” His tone is firm, but more so in an eager way than demanding.

Your gaze darts up in surprise to meet his own, and you notice him clear his throat. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, the faintest hue of pink dusting his cheeks as he averts his gaze to the side.

You didn’t realize fae could feel something as trivial as embarrassment.

Not even a moment later, his once sharp eyes are drifting back to your own with the softest look resting on his features. You’ve never experienced anyone look at you in such a way before, and to say it makes your heart race would be a complete understatement.

Please, don’t let it be a dream. Don’t let it be a cruel trick you have become so used to. This feeling may be foreign, and terrifying in it’s own right, but the possibilities the outcome holds has you looking towards the future with hope for once.

“I wish for you to call me Mingi.” He breathes, his hands gripping lightly at the edge of the mattress he sits on.

It’s faint, but you cannot help the way your breath catches in your throat. Your gaze softens as you stare at the fae before you, heart swelling inside of your chest. You doubt this is his true name, but the fact that he trusts you enough to share such a part of himself with you has you feeling a certain type of way. A certain type of happy way.

A soft incline of your head is the first response he gets. The second is a slight upturn of your lips, and you’re certain he can hear the way your heart is thundering away erratically inside of your chest.

“Alright.” Your reply is gentle as you hum. “Thank you, Mingi.”

Such a tender, almost giddy smile, pulls at his lips. Even the corners of his eyes crinkle slightly, and you are suddenly taken by the beauty of this creature in front of you. Gone is the brute of a fae you met only a short while ago, and instead, in his place, is an oversized kitten parading around as a lion. Yet, you know that that beast still lingers just beneath the surface, ready and willing to strike at a moment’s notice.

Slowly, tentatively, you tell him your own name. A name no one has called you in years.

If you thought his smile was vibrant before, the second your name slips passed your lips his smile becomes downright blinding.

There’s something about the way he repeats your name slowly, as if testing the weight of it on his tongue to ensure he gets it right ever time, that has another warmth blooming in your chest. There is no malice in the way he grins at you once he’s perfected the way your name falls from his lips, and you find you can only smile faintly at him in response. A fact of which that only serves to make him more giddy.

“You should eat.” He repeats his words from earlier as he stands back to his feet. “Regain your strength for when we set out once more.”

You nod in response, reaching over to place the glass of water back onto the bedside table. Once your hand is free, you carefully slide the tray of food towards you, lifting it onto your lap to begin eating.

“Take your time,” he says casually over his shoulder. “We leave once you’re ready.”

Again, you simply nod in response.

There’s a sense of calm that hasn’t left you since you woke up, and the longer the morning lasts, the more you settle into this new feeling. You know you probably shouldn’t let yourself get too comfortable. The wool’s been pulled over your eyes too many times to count. However, there’s something about this fae - Mingi - that urges you to trust him.

After all, no one else has ever come to your rescue like he did last night.

Glancing down at that stem of spider lilies resting in your one hand, you cannot help the small smile that graces your features once more. It surprises you, because for a time, you thought that you may have forgotten just how to do such a simple thing. Yet, with this redcap, you seem to be relearning how to live again.

A girl that you haven’t seen in years, that you could no longer recognize in the mirror, is finally becoming the woman she has always been meant to be.

***

An hour or so later, and you begin to make your way back down to the main area of the tavern. Mingi said he would meet you downstairs to let you finish getting ready for the day. He told you not to rush, but you know not to keep him waiting. Besides, it’s not like you want to, anyways.

The tavern is much quieter than last night, with far less patrons. Only a few fae can be seen sitting around the space as you walk out onto the main floor, but that doesn’t mean their eyes still aren’t locked on you as soon as you appear.

More whispers about a supposed missing claim mark reach your ears, but you ignore them for now. You purse your lips slightly, saying nothing. Not when you see Mingi seemingly arguing with the owner of the tavern off to your left.

“Then, where the fuck did they get the ward key in the first place?” The redcap’s sharp tone is kept low, yet deadly all the same.

“I didn’t give them the key, if that’s what you’re implying.” The owner frowns, standing his ground. “If you’re that concerned about a human, don’t bring them into a den full of unknown fae. You, of all creatures, should understand.”

Mingi scowls, nearly reaching across the counter to scruff the fae’s shirt. His eyes glance over to you briefly, and you notice the way he stops himself, his hands clenching into fists at his sides.

“You have to activate the wards before a key can be used, do you not?” He hisses, irritation marring his brow.

“I must have forgotten to deactivate it when it was returned the last time.” The tavern owner replies without missing a beat. “If it’s taken from the return counter, I cannot prevent that.”

“You let them take the key off the counter?” Mingi’s voice booms across the tavern, and all heads turn to look at the both of you.

“Watch your tone.” The owner snaps, eyes suddenly sharp. “Don’t forget, you’re a guest here.”

“Fine.” Mingi lets out a sharp, exasperated huff.

Without another word, Mingi turns around to face you. Your eyes go wide as he places a hand onto your shoulder, turning you towards the exit. Though his body is tense, his touch is surprisingly gentle as he leads you out of the tavern and towards the edge of the forest, muttering under his breath.

“Stupid fucking creature left the key on the counter for them to take,” his voice is but a growl upon his lips, the stomping of his feet drawing attention from the few townsfolk outside enjoying the early morning air.

Your eyes dart every which way, glad that none of the other fae seem to be following after such an annoyed redcap. Of course, given the circumstances, you’re grateful. However, a chill still caresses your spine.

No one would have come to your aid should Mingi choose to take his annoyance out on you. Nor do they seem concerned that you do not belong with him, being a human and all. You’re in above your head, or at least, you would be, if you were in any immediate danger.

Walking through the woods, you remain silent for the time being. Given the morning you’ve had, you do not wish to upset the balance and make Mingi actually turn his anger towards you. You know he cannot lie, so his statement to protect you should hold true. However, you do not know how long that truth will last, or what might accidentally set him off.

This is completely new territory for you, and it both excites and terrifies you to no end. Someone felt that your life was worth saving, and not out of necessity.

It shouldn’t, but that means something to you. It means everything to you.

Passing by the stream you took that fateful bath in with Windfel as your ‘guard’ takes no time at all. In fact, you barely notice when you do, too caught up in your own mind for the moment. Still, there’s that familiar call from the water, beckoning you back towards its crisp coolness. A call which you rightfully ignore, just like the first time it sung to you.

You don’t have time for that, nor is bathing an option right now. Thus, you resist the streams’ call for another day.

Soon, hours pass with you traversing through the woods. No longer are you forced to follow after the redcap general. Instead, Mingi makes sure to walk right beside you. The only time he seems to speak is to alert you of a sudden root or rock in your path, or to let you know the direction you’ll be headed in.

Sometime later, and after he’s completely calmed down, you notice his arm starting to brush against your own. It’s gentle, and it could easily be passed off as his walking pattern, but after the third time he does it, you realize that maybe, just maybe, he wants to touch you.

His eyes are slightly out of focus, and you believe him to be walking purely on muscle memory alone. He must know the path to this keep of his like the back of his hand, for he doesn’t even blink when he steps over a few large roots you don’t even think he noticed.

“You’re lucky to be alive.” Mingi’s voice cutting through the silence of the woods has your eyes immediately darting over to him.

“So, you’ve said.” You reply lightly, cautiously.

This must be what’s on his mind. Hopefully, he’s not about to turn him saving you into a lecture about being in his debt. You’ve heard that one too many times to count.

“The stream you bathed in,” he begins, sparing a glance at you out of the corner of his vision as you walk beside him. “It should have killed you the minute you entered its waters.”

You breath catches in your throat, and you nearly trip over your own two feet.

“Well, that’s reassuring,” you exhale a long breath through your nose, frowning slightly.

Is that why Windfel…? No. It can’t be…

“I don’t know what drove you to dive into its waters, but the wild stream is enchanted so that once you enter, you can never leave.” He explains, keeping his head forward, gaze fixed on the path before your feet. “Or, well, it’s supposed to be."

“Windfel told me to bathe.” Comes your reply, staring down at the ground nervously. “He said I stunk.”

“Ah, so he pulled you out.” Mingi hums, as if the answer has suddenly been revealed to him.

“No, I got in and out myself.”

“That’s impossible.” Mingi frowns, turning to glance at you walking beside him. “The stream coaxes you into a sense of bliss, and the waters pull you deeper into its current the moment you set foot in it.”

“Well, I did hear a small voice encouraging me to stay.” You tilt your head slightly, almost in recollection.

“Yet, you still managed to pull yourself out?” Mingi asks, slight disbelief clinging to the edge of his words.

“We had to get back to camp,” you shrug, shoulders suddenly curling in on yourself. “There were things to be done.”

Almost immediately, Mingi stops walking. When he notices you get a few paces ahead, his hand reaches out to halt you in your tracks. Turning you to face him, you notice worry lining his brow.

“You escaped the waters of the wild stream because you felt a sense of duty?”

You purse your lips, eyes flitting everywhere around the area except to Mingi’s own.

“It’s not like that…”

“Then, how did you manage to escape Windfel?” He questions, both his hands resting on top of your shoulders now.

“I didn’t.” Comes your blunt reply, blinking up at the redcap before you.

You can feel your heart rate accelerate at the look in his eyes, fingers picking nervously at the end of your shirt. You know you should meet his gaze, it’s been drilled into since who knows when, but you fear the monster you’ll see looking back at you if you do.

“What do you mean you didn’t escape Windfel?” Mingi’s fingers tighten ever so slightly over your shoulders, frown marring his features. “It’s not like he would have just let you go.”

You say nothing, opting to purse your lips in response. You can feel your heart pounding inside of your chest as you continue to avert your gaze to the side. Given the way he’s currently reacting, you doubt he’d believe you anyways. Even if you tried.

Softly, he calls you name. His one hand gently cups you beneath your chin, turning your head to meet his gaze as he searches your own.

“If you believe I will get upset with you for telling me what happened, I will not.” His words are calm, yet firm, and there’s a certain look residing in his sharp eyes that makes you believe him.

So, you take a deep breath in.

“He told me to go survive on my own. That’s all.” Your body is tense beneath his hold as you tentatively brush his hands off of your shoulders.

He lets you.

Mingi purses his lips, clearly not satisfied with your answer. Only, despite the way you can visibly see his jaw twitch, he doesn’t push you.

“Come on,” he sighs, turning back to face the direction in which you’re travelling in. “There’s still a long ways to go.”

***

Two more days pass by like this, with you walking side by side with Mingi as you make the long trek back to his home. He’s a little more talkative than you’re used to, but not by much. He seems to be respecting your boundaries, for the most part. He doesn’t push you to answer him, nor is he as forceful with you as he was during the first few days you spent together.

Ever since that incident in the tavern, he’s been… nice. Well, as nice as a fae can be, all things considered.

In the evenings, when the sun begins to set and he notices your limp becoming more prominent, he purposely makes you stop to rest. He brings you food, and water, and if you get cold, he always makes sure to build a fire. He even goes so far as to sit near you, or against the tree beside your own, always making sure he’s close by in case you should need him.

The odd time, you even catch him glancing your way. Usually, he wears an unreadable expression on his features, but every so often, you catch that same soft look residing in his eyes as you did the morning you woke up in that tavern. It’s happened too often for you to just be imagining it anymore, and given the sudden way he’s been treating you, you find yourself relaxing more and more around him every day.

It’s beginning to look less and less like a false sense of security, and more and more like a genuine connection. Something which, now that you think about, you’ve never experienced before in your life.

The third day passes with no major events, but during the morning of the fourth, Mingi wakes you just before the sun rises.

“Come with me,” he says gently, keeping his voice low so as not to startle you from slumber. “There’s something I wish to show you.”

Mingi leads you up and around a small nearby hill, a beautiful pond stretching out before you. The water is as still as glass, and just as clear. You can see some wildlife faintly grazing around the edges, fish swimming beneath the surface of the pond. It makes you smile.

A few mountains can be seen rising in the distance, and the first rays of the morning sun begin to peek through their valleys. The tops of the surrounding trees begin to glow, the mist from the mountains rolling over the hills. Faintly, you can even hear birds beginning to sing their morning songs.

A small gasp of wonder escapes you as you see vibrant shades of pink, red, orange, and yellow light up the sky before you. The sun crests between the centre of the mountains, and you cannot help but to stare in awe at the beautiful sunrise spread out before your very eyes.

Blinking a few times, you can feel the familiar sting of tears beginning to line your vision. No one has ever done something like this for you, let alone shared in such a wonderful sight.

Standing here, you feel as if the whole world is spread out before you. A feeling you have never gotten to experience. Right now, you could be anything, do anything, or maybe even go anywhere.

For the first time in your life, you know what it feels like to be free.

Turning your head, you glance upwards to see Mingi already staring down at you. The same soft look rests on his features, his lips tugging upwards tenderly in a faint smile. His eyes shine with something you do not quite understand, but at the way the sunlight bathes his features in gold, you cannot help but feel that you do.

The hand you feel him place onto your back, right between your shoulder blades, is hesitant. Almost as if he expects you to pull away from him at any given moment. The fact that his touch is always so gentle now only makes your skin tingle pleasantly. For some reason, you just know that he’s also giving you the opportunity to pull away if need be.

Always, now, it is your choice. A choice you’ve never had in the past, nor ever been given the opportunity to take, even if you wanted to.

You swallow the sudden dryness in your throat, the tears that have welled in your eyes finally spilling over onto your cheeks. Though, for the first time in a long time, they aren’t out of pain or sadness.

No, grief does not cling to your lashes this time. This time, only a seed of joy can be felt, feeling it cultivate within your chest and beginning to grow outwards until it reaches the very tips of your fingers. A seed of which is beginning to bloom, and all because of him.

Movement catches your attention, and you look down to see a fresh stem of red spider lilies held between the tips of his fingers. The old stem had started to wilt, the flowers dying as their petals fell from the once vibrant flowers given to you that morning at the tavern.

It is then that you realize that he was the one who gifted you that fresh stem all those mornings ago.

You cannot help it. Your heart skips a beat inside of your chest.

“Is this-“ you swallow the emotions building within your throat. “Is this for me?”

Mingi smiles softly, inclining his head gently as he holds the flower out to you.

Carefully, you reach out and take that brilliant flower from his hand. Your fingers curl around the stem, more tears falling over your cheeks as you hold it tightly against your chest, pressing it directly over your heart.

Pursing your lips to keep your chin from wobbling, you squeeze your eyes shut.

It’s real. This is real. You are choosing to believe that what is happening right now is all real. What’s even better is that it is for you. It’s all for you.

At the soft touch you feel caress your cheek, you know that you’ve made the right decision. The decision to believe, even if you’re still terrified of what it means to take that leap.

Blinking your eyes open, you glance upwards to see Mingi already staring down at you with the most tender look you’ve ever received from anybody resting on his features. You can feel his thumb gently stroking over the skin of your cheek, wiping at the trail of your tears in the process.

Slowly, and ever so gently, he pulls you in closer.

“I want to see you thrive,” his voice is barely above a whisper, but you still hear him loud and clear within the silence that the morning brings.

It’s as if the whole world has gone still around you, and all you can see in this moment is him.

“I want to nurture you, and make you the happiest you’ve ever been.” His gaze never leaves your own as he tilts your head upwards slightly. “You have the most captivating smile, and I wish to see it more often.”

Your lips part in a silent gasp, heart pounding erratically inside of your chest.

“I wish to be the cause of it, of your laughter, your joy,” he leans in closer, his eyes hooding over as he darts his gaze down to your lips. “For you, there is nothing I wouldn’t do.”

There’s a slight hitch to your breath as your free hand comes up to rest against his chest. You swear you feel a slight rumble beneath your fingertips in contentment, too.

Again, his gaze flits down to your lips, and your hand tightens over his shirt. You swallow the sudden dryness in your throat, clinging to him as he continues to hold you so tenderly in the palm of his hand.

“More than all of that, though,” he breathes, and you can feel the warmth of his body against your own, “I wish to see you bloom.”

The second those words escape him, he’s pressing his lips to your own. His one hand cups your face so gingerly, pulling you in even closer as his opposite arm wraps fully around your waist. You can feel his chest rumble beneath your fingers once more, and this time, there’s no denying the pleased growl that escapes him.

Your eyes flutter closed in bliss, breath catching as you hear his growl of content surround you. The kiss is sudden, but welcome, nonetheless, and you cannot help but lean into him slightly.

All too soon, he pulls away, resting his forehead against your own. The light of the morning sun surrounds you both, and only serves to make the other glow beneath the golden hue of the surrounding hills. A warmth that covers you both as you stare into each other’s eyes.

“I have grown to care for you, My Blossom,” his gaze holds nothing but tender fondness as he says this, his thumb gently stroking over the skin of your cheek. “I only hope you will grow to care for me, too.”

The hand you have resting on his chest slides upwards, carefully cupping the side of his face in your palm. You notice his eyes flutter shut almost immediately, leaning into your tentative touch.

“I know it won’t be easy,” he keeps his voice low as he revels in your touch, “but I will always keep you safe. Nothing will hurt you while I am here to protect you.”

Mingi blinks his eyes open, shifting the hand he had splayed over your back to rest over your own over his cheek. His dark eyes glint in the light of the morning sun, full of promise and hope.

A look you’ve only ever dreamed of being on the receiving end of one day.

“Mingi,” the way you breathe out his name has his eyes fluttering closed in bliss once more. “I- I-“ you swallow the lump in your throat, “I think I’m starting to care for you, too.”

Your words have a brilliant smile tugging at his features. His eyes crinkle at the sides, and he stands back to his full height. Softly, he squeezes your hand in his own, intertwining your fingers together as he begins to lead you through the woods for the day.

“That’s good enough for me,” he hums, lightly swinging your hands back and forth between you. “The fact that you can come to care for a monster like me makes me the happiest creature in the world.”

Suddenly, you stop in your tracks, and Mingi turns to look at you with a furrowed brow.

“You are not a monster, Mingi.” Your voice is firm, albeit a little pained.

The furrow in his brow deepens, and he begins to speak, only for you to cut him off.

“I have lived with monsters my whole life, and you are the furthest thing from being one of them.”

The air around you goes still with tension, and you notice how dark the sudden look in Mingi’s eyes is. Not even the birds dare to speak as the sun dulls behind the canopy of trees.

“Who hurt you?” The words are but a low growl on his lips, his hand tightening subconsciously over your own.

You go to pull away, but Mingi tugs you back to him in an instant.

“Who. Hurt. You?” This time, he emphasizes each word carefully.

His gaze is sharp, and he can barely control his breathing. Lips are pulled back over sharp teeth, and his claws threaten to unsheathe any second at the anger building within. Again, his hand tightens over your own and you end up crying out in pain, pulling yourself out of his grip as he recoils from the sound.

Remorse paints his features, but there is no hiding how dark his eyes still are. He attempts to step towards you, wanting to make sure that you’re okay, but you take a step back. The smell of fear fills the air, but not just any fear.

Your fear.

Mingi’s expression falls. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

You say nothing in response, cradling your hand protectively to your chest. That sprig of flowers acts like a beacon, and Mingi is suddenly hit with the memory of how he first found you leaning against that tree all those days ago.

He inhales sharply.

“Please,” his dark eyes are pained, and he reaches for you once more. “Forgive me. I do not know what came over me.”

You blink rapidly, reaching your hands up to rub at your eyes.

Lightly, you shake your head, taking a deep breath to calm your nerves. “That you could get angry for me, not even knowing what’s happened…”

“Much as I would like to know, I will not pry.” He replies, suddenly appearing much more calm than he was mere moments ago. “Know that I will always get upset at the thought of someone hurting you. It is in my nature to want to protect the things I care about. It will… take some getting used to to remind myself to control my strength around you, as well.”

Averting your gaze to the ground, a small warmth begins to bloom in your chest. The fact that he seems so earnest in his explanation has a tension releasing from your shoulders that you didn’t realize you had been holding onto. He is fae, after all. You know he is much stronger than you, and from what you’ve gathered, hasn’t been around humans all that often.

As terrifying as it is to admit, you trust him. He’s done nothing to deceive you from the start, and if his words are anything to go by, he never will.

Tentatively, he offers you his hand. “Shall we?”

Your eyes flit from his face to his open palm, taking a cautious step towards him. Not even a moment later, you place your hand softly in his own, and he laces your fingers together without a second thought. Though, this time, it feels as if he’s holding onto you even more carefully than before. A fact which both surprises and elates you at the same time.

“I didn’t know you could be this gentle.” The corners of your lips twitch upwards, admiring the warmth that radiates from his palm to yours.

“There are a lot of things you don’t know about me,” he hums, a slight grin tugging onto his features.

“As there are many things you do not know about me.” You agree lightly, trying, and failing, to hide your smile as he begins swinging your hands between the both of you again.

“And yet, I grow more curious about My Blossom every day,” he responds, his thumb beginning to rub softly over the back of your palm.

The heat that rises to your cheeks is involuntary, and you avert your gaze to the side shyly. Subconsciously, you squeeze his hand, and you hear him chuckle lowly in response.

“Well, then, General,” your voice is light, teasing. A tone you haven’t used with anyone in a long, long time. “What would you like to know?”

His grin widens, and he turns his head towards you.

“Tell me everything.”

For the entirety of the day, the two of you talk. Conversation flows easily, and you get to know each other better. He tells you more about the keep, and why he chose that place to live. In return, you tell him a little bit about your hometown. However, as you talk about the field of red spider lilies that used to reside about two miles away from your house, you cannot prevent the sad smile that pulls onto your lips.

“It burned.” You recall with an expression akin to longing on your features.

“Then, I shall plant you a new one when we get home.”

His reply shocks you, and you cannot prevent the way your eyes go wide in response. The way that he says this so casually, too, has your heart swelling inside of your chest.

Mingi then goes on to tell you a little bit about his childhood. It’s gruesome, and wild. Everything you would expect for a redcap raised in this realm. Though, what surprises you the most is when he goes into detail about his moral code.

No wonder he is the way he is, and if you’re being honest with yourself, you wouldn’t want him any other way. It’s unexpected, but if you had to get stuck with any type of fae in this realm, you’re glad you got stuck with him.

It’s about an hour before the sun is supposed to set that your limp starts to become prominent again. You notice the way Mingi’s brow furrows in discontent, his gaze fixated on your right foot as he helps you sit down against a tree.

“Blossom, why is it that you have a limp?” His question is soft, his hands holding yours gently in his as he kneels beside you on the ground.

You stiffen, breath catching in your throat. Memories which you haven’t thought about since they happened flood your mind, and your chest tightens. Your lungs begin to ache as filling them with air suddenly becomes difficult, nearly beginning to hyperventilate.

Out of the corner of your eyes, you see that same monster covered in blood. Only this time, he’s holding a shovel.

Taking a deep breath in to ground yourself, you remind yourself that you are safe. Mingi will protect you from the monsters hidden in plain sight. He promised.

You turn your gaze to meet his own, speaking softly, “That’s a story for another evening. Okay, Min?”

His eyebrows raise slightly, but he doesn’t press the matter. In fact, you believe he’s far too distracted by the name you’ve just called him, for you hear him let out a low giggle, his eyes crinkling in the corners as he smiles giddily.

“Wait right here,” he tells you as he stands back to his feet. “I’ll be back with some supplies in a little bit.”

“I can help, too,” you go to push yourself off of the ground and back to your feet.

“No.” Instantly, he’s crouched before you once more, hands placed gently on your shoulders to keep you seated in your spot. “You stay here and rest. Let me handle everything. I want to take care of you.”

“Okay,” you breathe out, looking up at him through your lashes.

You’ve never experienced this before. Always, it’s been you fending for yourself whenever you can. First came others, then if you had a rare moment to yourself, you would treat her to something. Though, as more and more time passed, those moments came few and far in-between, until even so much as thinking of doing something for yourself caused you to recoil back in horror.

“I’ll be back before you know it.” Mingi smiles in response, leaning in to press his lips to your forehead before standing back to his feet. “I promise.”

True to his word, Mingi isn’t gone for more than an hour. He brings back with him some food and fresh water, along with the materials to build a small fire. One which he sets up quickly after handing you the food he found.

Once the fire is lit, Mingi shifts to sit beside you against the trunk of the tree you’re resting on.

“I thought I told you to eat,” his voice is low, his arm brushing against your own as he settles deeper against the wood at your back.

“I wanted to wait for you.” Comes your soft reply, holding out some berries he had picked for the both of you in the palm of your hand.

Carefully, he plucks up a fruit in his fingers. Only, instead of bringing it to his lips, he holds it to your own. You meet his gaze, and he only smiles at you, pressing the berry a little firmer against your mouth.

“Eat.” His voice is firm in his command, yet still tender all the same. “I will not until you do."

Parting your lips, you allow him to feed you the berry. He places it ever so gently onto your tongue, his thumb tracing over your bottom lip as the dark juice smears against your skin.

The sweetness of the fruit explodes onto your tastebuds as you bite down, chewing softly. You swallow, maintaining eye contact with him the whole time. You can hear your heartbeat ringing in your ears, and an actual thrill of excitement shoots through you. Quite a new feeling that you wish to feel again, and again, and again. With him.

One that gives you the courage to dart your tongue out, swiping at the tip of his thumb.

Mingi’s lips part, his eyes hooding over as he stares down at the way your tongue darts out to brush against his thumb a second time. He nearly moans at the feeling, chest rumbling deeply in contentment as he reluctantly pulls his hand away from your mouth.

The last thing he wants is to not be able to control himself around you, and scare you aware. He’s already tasted your fear, and he never wants to experience that bitter, repulsive scent ever again. He’s had enough of it to last a lifetime already.

A small smile begins to pull at his features as he watches you take a berry into your free hand. He cannot prevent the way his heart swells as you bring the fruit up to his lips, which eagerly part for the offering you provide for him. His eyes shine with that familiar tenderness, gazing upon you as if you are the brightest star lighting up his night sky.

To him, you are.

Slowly, carefully, Mingi wraps an arm around your shoulders. He shifts the slightest bit closer to you, but even if he senses the mildest form of discomfort from you, he will move away. Luckily, he doesn’t have to worry for too long, for you shuffle closer to him, tucking yourself against his side as you lean your head onto his chest.

“Is this okay?” He asks softly, his hand settling against the side of your waist.

Gently, you nod your head.

“More than okay.” The words are but a low hum as they fall from your lips. “I don’t-“ You take a small breath in. “I don’t think I’ve ever been held like this before.”

A pleased rumble shakes his chest, and Mingi pulls you in slightly closer into his side.

“How happy I am, then, that we get to experience this together.”

The rest of the night is spent curled up in Mingi’s arms, of which he is more than happy to hold you in. You take turns feeding each other berries, along with the other fruit he’s gathered, and by the time the moon has risen high in the sky, you are fast asleep against his side.

Like that fateful night not quite yet a week ago, Mingi absolutely revels in the feeling of you in his arms. There is no greater feeling for him than your body pressed against his own, and the fact that he gets to take this time to admire you while you sleep causes his heart to swell inside of his chest.

You are so peaceful like this. So calm. You fit perfectly with him, and just like the first night he got to hold you while you slept, he traces each and every contour of your features. Everything he sees, he commits to memory, letting his gaze linger almost longingly on your lips as he recalls the feeling of them pressed against his own.

Mingi smiles, tracing a knuckle softly against your cheek. The way you still seem to lean into his touch, curling deeper against his side subconsciously, only makes his heart race. A pleasant tingle erupts beneath his skin wherever he feels you pressed against him, and all he wants is more.

There is nothing he wouldn’t do for you, and as Mingi rests with you beneath the light of the stars, he vows to himself to figure out who these monsters are that you spoke of earlier that day. Anybody who brings you pain, who makes or has made you suffer, does not deserve to live any longer. Not if he has anything to say about it.

He’ll show these monsters what a true beast looks like, all while proving that a real monster fights for you.

#thrill of the hunt #cultofdionysusnet #mfu-net #yandere mingi #yandere ateez #yandere kpop #mingi scenario #mingi imagine #ateez scenario #ateez imagine #kpop scenario #kpop imagine #kpop au #ateez au #fantasy au #fae au #chubby reader #tall reader

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rainba · 5 months

Note

Ok hear me out…

Luka and kairos with INSANE baby fever B)

Luka and Kairos both definitely experience baby fever, to some degree… It hits Luka harder than Kairos, but I like to think that Kairos’ side of things is much funnier.

I… Thiiiink I answered this ask right? ｡ﾟ(｡ﾉωヽ｡)ﾟ｡I hope I did!

This ended up being a lot fluffier than I thought it would be...

(Darling’s gender isn’t mentioned! Only mentions whether or not they can bear children. (つω`｡)

Kairos knows that he’s broke and definitely can’t afford to raise a kid– not yet, anyway! But once he continues building up his portfolio and raises his prices, he will eventually make a decent wage!

If darling is capable of having children, Kairos’ mind would basically become mushy as he imagines your all’s children together. Like… Whose eye color would they inherit? Would they be a boy or a girl? Ooh, would they take after him and also be an artist–!? There are so many possibilities to consider!

Kairos would absent-mindedly start drawing out what your all’s future children might look like. ^^;;;;

But also, most importantly: what would you all name your children?

Kairos would definitely come up with the edgiest, kind of corniest names ever. They sound more like OC names than anything, names like, “Twilight!” Or “Lucifer!” So, unless you also want to name your kids that, you’ll have to tell him that you don’t really like those. ^^;;;;;

If you’re a darling that can’t have kids, then Kairos would also be happy to adopt!! When he has baby fever, he’d get all excited about the idea of going out and going through the process of adoption with you. It’d be a long journey, but a journey he’s willing to take if it’s with you!

The most kids he would want/be able to handle is two, but he’ll ultimately let you decide how many kids you'll both have. (o^ ^o) Kairos would feel so nervous taking in someone of any age, but he’d still try his best!!

He’d absolutely be the pushover dad who just does whatever his partner wants him to.

｡ﾟ(｡ﾉωヽ｡)ﾟ｡

As for Luka, the insane baby fever really does hit him hard sometimes. Like– throughout his entire life, the idea of being a father has sounded nice to him. And the idea of raising a child with you makes his heart and mind feel all fuzzy.

As shown in a few posts of him before… He mostly gets that baby fever when he’s in heat. ^^;;;;;; The thought of having a family with you just sends him over the edge, and all he can think about is fucking you until his dream becomes a reality.

Honestly, I think that Luka would be a decent father. Overprotective? Absolutely. Overbearing? Sometimes, for sure. Cruel and abusive? Not a chance in hell. (ﾉ_ヽ)

If darling can get pregnant, and they do end up pregnant, there would be a few nights where Luka is unable to sleep at night, tossing and turning in bed as he constantly glances over at you. You’re lying there so peacefully, carrying his child… He’d lovingly place his soft ears against your stomach while caressing you gently. He can’t help but feel that he’s incredibly lucky to have you– the love of his life– his obsession- his everything. The first and only person to ever make him feel alive. ⸜( *ˊᵕˋ* )⸝ The two of you are truly bound together, forever. ღ

Luka would honestly end up falling asleep with his head on (or beside) your stomach, all curled up with his pink tail wrapped around you. (o´∀`o)

He knows that he can be, um… An asshole, to say the least. And that he’s not very good at understanding complex emotions. But when you have his child, he’ll do everything in his power to get better at being empathetic and patient, for the sake of you and your all's family. (｡╯︵╰｡)

(Luka wouldn't stop his games with you entirely, though. It's always gonna be in his nature to tease and mess with you (´-ω-`). )

When it comes to adoption, Luka would have absolutely no problems with adopting multiple kids. For him, his ideal family size is four children!! He would definitely be able to provide for all of them– although, he might end up stuck at work doing overtime more frequently. But doing more work doesn’t matter to him, so long as everyone is happy. (=`ω´=)

Also, side note, Luka would definitely want you to be a stay-at-home, full-time parent. ^^;;;;;; It’s a small fantasy of his to always come home from work and see you all happy and cozy, smiling warmly as you welcome him back. Maybe you’ll have a meal prepared for him, the house will be all tidied up and your all’s kids will be excited that he’s home from work.~

The holidays, the vacations, the good and bad days… (っ˘ω˘ς ) Luka would like to live that kind of life with you, one day, if you let him.

#ask #kairos posting #luka posting #the idea of kairos being a dad is so funny to me #also i used to never be that interested in fluff #but i think i get it now #( ´ ▿ ` )

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wintaerbaer · 10 months

Text

things we don't say: the before, drabble 1 (kth)

summary: After a night of drinking, you make some comments to Taehyung that makes him reconsider his relationship with you.

pairing: Taehyung x Reader

rating: sfw (for the drabble, series is 18+)

genres: best friends to lovers, fluff, angst

word count: 2.9k

warnings: alcohol use, unrequited love, jungkook isn't physically present in this one yet still manages to throw in some nonsense

a/n: this is the first drabble for my things we don't say series! shoutout to @btsborahaee for asking me if tae had ever taken care of oc while drunk and sparking this entire idea. not mandatory reading for the series per se, but definitely gives a lot of insight for some upcoming events <3 (can probably be read on its own for new folks, but you'll likely be missing some context)

SERIES MASTERLIST // MASTERLIST

He probably should’ve stopped you.

Should’ve stopped you when Jimin offered you tequila shots at the beginning of the night (he knows that you always complain about the crash).

Should’ve stopped you when Jungkook challenged you to a round of beer pong and you surprisingly agreed (Jungkook is an ace, and you’ve always been a lousy shot).

Definitely should’ve stopped you when your friends began a game of truth or dare, and you convinced him to play with puppy dog eyes and a pouty lower lip (you looked so cute that he pretended he would’ve been able to resist you in the first place just to see you keep making that face).

Still, he tries to remind himself that you’re a grown woman and can make your own decisions as he heaves you through the doorway into the three-bedroom apartment the two of you share with Jimin.

“Congratulations, you’ve successfully made it home,” he says, gingerly helping you settle into a spot on the couch. You immediately pull a throw pillow into your lap and hug it tight, slumping against the arm rest. “How are you feeling?”

“We live in a pool now,” you mumble, the pillow muffling your voice.

“What?”

“Everything swimming.”

He laughs, propping the other throw pillow against your side in a feeble attempt to ensure you stay upright before he heads to the kitchen to get you some water. “I know you may not believe me right now, but I can assure you we don’t live in a pool.”

“You can’t prove anything.” Your face has slipped further into the pillow. “I’m a scientist. I know things.”

“You’re majoring in Communications.”

“That’s a science.”

“A social science.”

“I say it counts, so it counts.”

“Well I won’t argue with that.” He makes his way back to you with quiet steps, crouching down so he’s at your eye level. “So, Miss Scientist--” A glass of water appears right in front of your nose. “—what does the science say about water intake after a long night of drinking?”

You giggle, pulling the glass from his hands so you can peer through it at him. “See? Pool.” He can’t hold back the grin that spreads across his face as he watches you snort-laugh over your own joke and cackle, “You’re a merman.”

“Yah,” he protests. “I don’t know that I’m pretty enough to be a merman. Mermen are pretty, yeah?”

And even louder snort. “Tae, you’re plenty pretty.”

His heart rebels with the tiniest pause. “Huh?”

“Plenty pretty. Also alliterative.” You burst out laughing at that one, rocking your body so suddenly that Taehyung worries you might spill your water. He reaches out to stabilize your hand, crushing down the teensy marble of hope that just plopped into his chest—a process that he’s well used to by now.

“You’re not seeing right or thinking right,” he says. “Just focus on drinking your water.”

One final giggle as you bring the glass to your lips, slurping loudly. “Chef Kim, you’ve done it again!” you declare, putting on a fake accent. “This is the finest glass of water I have ever had the pleasure of drinking! Three Michelin Stars!” Then you go back to slurping the water, two hands wrapped around the glass like a child.

Taehyung watches you tenderly, his right hand betraying him and drifting upwards to lightly skim your knee as you drink. Frankly, he’s just pleased that you’re managing to get it all in your mouth, and once you’ve swallowed the last drops (your head tilted all the way back), you gaze at him with hooded eyes.

“I sleepy.”

“I’m sure you are.” He takes the glass from your hands and sets it down on the coffee table before moving the pillows from your lap so he can help you up again, placing a steadying hand at your lower back. “Let’s get you to bed.”

He leads you to your bedroom where you immediately face plant onto the bed with a huff.

“Careful,” he warns. “Don’t want to jolt yourself and make yourself sick.”

“I do not fear vomit,” you say dramatically. “Only when it’s a stranger’s.” You pause to burp. “And only on Sundays.”

“Today is Sunday.”

You flip onto your back with a gasp. “SAY IT ISN’T SO.”

“It’s so.” He nods at you somberly, playing into the bit. “It’s past midnight, which means it is, in fact, Sunday.”

An arm is thrown across your eyes as you groan, "Oh noooooooo."

Taehyung chuckles to himself, rummaging through your dresser until he locates a pair of sleep shorts and a drawer full of t-shirts (he quickly closes another drawer when he catches a glimpse of panties). He picks through them, grinning at how many are souvenirs of events you've been to with him—concerts, festivals, and even a team shirt for a basketball game you'd accompanied him to freshman year. It'd been his idea, wanting to experience more of the city you'd moved to for school; you'd been skeptical at first but willing to go with him so he wasn't alone.

Two minutes in and your enthusiasm had quickly changed. Feeding off the energy of the crowd and the excitement of the game, you spent most of the time on your feet, bouncing up and down and cheering with every basket that was made. And though the game had been his idea, Taehyung found himself far less interested in what was happening on the court and instead spent the evening watching you, smiling from ear-to-ear every time you clapped your hands or yelled in delight. You’d pulled him by the hand to the team store afterwards, insistent on buying a shirt for your newfound team.

He grabs that shirt from the drawer and turns to find you lying in the same position on the bed, still as a stone. Your chest rises and falls with slow steady breaths, and he thinks you’ve fallen asleep at first until you peek an eye out at him as he sets the clothes down next to you on the bed.

“Think you can get dressed by yourself?”

You raise yourself onto your palms, throwing him what seems to be your best drunken attempt at a sultry look. “You don’t want to help me?”

Taehyung’s body goes into an instant panic, half of his blood rushing to his face and the other half seeking a straight path south. “You—I—uh—“ he stammers before you burst into hysterical laughter.

“I’m kidding!” you gasp, wrapping your arms around your middle and tilting sideways on the bed as you’re overcome with giggles. “You should see the look on your face!”

He feels the relief work through slowly, even as his heart continues to pound. “You really had a lot to drink tonight, huh?”

“Hmm, a lot,” you hiccup. “Not so much that I missed your look of horror when Kook dared us to kiss.”

It was during the game of truth or dare that you’d roped him into. Rather juvenile for a group of third-year college students, perhaps, but your group had gotten to the point of mindless drunken entertainment. On your turn, you’d asked for a dare, only for Jungkook to challenge you to make out with Taehyung for thirty seconds (“Minimum,” he’d added with a wiggle of his eyebrows). His blood pressure had spiked then too as he glared daggers at Jungkook, praying that you would refuse. It wasn’t that he was opposed to the concept of kissing you per se, but definitely not under those circumstances. And definitely not when you didn’t feel that way about him.

He was flooded with relief when you opted to take a shot instead.

“You looked terrified so I drank,” you say in the present, pushing out your lower lip in a pout. “Would kissing me really have been that bad?”

Yes, he thinks. But for reasons you wouldn’t understand. I wouldn’t have survived it.

“Kook was just messing with us. It was a stupid joke, and you knew it. That’s why you drank.”

“I drank because you looked angry,” you press, and Taehyung worries that you’re genuinely hurt by the implied rejection. But that would mean— “We could kiss, and it would be fine. Here, look.” You sit up straight again, closing your eyes and puckering your lips in his direction.

Heat rushes to his face for what feels like the hundredth time tonight. “What are you doing?”

“Kiss me.”

He’s shaking his head immediately. “No.”

“Why not?”

“Y/N.” He laughs gently at your pouting face, lifting the clothes again so he can drop them into your lap this time. “I’m not going to kiss you when you’re drunk. Like I said, you’re not thinking right. I wouldn’t do that.” He taps your chin, directing your attention down. “Get yourself dressed. I’ll find you a bucket and more water.”

You grumble something he doesn’t understand on his way out of your room, still a little flustered from your conversation. It wasn’t like you to flirt with him. And suggesting he kiss you? No. That definitely must’ve been the alcohol talking. Over a decade’s worth of friendship with you, and it’s never seemed like you’ve even entertained the thought.

Still, he thinks to himself as he grabs you another glass of water before making a stop to the bathroom, could it be that drunk words are sober thoughts? Could this be his sign to try and see if there may be something more lingering under the surface of your friendsh—

He crushes down the idea as it occurs. He’s been through this line of thought before and, as always, knows that no good can come of it. There’s no doubt in his mind that you don’t feel for him like that. And he’ll be damned if he burdens you with his own feelings. It’s his own problem; he’s not going to put that on you to solve.

He retrieves a small pail, make-up wipe, and bottle of painkillers from the bathroom before making his way back to your bedroom. Not only have you changed into your pajamas, but you’ve also crawled into bed, the blanket pulled over your head with you huddled beneath it in a heap.

Taehyung sets down the water and medicine on your side table and places the pail on the floor beside your bed. Nudging at the covers, he says, “Poke your head out. We gotta get your makeup off.”

You roll onto your back, sticking your head out with a groan. “It’s fiiiiine,” you whine. “Jus’ leave it.”

“Your eyes will get irritated. I’ve got it.”

He wipes delicately at your face, a caress hidden in every sweep of his fingers. And once your skin has been wiped clean, he tucks you in properly, curled up on your side so he doesn’t need to worry about you rolling onto your back.

“There’s water and medicine here” he tells you. “And a bucket on the floor in case you need to throw up. Do you need anything else right now?”

“No,” you sigh.

“Okay, if you need anything at all just shout. I’ll leave my door open.”

He’s turning to leave, thinking that’s the end of it when your voice calls out. Tiny.

“Tae?”

His focus is back on you in an instant, crouching down at your side ready to help. “What’s up?”

Your eyes are closed and you hum dreamily, fingers on the bed curling towards him. “You take such good care of me.”

Something wraps around his heart, squeezes. “I’m glad you think so.”

“Mmmm.” You’re halfway asleep, breaths evening out. “You’ll be an incredible dad someday.”

His whole world stops, your words rocking him to his core. Because how do you just lay that on him so suddenly? So casually? One of his greatest fears and insecurities, eased instantly by the sound of your reassurances.

“Y/N,” he murmurs, tears stinging his eyes. But you’re already out, blissfully unaware of the effect you’ve just had on him.

He can’t help but watch you for a few minutes, gaze studiously tracing over your face like he may need to one day draw you from memory. You look so beautiful, so peaceful—every bit the angel he forever sees you as. Unable to help himself, he raises his hand to gently stroke a finger one, two, three times through your hair before tucking it back behind your ear. And something may just have grabbed ahold of him tonight because before he stands back up, he leans in to press the softest kiss to your forehead, lips lingering against your skin until he forces himself to pull away.

He leaves the room quietly, with one last peek over his shoulder at your sleeping form. Crossing the hall, he begins settling into his own bed wrangling a hurricane of thoughts: you, him, how he feels about you, the years you’ve spent together and how he desperately wants them to continue. And, with everything you’ve said tonight, he thinks that maybe—maybe—there wouldn’t be harm in testing the waters to see if you might want something more too. Throw a bit of that flirtatiousness back at you and see what happens.

He falls asleep smiling. Tomorrow is a new day.

The sound of chatter rouses Taehyung from his sleep the next morning as does the smell of bacon. He sits up, groggily runs a hand through his hair, and pads down the hall to find you, Jimin, and Maya sat around the dining room table.

“Oh yay, you’re alive,” Maya teases.

He gives her a quick raise of his eyebrows in acknowledgement. “So it would seem. Why are you here?”

“Alright, going to pretend that was way more enthusiastic and ignore the tone,” she responds, leaning back in her chair. “We’re supposed to go down to the park to work on that project for Dr. Kwon’s class, remember?”

“Ah shit, that’s today.” He rubs a hand over his face, trying to wipe away more sleep. “Ok, let me eat and get dressed, and we can go.”

There's a crash in the kitchen, and Jimin, standing at the stove, calls out, "Uhhhh a little help?"

Maya rolls her eyes and stands to assist. "See, this is why we usually leave cooking to the professionals."

Taehyung laughs at their antics. Never a dull moment in this apartment. "Didn't feel like cooking this morning?" he asks, settling into the chair next to you.

You shake your head as you take a sip from the coffee mug in front of you. "No, Jimin wanted to do it. Said he wants to practice so he can impress that girl he's been seeing."

"Ah." He studies your face, suddenly remembering the way you'd asked him to kiss you last night.

"What?"

Your voice startles him out of the memory. "What?"

"You're looking at me funny," you say and take a swipe at one of your cheeks. "Something on my face?"

He's suddenly nervous, second-guessing his plan to test the waters with you. "No. Just wondering how you're feeling. You were...very drunk last night."

You blush. "Yeah, I don't remember much after I took that last shot, and you said it was time to go home." Scratching absent-mindedly behind your ear, you say, "I hope I didn't say anything too embarrassing after that."

"No, you were fine," Taehyung says, before quickly rethinking his words. It seems like it's now or never. "Actually, there were a couple things you said that I wanted to ask about."

"Oh no." Your eyes widen. "What'd I do?"

"Nothing bad," he chuckles. "Just that—"

Your phone chimes loudly, and your gaze shoots to it, immediately snatching it into your hand as Maya bolts back over and squeals, “Is that him?!”

“Yes!” you exclaim, eyes roaming across the screen excitedly.

Taehyung licks his lips, caught entirely off-guard by this development. “Who is this?”

“Jace from my Marketing Psych class,” you say quickly, fingers flying over the keyboard.

“He asked her out this morning!” Maya adds with a pointed look at Taehyung that he doesn’t know how to interpret. His stomach twists, chest burns as every hope he’d had of asking you about last night dies on his tongue.

“Okay,” you say, looking up at Maya, completely oblivious to the suffering happening on your right. “Friday at that fancy Italian place on Fifth.” You slap a hand to your forehead. “We need to go shopping!”

“Of course we will!” Maya trills just as you turn back to Taehyung looking mildly apologetic.

“Sorry, Tae. You were saying something?”

He licks his lips again, internally cringing at the bitter taste. “No,” he says. “It’s nothing.”

“Are you sure?” Your brow creases. “You can always ask me anything.”

“It’s really nothing,” he insists. “I already forgot what it was.”

You’re clearly not convinced but you relent, giving a tiny, “Okay,” as you watch him stand from the table, eyes now directed at Maya.

“Just give me five minutes to get dressed and grab my stuff, and we can go.”

“But you didn’t even eat,” you say.

He glances at you from under his lashes as he backpedals towards his bedroom, heart in his throat. “I’m not hungry.”

It’s a sign from the universe, he thinks. A final killing blow to the hopes that have long lingered inside of him. And at this point, it’s best he accepts it.

You’re just not meant to be.

a/n: part 5 is my next focus, i promise <33 and if anyone would be interested in an ask game, pls let me know! it might help the gears turn faster :)

#taehyung x reader #taehyung x you #taehyung fluff #taehyung angst #bts x reader #bts x you #bts imagines #taehyung imagines #taehyung fic #taehyung fanfic #bts fluff #bts angst #bts fic #bts fanfic

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aurorawritestoescape · 11 months

Text

SURVEILLANCE

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader (in established relationships with m!oc/not named)

Summary: Javier's been surveilling your boyfriend and has to listen to everything you two are saying. And doing. So one day he does something really unprofessional.

Tw: 🔞mdni smut voyeurism, m!masturbation, Javi is a little obsessed with you, dirty talk, lots of horny daydreaming, piv, threesome, dp, breeding kink, swearing, lmk if I missed something

Word count: 1,8k

A/n: gif by @azertyrobaz Thank you @milla-frenchy for helping me find the perfect gif and your undying support🫂😘

Javier is sitting at his desk in the office, fiddling with the headset cord and staring at the photo of you peeking out of a folder. He sees just the top of your head and your eyes. Your gorgeous eyes looking up and to the side at someone next to you. They’re full of love, affection and something animalistic, instinct induced. He wishes you were looking at him like that.

The DEA has been surveilling you for almost a month. Well not you but your dickhead of a boyfriend. He was one of Escobar’s people, just a middle man, but they believed that they could gather some useful information by closely monitoring him and his associates. The DEA began direct surveillance - tailing him and you, taking pictures and documenting everything. They also bugged your boyfriend’s place and could hear everything that was said and done there.

Usually surveillance was a tiring and boring process, like searching for a gold nugget in a huge pile of dirt. But not this time. Not with you involved.

When they began the operation Javier tried to stay impartial to you as well as everything and everyone connected to the target. For some fucking reason he couldn’t do that. When he heard your voice, the way you talked and carried yourself something woke up inside him. Something that was dormant and pushed out of his life, again and again. He heard your voice and remembered himself younger, longing to touch and be touched, yearning for connection, as well as passion and lust. His desires were satiated by meaningless hookups, fleeting affairs suffocated by the amount of stressful work. Javier liked it this way, as he didn’t see himself settling down for a quiet family life.

And then he heard your voice. Soft and quiet, yet powerful in its seductive beauty.

They all took shifts to listen in on your boyfriend and you every morning, day and night. Javier couldn’t miss anything as every minor detail could lead to a breakthrough. The first time you two had sex he had to listen.

To Javi’s surprise you loved talking during sex. The dirtiest phrases were flying into his ears and straight to his cock. “Si, papi! Like that, grab my tits. Oh yes, fuck me harder.” He had to adjust himself several times and couldn’t wait to leave work to visit one of his prostitutes.

The second time he realized where it was going by the kissing noises so he took off the headset and waited for you to finish. He felt dirty and creepy listening and getting turned on.

Instead he took more direct surveillance shifts following you two and that’s where another trap was waiting for him. On top of your filthy little mouth and banging body you turned out to be nice. Lovely even. You would help your elderly neighbours, look after your little sister whenever your parents asked and glow with genuine happiness playing with her in the park. He saw you talking to the other kids there, giving your warmth generously to them and his lips would involuntarily curl up in a smile. For a second or longer Javier imagined you pregnant with his child, carrying his love inside you. Your belly round under that summer dress, breasts spilling out of the neckline, ripe and ready to feed his child. He saw the moment he’d put his seed into you - your legs on his shoulders, him folding you in half by his weight, thrusting his cock deep and hard. He’d pump you full of his hot cum and leave his cock inside you for a night so it would stick. He’d have a family with you. He’d have you.

Javier wasn’t delusional, he knew you weren’t his. And you seemed to really love your boyfriend. Yet the son of a bitch surely didn’t deserve the way you looked at him.

When Javi was the one to tail you two he easily could spot the desire on your pretty face, your cheeks flushed, eyes blown out, chest heaving. You seemed insatiable, always hungry for a touch, a kiss. You’d hold your boyfriend’s hand walking down the street, rest your head on his shoulder standing in a queue, grind against his body dancing in a bar. You were gorgeous.

The nights out were the worst. You always wore a skimpy dress showing off your soft curves, or a pair of tight jeans hugging your butt perfectly. The way you danced drove Javier insane - your hips swaying with the beat, hands snaking up and down your body, touching yourself in all the places Javi wanted to kiss and lick you. He imagined being there with you, pressing his broad chest to your back, holding your waist close to him and kissing your neck, you two moving rhythmically with the music. He’d take your chin in his hand to make you look at him and kiss you, squeezing your breast and pushing his hard-on in between your asscheeks. He’d take you home and rip the clothes off you like a wolf impatient to devour a bunny. He’d suck, bite and then kiss better every inch of your sweaty body until you begged him to fuck you. He’d smirk and place his hands on your inner thighs pushing them open and lowering his face to your pussy, “Papi’ll make you come a few times first, how about that?”

Javi rubs his face as the slapping sounds in his ears get louder. He leans back in his chair and lifts the hips to ease the pressure on his aching cock. He already feels the dampness on his skin. He must have been leaking precum for some time now. You’ve been making out probably on your bed, your soft whimpers slowly hardening his cock. Javier drops his head back with a deep sigh and closes his eyes. You’re full on moaning in his headphones now and he adjusts them to hear you better. His mind tells him that he needs to stop, get out of here, have a smoke. But then the image of you appears behind his eyelids, so clear and vivid that his breathing hitches for a moment. His imagination feeds on the way you sing right into his ears and Javier sees you caged in by his own body, squirming and pleading, “Fuck me, Javi. Te necesito.”

The sounds you’re making being used by another man’s cock shoot straight to his member. He’s throbbing for you, he can already feel the pulsations against his skin.

Javier can’t take it anymore. The desire seems so powerful it burns like fire behind his eyelids. He opens his eyes and looks down at his huge bulge. His hand slides down to his crotch and he palms himself through the jeans.

“Your cock’s so big, papi! My little pussy can barely take it.”

Filthy girl! A moan escapes his lips joining the one you’re making in his headphones.

He quickly bites his lip to shut himself up. Fortunately everyone’s left for the day, but he’s still at work. Javier undoes the zipper and his cock springs out of its confines and bobs dripping on Javi’s shirt. He curses seeing a few wet spots staining the fabric. He hastily takes a hold of his weeping member keeping it head up and spreads the liquid left over the tip with his thumb.

“Rub my clit, papi, yes, like this, wanna come on your big dick,” you whine with need in your voice and Javier groans as another drop of precum beads and then slides down on his hand. His arousal mixes with anger. Why is it affecting him that much? He’s not a fucking teenager getting a boner every time he sees a pretty girl. Why did his dick take over his mind and senses? “Pendejo!” Javier lets go of his cock and gives it a slap on its side with an open palm. His stiff cock is swaying from side to side and Javi snarls watching it grow even bigger. The pain adds to the pleasure and the need becomes unbearable. He gives in.

Javier spits into his hand and starts off slow, jerking his length with short strokes feeling its hot soft skin under his calloused hand.

“Can I suck on your thumb, papi, while you’re fucking me? I miss your cock in my mouth.”

You cry out the fucker’s name after a hard thrust and then your sounds are muffled apparently by the finger in your mouth. First Javi drives away the thoughts of the other man. He shuts his eyes seeing you again in his mind but with his cock buried deep inside your glistening pussy, his balls hitting your ass as your breasts are bouncing after every slam of his hips. Javi’s mind is on fire and his hand starts moving faster. Up and down, up and down. He twists his wrist from time to time and he hears that you’re close too. He wants to jump into the abyss together with you, and listens carefully, concentrates on your breathing, trying not to miss that sweet sound, a tell of your climax hitting you. He’s heard it many times by now and imagined it even more, alone in his bed, in the shower, even with another woman. That sound pushes him over every time, makes his cock erupt on his hand or in another pussy. He's pumping his cock vigourously, roughly without pity. He hears the other man’s groans as the fucker must be close as well. At the back of his mind Javi registers how hot this forbidden threesome is. He can’t help but see the three of you in a bed together. Your body splayed over your boyfriend’s, front up and Javi’s between your gorgeous legs. Two cocks sliding into your little pussy at the same time making you whine and grip the sheets. He’d bend over to take your nipple into his mouth and after finding a steady rhythm, they’d fuck you together until you are spasming around the two cocks.

“Si, si, like that, papi,” you squeal and Javi feels his balls tighten. You make THAT sound and when you hold your breath he knows you’re coming, your muscles tight, eyes shut, hands gripping your knees to keep your legs open so he could see your pussy contracting around his cock, clit twitching, your juices soaking his dick. All he hears now is squelching noises of your pussy being stuffed full of another man’s cum and Javi snarls and comes hard, shooting his hot seed all over his jeans, hand and the cord. Globs of cum spill from his cock and slide down his length. He doesn’t care about the mess and milks it to the last drop. Javi’s panting hard, you two echoing him in the headphones. He lets go of his softening cock and stares at your folder on his desk. His mind is finally clear. He must have you.

—————

Pendejo-dumbass

Papi- daddy

Te necesito- I need you

Thank you for reading!

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!💖

Tag list: @ghoulettesinspace @iamasaddie @starkovli @missannwinchester @lucyisdoingfine @marysucks-blog

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #javier peña x you #javier pena x reader #javier pena smut #javier pena fanfiction #javier peña #javier pena #narcos x reader #narcos fic

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hwaslayer · 11 months

Text

project: make you love me (jyh) | seven.

♣︎ spotify playlist | series masterlist

—summary: yunho can’t stand how you’re so wrapped up in the notorious campus fuckboy, park seonghwa. he would gladly love you the way you deserve, despite being shy, awkward and the complete opposite of seonghwa. thus, when he finds himself spending more time with you over literature reviews and random study sessions, he decides to take on the challenge to win you over.

—pairing: jeong yunho x f. reader x park seonghwa

—genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers/friends to lovers, college au | fluff, angst, smut

—word count: 4.4k

—chapter content/warnings: cussing, oc teaches yunho a few moves hehe, subtle flirting and small signs of affection, yunho meets oc's mom and sis! (coincidentally) lol, mingi being weird again due to his loyalty with hwa, yeosang encourages yunho to just go for it 😭

Yunho swings his keychain around his finger, letting out a breath as he makes his usual trek to the back parking lot. He's exhausted, and he can't wait to just plop onto his bed and do.. nothing.

As he approaches the gym, he hears the once-subtle music now getting louder and louder— though, the rest of campus is quiet, the parking lots are quiet, gym much emptier than usual. When he passes the dance studio window, he sees you alone. Your music is blasting, you're figuring out choreography and cleaning steps up. Yunho can't help but stare a bit until he realizes how odd he must look through the window. So, he diverts his attention and begins to walk on, afraid of ruining your me-time.

"Yunho!" He turns over his shoulder, seeing you leaning near the window screen. "Hey you!"

"Hey." He stops and takes a few steps closer to you.

"You were just gonna pass without saying hi? I've barely seen you all week." You pout, and Yunho thinks it's the cutest thing the world.

"I'm sorry, it's been quite the week. But, you looked too focused, I didn't wanna interrupt."

"Not even! I could use the distraction." You motion for him to come inside. "Come! Unless you have other plans, then don't let me be a bother." You chuckle.

"Alright, if you say so." Yunho laughs a bit and walks towards the front desk, tapping his student ID card on the reader before walking in. He hasn't been to the gym in a minute, mainly because of how swamped he's been with homework and projects. He quickly peeks into the basketball courts, seeing there's open gym going on for those who want to play volleyball. He catches a glimpse of Soobin and Seungmin joining your other friends in a game, Chaery nowhere to be found.

He finally turns down the hallway and finds the dance studio, seeing you continuing to rehearse with the music booming in the room. He steps inside and shuts the door behind him, standing off to the corner to let you finish off your thought process this time around. Your moves flow together, fluidly shifting from one movement to the other— Yunho thinks you're pure art, even if he's not witnessing the entire piece right now.

"You can sit if you want." You tell him as you jog over to your phone and lower the volume.

"What're you working on?"

"Finalizing a part of our piece for a competition coming up soon."

"Competition, hm?" Yunho sits against the glass with one leg propped up, arm hanging loosely over it. "Don't you have a performance tomorrow?"

"I do." You laugh. "But, we wanted to do something a little different for the competition. It's something we've performed before. Just changing a few things around."

"I see."

"Where were you coming from? Library?" He nods.

"My usual. Why aren't you taking a break and playing with your friends?"

"I'm terrible at volleyball, I'll just make them lose and they'll be mad." You giggle. "Chaery is having dinner with her parents. They came down to visit."

"Yeah, I didn't see her around."

"Mhm. She'll probably be back later tonight." You yawn and try to shake off the exhaustion slowly hitting you. "So.. are you coming tomorrow?" You shyly ask him and all Yunho does is stupidly shrug in response.

"I'll try." And he wishes he could take that back the moment it slips out. Because he really does wanna go. He's just not sure how comfortable he'll feel. But he does. He wants to support you and be there for you. You've been nothing but patient and incredibly sweet to him, it's the one thing he could do.

He doesn't do this, though.

He's not really sure how to?

Should he just say congrats after the performance and give you a hug [which might turn into an awkward one-handed hug because he is who he is]?

Should he buy some flowers?

Should he wait for you with the flowers?

Should he buy some for Chaery too so she doesn't feel left out or anything? Because don't you two come in a package deal?

God, it's been so long for him. And he feels so pathetic.

"You promise?"

"Promise."

"Fair enough." You smile. "I just need to go through this a few more times before calling it a night. I gotta teach it to the group."

"You're okay with me around? Isn't it a secret?" You nod.

"Of course. The piece isn't a secret." You tilt your head and giggle. "Actually. Can I teach you a few steps?" Yunho laughs, ears a bright red tint.

"Teach me? I don't know how to dance, Y/N."

"Everyone does, especially once they learn a few steps." You hold out your hand. "Please? It'll be simple and quick." He sighs a bit and stands, slowly walking over to you.

"I don't know. As long as you don't make fun of me."

"I won't." You take his hand and lead him to the center of the room. You watch as he stands tall next to you, shaking his head and slightly creating some distance.

"Wait, I don't know. I-I really don't think I can—"

"Yunho." You look up at him and hold his wrist gently. "Just a few. You're gonna do great. Trust me?" He swallows the lump in his throat before silently nodding, letting you take the lead on teaching him a simple 8 count. He follows along easily, and he learns quick. You're surprised Yunho has never had any dancing history because with the way he moves, you would've believed he had been pursuing it just like you— as a passion, a hobby. You repeat the 8-count a few more times with him before you're blasting the music and having him join along with you. He gets a bit more comfortable, letting you playfully hit him when he messes up on purpose and gives you a look. But, there are other times when he'd reach for your hands and try to prevent your hit— holding your hand and laughing along with you.

"I'm done, I'm done. I swear I'll do it right this time." You slightly whine, letting his hand go to get back into position.

"Yeah, you better."

"I'm not the one with a competition!"

"Still!" He laughs.

"Okay, okay. Jeez, I didn't think I was gonna workout today." He smiles, a soft pink tint coloring his cheeks. He gladly works through the steps once more before stepping out and letting you do your thing, watching off to the side. He crosses his arms and nods in acknowledgement, softly clapping his hands when you've stopped dancing.

"I don't know how this is gonna work."

"Y/N, you're doing great. Seriously. It'll turn out amazing. You have a bit of time, don't be so hard on yourself."

"You think so?"

"You need to give yourself a lot more credit."

"Thank you, Yunho. Especially for letting me randomly teach you." He chuckles.

"It was fun, and I am honored." You giggle.

"Are you just going to head home?"

"Mhm. Be lazy. Think I can give myself that. Do you need a ride?" You shake your head.

"I'm here until Soobin and Seungmin finish."

"You sure you don't need a ride home?"

"Positive. I should really finish this anyway." You giggle before softly hitting him on the chest. "Hope you got a good workout today."

"Kinda, yeah. Probably won't do that for awhile."

"Have a good night, Yunho." You look up at him so sweetly that Yunho feels his knees buckle a bit. Even under the dim studio light, he finds you so, so pretty.

"Will you.. text me when you get home?" He scratches at his temple, unsure if he's coming off needy.

"Of course."

"Okay." Is all he says before grabbing his things, holding his keys in his hands. "Have a good night, Y/N. Don't practice too hard."

"I'll try not to." Yunho gives you a small nod before walking out of the studio. He's not sure if he'd ever say this out loud, but he feels something in his chest when he hears the door shut behind him— now creating a barrier between you and him. He pauses for a second, pondering if he should just sit in the studio and get more work done while you practiced, but he shakes it off and continues walking out of the gym facility.

No.

He was here to help you with literature. He didn't think it'd be anything outside of that. So no, he can't be too much for you right away. He doesn't want to be.

When Yunho gets home, Yeosang is in the kitchen making himself some food. Yunho greets him and brushes past to grab a cold bottle of unsweetened green tea from the fridge.

"Did you just finish from the library?"

"Kinda, yeah." Yunho takes a quick sip. "I, uh, saw Y/N while she was practicing so I hung out in there for a bit."

"Cute. She has another performance tomorrow, right?"

"Mhm, but she was practicing for their competition coming up soon."

"Shouldn't she be taking a break for the performance tomorrow?" Yunho shrugs.

"Her friends are playing volleyball." Yeosang chuckles.

"Are you going to go tomorrow?"

"Hm, I think so. I don't know."

"You should."

"Mm, I don't really go to these things."

"You can do one night for Y/N." Yunho nods.

"Yeah, I guess so. I probably will." He sighs. "I wanted to get her some flowers but I didn't wanna be too much."

"What? No. You wouldn't be. She'll appreciate that gesture."

"Maybe." Yunho lets out a small, pathetic laugh. He is definitely overthinking, and Yeosang is very aware.

"Let me know how it goes."

"Yup." Yunho bids him farewell before settling in his room.

The next day comes quick, and it's a blur for your team. You get to the auditorium bright and early, instantly doing a dry rehearsal and marking the stage before putting on some stage makeup and rehearsing with your performance outfit. It's been so busy that you haven't really gotten a chance to text Yunho back after his goodmorning text—

you: hi yunho, goodmorning! it's gonna be super busy today so i'm sorry if i don't text back right away. i hope i'll see you later, i'll be looking out for you in the crowd. ☺️

yunho: aw, morning! no worries, goodluck today 😊 you'll kill it!

Meanwhile, Yunho heads to the front of the building, quickly buying a ticket before heading indoors. Right before he enters the auditorium, he sees single roses being sold near the far right entrance of the auditorium. Yunho thinks to himself for a moment, wondering if it's a good idea to do this or not. He already settled on the fact that he wouldn't— just to play it safe. But somehow, he feels like this is a sign that he should do it.

Fuck it.

He lets out a breath before he maneuvers through the crowd, instantly handing the seller some cash. He quickly thanks her and makes his way inside, finding a seat in the middle— close enough to see you, but far enough to see the entire stage. He wants to make sure he sees your friends, and he wants to see the piece in its entirety. He lets out a breath, settling into the [uncomfy] chair with the program in his hand.

He flips through the page, reading through the various performances, seeing your group come up towards the end. Typically, he'd hate to sit through all of this. But, he knows you'd really appreciate him staying and supporting the entire show.

So, he sits. He waits. He supports.

But, he's eager to see you. He's eager to see you kill it on stage because he knows you will.

In the next 15 minutes or so, the lights dim in the auditorium, and the MC is beginning to kick off the night with a brief introduction, followed by the meaning behind tonight's concert and what it will be supporting. It takes off with a quick, and intense start— another dance group guesting and beginning the show.

Afterwards, it follows with some singing. A band playing their instruments. Traditional, cultural dancing. Solo stages.

Until the lights shine down on the stage, and he finally spots you, Chaery, your friends. You all hold your poses until the music starts playing loudly in the auditorium, surround sound speakers booming in their corners. You all start off strong, facial expressions properly conveying the intensity of the piece. It splits off into an all-girls piece, before the boys find their way in and it becomes one. All of your moves are pristine and sharp, and the entire piece flows cohesively. Yunho is in awe, and he's not even sure where to look first.

He regrets not having watched you earlier.

The piece is 5 minutes, but Yunho feels like it goes by way too quickly for his liking. The last bits to close the piece out makes the audience roar in screams and yells just as the lights dim and your figures are hurrying off the stage. Yunho claps, smiling big and wide after; feeling the adrenaline and excitement that is being shared amongst the entire room right now.

You killed it out there.

Yunho feels proud of you, and he's glad he got to see you on stage.

When the show closes out, everyone stands and begins to make their way out of the auditorium. Yunho matches the slow pace of the crowd as everyone continues to walk out and wait for their loved ones to come to the lobby. Yunho feels like he should wait here for you to arrive, but he sees a group of people push through the hallway doors on the right— screams erupting from the other side. Before he can even think about it, his feet are already taking him to the hallway, hoping he can find you there.

And luckily for him, he does.

He smiles to himself when he sees you down the hallway; fresh off the stage and looking beautiful as ever. A few people come to greet you and hug you, praising you and your friends for the great performance. Yunho keeps his hands behind his back as he walks closer, your eyes landing on him from past your friend's shoulder.

"Yunho!" You squeal, running to him. "You actually made it!"

"I did." He smiles.

"Sorry, I'm gross and sweaty."

"You look good, Y/N."

"Are you lying?" He laughs and shakes his head.

"No, never that." He shifts. "I.. have something for you?" He says in a cute, questioning tone just as he pulls out a single rose from behind his back. "You did great out there." He smiles at you, a subtle rose-tint growing on his cheeks.

"Yunho." You look at him, and at first, he's not really sure if he fucked up already. But, before he could let his thoughts consume him, you wrap your arms around his neck and hug him tightly. "You're so sweet. Thank you." Yunho takes you in before wrapping an arm around you. He does wrap the one arm around you tightly though, giving you a gentle squeeze before pulling away.

"Where's mine?!" Chaery playfully questions, but Yunho chuckles a bit and pulls out another rose from behind his back. He genuinely wanted to buy her one since she was your bestfriend. Chaery has always been nice to him, and it's the least he could do to show his appreciation for that, and for always taking care of you. Chaery gasps, pouting while taking the flower from Yunho's hand. "Oh my god, I was totally just kidding. You're so sweet, Yunho. Thank you." She pouts.

"It's nothing. You guys did really great up there." Yunho shifts his weight from one foot to another before digging his hands into his pockets.

"He is so cute, please Y/N." She turns to you and whines. "Please snatch him up."

"Can you quit?' You whisper harshly before Yunho is greeting Soobin and Seungmin, praising them for the successful piece. Suddenly, your mom and your sister come rushing through with a big bouquet in hand, your mom pulling you into a big bear hug.

"That piece was amazing! You guys did great!" Your mom praises you with a smile, brushing your hair out of your face before moving onto Chaery.

"Proud of you as always." Your older sister hands you the bouquet, eyeing the rose already in your hand. Her eyes go to you, Yunho's [who is back to observing on the side], then back to you. "I see you got a rose already?"

"Oh, uh." You shyly chuckle and tuck your flowers close to your chest. "This is Yunho. Yunho, my mom, my sister Leia."

"It's nice to meet you." Yunho swallows the lump in his throat, feeling like the world is caving in on him right at this moment. He should've expected your mom and sister to be here, why wouldn't they be? He just didn't expect to be introduced. Jesus Christ, Yunho. Get it together.

"A very tall and handsome one." Your mom says, making your sister and Chaery giggle. "It's nice to meet you, Yunho." She smiles at him.

"My parents wanna grab something to eat with everyone. Shall we get going?" Soobin comes towards you, your family and Chaery. You all nod, giving leverage for your mom, sister and Chaery to shift their attention towards him, Seungmin and the rest of the dance team. Yunho slowly steps closer to you again, a small, toothless smile on his face.

"Gonna go eat?"

"Mhm. You should join us!" He shakes his head.

"You should enjoy your dinner with your family and friends." You give him a tiny smile of acknowledgment.

"Thank you for coming, Yunho. Seriously." You chuckle and nod before raising the rose up. "And for this. I'll make sure to take really good care of it."

"Good." He tilts his head and quickly swipes his tongue over his lips. "Have a good dinner."

"I will. You too? Get something to eat, okay?" You gently set the flowers down before wrapping your arms around his neck for another quick hug. This time, Yunho can successfully wrap his arms around your waist and pull you close properly. He smells like.. woody sage, with a mix of his laundry detergent. You slowly pull away, keeping your gaze on him while subtly biting on your bottom lip. "I'll text you later."

"Okay." Is all he responds with. You find it hard to pull yourself away from him, like some kind of force that wants to keep yourself attached to him; a force that keeps you wanting more from Yunho. But, you're pulled out of your thoughts when Chaery yells your name, begging for you to hurry so everyone could leave.

So, you catch up with your friends, your family; happily holding your flowers on the way out, while Yunho's left here, wondering what to do.

Suddenly feeling like he's alone, like he's missing you even though you've only left him a few seconds ago.

Why the fuck is he feeling this way already?

He shakes it off and leaves, brushing through the people that are still crowding around the front of the auditorium. He has to snake past a few, feeling awkward at the random contact he has to make just to get by—

"Ayo!" He hears a familiar voice call out just as he's made it through the crowd. He stops and turns over his shoulder, spotting Mingi coming towards him. "Dude, I didn't know you were coming."

"Uh, yeah." He gives Mingi a dap. Looking past Mingi's shoulder, he sees Seonghwa and San looking over— probably talking shit about him as they speak. To each their own. Yunho could really care less what Seonghwa thinks about him. He must be livid over you calling it quits, but who else is there to blame for that? He didn't cherish you while he had you, now he feels like he has the right to be upset? He feels like he has the right to be mad at you, at Yunho?

Please.

"Were you here the entire time?" Mingi asks.

"Yeah, I told Y/N I'd come to watch."

"Oh, that's cool." Mingi just nods, but Yunho knows he's thinking about other stuff. Probably his loyalty to Seonghwa, how much he wants to tell him not to pursue you while Seonghwa is sulking. Shit like that. "Yeah, we dropped by to catch their performance too. It was sick."

"Yup, they were great. She did great." Yunho responds, hoping to egg Mingi on in one way or another. If he wants to ask, he should just ask. Lo and behold:

"Cute. So, is that a thing now?"

"Odd question considering Seonghwa has feelings for her." Yunho turns it around on him since, you know, dude tried to talk him out of it the last time they spoke.

"They called it quits. I was assuming it was because of you. Hwa's been all sulky about it." Yunho chuckles a bit hearing the way that it was phrased. They.

"Hm." Yunho hums, no longer wanting to entertain this any further. They could keep guessing all the want, Yunho could really care less about Seonghwa and his feelings. "Anyway, I need to head out. Catch you later?"

"Hop on Valorant tonight!" Mingi easily switches the topic just as Yunho is about to turn on his heel and walk the hell away.

"Maybe. We'll see." Yunho gives him one last nod before walking off to his car. Mingi heads back to his friends, greeting a few more people on the way over.

"I'll never understand why you're friends with him." Seonghwa furrows his brows at him and shakes his head.

"He's cool people." Mingi shrugs, unsure of how else to respond. Mingi really did enjoy being friends with Yunho. They don't talk too often, and their conversations aren't typically heavy or incredibly insightful, but Mingi likes the good vibes he gets from Yunho. He's genuine and he's real, and Mingi knows that's hard to find over the years. Don't get him wrong; he feels the same with Seonghwa and San. They mainly have more of the same interests as Mingi does, which is why they're stuck to each other like glue. They like partying and going out, they like drinking. Getting into wild shit from time to time. You know how it goes.

Overall, Mingi still respects Yunho, and he finds comfort in their friendship. It's different from the rest.

Yunho's drive home is quiet, but pleasant. OG Heartthrob by Majid Jordan comes up on the rotation, and he finds himself lowly singing along. His thoughts start wandering over to you, smiling a bit to himself like a dumbass when he remembers how happy you looked on stage. How happy you looked seeing him. How happy you looked when he gave you the rose.

You look good happy.

And Yunho loves being the reason you're happy.

He kinda wishes he could keep being the reason you're happy.

He kinda misses you.

But, he shakes off the thoughts when he pulls into the lot and passes your building. He shouldn't be jumping to conclusions, no. For all he knows, you're probably just being incredibly nice to him, and you're probably still trying to find the right words to let him down easily.

You probably wouldn't feel the same way as him.

Yunho lets out a sigh when he pulls into his usual spot, sitting in the driver's seat for a minute even though the car is set to park. He's so torn about this. Because as much as he wants to say it out loud, he's afraid to.

"How'd it go?" Yunho hears as soon as he steps through the door. To his surprise, it's another night when Yeosang is sitting on the couch, indulging in a show. He's eating some takeout laid out on the coffee table in front of him while Yunho sets his things aside.

"Good. They did really good."

"I've seen a bit of a performance before. They are pretty good." Yeosang looks over at him as Yunho leans near the patio door, trying to make sense of the show Yeosang has on.

"Mhm."

"How come you aren't hanging out?"

"She's eating with the team and their families. I actually met her mom and sister earlier." Yeosang's eyes widen a bit.

"No shit?" Yeosang smirks. "That's serious."

"What do you mean?" Yunho chuckles confusingly. "People meet family members all the time."

"Yeah, but you know. I always feel like people get introduced if they mean something to the person." Yunho cocks a brow up, listening to Yeosang's reasoning. He can be quite the person, but Yunho does enjoy their conversations when they come up. "She didn't have to introduce you. But, cause you mean something to her, she did."

"Uh, that or maybe just cause her sister noticed the rose I bought her?"

"My guy." Yeosang smiles and shifts topics. "You did it?"

"I wanted to." Yunho shrugs.

"When are you hanging out with her next?"

"She invited me to this little movie night thing they're doing soon."

"Honestly, I say go for it."

"Go for what?"

"Y/N."

"She just ended things with Seonghwa."

"Okay, but that wasn't even considered anything in my very honest opinion. Just a good girl who got wrapped into a dude's schemes. Nothing more, nothing less." Yeosang looks at him. "I think she likes you too."

"I never said—" Yeosang rolls his eyes.

"You didn't have to. I can see it. And by the sounds of it, you seem to make her genuinely happy. She wants you around, she wants to hang out. She enjoys having you around. Don't skip on the chance." Yeosang stands and stretches. "Seonghwa's loss. It's not your problem." Yunho quietly nods.

"Thanks."

"Yup." Yeosang switches the TV off. "Anyway, I gotta finish some stuff before I call it a night."

"Not hopping on League tonight?"

"Nah. For once." Yeosang chuckles and walks off to his room, gently shutting the door behind him. Yunho pushes himself off of the wall and tidies up in the living room a bit before walking into his own room. He really doesn't find himself getting hungry right now, and feels like he could just use this time to be lazy— catch up on a few shows or movies he wanted to watch. He grabs his pajamas and heads to the bathroom to get freshened up and ready for bed, shutting off the lights in the hallway before retreating into his room for the night. He slips himself under the covers, sheets messily pulled up to his chest. He scrolls through his phone, wondering if he should check up on you or let you know that he'll be here watching a movie until you're home.

He doesn't wanna do too much, but he just misses your company.

You.

Yeosang is right.

He should go for it.

Yunho has given himself enough time to move on and work on himself over the years. In the end, he does wanna be the reason why you smile. He does wanna be the reason why you're happy.

♣︎ taglist: @s-nsanshine @soupbinlily @tyongff-ff @jiminiscricket @g1g1l @staytinyinmybpack @woomyteez @gfksz @bitchwhytho @savluvsmingi @thisisntmyrightera @hyukssunflower @miriamxsworld @tmtxtf @kuromibabe04 @lmnhead @carrietwrites @tournesol155 @persphonesorchid @txt-yaomi @marsattacks @mxnsxngie @h-nji @mundayoonimnida @jalapeno-princess @nakiiko @asjkdk @kunikku @idkwgoh @kyeos4ng @agust-d2 @araknoid @bintific @primoppang

293 notes · View notes

vaesbst · 1 month

Text

The Academy for Soulless Dolls|| #1

╰┈➤ Synopsis; Mencià, a lifelong drifter through boarding schools, is thrust into the mysterious Rosethorn Academy, a haven for the elite. Eager to stay under the radar, her plans unravel when the school's most powerful heir becomes dangerously obsessed with her. As she uncovers dark secrets within the academy's shadowy halls, Mencià must protect her own secrets or risk being consumed by the sinister forces at play.

╰┈➤ Paring: Hyunjin x OC

╰┈➤ Genre: elite academy au, dark secrets, slow burn, angst, smut,fluff

╰┈➤ Warnings: explicit language, implied violence

╰┈➤ Word count: 5.1k

notes: this is the first fanfic I’ve ever written and english isn’t my first language so I apologise for any grammatical errors. The main protagonist is an OC I created, and she’s meant to be a darkskin black female but you’re more than welcome to picture her as yourself or anyone else you want. Please do leave me some feedback as I appreciate them all and they help me improve.

Mob mentality

-- also called herd or hive mentality -- is the inclination that some humans have to be part of a large group, often neglecting their individual feelings in the process, and adopting the behaviors and actions of the people around them.

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New beginnings are always scary- well at least that's what the average person would say if you asked them . Not many people are fond of change, some will even do the unthinkable to avoid it because, understandably so, it does open a vast door to the unknown and when individuals are used to a set routine, suddenly having to face and tackle something foreign will arise a sense of fight of flight in them.

But I can't say the same for me.

I'm walking through the vast opaque corridors of what's going to be my new home for the next year with my head ducked down, hiding away from the public and taking count of every step I'm making, attempting as much as possible to avoid the curious stares that I'm already receiving from the other students. I know it's weird to refer to a school as a "home" but coming from where I came, anywhere would be better than my actual in-house situation. My old school used to be my safe heaven. A place where i felt accepted and secure. A place where I felt like I could truly be myself and walk around the hallways without feeling much angst. It was great, until it wasn't. They turned on me so I had to flee in search of a new place to call home.

My dad wasn't too happy about me having to change schools in the middle of the year, as it would raise too many questions that he'd have to bury since he can't risk having his reputation ruined by a "trouble making" daughter. At least not now that's he's running for senator. So he did what he's been doing for the past 14 years. Found the best academy he could lock me up in for good.

This time he chose Rosethorn Academy for Gifted Kids, which I've heard lots about. Mainly regarding how it's a elite school where extremely rich entitled parents send their spoiled bratty kids to, so that they can get on with their luxurious lives without having to worry about them for a good year. But also about how they have developed an intricate housing system that is substantially similar to Hogwarts from Harry Potter which I'm sorta excited to see.

"Make sure your clothes are straightened and your hair is patted down adequately Mencìa, your aim is to leave a good impression" says my mum walking alongside me with her back as straight and rigid as a sugar cane, nose pointed up to the sky, strolling along this unfamiliar corridor like she owns the place.

Despite initially being a mere "commoner", my mother has gained a sense of superiority over her peers when my dad chose to marry her. She is aware that most of them bad mouth her behind her back, but she could not care less because in her words "only miserable people have the time to look down on others since they aren't satisfied with what life has given them, successful people are too busy capitalising off of their success". In some ways I do admire her confidence, but sometimes I do wonder whether she's just putting up a front.

Me and her have been walking for what seemed like hours before we reached the door of the headmaster's office. "Look at me for a second" my mother says grabbing my chin and tilting my head towards her.

"Ow ma! You're hurting me" i loudly whisper , trying to not gain attention from the other passer-by's as she keeps tilting my head in every direction, closely analysing my face to detect any imperfections.

"Like I said, leaving a good impression is key" she reminds me, "Plus, you look great today, though I wish you wore something a little bit more...professional? concise?" She admits whilst simultaneously looking down at my outfit: an oversized grey hoodie with a black Metallica graphic tee underneath, a jean skirt, white slouch socks and a pair of black healed Mary Jane's.

"I think it's a pretty average outfit ma" I defensively say since I literally don't see what's wrong with it, this is literally how I dress everyday. "Exactly." she reaffirms leaving me dumbfounded as she proceeds to knock on the door.

"COME IN!" shouts a feminine voice inside the office. As we walk inside we are welcomed by a tall, slim blonde woman, standing right next to her desk. She seems to be in her mid 50's.

"You must be Mencìa Natalia Cypress" she says looking at me and holding her hand out smiling. I took it, shaking it lightly, slightly intimidated by how intensely she's gazing at me. Almost as if she was trying to uncover my deepest darkest secrets which made me wonder what she could already know about me.

"And you must be Amethyst VonDée, her guardian" she says while shaking hands with my mother

"Yes correct, it's nice to finally meet you Mrs Peregrine" she smiles, looking at her up and down whilst still maintaining a sense of elegance in her greet, which Mrs Peregrine seems to be slightly taken aback by, but she manages to quickly compose herself and greets her with the same intesity, "The pleasure is mine, why don't we all take a sit and chat for a bit" she says, guiding her hands towards the two cushioned chairs in front of her chestnut desk.

Me and my mother gladly take our sits and Mrs Peregrine joins us shortly after. "So Miss Cypress, what I have here in front of me is your curriculum from your other school" she informs us, "and by giving it a quick scan I would like to say that it's relatively impressive!" She adds, "You have an A in pretty much every subject- except for PE but we can work on that. Plus, we only look at academic subjects here and not really physical" she smiles at me reassuringly.

"Though a C isn't a bad grade so you don't have much to worry about, but..." she shifts her gaze from her computer screen to me, staring at me with so much intensity that it made me shake on my sit, anxiously waiting for the next words that were about to come out of her mouth.

"I just wanted to inform you that we do not tolerate any type misconduct here at Rosethorn" the tone of her voice changed, suddenly sounding a lot more stricter and colder, a juxtaposition of her initial sweet and reassuring voice.

My heart drops at the reminder of the past occurrences in my old school. I wanted a fresh start. I wanted to move on so badly and get away from it all. I tried forgetting every instance that had happen for my own sake, but it seems like this situation will forever keep haunting me.

"My husband has already taken care of it Mrs Peregrine so it shouldn't be an issue" my mother intervenes, probably sensing my discomfort, "Plus I am aware that he has left a rather large donation to prevent this topic from coming up again, was it not large enough? Should i refer it to him?" she adds, smugly looking at the headmaster with her head high.

I witness firsthand the colour of her face completely draining as she started frantically coughing, "No *cough* no need to result to such drastic measures, I just wanted to..." she pauses and looks at me with a tight smile "..tell Mencìa about how the academy works. I was not referring to anything in particular" she awkwardly laughs and diverts her gaze back to her computer screen.

"Shall we move onto sorting out the house you will be part of?" she utters, clapping her hands together.

I swiftly look at my mother which seems rather pleased after witnessing the headmaster literally shiver from terror at the mention of my father. Me and her both know that my father is a scary individual. Not many people are willing to go against him because of his overarching strong personality, and the faint rumours about the end that many of his competitors have met. I don't know if the rumours are true since I was never too keen on knowing how my dad handles his business, but I wouldn't be surprised if they were. He's a terryfying man.

"Okay so after our system calculated the mean of your grades, looked into your old extracurricular activities and analysed the frequency in your contribution both in class and during these clubs as well as your socio-economic status, it has suggested that the best house for you would be.... Làpis Lazzuli!" she announces excitedly, looking at me seeking for a reaction.

I give her a slight awkward smile which she seems disappointed by, probably expecting a bigger reaction from me. I have no idea about what significance the houses here hold so being put in Làpis Lazzuli doesn't really make a difference to me, I would have been content any where to be honest.

"That's perfect! That is exactly what me and her dad were hoping for!" my mum proudly exclaims, looking at me like I've just won a Nobel prize for world peace. Confused is literally an understatement for what I'm feeling right now.

"I'm very glad you're happy with the choice madame" Mrs Peregrine smiles "Mencìa, heres your timetable" she says handing me my seemingly packed schedule "and your designated uniform should have been delivered to your room by now, so when you go check it out it should be placed on your bed. If it's not, do not hesitate to ring front desk and they'll sort it out for you"

I nod feeling slightly light headed. It's done. It's over. I've been enrolled and now i'm officially a Rosethorne student. I'd be lying if i said that my heart didn't feel like it was literally about to jump out my throat. I knew the process wasn't going to take long but a little part in me hoped that this meeting would have lasted longer, or at least long enough for me to familiarise myself with the idea of frequenting a school where hopefully no one knew me. And i was going to make that my priority. I have to keep myself anomymous no matter what.

I pick my bag up from the ground where it was slouched against one of the legs of the desk and make my way outside the office alongside my mother.

"That was a succesful meeting, i'll make sure to refer everything back to your father, he'll be very pleased to hear that you made it into Lapis house" she says, looking at me ecstatic. I scoff, knowing that if she was refering to my dad, as in THE Lucious Santana then he most likely wouldn't have cared. He doesn't tend to mingle with my affairs, all he cares about is his "empire".

"What the hell is the deal with this Lapus Lozzuli house?" i frown perplexed, "It's LÀPIS LAZZULI, not Lupas Luzzoli or whatever language you just spoke right now" she corrects me "Plus, only the best of the best get accepted into that house. Think about every politician or successful business owner you know that has attended Rosethorne. They were all sorted into Làpis house. They call it the house of the 0.1 percentile" she triumphaly says, making a grand gesture with her arms to emphasise the significance of her statement "Because being in that house will guarantee you a prime spot amongst the elites of the population the second you're out of here".

I nod as i sign of understanding to cut the conversation short. I tuned out whatever she was saying the second she started talking about politicians and all that rubbish, i have bigger things to worry about, like what the uniform is gonna look like on me and how fast i'll be able change and walk to third period english literature to be able to get there before everyone else. The last thing i want right now is to have an entire group of post pubescent teenagers wonder where the fuck i came from just because i chose to appear at a more appropriate time.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

"Oh wow..." my mother says dumfounded by the large building that was currently facing us. "Oh wow indeed madre..." i reply being equally as dumbfounded as she was. The female dormitory is rather magnificient to say the least.

It's a slate grey brick building with a charcoal clay & concrete tile roof. The massive burgundy entrance door was shadowed by a vast ashen staircase in the same opaque shade as the building. The walkway was drowned by white pebbles that composed an ironically smooth path of gravel that flawlessly complimented the walls' colour, and the dormitory was surrounded by a perfectly trimmed bush that fenced the structure. Directly infront of it, in the centre of the expansive walkway, a bronze fountain stood, with a statue of a supposedly faceless woman holding a withering rose against her chest.

I make my way up the stairs clutching the ends of my jean skirt so tightly to avoid flashing anyone behind me and just to have something to hold because i genuenly don't know what to do with myself. The anxiety is eating me alive.

We make it through the entrance and are welcomed by a spacious hall, illuminated by an enormous crystal gold chandelier perfectly cascading above a large mahogany desk residing right in the centre.

A brunette tanned woman is sitting infront of a silver large screen behind the desk, loudly tapping away on her minuture iMac keyboard. She looked up once she heard us walking towards her and stood to greet us warmily "Hello! Nice to meet you both, i'm Faith" she said shaking both mine and my mother's hands. "You must be Mencìa" she looked at me with a bright smile "I was expecting you", she said whilst walking behind her desk and coming back round to where me and my mum are standing with a set of keys in her hands. She hands me the keys and i notice the large golden 77 engraved in the blue leather keychain attached to them.

"You will be residing in our solo suites on the third floor as requested by your father" i exhale, being glad that for once my dad cared enough to actually listen to me. I wouldn't have minded sharing a room with another student if it weren't for the special circumstances i'm currently in.

After all, i did have a roomate in my old school but unfortunately it didn't go as well as I planned...

I begged my father to request for a single room by myself, and i didn't think he was actually listening to me that day since he seemed to be a lot more captivated by contents on his work computer rather than his literal offspring standing in front of him begging for her life. I guess this time he actually acknowledged me.

"The elevators are this way" Faith points to her left towards the end the corridor where three silvery metallic doors were sitting against a brick wall next to each other. "Your suitcases should have been taken up to your room by now so don't you worry about them. Do call me if there's any concerns" she lastly says before returning back to her sit.

We made our way up to the third floor and found my room in no time, being that it was the only room at the very end of the corridor. There weren't many students around, as i recall noticing that the only people present in the bulding when i first walked in were Faith the receptionist and the tall security guard next to the entrance.

I figure that everyone must be in their respective classes right now hence the current sinister emptiness of the corridors.

"Okay brace yourself for disaster, we're here!!" my mother squeales excited. I grip onto the handle and open the door at a painfully slow pace with my breath hitched, expecting the worse even though it's probably just going to be an average sized empty room and I'm just overreacting.

The door opens all the way and we're met with a beautifully lighted spacious bedroom. The walls are pearly white with a pinkish undertone that I'm yet to determine whether it's due to the sunlight reflecting onto the majestic diamond chandelier in the dead centre of the ceiling, or if it's simply just the paint.

The floor is covered by a light grey carpet that I adore since I prefer walking around my room shoe less. A double bed rests upon a little round platform (also covered by the grey carpet) directly in front of the door. Its headboard is a silvery crushed velvet material. On the left side, two massive windows allow the sunlight outside to naturally light up the room, and a white couch with two fuchsia cushions sits underneath them.

A white mahogany desk resides on the right side of the room, between two doors. One leads to the en-suite bathroom and the other one leads to the walk-in closet. My suitcases were left in the middle of my room.

"I gotta admit this is much better than I expected" I say satisfied with what I was given. I'm not too sure whether it was my dad's doing or if these are just what the standard single rooms look like, but I'm happy nonetheless. I can't wait to decorate it.

"Your dad really outdid himself this time. That couch is fabulous! We need one in our bedroom" my mum says, pacing around the room inspecting the surroundings.

"What do you mean by 'dad outdid himself'? Did he remodel the room?!" I ask anxiously. I mean, I did request for a single room and it is indeed quite nice but I don't wanna receive any special treatments in case it brings too much attention. I would've been fine with anything.

"Not necessarily...but he did replace the original bed with the current one and he also got you the couch" she explains "plus the chandelier was my doing! Do you like it?" she looks at me hopeful, waiting for my response.

"It was a nice touch, I love it! Thanks mum" I say embracing her lovingly. A bit extra? Yes.

But what can I do. That's just how my mother shows her love for me every so often, especially since she doesn't get to do so in public anyway.

"You're welcome tesoro~" she replies hugging me back. I end our embrace and walk towards my bed where my uniform is sitting: An almost black navy blue blazer with 2 golden buttons, a blue and grey plaid bow tie with a big blue gem on the knot, a plaid pleated skirt of the same colour of the bow tie, and a complementary black gilet sweater that I'm guessing is for when the weather is colder.

"Do you need any help unpacking Mencià? Because I can stay for longer if you need me to" my mother asks me with a look of worry on her face.

"No thanks mum. I'm gonna go off to my first lesson soon so I'm probably not gonna unpack right now. Plus it'll give me something to do this evening so I should be fine" I tell her, smiling reassuringly.

"If you say so then I'll be taking my leave. Don't forget to call me tonight once you're back from your classes and don't even think about shortening your skirt Mencià..." she beings rambling as I start pushing her towards the door. Once she starts she'll never end.

"... and wear tights! And I'm not talking about those fishnets you're hiding in your suitcase. You thought I didn't see them huh?!" she carries on, "yeah mum I won't don't worry" I respond exasperated trying to cease her blathering.

"Also..." we're at the door now and she's finally stopped her rambling session. She's looking at me now, worry back on her face "Don't forget that we're always here for you. Your dad may not show it often but he loves you very much" A saddened look replaces the look of worry as she begins stroking my left cheek with her thumb

"You've gone through a lot of hardships but this is your chance to start over. Don't think about the past anymore and focus on building a new future. A future that you desire" she says, smiling at me reassuringly.

"Thanks for the advice madre~" i force a smile in an attempt to hide the tears that are about to spill out my eyes. Goodbyes are never easy, no matter how frequently they happen. I've gradually adapted to not being at home often being that I grew up going to various boarding schools, but this time it's different. It feels different.

"Please thank dad on my behalf for the bed and the couch" I say giving her one last hug. "I will~" she replies. We end our embrace and she gives me one last look before taking her leave.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

"Gosh~ spero di essermi portata tutto..."(I hope I brought everything I need) I mumble underneath my breath.

After mopping around my room for 30 minutes trying to figure out how to make my uniform look less dull, I finally left. I know I promised mum that I wouldn't wear the fishnets but I had no choice. I tried to add a little bit of me to my uniform by slightly shortening the skirt and wearing black fishnets with platform doc martens. Everything else is normal.

Third period starts in 45 minutes meaning that I still have time to get to my English classroom and settle in before the other students start swarming in.

Luckily I'm not experiencing much difficulty in finding the room thanks to the map of the school Faith gave on my way out, though I've noticed that the stares have increased and I'm starting to feel slightly anxious again.

Earlier today, I had thought that the reason why everyone was looking at me was because I was literally walking alongside my mother hence people figured that I was new and were just curious. But now I'm all by myself yet others are still staring at me, specifically at my neck, and whispering things underneath their breath to their friends if they're walking in duos or groups.

I'm trying to shake it off, but I'm finding it difficult to not think that they could know something. I feel like if I don't get out of here right now I'm going to start hyperventilating, which i absolutely need to avoid.

I begin rushing to find my classroom so I can seat down and stabilise my breath before everyone else gets there. After searching the hallway on the second floor for what seemed like an eternity, I finally find.

I go to open the door but I stop due to the unknown voices I'm hearing coming from inside. No one should be here yet, class literally starts in about 30 minutes then why am I hearing people inside?

"Have you not learnt your lesson yet? Must I remind you who you are again or are you gonna come to your senses?" says a male voice in a threatening but oddly calm voice followed by a loud bang and a weak mewl possibly coming from a second person in the room. I jolt as I take a step back thinking about whether I should just go back to my room and return at a more appropriate time.

"I-I-I-m s-s-s-orry. I won't do it a-a-gain. I must have lost my mind" pleaded someone with a shaky voice. Another loud bang occurs and this time a high pitched shriek of pain erupts from someone in that room. "You think sorry will cut it? How dare a parasite like you look at me" says the voice I heard at the beginning with a slightly more aggressive tone.

I can't stay here any longer. I'm not entirely sure about what's going on in there but what I'm sure about is that i don't want to be the next target. As I go to take my leave I suddenly come face to face with a girl who's seemingly been standing behind me for a while looking at me with what could only be deciphered as curiosity.

Since she hasn't uttered a word I choose to quietly keep moving. I'm not a fan of small talk as I fear awkwardness and I want to avoid it at all costs.

"Old money or new money?" the girl suddenly asks. I stop dead in my tracks, "I see you're Lapìs house so I'm assuming old money correct?" she insists after noticing my lack of response, "or...don't tell me you're social care!" she loudly whispers.

I look at her confused not entirely sure what to say. "How did you know I was Lapìs house?" I ask her the first question that popped into my mind.

She points at my neck and chuckles "Your bow tie. The gem in the middle is blue. Since you didn't know that then my assumptions were correct" she states proudly "You're new. That explains why I've never seen you around" she says, taking a step closer.

"My name is Aiura Yamaha but you can call me Yuri, nice to meet you" she triumphantly announces with a big bright smile revelling her perfectly curated white teeth. I nod and smile back introducing myself also but with a lot less energy "Nice to meet you, my name's Mencià".

She takes my hand and frantically shakes it, smile still wide and bright. Now that I'm taking a proper look at her I gotta admit that she's relatively beautiful. Her hair is dirty blonde styled in a pompous half up half down hairdo. Her skin is tanned and shiny emulating the reincarnation of what it means to be "baciata dal sole" (sun-kissed).

She's only wearing a white shirt with the first three buttons undone showing her prominent cleavage. Her bow tie is sitting lose around her neck, her skirt ends just below her bum and her thick white leg warmers rest on top of her black platform crocs decorated with a variety of random charms.

Her alternative way of dressing is a complete juxtaposition of her sweet innocent face. Her eyes are emphasised by the thick white eyeliner on her water line and the heavy nose contour gives her nose a more dainty and petite look.

"You didn't answer my question though" Aiura says, smile slightly faltering. I look at her clueless as I genuinely don't remember "Are you old money or new money?" she asks as I'm reminded of the set of questions she began her introduction with. She stares at me with much more intensity waiting for my response

"I-I don't know, what does that mean?" I ask trying to sound as calm as possible but failing miserably. For some reason I feel like saying the wrong answer will only lead to the possible future trouble I'm so desperately trying to avoid. I should've just kept walking. I don't know why I stopped to interact with her.

"Wait...you don't know?!" she looks at me in disbelief with her mouth agape and her pupils about to pop out of their sockets. Was I supposed to?

I slowly shake my head wary of her next response. "When did you start?" she asks me incredulous, "today..." I whisper looking behind her in search of an escape from this situation. I'm still very unsure about where this conversation is heading.

"Ohhh! In that case, let me give you a brief rundown of how things work in this school. But not here, follow me!" she grabs my arm catching me by surprise and begins hurriedly pulling me away.

With a struggle, I'm able to snatch my arm away from her surprisingly tight grip. Her head snaps back to face me again, but something's different. Her face is flushed and she keeps glancing at the door of my English class. "You really can't be here Mencià. Or at least not now. You need to come with me" she says in a panicked tone.

"But where are we goi-"

"Just come!" Aiura snaps grabbing my arm once more and dragging me away again. My intuition is telling me that following her may be the best option for me right now. I don't ask any further questions and i let her guide me down the hallway.

Suddenly, I hear the door of my English class swing open as we're nearing the end of the hallway. I try to look behind me to catch a peek of the person (or people) that was causing all that ruckus. All I'm able to see is a tall, slightly slender silhouette with jet black wavy hair before Aiura takes a corner and my view get obstructed by the wall.

#hyunjin #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin fanfic #hyunjin x oc #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin smut #stray kids #skz #skz fanfic #skz smut #hyunjin angst

38 notes · View notes

mellosdrawings · 2 months

Note

i loved seeing your character sheets for yuu and hayeli, especially hayeli’s!! it’s clear that a lot of thought went into them and i think his on/off mode is such an interesting concept (also a pomefiore student with blemishes?? yes please!!)

i’d be super curious what your creation process looked like, i.e if where there concepts you scrapped or how you went about choosing a name for them (it’s just a topic i love talking and hearing about but of course you don’t have to get into it if you don’t want to :])

not me also having ideas for an oc with mirror magic, but based on the mirror from the snow queen instead

First I'm so glad you like my characters! It seems Hayeli's bad skin is very popular and I love it! Give me more teenagers with bad skin and not making a huge deal out of it please!

As for my process... dear, that'll be a long post.

General process

Ok so my general character creation process starts with two ways:

1. I have a role to fill in a story that can't be fulfilled by a pre-existing character

2. I have a vibe and I need to turn it into a character

From those needs and/or wants, I'll go through several steps:

1. Age: surprisingly deciding on a character's age first unlocks at least half of its mental and physical design. Is it an adult who already has its shit together or a teen in the middle of a crisis?

2. Vague personality: is the character going to be introvert or extrovert? Shy or outgoing. Proud or self depreciating. Bubbly or quiet. Easy to anger or chill. It doesn't need to be its full personality yet, just guidelines.

3. Race: for fantasy and realism. A character's skin color and cultural background will shape how they view the world a lot!

4. Gender and sexual orientation: i usually decide on the gender based on how many characters I already have of each gender, or whether I want a character to be traditionally feminine/masculine or the total opposite of what's expected. Obviously the gender will affect the design, but the orientation will also affect how the character reacts to others.

5. Assets & weaknesses: for fantasy, it'd be their powers and their shortcomings, for action it'll be their strengths and the things they haven't mastered yet, for romance it'll be their best personality trait and their worst.

Once I have that base guideline, I can start working on a chara design. Age and race help with the body, personality and strengths/weaknesses help with how they dress and present themselves. (An outgoing person will have an easier time dressing in original ways while a shy person would be more traditional for example.)

Once I have a design, I draw shitty little doodles and meme redraws until I have a better sense of their personality. Slices of life and comedy and angst are great way for me to get to know my character. For writers, it'd be writing random scenes to test the characters' reactions.

Then, I double down on the strengths and weaknesses. Make them stand out. Make sure they are coherent to the characters. Make sure the weaknesses are as important as the strength. (For example, I have a character who has super speed. Arguably one of the most cheated powers in existence. I counterbalanced it by giving him poor stamina. In theory he is all powerful. In practice, not so much.)

Lastly, I chose a name. Sometimes it's just about how the name sounds. Sometimes I'm looking for names to mean something. If your character is POC, think about whether they'd have a common name or a name from their own culture. Both are valid but you need to think about it! (For example, I have two maohi characters in the same story. One is called Fray (common name), the other is called Tanemahuta (maohi name) because they and their families have different relationships with their own culture.)

Yuu

Well, that's a strange one since Yuu already does exist in the game, but it's a blank slate, a place holder. Let's make them something worth remembering, shall we.

First, I went with their gender. Most of my placeholders characters end up nonbinary because that's what I am and also I can't be bothered to role-playing gender when playing a simple game.

Then I went with a vibe and a bullet list of things I wanted to keep from the game and things I wanted to add.

To keep:

1. Not very proactive

2. Not very talkative

To add:

1. Raccoon

2. Clever/cunning

3. Physically rather weak

From there I made a design that gave "raccoon vibes". Semi long disheveled hair, lazy eyes, lazy dress up.

Now, what was important was to make up for their weakness: they don't have magic. The world around them is harsh and they get threatened by characters having breakdowns every two months. What is there strength? For Yuu, I wanted them to be clever and cunning. Have them actually outsmart our dear schemers. That's Yuu's one and only strength, they're a schemer themself. They see others as cards that make up their hands the same way Leona sees others as chess pieces. Once you have those big pieces from earlier plus the survival instinct, you get a character that is easy to handle. They don't talk much, keep everything to themselves, manipulate others from the shadows to defend themself.

But. Let's give them one more weakness, shall we? It's funnier that way. Let's make them yearn for connection. They are a teen who got kidnapped from their family. Let's give them a big family. But they are rather independent too, so let's find a way to remove the parents from the picture to explain why they are already able to fend for themself. Now make them yearn for real friendship. Make it obvious their manipulation comes from defensiveness. Have them slip up when they interact with people they genuinely end up caring about.

And there you have Yuu.

Hayeli

Now, for Hayeli, I started out with a vibe. He's actually pretty old, comes from before the game was even released when there were only countdown arts and some vague informations about the game. As I said in his description, he's based on the Evil Queen's mirror. I didn't know at the time there were already plenty of mirrors in the game haha

Contrary to my usual process, I started with his powers first. His Signature Spell had to be something about mirrors. The easy way out would be to have him shape-shifting. There are plenty of angst and fun opportunities from shape-shifting. But that was too simple, I didn't like it. Instead I went with the capacity to copy others' magic. In game there was already Azul being able to steal others' magic through a high requirement spell, so I went with this kind of power. High requirement high reward. I don't like for my characters to be overpowered and I wanted Hayeli to just be average in magic, so I doubled down on the requirements to make his magic near useless.

Then I went on to his gimmick. He still didn't have a personality or body at the time, I really went full mirror first. Hayeli is a mirror. He copies others' magic. What if I double down and make him copy everything as a by-product of his Signature Spell? Ok, now, since I still don't like overpowered characters, how do I make it ruin his life?

And so we come to the problem of his personality: he doesn't have one. He's a blank slate. A mirror. He reproduces others' behaviors and mannerisms and personalities and he has no control over it. He has no idea who he is himself. The angst creates itself.

Once there, it was easy process for the rest. Make him a body. Average size since he's just a copy of others. Pomefiore attitude and presentation since he's in Pomefiore. I like curly hair and there aren't enough of them in Twisted Wonderland so I went with that, but they couldn't be long since Yuu already has semi long curly hair.

I still needed one way to recognize him. Make him pop amongst the other characters. What makes Hayeli physically Hayeli?

1. Moles. So many moles.

2. Bad skin. He's in Pomefiore? Do the contrary of what's expected there. Give him a malleable standard face and add bad skin to it.

3. Strange eyes. He's a mirror who can reproduce everything he sees. His eyes are important. Make them pale like mirrors, make his pupils white to reflect others, make the shape a bit blurry as if the mirror isn't perfect.

And there you have Hayeli's body!

Oh. A name? Google translate, please tell me how to say mirror in different languages please. Mirror in Armenian is "Hayeli", I like the sound of it. Sold. So Hayeli shall be Armenian irl, that'd probably be on the frontiers of the Scalding Sands (thanks a friend for helping me with that part), so maybe I should make his skin darker. Besides, dark skins in a dorm that values beauty is also not the first idea people get. Sold!

(Somewhere during the process, I actually had an objective with Hayeli. "Make him represent Teenagehood itself". Teenagehood is a particularly difficult period, teenagers try to become their own person independently from their parents. They copy each other and all the people they look up to to find what suits them best, but they also hate not being able to tell who they are as a person. Hayeli represents that struggle, and that's also why I gave him a heavy bout of acne and red cheeks and baby fat but a lean body. Teenagehood isn't pretty, and it shouldn't be. Hayeli is awkward, his body is morphing a lot, he has no idea who he is or who he wants to become, he copies others without realizing. But he also has a lot of fun. He cheats at tests, he bothers his classmates and dormmates, he has fun with makeup, he tries a lot of new things. While Yuu was meant to represent survival, Hayeli is meant to represent teenagehood, for better and for worse.)

There you have all of Hayeli's creation process.

TLDR: Mostly I just... don't go with the very first thought I get. Do you know that Pixar or maybe Disney process where they give up on the first dozen ideas they get because it's too "normal" and easy to guess? It has its flaws but I think it's not that bad. I go with the contrary of what's expected (dark bad skin for a dorm that represents beauty) or I push the concept further if I can (copying magic instead of shapeshifting). And most importantly, I give my characters flaws and weaknesses. That's the most important part of the creation to me. What can I give him that'll make him struggle? The scenario writes itself as soon as you give your characters challenges to overcome within themselves.

#for names I either go to baby names websites or i look up actual words #only look up actual words for fantasy or scifi settings tho #for more realistic settings baby name websites where you can check meanings are better #twisted wonderland #twst #twst oc #twst yuu #analysis #ask me anything #character creation #chara design #character design #twst Hayeli

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