#and among all of the promises and threats. it would only hurt for a moment.

[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 ©

[treaturself]

In the beginning, she’d suspected Harry. How else could she explain every one of her enemies ending up the way they did? It did seem out of character for his new grown-up, rule-abiding self who dreamed of being Head Auror one day. But then again, Harry had always been willing to go above and beyond for his loved ones. They’d always had that in common. 

Her theory was quickly proven wrong, however, after a dinner at Grimmauld Place with him and Ginny last year. She’d spent half an hour ranting about a Ministry café worker who she suspected of slipping Amortentia into her afternoon espressos. Harry listened with serious frowns and promised to file a formal complaint and push for an investigation the very next morning—not exactly the ruthless response she’d envisioned.

The next morning, when the Daily Prophet arrived at her flat, there was no report of any accidents or untimely deaths among Ministry café employees. Later, as she passed by the café, she came face-to-face with the same greasy-faced worker, who greeted her with his usual sleazy smile and a, “Here for your usual, Ms. Granger?”

“Any updates on the creep who’s been dosing me with love potion?” she’d asked Harry the next time she saw him at Friday drinks. As usual, it was just her, Harry, and Malfoy who had shown up on time. 

“We’re pushing it along, I promise,” he’d assured her, though he explained that the Aurors were caught up with chasing Rodolphus Lestrange around the French countryside. Her issue was going to be the next priority, as soon as Undesirable Number One was apprehended and behind Azkaban bars. 

She had nodded, hiding an odd pang that she told herself absolutely could not be disappointment, it was just confusion—until she noticed Draco Malfoy glaring at her, fingers clenching into his glass of firewhisky so tightly that she feared it may shatter in his hands.

“Someone’s been slipping you Amortentia?” he asked, voice low, eyes ablaze.

And in that moment, she’d realized that her heated rants almost always had an audience of two—not just Harry, but also his Auror partner, who seemed to be his constant shadow as of late, ever since they’d worked on that rogue werewolves case together. 

But why would Draco Malfoy go out of his way to hurt people on her behalf? The whole idea was absurd. Completely illogical.

“Yes,” she’d answered slowly anyways, mind still scrambling to connect the dots. “The cafe worker who works afternoon shifts. Not enough to actually do anything, just a drop here and there. I think he’s hoping I’ll be addled long enough to say yes to him asking me out. Unfortunately for him, I’m usually so enamored by the giant heart-shaped pimple on his forehead that I barely hear what he’s saying. By the time he repeats himself, I’m already clear-headed enough to turn him down.”

This was all information she’d already relayed to Harry—information that had led only to professional assurances from Auror Potter about stream-lined investigation request forms and detailed documents he’d handwritten himself. Not a hint of violence or threats thereof.

Yet the morning after Malfoy had found out about her potential poisoner, she opened the Daily Prophet over her breakfast yogurt parfait to find a story on the part-time Ministry café worker who’d been involved in an unfortunate accident; the building’s magic had clashed with the electrical components of a new muggle coffee machine, resulting in a violent explosion that left the worker with severe injuries and burns. But the real tragedy was the small vial of Amortentia tucked in his shirt pocket, which had shattered in the blast. The deadly combination of the explosion, rogue magic, and love potion didn’t just leave him with a disfigured face— it left him cursed with a condition that drove him to seek the euphoria of burning skin, over and over again. Each time the Healers patched him up and restored his flesh, he was compelled to blow himself up again just to chase the high of his skin burning off.

Continue reading chapter 2 on Ao3

[dreamingsnowflake2013]

Xie Wei's greatest fear, the possibility of losing Xue Ning, comes true, and it utterly wrecks him. Her announcing her plans to leave the capital triggers his abandonment issues, because all the lovesick man is hearing is "I'm leaving YOU'.

He doesn't say it out loud, but you know he's offering to put more people on his hit list, especially if they make Xue Ning want to leave him and make her suffer.

He is so desperate not to lose her, he PLEADS with her, not begging for her love or affection, but so she would stay with his; her closeness being enough for him; and promises her anything from keeping her entertained to the extermination/torture of Xue Shu.

This is such a "I like you the way you are" moment a la Mark Darcy. Xue Ning never ceases misjudging and underestimating Xie Wei's feelings for her, thinking that pointing out all the ways she has "burdened" him with what she thinks he considers her flaws - her stubbornness, unruliness, and free spirit - would push him away, but it turns out all the things others have criticized her for, he likes about her; for once, here is someone who doesn't want her to change in any way.

The way he clings onto her, holding her back from running away, and never letting her go the whole time!

Xie Wei trying to convince Xue Ning to stay reminds me of a game of go, he's desperate not lose, but no matter what strategy he uses, he ends up losing (her) more and more. When promising her his protection and punishment of people who hurt her don't work, he uses her love for the people around her to keep her with him. It's heartbreaking how he not only puts himself as the last person that matters, but also that he defines himself as her teacher (partly to hide his true feelings), but mostly because it suggest that among all the people he mentions, he is not her friend nor her family, just a teacher, the only one Xue Ning does not love and the one furthest away from her.

When she pushes him away, refusing to be close to him, the only thing he ever asked of her, it makes his heart shatter.

At this point, Xie Wei throws all his pride out of the window and uses Xue Ning's "ex" and presumably the only man she has ever loved to make her stay, even low-key threating her he would off him if she were to leave. He is so deliciously need and pathetic, so frantic to do anything to keep her by his side.

[muse-write]

Towering Past

Here's my entry for the 2024 Inklings Challenge (@inklings-challenge)!

Jan. 12, 2023

H.,

Sorry for not responding to your Christmas letter…or your New Years’ letter. Really, I am! I know you probably think I’m tired of this method of communication—and I can’t rightly say I’m not—but there was more to my lack of response than sheer avoidance. I know you well enough to know you haven’t watched the local news anytime recently, so you might not have heard about the October explosion on the upper east side of the city. They’re saying it was a bomb planted in the subway system. It took out half the Northern line and a couple of blocks in every direction.

I have my own story to tell about that explosion, but I would sound insane, so I’ll leave this letter at that. And anyway, my hand is hurting from scribbling this letter out in record time now that I feel up to writing at all. You at least know I’m alive and hopefully you believe I wasn’t avoiding responding on purpose.

How are Jen and the kid doing? If you weren’t so set on letters like this you could text me pictures, you know! Why can’t you just call me like a normal person, H.?!

Love,

Frankie

Jan. 17, 2023

Dear Frankie,

Thanks for responding—finally. I was about to hop on a plane or send a strongly worded letter to your commanding officer just to make sure you hadn’t dropped off the face of the earth. I suppose a cellphone would make this kind of thing easier, but we’ve had that conversation too many times to rehash it now. Jen’s doing fine. Eric is running around and getting into trouble, and we both know who he takes after on that score. I always was a good son, Mother always said. If you please, you might want to drop by and visit next time you’re in the area; you might have some tips born of experience for how to deal with a little boy who insists on coloring on the walls.

What a vague way of ending your story; you aren’t saying you were anywhere near the explosion, are you? I know it’s your job and all, but don’t blame a man for getting worried when his sister defuses bomb threats on the daily. Anyway, you know I wouldn’t find any of your stories insane, and you must tell me your version of events. Just don’t wait another two months to do so, or I really will send your CO a letter asking after you.

Glad to know you’re alive,

Henry

P.S. In the envelope is a bracelet Jen borrowed from you a few years back. She was very worried that you thought she was planning on keeping it forever.

Feb. 10, 2023

H.,

I’ll tell you what happened if you insist. But you have to promise me not to laugh. I haven’t told anyone else what happened; I’m not entirely certain it was not a vivid dream. And you know I’m not much of a storyteller, so it won’t rank among your beloved novels. But it will be what happened to me, as accurately as I can put it. Forgive the late letter. This took days to write down.

First off, the explosion wasn’t an explosion at all—so you can put your fears about me being among the defusement team to rest, at least this time. I had woken that morning to a leisurely day, not having so much as a drill to look forward to on my day off, and that meant I had a clear view out the window at the precise moment a tower erupted from the concrete sidewalk only a block or two away from my apartment. When I ran from my complex down the street, I had no thought of entering the tower—I didn’t even know if it was that kind of tower, one that could be entered—but I knew someone had to check it out, and that someone had best be me, with my gun and military training. I brought my Sauer and phone with me (not being a technophobe like you) and approached the tower.

It was not pretty or elegant or admirable in any way. In fact, it was rather ugly, with sharp jagged peaks—I forget what they are called—at the top, and the walls made of black brick—except it wasn’t brick, it was more like marble or stone, lopsided and uneven, like the tower had been thrown and glued together. And it was completely silent. Nothing moved, except at the very tip-top there was a flashing blue light. Like a signal. It didn’t seem to be Morse code or any other signal method I could make out.

And then something moved in the very highest window, and through a pair of binoculars I took from a man next to me (there was a crowd forming by now) I peered up at it and saw that it was a human.

Henry, do you remember Lieutenant Gorsk? A few years back. It was him. Somehow he had found his way into the tower and all the way to the top, and any doubt of my venturing in there was put to rest.

I would find him.

I am ashamed to say that I didn’t prepare. I was so afraid that if I went back home and returned with gear it would prove to be a dream that I marched straight up to the entrance—I know you’ll beg for a real description, but all I can say now is that it was a door, black and wood of some kind, with an ornate gilded knob for a handle—opened it, and walked through, my hand on my Sauer the whole time. I still had the binoculars from the man outside.

This is where it gets insane, H. The interior of the tower was like one of those ancient cathedrals, you know the ones, like in England. The ones tourists go to and exclaim about and take pictures of sunlight streaming through the windows. Though there wasn’t any stained glass here. And the windows—don’t laugh—they didn’t look out onto Seattle, H. They looked onto a completely different world.

I can’t describe it. I can’t remember it all that clearly, either, it’s a huge blur in my head, after the hospital and…anyway, I remember that outside the sky was red—like blood-red, and below there was a dark river, sluggish and black and I didn’t like to look at it for very long, so I turned away and looked at the tower instead. It was Gothic, I guess. You’re the architecture freak. I’ve attached some pictures below, so make of them what you will.

Anyway, I’d entered a large foyer-like hall, with a great staircase sweeping up the far side and climbing the walls in spiraling loops. There were statues in this room, tons of them, but they were—they had such terrible expressions of sadness and terror that I couldn’t look at them for long, either. Even more than the sights, it was the feeling that stays with me, even months later; there was something utterly depressing about the place despite its eerie beauty. It sank deep into my bones and chilled me to the core. But I had to get to Lieutenant Gorsk. I tightened my fingers on the Sauer and began up the stairs, ready for…well, anything. I had no idea what to expect from a place like this.

And what I encountered, I had no way of expecting at all.

What descended down the stairs towards me when I had only climbed a few steps was a horde of—I don’t know what to call them. Demons, I suppose. They were not like the demons you see on church windows under the feet of angels. Some of them almost looked human, but were spindly and covered in scales like lizards or dragons or fish, scales that were matte and dark and reflected no light. Others weren’t human at all, but animal-like, though they resembled no animal I’ve ever seen except that they traveled on four legs, or maybe more. The horde of things surged toward me and I raised my gun to shoot.

I have killed people in my career, H., you know that. I’ve spent entire nights awake in my bed unable to get rid of their faces. I killed these things almost too easily, though the scaled ones gave my bullets some trouble. I had to resort to picking up a sword, fallen on the ground a few feet away from a bleached skeleton, to pierce through the gaps in the armor. It was helpful in preserving my ammo, since I’d only brought the few rounds that were in my gun, and I would need one round for when I reached the top--though I wondered what kind of other world I’d stumbled into. Who had this person been who had ventured in and died with a sword in their hand?

I proceeded up the stairs past the corpses, which were dusting away as though they had never existed in the first place. The tower reared up above me. Along its walls were grotesque tapestries of things I do not wish to remember, and I kept my eyes on the stairs and the gaping doorways I passed, waiting for another horde of demon-like things. I have been a soldier for decades, and never have I been more grateful for it than when I was ascending those stairs. My training kept me safe.

I reached the first landing and had to fight through another horde. I will not describe them all—some of them I don’t remember clearly enough, and others were simply too odd to put into words. All I know is that, with gun and sword, I managed to clear a path up the stairs.

But then one of them got the first hit in. I remember these clearly: three large, hulking things, with mouths like lions and bodies like eagles, large golden wings sending strong wind swirling around the landing. I could not move forward. My bullets barely pierced their hides. My sword could not break through their guard, and one of them sent an arm forward and its claws slashed my shoulder to ribbons. It burned like a gunshot wound, and I knew there was no hope of me defeating all three of them. I could only run and hide and hope they didn’t pursue me, so I turned and left the staircase to venture into the rest of the tower.

This floor was full of branching halls and large empty rooms that smelled of decay. The red sky outside left a garish red tint to everything that unnerved me, but I ran down hallways at random and tried to remember my way back to the stairs in case I lived long enough to return. The lion-eagle creatures chased me, but gave up soon afterward, and vanished into other areas of the tower. I ducked into an empty room and used the relative peace and quiet to inspect my arm. It was bleeding heavily, and I made a note to myself to check it for infection later in the day, assuming I survived that long.

I could have turned around. Abandoned my quest. Left Lieutenant Gorsk up at the top of the tower and returned to the peace of my house, a peace I had fought so hard for and tried to attain for so long. But you know what he did to me, Henry.

At the time, it seemed obvious to me that this was my second chance at justice. My chance to make peace, finally, with what had been done to me, and leave it in the past.

It never occurred to me to wonder how Gorsk had found his way here, or what had been done to him in the process, until much later on that day.

I wrapped my wound in strips from my shirt and hoped it would hold and wished I had some antiseptic, but a dirty shirt would have to do as gauze. Then I tried to creep out of the room, but realized that the door was locked. I had not closed it.

Demons appeared in the room around me, the scaled spindly ones I had fought off before, and I had become used to their movements and attacks and knew with relative certainty how to defeat them. A few strong strikes with a sword would weaken them, a gunshot through the head would finish them off. I would rely mostly on the sword now; I was running low on ammo, and I did not know how many more floors I would have to fight through. I refused to think about the fight back down once I reached the top. There had to be ten demons in the room, and my shoulder was burning and slowed me down, and there were quite a few close calls I prefer not to think about. I don’t know what it would have been like to be killed by one of these things and I don’t want to imagine it. They had sharp teeth meant for ripping and biting, and at some point after I killed a few of these I began tearing those teeth from the corpses’ mouths for extra weapons.

Ten of these demons were more than enough to test me, but with a lot of luck I managed not to die, and had a pocketful of demon teeth-blades to show for it at the end.

The door unlocked by itself as the last demon corpse dusted away.

I ventured back to the stairs, losing my way a few times in the process, and it was amazing what a relief it was to see the familiar grand staircase spiraling up over my head once again rather than the red wash of the old windows. The castle grew darker as I headed further up, and there were less and less windows, and less and less red, until I began to long for the light, eerie as it was. It was never dark enough to blind me, but it was surely dark enough for the shadows to shift and move and look like demons. I have had decades of experience calming terror in combat; this tower tried my nerves in a way I have never experienced before and hope to never experience again. In all of those books you’ve read, have you heard the phrase, “bear wrongs patiently”? In the military, I turned that into a talent. I bore the hazing, the combat, the setbacks and the horror and the fear. I tried to do that here, too, but the tower seemed to steal that control away from me, until even I was left trembling like a little girl surrounded by monsters. I gripped my gun in one hand and my sword in the other and ventured on, wishing more and more that I did not feel such an urge to find the Lieutenant. Wishing that I could be normal and move on from that time.

You can maybe understand why it took me so long to finish writing this letter.

I will leave it at that for now, so that you can get your letter in two months and not feel the need to call up my superiors. Though I think a glare from you, looking like some Oxford don, might just frighten Commander Paik more than all the roughest thugs in the city.

Love,

Frankie

Feb. 18, 2023

Frankie,

I don’t quite know how to start this.

First, let me say thank you for trusting me with your story. I don’t think you’re insane, and I didn’t let out a single chuckle.

Second, I am familiar with that tower. It appeared in my own city—around the time yours did. It looked exactly as you describe, and the pictures confirmed it. It was the same, or one of the same type. I entered the tower, though not at all for the same reasons.

You see, when I looked up at the top of it, in the window I saw Jen. Of course, I couldn’t leave her there.

I did not tell you of this before because I did not wish to worry you or cause you alarm; after all, what transpired became something much greater and more beautiful than I could have imagined when I first stepped through the door.

I sympathize with your quest to get to Lieutenant Gorsk. I remember him very well, and I wish I could have been there too, to punch him in the face (a second time, if you remember!). I don’t know if I can condone your mission, nor the intentions you implied, but after what the man did to you, I can’t say I wouldn’t have considered the same. And considering you are not writing me from a jail cell, I need to know the end of the story as soon as you can bring yourself to give it to me.

I did not bring a gun with me—you know my stance on them well enough—but, as with  you, there were plenty of demons. I have never been a fighter, but I picked up a stray sword and a dagger or two and managed to hide and slip past many, and fought those I couldn’t. It was with a great deal of trepidation that I climbed those stairs—I can only imagine you, flying up them like a goddess of vengeance with wings at her feet! It was an eerie experience for me; the light made everything look as though blood covered it. The sun outside was not—right. It was deep and vibrant and would have maybe been pretty if not for the sickly pallor to the sky around it, like when a tornado is about to touch down.

I deciphered that I had entered a new world a little earlier than you. I had found a storage room to hide in—and what a storage room, with jars and masks and boxes—and could not help reading a few of the files I found stuffed in drawers (I know you’re rolling your eyes at me about now, so stop it!). The files were plain documents, just text written in a crusted brown substance I refused to consider any further than necessary, but I couldn’t read a word of it. It was not Latin, nor Greek, nor any derivation of any language I have ever come across. The letters themselves were indecipherable, and anyway I felt like it was best not to know what was written in them, so I shoved the papers back into their drawers and did my best not to wonder. I am not very good at that, but it was time to move on, and my survival (and Jen’s) relied on not being overly distracted by the theoretical.

I reached the top of the tower perhaps slower than you, but with far fewer injuries (please tell me you went to the hospital, Frankie!), and emerged from the stairs into a long corridor that extended to a single door. This part of the tower was not a maze, as I had discovered in the lower levels; it was very straightforward and clear about where I was meant to go. That door was my destination, and behind it must be Jen, and the window through which I had glimpsed her.

There were no enemies laying wait for me along that corridor, but I fully expected there to be some monstrous creature waiting for me behind the door. I grasped the knob. It swung open easily, terrifyingly easy.

I assume this room looked much the same for me as it did for you—circular walls, broad windows letting in that wash of red light anew, a view of a mountain range of some other world, dark and strange, stretching out beyond. Jen was there, and I called her name, but saw that she could not move, because, though she stood, she was enclosed within a barrier of some sort—her hands, I saw, were burned where she had attempted to push through it. There would be no breaking it.

And then the monster—appeared. I mean that very literally; one moment it was not there, and then I blinked, and it was. I could not make sense of it at first; it did not fit your descriptions at all of any of the demons you encountered. It was hulking and winged, but appeared to be made of chitin all over its body, like an insect has, and blue flame flared from the gaps in this natural armor. It bared teeth—I suppose would be the expression, on something that had such an unnatural face—at me, and there were two rows of sharp needle-like prongs.

This terrified me.

But it held Jen, my wife, the mother of my son, and what would I ever say to Eric if I let this beast harm her, or whatever it planned to do with her? Whisk her away? Kill her? Keep her imprisoned here, like some damsel out of a fairy tale, to lure adventurers with?

I tightened my grip on my sword, feeling a sense of hopeless doom fall upon me (yes, that was the only way to describe it, let me have my sense of poetry once in a while without mocking me, Frankie!). There did not seem to be a way I could triumph over such a foe. But neither could I hide or flee or distract it. So fight I must, even if it led to my own death.

I see no reason to regale you with the battle; there was nothing glamorous about it, as you well know. Suffice to say, I charged at it, which was not a good strategy, and my strategy changed to accommodate this. I was injured (and Jen gave me a good lecture about my stupidity later) and the pain nearly made me sick, but miraculously I managed to stay upright. It was a long battle, the monster was fast and strong and wanted me dead as badly as I wanted it dead, and I was afraid every instant, but eventually I managed to get lucky, and the blade sunk deep into one of those infinitesimal cracks in the monster’s chitin, and with a wrench I managed to twist the blade hard into its heart. That is not a feeling I wish to relive, Frankie.

But in the end, the monster lay there, its breath rattling out, and the barrier simply disappeared, just as the monster had suddenly appeared. Jen could move again—she later told me that the barrier had not been there until, presumably, my hand had touched the door; the monster’s doing, I assume—and she rushed to my side. I have never before felt like a brave man, especially when compared to you, brave sister, and I wish it had not taken such awful circumstances to turn me into one.

Jen told me later that she had no idea where she had been; in a moment she had been whisked from the living room of our house to the top of the tower, and for hours she had been staring out at that dark mountain range and the red sky and attempting to find a reasonable way of climbing out. The door had been locked, and the lock had repaired itself even as she had broken it, and escape seemed hopeless, unless she were to throw herself out, and she had not been quite that desperate yet.

Hearing your story, I simply wonder why? Why was it Jen who was picked up and plopped in that window to send me creeping up the stairs? Why was the same done to Lieutenant Gorsk? Was it a punishment? Or coincidence?

Do you have any theories, Frankie?

Henry

Feb. 30, 2024

Henry,

I never would have imagined that you had had such an experience, or that both of us have been carrying it around with us for months without letting on. We’re both stubborn—well, a soldier’s language isn’t something I want to subject you to, so I’ll leave it there.

When I finally did reach the top—though I don’t think it was so much as a goddess of war as a very frightened, very stubborn military-trained soldier—it looked the way you described it. The same long corridor, the same door at the end, the same suspicious lack of enemies. I had one bullet left in my Sauer, and plenty of demon teeth in my pockets.

Except there wasn’t a monster for me. Maybe the tower had decided I’d had my fill. Maybe the final challenge I encountered was the monster. I don’t know. I didn’t think much of it then. I just knew that odious lieutenant was behind that door, and I needed to get in there and shoot him dead, military protocol be damned.

It was a desire for murder, plain and simple, but I wasn’t thinking about the consequences then. I was thinking about those two years of hell, with the king of demons being Lieutenant Gorsk and his stinking breath and wandering hands and my only savior the friendship of Corporal Alice Lewis.

I turned the door, and there he was. Oddly, he was kept in place by the same barrier you described.

H., have I ever told you how easy it is for me to kill someone with a gun? My trusty Sauer, familiar and worn in my palm, my callouses formed around it, my target in its sights. It’s far easier to pull the trigger on my old friend than it is to take my Swiss knife and stab someone in the guts, but I’ve done both. I was prepared to do either, if it meant ridding the world of someone like Gorsk.

By now it’s been…what? Eight years since I was under his command? Not that long, in the grand scheme of things. Two years of hell, and eight years recovering.

I’ve put him out of my mind as best I can. I had almost imagined that I could go my whole life and think only of moving forward, but that vanished the second I laid eyes on him again. All my old rage and hatred and desire for vengeance came back to me in a moment, and propelled me up those stairs. Maybe in that way I was some goddess of vengeance after all.

My gun was lined up with his temple. He stood there, unable to move, his hands and arms burned by the barrier, knowing that I would be the last sight he saw. There was no doubt in his mind in that moment, I’m sure, that I would kill him.

I did. I did kill him, Henry.

I pulled the trigger and he fell back against the wall. It was a clean, cold kill. The door behind me unlocked, and I stepped out onto the stairs again. Going down, there were no enemies to fight, and I relived the moment I had shot him again and again, and did not regret leaving his body there at the top of the tower. I was victorious, the winner, the survivor, and I had killed the man who had made my life a misery for years.

I returned to my apartment, and the tower…crumbled. It fell, brick by brick, stone by stone, back underneath the city, and left no sign it had ever been there. I was quite satisfied with myself, and didn’t feel guilty about what I’d done until that night, when I remembered suddenly that he had had a wife, the last I had heard. Maybe a son, too, but I’m not sure. The next morning, while I ate breakfast, he appeared in the news—but not news of his death. Instead, there was something about some promotion to Major General, and I stabbed myself with my fork and threw my plate across the kitchen.

I realized what had happened soon after that.

I am not writing this from a jail cell, Henry, because to all intents and purposes Lieutenant Gorsk is still living—in this world, anyway. In whatever terrible, twisted mirror world I found myself wandering through, Lieutenant Gorsk is dead, a bullet’s clean entry and exit wound through both sides of his skull. I know I killed him, and I must live with knowing that I was capable of doing so, that I was fully aware of what I was doing. In my mind, he lies in a pool of spreading blood.

Love,

Frankie

[everlastingdreams]

The Weeping Monk x Reader : Born In The Dawn Chapter 28

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Story Summary: Locked inside a dark room in a dungeon, kept alive only for your power, you believed you’d never see the daylight again. That is until the Weeping Monk finds his way down and steals you from your captors. It is the beginning of a journey that leads you through hardship and newfound hope, but nothing is assured in a world that is changing for the Fey. The magic that runs in your veins is drawing out the worst the world has to offer, does it include the man who pulled you from the dark?

Chapter Title: Burning Hearts

Notes: /

Warnings: Grief. Violence. Torture. Sexual Assault. Rape Threat. Gore. Enemies To Lovers. Pining. Trauma. Flagellation. Manipulation. Strong Language. Blood. Gore?. Misogyny. PTSD. Spicy and smut parts. Slight redemption arc.

Other warnings: Jealousy. Forbidden Love. Romance. Slow-burn…

Word count of this fic: +200K

Chapter:  28/ It’s a secret.

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A joining?

A joining?!?

Matthew had always been someone you were enamored with. Yet, seeing the honey-eyed man now did not cause the same response in you that it used to. Especially not after what you had just learned.

Helio was blind to the shock on your face, and continued to sing Matthew’s praises, “He is a decent man. And I believe his affection for you has grown to match yours.”

It had you lost for words for a while.

He mistook it for being too overjoyed to respond. “I always hoped you would find a love as true as the one I and your mother share.”

It came out louder than you intended to, “No.”

Helio paused, “No?”

“No.” You said again, taking a step back. “There will be no joining.”

He clearly did not expected the response. “I thought you would be happy.”

The betrayal from Matthew was still fresh and this could not have come at a worse time.

“I am sorry, father.” You meant it, he was trying to make you happy and now you had to disappoint him.

You gave him no reason for the change in your feelings towards Matthew, and walked away alone towards the fort.

~~~♡~~~♡~~~◇~~~♡~~~♡~~~

After all that had happened, Matthew sharing your private matters with others was the final straw of your patience.

A joining? With him? You were so upset that you didn’t even want to speak to him again. But you wanted to get this off of your chest first and not let him think that what he did was proper. You found Matthew speaking to a few of the knights in the entrance hall and marched right over to him. They were chuckling among each other amicably, but quieted down when they saw the storm in your eyes.

“How is your nose?” You didn’t actually care in that moment.

“It doesn’t hurt any-” Matthew’s answer was cut short by the slap he received across the face from you. His cheek turned red from the impact.

He was absolutely baffled by the slap that had made the pain in his nose return with a vengeance. “What… why-”

Some of the knights had flinched.

You wasted no time bringing the matter up to him, your voice was loud in the large hall, “Are you telling them about my personal matters too?”

Matthew was quick to understand where your anger was coming from, he got visibly uncomfortable and asked the others, “Gentlemen, will you gave us a moment?”

They didn’t need to be told twice and left the hall before the storm could crash down on them as well.

“Y/n… I-” He stammered.

“Shut it!” You didn’t want to hear it, you didn’t care that you were shouting at him either, “How could you?! You promised never to tell, and now I learn that you have broken your promise! It was not your secret to share!”

Matthew’s expression filled with remorse. “I am so sorry. It was just talk among men, nothing else.”

It was infuriating how he tried to make it sound like it was nothing. It wasn’t nothing, not to you. Trust was hard for the Dawn Folk, especially for yourself, and to be treated like this… “For you it was just ‘talk among men’, for me it is my personal affairs, that I trusted you with!”

He remained quiet for a moment, not knowing what to say.

“I’m sorry.” He said again. “I did not know it would hurt you.”

Was he so inconsiderate?

Bitterly you told him of what your father had said, “My father thought it would be a good idea to have you as a knight, not just for your competence, but because he wanted to make me happy by having you live in our home.”

Matthew was pleasantly surprised, “Really?”

You crossed your arms over your chest. “But ever since I’ve arrived here, you have been different to me. I am not one of your conquests, Matthew. We were never more than friends, even when I wanted to be more.”

He tried to touch your arm but you recoiled from him. “We can be more, y/n. I want us to be more.”

“I DON’T! I can barely look at you now!” It was unbelievable that he could act like he had not betrayed your trust severely. “You didn’t see me. I was so infatuated with you and you never looked in my direction with the same interest. I do not think you even really care for me, I cannot even trust you anymore. Where did my friend go? The one who respected me as I was, because I was me.”

The memories of childhood, when you played together by the creek, were painful now.

Matthew went down to his knees, sensing that this conversation was going the bad route. “I do respect you. I do care for you. Please, forgive me. I am a fool.”

“That, you are.”

A voice came from behind you. Matthew looked past you to see the Ash Man watch him be down on his knees for forgiveness. If that not dented his pride…

You gestured with your hand for Lancelot to leave. He reluctantly walked passed you and Matthew, and left the hall.

Matthew was not happy with the interference but kept it to himself. “I respect you, you must believe me.”

Slowly you shook your head. “No, you don’t. And I… I don’t think I want to be friends with someone who saw me as just another conquest. I thought I was more than that to you, I was wrong. I can feel how you are trying to see me as someone I am not.”

You stepped back and heard the door of the fort open again, this time your father walked in and saw the knight on his knees.

Neither of you looked happy now, you had known Matthew for years, but maybe you never truly knew him at all. Or maybe you were not the only one who had changed.

You walked away before your father could ask questions that would only make it worse. If he needed answers, Matthew was free to give them.

~~~♡~~~♡~~~♤~~~♡~~~♡~~~

Ciro had taken Squirrel to the place he said he often had ‘great adventures’.

The library.

Poor Squirrel was counting on a real adventure but had to settle for the written ones.

While Ciro sat on the floor to read, Squirrel searched the books for something that wouldn’t bore him too much. Your cousin was the first you saw when entering the library, Squirrel was trying to climb a shelf to reach one of the old books at the top.

Of course it had to be those…

“Here, let me help.” You hurried over, before he could break his neck, and plucked the book he was aiming for off of the shelf.

After looking at it for no more than three counts, he handed it back to you. “Mirena is teaching me how to read. But I don’t find it very interesting.”

You couldn’t believe that you were not aware that he could not read yet, “I never knew you couldn’t read.”

Squirrel shrugged his shoulders and walked along the shelves again. “It’s boring.”

Ah, yes. He was the sort of child that needed extra motivation for certain things.

You gave him some encouragement, “You’ll find something to read that you will enjoy. Or maybe you will even write something yourself.”

He didn’t have much faith on the matter, “There’s nothing here for me to read.”

There had to be something there that he might like. “What do you want to read about?”

The boy thought for a moment, then exclaimed, “Moon Wings!”

You recalled a book that had some stories about them. “We have something about them here. Let me look for it.”

“What does it look like?” He asked.

You began to search for it. “It’s a big, heavy book, leather bound. Brown, with golden details on the front.”

Squirrel began his search for this book as well. Minutes passed before you found it at the top of a shelf, what idiot had put it up so high?…

The boy helped you stack some books on top of each other and by standing on the stack you were able to collect the book. A thick layer of dust was covering it and you tried to get it off as best as you could, then knelt down on the floor to look through the pages with him. The small sketch of a Moon Wing decorated a page about a hundred pages in, there was some information on them that you helped him to read. It got Squirrel interested in the rest of the book, so you sat with him for quite some time, in the meantime Ciro was consumed by the book he was reading off in the corner. There were so many pages, it wasn’t until your eyes began to burn that you looked to a window and saw that the sun had gone down.

“I think I should be taking the two of you to get dinner.” You began to close the book.

Squirrel prevented it, now having grown interested in the literature, “Can I take the book with me?”

You saw no issue. “Of course you can, just be careful with it. We do not have as many books anymore since the war.”

He closed the book, picked it up, and when he tried to stand the book slipped out of his hands. It landed on the floor, one or two pages fell out.

Squirrel looked so genuinely concerned for your reaction and gave a sheepish small smile. “Sorry…”

You bend down to put the pages back into the book, then saw the pages the book had fallen open on. A page that held a drawing of something familiar, even the boy saw.

A sketch of an unknown face, with tear-like markings beneath the eyes…

“Those marks, they look like Lancelot’s.” Squirrel pointed it out.

This sketch was of a woman, who’s markings were eerily similar to those of the Ash Man. You picked it up and read some of the text that accompanied the drawing, it spoke of the Ash Folk, of their lineage and the little information that was known of them. There were some names, it mentioned the king of the Ash Folk and his descendant. The book almost fell out of your hands too when Lancelot’s name was written under King Ban’s.

The door of the library was opened, Mirena stepped inside. “There you are, I’ve been looking forever, dinner is getting cold!”

Ciro was on his feet and beside Squirrel not a second later. “Sorry, Aunt Mirena.”

You quickly closed the book and used one of the loose pages as a bookmark for it, you told Squirrel, “I’ll go and put the book in your room. Go on, don’t let dinner get cold.”

With an apologetic look in the direction of your mother, you ushered the children to go with her. Once they were out of the library, you reluctantly ripped the page from the book before Squirrel or anyone else could learn of this and spread the news around. You stuffed the page into the pocket of your vest, then did as promised and brought the book to the room Ciro and Squirrel shared.

Was Lancelot aware of his lineage? Did he even know who his family were?

It dawned on you that he never spoke of them, maybe he did not remember who they were. You decide to get some fresh air after being in the dusty library for hours, the evening wind offered it to you freely outside the fort’s curtain walls. One of the knights stood with his back leaning against the wall, drinking a tankard of last night’s ale, he greeted you.

You returned to the fallen trunk of the tree you had sat on last night. The page in your pocket felt heavy, you would need to give it to Lancelot, he deserved to know. The rapid sound of hooves hitting the ground neared you, and you turned to see a woman ride up the hill on horseback. Her horse galloped into your direction and you knew there was trouble. Your eyes fell on the village next, in the darkness you could see flames light up the night.

The woman halted close to you, panicking as she called out, “Dawn Woman, we need your aid! One of our homes is caught by fire, we fear there will be injured!

“Warn the others!” You shouted to the knight who was coming closer, “Make them bring all the buckets we have and anything that can be used as such!”

You approached her, and she gave you a hand to help you sit behind her on the horse.

She spurred the horse into a gallop immediately, and darted down the hill towards the village down below.

The smell of smoke reached your nostrils long before you arrived at it’s origin. It was one of the larger buildings that was on fire, you knew that it housed quite a few people. Chaos had overtaken the night and villagers tried to help those who had fled the flames. You were helping the first wounded the second your feet touched the ground again. A young woman was crying in agony, the burns on her face were severe. It was a relief to see them disappear when you touched her hand to sooth and heal. She had no time to thank you for it, you were already tending to the next wounded.

The situation was overwhelming, you did not want to run out of energy too quickly, but you couldn’t just let the worst injuries wait. If their situation got worse, it would only take more energy to heal them. You prayed quietly to the Hidden, pleading with them to give you the strength to help your people.

Some stood by and watched the fire consume the building and spread to the one beside it, others cared for the wounded. It was a constant running back and forth of people trying to put the fire out with buckets, with water from the well or of the wagons that hurriedly filled and brought them back from the lake nearby. They needed help, you needed help…

There was too much going on all at once and the panic was overtaking the people around you. An approaching horse darted through the village in your direction like a shadow passing through the chaos.

You knew that horse…

It came to a sharp sudden halt and the boots of it’s rider hit the ground only a few steps away from you. Even with the veil around his face you had recognized him right away, and saw that a part of his cloak was missing, he had used it to make the veil he wore now.

“Lancelot, no! You cannot be here!” You ran up to him, knowing the rules your father had given him. He was not supposed to leave the hill, and broke the rules with his presence in the village.

He had been in the stables tending to Goliath when he heard the woman arrive on horseback to ask for your aid. The call of the Hidden to follow had made him break the rule your father had given him.

Lancelot stubbornly moved past you towards the burning house. “There are still people inside.” He spoke only loud enough for you to hear, “I can smell them.”

Oh gods, no.

Your first instinct was to go towards the flames to save them.

He did not even let you take another step near the burning building. “Don’t! I will go.”

“No, you-” You weren’t willing to let him risk his life.

He saw the fear in your eyes, his hand quickly cupped your cheek, thumb tracing your cheekbone. “Fire cannot burn me.” He let go. “Stay here!”

You feared that the last time you would see the Ash Man, was him entering a burning building. Some had even tried to stop him from doing so to save him from the flames, he fought them off without truly hurting them, then stepped into the fire.

The Hidden made their strong presence known to the village through the burning ashes, they began to collect together and circle the burning building. If it was not so destructive, it would have been considered beautiful, magic hanged in the air. It silenced most of the chaos as people stared at it.

“Please, protect him…” You softly begged the Hidden.

The people around you needed your aid, their shouts for help forced you to spring into action. Finally, the knights of the fort arrived to help, even your parents were present. With tunnel vision you healed one person after another together with them, your eyes never fully left the flames or the presence of the Hidden.

The exhaustion was beginning to take hold on you, but you could not fail them now. Healers from the fort arrived and helped those who could survive waiting for the help of the Dawn Folk.

Mirena healed one next to you and spoke to you loudly, so you would hear her over the noise, “The Hidden is here!”

You saw the people try and fail to get close enough to the fire to put out the flames, the magic of the Hidden was circling it like a barrier.

“Mother, Lancelot is inside!” You cried out in despair.

She couldn’t believe what she had just heard and looked towards the building again. That look in her eyes… you would never forget it. Especially because she looked at you next and you could see the sorrow in her eyes, the pity.

No…

NO.

It was taking too long.

Now that you were a summoner, would the old gods not protect you from harm too? Did it even matter, when you feared that he was burning? It did not.

Mirena must have seen something in your eyes, because she tried to grab your arm when you jumped up to your feet, she failed to do so and called out to your father. “HELIO! STOP HER!”

You ran to the building, to the scorching flames, the heat of it struck your skin once you got close. And then you were on the ground, Helio held you down as you tried to fight your way back to your feet again.

“LET GO!” You did not even hear what he was saying, you screamed it so many times that your throat went sore.

Helio’s attention left you all of a sudden, a woman emerged from the flames with a crying babe that had not seen a blue moon yet. Matthew came to her aid immediately, as those around witnessed how the flames around her never touched her or the child, instead they turned to ashes once they got too close. He led her away from the danger.

The woman refused to go much further than a few feet from the fire and cried out to the flames, “My child!”

You pushed yourself free and got to your feet, Helio caught you by the sleeve. The flames folded open and away from the entrance of the building.

The Ash Man emerged, took some steps away from the fire, then dropped down to his knees. In his arms he held a babe, the other half from the set of twins belonging to the distressed mother.

Exhaustion struck him now that the power of the Hidden was released by him. He did not let it go fully just yet, the flames that perished turned to ashes much faster than it could naturally happen. The ashes were born from within the flames themselves.

The lack of crying made him fear for the infant’s life. When he looked down, he saw that the infant was staring up at the red glowing marks beneath his eyes, and reaching their tiny hands up to touch.

The moment of innocent joy slipped away when he realized. The veil…

There were whispers shared, and looks of shock. They knew who he was, his markings had betrayed him. And yet… no one attacked him. They had seen a man run into fire to save another. The man who had sought to kill them, was now risking his life to save them. He looked to Matthew, to come and take the babe from his hand, which the knight did and the child was returned to it’s mother.

They saw that he was one of them.

He removed the swords from at his side, and while kneeling in submission, laid them out in front of him.

A surrender. His life in the hands of his people, as it always should have been.

You ripped yourself free from Helio’s hold and hurried over to Lancelot. He lifted his head and shook it, signaling for you to stay back, fearing the reaction the people would have to your action.

Fearing you would be seen as a traitor.

A fear struck woman shouted, “It’s the Weeping Monk!”

“He is Fey!” A man called out loud.

Oh no…

You were standing between him and the crowd that grew louder by the revelation. There were weapons being drawn, you could hear and see it.

You reasoned with the shocked villagers, “Killing him will not bring your loved ones back!”

A woman wished for vengeance, “It will bring them justice!”

The war had made many of them colder, it was understandable yet saddening to see. There had to be a way to make them less apprehensive to give him a chance.

If they wanted this to be a trial, then you would give them the true facts, “Justice? He is Ash Folk! If you kill him, you take the last of them away from the Fey! This is exactly what the Church wants, for the Fey to turn against one another! This is why they stole him, as a Fey child, to torment his mind into believing he and any Fey is evil!”

Mirena kept an eye on all of those around, fearing for an escalation to come.

You continued with your pleads, “His death would mean a gift to the Church and a great loss to our people. If the Green Knight saw the good in him, if the Hidden chose him as a summoner, how can we not give him a chance?”

Some of them were willing to listen to you, some were not.

“He did not give us a chance!” A woman shouted and the roaring of the crowd began again.

“He spared the children.” You countered, “And our future by doing so.”

Lancelot did not move from where he knelt on the ground, letting his fate be decide by his people. Often you looked back at him and saw the shame and guilt he always tried to hide from you. There was murmuring among the villagers, they must have heard the stories from children who survived the cleansings the Weeping Monk had attended. Your father surprised all when he came to stand at your side in this, and risked his reputation as protector of the Fey to help Lancelot.

Helio spoke to the people he had protected for decades, “Is this the message we wish to bring our children?! For when they are taken, they are not to return to us?” He gestured to Lancelot. “This could have been any of us!”

He walked over to a Faun Man nearby. “It could have been your boy, Thomas. The Faun Folk’s gift for archery would have served the Church well.”

The man looked to the people beside him and then to the ground.

Your father walked to a Snake Folk woman and spoke to her, “Or your little ones, Hildegard. The Snake Folk’s talent for making poisons would be very desired by our enemies.”

She put her arms around her children and brought them closer.

Helio looked at the submitting Ash Man. “He was just a boy. Someone’s child, stolen from their arms and thrown into war. Break the child, build the monster.” He turned to the crowd once more and gestured to you, “It could have been any of us, it could have been my child.”

Mirena stepped to Helio’s side while speaking to the crowd, “The Hidden has returned the Ash Folk to us. Who are we to question their decision? We are not paladins, we are not Trinity Guards, we are FEY.” She looked at Lancelot. “If you believe he deserves to die, that he cannot be forgiven, I fear for what we have become.”

The mother of the children he had saved came forward from the crowd and slowly approached the kneeling Ash Man. You let her walk past you, seeing how the villagers watched her with silent awe. The Sky Folk woman stopped a step away from him, and for a moment she only looked at him in silence. The Ash Man lifted his eyes to her face when she put a hand on his shoulder.

“I forgive you.” Her words placed the next brick on his road to forgiveness.

This woman could not have thanked him in a more meaningful way than to give him what he so searched for. It was as if he could not believe she had truly spoken the words out loud. She returned to her children, the forgiveness within her was an inspiration to others.

Helio saw the change in the crowd’s attitude towards the Ash Man and approached him quickly. He grabbed the leather of Lancelot’s jerkin at the shoulder and pulled him to his feet. “Get up!” The poor Ash Man was startled by it. “Walk with me before they change their minds on sparing your life.”

“Father.” You didn’t expect him to help Lancelot at all.

Your father gave you the order as he led Lancelot back to Goliath, “Stay with your mother!”

Helio called out to two of the knights, “See to it that he is back at the fort.”

“Yes, Ser.” They responded and mounted their horses.

There was a strange silence creeping into the villagers as they watched the unburnt Ash Man mount the steed that no longer bore the symbols of the Church.

Helio gave him a low warning, “Leave the hill again without my permission and I will let you rot in the dungeon!”

All he could do was respectfully nod.

When Helio had turned his back and returned to see who else needed healing, Lancelot looked at you.

‘Go’ You mouthed to him.

The knights who were to accompany him urged him to follow, and after seeing your reaction he followed them back to the fort.

You were left somewhat shaken, and you were grateful for the help around you now. Mirena wasn’t too happy after having seen you run towards the fire, and managed to successfully give you a scolding whilst she healed people with you.

The fire had perished with the collective efforts of the village and the knights. And maybe the Ash Man had a hand in getting the fire under control as well, even if he was not aware of it. It was only a few hours before dawn when you returned to the fort, with the help of villagers who so kindly afford to bring you and your family back by wagon. Fortunately so, because this night had taken a toll on the Dawn Folk.

By the time you arrived back at the fort, you headed to your room without detours. You opened the door and by the time it fell shut behind you, you were already lying down on the bed, not even bothering to put the sheets over you even if it was a bit cold.

Faint knocking prevented you from slipping into the world of dreams. You called out quietly for them to enter, it even sounded incoherent to your own ears. The door creaked open, and clicked shut again.

There was no need to look, by now you could identify him based on the sounds and pace of his walk. Lancelot knelt beside the bed and touched your shoulder, “Is there anything you need?”

“Sleep.” You mumbled into your pillow.

A warm quiet chuckle passed his lips, then he was silent for a moment. Almost did you doze off to sleep when he remained quiet.

“Thank you.” He almost whispered, “For what you did for me tonight. I could not have faced them alone.”

You forced an eye open to look at him. “I’m with you, even if it is against an angry crowd.”

A yawn escaped and you closed your eye again. From your pocket, you retrieved the folded page of the book and waved it at him a bit.

Tentatively, he plucked it from your fingers, “What is this?”

“Ash Folk.” It was more mumbling.

He was silent again, probably reading what the page contained.

“Does anyone else know of this?” He sounded rather concerned.

Your eyes opened again. “I do not know for certain. I don’t think anyone has bothered to read the book it came from in years, it was covered in a layer of dust.”

The admission came from him, “What is written here. Is true.”

“About your family?” You risked asking.

He gave a slow nod, “Can we keep this between us? I am not who I once was, here and now is what matters most to me.”

“I promise I won’t tell a soul.” You vowed.

Your eyes grew heavy, all the healing had exhausted your body and it demanded rest. You let your eyes fall shut, feeling how hard it was to keep them open. “I’m so proud… of you… for saving that family. You were incredible.”

Another silence fell, this one lasted for a while. The warmth of his hand landed on your upper arm, it passed on to your skin when he rubbed in soft circles. It was terribly relaxing to experience. The last thing you registered before sleep took you, was the sheets being placed over your form.

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[mandos-mind-trick]

Here's To The Future: Part 10 - What Comes Next

Summary: The war’s over. That should be cause for celebration, except the wrong side won. Things begin to change quickly, and it doesn’t take long for Midnight to realize something’s not right among the clone army. She should be glad the war is over, but the threat of her losing her boys is all too real. She did swear she would do everything she could to keep them from being separated when the war ended.

She’s not going to give up on that promise. Even if it kills her.

Pairing: The Bad Batch x reader (no clonecest)

Warnings: Not a lot, some feels, fluff, lots of dialogue.

A/N: This one is significantly shorter than the others since it's basically 100% a filler while we shift into the second half of the story. Lots of talking, not a lot of action, especially compared to the last part.

< Previous | Next > | SERIES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

“She is right, you know.” Tech says, breaking the tense silence. Midnight’s words have struck all of them hard, and watching her walk away was even harder. “By my calculations, our accelerating aging will give us another 30 years, give or take. Midnight will have only lived around half the normal human lifespan by that time, and Omega even less.” 

Tech’s words don’t help any. Hunter had already been considering settling down somewhere, letting Omega be a kid, but the opportunity had yet to present itself. Being a soldier is easy, it is for all of them. It’s what they were made to do, but he often forgets Midnight is not like them. She’s not even a soldier. Deep down, he knows she’s right. Laying low right now is the ideal. Sure, going on missions is helpful, but if their paths cross with the Empire or more bounty hunters, they’re all at risk. 

He’s already risked too much. Just a matter of days ago, he could have lost both Midnight and Omega because of his decisions. Now Midnight is dealing with something that could affect the rest of her life because of him. 

“I miss them already.” Wrecker says, looking around sadly. 

“I know.” Hunter says, clearing his throat. “She’s right. About all of it. She deserves a normal life, they both do. The war is over. Perhaps we need to consider all of our options. And with Midnight injured...” Hunter doesn’t want to say it. He’s been thinking nonstop about the doctor’s warning. She may never fully heal. She may never get back to where she was before. “She worked so hard to keep us together,” He looks at Crosshair. “All of us, even when the rest of us gave up, and here we are fighting and trying to tear each other apart.” 

He steps closer to Crosshair, the sniper stiffening a bit. He’s preparing for another fight, for things to get physical. There was a time that wouldn’t have happened. They knew each other, trusted each other. There never would have been a thought of one of them betraying the others. Crosshair hadn’t willingly done it. Had his chip not activated, he would have been right beside them the entire way. 

It’s not his fault. 

“She’s right.” He stares up at Crosshair, meeting that brutal glare unwaveringly. “And you were right too. If you had wanted to hurt us still, if you were still under the Empire’s control, you could have easily taken us out. You could have given away our location many times. But you didn’t.” Hunter’s shoulders sag. “I don’t know what it was like. I was lucky that my chip never activated. Things can’t go back to the way they were, for any of us. I know you won’t accept any apology I try to give, but maybe we can come to trust each other again. We have to at least try.” Hunter holds his hand out. “For Midnight.” 

Crosshair stares down at his hand for a long moment before taking it. “For Midnight.” 

“What do we do now?” Echo asks. 

“We need to make things right. First, though, we pay off Cid.” Hunter says. 

“And how are we going to do that?” Echo asks. “We can’t risk another mission.” 

“I’ve got an idea.” Hunter says, looking at Tech, the others following his gaze. 

Tech glances between them, before nervously pushing his glasses higher. “What do you have in mind?” 

“How much do you know about gambling?” Hunter asks. 

“Waging something of value in hopes of winning something more valuable, usually money. Done through various games or against odds like winners of a sports match or pod race.” Tech answers. 

“Do you think you could beat a bunch of professionals at one of those games?” Hunter asks. 

“More than likely, yes.” Tech nods. “The basis of most of them are very simple, though some are based entirely on chance while others depend on a degree of strategy.” 

“Good.” Hunter pats Tech’s shoulder. “You’ll have plenty of time to work on your strategy on the way.”

“Where are we going?” Wrecker asks. 

“We’re taking Tech to Canto Bight so we can pay the debt we owe Cid.” Hunter says. 

“We’re just leaving Midnight and Omega here?” Echo asks as they board the ship. 

“They’re safe.” Hunter says. “Midnight won’t let anything happen to Omega. Besides, she needs to rest. They know where to go if they get into trouble.” 

***

“I've never been in a hotel before.” Omega says, looking around. 

“I have once.” Midnight says. “This place looks like a luxury suite compared to that place.” 

It’s barely more than a bed and a table, but at least it has a working fresher. It was cheap, though, and the Devaronian at the front desk hadn’t asked any questions. Exactly what they were looking for. Midnight drops her bag on the bed before laying down with a sigh. Walking had been a task, and she’d really begun to feel it up the stairs to the room. 

“You’re hurting again.” Omega says, climbing onto the bed next to her. 

“Just sore.” Midnight says. “The doctor said it’ll be like this for a while.” 

“Did you bring any bacta shots?” 

Midnight grabs her bag, opening it up. “Bacta shots, clothes, rations, credits, and...” She pulls out Omega’s trooper doll. 

“My trooper!” Omega takes the doll, holding it close. “You really thought of everything.”

Midnight smiles. “I didn’t want to have to leave, but they need to figure this out themselves. Pretending for our sake wasn’t working anymore.” 

“They’ll come find us, right?” 

Midnight rolls onto her side, smoothing hand over Omega’s hair. “They will. They’ll probably come up with some elaborate plan and make things way more complicated than they have to be, but they’ll be back. I know Hunter wants to slow down, to find a safe place for all of us. It’s hard for them, though. How do you adjust to a slow, boring life when you were designed for war? They’ll figure it out, though. They love both of us too much to leave us behind.” 

“You really think they love me?” She asks. 

“Of course they do.” Midnight says, leaning up on her elbow. “You’re their little sister. It might be a different kind of love, but it’s still love.” 

Omega lays down on the bed, holding her trooper close. “I’ve never had that before. I spent most of my life shut in the lab on Kamino. Nala Se was nice, but I always felt alone.” 

“You never have to feel that way again. Even if those idiots can’t figure things out, I made a promise to you. I’m never going to break that promise.” 

Omega rolls closer, wrapping her arms around Midnight. Midnight holds her close, resting her cheek on top of her head. They stay that way for a while, only the sounds of the city below breaking the quiet. 

“Midnight?” Omega asks, her voice slightly muffled. 

Midnight hums, letting the younger girl move back slightly. 

“What was your mother like?” 

Midnight opens her eyes, taken aback by that question. “Oh, well, she was...caring. She always did her best to try and take care of us, to get us what we needed. She was brave too. She wasn’t afraid to do what needed to be done to keep us safe and healthy. She wasn’t perfect, though. She was...sad. She wanted to do better, wanted to give us a better life, but circumstances wouldn’t let her. So she didn’t always make the best decisions when it came to her own wellbeing. She drank a lot, I think to numb the sadness. She was a good mom, given the hand that life dealt us. I wish she would have made better choices, sometimes.” 

Omega smiles softly. “What about your dad?”

“I never knew him.” Midnight shrugs. “I’m not even sure he ever knew about me either. My mother never talked about him. It was probably for the best, if even she couldn’t find something redeeming about him.” 

“Do you ever wish you knew him?” 

“No.” Midnight says. “Our lives might have been different if he’d been there, but I wouldn’t change my past now. It’s what’s led me to this point. I wouldn’t change it even if I could.” 

“Sometimes I wish I had real parents.” Omega says, turning so she’s staring up at the ceiling. “I’d want them to be like you and Hunter. Strong, brave, kind. You keep your promises.” 

Midnight swallows the lump in her throat. She’d never considered viewing Omega as anything other than a sister. She’s not even sure Hunter’s thought any differently either. She doesn’t think she’s the mothering type, but then again, she’s never really explored that idea before. She’s never had time to. On Coruscant, it was all about survival and trying to escape. Then in the army, it was all about just making it to the next day. Even in her fantasies about what would happen after the war, kids hadn’t really been in the picture. None of the boys had ever mentioned the idea, and so she’d never considered it. 

Until Omega appeared and suddenly they had an actual child to take care of. 

“I think Hunter would make a good dad,” Midnight says. It’s true. He sort of already is, trying to manage the squad even before Omega joined. “You should ask him.” 

“You can do that?” 

Midnight shrugs. “I don’t see why not. I mean, we’re not related but you’re still my little sister. I suppose the same can go for parents. I’m sure Hunter would be thrilled if you asked him. I think he’d probably cry.” 

“They are coming back, right?” Omega asks once more, looking for reassurance. 

Midnight reaches out, stroking her cheek gently. “Yes. Once they get what they need to do figured out, they’ll be knocking on that door.” 

****

The next day is spent laying low in the hotel room. Midnight had risked a trip out to the market to get lunch, and there had been no sign of the boys at all. She had debated going to the starport, checking if the ship was still there, but her back had other plans. 

She’s still sore despite the daily bacta shots. Her limp is slowly improving, but the pain is still there, still getting worse the more she walks around. She’s glad she made the decision to leave. Even if the guys decided to continue going on missions, she can’t. Her days of fighting are over. 

Midnight flips through plantes on the datapad she’d swiped from the ship, slowly narrowing down good options. She’ll go through with the plan regardless of what the boys decide to do. Even if it’s just her and Omega moving to their little farm, then so be it. She tries to keep reassuring Omega that they are, in fact, coming back. 

But as the day passes into evening, even she begins to doubt it just a little. 

She’s woken early the next morning by a knock on the door. Immediately warning bells begin to sound in her head and she grabs her blaster, motioning for Omega to stay back. She creeps to the door, taking a breath before cracking it open and peeking out. 

She opens it all the way, staring at Hunter.

He glances down at the blaster in her hand. “I didn’t think you’d still be that upset.” 

“I’m still considering it.” Midnight says, stepping out of the way to let him in. 

“Hunter!” Omega says, crawling over the bed to hug him. “You came back!” 

“We did.” Hunter says. “The others wanted to come, but I figured it might draw a little too much attention. And I’m the one that needs to apologize.” He holds out a bag, a delicious smell coming from inside. 

“Breakfast is your apology?” Midnight asks, crossing her arms. 

“Part of it.” He shrugs.

Midnight stares at the bag for a moment, her stomach rumbling quietly. He can probably hear it loud and clear so she sighs, taking the bag before sitting on the bed. Omega peeks over her shoulder, grabbing one of the pastries. Hunter leans against the wall across from them. He’s dressed down in his civvies, looking far too casual for someone she’s supposed to be mad at. 

He’s doing it on purpose. 

“You were right.” He says, clearing his throat. “About everything.” 

“Yeah.” Midnight blinks at him. “Usually am.” 

He gives her a look. “You were right about Crosshair. We’ve proved his chip is gone and he’s had lots of chances to turn on us again, but he hasn’t. Both of us have mutually agreed to at least try to trust each other again. And we all agree that it’s not fair of us to expect you to continue fighting. I know you’re tired and I know we all are too. It is hard for us to stop, but most of us agree that maybe we need to consider something else now. I know you had your plan, and things didn’t quite work out how they were supposed to, but now is as good a time as any to make it a reality.” 

“So...” Midnight waves her hand, expectantly waiting for what he’s going to say. 

“So, we started with paying our debt to Cid.” 

Midnight blinks at him. “How exactly?” She knows it’s not with her money. It’s all sitting in the bag on the floor. 

“We took Tech to Canto Bight.” Hunter shrugs. 

Midnight pouts. “You took Tech to a casino without me?” 

“We didn’t really have a choice. I didn’t want to risk another mission, and it was a lot of walking.” 

Midnight’s pout deepens. “That’s not fair. Using my injury against me.” 

“It wasn’t that exciting. Though it was satisfying to see the faces of his opponents when he absolutely swept them.” 

“Please tell me he recorded them?” 

“Probably. You know how he is.” Hunter smiles. “We got more than enough to pay Cid back, and Tech’s looking into places we might be able to settle down.” 

“Well, he won’t have to look far.” Midnight says. 

“Midnight already found us a place.” Omega says excitedly. 

“You’re not going to like the location of it, but I don’t think we could find anywhere safer.” Midnight says sheepishly. “I think we should discuss it together. All of us.” 

“So, does that mean you’re coming back?” Hunter asks. “The Marauder wasn’t the same without you two.” 

Midnight looks at Omega, pretending to think about it for a moment. Omega nods and Midnight turns back to Hunter, shrugging. “I guess, if you really missed us that much.” 

A grin breaks out on Hunter’s face, and he moves forward, Midnight grabbing onto his shirt and tugging him down. He barely catches himself over her, chucking at her excitement. He leans down, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. 

The moment is broken by the disgusted noise Omega makes. 

Hunter pulls away with a laugh, ruffling Omega’s hair. “I’m glad you’re both coming back.” 

Midnight tucks a strand of his hair behind his ear. “It’s an easy choice. I’d miss you too much.” 

Hunter pushes himself back up. “Probably not as much as we’ve missed you. We should go see the others, though, before they decide to come up here themselves.” 

“They’re here?” Midnight asks in disbelief. “I thought you said-” 

“I couldn’t convince them to wait at the ship. They’re waiting outside.” 

***

“So?” Wrecker asks as Hunter leaves the hotel. “Did it work?” 

“Why don’t you ask me yourself, big guy?” Midnight says, stepping around Hunter. 

“Midnight!” Wrecker shouts, scooping her up in a hug. 

Midnight winces at the pressure on her wounded back. “Okay, okay.” She taps his shoulder. “Still fragile.” 

“Sorry.” He sets her back on her feet, turning excitedly as Omega practically jumps into his arms. 

“That didn’t take very long.” Echo says. 

Midnight shrugs. “He was...very convincing.” 

“I hope the child was not in the room.” Crosshair says. 

Midnight makes a disgusted noise, smacking Crosshair’s chest. “Don’t be gross. He’s good with his words sometimes. Besides, I didn’t really want to leave in the first place. I’m glad you’ve settled your differences.” 

“Let’s get back to the ship.” Hunter says, eyeing the way Midnight shifts on her feet. “Night says she may have found us a place.” 

***

“Wild Space?” Hunter asks in disbelief, staring at the computer screen. 

They’ve all gathered around while Midnight pulled up the place she had found for them. Possibly their new home. Somewhere they could be safe. She knew he’d have his reservations about its location, though. 

“Yeah,” Midnight shrugs. “Wild Space has been Wild Space since the formation of the Republic and I doubt even the Empire will be successful in trying to gain control over it. If we want to hide, Wild Space is the place to do it.” 

“Except Wild Space is known for being the playground of criminals and pirates and all other kinds of horrible people.” Echo says. 

“But this place is so far out of the way of everything that there’s very little even written about it. It’s all just farming communities. No spaceports, no major imports or exports.” Midnight says. “If we want to stay hidden, a place so boring two people went and never returned is exactly what we need.” 

“She has a point.” Tech says. “While Wild Space is known for being, well, wild, its dedication to keeping any overarching governing body out is ideal. Strategically, if the Empire is looking for total Galactic control, it will need to first gain control of all the formerly Republic and Separatist planets first, then turn its attention to the ungoverned Outer Rim and Neutral territories. If it can gain control over those, it may set its sights on Wild Space, but the odds of it being successful in taking over a largely unmapped area of the galaxy is very small. A planet like this would be very low on their priorities, and if we want to set up somewhere permanently, somewhere inhabited will be easier than trying to build on an uninhabited planet.” 

They all turn to look at Hunter. He stares at the screen, reading over the very little there is written about this planet Midnight had found. It is inhabited, though by a small population, but it’s largely ignored due to its strange weather patterns. But there’s still beings that live there, beings that have survived and stayed hidden from the Republic for thousands of years. 

“It’s worth a shot.” He finally says. If nothing else, they can go and look. He turns to Tech. “Do you think you can navigate Wild Space?” 

Tech looks at him, obviously insulted by his question. “Of course I can. Though, it’s going to take time to reach it, given the lack of hyperspace lanes, and possible unmapped phenomena. We’ll need to research possible fuel stops along the way, and make sure our stock of rations is replenished. But yes, I can get us there.” 

“It’s settled then.” Hunter says. “Let’s go explore our new home.”

Taglist:

@amyroswell, @dangraccoon, @hunnythebee, @lokigirlszendaya, @kriffingmeshla, @storm-breaker7, @burningfieldof-clover, @6oceansofmoons, @motte-the-goblin, @bobaprint, @star-trekker-0013, @endofthexline

[thornedclover]

SPEAK NOW | Wednesday Addams × Tyler Galpin · wednesday (TV 2022)

CHAPTER 2. will you have me? will you love me?

.☘︎ ݁˖

summary. 2 years later, 4 semesters have come and gone, and the annual Rave’N dance is tomorrow night. after refusing to attend the previous times since her first with Tyler, Wednesday is reluctantly convinced by Enid to attend the dance for a second time. little does she know that someone is awaiting her once she arrives.

word count. 1,445.

warnings. slow build; no dialogue.

tags. inspired by music.

authors note.

I wanted this “mystery character” to be a surprise but with the tags & details in this chapter, there was no way I could keep it a secret. . I know it was probably obvious, but a writer can dream.

His heart was pounding in time with the sweat rolling down the back of his neck. Every passing second had his thoughts stumbling over one another. With the crisp breeze that whipped through on occasion, he was able to keep himself from actually being sick.

For weeks now, he had promised himself he would meet his first love again, on this very night. The one whose viper gaze hypnotized him like no other – like strange yet irresistible, constructive therapy. The only one whose scent weakened his ability to front without falter – like a geode rock being broken to reveal its crystal heart within. The one whose personality aligned with his as did her way of articulation led the way for his own to match – like a compass needle’s true north. This was his time, his moment, his chance to repair the damage done by his hands and his heart. After rehearsing over and over again, he knew he could not turn back. Either he would take action now or not at all. And since he was already at anxiety’s doorstep, he was pretty much at the point of no return now.

It had been two years since he saw her, talked to her, looked her in the eyes, and kissed her. It had also been two years since he had betrayed her, forsaken her, and attempted to be responsible for her murder. Altogether, he spent two years dwelling on every little thing – the high, the hurt, the shine, the sting of every little thing. And now, two years later, he was standing among the shadows in a black suit and polished shoes, going unnoticed by the passing Nevermore students. Alone, nervous, and in need of a miracle.

But even after every day, every night, and every minute in between, it all felt like it just happened yesterday.

The night he was strapped down in the back of that speeding van, he went from a resting state to a raging fit. The moment he tore free and disappeared into the daring woods, he became a lone wolf. The morning he came home to his father, he was weakened by the lack of manipulation from his deceased master. And all the long days leading up to this moment, he was lost. Transitioning between the lives of a normie and outcast, he had resigned from his barista title, been admitted into a psychiatric institution to endure various testing and observations in exchange for a prison sentence, and enrolled in online schooling to finish his educational studies.

But with every event, he felt more and more astray.

His appetite was up and down as his emotions ranged from fire to ice – his mood swings struck him at any unexpected time which would either end up in him being unusually consoled or having his head bitten off by his sheriff father. Nothing seemed right. Everything felt wrong. He would try this and fail at that. He could distract himself from his own mind but not for long. Pacing, thinking, running, breathing – everything that he did to keep himself from losing in his own warzone just did not satisfy his mind and body. He needed something… but what? A therapist? A genie? A prayer? No. He needed something – someone – more…

A raven. An angel of darkness. A gothic goddess… Wednesday Addams.

She was his backbone, his cornerstone, his head start, his rugged heart. The lone thought of her lashed out at him harder than any threat, insult, or whip could ever dare. The forever-etched-vision of her lured him into a pool of submission. The countless memories of her monotone, satirical voice posed as his muse to keep him focused… aware… and sane.

As if she was his master. And he, her slave.

The thirst for blood, desire to attack, and temptation to maim and maul had been vanquished and, instead, traded for distinct needs of heed, acceptance, and trust. The monster that had been raised from the start was reborn into a new breed of beast – one of twisted sanity and settled power. He had grown ill at the thought of ripped flesh and horrific, blood-curdling screams. For as long as he had been back home, he had not transformed into his outcast specialty nor did he want to. There was no point or reasoning to do so. There was no one to beckon, command, or tame him. No one to brainwash him into committing homicide and putting them on death’s row, if not 6 feet under. No one to force him to become what he was not fully accustomed to controlling: what he did not want to be notorious for – a vile, heartless, corrupting monster. Without his initial ringmistress, Marilyn Thornhill, his chains had fallen off. He was free as a stallion running through the night – silver and responsible for himself, alone.

Now, he had his sights set on one thing. Every night came with a dream, and every day began with a chase. The visions of the young raven appeared to him in countless dreams. The voices of his inner-self bonded him within an indestructible cage, begging for a light to guide him out… begging for her. Those dark, icy eyes and striking, black nails. Her soft, pale skin and long, ebony hair braided in two. That sharp, sarcastic tongue and stone-cold heart. He was so involved with her in ways that he could not describe – brave and relentless. Sweet and defenseless, he knew… Over and over, again and again, it did not take him long before he realized that she was the one. She was his answer – his one and only true north. Like a lock and key, she had become the new master of his inner demon lying dormant within.

She did not know it, but she would. After this very night, she would know.

But with that came everything in his head – the questions that crowded his mind, leaving him blind. After everything is said and done, will she believe him? Will she still have him? Will she still want him? Will she ever forgive him? Will she even love him?

Only time would tell…

Taking yet another breath to steady his nerves, he tugged on his dress shirt at the collar. Every passing outcast had his green gaze focused and attentive. Knowing his former date, he figured he would be looking for the same monochromatic aesthetic and magenta lips that blessed his vision two years prior. He was anxious yet eager to see his first love. He was ready yet afraid to witness her reaction. He was collected yet a complete mess at thinking of what this outcome could turn out to be. But now was the only time to take his chances, he had drilled that into his mind already.

Couple after couple and group after group entered through the dance’s illuminated entrance arches and he began to second guess his orchestrated plan. But a familiar beanie followed by blonde hair got his hopes up. He recognized the psychic’s friends under the twilight color scheme of this year’s Rave’N – both dressed in varying shades of violets and blue, the gorgon sported a solid-colored, conservative attire while his werewolf date sashayed close to his hip in an ombre gown, dazzled with twinkling sequins and a bow-tied waistline.

And there she was. Tailing them with her straight posture and unique gait. The beauty he had come to seek out was right in front of him. Spellbinding, mysterious, and utterly enchanting as ever.

If he was honest, her looks almost had him convinced that she was a completely different person and not the one he had come for — her hair, dress style, and evening gloves stunned him in the most captivating way. She looked like herself yet so different. He knew she was 18 years of age but damn… was she taken out of her comfort zone. Knowing her, he could only imagine the fight she put up with her roommate to get herself in such a stunning arrangement. Obviously, the other had won and here she was, looking absolutely perfect tonight.

Then her viper gaze happened to look his way, and he found himself locked in. Frozen and hypnotized, there was no breaking the contact. He was completely bewitched.

The chattering of the school was drowned out by the beating of his own heart. His blood rushed beneath his skin, churning and coursing and racing with his spiraling nerves. After all of the pain, anger, fear, despair, longing, isolation, planning, and remorse. One look was all it took. Not a word nor touch. Just one glance his way.

And Tyler Galpin was lovestruck all over again.

[itsthestutterforme]

The Right Side (2/2)

Prompt credit @promptful: “I promise you that if you hurt her, I will return the favor tenfold.”

Notes: GIF is not mine, all mistakes are my own, dark themes (attempted murder)

**

“You.. I suppose you knew the passage to Driftmark, Ser?” “I do,” “Lovely. I would like to accompany you.” “Does your husband know you’re here?” Princess Rhaenys asks.

“No, he left in the middle of the night.” “If we’re going, we must hurry. Chances are they’ll notice your absence before ours,” Ser Eryk instructed and the two of you nodded. He took you through the Street of Silk as far as it goes before hoisting you and Princess Rhaenys over the wall.

By the time the servant came into your room to wake you, you were at the doors of Driftmark. Two guards led you to the war room where Prince Daemon and Queen Rheanyra resided. Daemon recognizes you from the dinner and the Queen follows his gaze to you.

“You were the last person I thought to see,” he states, tilting his head in amusement. “Do they know you’re gone?” He added. “It’s about this time when they wake me so it won’t be long before they make the conclusion.” You explain.

“How much does she know?” The queen asks Aemond. “Enough,” “Why would she commit treason like this? Has she spoken to you about anything regarding her position?” Otto sharply questions.

Aemond’s arms remained tucked behind his back, lifting his chin forward. “No, she purposely avoided the topic.” “Send a kingsman to bring her here by any means necessary,” Otto says. “I promise you that if you hurt her, I will return the favor tenfold. I care not if you are my grandfather,”

“She is a traitor,” “She is my wife. I worked very hard to have her and I’m not going to lose her over some materialistic feud,” “This feud is that of your future. And your family’s future. I can’t allow for your sentiments to disrupt this inheritance.”

“You’ve been warned, Otto. Anyone who decides to harm her, will die.” Aemond glares at Otto and spares his mother a glance before leaving the room. “You’re surely not going to have her killed, right?” Alicent asks, once her son was out of earshot. “If she poses a threat to the crown, then yes,”

“She’s the love of his life, father.” “A small price to pay for the greater good.” Alicent looks at her father in disappointment. “I never wanted it to get this far,”

**

“We need to rally as much support as possible.” Ser Eryk says. “How can we do that if they locked down Kings Landing?” Jace asks. “Is there anyone on the inside?” Eryk asks. “Not yet,” Queen Rhaenyra states. “Why not plant a seed of a rescue among the Silk and wait for an opening when there are less guards to invade.” You propose.

Those in the room gave a nod. “We don’t have enough soldiers to do a raid.” Ser Eryk clarifies. “We can designate a dragon for transport. We don’t necessarily need soldiers.” “I’m beginning to see why Aemond chose you as his wife,” Daemon compliments.

“Thank you, my Prince.” But now Aemond has creeped his way back into your head. It’s been a week since you snuck out of the castle only to get stuck in a new one. But at least you were working towards a cause and they kept you informed on things.

They made you feel like your opinions mattered. “Alright, you and Ser Eryk will plant said seeds tonight and we’ll arrange for the rescue before sunrise on the weeks end.” Queen Rhaenyra states. “And what of Aemond, my Queen?” “What of him?”

“Would should I do if he were to approach me?” “I think the better question is, if the time calls for it, would you be able to kill him?” Daemon asks, and you pause for a moment. “I would fight him and defend your honor, Your Grace. But I wouldn’t kill him. I can’t,” “I can understand that. You just focus on the rescue mission. We’ll send some guards to deal with him so you won’t have to.” He explains.

You don’t deal with Aemond. Chances are they’ll be dead before they hit the ground. You were the best chance of interacting with them and returning alive. “Your Grace,” you said with a bow before leaving with Ser Eryk by your side.

You and Eryk used the rest of the daylight to construct your plan. Now that it was nightfall, you had to be as quiet and stealthy as possible. You all did. The larger knight hoisted the lot of us over the concrete fence. You and Eryk each had two guards follow you around the Street of Silk.

You must admit that you were a bit nervous. You would have been happy to see Aemond under better circumstances. But now, there is no telling how this mission will go.

You gasped when you felt something whistle passed your ear. You found cover behind a table and pulled it on its side when you heard a knife sheathing and a man groaning. You slowly peeked your head from behind the table, your heart racing when you saw a familiar lean, silver haired man emerge from the darkness.

“You’re a deceiver. A damn good one at that.” “Aemond,” you stood from your position behind the table. “You had me believing like I was a bad husband. You had me fuck the soul out of you and me cunt struck in return. All as a mere distraction for you to join my opposition. Tell me, was that your plan all along?”

“No, it wasn’t.” “Could have fooled me,” “Stay away from her,” Ser Eryk says, drawing his sword. Aemond chuckles and shakes his head. “This just gets better and better.” “You will turn away from here and let us be,” “You know I can’t let that happen,” Aemond says, his eye never leaving yours.

“Then we’ll force you,” the other knights drew their swords and you sprint over to Aemond, turning your back to him as you face the guards. “You do that and you’ll be dead before you hit the ground,” you sheath your dagger and crouched into a defensive position. Will you look at that?

“What side are you on?” Eryk asks. “I am loyal to the Queen, but I will not let you hurt my husband. I need to speak to him alone. Eryk can stay but the rest of you must go back. A mass crowd like this will draw unnecessary attention.” You command.

“Go,” you added when they don’t move. “She’ll be alright. I’ll stay here.” Ser Eryk states and the rest of them vanish back into the shadows. You walked into a closed pub and Aemond followed you. “Who was the man you killed?” You asked, crossing your arms.

“An assassin sent to kill you by my grandfather,” “How many are there?” “I’m not sure. He hasn’t told me much since I threatened him,” “You threatened him?” “No one hurts my beloved and lives to tell the story.. although if I have any logic left, I would turn you in and let them make an example of you.”

“Then do it.” You took out your dagger and placed it on your throat. “Here let me make it easy for you,” you added. He crossed the room and nudged you against the wall, taking a hold of the knife to press against your throat. You raised your head up at him, your skin igniting as one of his hands held your waist.

“Why didn’t you let him kill me?” “You know why,” he leans in, brushing his nose against yours. You desperately wanted to hold his face and kiss him, but that would further complicate things. “Maybe you should have. It would have made things easier.” He tuts at you, removing the dagger and setting it on the table.

“I contemplated killing my grandfather. He’s never going to stop going after you. You know too much.” “I never meant to make matters.. complicated. Had it been you as heir, we wouldn’t even be in this position. You are perfectly suited, your brother isn’t.” “You and I agree on that matter,” “And the only reason why we’re not on the same side now is because of your unwavering loyalty to your mother.”

“Careful,” “It’s true,” “At least I have loyalty,” “And at least I have an unbiased conscience. The King had named the Queen, your sister, as heir to the throne on multiple occasions. And now you expect me to believe that on his deathbed, when no one else was around besides your mother, he named Aegon as heir? I was born in a day, but it wasn’t yesterday.”

“I’m aware of that,” he says softly, his gaze fell to the ground as he contemplated another response. “We knew about your rescue mission hours before you came here. You have a mole. They plan to attack Driftmark as retaliation. You need to prepare.” He explains.

“Why are you telling me this?” “I will protect you with my dying breath. I’ll command Vhagar to protect you until this is over.” He advances to the door and you catch his hand.

“Come with me,” “I can’t,” you stood in front of the door and crossed your arms. “You killed one of your own. You threatened your grandfather's life. You told me there was a mole in my ranks and you told me the Hightowers’ plans. That’s four counts of treason, you would be hanged.”

“I have to kill him or he will kill you,” “I can defend myself, but I will not have you sacrifice yourself for me.” “It’s my job as your husband, beloved.” “I will not have it, Aemond.” He steps forward and you pressed your hands to his chest. “Please, come with me.”

You bowed your head to hide your sobs. “I can’t lose you. You’re all I have. Please.” His hands drifted from your hips up your arms. He lifted your chin to meet his gaze and he held your face in his hands. “My love,” he starts, tracing your bottom lip with his thumb before pressing a soft kiss on them.

He presses a lingering kiss to your temple before pulling away from you entirely. “Expect me outside the castle at sunrise. I have some things to tend to.” You let out a shuddered breath and a few more tears escaped your eyes. “You better, or I swear to the Gods. I will come here and drag you out myself,” “I’ll count on it,”

[itstimetotheorize]

A break in Lila’s lies. Marinette’s future allies?

Something has been bugging me for a while now and it has something to do with Lila. Ever since Lila was introduced into the miraculous world, we have seen her go through great lengths to ensure that everyone around her would think of her as this amazing person who lives her life doing amazing things, all of which were flat out lies. And although Marinette and Adrien discovered Lila’s true colors, the two of them soon realized that despite knowing of the terrible things Lila had done and was willing to do, neither of them could easily expose her lies and deceits, why? because, Lila had effectively convinced everyone she was simply to kind a person to ever be capable of carrying out terrible acts against others. Marinette and Adrien know everyone is wrapped around her finger and would immediately doubt their claims the moment they speak out about them. 

Now, near the end of “Ladybug”, Lila abided by Adrien's demands and agreed to not directly hurt Marinette again in order to stay close to him, and so far she has kept that promise. However! I and many others soon realized Lila could easily work around this limitation. Lila agreed to not directly hurt Marinette... but this did not necessarily mean she had to be the one doing the dirty work. Lila is a master manipulator, she could easily trick others close to Marinette into doing something against her, all it would take is one little lie to get the ball rolling. However, given everything we know about Lila and given everything she is capable of, this does ultimately beg the question....what’s Lila going to do the moment she finds out Adrien has fallen in love with Marinette?

In “Risk”, Lila was greatly angered the moment she saw Adrien express affection for Marinette by holding her hand, but if she were to discover Adrien now intends to be in a relationship with Marinette, she may once again attempt to turn others against her...but will she use the entire class like she did in “Ladybug”?....or will she turn her attention to people she has yet to meet? As of now, Luka, Kagami and Zoe are the only ones among the miraculous team who have yet to properly interact with or know about Lila. Lila already has Chloe to help her carry out her plans, but if she ever intends to hurt Marinette once again, then she might make attempts to manipulate either Luka, Kagami and/or Zoe just as she did with the others....but... will it work?

Marinette has always faced the dilemma where everyone, even her best friend Alya as well as her parents, are willing to doubt Marinette’s claims and believe that Lila is nothing but a good person, but despite knowing this... will someone...anyone (besides Adrien), ever come to realize Lila is not who she claims to be?...maybe...then again...what if we were already introduced to someone who could?. As previously stated, as of now, Luka, Kagami and Zoe have yet to interact with Lila.

 Luka is aware of Marinette's identity as Ladybug so its possible manipulating him will not be easy given he knows exactly who Marinette is, he does doubt her word  but only because he tends to know a person better than they know themselves. Luka is an empath, he is very in tune with sorting and sensing other peoples emotions and as an empath, Luka is even capable of sensing when someone is hiding something, what does this mean exactly?... it means Lila may consider Luka a threat and attempt to avoid him the moment she realizes he can read people, then again, Luka may simply choose to not listen to a word she says….however…if Lila figures out Marinette is a weakness to him, then she may just be willing to reveal her true colors in order to insult Marinette and infuriate Luka...Luka was only akumatuzed twice because of his feelings for Marinette in both “Silencer” and “Truth”.

Kagami on the other hand...is in danger of Lila’s manipulation...Kagami is a strong girl who fights for what’s right and is always willing to help others, she is brutally honest and is not afraid of telling others truths they need to hear, but despite being such a strong girl, the one disadvantage she has is that she has not had much social interaction with others, as a result....Kagami tends to be gullible. How gullible is Kagami? Well…in “Glaciator 2”, Kagami never questioned if the scenarios in a manga were simply fiction and nothing more, she thought it was all real,  so if Lila were to ever interact with Kagami, well...who knows what truths she could twist to make Kagami doubt Marinette, after all, if there’s one thing we know about Kagami... it’s that she hates it when people lie to her. Kagami met Lila as Onii-Chan but has yet to properly interact with her in her civilian form. Even after being de-akumatized in Onii-Chan, Kagami never had a chance to talk to Lila without being under the effects of an akuma, meaning we do not yet know what she will think of Lila when she finally does properly meet her.

But out of everyone Lila has yet to interact with, there is one character who may pose a great threat to everything she has built, who is this someone?...why...its Zoe of course.

Zoe spent her life in a boarding school, unfortunately, because of her fear of not being socially accepted by others, she began to pretend to be someone she was not. And although Lila and Zoe are complete opposites to one another, the two of them still shared the same approach to interacting with others. Lila pretends to be someone she is not in order to better draw peoples attention to her and make them that much easier to manipulate. Zoe pretended to be someone she was not to better be accepted by her peers in New York, and although she is fully capable of using her acting skills to manipulate others, she restricts herself to using those skills for better reasons, like convincing Chloe to take the magical charm that could protect her near the end of “Queen Banana” or convincing Jean the butler to not attend the gathering at the Agreste mansion in “Gabriel Agreste” in order to give Marinette the chance she needs to sneak inside the mansion as a waiter, where am I going with this? well...what if maybe...just maybe...Zoe can tell when another person is pretending to be someone they are not?....could Zoe… be capable of seeing through Lila’s deceitful nature the moment they finally meet one another?....maybe...

Although this does beg the question, knowing fully well Lila has everyone under her manipulation, what would happen if people like Luka, Kagami and Zoe realize Lila is not at all who she says she is?, would they keep things to themselves? would they each secretly look into everything Lila has done in order to figure out what Lila has really been up to? or will they simply choose to listen to Marinette’s side of things and decide to stick by her side if and whenever Lila will once again make attempts to hurt her. If even just one of them ends up realizing the reality of Lila and Marinette’s situation, will the first domino be tipped to give way to Lila’s downfall? making Alya and the others finally realize they sided with the wrong person from the very beginning?...honestly who’s to say...but hey!...its just a theory, a Miraculous Ladybug theory!

[kiasnocturnality]

I've noticed the three of them are quite slow to trust or won't open up until they trust someone completely, so... How would they react if they found Reader unconscious and injured? Would they help out, or maybe take Reader somewhere and have other people tend the wounds, not revealing themselves? Or try to not get involved if they see they're not alone?

The three of them make me super curious 👀

characters: Alois, Nasana, Takeshi

notes: I'm so happy to see that people are interested in my OCs!!

. * ⋆ . · 　. ALOIS LEBLANC

Alois has an extensive amount of knowledge when it comes to healing as he's seen a lot and, living among vampires, people are bound to get hurt at some point

Whether or not he hands you over to other people to be treated really depends on the severity of the wounds - if it's something that he knows he can't successfully handle, he'll pass you on to someone who he knows can but, if it's something he knows he can manage, he'll treat you himself

He may be slow to trust but he's gentlemanly and very hospitable to those in need so, despite you being a stranger, he'll let you rest and recover at his home, providing you with all the meals you need, giving you certain access around his manor for entertainment (such as the library or the greenhouse) and providing you with clothes too

. * ⋆ . · 　. NASANA

Being as antisocial as he is, Nasana has had to learn how to tend to wounds himself through a lot of trial and error so, when he finds you injured, he has a good understanding of what he needs to do

It might come as a surprise that he will much rather treat you himself and the last thing he wants is to have to hand you off to other people (mostly for selfish purposes, he will admit, as the only thing worse than dealing with one human is dealing with a group of them)

He will actually seem a lot more tender then he usually is with other strangers while he's treating you. He may be a hunter for the sake of eating but his whole world is in the rainforest and so life is beautiful to him and it's a wonder to see a living thing thrive/revive under his care- he may not want you, a stranger, in his land but, as long as you're not throwing any threats about, he doesn't want to see you dead either and will be much happier to send you on your way once you're healed enough

. * ⋆ . · 　. TAKESHI

The trickster has to take a moment to ponder if your injury might be his doing when he finds you. He likes pulling pranks, sure, but killing is more reserved for vendettas so he'll get right to helping you out for the sake of morality (and guilt that he thinks there's a good chance he might have caused this)

Takeshi's old and has had time to understand traditional medicine and medical sciences so he knows how to treat you (it helps that he's magic too), bringing you back to the abandoned shrine that he inhabits. He'll treat you himself and will provide you with as much hospitality as he can (I'm afraid that the Takeshi hospitality bundle also comes with an ungodly amount of flirting)

He'll almost be hesitant to let you go when you're fully recovered but, should you leave, he will remind you that he expects his kindness to be repaid one day, whether that's tomorrow or years from now, his generosity is not free and he will hold you to his standard of promises

𓋼𓍊⋆ﾟ Buy me a coffee?

@writing-noah @edensrose

[auricbound]

run. run until you can’t anymore. run until the only thing left of you is your bones, because then the nerves will have been annihilated.

betzalel is screaming. it’s the kind of shrill, horrifying screech he’s only rarely heard from them in the past, and even then, that was only with ICA or when his own negativity had grown too great to the point that they had NO CHOICE but to swallow a being that BURNED THEM. even as he runs, he can only think himself as cruel - though it demands he burn, he knows that it HURTS. the flames of the SUN are a blaze that knows no mercy, even to its child.

though, even among the frenzy, there is a space of calm in his mind - one that is completely stable and aware of the fact he’s being HUNTED, stalked like a predator stalks PREY.

it’s frightening. he doesn’t like when things are frightening.

the storm kicks up. he can only bring his arms up to try and shield his eyes from the particles that threaten to sweep him away, but there’s little that can be done to actually hide him ; his glasses are for maintaining his sight ONLY, not to protect them from abrasions so microscopic that distract his dear child from the much larger threat lurking within.

the dust is alive.

for the briefest of seconds before the manifestation, his breath completely halts as he feels SOMETHING swirl around him - some kind of piece of life rather than the whole - before it CULMINATES, piecing together in the dragon’s helix, just like the world of information was poured into him all those years ago, just LIKE THE TRUTH -

click.

it takes him a little too long to process the fact there’s a gun at his head. it takes him a little too long to bring his arms up with the palms facing forward just to maximize any chance of him not getting shot. it takes him a LITTLE TOO LONG take in the full figure before him - enormously tall, almost as tall as al’s armor - and understand that there is a PERSON challenging his VERY LIFE.

he reeks of chaos.

chaos ? his child ? the very thing giving him a body right now ? how does he know about them ? if he reeks of it, it must be a SENSE - but therein lies the problem. how the hell was he sensed ? he doesn't know, and he doesn't know WHAT this guy means as he continues in his - admittedly very intimidating - stream of thought, questioning him and why he's here rather than WHAT HE IS.

it leaves him speechless, if just for a good moment or so. but he at least spits out his words FASTER than before in the presence of something that could significantly incapacitate him for a good while being pressed to his skull. and he elects to ignore the memories of helios that, for some reason, have made themselves especially prominent in the face of the new being.

" i - i don' know, " he admits, carelessly, childishly. it's the truth, though - however shaky and scary it may be. " one minute my world fuckin' ends and i get scattered int' th' fabric of reality itself an' th' next i-i jus' - i get stuck in this fuckin' purgatory. i don' know. "

" l-listen - i promise 'm not meanin' ta be a problem, if i am. can y' jus' - put the gun down ? please ? 'll answer anythin' ya wanna ask me, tha's jus' freakin' me the fuck out right now. th-though ... it might be a lil' better if we - got 'way from them. those guys were insistent. "

he says it, knowing full well they're gone - but anything to get out of the dust, out of the OPEN would be better. anything to keep him from being found and having to smell charred flesh again. hopefully, betzalel should calm down when the gun's down - he doesn't want to have to deal with the familiarity while both his child and malach are resting inside his very being while terrified.

and hopefully, the piercing blue will become less ... like that, with time. it's bad enough already that he sounds absolutely pathetic.

In this land, no second chances could be afforded. The moment black met gold, fates were sealed. Hralk squawked.

"Hey! No sudden mo -"

The explosion shook the ground itself, brilliant flame reflecting off shards of polished rock and blinding the unfortunate before the hungering tongues seared them alive. It almost begged the question - just what had they done in life to deserve such a gruesome end..? Those whose lungs could still draw breath screamed, others choked on dust and smoke, some attempted to swing and fire haphazardly into the stirred-up cloud of dirt. Alas, it was all for naught - a secondary explosion following up and sending the front guard flying.

Curses and bellows of pain and rage accompanied the foreigner's escape, his remaining captors far too wounded and shell-shocked to give chase. But it was alright, even those screams would soon die out. First, drowned out among the howling winds - and, soon enough, forever. Yet more ghastly echoes to haunt these lands.

All that remained was to run. From the carnage left behind and the figure in the distance. Yes, he bore witness to it all; Stepping with callous indifference over the charred corpses.

The Sun was the life-giver and the life-taker.

And the Sun moved ceaselessly.

Run, little rabbit. The fear was familiar, the turned heel, the hood falling down to reveal messy locks of hair. No more time to conceal oneself, fighting against the storm in a losing battle. The gold hue was almost as striking as the scent of the beast that summoned him in the first place - a whole other beast entirely.

And yet, somehow, so alike. They were both killers, after all.

The man clad in pure black did not run, no. Did not give chase in great leaps like an animal, but simply walked. Sure-footed, seemingly unbothered by the wind, gaze trained on his target with eerie calmness. The demon - a part of the other - was fighting for its life. It knew he was coming. It knew being found was inevitable the very moment it had come here. And its first and final mistake was turning its back.

Do not ever turn around. Do not break eye contact. Stand your ground if you hope to survive. If you run in the open, you are as good as -

Dead.

The duststorm took on a life of its own, twisted in helical coils like twin serpents - a flash of gold and the Hunter materialized in front of the other man, like a desert wraith borne of scalding sands.

Click.

"You.." A voice that could only be described as deep as the night itself, "...reek of Chaos."

There was a firearm pressed to the radiant one's forehead, and a finger on the trigger. Blue eyes primed for slaughter, cold and stark against sun-bronzed hues. A hint of madness, ever-present. But he did not pull the trigger. No, he was.. more curious than that.

"...But you're not it. You're not what I seek." Kaze rumbled, trigger finger uncurling and hovering just over the lever. Ocean orbs narrowed, the only shift upon a visage carved in stone.

"You are... something more. Why are you here?"

And why does your Soil feel so... familiar?

[storiesforallfandoms]

vulnerable ~ captain jack sparrow;pirates of the caribbean

word count: 1845

request?: yes!

“♥️Hi, I wanted to request something for Jack Sparrow if that's okay? So, I was watching potc dead man's chest, and noticed how at the end where Elizabeth kisses him, Jack is so soft and gentle with her, he barely moves, he looks so vulnerable and small, it touched my heart. So I wanted to ask something like that, where when the reader first kisses him he's surprised and vulnerable, maybe never thought she would like him back. something with angst, an emotional Jack, but a happy ending, thanks <3″

description: in which he becomes vulnerable when she kisses him and admits her feelings for him

pairing: jack sparrow x female!reader

warnings: swearing, an attack that leads to a sinking ship

masterlist (one, two)

If there’s one side of Captain Jack Sparrow that was never shown, it was his vulnerable side.

Being vulnerable only got you one thing when you were a pirate, and that was killed. You had to be tough as a pirate, especially as an infamous captain. Sure, Jack had his less than serious moments, but no one saw that softer side of him. He wouldn’t let anyone see it as long as he lived.

Until (Y/N) joined the crew.

She had stowed away on the Black Pearl the last time they were docked. Pintel and Ragetti had found her hidden among the barrels of rum below deck. They brought her to Jack, expecting their captain to throw the stowaway into the water and leave her for dead.

“I’m not trying to steal!” she insisted. “I was just trying to get away. Please, I can be of some use. If you don’t want me here, I’ll depart when you find land next. You’ll never see me again.”

Jack studied their stowaway. She was small and he could see in her eyes that she had definitely had a hard life wherever she had come from. She wasn’t a threat, and he felt like he wanted to protect her.

“She’s not a threat,” he decided. “She can stay.”

Captain Jack Sparrow had a way with the ladies, everyone knew this. He could get under the skirt of almost any woman he wanted just with a few sweet nothings whispered in their ear. But what he felt for (Y/N) was different. He found his chest would warm whenever she was around, and he’d easily get tongue tied.

He wanted to vocalize these feelings to her, but every time he tried he would chicken out. Instead he would find some way to open himself to (Y/N) more, to show her the side no one else ever saw. In return, (Y/N) told Jack all about herself, and they became the only two people on the Black Pearl to know so much about one another.

Then came the day of the attack.

They were sailing on a beautiful day. Not a single cloud in the sky, nor anything in their sights. (Y/N) was stood at the bow, watching as the Black Pearl peacefully move through the calm water.

“Peaceful days scare me,” she said, startling Jack who had been approaching her.

“How did you know I was here?” he asked.

She looked at him over her shoulder and smiled. “I just knew.”

He stepped up onto the bow next to her. “Why do peaceful days scare you?”

“They are so few and far between that I always expect the worst to happen,” she explained. “Either the weather is bad, or something bad is happening. We have yet to have such a calm and peaceful day.”

“Maybe we’re just lucky today.”

(Y/N) looked up at him with a skeptical look. “Maybe.”

They were silent then, but it was a comfortable silence. Jack looked over at (Y/N), who was now gazing out over the water. The breeze blew her hair slightly, giving Jack a better look at her face. Despite her feelings on peaceful days, her face looked relaxed and at peace in that moment.

Jack’s mouth moved before his brain could comprehend what he was doing. “(Y/N).”

She looked up at him. “Yes Jack?”

He opened his mouth to speak again, but was cut off by Gibbs shouting. “Captain! Enemies along the horizon!”

Jack and (Y/N) shared a look before racing for the wheel where Gibbs had been standing. Jack took the telescope from his first made and looked through it at the oncoming ship.

“Not necessarily an enemy ship, Gibbs,” Jack said, trying to zero on the flag the ship was flying but was unable to get a good look at it. “Might just be someone else sailing today.”

But then the sound of a cannon rang out and the water beside the Black Pearl shook violently.

“Shit,” Jack hissed. “Get to the cannons! Return fire!”

“Is that a good idea, Jack?” (Y/N) asked. “They’re so far away, we’ll be wasting ammo.”

“We have to show them we aren’t going down without a fight,” Jack declared.

His men loaded the cannons and fired back at the ship. The giant masses landed just inches from the enemy ship, causing the water around it to build up in massive waves and disrupt the ship’s course.

“Again!” Jack called. “Just one more this time!”

As they fired another shot at the ship, another cannonball landed in the water next to them as well. Anyone above deck was thrown to the ground as the ship tilted due to the waves.

“Jack, we have to retreat!” (Y/N) insisted as she tried to get to her feet.

“There’s no retreat,” Jack said. “They’re advancing on us fast. By the time we even turn to get away, they’d be on us.”

“Well what do we do then?”

The next cannonball hit the ship directly, putting a massive hole in the side of it. The Black Pearl began to sink into the water began to fill the deck.

“Abandon ship!” Jack called. “Go to everyone below deck and make sure anyone who can be saved is saved! Abandon ship and swim to the nearest land or boat you can find!”

He turned to (Y/N). There was so much fear in her eyes and she looked close to tears. Jack cupped her face in his hands, trying to remain calm himself.

“Find land, get help,” he told her. “For yourself, don’t look back for us.”

“No!” she exclaimed. “If I get anywhere, I’ll be sending the first boat back looking for you and the others.”

“We’re pirates, (Y/N). No one will care about us. No one will want to save us.”

“I will want to, and I will save you.”

Before Jack could argue further, she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his. Every ounce of fear or worry slowly dissolved then and Jack relaxed into the kiss. He put one hand on the back of her head while holding her body close to his with the other. They were so lost in one another that they didn’t realize the entire front of the ship was submerged in water until Gibbs called out for them again.

(Y/N) pulled away first. Jack gently caressed her face, his face mirroring the fear in her own. Except he wasn’t afraid of the enemy ship or the attack; he was afraid of never seeing her again.

“I will find you,” he promised.

(Y/N) nodded. “I will find you, too.”

The two of them jumped ship as another cannonball landed next to the sinking ship. (Y/N) reached for Jack, who had been next to her moments before, but found herself thrown around in the chaos of the sinking ship and the still attacking enemies. She tried to open her eyes to look for Jack, but the water stung so bad she was unable to see.

She broke through the water a few times, but continued to be shoved back down by the crewmates or by the force of the sinking ship. Finally, she began to swim away as fast as her body could take her. She wasn’t sure where she was going, but she knew she had to get away before the Black Pearl took her down with it.

(Y/N) swam and swam until her arms and legs grew too tired to swim anymore. When she was finally far enough away from the chaos, she broke through the water and inhaled the fresh air into her lungs. She could no longer see either ship, or her crewmates. She wasn’t sure if she had swam away that far that she couldn’t see them, or if they had all gone down with their beloved ship as well.

Her body ached, but she did everything she could to stay above water. There were no signs of land or another boat anywhere. Not even any debris for her to float on. Just water as far as the eye could see. (Y/N) felt a lump grow in her throat and all she wanted to do was cry. She had lost the people she cared most about, she had lost the place she considered home. She had lost Jack.

(Y/N) was floating for some time when another boat sailing through the water spotted her. They got close enough that one of their members could reach into the water and pull her out. She nearly sobbed with relief when her tired body was able to relax against the ship’s floor.

“Ma’am, are you alright?” one of the crew members asked, kneeling down to peer into (Y/N)’s face. “Have you been hurt?”

She shook her head sheepishly, still regaining her energy. “I...I was on a-on a ship. We were...we were attacked.”

“Another from the shipwreck!” the crewmate called. He turned back to (Y/N) to add, “We’ve rescued a number of your crewmates, they’re all below deck receiving any medical attention they may need.”

It took a moment for his words to get through her head. When they did, she jumped up as fast as she could and made her way below deck. Many familiar faces were sat together or laying in the beds provided, but not the familiar face she was looking for. (Y/N)’s heart squeezed with sadness as she desperately looked for Jack among her saved crewmates.

She tried not to let her disappointment show as a call was heard from above ship. “We’ve got another! Says he’s the captain!”

(Y/N) turned to watch as the crewmates brought Jack down below ship, his hair and clothes clinging to him from the water. She contained herself for just a moment, waiting to see if Jack needed any medical attention. When his eyes locked on her, however, he broke free from the grasp of the crewmates and ran to her, taking her in his arms and kissing her deeply, there in front of all of his men.

“I thought I lost you,” he breathed between kisses.

“I thought I had lost you as well,” she responded. “When I came down and didn’t see your face. I was so sure - ”

“Shh, love,” Jack said, placing a finger against her lips. “No need to worry now. We’re both alright.”

“Oh Jack, the Black Pearl,” (Y/N) said. “I’m so sorry about your ship.”

Jack chuckled. “My ship? Don’t apologize for that. My only worry was you, and you’re okay now.”

“Well,” came Gibbs’ voice, tearing the two away from their moment. “I never thought I would heard the great Captain Jack Sparrow say he cared more for a lady than his own ship.”

“What can I say, Gibbs?” Jack said, putting an arm around (Y/N)’s waist and pulling her close to him. “She brings out the softer side in me, and maybe I’m much better for it.”

[mandos-mind-trick]

Here’s To The Future - Part 3: Cornered

Summary: The war’s over. That should be cause for celebration, except the wrong side won. Things begin to change quickly, and it doesn’t take long for Midnight to realize something’s not right among the clone army. She should be glad the war is over, but the threat of her losing her boys is all too real. She did swear she would do everything she could to keep them from being separated when the war ended.

She’s not going to give up on that promise. Even if it kills her.

Pairing: The Bad Batch x reader (no clonecest)

Warnings: NSFW, Lots of emotions, arguing, Hunter is a little bit of a dick, some rehashing of CW pain, badly written smut

A/N: May the 4th be with you! Here's the much anticipated update. I combined Episodes 3 and 4 for this one, since I wanted to focus more on Midinght and less on following the plot of the show. Stuff still happens, but significantly less action than the previous two chapters. Lots of feelings, lots of angst.My Hunter girlies, I did promise.

Also I am still looking for a beta reader for this one, so if you’re interested…

< Previous | Next > | SERIES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

She can feel him. 

Arms snake around her, a firm chest presses against her back. His nose presses into her hair, inhaling deeply. She can feel the thump of his heart, long fingers lacing with hers. The musky smell of him, mixed with blaster residue and plastoid. He’s warm, he’s real. 

There’s a hand on her but it’s not his. 

She’s clutching his pillow, face half buried in it. Tears are streaming, wetting the pillow. 

“Hey.” A quiet voice whispers, the hand shaking her. 

She turns on her back, blinking through the tears. She can’t see clearly, but she doesn’t need to. 

“Come on.” He motions with his head, stepping back from the bunk. 

Midnight sniffles, wiping her face. The dream had felt so real. For a moment she thought he really was here. He really had crawled into the bunk and held her like he had so many times before. It had only been a dream, though. He was still gone. He was still missing. 

Midnight crawls out of the bunk, dropping down quietly. Tech’s bunk is still empty, but Wrecker and Hunter’s are occupied. She follows Echo to the hull, watching as he kneels down, pulling a panel off the wall. 

It’s quiet for a few moments, Midnight watching him fiddle with some wiring. She shifts on her feet, unsure if she should be helping, or if he’ll ask her to. It wasn’t unusual for Tech to drag her somewhere and expect her to jump in and help him without direction. Echo was usually more straightforward. 

“Back when I was a reg, I was really close to one of my batch mates.” He starts talking, his back still to her. “Fives, we called him, because his designation number was all fives. We were assigned to the Domino Squad during our training. We wound up being the only two of the Domino Squad to survive and we were placed in the 501st.” 

Midnight sinks down onto the floor, pulling her knees to her chest. She’d heard about his early days, how he’d come to join the 501st before, but he had never mentioned anyone specific besides Captain Rex. She knew what happened to him to an extent, but he avoided talking about his time before Skako Minor in detail, unless something specific came up. She knows he’d rather move on from it, he’d rather not remember. 

“I never asked Rex when he died, or how.” He shakes his head, sitting up on his knees. “I know he’s gone because if he were still alive, he wouldn’t have given up either. He would have been right beside Rex, doing everything he could to rescue me.” He places the panel back in place, keeping his back turned to her. “I know it’s not the same. I can’t even begin to understand what it feels like. We’re taught from a young age any of us could die at any moment. That doesn't mean we don’t feel it, but we bury it because we have to keep fighting.” 

Tears burn Midnight’s eyes once more, her grip tightening around her legs as she tries hard not to cry again. “It hurts.” She sniffles. “It hurts so much.” 

“I know.” He turns to face her, a sad look in his eyes. “Hunter told us what happened, what Suu told him.  I know you want to do this alone. I don’t blame you. None of us are really good at this.” 

“I’ve always had to do it alone.” Midnight laughs, more at herself than anything else. “We’re not that different, you know. I never got to mourn anyone. My mom disappeared when I was ten years old. I couldn’t do anything but miss her sometimes because I had to take care of myself. So many friends either left or just disappeared and you never blink twice at it because that’s just the way things are. That’s just...life.” She sobs quietly, fresh tears falling. “This hurts so much worse.” 

“Because Crosshair didn’t just disappear.” Echo says, taking her hand in his. “He betrayed you. He betrayed all of us.” 

“Does it ever go away?” She whispers, clutching onto his hand tightly. 

“No.” He says. “Not entirely. You just...begin to feel it less and less often.” 

She wipes her tears, a futile action since more just keep falling. “I wish I had done something sooner.” 

“You couldn’t have known.” Echo says, pulling her to her feet. “None of us could have known. Don’t beat yourself up too much. Don’t beat the others up either. They’re trying their best.” 

Echo does have a point. It’s not just her that’s lost Crosshair. On top of everything else that’s happened, she’s not helping any. 

“Come on.” Echo takes her hand, leading her towards the door. “If you want to sleep more, you can use my bunk. I’ll be working on repairs for a while.” 

“Can I...do anything to help?” She asks. 

He shakes his head. “No offense, but I don’t think you’d be much help.” 

Midnight shrugs. “I can fit into small places.” 

“You’re not the only one that can.” Echo gives her a grin. “I’d rather have you resting.”

Right. Omega. She hadn’t spent much time with the kid. Kids aren’t really her thing. She avoided them as much as possible on Coruscant, since she knew most of them would beat her up for spare change or something to eat. She feels a little guilty for basically ignoring the kid. Maybe she should spend some time with Omega. For female solidarity or something like that. 

Midnight takes Echo’s offer, slipping into his bunk. She doesn’t sleep, instead she lays awake, staring at the top of the bunk. Echo did have a point. It wasn’t like they weren’t trying to help her. She knows Hunter was only trying to help her, offering her an option if she wanted it. 

She probably shouldn’t have gotten so upset about it. The thought of leaving them, even if it was safer for her, hadn’t even crossed her mind. She’d rather face danger head on with them than leave them behind. Even if Crosshair is gone, she can’t fathom the thought of losing the rest of them. 

She’s not sure how long she’s laid there when the privacy curtain is pulled back, Hunter leaning down with a box of rations in his hands. “Food time.” He says, holding it out to her. 

Midnight doesn’t feel hungry, but she knows she should probably eat. They were running low and safe places to stop were going to get harder and harder to find. She takes a bar, swinging her legs over the side of the bunk. “Thanks.” 

“Are you...alright?” Hunter asks, eyeing her hunched over position. 

He’s not asking if she’s wholly okay. He wants to know if she’s physically hurt. Is she okay? No. Is she injured? No. 

“Yeah.” She nods, trying to smile but she’s sure it looks more like a grimace. “Not my first firefight, remember?” 

He nods, looking down. “Right.” 

He turns, looking like he wants to move away but she stands, calling out to him. “Hunter?”

He turns to face her and she gets lost in his eyes for a moment. She had gotten used to seeing the stern face of her Sergeant recently, and had missed the softness he used to look at her with when they weren’t in a fight or running for their lives. 

“I-” 

She’s cut off as the ship violently jerks, nearly throwing her from her feet. She manages to catch herself on the edge of the bunk, keeping her feet under her. Hunter runs for the cockpit, and she follows, barely able to keep her feet as the ship continues to violently shake. 

“Getting thrown out of hyperspace. I’d say that’s pretty critical, Tech.” Hunter says, bracing himself on the back of the pilot’s seat. 

They were no longer in hyperspace, instead plummeting straight towards a moon. 

“It’s not affecting life support. We’re fine.” Tech says, like they’re not about to crash land on some moon they’ve never even heard of. 

“Are you kidding me?” Hunter asks in disbelief. 

“The power capacitor’s blown. We need to land immediately.” Echo says from the copilot’s seat. 

“Strap in!” Hunter yells, moving to the seat behind the copilot. 

Midnight takes the seat behind Tech, holding on for dear life. They plummet through the thick clouds of the moon’s atmosphere, alarms blaring from the ship. Midnight trusts Tech’s flying abilities, but while crashing? The gonk droid slides up into the cockpit, many loose items clanging around in the back as they continue to nosedive towards the surface of the moon. 

Tech pulls up on the controls, managing to flatten out the Marauder before it slams into the moon’s surface, sliding to a stop. Midnight lets out the breath she was holding, hands still clutching the seat tightly. 

Hunter rises to his feet, helping the gonk droid up before looking in the back. “Everybody all right?” He puts a hand on her shoulder and she nods, still holding onto the seat. 

Is she really okay? 

No. 

Definitely not now. 

***

Midnight stacks empty crates back in their place, working with Wrecker and Omega to put everything back where it belongs. The mess wasn’t as bad as she had thought it might be, or at least what it had sounded like. 

Despite the mess, it’s probably the cleanest the ship has been in a long time. Probably since it came off the line. 

“I suspect one of our capacitors sustained damage during our firefight with the regs.” Tech says. “We won’t be able to take off without replacing it. Inventory analysis indicates we have one spare onboard.” 

“Is it in here?” Omega asks, moving a crate. 

They all turn to look at her, Midnight’s stomach twisting painfully. They’re all quiet, all of them thinking the same thing. 

“What?” Omega asks as they continue to stare at her. 

“That’s Crosshair’s weapon kit.” Hunter explains slowly.  

Wrecker groans. “Fine. I’ll say it. I kinda miss him.” 

“He shot you, remember?” Echo says. 

“Ha! I sure do. That hurt!” Wrecker says, moving his once injured shoulder. 

“It’s worth noting the possibility that Crosshair’s actions were influenced by his inhibitor chip.” Tech says. 

“It can do that?” Echo asks. 

“That’s what it was designed to do.” Omega says. 

“So, it wasn’t Crosshair’s fault?” Wrecker asks. 

“Well,” Tech goes to start but Hunter cuts him off. 

“Look, debating this won’t fix the ship. Right now we need to find that capacitor and get off this rock.” Hunter says, walking towards the cockpit. 

Midnight stays still, thinking over Tech’s words. She knows Crosshair. As much as he was an asshole, betraying his squad? Shooting two of them? He wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t betray them like that. 

Not willingly. 

***

Midnight swivels the chair back and forth, staring at the screen. She’s not really sure what she’s looking at, but it was better than looking at nothing. 

“Are you...alright?” Hunter asks, coming to stand next to her. 

“I won’t be if you keep asking me that.” She snaps, but immediately deflates. “Sorry.” She shakes her head. “Nothing ever goes our way, does it?” She scoffs. “My mom would say ‘the universe is just giving us all the bad now so it can save up all the good for later.’” 

“She sounds like she was a prolific woman.” 

Midnight snorts. “She was drunk. Drunk and desperate. I used to think maybe she found a way out, she made herself a better life somewhere. I know that’s not true. Not with the kind of people she spent time with.” 

Hunter puts a hand on her shoulder squeezing gently. It’s a comforting touch, something she hadn’t realized she was missing. 

Their moment is disturbed as Wrecker walks by, groaning in pain. 

“What’s wrong with you?” Hunter asks, turning to face him.

“I must’ve hit my head in the crash.” He groans, holding the side of his head. 

Tech and Echo reenter the ship, joining them in the hull. 

“The capacitor’s in place, but other systems are now failing.” Tech says. 

“Something’s causing damage to the exterior hull.” Echo says. 

“You wanna narrow that down?” Hunter asks, turning to them. 

The ship goes dark, whirring as the entire thing shuts down. The sound of thudding from the top of the ship is loud in the silence, all of them looking up as something makes its way across the top of the ship. 

They all rush to the cockpit as something moves across the viewport out of sight. Omega calls out, being the only one who saw it. 

“What? What is it?” Wrecker asks, Omega standing on the copilot’s seat. 

“Some kind of creature, about this big,” She holds her arms out to show how big it was. “With a long tail. It ran off with the part.”

Echo hits a couple buttons, pulling up the ship's schematic. “She’s right. The capacitor’s gone. And that was our last one.”

 “The creature is most likely an Ordo Moon Dragon. A species that feeds on raw energy.” Tech says. “It was probably drawn to the capacitor’s electric charge.” 

“Well, that would have been good to know beforehand, Tech.” Echo says. 

“You two get those other systems online.” Hunter says. “Wrecker, stay here. I’ll go after the dragon and get our part back.” 

“I’m fine. I-” Wrecker tries to argue, still groaning in pain. 

“You’re staying.” Hunter commands. 

“I’ll go with you.” Omega says excitedly. 

“No, that thing could be dangerous.” Hunter says. 

“I’m part of this squad now too, right?” 

Hunter turns to look at her, casting a glance at Tech and Echo who have also turned to look at her. Echo shrugs, knowing the final decision was up to Hunter. 

“All right, kid.” Hunter says. “Just stay close.” 

Omega puts on her oxygen mask, running happily towards the ramp. 

“What about me?” Midnight asks, noticing Hunter had skipped over her entirely. 

Hunter turns to look at her, furrowing his brow like he had forgotten her existence entirely. It hurts a little. “You stay here.” 

“But-” 

“Keep an eye on Wrecker, and help Tech if he needs it.” 

Midnight bites her tongue as Hunter exits the ship, nearly drawing blood. Of course he’d sideline her. She’s not exactly in the most stable mindset, and it could possibly be dangerous. Yet, he’s willing to take a kid with him. 

Midnight fights the urge to punch the wall. Wrecker was already hurting. They didn’t need her to be hurt too. 

***

Midnight peeks out of the bunk as Tech and Echo pass by. All of them had headed towards the back of the ship, Omega included. She climbs down from the bunk, following curiously. 

Omega is sitting up in the gunport which has been decked out and lit up. So that’s what Wrecker had been doing back there this whole time. 

“I’ve never had my own room before.” Omega says, plopping down with Lula in her arms. 

“Well, you’re a part of this squad now too.” Hunter says. 

Midnight smiles softly, leaning up against the wall. 

“That’s really sweet of you, Wrecker.” She says as the giant clone passes her. 

“Aww, it was nothing.” He says bashfully, rubbing the back of his neck. “This way she has her own room and you can have yours back.”

Midnight nods, her smile faltering just a little. “Right.” She knows she’s not ready to leave Crosshair’s bunk yet. Not while it still smells like him. 

She shrieks as Wrecker lifts her off her feet suddenly, carrying her towards the bunks. “Wrecker! What are you doing?” 

“Well, I just thought since Omega has Lula now, I need something to cuddle at night.” He pauses right beside his bunk. 

“Oh, Wrecker.” Midnight shakes her head, wrapping her arms around his neck. “You sweet, sweet man.” 

Wrecker climbs into his bunk, still holding onto her. She lays across his chest, not exactly the most comfortable with his armor, but the feeling of his arms around her, the warmth of him makes up for it. She hadn’t realized how much she missed it. 

It wasn’t exactly like they’d had time for it. Between escaping Kamino and barely escaping Saleucami, and then crash landing on a deserted moon, they hadn’t really had time to do much else. And now with Omega on board, the entire dynamic had to change. 

She hadn’t exactly been in the mood for a cuddle lately either. 

Now, though, being held secure against Wrecker’s chest, being moved with every breath he takes makes her realize how much she’s missed it. How much she still yearned for their touch, even if it’s something simple. 

She drifts off to sleep easily, sleeping soundly for the first time in a while. 

***

Midnight rifles through her belongings, cataloging what she still has. It’s mostly clothes, GAR issued uniforms and the few civvies she had brought with her, the small crate of bathroom necessities, and her armor. 

She rifles to the bottom of her underwear drawer, pulling out the hinged box. The top doesn’t close all the way anymore, some of the contents threatening to spill out. 

It’s her most prized possession. 

She’s been saving credits in it since before she joined the GAR. It’s a lot, more than she’s ever seen in her entire life. Most of it came from her GAR paycheck. She had made meager credits in her job on Coruscant, the box mostly going near empty, or entirely empty a few times. Now it’s almost overflowing. 

She had started saving for her new life after the war. If she survived, she was going to buy a plot of land on some remote planet and live her life happily in a wide open space. Of course, her relationship with the boys had changed those plans a bit, but the desire to move to a remote planet hadn’t lessened. The only difference was she wouldn’t be living there alone. 

She has more than enough. She knows that. She could easily buy them enough supplies to get to some remote, deserted planet. 

She gets up, packing a few credits in a pouch before leaving her room. Hunter has changed into the clothes Cut had given him. Midnight forgets how good he looks in civvies. She glances at Echo who is dressed in...something. 

“What are you supposed to be?” She asks, looking over Echo. 

“He’s a droid!” Omega says excitedly. “It’s his disguise.” 

“Right.” She nods slowly. 

“We can’t draw too much attention to ourselves.” Hunter explains. “The less we stick out, the better.”

Midnight glances at the red bandana and skull tattoo. “Uh huh. Here,” She hands him the pouch of credits. “I want you to have this.” 

He stares down at her hand for a few moments before pushing it back. “No. You should keep that.” 

Midnight frowns. “I have a lot more than this. I want to contribute something, since you’re buying supplies for all of us.” 

“We have to figure out a way to get credits anyway.” Hunter says. “Keep yours for emergencies.” 

“Does this not qualify as an emergency?” She asks, following him as he moves towards the back of the ship. “We literally have no food.” 

“We can figure it out.” He says, opening a crate. 

“But you don’t have to!” She says, getting frustrated. “You want to do this quickly, you can skip an entire step this way! This isn’t the time for some chivalry bullshit! Have you stopped to think maybe I’m your expert in living like this? Constantly watching your back, laying low, staying hidden, that’s how I lived my entire life! You only know how to be a soldier! Guess what, you aren’t anymore! Let me help!” 

“We don’t need your help!” He snaps, slamming his hands on top of the crate. Midnight flinches, not having seen him this angry before. “Your head is not in the right place right now. You’ll be a danger to all of us. I’m not putting our lives at risk. Stay here. Fix your attitude. We’ll be back.” He turns, making his way towards the ramp. 

Midnight seethes, watching him go before she steps into her room, wishing she could slam the door. 

***

Midnight sits in the cockpit, staring out the viewport. She can hear Tech and Wrecker thumping around outside. She could go and offer to help, but she’s not sure she could do much. She’d likely just be in the way. She’s not an engineer or even a mechanic. Hell, she’s not even capable of taking care of children. Maybe Hunter is right. Maybe she is a burden. 

The comm blinks, Hunter’s voice coming through. “Wrecker, Tech, Echo. I lost Omega. Somebody attacked us.” 

“Somebody who?” Wrecker asks. 

“A woman. Highly trained. She’s after the kid.” 

“Yeah, we’ll see about that.” Wrecker says. 

Midnight jumps up, heading back to her room. Maybe this is her chance to prove to Hunter she’s not a liability. That her head really is in the right place despite everything. She quickly changes into her armor, tugging it on. 

She goes to leave the ship but Tech grabs her arm, stopping her. “Where are you going?” 

“To help find Omega.” She says, trying to pull out of his grip, but he’s too strong. 

“No. You need to stay here.” He says, using his grip on her to pull her closer. 

“I’m going to help.” She says defiantly, digging in her heels. 

“Hunter’s right, you know.” He says, not loosening his grip any. “Your head is not in the right place. You’re only a risk right now, and the last thing we need is you lost in the city too.” 

Midnight knows he’s right. She has no clue where they are, much less how to help. She refuses to stand down though, hating that two of them now have told her she’s too unstable to do anything. 

Tech’s face hardens a bit. “Don’t make me tie you up.” 

***

“This is dehumanizing.” Midnight says, kicking the back of the pilot’s seat. 

“What happened to you?” Wrecker asks, sinking into the seat beside her. 

“She was intent on leaving the ship.” Tech says. “Restraints were necessary to prevent that from happening.” 

She’s not even sure where he got the rope from, or why he had it, but he had successfully tied her to a chair in the cockpit. It hadn’t been much of a fight since he was much stronger than her, and apparently was well versed in tying people up. 

“Yeah, well, it’s over now, so can you untie me?” She kicks the back of Tech’s seat once again, Omega giggling. 

Wrecker turns her seat, undoing the rope in a couple easy tugs. It hadn’t been tight, but Midnight stretches her arms anyway. 

“That woman. She has to be a bounty hunter.” Hunter says, joining them. 

“A what?” Omega asks. 

“Someone hired to retrieve targets.” Echo says. 

“And you appear to be the target.” Tech says, spinning around so they’re all facing each other. 

“Me?” Omega asks, sounding frightened at Tech’s words. 

“Hey, don’t scare the kid.” Wrecker says. 

“We have to find out who she is and who hired her.” Hunter says. 

Midnight sighs. There goes their shot at laying low on some planet. Bounty hunters always find ways of locating targets. Even the best hidden ones. “It can never be easy, can it?” 

“No.” Wrecker grumbles. “I’m starting to get hungry.” 

“You’re always hungry.” Tech says. 

“But this is worse. We don’t even have any food!” 

****

Midnight isn’t exactly thrilled to be sitting in a closet. She’s seated on a crate, leaning back against the far wall. She’s been here for probably two minutes, but it feels like a lifetime. She had so much more she could be doing, like sleeping or flipping through the computer, or crying. 

She looks up as the door opens, Hunter standing in the doorway. From where she’s sitting he looks like an imposing figure, his broad shoulders taking up the entire doorway. His brow furrows as he looks down at her, turning to look back over his shoulder. 

“I thought you said-” 

He’s cut off as something hits him from behind, forcing him into the closet. Midnight barely has time to move as he hits the wall behind her, catching himself. Before he can recover, the door slides shut, closing them both inside. 

Hunter hits the button to open it, but the door stays shut. “Tech!” He yells, banging on the door. “Open this door.” 

“Sorry, Hunter.” Tech’s voice sounds from the other side. “It seems to be jammed.” 

“Tech,” Hunter says, a warning in his voice. 

“It’s for your own good.” Echo’s voice sounds. “You both need to talk.” 

“Tech you liar!” Midnight yells, slipping under Hunter’s arm so she’s closer to the door. 

“My apologies,” Tech says, not sounding sorry at all. “It’s the best way to ensure the two of you talk through your problems.” 

“I’m gonna kill you.” Midnight threatens. 

“Worry about that later.” Tech says, before leaving them alone. 

Midnight moves back to the crate she was sitting on, plopping back down. 

“I take it you didn’t know about this?” Hunter says, leaning against the wall next to the door. The closet is small enough she could touch his feet with hers if she stretched them out. 

Midnight shakes her head. “Tech said he needed my help in here. I thought maybe this would have a more satisfying ending.” She leans back against the wall, crossing her arms. 

“He told me he needed me to take a look at something. I should have known something was up.” Hunter shakes his head, crossing his arms. 

Midnight chews her lip, tucking her legs closer. “They are right. We can’t keep fighting each other.” 

“It’s too dangerous for all of us.” Hunter moves to sit on the crate next to her. “I know this hasn’t been easy on you, and I haven’t been easy on you either. Cut was right. Omega’s not a soldier, and neither are you.” 

Midnight looks up at him, turning slightly to face him. “I never really was.” 

He smiles just a little. “You’re good at playing one. Sometimes I forget.” 

“I can’t blame you.” She leans her head against the wall. “I am the first nat-born you’ve had extended contact with. I’ve been your first for a lot of things.” 

“It’s...an adjustment.” Hunter says. “This wasn’t how I thought things would go.” 

“You’re not alone in that.” Midnight says. She looks away from him, curling up in the corner. “I feel like I failed.” 

Hunter shifts so he’s more comfortable on the crate. “I know following orders isn’t really our thing, but I think this is one time we should.” He leans up against the wall. “Talk to me.” 

So she does. 

She tells him everything. How she knew something was wrong with Crosshair, but she hadn’t done enough to try and fix it. She tells him about her conversation with Tarkin, how he’d blackmailed her using them. She tells him about Crosshair’s betrayal. She tells him how she’d signed the contract, not knowing what else to do. She tells him her plan to break them out, about how she feels like a failure. 

She tells him about her panic, about how she can’t stop the overwhelming feelings every time she has to fight. She tells him how she feels like she’s falling apart. 

She’s crying by the end of it. She’s so tired of crying, but she can’t stop. Hunter’s arms wrapping around her only make it worse, the floods of tears quickly soaking a wet spot on his shirt. Hunter rests his chin on top of her head, letting her cry. 

“I don’t want you to treat me differently.” She says, voice slightly muffled by his chest. “I’m still me. I’m still Midnight.” 

“I’m sorry if I made you feel that way. It’s been hard, with everything going on. With Omega too...things can’t be exactly like they used to be.” 

“I know.” She sniffles. “But they don’t have to change that much. We can adjust. It’s what we do, right?” 

He kisses the top of her head softly. “I guess so. We’ve...got a lot to learn. You are right, though. We don’t know how to be civilians, or how to operate in that world in the way we need to.” 

“That’s why you have me.” She says. “Luckily, I’m pretty good at that.” 

“I think Omega could benefit from some lessons too.” 

Midnight snorts. “Girl needs some life lessons.” 

Hunter pulls away slightly to look down at her. “You are the expert.” 

Midnight shakes her head. “No, no. I am not good with children.” 

“I think you’re doing just fine.” He smiles at her. 

“I’ve spent like five minutes with her. That’s not nearly enough time to figure that out.” 

“Maybe you should make an effort.” He says, shifting her slightly in his arms. “She is part of this squad now.” 

Midnight crinkles her nose. “I don’t even know how to approach her.” 

Hunter laughs. “She’s not a Loth-wolf, she’s a kid. You just walk up and start talking.” 

Midnight stares at him. “Since when are you an expert on children?” 

Hunter shrugs. “Just speaking from experience.” 

Midnight shifts so she’s sitting between his legs, her back to his chest. He wraps his arms around her, her fingers trailing down his arms to his hands. “How long do you think, until they unlock the door?” 

Hunter shrugs. “Not sure. I don’t think they’ll believe us if we tell them we’re done.” 

Midnight hums, tracing his knuckles. “Probably not.” 

They fall quiet for a few moments, Midnight enjoying the feel of him wrapped around her. She really had missed them, all of them. She knows part of the problem is the pent up energy between them. Normally they could just slip into a bunk and relieve it, but now with a child on board, that wasn’t exactly possible. 

“How long has it been?” She asks, tilting her head as he nuzzles against her neck. 

“A month?” He asks, lips brushing against her skin. 

“Yeah, after Esus when you took down that Octuptarra.” She says. “I was ready to get on my knees right then and there.” She can feel his smirk against her neck. 

“You enjoyed that, huh?” His teeth graze her neck, making her shiver. 

“Immensely.” She gasps, hands falling to grip his thighs as he slips a hand down her stomach. 

He hums in her ear, gripping one of her thighs to pull it to the side. “You know I love watching you use your knife.” He trails his fingers down her thigh, her other one falling open in anticipation. “Easily one of the most attractive things I’ve ever seen.” 

Midnight smirks. “What about that time I-” 

Hunter groans, his hand closing around her thigh. “That might be the most attractive thing you’ve ever done.” 

Midnight laughs, leaning her head back against his shoulder. “It wouldn’t be hard to replicate.” 

“Not in here.” He says, kissing the back of her neck. “Once we get a chance to settle down.” 

“Is that a promise?” She asks, tilting her head to look at him. 

“It’s a promise.” He says, finally letting his hand reach the junction of her thighs. 

She’s already damp, quickly soaking through her underwear. She’s so ready for him, so ready to feel something other than the agony and anger that had been burning through her for the last few days. 

He cups her through her pants, slowly dragging his hand with enough pressure she can feel it against her clit. She relaxes back against him, letting him take over. They both need this, need to release the pressure between them. 

He takes his time, knowing Tech wouldn’t unlock the door anytime soon. He wants to make the most of this moment. It’s not likely they’ll get a chance like this again, at least for a while. 

“You look really good in civvies.” She murmurs, rocking her hips against his hand. 

“Not nearly as good as you.” He laughs, slipping his hand into her pants. He wants to feel her, get lost in the warmth of her. 

“Maybe someday we can hang the armor up for good.” She says, clutching onto his arms as he runs his fingers along her slit. “Maybe someday we can finally relax.”

He slips a finger into her, sliding in easily as her body welcomes him. She moans quietly, quickly biting her lip. They have to be quiet now. The last thing they want is any awkward questions. 

“Kriff.” She breathes, rocking her hips in time with his hand as he thrusts his finger in and out of her. “I missed this.” 

“Me too.” He murmurs against her shoulder. “Missed your sweet pussy.” 

Midnight gasps, clenching around his finger at his words. “Hunter?” She gasps, gripping his wrist. “I need you inside me.” 

“Is that an order?” He smirks. 

“I can make it one.” She says breathlessly. 

Hunter releases her, letting her shimmy out of her pants. He undoes his pants, slipping his cock out. He pumps it a few times, already half hard from the scent of her arousal alone. She sits herself in his lap, his calloused hands dragging up her thighs. She takes over for him, wrapping her hand around his thick length. He groans quietly at her touch, watching her face as she pumps him. 

She shifts her hips over him, sinking down onto him. She’s tight around him, gripping him like a vice. He can feel every inch of her, every essence of her being as she sinks down fully on his length. His hands grip her hips, feeling the softness of her, the warmth of her pressed against him. 

He wraps his arms around her, stilling her for a moment. They’re still clothed, but he can feel her. The scent of her arousal is thick in the enclosed space. He can hear the quick thump of her heart in her chest. He loves the sound, finding himself seeking it out when he feels stressed or worried. 

The worst thing he can imagine is that sound disappearing. 

“Hunter.” She breathes, pressing her forehead to his. 

“I’ve got you, mesh’la.” He says, wrapping his arms around her waist. 

She begins to move, rocking her hips against his. It’s fast and a bit sloppy, both of them wanting to make the most of the time they have. 

Hunter presses his lips to hers to keep her quiet, his hands sliding down to cup her ass. He helps her move, feeling how close she is by the way she’s squeezing around him. She whimpers against his lips as her clit brushes against his pelvis, fingers tangling in his hair. 

She cums quickly, and so does he, spilling into her. He holds her close, letting her collapse against him. He feels guilty for how he had been treating her. They all were struggling with Crosshair’s betrayal, but she had felt it the most. He could practically feel her anguish and he had gone and said all the wrong things, done all the wrong things. He could have lost her, so many times. He could lose any of them, Crosshair was proof of that. 

The thought of losing Midnight hurts the most. 

“Love you.” She whispers, clinging to him. 

“I love you too.” He says, without hesitation. 

There’s movement outside the door. A small shuffle, the familiar hum of electricity then a click. Hunter watches as the button to open the door lights back up.

Taglist:

@amyroswell, @dangraccoon, @hunnythebee​, @lokigirlszendaya, @kriffingmeshla, @storm-breaker7  

[mamamittens]

Bite Me (I Will) +18

Day #5 of Spooktober!

Fandom: One Piece (Regency-ish AU – Look, I’m not a historian, consider this like… Romance Novel Regency Era)

AO3 link ;)

Ship: Vampire!CrocodileXF!Reader

Warnings: blood kink/play, biting, breath play, oral sex, rough sex, dirty talk, degradation, unsafe sex, dom/sub undertone (That probably turned into overtones, my bad), overstimulation, aphrodisiac, begging, and light somnophilia implied (reader wakes up to oral). Oh! And implied future corruption kink and sex in a church (threat or a promise, you decide).

Word Count: 5,029

@tardiiart

Perhaps the illustrious ballroom would be more impressive if you hadn’t seen at least a dozen just as opulent in the past three months. This season had been particularly busy compared to the past few years, though you aren’t sure why exactly. Well, actually, you do know why. But the probable reason was ridiculous enough you refused to acknowledge it out loud or even in your head.

See… it might be your fault. Sort of.

You fiddled a little with the black lace sleeve of your dress. The height of fashion and just a bit ahead, the dark red dress was bold against the white marble and golden hallway. Tucked in close to your chest with a corset with layers of fabric that fanned out around you, you were quire fond of the design. Elegant and just a little spicy with the lacy cover that prevented a clear view of your breasts. Many men had given you’re a second glance tonight… it was a shame your thoughts rested with none of them at all.

No, you were thinking of only one man. And the source of your busy dance schedule this season.

It started late last season when the illusive and reclusive Earl of Alabasta, Lord Crocodile, finally deigned to appear at the party of a Duchess. Presumably as a favor of some kind since he was famous for refusing any invites to all functions not directly related to his duties or business obligations. The man cut quite the figure among a group of tittering young ladies vying for his attention. Suit immaculately tailored with crisp lines in a color so dark you were only somewhat sure it wasn’t actually black. It contrasted greatly with his famous gold hook—which he received in an incident many years back that the rumor mill still could not pin down to this day. Dark hair slicked back as he stared, bored as shit, with a fat cigar clenched between his teeth and a thin scar stretching over his nose and cheeks in a seamless line.

The man looked so sullen to be there you decided it wouldn’t hurt to bring him some wine. Hopefully getting a little tipsy would improve his night. He seemed appreciative at the time, eagerly accepting the glass and excusing himself to the balcony area—much to the disappointment of the hopeful young ladies that gave you sharp glances for the interruption. If Lord Crocodile had been looking for a wife, it would be the talk of the city. So their time would honestly be better spent looking elsewhere. You, at least, were quite happy without a husband. Your fortune firmly your own and no family close enough to have a say in the matter, you were free to do as you pleased with no plans to change that.

Naturally, you were quite surprised when Lord Crocodile asked you to join him in a waltz not an hour later, wine and cigar free. There was a slightly awkward pause as you took in his request—and another when you tried to puzzle out how to hold his hook. But, thankfully, Lord Crocodile found your hesitance amusing rather than insulting.

“Grip the base, if you must, my lady.” Lord Crocodile suggested with a sly smirk. You huffed, startled as your face heated up for a moment before wrapping your hand around the base of his golden hook. You stared up at him with narrowed eyes, tipping your chin up with your own smile.

“I suppose it will have to do, so long as you don’t falter in this dance, Lord Crocodile.” You challenged. His smirk fell for a second before growing back with an arched, smug brow.

“Oh, I’m sure I won’t disappoint, my lady.” The Earl suggested before sweeping you onto the dance floor. Despite his famous shut-in ways, the waltz was precise and breathtaking. Lord Crocodile never failing to dip, swing, and lead you around the floor in time with the music. His height actually proved to be more of a challenge than his hook, leading you to stare firmly at the buttons of his jacket or demurely glance up through your lashes.

When the orchestra finally ended, you were almost breathless and giddy. It had been ages since you’d danced like that. Still, you could hardly allow the smug bastard to win completely.

“It appears you are quite… adequate of a dance partner, my lord.” You laughed, attempting to step back, but his grip on your waist didn’t falter.

Lord Crocodile slowly removed his hand and stepped back. Pulling his hook, and your hand still firmly gripping the warm metal, to his lips as he bowed. His lips brushed your gloved knuckles softly, breath seeping into the fabric as he chuckled.

“As are you, my lady… perhaps I shall have to find you on the dance floor again?” he suggested lightly with burning eyes. Shocked at his forwardness, you couldn’t help but smile.

“Perhaps.” You acquiesced.

Ever since then he’s danced with you at every ball at least once. Each time with vague innuendo that you coyly responded to without addressing the lewdness of his phrasing because unlike him, you were raised better than that. Incorrigible bastard that he is.

This ball was the same as the others in the end. Glittery finery abound, eager young ladies seeking a husband, gossiping old ladies on the sidelines, and him. Striding across the room to ask for a dance he knew you would accept. Still immaculately dressed and cocky as ever, you had half a mind to turn him down despite the improperness of such a request just to wipe the smug look off his face. And then, for once, there was a break in routine.

A handsome young man cut in front of you.

Eager and bold, he asked for your hand in a dance and too surprised to turn him down, you agreed.

He wasn’t… a terrible dancer. Though you once teased Lord Crocodile of being ‘adequate’, you grudgingly admitted that this young man fit far better than the Earl. A bit too unsteady, hands just shy of improper and loose, you couldn’t quite lose yourself in the waltz. He also used far too much cologne, which was unfortunate since this particular waltz required you to keep close to the young man. You actually had enough room to think about how awkward it was going to be to ensure this young man never sought your hand for a dance again once the music wound down.

Thankfully, just like any other time in a dance, Lord Crocodile didn’t let you down.

Just before the young man—did he even give his name? How improper of him—could speak, a gold hook wrapped around your wrist and gave a slight tug. Shocked by his boldness, you nevertheless allowed Lord Crocodile to pull your hand up to be kissed.

“My apologies, my lady. I almost didn’t recognize you in such a lovely dress… I hope you still have the energy for one more dance?” Lord Crocodile asked coyly, dismissing the unfortunate young man with a glance. Though he sputtered, the young man left without comment. “You appear quite… unsatisfied with your previous partner’s performance.”

“And you believe you can rectify that?” You asked, just as coy. Lord Crocodile merely smiled and took your hand, sweeping you into a wide arch for a much more invigorating waltz.

“I haven’t left you wanting yet, have I?” Lord Crocodile asked, leading you flawlessly as you instinctively rested your hand just below his hook.

“What if you have left me wanting, my lord?” You tipped your head back with a sly grin. Lord Crocodile paused for a heartbeat before grinning.

“Then I’ll have to rectify that, won’t I, my lady?” Crocodile leaned down and whispered into your ear. You gasped, shocked and delighted in equal measure. A subdued cologne mixed with whiskey and ashes tickled your nose.

Flushed with heat and feeling unusually faint in your tight corset, you laughed.

“Oh, promises, promises my lord.” You tittered softly, “You should be more careful with your words. Someone might misconstrue them into something perverse.” A puff of warm air tickled your ear.

“No need to misconstrue anything if that’s exactly what I mean. You really do look ravishing in that dress, you know.” Crocodile whispered, “And I find myself compelled to your side with every dance.”

“Oh, I’d say you must tell every lady that, but it shocks me that you find your way to the dancefloor at all.” You teased, letting your dress flare in a spin Crocodile eagerly allowed.

“Perhaps I can’t stand to be called merely ‘adequate’, my lady.” Crocodile teased back as the song slowly drifted off. You were both on the edges of the dance floor now as he lead you to the back door where a few party goers were slipping out to enjoy the gardens. “If you’re not exhausted, I thought we could enjoy some fresh air?” he asked.

You smiled, nodding eagerly.

“The gardens sound quite nice, actually.” Of course, it wasn’t just the garden that you were both intending to enjoy. The air was crisp tonight outside of the ballroom. The rose bushes and flowers immaculately tended in clear paths that lead to a hedge maze. Pumpkin lanterns decorated the way and provided ample light further out.

As a gentleman should, Crocodile offered his arm for you to hold. Something you eagerly took advantage of, enjoying the warmth and firmness under your hands. The quiet walk was serene, interrupted only by the clack of your heels on the paved pathway and the sound of leaves brushing your dress as you walked by. Crocodile, a man you were beginning to suspect of incredible deviancy, lead an almost straight path to the maze. Where neither one of you could be seen from the outside.

You snorted, Crocodile giving you a sly glance. You merely batted your eyelashes and smiled.

“You’re a bold man, my lord.” Crocodile grinned, showing more teeth than you’d ever seen before. Sharp, too… unusually so.

“And to think this is only the start, my lady.”

“You promise?” You asked demurely, teasing him. Crocodile paused just after the first turn in the maze and leaned down to whisper against your temple.

“I’ll do much more than make promises for you, my lady. I’m a… man of action. Promises are sweet, pretty things meant to tempt you. And I intend to offer much more tangible delights in my seduction. If you think you can handle me.” You gasped, shocked as his breath curled around your hairline. Your heart raced and you loved it. “I want to hear you say it, my lady. I want more than just that pretty heart beating for me.”

“Oh? And what do you want to hear me say, my lord? That I enjoyed dancing with you? Greatly?” You pulled away from his arm and spun around, laughing as you walked back further into the maze. “That I find you quite scandalous and bold? And that I like that about you very much?” You challenged.

Crocodile narrowed his eyes dangerously and smirked, stalking forward as you tried to move backwards faster. You only managed a few dizzy turns before your back met a prickly wall of shrubbery.

A dead end. With Crocodile standing tall before you, his body coated in moonlight as he confidently walked closer to you. Until you had to bend you neck to look up at him. Cold, golden metal nipped at your chin as he tilted your head up more.

“Well, my lady, I think…” Crocodile leaned down until his lips ghosted over yours, whiskey and wine mixing between you both, “That was a very good start.” You smirked, reaching up to grasp at his tie.

“Right… you’re a man of action. I almost forgot.” You yanked on his tie hard, sending his lips crashing into yours. Bold and drunk on the illicitness of your actions, you swept your tongue between his teeth and hissed as something nicked you. Blood tainting the kiss as Crocodile groaned, cradling your head with one hand as he deepened your shared passion. Chasing your tongue with his own eagerly.

A soft, plaintive sound slipped out from you as you clutched his suit, answered by a sharp growl that vibrated on your lips. You laughed a little, reaching up to tug on his hair, peaking through your lashes to find his eyes bearing down on your hungrily. They seemed to glow red hot the longer his lips slid over yours, as though he was finally sating his desire and you were thrilled to be there for it. But unfortunately, you couldn’t lose yourself under his heady kiss forever.

You started to pull back when his hand slipped lower, thumb sliding over your throat and squeezing. You gasped, swallowing hard against the pressure as Crocodile growled, resuming the kiss with a harsh nip to your bottom lip. Your breath became labored under his attention, every inhale hard earned under his firm hand. Your eyes slid shut as you leaned into his chest, mewling as the motion briefly dislodged his hand and cool air rushed down your throat. He huffed softly, tongue slipping back further as he dropped the pretense and gripped the column of your throat.

Your heart throbbed, blood racing against his firm grip as you struggled to breath, dizzy. Suddenly, almost as fast as it started, Crocodile pulled back. His tongue slow to leave as lewd strings pulled and snapped with every heave of your chest. He panted, smirk evident as he took in your debauched state.

“I knew it.” He whispered, licking his lips. “You taste like divine perfection… We should stop. Shouldn’t we? You’d be utterly ruined if I gave into what your eyes promise here and now.” Still lightheaded, you laughed.

“I thought you didn’t like promises? And why would anyone need to know you take my breath away?” You giggled. Crocodile smirked.

“Well, neither one of us would have a choice when you start screaming.” You arched a brow.

“And you’d let me?” you challenged. Crocodile sucked in a harsh breath and scoffed.

“What a troublesome young lady, you are. So eager to throw it all away for a moment of pleasure.” Crocodile brushed his hook against your cheek and you leaned into it.

“Only a moment?” you scoffed back, “And here I thought you were a man of action, my lord.” He narrowed his eyes at your, light flashing unnaturally in their depths as he leaned over to whisper against your ear again.

“If you really are so eager for me, leave your window open tomorrow night.” You laughed, turning your head to kiss his cheek.

“Like naughty schoolchildren, my lord?” The smile Crocodile gave you, despite all his pretty words, promised something dark and dangerous.

“Oh, I’m so much worse than a randy young man could ever be.” You tipped your head up to smile at him.

“I’m looking forward to it.” Crocodile briefly softened then, brushing his thumb over your cheek and giving you a chaste kiss.

“I would never disappoint a lady.”

Naturally, you parted ways after that, barring the few moments you both took to set things in order. And you feigned a fever the next day, choosing instead to set out two glasses and a bottle of wine after the sun slipped over the horizon. As tempting as it was to dress up, you decided that there was no point in wasting any makeup or time prettying up your hair. Nor was there any need for a fancy dress.

Windows wide open to the night air, doors locked and staff dismissed clear across the estate, you poured yourself a glass. Your white nightgown was barely enough to stave off the chill in the air. The sheer white thigh high socks a last-minute addition once you realized it was only getting colder. And then you waited.

But not for long.

The sound was soft. Like satin brushing against your skin as a breeze swept through your room. The windows softly locking shut. Startled, you turned to find Crocodile there, elegantly dressed as always. Silently, you offered him a glass.

“How kind of you, but I’m afraid I desire something with more body.” Crocodile stalked across the room and tipped your chin back, “Are you sure you want this, my lady?” Crocodile asked.

Instead of replying, you set down your glass and pulled him close, licking his lips as he groaned in surprise.

“I thought you were a man of action?” You taunted him.

Crocodile was briefly shocked before he grinned, scooping you up into his arms and tossing you onto the bed. He parted his lips wide, showing off his teeth—so sharp in the light you gasped.

“Some would say that it’s debatable I’m a man at all.” Crocodile purred, “But if you’re still unafraid, you have my word that tonight will take your breath away.”

He deliberately hovered over you, bracing his hook on your bed as his hand squeezed your waist. You didn’t bother thinking too deeply on the matter. Questions could come later. You wanted him now.

You shoved your thigh against his burning erection.

“Feels like a man to me, Earl.” You breathed, “But maybe I need a closer inspection?” Crocodile allowed a satisfied grin to overtake his features as he roughly shoved off his clothes.

“Perhaps you do.” Crocodile declared, removing his buckle and releasing his cock. Proudly, he stepped back and grasped it in his hand. “Kneel. You wanted to inspect it, did you not?” Breathlessly, you slid off your bed to your knees. His dick inches from your face. You slipped your tongue over the weeping head and he groaned, hips thrusting forward instinctively.

“Certainly seem to taste like a man.” You whispered, slowly allowing the head to slide between your lips. His hand rested on your hair in a firm grip, pulling you in close.

“Hn. Better be sure. That’s it. Take it in deep.” Crocodile groaned, thrusting his hips forward to shove his cock down your throat. You swallowed hard, Crocodile snarling as he yanked your hair. “Hardly a lady right now, are you? Taking my cock so well, are you a whore? Certainly my whore now, aren’t you?” Crocodile growled, fucking your mouth in shallow motions. His dick made your jaw ache, the hot length thick and hard on your tongue. Long enough to dip down the back of your throat. Cold metal hooked around the back of your neck and forced you to bury your nose in his crotch.

A very unlady-like moan vibrated his cock, another stifled snarl slipping past his lips. Suddenly, he yanked your head off of him.

“If you want my seed, you have to earn it, my lady. Get on the bed. It’s time for your own inspection.” Crocodile demanded, “Do you taste like a lady?”

You scrambled back on the bed as he laughed at your eagerness. Teasingly, Crocodile ensure you laid down flat by running his hook up your body, the sharp tip brushing over your clothed thigh and breasts until he caught the collar. Then, with a harsh jerk, he cut it clean in half. You gasped, attempting not to arch your spine for his roaming hand as he cradled your breast. Pinching the delicate skin with a pleased hum.

Crocodile licked up your belly and nipped the underside of your breast, pressing his tongue hard into your skin until he found your nipple. Curling around the stiff peak, playing with your body, Crocodile suddenly opened his mouth wide and bit down. Fangs sinking in deep as you attempted to scream, the sound cut by his hand grasping your throat. It felt like fire spread through your veins as you shuddered, gasping for air as he sucked in greedily.

Drinking your blood like the finest wine. After only a few moments, Crocodile drew back with a bone-deep growl. His eyes were red, glowing in the subdued light of your room. Blood dripped down his lips as he licked them away. He ripped away the torn remnants of your nightgown.

“Mine. You taste like you’re mine.” Crocodile growled, launching forward to bully his tongue down your throat. He tasted like hot iron and desire as he ate away what little gasps of air you could manage. Your blood was still on fire as he shoved his hand between your soaked lips, teasing your clit as you squirmed. His fingers slipped down lower with ease, sliding into your cunt and spreading your body wide as you keened brokenly. Body quivering as the fire burned hotter.

Despite the absence of his hand on your throat, you found it no easier to breath as moans and pathetic whines slipped onto his tongue. And he ate them all down eagerly, even as you drenched his hand. He shoved your thighs apart as he slid down your body, pausing to lap at the beads of blood that dripped down your breast before kissing your exposed cunt. Licking up your slick mess as eagerly as he drank from you. And when your pussy was clean, he turned his head, brushing down the lacy top of your thigh-high sock and bit into the silky skin freshly exposed, finally allowing you to scream breathlessly as more fire was added to your body.

This time he didn’t drink so heavily, merely sipping from your quivering thigh, choosing instead to smear it up to your cunt to mix the liquids together. The moan that slipped from his lips was sadistic and hedonistic. Pleased and eager as he lapped at the growing pool of bloodied cream. Over the wet smacks you could hear a distinctly damp rhythm further down. What sounded like Crocodile angrily fisting his cock to your taste as you came again with a broken cry.

Snarling, Crocodile flipped your body over, shoving your thighs apart and ass up.

“P-P-Please, O-Oh! I-I want you so bad—my lord please g-give me your cock I’m burning alive—take me! T-Take me-Oh~!” You keened as Crocodile loomed over your body, cock burning against your dripping cunt. He slammed into your ass, hook slipping around your throat and pulling your head back. Crocodile sneered down at you as he fucked you, panting and snarling as you cried. “C-Cro—hng~!” He deliberately pressed his hook against your throat, cutting you off.

“I never said you could have the honor of using my name, slut.” Crocodile snapped his hips furiously, splitting open your sopping wet cunt mercilessly, “It’s lord to you. Not that titles matters when your moaning like a whore. My whore that likes it when I squeeze your throat, don’t you? Go on. Answer me, my lady.” His hook left only to be replaced by his firm hand.

You gasped and moaned for air between his thick cock breaking your body and his harsh grip around your throat.

“Y-Yeee—ahn-hngh~ mmmmm—aaahh-hah-oh! Oh~!” You jerked as his cock brushed over a sensitive spot again. Crocodile laughed harshly, finally letting go of your throat as your orgasm rushed through your body, soaking his thighs. “YES! AH-hah-Oh! Oh! M-My lo—aaa-hah~!—Lord! Mmmmm-my lord—yes, please! Please, harder—Yes! Yes! Y-Yess—oh!” Crocodile’s grip on your hip was bruising as he drove his cock into your body harder. Just as you asked.

“W-What a polite lady I have the pleasure of having tonight. So pretty on my cock. My wanton little whore~” Crocodile cooed, still fucking you hard. “What a waste of a cute little cunt—empty until I came along. Aren’t you thankful for your lord? Providing you with everything you could never have before?” You nodded, drunk as another orgasm built up in your body. Blood burning bright still.

“Y-Yes, I-I’m so grateful to y-y-OooooH~!” You threw your head back with a sharp moan, “M-My lord—Please! Please give it to me—I-I’m still burning up I need more~!” You keened attempting to bury your head into the mattress.

Swiftly, Crocodile slammed into your cunt. Arms winding under your thighs as he picked you up against his chest. His hand fixed back around your throat like it belonged there. He squeezed as you cried out at how deeply his cock rested in your body, your moan turning into a strained gurgle as he bounced you on his length.

“You’ve hardly earned that, lovely. Only ladies get what they want. Whores make do.” Crocodile squeezed hard as he thrust up into your body ruthlessly. Using you for his pleasure. “Feel that? Not me fucking your pretty pussy—that fire? It won’t stop until I say so. Because this body? Mine. These lips? Mine. This tight cunt? Mine. And you have to earn it. Batting your eyelashes won’t get you anywhere with me. Beg.”

Like a fucking monster, Crocodile squeezed your throat harder. Cutting off any attempt at communicating before you could start. You could only weakly moan and bear down on his cock as he fucked you stupid. Hoping that he would take mercy eventually. He couldn’t go forever, could he? You jerked uselessly in his hold as you squirted. Every orgasm hitting you harder as he kept your from even screaming.

Anytime he slowed down he started to ease up on your throat, tempting you to speak. And you barely managed to let his title slip before he rammed his cock into your body and squeezed you again. And again. Dragging you over the edge repeatedly as you lost all sense of time. There was only the ever intensifying burning fire in your blood as you creamed.

Finally, you’re cock-addled brain had a different idea.

“B-Bite me! Bite me!” You yelped just as his grasp tightened. He faltered, his thick cock throbbing hard in your walls.

“What did you say?” Crocodile snarled into your hair, releasing your throat.

“Bite me. T-Take everything—I want it so bad. Your fangs-your cock—I-I’m yours, right? Then bite me.” You begged breathlessly, gasping for air while you still could. You screamed when his cock was ripped from your overstimulated body. Your knees shoved onto his shoulder as he hovered over you with a manic grin.

“I will.” Crocodile dipped his head down as you exposed as much skin as possible. Slamming his cock into you as his fangs pierced your flesh. Hard and faster than humanly possible, your lord railed into you. Your cunt slapping against his thighs with harsh, wet slaps.

Crocodile raced against your beating heart, attempting to drain you dry before you came again on his cock. Drinking down your blood with a heady moan as you screamed, jerking under his body as he slammed into you. Thrusting softly as hot, thick cum filled your abused cunt. Cooling the fire as he groaned into your neck. Panting, you weakly pet his hair. Eyes sliding shut as he slipped his tongue over your pulse with a groan.

Birdsong and a burning fire in your stomach greeted you. The curtains were drawn tight, only the barest streams of daylight visible. Something hot and slick slipped into your cunt as you moaned softly. Weak and dizzy, you could only roll your hips into the sensation. Firm lips pressing into your clit as thick fingers crooked into the walls of your pussy. Your orgasm swept by gently, but you got the distinct impression you fainted for a moment.

When you opened your eyes properly, you nuzzling into a firm, bare chest. Head tucked on a muscular bicep as someone stroked your hair. The scent of a cigar was thick in the air, along with sex and blood.

“Go back to sleep, little lady. I’ve sent for a hearty breakfast—you’ll need every drop you can get.” Crocodile groaned low in his chest, “You taste fucking divine.” You curled your fist against his chest and hummed. Pausing at the unfamiliar weight of metal on your ring finger.

“Hm? Wha—hng—what’s this, my lord?” You asked, pulled back slightly to take a look. It was a gold wedding band with delicate carvings along the side and studded with red gemstones. A large diamond on the top the obvious centerpiece.

“I know I fucked you hard, little lady, but I know you know what a wedding ring is.” Crocodile laughed, exhaling smoke before removing the cigar from between his lips. He pressed a kiss to your temple. “You’re mine, remember? We’ve eloped. How scandalous of us, huh? Papers already all in order. We can throw a big to-do about it later if you’d like. Might make you work for that though… hmm… then again, fucking you against a pulpit before our wedding sounds nice. A vampire and his pretty, innocent bride, bent over in a wedding dress…” You laughed softly.

“Not sure I’d be considered very innocent now.” You admitted, pressing a kiss to his chest. “…Vampire?” You asked, causing Crocodile to scoff.

“Of course! What kind of a weirdo do you take me for? Or did you think I was a kinky fucker that liked blood?” You peaked up at him from under your lashes with a sly smile.

“I distinctly remember you finally cumming inside me only after sinking your teeth into my neck, my lord.” You nipped his chest, “So I’m pretty sure you’re a kinky fuck regardless of your mortality.”

Crocodile gave a sharp bark of laughter, yanking your head back and sneering around the bud of a cigar.

“Yer a sassy little fucker, ain’t ‘cha? I’d fuck it out of ya, but I don’t think you’d be conscious for most of it righ’ now.” Crocodile said from around his cigar, speech muddled somewhat.

“You can try. What’s mine is yours, after all.” You taunted. “I don’t think I imagined you drinking from my cunt earlier this morning either.” Crocodile snorted.

“Damage control. My spit makes pretty little ladies like you heal faster.”

“Oh, so does that mean you’ll have to give me more bruises later?” You blinked innocently. Crocodile snarled softly, but his eyes were bright with promise.

“You know what? I think I just might.”

[fromvitya]

"It burns me. Everything I haven't been, everything I've abstained from, all debts I will never get a chance to repay. So if I should devour or be devoured, let it happen while there's still some life left within me, while I'm still able to feel anything at all, be it guilt or regret. Let me remind you, and in return keep me warm for a moment longer."

Distant as a sound of thunder but now it wouldn't stop pouring. With jaw clenched, eyes narrowed, focused on searching for connection, he became the very picture of relentlessness, recklessness. But now freshly enlightened, he wouldn't give up for nothing, not even when every word unspoken, every word that musn't been spoken yet, burned at the back of his throat.

"Makes me feel it for once. Your hunger becomes mine."

Past hope and past hopelessness, against the threat and the promise to be gone the next moment, Akira drew nearer and that hurt also. To have him near but only that near, to have him now for a blink of an eye and gone the next second, like a half remembered dream. But with a sharp intake of air, skin brushed against skin, nose on cheek, lip on the lip and to keep himself steady he must have lost his mind.

"No, the lowest of beasts; a human. But even so, what if those moments of dusk and dawn would have been worth it, until you forget all about me or read a different fortune for yourself among the stars if I cannot first rearrange them for us?"

"Rivers... I created rivers of my pain, of longing. I've seen plenty, and I sometimes wonder if I've seen too much. I killed, I devoured, I purified and purged, and it seems that my eyes are blind now. Yet, deep down, oh so deep, within my own belly, at the bottom of my very heart, I worry that your sins, your movements and your untold story will turn me into something that is forgotten already. Ah, I don't wish for you to be my another passing thought. I don't want to shed any tears to pay for memories of you."

wave of words. of many meanings, and with the tongue providing, akira's actions demanded, therefore, when Viktor levelled himself enough to fill out the gaze of weak one, vampire acted on the natural instinct ;; to plough, to inhale, to sink low and become a shadow of the night.

" you talk so freely about being on a par with me, my unnamed, but look how weak I am. Tell me, does it feed your hunger? the view of someone dead being finally alive?"

facades;; so close. almost colliding like million stars. almost killing the beauty of figures. but akira was mere a man. a man of no words. and with the silence after, the scent of other was tasted :; by hovering. by grazing viktor's mouth with his own exhales.

"is it because you are but a wolf in sheep’s clothing? ;;; Ah, but that is the ugliness of our nature... once the light embraces you, I won't be able to stay at your feet. I will leave you every morning, and you will abandon me every night. a magnificent and sorrowful storyline. and for me to wish to be a butterfly resting on the edge of your palm whenever you enjoy the light is a torture that I shall forget."

[seijorhi]

To the Wolves

my (first) entry for the Deal With the Devil collab, because i couldn’t resist writing for Yakuza Getou <33

Getou Suguru x Female Reader

TW Extremely dubious consent, coercion, manipulation, threats, implied murder, smut, nsfw

“No. I- I won’t.”

Sitting comfortably on the old, worn couch in your cramped little apartment, Getou raises a single eyebrow, “Oh? Is that so?”

His voice is perfectly pleasant, the smile on his face a touch amused, but you’re not so naive as to believe that the question is anything but a generous offer for you to rethink your reply. A smart person would take it – since the day you’d first arrived home to find him waiting for you, Getou hadn’t so much as laid a finger on you. He had no need for guns or knives, never shouted or bullied you, his reputation more than enough to cow you into submission before he’d even opened his mouth.

Of course, once he had, the simple threats to your friends and family’s lives had made certain that you were more than amenable to his request.

A mutually beneficial arrangement, he’d called it, as if there hadn’t been tears silently streaming down your face, your whole body stiff with fear. 

But that was the world he came from. Violence and ruthlessness, cruelty masquerading as kindness.

By all accounts, someone like you – a lowly admin assistant living a very boring, mundane life – should never have crossed paths with a man like Getou. The irony, of course, being that it was precisely because of your job that he’d been drawn to you in the first place. 

“I-I said no,” you stammer. “I’m not doing it.”

Getou sighs, long, pale fingers idly fixing the cuff of his left sleeve. “I had no idea the lives of your loved ones meant so little to you.”  

“Please, I-” you break off, biting your lip as your hands curl into useless fists at your side, “I can’t. Anything else, I’ll do anything, I swear it, just… please.”

Men like Getou aren’t the type to be swayed by pretty words or tearful pleas, but there’s an unmistakable glimmer of interest that flickers in his eyes at the offer. Casually, he leans forward, resting his chin on the palm of his hand and regarding you with a smirk. “So you’ll bring me the list of witnesses then?”

The barely audible hitch in your breath is enough to make him chuckle.

“No? How about those surveillance tapes, hm?” Smoothly, he rises to his feet and makes his way towards you. “Careful, little one, first rule of negotiation is knowing when you have something to bargain with. Don’t promise me what you can’t give.”

“Getou–”

He raises a hand and you quickly fall silent. There’s only inches between you two now, Getou’s taller, broader frame looming over yours. He could kill you like this, you realise with panic – reach out and wrap his hands around your throat and snap your pretty little neck before you could so much as scream. The tailored line of his jacket hides the gun he has holstered at his side, but Getou knows you're aware of its presence, have been since the very first time he’d broken into your home and threatened you. 

It’d take him only moments to draw the sidearm, even less for him to pull the trigger.

The walls of your apartment are thin, would your neighbours come if they heard gunfire? Would you, for that matter, if your roles were reversed?

Yet Getou makes no move for his gun, instead reaching for your chin, tilting it up with two curled fingers until you meet his gaze, “You understand, don’t you, that I make one phone call and that charming sister of yours and her fiance meet a very tragic, very untimely end?”

He pauses, waiting until you jerk a quick nod of assent before continuing. “You love them. There’s nothing wrong with that, nothing wrong with prioritising the ones you love over everybody else.” His voice is gentle, but the words make you shake, dread rising from the pit of your stomach as the pad of his thumb grazes over your bottom lip. 

You don’t know if you’re supposed to say something to that, but even as you try, you can’t summon the words. The by now familiar scent of his cologne tickles your nose and invades your throat, the warmth of his touch burning through your veins. Your own heart hammers like a drumbeat in your chest, every cell in your body screaming danger, but you don’t run, you don’t even flinch.

Getou smiles kindly, and perhaps if you hadn’t seen first hand the aftermath of his handiwork you might be tempted to believe it. His spare hand reaches into his jacket, but instead of the gun you’re expecting, he pulls out his phone, the screen flickering to life with a swipe of his finger. “So tell me, before I make a call you and I both know you don’t want me to make, why you’ve suddenly decided that their lives aren’t worth your compliance?”

Nanami. Your boss’s face flashes to your mind, the odd, fleeting glances he’d sent your way over the past few weeks when he’d thought you weren’t paying attention. Your stomach erupts with butterflies, your cheeks unwittingly warming, but you just shake your head, “If I give you those files, you’ll kill them. You’ll hurt them.”

“Maybe,” he hums, “maybe not. It’s no less than those monkeys deserve, don’t you think?” He spits the word like it’s venom, the twitch in his jaw the only chink in his otherwise effortless composure. “You’re protecting them, even now.”

You make no attempt to defend yourself, terrified of saying the wrong thing and setting him off, but Getou seems entirely unfazed, laughing coldly at your stricken expression.

“Your boss, the one with the perpetual stick up his ass; Nanami,” potent disdain drips from his tone at the name, “Always so morally righteous, sitting up on his high horse. You think he cares for you, that he’ll protect you when all of this comes out? And it will come out eventually,” he says, his smirk widening at the sudden pallor in your face. “At some point there’ll be one too many unfortunate coincidences, and the higher ups will realise that they have a mole in their ranks. Fingers will be pointed of course, but eventually even those idiots will figure it out.”

A knot tightens inside of your chest at his words, constricting until it feels like you can’t breathe. You’re shaking your head, eyes filling with tears, “N-no–”

“Oh, little one,” Getou murmurs, dark eyes drinking in every ounce of your distress. “Surely you realised that they have security cameras covering every inch of your floor? There was no reason to look before, but once they do…” he trails off, letting go of your chin in favour of brushing the back of his knuckles along your cheek. “They’ll throw you to the wolves.”

His voice is soft and cruel, belied by the gentleness of his touch, but it does nothing to quell the rising sense of dread inside of you. You want to believe it’s a lie, another threat meant to scare you into submission, but some deeper part of you recognises the truth in his words. 

Nanami, who’d told you once that there was innocence and there was guilt and very little in between. Nanami, whose office you’d bugged, whose trial only weeks ago you’d all but derailed with a few misplaced documents. You think back to the late nights shared in his office, bowls of ramen and case files scattered across the desk between you. You think of the rare smiles, his oddly dry sense of humour, the pleasant fluttering in your heart–

“You’ll rot in prison long before I do, and there is not a soul among that insipid bunch that would lift a finger to stop that from happening to you.” 

A soft, strangled noise leaves your lips as you fight not to sob, and Getou sighs, the corners of his lips twitching downwards in contrived sympathy. “Say the word and I’ll walk away tonight. I’ll still have to kill your sister – I am a man of my word, you understand – but I promise it’ll be the last you see of me.”

He slides his phone back into the breast pocket of his jacket, taking your face in both of his hands as tears spill down long lashes. “And when they come for you, you can tell them I threatened you, show them what little proof you have – if you have any at all. Maybe it’ll even make a difference,” he says. “But I doubt it.”

Every word is like a knife, slicing away at the raw, bleeding, vulnerable parts of you.

“Please…” It’s weak and desperate, your voice cracked and broken. You don’t even know what you’re begging for anymore; your sister’s life, for Getou’s mercy, or maybe just for him to stop saying such awful things. He must take pity on you though, because he sighs once more, his right thumb sweeping across your wet cheek to brush away silvery tear tracks. 

“I’m not a complete monster, you know. I protect what’s mine.”

And in one breath, everything screeches to a standstill and a trickle of very real fear creeps down your spine. There’s no mistaking his implication, not when he’s holding your face like that, his eyes dark and simmering with an intensity that makes your stomach flip.

“W-what?”

Getou closes the gap between you two, a startled noise leaving your lips as his hips press flush up against you. “Don’t play stupid, sweet thing,” he murmurs, and it sounds like a warning, “It doesn’t suit you.”

One hand slips to your neck, the other curling almost possessively around your waist. There’s no room for you to move, to back away or free yourself. For a moment, neither of you speak, the heavy silence deafening between you.

Does he notice the way your pulse races under his fingertips as they circle your throat, how you’re shaking like a leaf beneath him? Does he want you afraid? A scared little bunny rabbit cowering from the gaping maw of the big, bad wolf? 

Judging from the bulge of his semi-hard cock pressing into the soft flesh of your belly, he’s not entirely unaffected, and for the first time it’s not Getou’s gun or his threats that you’re most afraid of. 

It’s the selfish, twisted want that glitters and glints in those pitiless depths. You’ve never felt so entirely at somebody else’s mercy as you do with Getou now, staring you down like he wants to lay you bare, claim you again and again for all the world to see. And you don’t understand. There’s a thousand and one questions running through your mind, your insides twisted up into knots. 

You know what it is he’s asking of you – though asking feels like a generous word when he can so easily just take – but none of this makes sense, not when he was threatening your family’s lives only minutes ago. 

As if he can sense the turmoil and confusion raging through you, he leans down, his lips ghosting over the outer shell of your ear. “Tell me to stop, and I’ll walk away right now.”

I am a man of my word. 

His earlier statement rings through your head as you search his face for any sign of deception – you find none. But walking away means your sister dies. It means you’re left on your own to fend off the wolves when they find out what you’ve done.

Nanami might believe you. He might even defend you, but you’ve worked in the Prosecutor’s office long enough to know that duress isn’t the bulletproof defence people think it is, and for tangling with the likes of him…

You were screwed the moment he showed up in your living room, this- this is just the coup de grâce. The final damnation.

“Why me?” 

Getou doesn’t answer, but when he draws you into a kiss, his lips moving torturously slow against yours, there’s an edge of… something there, lying hidden just beneath the surface. And it terrifies you, more than his words and his promises ever could.

But when your back’s to the wall, what choice do you really have?

It feels like defeat when he takes you by the hand and leads you into your bedroom, ignoring the uncertain glance you cast over your shoulder towards the living room. You don’t want any of this, but you can pretend that it’s just… business if he fucks you out there.

Not in the bed you sleep in.

It’d be easier, you think, if it was cold and impersonal. If you cried and it stung and the only sounds in the room were flesh hitting flesh, ragged breathing and an occasional rough grunt.

There’s nothing impersonal about the way he watches you strip out of your clothes at his command. His own join yours on the floor without much ceremony – his gun pointedly set just within reach atop your nightstand.

The first time you’d laid eyes on Getou Suguru, it was two months into your new job; a photograph pinned to a thick, heavy file Nanami had dropped on your desk. A surveillance picture, you’d gathered, snapped as the man was exiting some neon lit club downtown. And you remembered the smug smirk he’d had, staring directly down the lens of the camera like it was a challenge, but that wasn’t what had struck you most.

It was the flutter of interest that’d shot through your veins the moment before common sense kicked in. Tall and fit, with long, dark hair swept up in the wind, a sharp jaw and a handsome face, you remember thinking he was probably the most attractive man you’d ever seen.

Now, standing naked before you, bright, colourful tattoos inked across his torso, accentuating the muscles that rise and fall with every measured breath, you can’t bear to look. It’s easier just to stare at the wooden floorboards, the corner of the shagged rug you’d bought at a thrift store when you first moved in. Easier to pretend Getou isn’t pulling you closer once more, pressing searing, open mouthed kisses along your neck, murmuring words that are lost to you entirely as his hands wander. You can feel it now, the heat of his body as he cages you in, his cock, thick and heavy and flushed nudging insistently up against your stomach.

You expect him to shove you to your knees, to force his cock down your throat in some archaic show of dominance before he claims your cunt, but he doesn’t. 

“I want you to touch yourself for me,” he whispers into your ear, teeth catching lightly on the sensitive lobe as you shiver. “Like you do when I’m not here, those pretty legs spread, fucking yourself on your fingers…”

The comment feels too familiar to be entirely offhanded, striking a chord of panic somewhere deep inside of you–

But it doesn’t make a difference. It doesn’t matter now.

You allow him to kiss you again before climbing onto the mattress. Like a good girl, you fall back onto the pillows, let your legs ease apart, wrapping your lips around two fingers and sucking for a brief moment before gliding your hand down between your thighs. 

His breath hitches, a soft curse sounding when saliva slicked digits spread your folds, the tip of your middle finger brushing lightly against your clit as you stroke your pussy. Your nipples harden and peak under the cool night air and you use your free hand to palm at your breast, pinching and teasing at the sensitive bud while one finger slips into the warmth of your cunt. 

The mattress dips, Getou climbing onto the bed, settling himself back on his knees, your spread legs either side of him.

“Beautiful,” he breathes. 

Your heart stutters, movements jerking as you brace for him to interfere, to touch you, but aside from nudging your thighs further apart to get a better view of your glistening cunt, he seems content simply to sit back and watch, his own hand lazily stroking at his cock.

Trying in vain to block him out, you squeeze your eyes shut and focus on the way your fingers feel between your legs, the pleasure–

 (Not the shame, don’t think about that, don’t think about Getou watching you debase yourself for his enjoyment)

–that pools in your core as you rub the shining pearl of your clit. It’s a familiar dance, a routine you’d normally help along with a glass of wine and a few faithful toys, but you don’t exactly have that luxury here.

And even with the rigid tension in your shoulders, the unwanted presence of a man you’re terrified of impossible to ignore, you can’t help the quiet moan that slips past your lips, the way your hips stutter, grinding against the heel of your palm as your fingers hit that sweet, delightful spot inside of you. 

Getou tenses at the sound, the last, fragile thread of his composure snapping–

He strikes fast. One moment you’re biting down on your bottom lip, your index and middle fingers knuckle deep in your dripping pussy, the next he’s braced atop you, one hand locked around your wrist, the other propping himself up. And as your eyes fly open with a startled cry, his lips crash against your once more – desperate and ravenous, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth to taste you.

And you don’t fight it when he pulls your hand from your pussy and drags it to his crotch, his fingers entwining with yours as he wraps them around his heavy, throbbing cock and moans. It’s humiliating, the way he thrusts into your hand, tightening his grip so you’re forced to feel every shivery twitch of his dick while he sucks eagerly on your tongue.

This is the choice you’d made, the deal you struck. It’s too late to back out now, and even if you tried to… 

“I want you,” he pants, his lips glistening with saliva, an almost manic look in those dark, pretty eyes, “to ride me.”

… you’re not so sure Getou would let you.

So you allow yourself to be manhandled, lifted and situated across his lap like a doll. Hands braced on his tattooed chest, you lift your hips just enough for him to guide his cock to your slick entrance before slowly sinking down onto his length.

Every inch hurts. 

It doesn’t make it any less painful, the way Getou soothes you, his thumbs stroking gently at your waist as you whine and mewl, feeling every ridge and vein of his cock as he stuffs you full.

“Fuck– good girl, taking me so well,” he purrs.

You’re not sure if it’s shame, pleasure, or some sense of twisted pride at the praise that has your pussy clenching, fire racing through your veins when Getou experimentally rocks his hips upwards. And if your cheeks weren’t already burning, the lewd moan that escapes you when the head of his cock hits your g-spot would certainly do the trick. 

Ever observant, he wastes no time capitalising on your slip, lifting you up just to drive you back down onto his length at the perfect angle. You shudder around him, keening out a cry that has him groaning in pleasure.

There’s no illusion of control here between you two.

You might be the one on top, but Getou’s grip’s too tight, guiding every roll of your hips against his, his own rising in time to fuck his cock deeper into your warm, velvety cunt. And somewhere distantly you recognise that this could be a thousand times worse. How easily he could change the narrative in a heartbeat, flip you over, force your face into the pillows and fuck you like a dog until you’re gasping for air. He could use you, hurt you, probably kill you without ever needing to touch the gun he’d left on your nightstand – and you wouldn’t have a hope in hell of stopping him.

But he doesn’t. Lying back against your pillows, dark hair falling from his half up-do, cheeks flushed from exertion, Getou’s attention is wholly fixed on you - on your face, eyes screwed shut, bottom lip caught between your teeth as he hits somewhere deep inside of you that has you seeing stars, on your tits, the way they bounce every time you sink back down onto his cock.

His eyes are hooded, dark and intense, searching for every hint of pleasure he’s drawn from you. You gasp his name, fingers digging into his chest, your cunt fluttering so deliciously around him – and he loses that last little bit of his self control. 

He jerks upright, one arm wrapping around your waist to anchor you to him as he braces himself with the other, and before you can so much as gasp his mouth is at your tits, hot tongue laving at soft, supple skin there.

“Suguru,” he growls, hips snapping feverishly against yours. 

“Suguru,” you parrot, head lolling back as heat coils tighter in your core. 

You’ll worry about the consequences later, when he pulls you boneless and sated into his arms and you feel his heart thumping at your back as he kisses you and tells you to sleep. When tomorrow you arrive at work and Nanami stares a beat too long as the love bites scattered across your throat, no doubt wondering why you won’t so much as look at him.

For now, you settle for pulling him closer, gasping as you chase that quaking, blissful end.