#'do some action shots it'll be good practice'

[artisticxlly]

I can already tell that this is gonna kill me lmfao

[ghostaholics]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐒

➸ PAIRING: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x fem!reader (established relationship) ➸ WARNING(S): [ 18+ ] body shots; oral (receiving); ruined orgasm; basically PWP with slight BDSM (disciplinary action) ➸ SUMMARY: Simon teaches you a very important lesson about holding still – extended version of this. ➸ A/N: Thank you to @mvtthewmurdvck who lets me bitch about anything and everything including this and offered kind words when I certainly lost faith in the whole thing. ➸ WORD COUNT: 2.2k

𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐘 𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐁𝐎𝐍, 𝐒𝐈𝐌𝐎𝐍’𝐒 𝐋𝐈𝐐𝐔𝐎𝐑 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐈𝐂𝐄. Pilfered from his not-so-secret stash and running low with about a quarter left; the contents slosh around in their bottle-shaped confinement as he stalks into the room with a heavy hand swallowing around the widest circumference of the glass.

Good memories, usually. Like the first time he’d brandished his titanium pocket flask for you to take a sip. You’d scrunched your nose, feigning disapproval of the drink. And he'd said – cheeky as always – with a low-timbered response:

"Don't worry. The taste of your cunt's still my favourite."

But now, there’s no trace of that Simon anywhere to be seen. His face is entirely devoid of the amusement he already so rarely expressed. Stone-rigid. Unimpressed. Disappointed – seems like – and certainly not in the mood for any games.

❝ 𝐂𝐀𝐍'𝐓 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐕𝐄𝐒 𝐀 𝐑𝐄𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓, 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐇? ❞

It's a red-hot brand searing the edges of your memory (charred, ash-coated, lined by the cinders of a poor attempt on your part that had gone up into flickering embers).

See, the brain remembers it well.

Your cunt, too: the walls hugging his cock, full of his cum – excessively so, nearly bursting with it after he'd buried himself to the hilt and stayed inside just to plug your snug little hole, ensuring that none of it would dribble out after he’d fucked you senseless. He’d given you plenty, more than enough. And it’d been generous of Simon. A gift, really, considering the enormity of the initial request.

Make me yours?

He’d only had one thing to say, just a simple favour in return for doing this, for indulging you. His voice had been hoarse, sandpaper-rough from overuse – your fault entirely – eroded away after being subjected to a whole night's worth of groaning against the shell of your ear and telling you just how fucking good you felt before you'd milked him for everything he was worth with your greedy, pulsing self.

Keep it all in then.

You’d done your best not to clench, but stretched taut around the girth of his cock like that, you'd just wanted to readjust. Not a lot. But the position you'd been in wasn't the most conducive one for this. And you’d shifted – barely, practically inconsequential (or so you’d thought) – to where you wouldn’t have even thought it’d matter except—

It had.

Pushed some of it out, that is. A stream of cum trickling down onto an area of the duvet, staining it – the unfortunate aftermath of your decision to move.

Thas’ a shame. Thought you wanted it. Guess I was wrong.

Simon comes to a stop at the foot of the bed where you're sitting; he towers over you – an intimidating, subduing presence without even having to try. "Had to wash the sheets because you couldn't keep it all in.”

You blink in surprise as your mouth parts slightly in what you're sure must be a dumbfounded expression. Of course, this is nothing new. You were there. Responsible for the incident, apparently. And though it wasn't necessarily your fault, you still feel the need to explain that it was due to factors beyond your control. “There was so much—” (As if it'll help your case.)

But he's never cared much for excuses.

“How ‘m I supposed to finish inside you knowing that you’re just going to waste it?” he asks. It's a rhetorical question, not one that actually requires an answer.

Your chin tips down in a silent apology. There's something heavy sitting in your chest; remorse, you think.

He grips your jaw in his hand, forces you to look at him. “Yeah, love. We’ll fix that. Gonna teach you how to be grateful, how to understand the value in the things I give to you."

𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐀 𝐒𝐋𝐎𝐖 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐂𝐄𝐒𝐒.

He makes you tell him your colors.

You do.

He asks if you know what you’re supposed to get out of this.

You answer that he’s probably going to have to wash the sheets again before you can learn whatever lesson he’s trying to impose on you.

Yeah, that earns you a sharp pinch to the hip.

That massive body of his sinks to the floor, one leg bending down before the other joins it, rough carpet cutting into his knees, undoubtedly. Then, his fingers curl around your legs, blunt digits sinking in – ten identical divots pressed into the flesh. He leaves light indentations with his palms spanning along the sides of your thighs to spread you open while his elbows anchor into the mattress.

Heat blooms across your skin, every surface that he touches and even in the places that he doesn't – white-hot, intentional (and he never does anything without purpose); it sparks a fever that fans out, unfurls. There's no part of you left unaffected. You're growing warmer by a few degrees. Doesn't sound like much, but it's enough to make a noticeable difference if the beads of sweat gathering at the back of your neck are any indication.

And Simon lets out a soft scoff. Cocky. Like he knew what was waiting for him—

You're soaked, absolutely drenched. Cotton panties, sticky –saturated beyond belief. If you looked there yourself, you wouldn't be surprised to find a damp patch on the fabric steadily growing in size.

He's such a sight, too: the contour of his muscles shifting and rippling, all brawn and power – his presence speaking volumes about just who holds the cards right now, undeniably the one in control here; the visual of his stature and build emphasize that. And authority bleeding from the width of his shoulders if not spelled out by his words alone.

"Haven't even touched you, and you're already dripping," he murmurs. "Why?"

Your mouth trips and stutters over your own words the same way your heart trips and stutters over his. "Because you—y-you're..."

His thumbs hook into your panties, slowly peels them away – not an easy feat, damn things are clinging to your cunt – before dragging them down your legs. "Say it, sweetheart. What do you think I'm gonna do to you?"

And your mind is racing, jumping too many steps ahead. "You're going to eat me out?"

Simon stuffs his panties in his back pocket for safekeeping. A souvenir, since there won't be much use for them now. "I'm gonna eat you out," he affirms.

"Mhm, yeah. Want your mouth on me."

"Whether or not you come depends entirely on if I feel like letting you."

"Oh—"

"Spill a single drop, and you don't come tonight," he says, never one to draw out the details. His instructions are concise, uncomplicated. Then, further inquiry. "We clear?"

"Yeah..." you say with a shaky breath before trying to regain some semblance of composure. "Yes."

"Good girl," he purrs low, almost a growl – though you're not quite certain that you deserve the praise yet.

He’s answering to a shrine, beckoned forward by the invitation of a wet cunt and the promise of a taste of your slick. He pauses, takes a brief moment to admire it in his own way, almost reverent as he takes in how your arousal’s smeared everywhere from your folds to your inner thighs (all for him, because of him – isn’t that right?).

But make no mistake, there’s absolutely nothing respectful about the act that comes next. Simon leans, forces his shoulders to hold you open, before he bows his head and he licks; it’s a hungry tongue lapping at the slit, everything terribly hot and wet – the sensation makes you jolt upon first contact because it's too much. So, so much.

And at the same time, not enough.

The feeling spikes along the circuit running from your head to your toes – empty thoughts save for the white static that buzzes in the hollow of your skull, a tingling, prickling paresthesia-sort-of-thing that usually accompanies the high of an orgasm. Except, the irony’s not lost on you in this instance; he’s hardly even begun to wreak havoc on your cunt yet.

Currents zip down your spine, down, further down, everything else collateral damage. No part of you is spared by the overwhelming fervor responsible for it – the initial onslaught of his mouth laying waste at the spread of your entrance.

Every single nerve-ending is on-edge, trigger-sensitive as he sucks, and kisses, and fuck are his groans heavy, bone-deep, the rumble of a thunderstorm gathering in his chest. They radiate from the point of origin where your core’s suffering, reverberating tremors that diffuse out to the rest of you. It makes your skin thrum like a live wire. There’s no hope of staying in a fixed position if he keeps this up. How could you? The odds are zero to none. It isn’t feasible.

You forget your place, can't help but squirm within his iron grip.

Then, Simon; a severe reprimand— "Watch it," he rasps. It’s a lull amidst the incursion, an unplanned interlude. Temporary reprieve (barely) so he can scold you for your inability to follow his instructions.

A low whimper leaves your throat. That's completely out of the question, beyond what you're currently capable of. Easier said than done. "I'm trying—"

"Then try harder."

Despite how weighed down your eyelids feel, you manage to guide your laden gaze south, let it roam over your stomach. The dark, amber liquid in your navel sways; it rocks, sloshes with the tide, a consequence born from the pull and heave of your jarring movements. Exercise caution. This is delicate work – a balancing act. Those thoughts are cloudy.

Your mind is fuzzy, thick, a drunken haze. Buzzed, lightheaded. And everything's off-kilter. But you haven't had a single drop of alcohol. None at all. Couldn’t, because everything's still sitting in your navel right there like it’s supposed to.

Simon dips his head back between your legs, continues to seal his mouth over you, flattening his tongue to lick thick stripes from your entrance to your clit. He doesn't let up, only bringing his face closer, following that same path again and again and again – agonizing – until you're trembling. The noises he’s making, something debauched and bottomless – one wet groan after the other. This isn't for you. It's for him, that much is clear.

You plead anyways, hoping he'll grant you an amnesty that you haven't earned in the least bit, "Need you inside. Anything, just—"

"Sure you can handle it?"

Breathless when you say, "Ah, yeah..."

"We'll see about that," Simon murmurs.

He doesn't believe you.

To be fair, you’re not so sure you do either.

But he's courteous, slips one finger in and lets you clamp around him. And your cunt flutters, welcomes the feeling.

You release a soft moan. “Want more, Si. Feels good."

His face turns to the side, wet nose and chin grazing along your thigh to spread the slick in more places that haven't been drenched yet. Then he bites. Gentle. An admonishment. Nothing serious about it though: scraping, the light pressure of teeth sinking into the skin as he pulls with his mouth.

You jerk suddenly before catching yourself.

"Don't be fuckin' greedy. You'll take what I give you, and you'll thank me for it." He's curt, perfunctory. No delay as he offers up his two fingers to your mouth. The expectation is clear. “Suck.” And he's waiting.

You wrap your lips around them, swallowing him down, not one to squander an opportunity sitting in front of you, right? You understand that now.

“So tell me how good you taste.”

"I-um, taste good—"

"Yeah, you fuckin' do."

"Thank you."

“Mhm.”

You can't see it, but you can hear it: the low clinking of a belt being unbuckled, the sound of a zipper being undone. Clinking metal and rustling denim being tampered with somewhere below your line of sight as he reaches down, almost like he— is he… oh.

Most of his body's obscured by the edge of the bed, but everything from the chest up is still visible. Simon's shoulder is bobbing slightly, arm pumping back and forth in a rhythmic motion and fuck, he's getting himself off to this.

That sends another spark of arousal to your core, makes you gush. It adds to the mess coating his jaw, his chin, his lips. You whimper out something – broken syllables – his name, maybe. You’re not entirely sure.

God, you’re almost there. So close. Wound up tight, hips rolling against his mouth, chasing his tongue—

Until he stops entirely. No contact. Simon pulls away in such a rush that you gasp, startled.

"Look at that." Accusatory.

It's a trail of liquor dribbling over the curve of your stomach, down your side in small rivulets. There are streaks pooling onto the sheets underneath you. Tragic.

(Couldn't help yourself, huh?)

Guilty as charged.

Shit.

"What'd I say – told you to hold still, yeah?"

And even though you had a feeling it would happen, you still have the nerve to act surprised at the result. "Fuck," you whine pathetically. "Was so close—"

"We're starting over. Don't care if it takes us all night, we're gonna keep at this 'til you get it right or you use up the rest of the whiskey," he says, readying himself to deposit another pour of alcohol into your navel. Simon lifts his shoulder in a light shrug like he can't be bothered about the final outcome. "Better pray that it works out before the bottle’s empty. Won't let you finish otherwise, sweetheart. Understand?"

[ivelle-serenity]

Skateboard 5

Wind breaker

fem bodied reader | smut | action | pwp | jayjo/fml | vinny/fml | wooin/fml | joker/fml | hyuk/fml | owen/fml | enemies to lovers | angsty | the other woman (?) | reverse harem | fluff | SLOW BURN! | all characters featured are 18+

author's note: i'm sorry if you're being impatient for smut, trust me, I was too. I just need the fml to interact with the boys. They say slow burn is at its finest.

✧˖° — windbreaker men

✧˖° — mdni, smut, description of not safe for work content.

✧˖° — this is a story not one shot.

Jay followed my instructions, his movements more fluid this time. "Like this?" he asked, glancing at me for confirmation.

"Exactly," I said, smiling. "You're getting it."

For a moment, we were both silent, just standing there, him on his bike and me beside him. The tension from earlier seemed to melt away, replaced by a comfortable understanding.

"Thanks for the tip," Jay said, breaking the silence again.

"You're welcome," I replied, feeling a bit more at ease. "Just remember to keep your elbows wide and your grip firm. It'll help you stay balanced."

Jay nodded.

As we rejoined the rest of the group, I couldn't help but feel a sense of accomplishment. Interacting with Jay had been nerve-wracking, but it also felt surprisingly natural. Maybe joining their crew wouldn't be so bad after all.

I bit my lower lip as I realized June, Dom, Minu, Yuna, and Mia had been watching us the entire time. I felt so embarrassed! They must have been surprised, especially after our training where we warmed up with a 180km bike ride from the city to the countryside. It was exhausting, but I enjoyed it with them.

After our training, I noticed Jay practicing the tips I gave him, so I went over to help. But I didn’t expect the rest of the crew to be watching us!

"Wow, you're getting close to the foreigner. How come you always attract foreign girls?" June laughed, crossing his arms. Jay ignored him, continuing to drink his water.

"Damn, good thing Demitra can speak Korean. That blue-haired girl, I couldn’t understand a word she said!" Dom complained while wiping his sweat.

Blue-haired girl? That sounds familiar.

"You know her too?" Jay asked quietly from beside me, though I knew his friends were listening.

"Nah, I don't think so," I forced a smile. He looked at me for a long moment, as if trying to gauge the truth.

Minu cleared his throat. "We noticed you were teaching Jay. It seems you know a lot of biking skills?" he asked. Mia nodded in agreement.

I looked down at my bike, balancing without holding the handlebars. "Just a few," I said. Dom gave me a doubtful look. "I used to love doing tricks on ramps." I added.

"You're talking about the ramps at the skatepark?" June asked, eyes wide with shock.

I rubbed the back of my head, feeling embarrassed. "Yeah, that's my specialty."

Mia's jaw dropped. "If I'm not mistaken, are you one of those bicycle riders who do tricks in the air? Like spinning around?" she asked, stunned. I nodded.

"That's dangerous, right?" Dom asked June, who nodded in disbelief while looking at me.

"But of course, I don't use those in tournaments. Actually, I don't do those tricks much anymore. I'm more into sprint riding, like what Dom does," I explained, looking at Dom. Jay adjusted his posture, clearly interested.

"You also know some techniques for sprint riding?" Jay asked, and everyone looked at him. I laughed softly.

"Maybe a little?"

"You're just being humble," Yuna gave me a sharp look.

"Isn't it unfair that you’re teaching Jay but not us?" Dom said dramatically. Jay avoided his gaze and got on his bike.

"Well, I would love to help you—"

"It's too late. We need to go home now," Jay interrupted, making me widen my eyes.

"What!? Oh come on, man! Don't be so selfish!"

"What do you mean 'we'? Are you taking Demitra with you?" Minu clarified, locking eyes with Jay as if they were having a silent conversation.

I remembered our last conversation before the training session. Jay had offered to help me with my Korean literature studies. I even asked him where we’d study since it wasn't allowed at my place! Plus, I've never brought a guy to my apartment; my roommates might assume Jay is my boyfriend. How embarrassing would that be? Thankfully, he volunteered his place since he’s not allowed to stay out late either.

"He’s going to help me with Korean literature and history." I interjected into their conversation.

Mia chuckled. "You seem to learn quickly, judging by how well you speak Korean! I know you can do it."

"Just the two of you?" Minu asked Jay seriously. Jay looked at him without any emotion, but I could feel a strange tension.

"It won’t take long! Don’t worry!" I quickly added.

"Well, good luck, Demitra! Jay isn't the best teacher, you might give up halfway!" Dom laughed.

I noticed Jay had already started biking, so I hurriedly got on my bike and waved at everyone. "See you tomorrow!" I called out cheerfully before following Jay, who was ahead of me. I pouted. Why was he in such a hurry?

I followed Jay because I didn't know where his house was. He was quiet, but I guess that’s normal for him. I couldn’t believe Shelly liked this type of guy. It was very unusual for her.

I was deep in thought when we arrived at a large house. My jaw dropped in shock at how big his house was. Was this where he lived? Wow, he must be rich.

"Just park your bike here," he said, snapping me out of my thoughts. I nodded and did as he said, parking my bike next to his.

Without another word, he walked inside. I bit my lip nervously. Was he not going to invite me in? It felt awkward just walking in unannounced. What if his parents were inside?

I was startled when Jay came back. "What are you still standing there for? Come in," he said before turning away. I pouted.

"Who’s with you, Jay?" I was surprised to see a small boy wearing glasses. He seemed just as surprised to see me, his cheeks turning red. "W-Who..."

"Turn off the TV if you’re not watching," Jay told him. He went into what I assumed was his room, leaving the door open. Was that where we’d study?

"It's nice to meet you, Jay's brother. Hi! I'm Demitra!" I introduced myself, holding out my hand. Jay’s brother just stared at me, his face red. I frowned and forced a smile.

It was so awkward because Jay's brother didn't say a word. He was just staring at me like he was looking through my soul. I forced a smile. "I'll head in now," I said awkwardly before walking into Jay's room.

"Your brother is weird," I said to Jay, setting my bag on the table. I watched as Jay organized his things.

He didn’t respond, instead handing me three books, one of which was a dictionary. I frowned at the books.

"What is this?"

"A dictionary," he said, as if stating the obvious.

"Yes, I know it's a dictionary. What's it for?" I raised an eyebrow. "I’m struggling more with Korean literature and history than the language itself."

His expression didn’t change. "Your Korean isn’t that good," he stated. My jaw dropped. "Maybe that’s why you can't understand our lessons about history."

"Hey, take that back! You understand what I’m saying! Even your friends!"

He shook his head. "It’s lame. I can barely understand you."

I dramatically held my chest. "Whatever, no offense, but Japanese is easier to learn than Korean."

"I agree."

I couldn’t believe this guy! I let out a sharp breath before sitting down. The contents of the books were overwhelming. This was harder than physics. Why did I end up in Korea? I glanced at Jay, who was staring at his phone.

"Are you going to teach me or not?" I raised an eyebrow at him. He looked at me boredly.

"Read that first."

"How can I read it if I don’t understand it?" I said sarcastically.

He stared at me for a moment before sighing and putting his phone down. He took the dictionary from my hands and replaced it with a larger book.

"Start with the basics," he said. When I opened the book, my jaw dropped. It was the Korean alphabet!

"Oh, come on, I already know some of these."

"Some? Then you should know all of these," he said, placing the book on the table. I cursed inwardly.

"Now I understand why Dom said you’re a terrible teacher," I grumbled, starting to read. As usual, he didn’t respond.

"How did you get a girlfriend when you’re this quiet?" I muttered while reading. "Huh?" I glared at him.

"It’s none of your business."

I rolled my eyes. "I heard you’re a player. How come Shelly doesn’t get jealous?" I teased without looking at him.

"Those are just rumors."

I laughed softly and continued reading. I glanced at Jay, who was now looking at his phone. Without his glasses, I realized how handsome he was. His mullet haircut suited him. No wonder many girls liked him.

Besides being handsome, he was good at biking and wasn’t very talkative. Some girls might prefer a quiet guy as a boyfriend, thinking there’s less chance he’d cheat because he’s so reserved.

My heart almost stopped when he looked up, and our eyes met.

"If you keep staring at me, you should just go home."

I rolled my eyes at him. "Is this how you treat girls? So rude," I muttered. "I was just about to ask you something about what I’m reading, but never mind."

He cleared his throat. "Show me. Where are you having trouble?" He must have heard my muttering.

"Forget it. I just remembered the internet exists. I’ll search for the meaning," I said, grabbing my phone.

He was silent for a moment.

"That’s a consonant. It refers to a double s," he suddenly said. My eyes widened when I realized how close our faces were. He had leaned in to look at the book. I could literally feel my heart racing. I was still distracted by how close our faces were to each other, so I didn't even notice what I had searched on my phone.

"Too late, I already looked it up," I whispered.

"You shouldn’t use your phone while studying."

"Well, genius, if you were a better teacher, I wouldn’t need to."

I continued reading, trying to push away my distraction. I couldn't help but feel Jay's gaze on me, and the thought of our eyes meeting again made me too embarrassed to look up. Is this what it's like when you like someone? I sighed and tried to focus on what I was reading.

As I went through the Korean alphabet, it felt more familiar, like I was revisiting what I had studied before deciding to come to Korea. It refreshed my memory. Maybe the reason I struggled with Korean history was that I had forgotten the correct way to read their language.

"Vinny..." My forehead creased at the name. "You know him? You’re friends with the Sabbath?" Jay suddenly asked.

And now I was doomed.

"No, I'm not, especially Vinny. He hates me."

He paused, clearly puzzled. "But he said you’re his friend."

"No, he’s just bluffing," I said with irritation.

"They are dangerous. You should stay away from them."

Well, it's too late. Even if I wanted to, I couldn't just walk away now. Wooin helped with my parents' debt. I can't just abandon him. Even though I'm confused about why he did it, I still choose to serve them.

"Are you saying your friend is dangerous?" I asked seriously.

Jay didn't respond, his expression unreadable. I know he is old friends with Vinny. So why would he warned me from him?

I sighed, feeling the weight of the situation. "Look, I know it's risky, but I owe them. Wooin helped my family when no one else could. I can't just turn my back on that."

Jay's eyes flickered with something I couldn't quite identify—concern, maybe? But he remained silent, his gaze steady on mine.

Finally, Jay spoke, his voice softer. "Just be careful."

I nodded, appreciating his concern. "Worried for me? Aw," I teased. "I didn't expect you to have this side to you." I continued to tease, but he remained serious, shaking his head. I couldn't help but laugh, knowing he was probably feeling embarrassed by my comments.

Actually, studying with Jay isn't as bad as I thought it would be. I expected him to give me a hard time, but it seems like it's just his personality to be reserved. I suddenly paused. What if he isn't really like this, especially with Shelly?

Oh, come on, Demitra. Why should I care about that? I frowned, feeling irritated with myself.

I was jolted from my thoughts by a knock on the door. Jay stood up to answer it, and I almost froze when I saw a middle-aged woman. From her appearance, she looked like Jay's mother! I quickly stood up and bowed.

"Good evening, Ma'am," I greeted her. She gave me a cold look. Now it made sense why Jay always had that cold expression on his face. He inherited it from his mom.

"You didn't eat dinner again?" she said sternly. I looked at Jay, confused, but his face remained emotionless.

"We're studying," he replied shortly.

"You didn't eat breakfast, and I know you didn't eat lunch at school either," his mother said angrily, but she paused when she noticed me.

"Let's talk in the living room."

"I'm fine. Just leave," Jay said.

"Jaehyun," his mother said firmly, leaving Jay with no choice but to get up. I was left alone in his room.

My heart pounded with worry about what I had witnessed. Was Jay going to be scolded? Was it because of me that he hadn't eaten dinner? I hadn't eaten dinner either. Damn, maybe it's my fault he missed his meal. His mother should be scolding me, not him!

[onlyseokmins]

$$60 billion (part 2) • l.s.m.

How did a legendary bounty promised for turning in the wasteland's most infamous outlaw transform into a sick, little inside betting joke amongst your traveling companions? Though you have no idea why they're doing it… you sure as hell don't want that very same gunslinger comrade worth sixty billion double dollars to know anything about it either — but oops — looks like he already does! Damn you and your temper, some unhelpful lip-loosening alcohol, and one no-good, sorry excuse of a preacher you sometimes think of as a friend.

Pairing: outlaw!lee seokmin x fem!reader Genres: smut (minors dni!), trigun!au, action!au, apocalyptic/post-apocalyptic!au, space western!au, slight enemies to comrades to ??? !au, angst, fluff, they're dumbasses your honor 🙏 Warnings: swearing, blood, guns, injuries, medical tingz, destruction, mentions of knives, violence, unsettling space western things, slight body horror and hints at altered dna, weird religious cults, mentions of eating/food, alcohol, threats, bets among friends, tame-ish alien/monster/plant sex (????? listen it'll make sense - think of him like howl's bird form on steroids idk), mating, possessiveness!, marking, bruising, jealousy, smelling/scent kink???, wet messy sex uwu, wing kink (??? listen i was gonna explore it more but decided not to ok??), BITING (bc it's me), mechanical/robotic fingering???, gagging, bulge kink, oral sex (explicit male receiving and brief fem. receiving), seokmin's dick is like SLOPPY TOPPY LORGE w/ a mind of it's own, lowkey forgot how to write smut sorry </3 WC: 13.2k of 32.7k | Part 1 | Read on AO3 A/N: this is for the Now that's 90's - A Seventeen collab and loosely based off/inspired by the Trigun anime/manga! You do not need to know it as I manipulated a whole lot of elements for my own narrative but beware of various spoilers if you do go ahead and check out the series after reading!! I hope everyone enjoys the conclusion and please check out the other writers in this amazing collab ❤️PS, I know nothing abt chess lmaooooo but let me know your thoughts and feel free to ask any questions regarding this au's intricacies!! This part might get a little confusing because of a flashback!! (starts right after the italicized paragraph and ends with "...in this moment...")

The silence is palpable.

"Does it hurt more to get stabbed in the back or shot?"

Only the continual rustling sound answers your philosophical question. Not that you actually care because you weren't really expecting a reply.

So, you keep talking.

"I think it would be more painful to get stabbed… but it would take longer to heal from a gunshot wound."

There's a brief pause in the motions behind you. But the quiet resumes, though the practiced skill of a needle threading through your skin quickens. While the local anesthetics Tonim's doctor supplied is doing its job for the most part, you swear you can still feel the tug of flesh being sewn together.

Or maybe you're just thinking too hard.

"Look. I'm… I'm sorry."

If tension could personify itself right at this moment, it would do so with ease, given how heavy its presence currently sits in the room. A low voice finally speaks up, gravely and roughened after such a long period of silence and the hairs on your neck rise.

"Are you really?"

"… Yes."

A heavy sigh — one burdened with all the worries of the world — follows. You wince and then tremble, wishing you could turn around. It's easy to guess what he's thinking but god, do you wish you could see his face to confirm. The fear of the unknown paralyzes you.

"I seriously am."

"Doubtful. I know you only asked me that question to subtly say you'll be okay and heal just fine but it's not that simple."

The callousness in his tone and the sharp way he says your first name makes you want to shrink down, shrivel up, and quite frankly die on the spot. Gritting your teeth, you succumb to the apparent silent treatment until the snip of scissors signifies your surgeon has finished treating you.

You think twice about your options upon hearing the click-clack of medical supplies being put back into the first aid kit. Then you think, "fuck it!", and use your good arm to keep the fabric of a spare t-shirt pressed against your chest and shift so you can face the man who just rather aggressively threw a handful of unused alcohol prep pads back into their designated slot.

"I'm super duper, utterly, and truly apologetic, Seok."

The gunslinger heaves another grand exhale of irritation. He doesn't even so much as glance at you, frowning sourly down at the roll of gauze in his hands instead. The temptation to reach out and touch him — soothe him — is strong but you decide against that (for various reasons) and resort to huffily pouting instead. Amazingly it seems to work, because he notices right away and folds way too easily without much of your sway, finally facing you with a reluctant but serious expression.

"Then what did you learn?"

Your gaze lowers, eyelashes fluttering while you drown in your feelings of shame and wrack your brain. The urge to toy with the silver chain around your neck is strong though you resist the tick and hesitantly answer instead.

"Um, that I need to fortify my mental block better?"

"Try again."

"Uh…"

"How about the way you're not supposed to play the hero?"

The tin of the trauma kit rattles as Seokmin slams his left hand down on the bed, leaning menacingly toward you. Though narrowed, his eyes seem to glow. You can't help but whimper at the intense ire dancing in those irises paired with his sharp tone. Like the desert's suns, it simmers and radiates off of him with rays of heat that you can easily feel given how close he is.

"I'm, I'm sorry!"

"No, you're not," he states sharply though the rigidness in his body relaxes after your squeak of another apology. "You almost died!"

You'd defiantly cross your arms if you could. "Between the two of us, you were most at risk of dying."

"Was not! And we both know my chances of injury are much, much lower than yours."

"You can't lecture me and flex your stupid powers this time! It's different 'cause Jihooon was fuckin' with my mind."

The harsh bitterness is more so directed at yourself and the damned Crimsonnail than Seokmin. But as usual, you vent all your frustrated emotions out on him, especially whenever he brings up the fragility of your mortality. You both stare stubbornly into each other's eyes, thinking back to what happened and what could've happened.

Lina's protected. The Tonim residents were all immobilized. Seungcheol, Seungkwan, and Mingyu are in good spirits. You are safe.

A burst of air rushes into Seokmin's lungs, relief filling him as he idly scans your figure for injuries. Casually reloading his revolver just in case, he beams as you approach. The mirrored expression of victory on your face accompanied by a hand reaching out causes his whole body to shudder in pleasure. There's nothing he'd like more than to intertwine his fingers with yours.

Instead, he settles for returning your enthusiastic fist bump. Nudging his shoulder against yours, Seokmin chirps out, "Good job, partner!"

"Partner?"

"Yeah, partners."

You shake your head like you can't believe him, amusement tilting up the corners of your lips. He wants to tell you everything, all of it. But his ears catch the faint click of a contraption behind him and he looks over his shoulder just in time to see Jihoon's crossbow assemble.

Joshua looks mightily displeased but makes no effort to put a stop to the Crimsonnail's actions. Seokmin can only thank his lucky stars that Soonyoung remains in a catatonic state. Dealing with a ginormous worm so soon after being in its stomach a couple days ago was not appealing in the slightest.

The fingers of his prosthesis splay out, cybernetic arm lowered and extended outwards in front of you as you turn around as well. He knows you hate unwarranted protection but you'll have to forgive his instincts this time. Nevertheless, he trusts you. And as Jihoon opens fire, Seokmin leaps into action, expecting you to do the same — only to do a double-take when you don't move despite a flurry of nails breaching the air.

Your eyes remain unfocused. Glazed over and cloudy, posture tense but still. He sneaks observatory looks your way from afar while firing Geranium. Round after round, breaking nail after nail to prevent any harm befalling you. A maniacal laughter rings out and Seokmin freezes, putting two and two together.

Then he snarls.

Jihoon must've sicced his killing intent — a nasty ability to project and create illusions of destruction in someone and break their will — on you. Cursing, he starts making his way closer to you, inwardly reaching out to you and begging that you'll break free of the blonde-haired man's clutch on your psyche.

You're obviously more than capable. He knows this. But your movements are sluggish, slowly releasing Sirocco from your grasp. The empty pistol lands on the sand with a muffled thud and Seokmin's pretty sure his heart mimics it. A look of terror and horror spreads across your facial features, surely subject to something awful within the confines of your own mind.

And while you're experiencing visions of things you fear coming true, he's stuck in the vivid reality where they do.

You spin around with a wild look in your eyes — full of rage and anguish. He stumbles back as you teeter one foot at a time toward him and in the distraction, a nail pierces right below your shoulder blade.

Someone wails behind him.

You scream.

Seokmin rushes forward. But he's tackled suddenly to the ground and ends up flat on his back. Completely winded and left with his vision smarting, blinking in confusion at the blurry double halos that definitely shouldn't be around the duo of suns in the sky.

Then your face comes into focus. And god, forget the suns — in all your glory and in all your fierceness, you shine brighter than them all combined — hallucinations be damned.

It takes a bit of wrangling around, given how you try to wrestle and pin the man down. The clunky gun you're waving around goes off several times, harmlessly lodging bullet holes into the sand cushioning around Seokmin's head.

"Stop it, you're gonna hurt yourself!"

Moving and lashing out like a wild animal before it's fully sedated, his words don't come through the hellish haze Jihoon's trapped you in. You pull the trigger with no regard for the injury to your shooting arm.

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

He dutifully counts each round fired, multitasking between that and the effort it takes to contain your struggling movements. Once again, thanks to the overpowered strength of his prosthetic, the man's finally able to sit up with you secured in his arms to cease any further movement.

"Lovely, lovely mayfly," he murmurs. The stable cybernetic hand gently feels around the impaled shoulder while a trembling thumb rubs your abnormally chilled cheek. "C'mon and snap out of it, pretty."

Not a spot of recognition in your blank glare. His eyebrows furrow as cold metal presses in between them. Seungcheol is cursing, Mingyu and Seungkwan are shouting loudly. Jihoon gloats.

But none of that matters. Seokmin drowns all of it out by diving in the pooling depths of your empty irises. Searching, calling, begging. Biting his lip, he delivers a quick slap and pleads, "Come back to me, love."

And like a mist that rises after dawn, you return to him. Your stunned grip on the gun falters, the final bullet rattling in its chambers. The pained expression on your face slices open his own heart but its shredded form takes flight in utter relief.

You're back. You're going to be okay — he'll make sure of it. And even if you don't know it, you're his and he's yours.

"Y-you're dead," you choke out and all he can do is smile despite feeling like he's on the verge of crying. Elation, anger, guilt, hope, longing, worry, joy — all of it turns and tosses within him like a rustling flurry of winged creatures struggling to break free.

So, he smiles at you and grasps the barrel of the old pistol aimed at his forehead. "I know, mayfly."

Jihoon howls in fury. Joshua finally steps forward, striking a military pose with his hands behind his back. Composed as ever, his voice remains its deceptively sweet self compared to the harsh jerking movements he's subjected upon the gray-eyed man via telepathy.

"You've crossed the line, lost number thirteen."

"Don't call me that!"

It's no surprise that the pecking order in Dokyeom's henchmen sowed seeds of dissent. Though Joshua was simply a right-hand man, he remained the only unnumbered member, proving the lack of disposability DK saw in him versus the others.

"Know your place."

"Which has always been at the top! But because of you — !"

" — The top of those already at the bottom, perhaps. Respect your superiors and your orders, Crimsonnail. You were not to lay a hand upon Master Dokyeom's brother. Ever."

"I didn't!"

"Or a member of his little group." His indifferent gaze swept over Seokmin protectively cradling your body. "This voids our involvement and nullifies any further implementations of the game."

Joshua would thank his lucky stars that the humanoid typhoon is letting them leave scotch-free if he was a decent man. Unfortunately, he's not — already considering what punishment to enact upon Jihoon per his master's orders. The Crimsonnail feels a shiver down his spine, further enhanced by Joshua's frosty, disdainful look of disapproval as he telepathically drags Jihoon to the car.

Still, it's a good thing Seokmin's a pacifist by nature, that he's more preoccupied by your well being than anything else. Your brow begins to bead with sweat, the pain of your wound finally sinking in past the adrenaline rush wearing off. Black circles dance in your blurring vision, the gun falling from your grasp as you droop forward and rely on the unerring sureness of his support and the safety within in it.

Seokmin knows he needs to get you medical help right away, and it's the only thing he can focus on. There's no time for exchanging a blow with a blow nor the faintest idea of revenge.

Not yet. Not now. Maybe never if it means putting you in harm's way.

Was he really going to give up following the bloody trail to hold his brother accountable for the unspeakable crimes he's committed? Throw away the blank ticket Rem spoke about? All for one person?

The questions all swirl around in his head like a nebulous mass. And like a newborn star — one that's been long in the making — the answer is crystal clear and shining bright as you sit in front of him now looking devastatingly beautiful to him despite all that's happened. Most importantly, you're safe.

But all he can say in this moment aloud is, "I'm sorry."

For a multitude of reasons. So many of them. You seem to spot something in his eyes, frowning ever so slightly.

"You don't have to apologize for anything. I'm fine."

"I almost lost you."

"But you didn't."

"…I know. And I'm so fuckin' glad."

Seokmin runs his fingers in a distressed manner through dusty, matted strands of reddish-brown strands. Immediately drawing attention to the dirt, grime, and dried blood coating and dulling the cybernetic's buzzing glow.

"That's gonna be a pain in the ass to clean."

He appreciates the subject change, shooting you a lopsided grin. "Yeah, tell me 'bout it."

"Let me help."

You get up before he can protest. A tactical way to coerce him into worrying about helping you rather than arguing. The coy part of yourself is applauding the method, especially when the calloused flesh of his palm splays against the bare skin of your lower back in the name of support as you both walk to the bathroom.

That same part whispers naughty temptations to drop the t-shirt covering your chest, press up against him, and see his reaction. But your reasonable, reserved side is too held up on various other matters to give in.

Sadly, you find out you can't offer as much assistance as you would've liked. But Seokmin seems heartened by just seeing you up and about and close to him. Plus, you make use of your idleness while he washes in the sink by reaching for the few stocked amenities you can reach with your good shoulder above it when he asks for them. And you receive a heartfelt smile in return.

"I probably should've just showered."

You shrug. "You still could."

"Nah, it's fine, I can do it later. What about you, though? You're going to need help with those stitches."

"What a roundabout way to say you want to bathe together, Seok. You could've just asked."

Maybe you expected him to splutter nervously or protest fiercely at the tease. You certainly don't expect him to just shake his head — silver earring flashing in the vanity's dull lighting — and chuckle.

"I'm being serious, goof. Besides, it's not the first time I've seen you in the tub."

"What?" you squawk and his grin doesn't falter. In fact, it turns into a smirk.

"I'll go get Sherry. Lina's gonna want to see you too, she wouldn't stop crying about her pretty savior getting hurt."

You frown. Was he still going to dodge The Talk™? And did he think you were really just going to him out of your clutches that quickly?

"We still need to chat. You promised."

His eyes flash. "… And you don't like promises."

Yes, that was exactly why. He knew your history. Still, you refused to back down.

"No, I don't. But I like you… and, and most of all, I trust you. I just want the truth, Seok. Even if you think it'll hurt me, at least be honest. Trust me back. I promise it'll make it less painful if you tell me why you thought I wasn't serious. So, please…"

Don't let me down.

It's unspoken, but he can clearly hear it in your tone. A battle-worn sigh escapes so you try to lead him and finish with a question where he can give a more straightforward answer.

"… How long have you known? About the bet, I mean."

Despite wavering between semi-alertness and bordering the edge of losing consciousness, you're aware of Sheryl's presence as she bustles around with Seungkwan and Mingyu to clear out an empty room above the saloon temporarily used for patients. Seungcheol waits outside the door with you two, a cigarette loosely dangling from his lips.

When Sheryl leaves, she sneaks a peek at the way your face buries into Seokmin's neck, how the man carefully assesses the rest of your body for injuries. His touch is gentle, the cybernetic arm coated in blood as it holds the nail in you steady. He'd been adamant about being the one — the best one — to treat you. Smiling, she hands Seungcheol a couple of double dollars and the pastor raises an inquiring eyebrow.

"For that little game of yours," the woman whispers knowingly and gestures to the two who just exited the room and Seokmin hurriedly heads inside. "They told me all about it."

You lift your head to glare at Seungcheol and then your other comrades as you pass, wondering if this was some sick form of revenge for pulling one on him and if Sheryl was so keen to set you up with someone in the same way pompously done for her. But your shoulder feels like it's on fire so rather than reprimand your stupid, back-stabbing friends and slump back wearily against Seokmin.

He's a simple man who certainly can't hide a silly smile at the unconventional snuggling. Lifting his chin, he then tilts his head questioningly to the money in Seungcheol's hands. "You're still doing that bet?"

"Haf'ta win the lasses 'n hopeless romantics over 'n have 'em rootin' fer ya."

"Y-you know about the bet?"

Seokmin hushes you with a low murmur, words muffled by the press of his lips to the crown of your head. You can't make out what he says, but the timbre is soothing enough that your eyes close.

"Gotta make that sixty billion somehow if we're not turnin' ya ass in."

"Fair enough!" The wanted man laughs and closes the door with his foot.

His cheerful demeanor then dropped to focus on the proper procedures to treat your wound and that's when the silence settles in, soon followed by the weighing air of unresolved tension between you. And now, you're continuing the determined path to fully speed-run ahead and break it, though he shrugs nonchalantly at the question.

"Known for a while, to be honest."

"Seriously? I thought it was a secret!"

"C'mon, you know how bad Cheol is at keeping them."

"Yeah, right," you roll your eyes. "That man takes things to the grave — literally!"

"You're too hard on him." Seokmin leans toward you, bracing himself with an arm supported by the sink and brown eyes sparkling with humor. "Think about how much you've learned about him."

"Against my will, too much…"

"Which means I'm right."

"… I guess you do make a fair point."

"Of course. He's a completely open book once you peel back that damn protective hardcover of his."

Still, you sniff disdainfully and frown. "I swear, you're the only one who sees him like that."

"Like what?"

"Like…. unafraid, unconcerned, unbothered by all that he is, all that he's done, et cetera."

"Why not? He's done the same for me. Besides, I've said it before but he has those eyes, you know. Kind."

Ah, and that's what gets you to resign with a small grin. It's just like Seokmin to see only the good in people.

"And you're not all that different," he continues with a broad, knowing smile. Immediately you bristle and he clarifies, "from me." Some part of you momentarily wonders if you spoke your thoughts aloud or if he just simply knows them that well. "As loath as you are to admit it, you care for him. Most importantly, you trust him."

Though your face sours at the thought, you don't retort right away. Sure, Seungcheol is a trusted ally. And maybe the motivation to free Jeonghan from the control of the Eye of Joshua wasn't solely because it was simply the right thing to do. But also because it might brighten the dull spark and leave one less bloodstain on the hand of a man who bore the burdensome weight of all sins like a cross on his shoulders.

Then you wave away those thoughts for now. "So, is that why you thought I wasn't serious on how I feel about you. 'Cause of the bet?"

"No, because I never knew the full extent of it. But… if you're saying it had to do with your feelings, then I would have to say yes — though I find it hard to believe any bet's worth my bounty."

"Oh." Your cheeks heat at unwittingly giving it away.

Seokmin smirks when you avoid his gaze, and he moves in even closer. "No one has sixty billion double dollars just lying around, mayfly."

"You're just saying that so no one turns you over to July."

"Well, you won't do it, will you?"

"You don't know that," you fire back, intending to heighten your defenses that only weakly falter because you're still not looking at him.

"But I do."

"Yeah? Prove it!"

Ooh, a challenge.

And one more step closer.

"Because you care too much about the man you like to put him behind bars."

Your eyes dart back to meet his, ready to squint reproachfully only to widen at how the gunslinger's face is only a breadth away from yours. Breath hitching, you desperately want to whine out in irritation but it comes out in a low whimper. Seokmin's canines flash in the bathroom's dim lighting.

"That's not, that's not fair." The wall pressing into your bare back keeps you from retreating and the hand keeping the t-shirt covering your chest feels how your heartbeat speeds up. Your skin is on fire, only the cool temperature of your locket and its chain preventing you from utterly exploding after the plaintive admission of, "You already know everything. But…"

"But…?"

The unconscious action of biting into your lower lip only gets realized by the way it keenly draws Seokmin's eyes. Electric blue flashes against brown irises yet they darken to almost black with the sudden thrill of desire that rises to the surface. He's so close, you can feel his breath caress your face, and you swear you hear it deepen into a low grunt before he raises a brow for you to continue.

"But… b-but I don't know…a single… thing."

Seokmin has forever believed Rem's take regarding the ticket to the future always being blank. For him, it's always been an unknown path forward that he's let lead him wherever and to whatever destination.

He holds himself back, just enough to utter the (practically what should be unneeded) words of reassurance, "It could only ever be you — and it's always been only you — that I could be in love with so much, mayfly," and then he's eliminating the meager distance between the two of you. For the first time, he stamps that blank ticket with an assuredness of the future and outcome he's never had before — with a kiss.

Cradling the back of your head with his cybernetic prosthesis, the other cups your cheek and then trails down to your collarbones — but no further than appropriate. His mouth, though, disregards the very notion. A teasing tongue repeatedly runs across your bottom lip to smooth out the indents caused earlier by your teeth then naughtily pokes and prods its way between, eliciting a sweet gasp from you he absolutely devours.

Your whole body shudders with happiness, eagerly surrendering to the man's wild, possessive fervor as he passionately steals the breath out of your lungs and stakes his claim on you by leaving behind shiny kiss-bitten lips. Seokmin only draws away, panting, to admire his handiwork, light-headed and dizzy with delight.

"I love you," he reconfirms with his forehead resting against yours and nose tickling your own, "… partner."

Breathlessly, you joke back after placing a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth. "Love you too, partner."

And that was that.

With your shoulder injury on the mend and the other members of your little ragtag group nursing their own bumps and bruises, you all decided to spend one more night in Tonim — much to Lina's delight. While she merrily bounced from one 'hero' to the next, you playfully reminded Wonwoo that he still owed you some free drinks. You were eager to take advantage of the fact and he was more than willing to accommodate.

The tavern that originally held a subdued, slightly hostile air to it when you first arrived was now filled with an unfettered joyous harmony. You're so easily swept up in the ambiance of such high spirits and jubilant townsfolk as mug ales filled to the brim get passed around and clinked together, you fail to notice Seokmin's sudden withdrawn nature.

Not until the next morning do you first realize something's off.

"You're sure about this?"

"Oh, no. Not you too, Seok."

You'd already flipped off and shoved away a complaining, terribly hungover Seungcheol and finally got rid of the watchful, fretting gazes of Seungkwan and Mingyu. The duo had been hovering around you with concern ever since you downed a full glass of alcohol last night. While you generally just let them be and were quite thankful not to wake up with a pounding headache, you certainly weren't above crushing all of Mingyu's pudding cups if he meekly asked one more time if you were okay or needed help.

Seokmin leans against the open door frame as you pack. The pulsating glow of lost technology flickers in your peripheral and keeps you aware of his quiet presence. Part of you had always wondered if the ever-running currents of lighting synced with the flow of blood through the rest of his body.

The gunslinger doesn't speak, and you wonder why. And though you'd like to flatter yourself and entertain the notion that he's watching you — while other times that may be true — you don't feel the weight of his eyes trained on your motions. It wasn't like there was much to stuff in your bag, the satchel's leather cracked, faded, and well-worn after all these years of use through the desert and everything you truly value remains strapped some way to your body. So once you're finished, you inquisitively peek over in his direction.

Brown eyes are trained on the clunky gun on the mattress — the same one you'd pressed against his head. It's also the exact same pistol Chan had spent his adolescence restoring and repairing. Left unnamed unlike the honorary grave Seokmin had helped you prep before leaving the ruins of Ivywood behind. Meanwhile, his gaze darts to linger in contemplation on the chain around your neck before his eyebrows furrow, emphasizing the drawn out features and dark circles beneath his eyes.

"You look tired, you doing okay?"

"Yeah, just haven't been… sleeping well."

Frowning, you step toward him. Although he doesn't back away, his entire posture stiffens. "Will you be able to make the journey?"

He snorts, gesturing to your shoulder you're trying not to move too much. "Isn't that what I'm supposed to be asking you?"

"I'll feel better at the border."

Seokmin nods understandingly. "The weather will align well."

Within the sandstorms that relentlessly swirl near the Melca Border Sea of Sand, hides the only SEEDS floating ship that survived the Great Fall and you have to get the timing just right to reach it. It's home to a large community of humans, and most importantly, it's what you would consider a true home to you and Seokmin. Already, your energy restores — excited at the prospect of getting to relax in a place you trust and people you truly enjoy being around.

"Jun can take a look at my shoulder."

"That's true, it would be good for him to do."

"And I'm sure Hao's going to want to check your arm, maybe fashion some fabric that's not only bulletproof but also nail-proof."

"He's gonna give us both a scolding."

"Wouldn't be the first time."

You share a look of fond chagrin. Even though Seokmin's well over a century older than Juhui and Minghao, they were direct Earth descendants aboard a ship full of lost technology and geniuses in their own right. Those facts alone gave them all the confidence and utter audacity to more often than not, act like fretting toma mothers over the two of you.

Nonetheless, you appreciated them with all that's remaining of your heart.

The trip to the Melca Border wasn't a straight shot from Tonim but it wasn't as far as you thought. A bittersweet farewell to Wonwoo, Lina, Sherry, and the rest of the townsfolk was to be expected. Though their sorrow weighed you down, the knowledge that you were parting from them with good memories and the expectations to visit again kept your steps light-footed.

Seokmin remains zoned out the entire time. You bulk it up to his normal reaction whenever something emotional was on the horizon. Returning to Melca held a grand spread of wonderful, warm memories with a scattering of dreadfully sad ones too. Though the floating ship's defenses have been bolstered to the max over the years, the terrible events weren't easy to forget.

But they were incidents in the past and it's thanks to the intellect of the two who greet you at the entrance of the ship that their defenses continue to improve. Luida proudly stands behind them, accompanied by Brad and his wife.

"Greetings, weary travelers."

"We're no strangers, Luida," Seokmin protests against her formality.

The elderly leader's playful grin smooths out the wrinkles lining her wise face. "Welcome home, children."

It's a simple phrase but one that fills you with inexplicable warmth. Hansol might be the son born of her own body, but no one is immune from her maternal instinct. She beckons for everyone to come inside where the main quarters lie and the growing crew population will certainly be enthusiastic upon hearing about your return.

Seungcheol, Mingyu, and Seungkwan trail after without fuss, also elated to be aboard the familiar floating ship. You smile with genuine delight and step forward to follow while Minghao takes one look over his wire-rimmed glasses to survey Seokmin's dusty figure and elegantly tilts his head knowingly in the hallway leading to the technology laboratory. Glittery, colorful beads woven through the long strands of his two-toned hair clink in time with the movement.

It's hard to hide the snicker that escapes as you watch Seokmin trudge after Minghao like a scolded puppy. Your glee at someone else's suffering doesn't last long when a gentle hand clasps your shoulder. Wincing at the pain, you meet Junhui's puzzled look before his eyes narrow.

"You're hurt," he says, disappointed but not surprised, and leads you away to the med bay. It's exactly what you expected, in fact, the main reason behind why you're here — and yet, you sulk and whine petulantly just because you can.

"Not my fault that the only way to get here is by timing everything right to jump into a sandstorm and then onto a flying platform."

After instructing you to lie down on the medical bed and cutting the fabric of your shirt without fanfare, Junhui clicks his tongue. "You only come to visit when you're hurt."

"Not true!"

He concentrates on disinfecting and resewing the torn stitches in the tender flesh around the parts of your wound that are still healing. His tone borders on slight resentment but the concern weighing in it smoothes it all over.

"And yet most of our time spent together is only when you visit so I can patch you up."

"It's not like that."

"I know… but I would've met you elsewhere."

"Boring."

"Can't you courteously pretend to care about yourself out of consideration for those who worry?"

"You'll go gray at such a very young age if you stress all the time, Jun."

He shakes away silver bangs that threaten to impede his vision, unamused. "And you'll end up buried under the sand next time."

"Sounds cozy."

"I swear —"

You wave his growing ire away. "Seok takes care of me just fine."

"Yes," Junhui's cat-like smile causes your metaphorical hackles to raise. "He does care deeply about you."

"I'll punt you into the fifth moon and give it a second crater with your body."

"Now, now… violence is never the answer."

"Violence is the only reason you have a job!"

If you weren't as close as you were, perhaps he'd be offended by your claim. Instead, he kicks you out (after ensuring you're indeed in relatively good health), leaving you to laugh victoriously. Then, you set off to the technology lab in good spirits, hoping to catch Seokmin and commiserate with him.

Instead, you find a lone Minghao sitting refinedly amongst all the tech with grace and poise. He was in his element. Fiddling with and poking at a well-worn, familiar cybernetic tech with a thin silver instrument, he simply raises an eyebrow to acknowledge your presence.

"Did you fit Seok with a new arm?"

"But of course," the man sighs wearily, "despite my best efforts, my darlings always return home to their father with quite a beating."

"… Then you'll hate what I'm about to tell you."

"No, I cannot fashion you a pierce-proof trench coat. However, I will acquire some stronger material… but there better not be a next time."

You purse your lips and pout. It often seemed like Minghao worried more about his inventions than the people using them, though you knew that to ultimately not be true.

"So, he already told you what happened."

"Oh, yes… he told me everything." Heterochromatic eyes suddenly meet yours, sharp with a spark of amusement. "See, I almost didn't want to give him the latest modification but…"

"But…" You repeat warily.

Junhui was always mischievous, though most of it only ended with harmless pranks. On the other hand, Minghao's sarcasm-filled humor rarely made an appearance, and when it did, it usually delighted in the sickest of satisfactions.

Yet, he simply shrugs, evasive as always. "I think you'll like its improvements."

There's something foreboding about that statement, but he ushers you away under the pretense that he needs to concentrate. And shortly, you find yourself stopped by curious passersby or familiar faces in the hallways to the main quarters. Since your last visit, a multitude of passengers have a lot to share and update you on. By the time you reach your own pod, you're socially exhausted.

Sleep came easy but finding Seokmin did not. The SEEDS ship was already big in the first place and additional construction enlarged it further. An itchy, achy feeling pooled inside your gut on the second evening you'd been unable to catch sight of him. Finally, you acknowledged the bitter truth — he was avoiding you.

You had to come to terms with how delusional it was to think that once everything was out in the open, the scattered puzzle pieces would magically fall together in their rightful places. It should be easy, right? It's what happened in those cheap novels Junhui dug out of an abandoned pod in Melca back in the day. He'd given them to you as a birthday joke — Minghao sighing and handing over your real present (the first bullet-proof trench coat) — but you'd actually read through all the cheesy, steamy piles of romantic drivel.

Seungkwan, ever the cynic, and Seungcheol — who's naturally a heathen — quickly destroyed the slim spark of hope of ever hoping to feel those flutters in your gut. Meanwhile, Mingyu was someone precious and wholesome with a romantic outlook on life underneath the great muscular physique he'd gained from carrying that heavy concussion gun around.

You often wondered why they never tormented him like they did to you. But despite his indomitable stature, the emotionally soft man's tears were the most powerful weapon in his arsenal. Even if he didn't quite realize it, his comrades certainly were aware.

And Seokmin… well, if you knew how Seokmin felt about romance, you wouldn't be stuck in the position of wondering why the fuck he was avoiding you.

Again.

"Where is he?"

"Good morning," Mingyu greets the following morning, cheerful as ever. "If you're still hunting Seokmin for sport, he said he's feelin' a little sick!"

"Sure."

"No, he really is." Seungkwan refutes your aggressive eye roll with a gentle shake of his head. "Loverboy hasn't come out of his room for days and when I almost knocked the door in earlier, he finally responded only to sound like a dying toma."

Your face contorts into a morbid combination of concern and irritation, shifting between the two expressions. "Probably 'cause he stayed out all last night!"

And with a dramatic huff, you glower at the pastor seated in the cramped corner of the floating ship's kitchen area. Seungcheol deemed it was cooler, darker, and the farthest spot in the enclosed space from any of your misplaced wrath. He smiles, the white stick between whiter teeth jollily flicking up and down at you, taunting.

He reveled in the knowledge of being safe since he'd been the only one able to provide any information on the humanoid typhoon's whereabouts. The pastor — who still enjoyed a late-night smoke to cure some of his insomnia — considered it his saving grace to catch sight of the fellow gunslinger slinking through the shadows in the halls. Apparently, Seokmin had been sneaking outside the past few nights and remained resolutely ever-elusive during the day.

"Should go see 'im. Yer all antsy and 'm bettin' he's missin' his… mayfly."

"Oh, go fuck yourself," you snarl and storm out, missing the man's bark of laughter before he continues contemplating the best way to siphon money during a confessional.

The unfaltering stomp of your combat boots is the background beat on your walk to Seokmin's pod. His halls aren't far from the kitchen area and yet each footfall feels like a step into the unknown, the lights above seeming to grow dimmer the closer you get.

Why was he acting like this?

Did he regret everything that happened between you?

Was something wrong?

Would he shut himself away from you?

Worry and anger swirl together, mirroring the vortex of sand you had to pass through to get here. Seokmin's never shut you completely out before but you're familiar with his reclusive acts when things get too much. Too close. Too emotional. And you're afraid to be the catalyst to another spiral.

So, you knock. Harsh, loud, and ultimately unforgiving if ignored.

"Seokmin, open up! I know you're alive!"

A mutter of "Barely," carries through the door before he clearly answers with a curt, "I'm not feeling well but I'll be fine."

"Open the door."

Silence.

"Please."

The silence continues — and your temper flares. "Don't make me go get my bag and grab my lock-picking set!"

You can hear sounds of cursing and some rustling around before the door slowly and reluctantly opens, Seokmin hiding in the shadow it casts.

"As you can see, I'm quite fi —"

Both a coughing jag and the firm push of your shoe interrupts his confident statement. "Sure hope you weren't about to say you're fine!"

A faint smoky scent permeates the pod. You cough and pause to let your vision adjust to the darkness. The first hint toward Seokmin's unusual behavior because he thrived in the sunlight, no matter how weak the sunrays that reached the floating ship were. Then second, you blink in wonderment at the black heaps littering the bed and floor.

Feathers. Everywhere.

Reminiscent of the time you'd broken Seungcheol's ridiculously expensive pillow against Mingyu's bulky bicep during a good-natured fight with Seungkwan's assistance. But instead of an explosion of brown and aqua toma plumage causing you all to sneeze, these were inky dark like the night sky and resembled piles of soot against the pod's stark white backdrop.

You whirl around to find Seokmin retreating to the corner of the room, hands slamming on top of the dresser for support. His back is to you with two thin wings jutting out from it. Feathers rustle as he pants, shoulders coinciding up and down with the motion of the wings.

"Seok, how did… how did this happen?"

It's not fear that causes your voice to tremble but worry. The appearance of his natural Plant form is no longer shocking. In fact, the more you see it, the more you find it eerily beautiful. Probably similar to those who believe them to be messengers of a higher power. But he's only ever transformed in dire situations — either due to stress or the rare exhaustion of his superhuman abilities against stronger foes.

He doesn't reply so you take a cautious step forward. An animalistic growl erupts from his throat, followed by a pained groan. You gasp as he shakes, protrusions rupturing from the lower parts of his shoulder blades. Two more wings burst out and unfurl below the trembling ones already quivering on his back.

So that's how they hide and reappear.

"Is it 'cause you're sick? Choi said you've been staying out all night. You could've caught a cold or something's in the air. Never know what's floating around here." You babble as you frantically search for signs in the mirror above the dresser for any hints to what's caused this.

Seokmin's bent over and you note what should be brunette roots of hair are now pitch-black too. Closer and closer you creep until you can make out each bead of perspiration trickling down his neck and how they coat every bare part of his body in a sheen of sweat.

Then his head snaps up. An eye — unshielded by the black fringe of his red-brown tipped bangs — narrows to glare into your widened ones. A tempest of electric blue rages within it. Like the hottest type of fire, it burns more than you could ever expect in a vortex of one prominent emotion.

Desire.

An involuntary shudder overtakes your whole body, and you unconsciously bite your lip. Seokmin slumps back down, granting respite from that ardent azure glow.

"Sick," he snarls and laughs, strained. "Sick in the head, that's for sure."

"How… how can I help? What can I do for you?"

"Get out."

"Seok —"

"I'm serious, mayfly. For your own good. Leave."

"My own good?"

"I'll, hah, I'll explain… explain it later."

Your arms cross. "Oh, really? Or will you avoid me again? Like you have been for the past several days?"

"I haven't —"

"Don't you dare feign indifference! I'm not stupid — we talk about our feelings and then you retreat. Just be honest with me… please."

You promised.

He sucks in a very deep inhale through clenched teeth, seeming to regret it instantly because his grip on the edge of the dresser is hard enough to crack the strong material. Glowering at your reflection again — not daring to acknowledge your very real and extremely close presence in the room — Seokmin bares his sharpened and widened incisors in a snarl.

"We will talk, mayfly, please believe me. Now's… hah… just not great timing with… with what's happening."

Irritation easily gives way back to worry. "At least tell me what I can do for you. Should I get Jun?"

"He can't do anything. Gotta just… work it out of my system."

"Work what?" You frown, knowing how rare it is for the medical specialist to be stumped.

"It's not for certain…" Four different wings flutter in agitation at various speeds. "Not a lot's known about Plant physiology," his mouth turns downward, "even I don't have a thorough understanding."

"Is it a disease?"

"Wish it was that simple."

"You're talking in riddles and running verbal circles, Seok."

"… Dokyeom and I are independent Plants. Likely the only ones, well, you know — still functioning. Alive. When Rem found us, research was obviously done."

You know the story very well and nod. "And had been conducted before."

"'Course thanks to Rem, it wasn't as invasive but there were, hah, occasional talks. Theories. And then, of course, before us twins, there was…"

"… Tesla."

A Plant with a lifespan of only two-hundred and thirty days.

Seokmin swallows. "Tesla. Yes. I recall bits and pieces. Hypothesized with Luida and company… Outside of Dokyeom following the unethical methods humans sometimes conduct for experimentation," he snorts at the irony, "it's thought that Plants… can copulate… with a mate… of their, hah, choosing."

"Really?" Your eyebrows raise, intrigued. "That's a brilliant discovery!" Then they furrow. "Wait, are you saying that this," you wave your hand to gesture at his current form, "is because… you're, er, ready to… mate?"

He holds his head. "… Yes."

"Oh, okay. So, you need like… relief? A mate? Should I…?"

Your questions hang uncertainly in the air, unfinished because you're really not sure what you're supposed to even offer. A sarcastic smirk graces Seokmin's lips, condescending in the sort of way that's aimed more at himself.

"What kind of man do you think I am, mayfly?"

"A very, uh, Planty one for sure."

"Better than leafy, I suppose."

"Though you are quite… feathery."

Finally, he turns toward you, a wry and defeated smile on his weary face. His wings stretch outward and curl back in, elegantly waving toward you as if drawn in your direction. You can't help but smile at the object hanging from a cord around his neck.

"You still keep that old thing around?"

He looks at the golden cartridge and chuckles. "It's special."

"Me holding a gun to your head was special?""Meeting you will always remain a treasured memory, no matter the manner of how it happened." Seokmin falls quiet, lost in thought before hesitantly asking, "Did I not mention Plants mate for life? Well, at the very least, I know I do."

"Oh." Your astonishment reveals itself in a breathless gasp. There's no escaping that all-consuming, fiery cerulean gaze. "So is this the first time you've been… ready to, uh, mate?"

"No, I'm used to the way these cycles come and go. But this for sure is the worst bout yet."

"… Why?"

You hold your breath. He takes a step forward. Then another.

He's so close, if you leaned the slightest bit forward you'd press up against each other. Somehow, with an overwhelming sense of shyness guessing the underlying thoughts and what his answer will be, your eyes roam his bare upper chest and torso.

If you could caress him you would. All the shiny black feathers adorning his wings and the occasional ones sprouting along his forearms pointing to his Plant abilities. Each scar along with every bit of metal or his body's naturally grown wood that replaces chunks of lost flesh. He's kept them as reminders of when he's failed humans, though you've seen them only as when they've failed him. He shivers, like he can feel it, as if he knows what you're thinking and you questioningly re-meet his burning stare as he shoots you a wane smile.

Sheepishly, he rubs where the cybernetic arm attaches to his shoulder. Many have turned away in disgust or mock pity at the disfigurements. Yet despite the true abomination he looks like right now, there's only ever been pure empathy and acceptance he doesn't deserve — all from you.

"Conscious consent and reciprocation."

Your lips turn upward, joy causing your soul to unwittingly sing. "Does that mean… I'm your mate?"

"No."

It's like Gunsmoke completely collapses, and you're left twirling without footing in space. Seokmin matches your fallen expression with one of his own.

"What? Wh-why?"

"Don't get me wrong, it's —"

"I swear if you say 'It's me, not you'…"

He rather adorably tilts his head. "How did you know?"

"It's a typical cliche," you roll your eyes, "just give it to me straight, Seokmin. Is it 'cause I'm human?"

"… It's not that simple, and this isn't something trivial. It's — hah — it's a huge commitment." The use of your given name indicates his seriousness. "A lifetime one. For me, it's only ever been you… and it will always be you for as long as I live, which could be your whole lifespan! And I don't, hah, I don't know — hell, it's taking everything I can not to tear a dead man apart, let alone what I'd do if you'd change your mind, want something — someone else."

"You're doing it again, projecting and underestimating my feelings for you."

"It could be the effect of my pheromones, mayfly. We don't know every —"

"That's right! We don't know! So we have to trust each other and see."

"It's —"

"Let's not subject ourselves to the hypothetical. And what do you mean by dead man?"

Seokmin's jaw tenses, fingernails digging into numb skin. His wings waver, like they're considering cocooning around him for protection. But their tips simply flutter as if soothed by an unseen force, preventing them from enclosing completely.

Teasingly, you lean toward him and squint. "What else aren't you telling me, Seok? You pick a side hustle up that involves the deceased like Choi?"

He snorts at the audacity and doesn't take the bait. Instead, unfamiliar but still achingly familiar irises dart to your neck, tracing the silver chain laying against your skin. A dull sort of sadness fizzles out those blue fires and you clasp the shape of the locket beneath your shirt in realization.

"He was a boy, Seok. A boy I grew up with for a short period, one that felt like a brother to me."

"… You said you loved him."

"When?"

"… To Cheol. After you first met him."

"That would've been so long ago? How do you even remember that?"

He sighs, heavily. "It's not easy to forget. Your voice was so warm, so gentle, so in love when you admitted it."

"Love can mean different things! And I assure you, my feelings for you differ greatly from how I felt about him. And… he's… he's long gone, Seok."

Guilt burns in his eyes. "I know. Which makes me all the worse."

"No, it doesn't." You shake your head, a resigned smile resting on your lips, and hold your arms out. "'Cause I understand and forgive you. And most importantly, I love you."

It's uncertain if those words break or restore him, but the hard rigidness in his body melts away, sagging in a semblance of relief. Then he rushes forward into your waiting embrace, wings helping to propel him forward until they wrap around and press you to him tight, tickling areas where his arms aren't squeezing around you.

"And I adore you, my lovely mayfly."

You groan. "When will you stop calling me that?"

"Never," he snickers and you feel the curve of his lips as he comfortably nuzzles into the crook of your neck. "For as long as you're mine."

"Yours?"

"Mine."

"Sucker."

A chaste kiss brushes the lower tip of your ear. So ticklish and unexpected, you pull back with a giggle and playfully swat his shoulder. And just as he's about to dive forward and prove your little comment correct in retaliation, you burst into full-on laughter that leaves Seokmin to settle his hands on your waist with confusion crinkling his brow.

"What?"

"So that's why you were always having a deathly staring match between my childhood memorabilia?"

"… Was not."

"You — the most sentimental loser ever — definitely were!"

He pouts momentarily, the cute jut out of his lower lip quickly transforming to a devious smirk. "You'd bet on it?"

"Totally." You place your arms around his neck, bringing your bodies closer again and matching the charge of electricity with a clever tilt of your lips. "I'd win, too."

"And what's on the table?"

"Sixty billion double dollars, of course."

"That so?"

"Mhm, and it seems like someone's bounty matches that worth."

Seokmin quirks a brow. "Seems like you want me on the table."

"Winner takes all?"

"Mayfly, I've always been yours."

"Sap," you laugh again.

A bright grin certainly declares your delight in victory, though your partner in crime uses the distraction as an advantage for his earlier loss and wastes no time. Diving in, a sharpened canine grazes your pulse point, automatically causing your head to tilt to offer easier access. Two left wings sweetly swoop down for support, feathered tips tenderly brushing your forehead.

The heat of his tongue placates the dragging scratch of his fangs. Though it sears you alive, heating your entire body from the tips of your toes, swirling in your core, and concentrating beneath Seokmin's lips on your skin.

When reaching that cold, familiar necklace you treasure so much and he can't help but loathe, it's seized between his teeth before he registers the action. Tugging it away from your neck like a dog, you wonder if he'll even shake it like one. His eyes follow the length of the chain, focusing on where the locket pops out above your chest.

You raise a questioning brow. "You gonna just play with my jewelry or take my clothes off?"

"Oh," Seokmin whispers, jaw dropping, and suddenly stands stiffly at attention.

You watch, entranced by the bob of his Adam's apple as he visibly gulps. Large, calloused hands — so practiced in undressing you for baths and patching up wounds — falter as they skim along your sides in a fleeting touch. Smiling encouragingly, you intertwine your fingers with those of his prosthetic while leading the other one beneath your shirt, the rough flesh of his palm blisteringly hot against your stomach.

"Is this okay? Can it help calm your Plant powers?"

"Yes… but that means… giving yourself to me… forever."

"Can't think of anything I'd enjoy more."

Confident, you trail kisses up his jaw to his cheek, stopping near his ear. Playfully tugging at the earring hoop as you pull away. Then you break away and bend over, shimmying off your shorts in one smooth motion. Stepping out of them, next goes your top. As each fabric hits the floor, Seokmin's eyes become more lidded, heavy with want. Smoldering. Desiring.

Four black wings fan out and stay as rigid as his stance. As if they're waiting with bated breath. And when you finally stand bare before him, he sheepishly drags his gaze to the floor with a flustered smile.

"I'm the one naked and you're embarrassed?" you tease and his posture relaxes.

"Because you're a vision to behold."

"Says the one who looks like an angel."

You back up until your knees hit the side of the bed. Like those morbid tales that depict curious listeners following a luring call to their demise, Seokmin's only a step behind you. He doesn't dare let his eyes stray further from your own, a goofy grin on his face.

"Consider this my fall from grace then, mayfly."

Gingerly, you sit on the edge of the mattress, waiting for his next move. He towers over you in this position. Formidable in appearance yet oh-so-gentle when picking up your left hand to kiss your knuckles and rub his thumb across its faded scar. Another smooch gets placed to your inner wrist and you hold your breath at the passion in those blazing cyan depths that refuse to look away. Then, a cautious touch to your shoulder urges you onto your back. Obediently, you lay down and a bunch of stray loose feathers fly up into the air upon impact.

"Beautiful," he murmurs.

The clothed knee resting between your legs helps his arm support the weight of his body hovering above you. A tentative hand slides down from your shoulder to your hip, leaving goosebumps in its wake. Caressing every scar, memorizing each color and swirl of ink decorating your skin, and erasing any insecurities or blemishes you see in yourself. Cold digits draw whimsical shapes and tickle your abdomen, stopping above your pelvic bone.

"May I?"

"Of course."

Seokmin rejoices in your consent by littering your collarbone with love bites. And his touches move lower, tender despite their mechanical nature. Warmth blossoms and flows under every surface of your skin Seokmin's traced, coiling and settling in a pulsating — almost painful — heat rupturing between your legs.

Only he can be the one to relieve this ache which he precisely aims to do. A simple, single brush across sensitive folds instantly has your breath hitching, shaking beneath him.

"Are you alright?"

"Mhm… yes."

He audibly gulps at your unexpected whimper of ecstasy, reluctantly tearing away from watching amorous bliss overtake your facial expression to the wet heat detected by his pointer finger's sensors. A feral growl rumbles in his chest at the debauched sight of desire beginning to dampen your thighs — the trace of what he's been smelling from you now overloading every single one of his senses as he coaxes more to flow from you. Seokmin's more than thankful for his enhanced vision and the glow of cybernetic technology baring your most intimate parts to him.

Guided by an instinctual impulse, he eases a finger inside. Your back automatically arches off the bed, eliciting a sweet gasp of delight. The cool touch of the digit seized tightly by the pulsating walls of your cunt slowly warms as it adjusts to the welcome intrusion. He soothingly brushes the knuckle of his middle finger across the soft outer flesh of your pussy to relax its grip. Eventually it lets up enough to let him explore further and deeper than your own have ever reached.

"I'm… I'm not sure how best to please you," Seokmin admits, drinking in your every reaction to his curious ministrations. "But there's this urge, this need, to make you feel good. Prep you properly for my… my entry."

By pure accident, he strokes a rough patch of nerves that makes your eyes roll back, hips lifting at the sensation of wanting more of whatever that feeling was, and your quiet noises melt into a loud, needy moan.

"More," you plead, "touch me more, Seok."

He eases his other finger inside without question, grunting at the squeeze that almost prevents him from moving to where you want him the most. But unlike the rest of his quivering body, the prosthesis remains steady, still, and patient. Waiting until it can bully itself and a third finger past your entrance's vice-like clench.

You start pulling on your breasts, trying to alleviate the tingling in them. Seokmin observes with a keen eye and a toothy, fanged grin. After a bit, he leans down to let his tongue trace the underside of one mound, leaving behind a saliva trail shining in the unconventional lighting as he tends to the next. Alternating with playful nips and naughty tugs to your nipples whenever your grip on them falters from the overwhelming pleasure.

So attentive and eager, soon you're writhing beneath him as you hit your peak. One hand grips your hip tightly, surely to leave a bruise with the way it cramps. His other doesn't let up, well-oiled mechanisms continuing to pump in and out of your trembling pussy until you whine from the overstimulation.

His wings fold protectively around both of you like a canopy as you share a tender kiss. Dazed and happy, you tenderly brush back black bangs and play with one of the feathers that's sprouted near the hairline above his ear. He shivers.

"Let me take care of you too."

"Are you sure? What about your shoulder?"

"That's the least of my concerns right now."

"I can still…"

"Later. First, I want to help you."

Suddenly, Seokmin's shy again, flushed cheeks darkening. "I… I think I'm a little different… down there so it's okay if you don't want to… or get scared."

"It's not like I've seen enough dicks to compare whether what you're packing is normal."

The both of you share a goofy laugh that eases the presumed awkwardness. He sits back to unbutton his pants but you stop him.

"May I?"

You might as well have knocked the air out of his lungs. He stares at you wide-eyed and then emphatically nods, finally clearing his throat to squeak out, "Sure."

Ignoring the aftershocks of your earlier orgasm, you sit up and kneel in front of him. Intent on a few minor distractions, your mouth and hands start at his shoulders to work their way down. Imagining you have the power to heal the damage dealt to his body and soul through tender touches.

You see a sad sense of beauty and justice in the patchwork of metal bolts and bark. And as you apply marks of love that bruise and blossom between them, he lets out a content warble. You're quick to undo the button of his pants, both of you gasping at the utterly wet mess seeping through the material when you tug the zipper down with your teeth.

He lifts his hips to help and once he's just as naked as you do you take him in. Anatomy was meagerly touched upon during your days at the convent, so truthfully all you're aware of at the sight of his heavy cock is the need to be filled with it.

And the closest thing to take him is your mouth, jaw already aching before you even open it. Almost reverently, your hands wrap around to stabilize it. Seokmin hisses pleasantly at the contact.

"You don't have to —"

He's cut off by a groan as you inquisitively suckle the tip. The copious amounts of slick smearing from it and down the base taste sweeter than Seungcheol's lollipops and you moan heartily, causing his thighs beneath your elbows to tense at the vibrations.

"Oh, mayfly."

A wing caresses your cheek that bulges as you take more and more of him, Seokmin's hands tearing at the sheets. The tip of another wing tantalizingly drags down your bare back. Your hands begin to explore, finding the puffy edges around the slit from which the thick cock emerges from. His hips jolt upwards at the contact to sensitive tissues, causing you to gag.

"Ah, 'm sorry!"

While he whispers repeated apologies, you're only compelled to take him further. Slowly you get used to the stretch, but no matter how much more you're able to squeeze down your throat there's still enough of his length for both of your hands to play with. It gets easier the more aggressive you get, his cock seeming to respond to your vigor in tandem. Soon you're lost to the haze of whether you're bobbing your head up and down or it's swirling languidly in your mouth on its own accord.

Seokmin's hips stutter but you feel the tremor first pulse against the inner walls of your throat. His cock throbs as you pull off of it, hollowing your cheeks and parting with deliberately powerful suction. A loud pop releases its tip and your hand supports its weighty girth falling forward. You dig the nails of your free hand into the muscle of his quaking thigh, ducking down to teethe at the puffy slit from where his cock must emerge.

Moving on to licking and dragging the point of your tongue along the sizable vein lining the underside causes Seokmin's low groans to turn into a high-pitched trill. Once you reach the swollen, leaking head and nibble on the hard glans, it spasms wildly and finally erupts. From the top slit seeps sweet syrupy fluid that readily overflows into your awaiting, open mouth.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," he blabbers.

You'd reply that there's no need for gratitude, perhaps you'd thank him, but the viscous release keeps spilling out. Rivulets trickle well past your lips and coat your chest. Although still in a euphoric daze, his eyes flash with sharp satisfaction. Instantly possessive at the sight of your bare body decorated so erotically.

His wings snap open — filled with purpose — and your face is pressed down into the mattress. Surrounded in a smoky musk as the angelic monstrosity it belongs to and destined to be your mate hovers above.

Your voice comes out hoarse as you raise up onto your elbows and spitefully spit out a black feather. "Do those wings of yours prevent you from being topped or something?"

"I'll let you find out another time, partner," Seokmin huffs, laughter evident despite his apparent breathlessness. He steals a tender kiss, pleased grunting at how your lips — shiny and swollen — taste of him. "But for now…"

Like an anchor, the tech material warmed by your shared body heat and passion winds underneath your hips, keeping them raised. A calloused, ticklish touch roams traces your spine. He draws an occasional spiral here and there as he goes, mindful of your wound, until firmly pinning the nape of your neck to the side, creating the perfect arch of your back.

"I think you'll like this," Seokmin says as if he isn't liking the view below him.

But for you, straight ahead lies the dresser's mirror. It reflects the full manifestation of an independent Plant poised to devour a human in the most intimate sense. The fearsome size of his cock lies heavy on top of your ass, leaking droplets of arousal all over your backside.

"Will it fit?"

"Of course, you are mine to claim and take." His hips just forward and you both moan. "I think we're both wet enough to try."

"I trust you."

"Let me know if it hurts in any way and we'll stop right away, mayfly."

Many troupes of desert-traveling dancers have mesmerized you before. Yet even they can't compare to the graceful and smooth motion of Seokmin releasing your neck to align his tip with the entrance of your cunt and slowly bullying his way in.

Tears of pain mixing to unfathomable pleasure blur the vision of your mouth widening to let out whines and moans. "Seokkie…"

"Mhm, mayfly… my love… my mate."

Finally, the front of his thighs are flush against yours. Hips pressed tight against your ass. Fully sheathed inside your tight hole, neither of you have ever felt such intensity before. He surrenders his body weight on top of yours, hands braced outside of yours clenching loose feathers and silk sheets. The outer heaviness matches the intensity of what your pussy struggles to accommodate.

"Mine."

Seokmin's hips swirl at a slow pace. Rather than thrust, he massages the sensitive glands at the base of his cock with the soft flesh of your ass. His length seems to shrink and grow and writhe with a mind of its own, filling and teasing you nonstop. Leaving no surface of your inner walls untouched or untended to for too long.

"Yours."

You shudder in blissed-out delirium and Seokmin lights up — literally.

Fluorescent lines glow in distinct patterns across skin, brightening the more he starts to pant and build up your shared pleasure. Sharp canines prick into the skin of your unmarked shoulder as he wraps his prosthesis under your stomach to raise your hips, the new position driving you faster to that rapidly approaching edge. You cry out with a lurch, blurrily making out his glowing form that shudders above.

Though the view in the mirror gets hidden by black wings stroking your entire body. Teasing the underside of your tits and tenderly brushing away the stings of his teeth marks.

"I-I love you," Seokmin rasps.

"Love…" You manage to enunciate the words, mind emptying and drool wetting the bed as your second peak approaches. "Love you too."

Pain and pleasure draw forth an onslaught of your apparent arousal that lecherously mixes with the frothy mess dribbling from his cock. Claws appear on Seokmin's right hand, another addition to the bestial Plant features emerging in the throes of passion. He's not completely lost to the primal thrall though, able to resist from breaking skin.

Delicately scratching your waist without drawing blood, then using the finely pointed tips to pluck and tease effortlessly at your clit. You cry out, body shaking as waves of euphoria crash against the shoreline of imminent pleasure.

Seokmin helps ride out your peak with a couple of speedy thrusts. The feeling of his hips slamming into you has you seeing more stars than Gunsmoke's galaxy contains. And just as you're overcome with too much stimulation, he lets go with a particularly strong bite into the top of your shoulder.

His cock softens and its heavy weight like a blanket along with the continual pump of his warm, soothing release. The feeling of it leaving none of your inner walls untouched feels as sweet as it tasted on your tongue and helps ease the ache inside your cunt. Still joined together and slick with stickiness, he collapses onto his side and gently assists you with rolling over so you can face him.

"Hey, you."

"Hello there yourself, lovely mayfly."

Your nose wrinkles but gets smoothed out by feather tips playing with the ends of your hair. Seokmin smiles as you snuggle closer into his chest so two of his wings can cocoon around you as the heated fervor from prior activities cools.

"Did that help?"

"… Yes," he says though his tone wavers with hesitance.

You raise your chin and see the electric blue luster hasn't faded yet from his gaze. Sheepishly, the corner of his mouth raises and you shiver, feeling the swell of his cock stretch out your pussy. The bulge it creates brushes against Seokmin's abdomen and he twitches.

"Sorry, it's… I'm gonna be kinda insatiable now that I've had a taste…" He trails off, wings snapping behind him. Slowly, he pulls his hips away and you both hiss as his cock is dragged out.

"What are you —"

You're cut off by the animalistic glimmer in his gaze, catching the feral smirk that he attempts to hide by licking his palm. Quick as lightning, Seokmin fleetingly swipes the outer lips of your cunt and brings his fingers, tonguing at them. Body set aflame again, neither of your break eye contact as he moans headily.

"But not of this," he rasps.

Before you know it, you're staring up at the glow-in-the-dark stickers on his ceiling with your mate between your legs. His wings trail along your calves, their flexible ends curling near your inner thighs, encouraging them to spread and stay open, pinning them in place.

"Oh, aren't you a beauty?"

He moans shamelessly at the sight of your messy, glistening pussy. You squirm at the ticklish sensation of his feathers and that smoldering, ravenous look. If only he knew what it was like to see him devour you with his mouth.

Delicious.

Just like the feeling of his tongue working its way inside and licking up the shared essence of your releases.

Your fingers weave between strands of hair as black as night, tugging lightly and accidentally snagging one of his ear feathers. He moans eagerly, and the vibration has you shuddering, already quickly nearing another mind-shattering orgasm. But you don't let him carry you there too fast, smooth brain muscles trying to form a question.

"How… long… how long do these cycles last?"

Seokmin presses a loving kiss to your twitching clit and blows, entranced by how you clench around nothing. Then he smirks, elongated teeth shining in the darkness like a predatory warning though you have nothing to fear.

"As much as you can handle but… we're really only just getting started, mayfly."

The motion light kicks on as Seungcheol shifts his boots in the direction of the unlit kitchen area. Junhui and Minghao's entrance awaken the rest of the lights and they frown at the makeshift bunker set up.

"What are you three doing in here?"

Seungkwan sleepily mumbles a curse word and next to him, Mingyu blearily rubs his eyes. A scattering of empty pudding cups and bottles lie around them as well as a disorganized array of poker cards.

"We're afraid to venture out of here."

Junhui shares a secretive look with his closest friend at Seungkwan's cryptic words. "Ah, so that's happened. Or happening."

"'Bout time y'all came 'round. Time for ya to pay up!"

"Pay up for what?"

"Compensation. 'M the one who got the closest to bein' right knowin' they'd fuck after confessin'."

"If anyone needs compensation, it's me for the mental damage of having to make one of my lovelies into an enhanced sex toy."

Seungcheol guffaws. "Ya didn't! Ya lil cheatin', schemin' scientist!"

Meanwhile, Mingyu looks mighty concerned. "Does that mean Seokmin has a dildo for an arm?!"

Minghao crosses his arms with a steely glare. "No."

"Oh good. I don't think I could look at him the same."

"I don't think any of us will ever look at him the same again."

Junhui eagerly rocks back and forth on his heels, hands stuffed in the deep pockets of his lab coat. "Do you think they discovered all the functions and benefits of it yet?"

"Should be our next bettin' round."

"No more bets. I don't care if it's half a double dollar to go in, I refuse to go through this again."

Mingyu elbows his raven-haired companion. "C'mon, your heart's warmed by this!"

"Warmed and consumed by the rage and fury of hellfire, yes."

Giggling, the tall man smiles widely and holds his hand out. "Alright, I win then!"

"Win what? Thought you didn't remember your bet."

Mingyu purses his lips. "Only because none of you took me seriously and joked with a bunch of gross innuendos when I said they'd find their home in one another!" He then sighs dreamily. "But if I'm right, we'll know by tomorrow morning."

"Who says it'll be tomorrow mornin'. Might take weeks. Months even, I reckon'."

"I'll kick you all out before it comes to that," Minghao threatens and runs a hand through the few strands of hair without a bead. He tosses a wad of money in front of Mingyu. "Never involve me in this again."

Despite all the grumbling, everyone has a sense of lightness in their hearts at the thought of their dear friends finally getting together. And the happiest of them all is Mingyu, who cheerily gathers his prized double dollars, dreaming of all the pudding he can buy.

A lone figure stands on the edge of the valley of the Melca Border. The Sea of Sand, aptly named, can change tide and turn vicious at any second. Their cloak billows in the sandy winds that whip around them, though even the steadfast hood can't hide the satisfied smile on their face.

"You did well," they commend and the name that falls from their lips is one some might consider lost to the sands of time.

"Saintess." Another figure materializes out of the sand gusts in response to the praise. "It is to be done as you said."

"Very well. Shall we go now?"

Whether it's the mysterious sands that swirl around and whisk them away or the lost technology cube that transports them, no one will ever know for no one ever saw them. Like ghosts, they disappear and find themselves outside the real ghost town — where it all began.

A toma croaks in the distance. Brave travelers dare cross the ruined wasteland and the saintess meditating atop one of the largest rocks hidden in the shadows opens her gray eyes tinted by lilac in the glow of the moons to observe. Despite all of her traveling, the white robes wrapped around her body remain in pristine condition.

She turns behind to look at the man standing over a scattering of stones, staring intently at one of them. With poise and purpose, she dusts off her clothes and strides over to him.

"Chan."

Brown eyes tear away from his own name carved into the headstone in front of him to look at the one who's said it aloud.

"Yes, Saintess?"

"Do you regret it?"

"No. Never."

"Good," she states, satisfied with his response. With a grand sweep of her hood to cover short, dark hair, she gestures to the east. "We will set up camp one more night before returning to the Saint in the morning before he speaks with our Master."

Chan mutely nods, following the saintess back into the desert where she confidently leads him to a cave that will shield them from the unpredictable nature of Gunsmoke's wastelands. He thinks of you, the girl he must keep safe and two brothers. One with wings as pure white despite his continual revelry with hate-filled darkness, the other bearing ones the complete opposite color of his twin — a wild card.

He reminisces over the Blessed and Holy Sisterhood of Little Ivywood, the convent and all the orphans that lived there. Pondering Sister Meryl's role, who stands before him now as the revered Saintess, leader for the Eye of Joshua and second only to the Bishop of the cult named after himself. She moves curious little statues back and forth across the surface of a large flat rock and the young man can't help but ask her a question in the unnerving silence.

"Do you think this will work?"

Meryl smiles elusively, as always. She picks up the smallest one with a deliberate flourish, placing it on a blackened space close to the last row of alternating squares carved into the stone's surface.

"Have you ever played chess before?"

"No, what is it?"

"An Earthern board game. It is quite complicated." Gesturing to the piece she just moved, she continues. "This is a pawn, the weakest of all chess pieces."

Chan bristles. "But strength comes in numbers, no? There are eight of each color, surely the right side can find a way to win."

Unfazed by his agitation, the saintess nods placatingly. "With the right strategy, even a pawn may become a queen — the most powerful. Unpredictable." She points to a white figurine with a cross on top of it. "Enough to checkmate a king."

Entranced, Chan watches as she rearranges and repositions various pieces across the faux chessboard. Soon, the pawn that took on the mantle of a Black Queen captures the White King. His eyes roam what's left on the battlefield at the end of the match, pointing to one that looks like a tower.

"What's that one?"

"A rook. It best supports an allied pawn towards promotion from behind the scenes." Her eyes sparkle mischievously. "It's most powerful during the end of the game, as you can see."

Chan gulps, holding his breath for a moment, and clears his throat. "Then I'm ready."

"Wonderful," Meryl nods, "we'll depart for Master Dokyeom's stronghold in the morning. I'm sure Joshua, our dear Saint, will be… pleased upon our return."

"To the glory of the Black King's rise."

"And to the glory of our so-called queen."

Keep him safe, Chan thinks to himself as he settles on the ground. And yourself. One day we'll reunite in the most joyous of occasions…

He pulls out a faded wanted poster with the infamous outlaw worth sixty billion double dollars, donning a wishful smile before closing his eyes and murmuring, "I'd even bet this impossible amount on it."

onlyseokmins: April 2024 ©

[reverse-runaways-au]

humbly requesting some Reverend and Will first meeting content 🪽🤞🏻

This was both fun and a challenge to write!! No warnings here, other than what you probably already know about the characters and the Reverse Falls au.

Standing alone in the room, staring at the candles on the wooden floor, he braced himself. Again, the warning rang in Stanford’s mind.

Do not summon at all costs.

It was not a phrase to be taken lightly. Not an action to take without long, careful thought. Long sleepless hours of research and study, restless nights alone, turning it over and over in his mind. Preparing himself for what he wanted to do. A reckless man would have summoned the strange spirit, this dream demon, as soon as he could. He didn't like to think of himself that way. He liked to consider himself better than that.

Nothing else he'd come across had a warning like this. Nothing else had the potential like this. Nothing else begged for his attention like this. Begged for his control like this.

Too good to resist. Too good to hold back.

Yes. Whatever this truly was, demon or lesser spirit, or something else unimaginable, he was ready for it.

The candles flickered. Stanford Gleeful held his breath. A wind wrapped around him, tossing his hair as the world distorted into grayscale. Behind his arms he watched with wide eyes as a hole ripped itself open in reality. A triangle through which he could see the whole cosmos watching back.

He blinked.

The eye within the hole blinked back.

Reality turned solid again. The triangle seemed to smile, looking around the room.

“I'm back,” he said.

Stanford lowered his arms, and stared. He was a strange thing, dark arms and legs with a top hat and tie. All blue, an almost photo negative shade, with a single eye that looked at him with cheerful curiosity. Intelligence burned within it. So did power.

He couldn't look away.

“So!” The little thing floated closer. “You're Stanford Gleeful!” He circled around, as if examining Stanford. “Yknow, I didn't think you'd actually do it. Summon me. I'm glad you did though! It's nice to talk to a human again.”

“How-” Stanford swallowed. “How do you know my name?”

The triangle laughed. “What don't I know!” He said. “I'm practically a god of knowledge!” He rubbed his face with his little hand. “But uh. I've actually been hoping someone would summon me for a long time. The last guys didn't like me. They thought I was annoying. I saw you find that old stuff-” He gestured to the desk across the room. “- and I thought, maybe this time it'll happen! And go better, too! I shouldn't hope, it's gotten me in trouble before. But for once, it worked out!”

He reached out and brushed a few strands of hair out of Stanford's face, before flicking him on the nose.

“Name's Will Cipher! Great to finally meet you. Hope I don't let you down!”

Stanford felt something odd wrapping around inside him. Like… intrigue. Interest. Attraction? He couldn't say. This whole situation caught him off guard. He'd expected a demon like his grandfather spoke of so often in his sermons, in personality, if nothing else.

But Will, he seemed… Nice. Innocent, even.

“So!” Will crossed his legs and looked at Stanford with clear eagerness. “What would you like to do first?”

Right. He'd wanted to test the demon with questions. See how powerful, how dangerous, he truly was. But he couldn't remember them anymore. Damn it.

“Hold on,” Stanford said, raising his hand. “What was it you just said about being a god?”

“Compared to humans, yeah!” Will said. “I'll show you! You want to see something fun?”

“... Yes?” Stanford said.

Will took off his hat and tossed it in the air. He spun around in a blur of blue and black, moving so quickly Stanford could not see him anymore. The hat shot up, almost hitting the ceiling, and drifted back down.

The hand that caught the hat was human, in black fingerless gloves. The head that the hand put the hat back onto, covered in blonde hair, was also human. Dark blue eyes winked at him, human eyes, a human face. A human body dressed in a blue vest over a black sleeveless turtleneck and dark pants, lean and youthful and grinning wide. Will adjusted his tie.

“What do you think?” Will said.

Something about Stanford's face must've caught Will’s attention. He wilted.

“... I didn't make you uncomfortable did I?” He said. “I can change back if you-”

“No!”

Stanford lowered his hand. He exhaled. Forced himself to smile through his disbelief.

“I… I like it.”

But Will must have known that. How, he would need to figure out. Stanford never told a soul about his true desire in a partner. He would never let anyone know he was gay. But this form that this bright-eyed demon took…

He must have known. How else could he have chosen a body that captured everything he'd ever fantasized about?

“Thanks!” Will said.

Or maybe he didn't. Maybe it was an accident. Maybe it was fate.

Maybe they were meant for each other.

Stanford grinned. This was the best decision he ever made in his life.

[lisalamona]

𝐀𝐌𝐁𝐈𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 - I

Chapter I: The Horse And The Infant

. Summary: Despite your brother's insistence, you stubbornly decided to join him and his men in the war. Now, are you prepared to face the consequences of your actions? . Pairing: Various x Fem! Reader (platonic) . Warnings: graphic depictions of violence, death, trauma, and other sensitive content. . Notes: I'm starting to upload this story here on tumblr, I am really sorry for clogging the tags.

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Masterlist

Ten years. Ten years of fighting and barely surviving, only for it all to be ruined by some stupid wooden horse. "It'll never work!" "They'll burn it first!" "By far the stupidest-"

Exclamations and murmurs erupted around you at the captain's proposal, the voices of roughly six hundred men booming with disbelief and anger.

"Enough." Odysseus's attempt to regain control fell on deaf ears, seeming only to make the men talk louder. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, exhaustion practically radiating off him, with dark bags shadowing his eyes like bruises from sleepless nights.

"Brother." You placed a hand on his shoulder to get his attention. Despite years of learning to keep his guard up, he still jumped slightly, startled.

"Yes?" He turned to you, focusing intently, his voice tired and strained from days of argument and tension.

"Is it really true that Athena told you this?" You glanced at him, uncertain and weary of the plan. Were the Trojans really so gullible as to believe that a wooden horse big enough to hold thirty soldiers was a peace offering? And was your brother really so bold to think that just thirty of you could hold off the whole city of Troy, even if only until the rest of the soldiers arrived?

He nodded. "Every single detail. Believe me, I didn't think it would work either, but—"

"I believe you." He took the hand still resting on his shoulder and gave it a small squeeze, leaning his head toward it in appreciation.

"Thank you." He looked at you, clearly grateful that at least one person was on his side. "But you don't count. You're my sister."

You rolled your eyes, playfully pushing him away, and you both chuckled despite the tension.

But the moment of peace was short-lived. Around you, men were beginning to shove each other, voices rising into angry arguments, some even leveling threats.

"Captain!" Both you and your brother turned to see Polites pushing through the crowd, struggling to make his way to you. He was a young man you'd come to consider a close friend after all these years of war. "I tried to calm them down, but they won't listen!"

"You need to do something," came another voice, sharp with urgency. Eurylochus was close behind Polites, giving you a brief nod in acknowledgment before returning to the matter at hand. "Captain, this is getting out of hand," he added, voice stern.

You glanced around at the men, watching as tempers flared and fists clenched. Ignoring your brother's warning look, you grabbed one of the chairs from the table he'd been using to explain the plan. Using it as a platform, you propelled yourself on top of it and brought your foot down as hard as you could. The booming sound echoed through the tent, a noise loud enough that you half expected they'd hear it from Troy.

"ENOUGH!"

All heads turned toward you, the crowd freezing, save for an awkward cough echoing from somewhere near the back.

"Would you all like to shut up for five minutes?" You took a breath to compose yourself. "Your captain was saying something."

The men turned toward Odysseus, who let out an exasperated sigh. "Thank you, [Name]. You can get down from the table now."

You shot him a mockingly sweet smile as Eurylochus reached up to help you down.

"Did I do good?" you asked with a grin.

"You did great," he replied, sounding almost relieved.

──────🗡️──────

Hours passed, hours that felt like days. The only thing keeping you awake were the occasional screams of joy from the people outside.

Eventually, all noise subsided. It seemed that night had fallen, and the Trojans had gone to sleep—most of them, at least.

Odysseus stood up as quietly as he could, avoiding the trap door below. "Alright, everybody, listen closely," he whispered, his voice barely carrying in the cramped space. No one knew exactly what might be waiting for them outside. "Tonight, we make the Trojans pay. Ten years of this cursed war... They've been chipping away at us, grinding us down slowly."

He looked around at the faces surrounding him, men who had once been young and filled with hope, now weary and weathered by battle. Some clutched their swords with white knuckles, while others cast brief glances to each other, finding strength in their shared purpose. The weight of those lost years was written in their eyes, etched in lines on their faces.

"Think of your wives and your children, they're out there wondering where you have been. They're lives keep going and yet you're still here. If you do as I say you'll see them again. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir!" Even in your relatively quiet voice, you held a tone of unwavering resolve.

Odysseus turned to the group, his gaze intense and commanding as he laid out the plan one last time. "Diomedes will lead the charge. Agamemnon, you're on the guards. Menelaus, open the gates and let the rest of our men in to take over the city. Teucer, you'll cover us, shoot down any ambush. Little Ajax, you stay back." He paused, looking each man in the eye, emphasizing his trust — and the weight of their roles.

"[Name] and Nestor," he continued, "your job is to find Helen and make sure she stays safe."

"But—"

"I'm not done talking," he cut you off, his tone firm. "We won't argue about this right now. It's enough that I allowed you to come."

"Yes, sir." You held back, swallowing your frustration. Though you weren't pleased with your brother's decision, you knew it wouldn't help to challenge him now.

Beside you, the older man, Nestor, gave you a sympathetic glance. His hair was streaked with gray, age softening his once-dark features. Despite his years, he could still hold his own in battle — though Odysseus clearly wanted someone experienced and careful watching over you. The thought irked you. You wanted to prove yourself, to show that you were just as capable as your brother. But you also knew that openly defying him wouldn't win that trust.

Odysseus turned his attention back to the group. "And lastly, Neoptolemus, avenge your father. Kill Hector's brothers."

He scanned each of you with a final, resolute look. "We'll move soon. Stay alert. When I give the signal, don't hesitate."

"Yes, sir!"

"Dig deep now," he continued, his voice low and commanding. "Find that inner strength. Tap into your pride. Push through the pain. And ask yourself: What do you live for? What do you fight for?"

──────🗡️──────

"I just don't understand why he wouldn't let me actually fight." You and Nestor had managed to sneak into the palace undetected. A young servant had revealed Helen's exact location with little hesitation after seeing your drawn swords.

"You are fighting," Nestor replied calmly.

"Fighting what, exactly? This zone is completely isolated!" You gestured around the empty hall, emphasizing your frustration. Everyone in the palace had either fled in panic or joined the battle raging outside. "Now I'm stuck on a rescue mission with you. Not that there's anything wrong with you, but you're... you know..."

"Old?" Nestor raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"...Yes," you admitted.

He chuckled. "Fighting isn't just about swinging your sword around. You do understand that, don't you?"

"Yeah, yeah. That doesn't stop Odysseus from being a—"

"Hey!" A voice shouted from behind you. Both of you turned to see a Trojan guard. Though most of his face was obscured by his helmet, his anger was palpable.

"Looks like you'll get your fight after all." You let out a small, triumphant "Yes!" and drew your sword, settling into your stance.

The soldier drew his sword and started forward, his walk turning into a sprint. He didn't care that he was outnumbered—all he saw was red. You tightened your grip on your own blade, feeling your heartbeat thunder in your chest as adrenaline surged through you. And then—

...

An arrow whistled through the hallway window, striking him in the neck. He dropped instantly, collapsing to the ground in a lifeless heap. His momentum was halted as abruptly as his final breath.

"What?"

You and Nestor approached the window, peering out to spot Teucer on a nearby balcony. He grinned at you, his fingers deftly notching another arrow, already aimed at his next target.

You groaned, muttering a silent curse, which only made Nestor chuckle at your misery.

"We should get moving before things get any worse down there," he said.

The words made you glance down at the wreckage below. Troy was in ruins—homes consumed by flames, people fleeing in desperation, and bodies scattered everywhere, too many to count. Even though you'd known the cost when you signed up for the war, a pang of guilt twisted in your gut at the sight of so many innocent lives lost that night.

You sighed, your voice bitter. "I doubt it can get much worse."

"Never say that. You never know what could happen." His voice was firm, yet a touch of urgency lingered in his tone as he guided you away from the window. With a steady hand on your shoulder, he led you onward, the path tightening as you neared the place where Helen was supposedly being held.

As you approached the room, you noticed two men sprawled on the ground, a pool of dark red liquid seeping from their lifeless bodies. They were definitely dead. You exchanged a tense glance with Nestor before carefully stepping around the bodies, doing your best to avoid the sticky crimson trails that marked the floor. Together, you crept toward the door, steeling yourselves as you slowly pushed it open.

The room seemed spotless, unnaturally so—far too clean and orderly, as if no one had ever lived here. The bed was pristine, untouched, with not a single wrinkle to suggest anyone had even sat on it. The shelves were bare, devoid of trinkets or personal effects. In fact, there wasn't a soul in sight.

"Huh," you muttered. "See? This is why I said we should ask more than one perso—"

Your words were cut short as something heavy and ceramic smashed into your helmet, breaking into shards and sending you stumbling back, ears ringing. Nestor instantly drew his sword, the blade flashing as he braced for an attack, eyes darting around for the ambusher.

Shaking off the dizziness, you steadied yourself, blinking to clear your vision. Standing before you was a tall, blonde woman, her gaze sharp and unyielding, clutching another urn in her hands, poised to throw it again if you made a wrong move.

"Hey, hey!" You raised your hands slowly, keeping your voice low and steady, as though calming a feral animal. "We're here to help you—"

She shifted her weight, winding up for another throw, eyes narrowing.

"We come from Greece. We're here to get you home."

For a tense moment, her fierce gaze softened just slightly, though her grip on the urn didn't waver. Her eyes darted toward Nestor, clearly sizing him up.

"Drop your sword," she commanded.

With a wary glance in your direction, Nestor hesitated before lowering his weapon, his muscles tense, ready for anything.

"You're Helen, right?" you asked gently. She nodded, weariness and distrust shadowing her face as she held back any words.

"I'm [Name], and this is Nestor," you continued. "We need you to come with us so we can get you out of here." Your voice was soft, soothing, and you could see her shoulders relax, if only slightly. She nodded, a glimmer of hope breaking through her guarded expression.

"We won't hurt you. I promise," you assured her. Then, noticing the urn she clutched so tightly, you added, "You uh– you can bring the urn with you, if it makes you feel safe."

Helen gave you a small, grateful smile, a gesture that held more weight than words ever could.

The three of you moved swiftly through the palace halls, carefully distancing yourselves from the bloodshed and chaos unfolding outside. You kept to the shadows, ensuring no one would spot you sneaking her away. It was not just about hiding her from prying eyes—it was about sparing her from the weight of war, shielding her from the crushing burden of its cruelty.

Once you reached the bottom floor, the stench of blood and scorched flesh hit you like a wave. Screams of terror mingled with the guttural war cries of your comrades, a cacophony that filled the air with raw, frantic energy. You were so close to the battle now that you could almost feel the clash of steel and the heat of the flames licking at your skin.

Nestor, ever the protector, guided Helen carefully through the chaos, urging her to avert her eyes from the carnage around her. Instead, he directed her gaze toward the outer wall of the palace, acting as a shield from the violence. You were right behind them, moving swiftly yet deliberately, every step calculated to keep you unseen, just in case the tide of battle turned in an instant.

From the corner of your eye, you caught sight of your brother. He seemed to be holding his own, knocking a soldier to the ground and plunging his sword into his chest. But then you saw it—the glint of another soldier creeping up behind him, blade raised. Without a second thought, you dashed forward, ignoring Nestor's shouted warning. Your hand was already on the soldier's throat, pulling him away, before you drove your own blade through him, ending his life in one swift motion.

The heat of battle surged through your veins as you stood protectively by your brother's side, heart pounding.

He turned to you, his face caught somewhere between pride and frustration. "Why did you do that? I could handle him."

Adrenaline still surged through your veins, your hands trembling as you struggled to catch your breath. "I gave you strict orders to stay out of harm's way."

"But you're my brother! You think I could just stand by and do nothing?"

"Right now, I'm your captain," he snapped, his tone sharp but cracking slightly. "You wanted to play, so play by the rules."

"And what, let you die in front of me?" Your voice was thick with anger and fear, words spilling out before you could stop them. He let out a long sigh, and the hardness in his eyes softened.

"Thank you." His voice was low, and the weight behind it made it feel genuine.

"Where's Helen?" he asked, already moving purposefully toward an unknown destination. He motioned for you to follow.

"She's with Nestor." You glanced back in the direction you'd come from, searching for them. They were nearly halfway along the path. "They're almost there."

"Good."

"And where are we headed?" you asked as the two of you began to climb a steep stone staircase, spiraling up the tower.

"We need to make sure that no body's left in here."

As you both reached the top of the stairs, an icy wave washed over you, seizing your breath and making you shiver. The hairs on your arms and the back of your neck rose as your heart pounded, faster than it had all night. Instinctively, you squeezed your eyes shut and raised your arms, bracing yourself against the oncoming figure that had lunged at you without warning. But the blow never landed.

You opened your eyes, but the hallway before you was empty, lined with tall windows on one side, dimly reflecting your tense, wide-eyed expression. You turned to your brother, searching his face for any sign that what you'd just felt wasn't a trick of the mind. His expression mirrored your own: pale, unsettled.

"Who... was that?"

An eagle screeched, its call slicing through the silence as it landed on the nearest window sill. Behind it, lightning split the sky, though not a drop of rain had fallen. Its piercing gaze settled on you and your brother, unnervingly focused and unwavering. Despite being just a bird, it exuded a presence that filled the room—a silent authority that commanded attention. You didn't need to study it to know exactly who it was.

"A vision of what cannot be avoided; it can only be faced here and now."

"What do you mean?" You turned to fully face it, anxiety flickering with a reluctant curiosity.

The eagle's gaze lingered on you, heavy and unreadable, like a storm about to break. "I don't think you're ready," he said, his voice low, every word sharp. "A mission to kill someone's son, a foe who won't run—this enemy is unlike anyone you've faced before."

"Say no more, we're ready." Your brother's voice was firm as he stepped toward the door at the far end of the hallway. Without a moment's hesitation, you fell into step behind him, your resolve matching his. The eagle, ever watchful, soared next you two, its wings slicing through the air outside the palace as it followed your every move.

Odysseus gripped the handles of the door with all his strength, mentally bracing himself for whatever awaited him on the other side. You, too, clenched the hilt of your sword with equal resolve, your knuckles white, a silent promise to face whatever came next.

"I don't think you're ready," the voice echoed, repeating its warning from before.

He finally burst through the doors, the force of his entry sending a powerful gust that dissolved the eagle in an instant, vanishing as if it were nothing more than smoke in the wind.

In the room, there was nothing more than a crib, with toys scattered haphazardly around the floor. It was a miracle no one had entered this room earlier.

"It's just a boy. What sort of imminent threat could he possibly pose?" your brother murmured, his voice softening, as did your stance. There was no immediate danger there.

You approached the crib slowly, cautiously—taking care not to startle the child inside.

Through the single window, clouds swirled and shifted, forming the vague silhouette of the King of the Gods himself. His voice, deep and commanding, filled the room as if he were standing right there with you. "This is the son of Troy's prince Hector. Know that he will grow not just to a man, but to an avenger. One consumed by rage, as time itself consumes him. If you do not end him now, there will be no one left to save. Say goodbye to everything you hold dear."

Finally, you reached the crib and peered inside. It was just a small infant, his eyes still closed, sleeping peacefully—blissfully unaware of the storm that loomed beyond those four walls.

"I could raise him as my own." Your brother was quick to offer a solution, but the god was quicker with a retort, sparking a back-and-forth that left no room for doubt: Odysseus didn't want to face the consequences of what the god was implying.

"He will burn your house and throne."

"I could send him far away from home."

"He'll find you wherever you go."

"We'll make sure his past is never known."

"The gods will make it known."

"I'm begging you, please! Please don't make me do this!" Odysseus' voice broke, desperation rising in him as his last options bled dry. There was only one choice left, and he knew it, and you knew it.

The god's final words rang through the air, cold and unyielding. "The blood on your hands is something you won't lose. All you can choose is whose."

[3liza]

Fired on Mars is alright, I especially appreciate any that it's (so far) non-space opera sci fi on a major network, an extreme rarity, especially since the Expanse turned into another ghost alien fuckaround because American audiences are too stupid to deal with realistic science fiction and think "Star Wars" qualifies. but it's really struggling as an "adult animation" production. I'm not sure if this was pitched as a live action or not but it doesn't have any reason to be animated except budget. not sure what else Max network has going on these days but you can't help but see a real show with proper production sort of superimposed on top of the simplistic and frankly boring animated backdrop. that's a real shame. they tried to split the difference by styling the drawings very buttoned-down, but it has none of the design sense of even Rick and Morty and it isn't funny enough for the writing to stand on its own, so theres just not a lot to hold onto.

the serious plot that kicks in at episode 5 reminds me a hell of a lot of the recent walking simulator, The Invincible, an adaptation of Stanislav Lem's story by the same name, with a really good surface of Mars sequence and excellent soundtrack, so I hope that's the direction the show is taking now.

it makes me think about the actual logistics and expense of filming something like this with practicals and some CGI. one of the benefits of doing something like realistic space station or mars colony stories is that you can build an incredibly cramped set and film everything on it, Cube-style, because these colonies would be modular and extremely cramped, just like NASA infrastructure is now. you could really go crazy styling a very beautiful set or soundstage that was only a few connected rooms and corridors and then just recycle them intelligently. outdoor shots in the local desert, composite out any plant life, roads, or gas stations, grey out the sky. Fired on Mars has blue sky and big cumulus clouds and initially I wasnt sure if that's referencing some sort of atmospheric control by the colony or if they screwed up or if it was focus group/producer meddling, but I looked it up and the actual Martian sky is more complicated than I assumed:

Since Mars is roughly 1.5 astronomical units from the Sun, the amount of light on the surface is about half that on our planet. Under low illumination conditions, our eyes shift sensitivity towards blue because we change from using color-sensitive “cone” cells to color-blind “rod” cells. This is known as the Purkinje effect. Hence, the first astronaut to land on Mars would probably describe its sky as even bluer than one might expect.

so anyway I think the show is ok. I stopped after watching episode 5 to write this, since this episode has taken the show in a much more interesting direction than I saw in the previous four. maybe it'll pleasantly surprise me

[the-hydroxian-artblog]

As someone who doesn't usually visit your streams, what's your breakdown for making such dynamic shots? Would love to hear a little bit about your process of creation.

I wish I had a well written answer, but I kinda just wing it. Okay I guess I think of like, increasing or decreasing fov in a video game. The more intense the dynamism, the stronger the fov. You can make an energetic pose with good sense of gesture with a readable line-of-action, but a very flat fov, which works for "normal" drawings. Increasing fov adds intensity by exaggerating the distance between objects.

Unfortunately, for actual drawing, I don't have a strong, conscious process. I kinda just try a rough draft, and if it's not dynamic enough, try to think critically about whether the limbs seem to properly flow together with the gesture or adhere to perspective, and redraw whatever doesn't work. I'm crudely simplifying all the process in this post because I've practiced a lot of this to the point of it being second nature, which sounds cool but like, I have to stop myself and really think if I wanna actually understand what I'm doing.

It's also a lot easier to do when it's a character with a bodytype I'm confident in drawing. Some days I just can't make the strong fov-look work, and go with something flatter so that it'll actually be on-model. One tip I suppose: Drawing solid red boxes and circles over the refs clients give me can help in getting all the proportions right, and I get a little more comfortable with more dynamic shots again.

[inferencesarchives]

hiii!! congratulations on 100 followers!! for your lovely event, could i get prompt number 7 with royal margarine cookie and a fem reader? also, could i be 🌷 annon?

Beautiful.

royal margarine cookie x fem reader

lilmissytealbow asked: Can you do Royal Margarine Cookie x Fem reader. With her freckles on both sided cheeks

prompt: "you're the most beautiful person i've ever laid eyes on."

warninga: mentions of food, bullying/mean townspeople, physical touch, petnames (sweetie, my dear, darling)

You could sense them.

Their stares, etching into the back of your skull.

You could hear them.

Their whispers, spreading judgement and discontent about you.

It was too much. It was all too much.

You did everything you could to ignore them, ignore their hatred, but even you had your limits.

You had spent most of your day today out and about Dragon City, running various errands and chatting with some friends you happened to run into. You thought that today was going to be a good day.

It started in the afternoon. You were peacefully sitting and eating your lunch at a table outside a quaint little restaurant you often frequented, when you overheard a conversation between some girls across the street.

"Hey, isn't that..." "It is! It's her!" The two of them seemed to be whispering to eachother, but they were still loud enough to hear. When you looked up, both of the girls were looking at you, so you gently smiled and waved at them. However, after you greeted them, the two girls shot eachother almost disgusted looks before walking away. Although their actions confused you, you hoped it wouldn't occur again and went about your day.

But then it happened again. And again. And again and again and again.

And the more it happened, the more confused and worried you got. Why was everyone staring at you? Why was everyone whispering about you? Why did everyone seem repulsed whenever they looked at you? Why-

"You don't deserve it!" some random girl suddenly yelled at you as she purposefully blocked your path. You were stunned. Confused, you asked her, "I... Don't deserve what?"

"You don't deserve anything, idiot!" The girl groaned and rolled her eyes at you, "You have practically everything that anyone in town could ever want, but you didn't do anything to deserve it!"

When you heard those words, said with such malice and hatred, you fell silent.

After a few moments of not knowing how to respond, you bolted back home.

Quickly, you placed everything you bought onto the kitchen counter before rushing to your bedroom to let it all out.

You practically collapsed into your bed, choking out pitiful sobs. They were right. Everything everyone said about you was right. You didn't deserve anything. You did nothing to deserve what you had.

You must have sobbed for hours. You must have been so absorbed in your own self-doubt for you to not notice someone entering the room.

Then, suddenly, you were enveloped in a familiar warmth. Suddenly, you heard a familiar voice trying to comfort you.

"Hey, sweetie, what's wrong?" your husband, Royal Margarine Cookie, gently asked you. You couldn't bring yourself to respond. "You know you can tell me anything, right? No matter what's troubling you, I'll always listen to what you have to say." He pulled you closer to him.

Gingerly, he caressed you and whispered reassurances in your ear. "Hey, it's okay. It'll be okay. Everything will be okay. Just let it all out, my dear. It's alright. I'm here. I'll always be here for you."

After who knows how long, your sobs eventually died down, yet you still clung desperately to your husband. "Now that you've calmed down a bit, mind telling me what's wrong, darling?" Royal Margarine Cookie whispered in your ear.

Quietly, you informed him of your insecurities and what people were saying about you, your voice still hoarse and shaky from crying. "Everyone was saying that I don't deserve anything, and, as much as I hate to admit it, I know they're right."

Suddenly, Royal Margarine Cookie gently grapped your chin and looked you in the eye, a serious expression on his face. "No, they're wrong. Everything they said is wrong," he paused for a moment to kiss your freckles and wipe away any stray tears falling from your eyes, "You do deserve this. You absolutely deserve everything that you have. You deserve the world.

"You're beautiful. You're the most beautiful cookie I've ever met, and you deserve the world."

a/n: DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW MUCH BRAINROT YOUVE GIVEN ME WITH THIS SINGLE REQUEST 🌷 ANON. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA ily 🌷 anon i almost cried while writing this ty also im pretty sure this is the longest fic ive ever written ooo yay

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[stardustspell]

Would love to hear more about your original writing work!

-justatinycollector

Omg!! Hi @justatinycollector !! It's so lovely hearing from you! WOW REALLY?! AHHH! Thank you so much!! Let me just--

An Excerpt from When They Fall - Current WC: 157k Genre: Science Fiction/ Fantasy, Action, Cosmic horror

"From the Memory of Ilya Ko’vach Siran, Crown Prince of the Solarian Empire

Sol Date: September 16, 2233

Since it was a quiet night on the edge of neutral space for once,  Ilya completed his patrol of the Xenith quadrant on auto-pilot. With his boots kicked up on the console, he leaned back in his chair as he watched the viewport as keenly as he cared to. 

Which was, admittedly, not very much.

The Earth’s single satellite was thousands upon thousands of miles away, but he could see it as clear as day through the view screen. As far as moons were concerned, it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. It was a lifeless, inhospitable cold rock with two terraformed military bases on the light and dark side. At one point when they’d first arrived, they’d nearly taken it—if only they had, Vera S’al Inarik, his sister, would still be alive.

But he closed his eyes and let out a deep breath and adjusted the trajectory of his mobile suit to sling-shot him as close to the edge of neutral space as he dared. In the meantime, he maximized the view of Luna as he drew further and further away from her. All silvery pale white, like a pearl held in stasis between invisible fingers.

Unlike Earth, Solaris had five satellites. Of them only three, Candria, Orüm, and Gôthé were colonies. Māré Leith, the Green Daughter, was the home of Varine d’ol Mokhoth, the Watchtower of the Goddesses inhabited only by priestesses, and the fifth was Varādos.

Stepping foot on this moon was expressly forbidden—and for very good reason. It was a chunk of tidally locked iron with a noxious atmosphere, brimming with monstrous beasts. On the homeworld, it was called the Eye of the Void.

“We should just go back,” Soren K’el Dobrevnik  grumbled, his voice slightly static-y in his ears. They had been friends since childhood—he was the son of Duke Verrick gôl Darenwyn of Corellon, a planet in the Protareon system—about three hundred light years from Solaris. “The Terrans have crawled back to their little hideyholes and we’ve been at this for hours.” 

“Do you want to explain to Vice Admiral Forza why we didn’t complete our perimeter?” 

There was a beat of silence before, “no.” 

“Then I suggest you take it easy.” 

“Whatever, my liege.”

An Excerpt from Rage in the Deep - Current WC: 6K Genre: Contemporary Speculative Fiction/Paranormal Romance

“So, you’re sure you want to do this?” Cas asked, shooting Emma a raised brow from across the table. With her long sheaf of black hair, willowy graceful figure, and delicately sloping monolid eyes, Cas looked practically elven. 

We’d gotten a booth at one of those popular LA haunts where you could occasionally spot celebrities if you looked hard enough. I’d seen Mandy Moore here once two years ago with some guy who was allegedly her agent.

“Like, Maine is in the middle of nowhere. What are you even going to do there? Fish? Attend Stephen King conventions?” 

“I’m positive,” I sipped at my pomegranate marg. The warm spring breeze suffused the covered outdoor patio space with the fragrant scent of jasmine, asphalt, and smog. “But it'll probably be less fishing and more YouTubing how to repair damaged electrical circuitry.” 

Cas wrinkled her nose as if she'd rather have a smelly sock taped to her face in perpetuity than do anything like that herself.

“Living in a lighthouse for a year’ll be cool,” Emma said, rolling around liquid amber whiskey in her glass. Emma Salter was A Working Actress (trademark) and had been on six episodes of Game of Thrones season 6 as a noble woman in King's Landing and Margot Robbie’s body double on the last two projects she’d filmed in town. “Are you gonna have Wi-Fi?” 

“Yep,” I popped the p. “We can still chat over Discord, so it won’t be like I disappeared into the Bermuda Triangle or anything like that.”

“Sweet,” She nodded. 

“And, you are coming back to LA after, right?” Cas asked, eyes round. We’d only known each other for a couple of months, but she’d been one of the few folks I’d met here who hadn’t turned out to be a massive flake. 

“Maybe,” I told her quietly. “I guess I’ll have to see.” 

“See…what?” 

I looked up at her and smiled. “If I run out of road.” 

An Excerpt from Throwing Down the Gauntlet - Current WC: 7.5k Genre: Contemporary Adult Romance / Comedy

LARP (noun): An acronym which stands for Live Action Role Play, and is a type of interactive role-playing game in which the participants portray characters through physical action, often in costume and with props.

Followers: 126.2k

I was on break at my second job when I checked my TikTok notifications. To my surprise, they had been going off every ten seconds since 11AM, not thirty minutes after I posted the short we'd filmed at Molly’s. Heart hammering in my ears, I scrolled all the way to the beginning of the notifications to understand what had kicked it all off, only to find that Highland Leathercrafts had been mentioned… by Henry Martineaux.  My stomach bottomed out.  You have got to be joking. 

I clicked on his comment. 

Working Leather Shop and Armory [2 hours ago]

Wow—great tooling. Reminds me of @ TheOldeCeltic's work! 

The Olde Celtic [2 hours ago]

@ WorkingLeatherShopandArmory It is my work! I made this design in collaboration with @ highlandleathercrafts. Good eye!

Their conversation continued until I didn’t care to follow it anymore. I clicked out of the thread and scrolled past all of their conversation notifications until I reached the landslide of comments and shares. It began with Henry himself sharing Highland’s TikTok on his page. 

On the video he'd posted, he'd added the text…That’s a great sporran if I’ve ever seen one. 

My expression had settled into a scowl as I clicked out and sat back in the foldout chair, pulling the elastic out of my hair and shaking out the ponytail with my fingers. Gaze sticking on the moldering mustard stain on the break room ceiling, I clenched and un-clenched my jaw.

Any attention is good attention—even if it comes from a guy who constantly spoils your product launches. I repeated this like a mantra until the words became meaningless and had done absolutely nothing to soothe my terrible mood.

[kukuma-kit]

Audacious Venerate[Teaser]

Lo'ak

┯━━━━━━━━━━ ●●● ━━━━━━━━━━┯

☆: * parings: College, Human! Lo'akx Human!Reader

☆: * warnings: some angst maybe, cursing, fighting, arguing, I think that's all? lemme know if there's more ☆: * Characters: Lo'ak, Neteyam, Tuk, Kiri, Jake, Neytiri, Ronal, Tonowari, Their chlid (Ali'Imalu, no that's not the baby's original name) ☆: * Wordcount: 744

☆: * Na'vi glossary: work in progress

☆: * Note(s): This will be a series! I atleast hope to make it a series, I wanna first release a Teaser of it tho to see how it'll go:) Prt.1 | prt. 2 | prt. 3

┷━━━━━━━━━ ●●● ━━━━━━━━━┷   ☆: * summary: Leading off to a bad argument with Ao'nung causes a scene with the boys, it this how y'all get close or do y'all just stay friends?  You and Lo'ak never even knew each other, y'all eventually met through a mutual friend, kind of. Unless you call picking an argument with Metokaina's delinquent, is what you and your friend group call him, Ao'nung. Which was a month ago that you were arguing with that knucklehead.

  You didn't sign up for it but it was the only class open, swimming class. Atleast you met a sweet girl, her name was Tsireya and she was helping you, you've heard of her from your times babysitting Ao'nung's little sister, Ali'imalu, Ali for short. That's actually how you met Ao'nung as well, wasn't really a great start either but Tsireya was very patient and extremely sweet with you.

  "REYA! YOU'RE GONNA DROP ME!!" you wailed out in terror as she lead you to the deep end, she chuckled softly making you glare at her.

  "Tis all right, I have you" She reassures you, and without knowing that Ao'nung and his friends were in the deep water as well. Seeing your protests, he comes over.

  "you are not a good diver, maybe good at clea-" He starts off looking to the side till Tsireya splashed him with water making him glare at her.

  "Ao'nung, be nice. she's learning" She defends you, accidentally loosening her grip which makes you slip and panic. "REY!" You started panicking and both the siblings go to get you but you almost pulled Tsireya down with you which lead to Ao'nung having to save you.

  Trust me, you rather have his Rotxo dollartree ass holding onto. Which later on brought you to now standing on the outside bridge that connected to the gym and 8,000 building. Arguing with Ao'nung, more like insulting each other.

  "You two faced fish lipped freak! You don't even know math!" you hissed.

  "Atleast I didn't cling onto my sister and almost drown!!" he hissed back, no matter how many times y'all insulted each other, he never made fun of you almost drowning till now .....   Ao'nung quickly realized what he said, but you weren't paying mind to him. You were truly scared that day, it took you MONTHS to get back into that water, Ao'nung when helped. Although he would insult and poke at you, he could be nice but you were hurt. As anger threatened to consume you, Ao'nung tried to step closer but you stubbornly refused to let him get any closer, desperately holding back tears of both frustration and pain.   "Don't." you spoke firmly, voice cracking. You couldn't even process your actions before it was too late. A loud smack against flesh echoed through the air, your palm stinging from the impact. Ao'nung backpedaled towards the railing in fear. Just then, the doors opened and your heart sank as you forgot basketball practice was in right now. Two tall lean, dark-tanned boys swaggered in, their muscles bulging beneath their clothes. One had dreads flinging across his face, the other's hair tied back in a sleek man bun. They were chatting and laughing like nothing was wrong, but you didn't have time to run off.   "Dude, did you catch that insane trick shot?!" The younger sibling's excited voice trailed off as he noticed his older brother's intense stare at the two figures ahead. That's when you started bawling, Ao'nung grunted and rose to his feet. Lo'ak rushed to your side while Neteyam followed closely behind. Ao'nung received a fierce glare from Lo'ak seeing him try to get close as Neteyam checked on your well-being, the tension in the air noticable.   "are you okay?" He spoke softly as he gave you your space seeing you nod, Lo'ak was fumming and he normally didn't care but it was Ao'nung, they just got into a fight last week and a half.   "what? are you bullying girls now?" He huffed out as he gritted his teeth. You were quick to speak up holding lo'aks forearm softly."no, no..Ao didn't do anything, we're friends" you quickly reassure, making the two look at you in confusion as you motion to Ao'nung to leave. You began to explain to the two what happened, leading to Neteyam patting your back in comfort as you cry into your arms while explaining what happened.   You didn't tell them the full story though, you didn't know them that well. It was getting late so you told them you had to go, surprisingly they also lived in the same neighborhood so Neteyam offered to walk you and Lo'ak agreed. __________________________________________________ Tried a new writing form, let me know how it is! This has more Ao'nung dialogue then my last 2 stories😭(you don't know how hard this teaser gave me a hard time) please do not use my stories, reblogs and feedback are welcome and appreciated !:)

[erysvoleil]

Y'know, pact's explanation for single-gender Wizard Bloodlines of "Supernatural entities have a hard time telling humans apart, so they use gender as a bit of a cheat-which means if you have same-blood same-gender Lineages you can make them think they're still dealing with the same person, extending any agreements in Perpetuity" is pretty cool but it's also like. Very Cis. But I think it's Very Cis in a way that could easily be in-universe Very Cis-one of those "guidelines people have worked out that are descriptive but very much not the whole story" that wildbow's good at writing. Like, what is it that Others are actually looking at to check gender? Presentation? Genitals? Hormone balance? Identity? If you put Peter in drag and gave him two months of voice training, could he function as "the Thorburn diabolist"? What if you put him on estrogen? What if you gave him a womb transplant? What if he still identified as a man after all of that? And also, in reverse, how many T shots would you have to give Molly before The Barber wouldn't respond to her, or would a dollar store mustache and a wifebeater do the trick?

Does it depend on the kind of Other? Do fae generally only care about presentation, since that's their entire schtick? Do goblins generally go for presentation but try to pants you to "check," since they're the very worst of humanity? Do angels and demons, with their higher awareness and sentience do some kind of cohesive overall judgement based on every factor they see-cultural standards, presentation, biology, identity, the soul, etc.? Do spirits with their Higher But Limited Awareness only look at identity? Imagine jostling for twenty years, overcoming your siblings, to become Head Of The Family only to be unceremoniously cast out because the Great Woodland Spirit your family serves looked right past your soul and figured out you were trans before you did. Imagine being a trans practitioner in general. Do you have to split up Others three ways between those that see you as your assigned gender, those that see you as your actual gender, and those that see you as both or neither or something else? Are there Others that can tell the difference between a cis woman and a trans woman by like looking at history or thoughts or some sense of Actions Done? Are there then practitioner bloodlines that can only be passed down trans father to trans son? Imagine being nonbinary. Imagine your parent being nonbinary. Imagine having to figure out how to replicate your predecessor's fuck-ass gender situation to the standards of a fucking kraken they bound because if you don't it'll go berserk.

Is this an avenue of attack that's used in inter-family wars? Are there enchantment tricks or soul-carving a la Barbatorem that let you fuck with someone's connection to their own gender? Can you reach in and futz with someone's connections to the outside world, to other people, so that everything that comes back to them on a gender level is Wrong-literally give them dysphoria? If you polymorph or bodyswap the head of an enemy family, does that fuck over their deals with Others? Do you render them mostly powerless? Do some families have protections against this-clauses in contracts with their Others, or only dealing with Others that see to the identity level? Have trans people in history used Others/The Practice in general to transition? How does that play in with all of this? Where do Others' pronouns come from? Do they change with cultural understanding of gender? Do they change with language? Are they arbitrary based on whatever the observer thinks is most appropriate or do the Others themselves have gender identities? Does it, like so much, depend on the Other?

When is pact gender studies class

[stars-n-spice]

It's cuffing season so here is a list of why Wrecker is literally the perfect partner

for a 4'11, Korean Mexican, probably neurodivergent introverted individual

His height. He can reach all the things I cannot even if he would probably tease me about it. I won't have to climb on the counters to get stuff from the cabinets or make a fool out of myself in grocery aisles when something I need is on the top shelf. I could ask him to carry me on his shoulders to experience being tall for once (only to probably get scared because that's too high up). I just think it'll be beneficial. Not to mention on my knees I am the perfect height to [gets shot].

His size. The sheer build of this man compared to mine is fucking crazy and I think about it a little too much. But without getting NSFW,, he's like a portable heater and a weighted blanket wrapped in one big teddy bear. I'd sleep so well engulfed in his arms (though it might stress him out every morning, waking up and thinking "Oh shit, I hope I didn't crush them-") because it probably feels very warm and very safe. I stupidly made fun of my mom for being cold all the time one day and karma got my fucking ass so now I'm cold all the time, but Wrecker practically radiates heat. Also we both definitely have size kinks so it works in out favor ahahaha.

His Emotional Intelligence. Wrecker's incredibly intelligent and especially with his emotions and other people's emotions. Meanwhile my emotional intelligence is,,, uh, not that good. So not only could he probably help me work on it but because he has such a high emotional intelligence I just think he'd be able to understand me in ways others can't/don't. I say that because I'm very touch adverse and Wrecker is a very physically affectionate guy, but I think he'd catch on quickly that I'm not always comfortable with hugs and shit without me telling him (because I can't bring myself to tell people "Hey, I actually don't like that.") and would be able to adjust so that I'm comfortable. Also I just think he'd be able to tell when something is bothering me and instead of confronting me about it (which will freak me out and make things worse) he'd just try to distract me from it or get me to lighten up with some jokes or something. Also, he's a demolitions expert so I can imagine that he's incredibly cautious and patient and that's exactly what I need because fuck, it'll take some time for all the walls to come down.

Similar Interests. I'd like to think that we'd have somewhat similar interests. I could see him enjoying action and animation films/TV shows. You wanna have a Kung Fu Panda marathon? Say no more. We are quoting things and making references left and right. Wanna get into our matching Sonic pajamas and watch Sonic Prime? Definitely. Yes. Done deal. We're info dumping about fixations to each other, I'm watching him play Minecraft because if I play it, I get nauseous, he's listening as I give him a PowerPoint presentation about the MCU. We're going to interactive science museums for stimulation, I'm taking him to the Montery Bay Aquarium and the San Diego Zoo (and the Safari Park) and telling him cool animal facts the entire time while he gets to enjoy seeing all the awesome creatures. He's so down to go camping and hiking, which is great because I do a lot of that. Personality wise we are not the same but I'd like to think that we would enjoy a lot of the same things. Idk,, basically ADHD and Autism solidarity.

He's a morning person. Again, opposites attract because I am most definitely not a morning person by any means. I'm staying up all night writing and watching Markiplier play FNAF while he snores away and in the morning he's up at like fucking 6 am to run or something while I sleep until the afternoon. Bonus points if he feeds my cat in the morning, my cat and I will love him forever if he does. Idk, I just think that'll be nice.

He'll eat well with me. Every day I thank the gods that I am Korean and Mexican because I really fucking won in terms of food. On top of that, I've got access to a WIDE variety of different cuisines because thank god I'm not in the middle of butt fuck nowhere with no access to anything good. Like when my family goes camping we're taking a whole Korean BBQ restaurant with us! We aren't going to eat beans out of a can, you're fucking crazy. Anyways, he'll have all the meat in the word because holy fuck do Koreans eat a lot of meat. I also like to think that he LOVES spicy food too (even if he can't handle it all that well). And wouldn't you know, Koreans and Mexicans fucking LOVE their spice. Man is eating SO WELL and I stand by him needing someone who can give him GOOD food in generous amounts. Like after seeing him so full after eating on Pabu and having that sushi I was like, oh that man is in for a TREAT.

My family would love him. I also grew up in a big family with lots of siblings so I think that we could bond over that. My family is also pretty nice and accepting too, they'd have fun with him.

He'd think I'm cool. This is a completely selfish point but oh well. Sometimes I beat myself up over being so childish and shit but then I'll think about how Wrecker wouldn't give a shit whether or not I have dinosaur themed bed sheets. He'd think that's the coolest thing ever. He'd be in complete awe of my stuffed animal collection and would think I'm the coolest person ever. It just helps sometimes, idk,,

Anyways-

Those are like,, the main points

I probably think about him too much and sometimes I'm absolutely devastated by the fact that he's not real because he's literally perfect for me </3

Don't get me wrong, I'm probably most definitely aroace but,, idk he just seems to be an exception

[bijouxcarys]

hey! I was interested in writing an story but I'm sooo nervous on doing it. Can you give me some tips? Such as pacing, sequencing, descriptions, plot, grammar, punctuations, etc

i'll been reading your roman fanfic and you're a great writer

Hey! So sorry this took a minute to answer, but I've been away and I wanted to make sure I gave you a meaningful response!

First of all, thank you so much for the kind words about my Roman fic; I'm really enjoying writing that, so it means the world when people are enjoying it too :)

Okay, in regards to your question:

The first thing, and the most important thing, is to remember that when you're writing... write for you, and no one else. 10 years of writing fanfiction, and only learned that last year. Write what you want to read. If that makes sense. Don't worry too much about the response from others, because somebody somewhere out there is going to love it! If you're having a good time writing, you've already succeeded.

Secondly, it's very helpful to have some kind of idea how many chapters your story is going to be, if it's even going to have multiple chapters etc... That way, when you're thinking about your story arcs and key events, it'll help with your pacing. You don't want to have too quick of a pace if you're planning to have, say, 25-30 chapters. Development is essential, and that can be achieved through sub-plots, interactions between minor (small, not children lol) characters, etc...

However, if you're wanting to write a one shot for instance, pacing is all dependent on how long you're wanting the one shot to be. I tend to write 7-10k word one shots, and my pacing is relatively slow for a one shot. If you are wanting to write a shorter one shot, my advice is to focus on the action, not so much the characters. It's easier when it's a fanfiction, because you don't need to focus too much on telling an audience who that person is, seeing as they're reading it because they already, assumedly, know them. With the OC, sometimes it can be easier to start by writing a x reader fic, but if that's not your thing, it can be helpful to establish a brief backstory in the intro of your one shot, just so that the audience gets an idea of who this OC is. Obviously, if you're writing a longer one shot or a fic that has multiple chapters, it's usually best to "drip-feed" backstory throughout.

A lot of grammar, punctuation, descriptions tend to improve with practice. Looking at my fics now, you wouldn't think it was the same author of my fics 7 years ago.

PLOT... my god, what a topic. First of all, remember every author that you enjoy runs into issues regarding the plot of their stories. Don't be afraid to change the direction your story is going in, it's your story and plot is flexible. As long as you have an idea of where your story is going to end, or how it's going to end, the bits in between are easier to set up. I know exactly how I want Ties That Bind to end, so figuring out the journey is a little easier. That being said, it's very useful to keep a notebook, or a word document, of all your thought process. Things that you want to happen throughout. Sometimes even drafting out a specific scene you've thought of, and then going back to it when or if you decide to use it down the line.

You didn't specifically ask about this, but I thought I'd mention it anyway: WRITER'S BLOCK.

It happens a lot. To every writer that's ever existed. And it's frustrating. You will get annoyed at yourself when it happens. But, throughout the past 10 years, I've learned that for me, the best way to overcome it, is to step back from it, close the folders on your laptop/whatever you use, and revisit it the next day after a sleep and with fresh eyes. Something else that helps me is creating playlists for the fics! It really does get you thinking about your story and the characters (you can even make playlists dedicated to characters), and at times it's even inspired me to add something else to the story. It also gives you something to listen to that's relevant whilst you're actually writing your story, if that's something you like to do.

Just remember, there's no formula to being a writer. And there's no shame in writing fanfiction, if that's what you're wanting to do. Write for you. This is your time, your moment, your hobby, your thing. Like most things, comfort comes with time and practice.

I hope that was helpful! Please feel free to ask any more questions, if there's something I missed or didn't clarify!

<3

[the-firebird69]

There are a few things that are extremely long and the wrong and it's a problem the biggest problem we have is these people suddenly don't know who they are what they're doing where they're going they're fighting each other like madness and it's gross nobody can seem to talk to them about how stupid they look and what their actions are really doing and how dumb they're being so we figured out they haven't asked land plan no they have a horrible plan they're playing this very evil to us and they don't wanna talk to us 'cause they think we won't hear it but that's not how people get people secret plans. I guess it is with you and that's gross and makes it much worse we hate you for thinking you can do it. Going into your cities and other people are too to dismantle your devices which there are plenty and the meaning of stiff opposition in the numbers are pretty high it's not one percent it's about half of those off island but shortly you will be breached fully And your facilities all compromised and destroyed and tons of you dead it'll amount to probably half a percent of your people in the general population at the same time it's the same number which is a lot in one action and we're using ships and personnel and exo suits robots and more and the max are two and foreigners you're going to be expelled for your connections to these people or simply assassinated and people like Mac Daddy and Stan are associated with you and calling the shots worse and they are going to be captured by the Mac proper and interrogated and the back proper are not expected to do this although they would have to and we noted that some of them are trying to plant their own and they were moved but most of them are pulling yours out they removed my others but here it is you told our son what you're up to what he says is so what he says he says dope addict trump for a long time who reads practically every single shop of his own and people didn't know that but he is not doing well because of it so now you're all screaming the answer is about yourselves and really there's no general direction even so nobody can instantiate you satiate you and nobody can let you do what you want now what's gonna become painfully obvious is you might be threatening an army to infiltrate an army which is some real horse to **** it's a horse and donkey disaster let me in the fortified castle you **** or blow something over there up why the hell would that work it wouldn't so this idiot is drinking this girl's blood on CSI New Orleans or NCIS New Orleans and she's sitting there having to do this stupid **** but they wanna blow themselves up and stuff and she looks dumb so Lily is becoming a little bit stupider but for real this is an **** and I think 0 you odd and minority morlock do a good bunch of it because you're so big they couldn't do anything except wait to die and that's what happens when you do this to people. you giving them no alternative we are now going to start invading areas like Florida and shut you the hell out.

we do arrest minority morlock as well they try in the middle. and are horrible.

Thor Freya

We didn't say the bottom part and it's how it works and he's relieved. Things are horrible what you're doing is horrible what you're saying is horrible and we don't wanna go through it everyday over and over it's too monotonous and you're issuing orders that we don't have to take it we're gonna shut it down. It's begun and you begin attacking each other to try and get it to go and it doesn't do anything.

Nuada Arrianna

We are aware that Trump has caused most of this and he is started most of it and he is aware of all of the bad stuff going on and he is a massive massive liar and two timer and backstabber in your community he is not a trustworthy person in any way and steal stuff loses it every day and it's losing everything he's ever had. Bruises to BJA. He is taking his stashes and cashes and you can hear it this evil talk is his stuff and he is a nasty nasty person and BJA is just starting to hear it. But he's at his stashes and caches and BJA has occupied nine out of the twenty roughly and that's around 11 out of 20 because there's more overseas than just a tad smaller there's more stuff here about 20%. And he is ready to blow 5 of them and he has four and they're almost empty the first 4. It's fighting like hell on all of them and he's ready to blow it the night sometime and it will be a crushing defeat to Trump and his big mouth the Lord does that idiot never shut up and he needs to. Needs to shut up. others are fighting at the tunnels too in the Western Hemisphere there's several groups going after Trump's stuff one of them is the pseudo empire and they're making progress on three of them and they might have it in just a few days if not earlier and before BJ returns and they'll end up using it on Trump to defend themselves and they do need it badly so when they're fighting for it. It is gonna come down to who gets those out and it is going to be people who are not them on almost all of them others are going after them even small groups are kicking their **** at small stashes and caches and they're dwindling fast tonight we expect them to take some massive hits very soon in their cities at the stashes and caches in the eastern hemisphere and Western Hemisphere and also when they're attacking the Pseudo Empire see there's a massive assault that's gonna start on their cities tonight any moment and it's combined and it is going to be to disable their device making it's huge. More shortly

Thor Freya

Olympus

[thejacksmit]

First Take: The Fall Guy - stuntmen get more love than the people who actually put the films on

SYNOPSIS: A down-and-out stuntman must find the missing star of his ex-girlfriend's blockbuster film.

When you have a film which involves a LOT of stunts naturally you have to look to the work of David Leitch- a former stuntman turned director who brought us the insane violence in John Wick, the self referential madness of Deadpool 2, and most recently making Bullet Train entirely during lockdown. So naturally, a film inspired by the TV series of the same name (not a direct reboot as a lot of people think) required a director like him - and while it is a fun film, it's not without a few major flaws.

Leitch does an OK job pacing this film, coming in at 2 hours 5 minutes it gets the job done, but again, like a lot of these major films coming in at the minute, a few cuts here and there wouldn't have been a bad idea. Sadly, Drew Pearce's script just doesn't know what it wants to be, which is a a shame considering how good his other scripts have been - one minute the romance is crucial, the next minute there's a big action setpiece... it feels like a project which has been in development hell for over a decade. It's shot really well by Jonathan Sela (Leitch's DOP of choice) in the way you'd expect with these two collaborating, and the Dominic Lewis score is pretty genius with its integration of a Kiss track which opens the film in style. And then, of course, the stunts themselves. Most of them practical (especially the car roll which has taken the world record from Casino Royale), some using some fairly obvious CG - and stay back during the credits folks, just to see HOW it was all done.

Onto the cast then, and it is fairly obvious that Emily Blunt and Ryan Gosling - the box office saviours of 2023 (with their involvement in Oppenheimer and Barbie) felt like the ideal choice to carry a silly, very comedic movie like this, and with Hannah Waddingham, Winston Duke, Stephanie Hsu, Aaron Taylor-Johnson and Teresa Palmer rounding out a cast who do a really good job with the material given to them, plus without spoiling too much, there are some lovely cameos too for good measure. Tech issues aside, and with a LOT from the trailers not actually making it into the final cut, it's a film which has highlights littered with lowlights - let's just hope that Universal see sense to keep it a one and done entry in the franchise.

THE VERDICT

The Fall Guy is a fun enough film for what it needs to be, one which doesn't take itself seriously - I doubt it'll make much traction in its aim to get the under-the-line talent recognised at a certain award show, and opening now ahead of the big summer window has hurt its chances box office wise. It's a proper Saturday night family outing, not a big blockbuster. It will find its crowd, but it's gonna lose a lot of screens next week in all honesty.

RATING: 3/5