#i am like so god damn sick so I decided to write this

[the-last-f2p]

teenager Reader who feels insecure about their scars for (yandere) oda ( yandere) ango and (yandere) dazai ( together platonic ofc and I would like for reader to be fem or gender neutral)

TW: Gender neutral reader, swearing, yandere behaivour, implied kidnapping, I feel like Dazai was close to manipulating reader but bbg Ango saved the day.

Oda has been increasingly getting worried about you. Maybe it was just a teenage thing? But Dazai never acted like you were doing so queue worried father figure.

Ango on the other hand could care less are you dying? No? Then it doesn't really matter. He does care though he's too sleep deprived to give any fucks .

Dazai knows exactly whats going on. He knows everything about you and it's absolutely not creepy! He just really likes you to the point of not obsessing over you.

So when they all gather around to figure out what the hell is wrong with you well Oda and Ango try and figure it out Dazai is trying to brainstorm ideas on how to off himself. But he'll occasoinally put in some input.

And after 1 painstaking hour Dazai finally speaks up

"Oh is that what you're trying to figure out? Oh they're self concious cause of their scars." Dazai just smiles like he wasn't messing with them and that he deffintly only figured it out at that moment.

Shock.

Absoulte shock and then aggressive calling of you they were practically screaming for you to come to the Lupin.

You rushed there obviously thinking that something horrible happened but oh? But the trio where all there looking perfectly fine well as fine as they usally are.

"Why didn't you tell us? Do you not trust us?" Ango started giving you a worried mom look what is he talking about.

"I-" You were slightly confused but Ango continued "Is it because of Dazai?" You mean depending on what it was it could be but you decided to just say.

"Why would it be because o-"

"If it's cause of me I'm sorry I didn't mean to make you self concious about your scars Y/Nnnnn..!" Dazai says in an over dramatic tone.

"Be quiet." Finally someones on your side "They're obviously not gonna tell us." You were about to thank Oda but you got bandages chucked at your head. Wait..

"Here. Maybe you can use these? Out of sight out of mind.. Oh that was stupid sorry.." Oda smiled at you awkwardly it was nice of him you guess?

"But thoughtful~" You add on to what he said. "GASP Y/N has bandages are you gonna match with me are you are you are you?" Dazai picked the bandages out of your lap and started to unravel them "Can I put 'em on? I'm an expert y'know?" Dazai grins.

"Well I haven't decided yet..." "C'mon pleeeaasssee.?" "LEAVE THEM ALONE DAZAI" "Pleeeaaassseee Ango?" You tuned out the rest of the conversation but you felt a little more comfortable now with yourself , your friends, your everything. That's great anything to make you feel comfortable in one of their houses unable to leave. For your saftey of course.

[tourturestarradio]

Helloooo!! I hope you’re doing alright :3

‼️‼️‼️SPOILER FOR DEADPOOL 3‼️‼️‼️

Can I request a crack fic? With either male or gender neutral reader, with Logan and Wade, in that car fight scene?

Like, the three of them are in that Honda Odyssey, and when Logan and Wade start fighting, reader just gets so fed up, they’re like: “oh my god can y’all just kiss already? This is painful to watch.” Bc that was me the entire time I was watching that movie😭🙏🏻 You can add anything else you want in there but I would love to see that! I absolutely love how you write so I don’t doubt you could make this just as well as your others!! ☺️💙

𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐎𝐔

"𝐖𝐞'𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐚 𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫.𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐞𝐫."

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

Prompt: You're sick of Wade's and Logan's BS and for the first time you lose your temper on them.

Pairing: Deadpool/Wade Willson x G/n reader x Wolverine/Logan Howlet

Warnings: Cursing, Spoilers for Deadpool 3

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮

You ducked and dodged under both of the mens attacks they had been fighting each other for the past 30 minutes with no breaks. All because Logan couldn't keep the mouth shut. So now you sat bruises, bullet wounds, and cuts covering your body.

"Guys! G..Guys can we please stop fighting...please?" but they both ignored you again, usually you were the calm one to defuse their arguments and they'd relax, before they were back at it again.

You looked between the two your irritation growing stronger by the second.

"Uh...Wade?" he was stabbing into Logan "one moment cupcake." you dodged a stray knife headed your way "Logan?..." he broke Wades arm "not now."

You were willing to just let them fight it out that was the plan until Wade had redirected Logans blades into your leg.

That was your final straw, "Will you two just fuck already?!" you shouted looking at the two "what the fuck are you-" "Logan shut the hell up!" he closed his mouth Wade laughing at him "ha you're in trouble now-" "Wade so help me God I will shove that stupid kitana so far up your ass you're be tasting metal for a god damned month!"

They both hushed surprised by your outburst, your were usually so calm all the time.

"Every time you both are around each other it's like a enemies to lovers trope just waiting to happen! the sexual tension is palpable between you two!" You pulled Wolverines blades out of your leg "you two just can't go five fucking minutes without wanting to rip each other apart, for fucks sake!" you rolled your eyes "by some grace of God I've made it this far with you two assholes without having a brain aneurysm!"

You pulled a baby knife out of your torso pointing to Wade "I mean I get it you both have your differences, you're doing this because you got a girlfriend that barely loves you. Little to no friends who enjoy being around but you care about them and that's what's important right? Right.so you want to do everything in your will power to make sure those people don't die because without them you have nothing to distract from the impending doom you feel in your gut that you're not good enough. But god forbid you ever feel safe or scared so you cover up all your problems by making half funny jokes and witty comebacks. How's that am I in the right ball park?" You faced Logan as Wade pondered on your words.

He opened his mouth to speak but you hushed him quickly "And you, you try to be all big bad and tough but you're not you're a sad lonely man with no family or friends because in your universe they're dead and there's nothing you can do about it. But because you were left alive you carry the guilt of losing the people you cared for the most everyday wishing you could go back and fix things and make them right, but you can't they're gone for good but instead of making something out of your life and trying to start new you decided to go on a murderous rampage. So now you carry that guilt on top of everything else so you drown yourself in those chemicals in a bottle to forget or ignore your problems instead of growing a pair owning up to your mistakes!"

You got out of the car "so in conclusion you both have your reasons for being here, you want to get back the things you love most, but you two fuck faces are too idiotic to realize how much you have in common so you ignore the good character writing and argue and fight every other scene! I mean come on how much more gay could you two get!" You huffed finally letting that off your chest and turning to walk away "now i'm going to leave for an hour to blow off some steam and you both have two ultimatums you either A : take those sweaty suits off and have the best hate sex of your lives or B: shut the fuck up! Grow some balls! and get it the fuck together!" you stormed away both Logan and Wade too stunned to say anything.

.

.

.

"That was pretty hot, i've never seen them so angry."

Safe to say they made up for now and continued on with the rest of the movie.

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮

A/n: sorry this was so short!!!!! hope you enjoyed!

[stanfordswifey]

Sigh. I fear even tumblr has a lack of stanford fanfics, excuse my shitty writing but i am in desparate need for some fanfics rn i dont even care if its bad (i am NOT confident in my 'broad' vocabulary nor my writing skills) cough cough.. sorry for the yapping session, here we go!

Stanford x Reader

Assistant!reader, pre-portal and age 20-30 ford.

FLUFF / just spending time with him!!

You had known ford since highschool and stayed with him ever since, you had always thought of yourself as annoying and a burden to him but the way he looks at you, the way he smiles, makes you laugh, you can't really just let him go, so you decided to follow your heart and move with him to gravity falls! Not like anything bad could happen, right?

You two had just moved in together!! You felt butterflies in your stomach when he helped you put your shelves up, calm down, calm down. It's not like you haven't done this before with him, you two WERE roomates in college, but sure. This isn't the same setting, you clear your throat before focusing on him again, noticing he's doing his absolute best screwing the nails in deep. A thought passes through your.mind and you blush, turning away to try and play it cool, it obviously didn't work when you turned back to see ford with an eyebrow up in confusion.

"Are you sick?"

"No, just used too much makeup i guess"

He chuckles, knowing you don't even wear makeup

"Sure, mind helping me carry the equipment downstairs?"

"Of course!"

You help him carry numerous boxes with white tape on them with different labels, "machine 1 parts 1, machine 1 parts 2, machine 2 parts" so on and so forth, after 15 or 30 trips down to the basement and back you and ford decide to take a break by looking around the place. He had chosen a shack far away from the city, why? To observe the weird creatures ofc! It wouldn't be ford without his weird obession to mythical creatures, you think to yourself, knowinf damn well the said creatures aren't much of a 'myth' since you've seen some yourself when adventuring with ford. You two decide to have a picnic outside, deep in the forest. What a smart choice, let's hope nothing out of the ordinaary happens!

"So.. the weather's nice isn't it?"

"..."

"What?"

"Just eat your food this is unbearable"

Your lips curve into a smile, laughing at him

"It's not my fault its hard to hold a conversation with you!"

"You're trying too hard!"

"Well i'm sorry for trying to start a conversation"

".."

"What?"

"The weather's nice today, no?"

"Oh shut up"

The both of you laugh, you look at him, your stomach flipping, god, he looks so cute. You eventually get a hold of yourself again and the both of you continue your picnic in peace, talking about favorite animals, what animal they'd like to be, etc.

(Okay folks thats all for today i've unfortunately ran out of ideas as this was rushed and i am NOT proofreading this because its like 3am night night gang)

[youaintnothinbuta]

if you don't mind do you think you can do some Elvis angst I really enjoy them but I haven't found any and they don't have to be about anything in specific just as long as it has some angst a little fluff and smut you don't have to if you don't want to but I'll appreciate it!!! 🙏 If you want something to base it off it can be about Elvis affairs or y/n affairs and they get into fights or something and then make up but not until one of them makes it clear that they will leave one another if they don't stop (sorry if it doesn't make sense or sounds stupid😭)

I hope this covers all bases!! <3

“Come home, baby, please.” — elvis presley x reader

Summary: You and elvis are fighting about him never being around because he’s ‘too busy’ but being seen with all these girls in the newspapers constantly, when you decide you’ve had it and leave for your parents house. After days and days go by and his guilt growing, he comes and gets you and you have make up sex in the car

Pairing: Elvis Presley or Austin!elvis x fem!reader

Word count: 1,800

Warnings: angsty, argument, yelling, SMUT, 18+, car sex, make up sex, unprotected sex, probably typos

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“You’re never here, Elvis, never,” You yelled, throwing the newspapers at his feet, “and how is this supposed to make me feel any better?”

The headlines, yet again, in big, bold text, wrote about another woman spotted with him, mocking you with every word.

Elvis looked up, his expression a mix of surprise and irritation. “I am busy, Y/N, you know that, providing for you and every other god damn person I know. I have responsibilities.”

“Responsibilities? Is that what you’re calling it?” Your voice dripped with sarcasm. “Flirting with every girl who bats her eyelashes at you? Is that your responsibility too?”

He stood up abruptly, towering over you, “You know it ain’t like that, baby. Those girls mean nothing to me.”

“Then why do see these headlines every day, Elvis? Every. Damn. Day.” you retorted, your arms crossing over your chest in defiance. He leant down, picking up the newspapers you were standing on. He tore them to shreds, the sound of ripping paper filling the room.

“I don’t write these goddamn headlines, Y/N. What the hell do you want me to do about it?” His voice rose, surprising even himself with the aggression in his tone. “They ain’t mean nothin’ to me.”

“I want to believe you, Elvis, I really do,” you said, your voice trembling with a mixture of hurt and anger. “But I can’t keep living like this. I won’t be second best in your life.”

He reached out to touch your arm, but you flinched away.

“I mean it, Elvis. If this doesn’t stop, we’re over. Call me when you’re ready to start acting like a man,” you declared, your voice firm with resolve. With that, you grabbed your car keys from the bench and stormed out.

“Don’t you dare spe—“ Elvis shouted, but the door slamming shut behind you interrupted him before he could finish.

Elvis stood there, watching you go, his chest tight with a mixture of anger and regret. Huffing in frustration, he stared down at the shredded remnants of the newspapers scattered across the floor, the headlines mocking him with their accusations.

He expected you to come back that night, like you always did after a fight, but as the hours passed, and you didn’t return, he began to worry. Days went by, each one dragging on in agonising slowness as he waited for you to walk back through the door. He missed the sound of your laughter, the warmth of your eyes, the way you always knew how to soothe his mind.

One night he went out, and as per usual, he was met with the eager attention of adoring fans and all the girls who would swarm him, but it felt different this time. While he always swore it meant nothing, and it did, this time he felt sick with guilt, so much so he was headed home by midnight.

He sat alone on his side of the bed, the weight of his actions finally hit him. He realised that he couldn’t live without you, that he needed you in his life more than anything. Hesitating, he finally picked up his telephone. Unsure of where exactly you were, his best guess was your parent’s house.

His heart pounded in his chest as he waited hoped for you to pick up. Thinking he wasn’t going to get an answer, he was momentarily stunned when he heard your voice say ‘hello?’

You asked again, ‘hello?’

“Come home, baby, please,” he pleaded, his voice thick with emotion. There was silence as you replayed the sound of his voice in your mind.

“Alright, darlin’, you win,” he continued, “You’re my number one. It’s killing me going to bed without you,” he confessed.

“Come pick me up then,” you demanded, your voice softening slightly.

Without hesitation, Elvis agreed, relief flooding through him at the prospect of seeing you again. “I’m leaving right now,” he promised, the urgency in his voice evident. He really wasn’t kidding, you heard his keys jangling in his hands through the line.

You hung up, feeling a mix of emotions. You sat by the window in the living room, only a lamp on as your parents had gone to bed already, waiting for him to arrive. You didn’t know how to feel, only that you still loved him, despite everything.

It was a long drive to your parents, about 40 minutes, but he was there as soon as he could’ve been. Finally, he arrived, the headlights of his car casting long shadows across the familiar driveway. With a sigh of relief, he killed the engine and stepped out into the cool night air.

As he approached the front door, he hesitated for a moment, his hand poised to knock. But before he could make a sound and wake your family, the door swung open, and there you stood, bathed in the soft glow of the porch light. For a fleeting moment, Elvis was struck by the sight of you, how pretty you looked in the pale light.

You wanted to be angry with him, you wanted to give him the silent treatment and make him work for forgiveness but the second you saw his beautiful face, you couldn’t help but smile. Without a word, you stepped out onto the porch, closing the door softly behind you. Elvis met your gaze, his expression filled with remorse.

He opened your door for you, making his way around to the driver’s side once you were in. You looked over at him as he sat, his eyes already on you.

“I'm sorry, baby,” he says, his voice low and sincere, “don’t ever run away on me like that to me again.”

You turn to face him, your expression softening. “Don't ever make me feel like I have to,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I won't,” he promises, reaching out to take your hand, his lips grazing over your knuckles. “I swear.”

You can see the sincerity in his eyes, and you can't help but believe him, even if it might be against your better judgment. You lean over and press your lips to his, feeling the tension between you start to dissipate. You glance down, noticing the way his muscles tense under his shirt. You missed him. You really did. You’d never tell him that, though.

Without a word, you climbed onto his lap, straddling him as you deepened the kiss. His sucks in a surprised breath at your unexpected movement. You can feel his erection grow as you kiss him, the size of him putting pressure on your clit. You waste no time in releasing his cock from his pants, a silent invitation that he eagerly accepted as he deftly maneuvered your panties aside, his fingers tracing patterns of anticipation along the delicate curve of your thigh. You push his hand out the way, gently lowering yourself down onto him, your jaw hung open at the feeling.

A guttural groan escaped his lips as you bottomed out, the raw intensity of the moment leaving you both reeling. You began to move, a steady rhythm building between you as the car filled with the heady scent of arousal, the windows fogging over with the heat of you both. Elvis' hands roam over your body, touching you wherever he could as he whispered apologies and words of love.

He attempted to guide you to move up and down instead of back and forth, you took the hint, earning a series of raspy grunts from him. You could feel the tension building between you, the pleasure mounting higher and higher. As you rode him, you felt yourself getting closer to the edge. Elvis sensed it too, because his fingers found your clit, rubbing quick circles that sent you spiraling over the edge.

You cried out as you came, your orgasm rippling through you like a shockwave. You wrapped your arms around his neck, needing something to hold onto as you lost control of your body. Your orgasm coated his cock with more wetness, “I’ve got you,” he murmured, still thrusting himself up into you. Elvis followed you over the edge, groaning as he filled you with his release.

As you come down from your high, Elvis chuckles, looking towards the window.

“Makeup sex right outside your parents' window, who are you and what have you done with my girlfriend?” He teased, lightly squeezing your ass.

You playfully punched him in the chest, shushing him as you tried to catch your breath. “Be quiet,” you whispered, blush colouring your cheeks.

Elvis grinned, pulling you close for a kiss. “I love you,” he says, his voice soft. He reaches his fingertip to the condensation on the window, drawing half a heart.

You smiled, reaching your hand over to finish the other half. “I love you too,” you say, leaning in to press a kiss to his lips.

You reluctantly pulled yourself off of Elvis' lap. He quickly adjusted his pants, tucking himself away before pulling off his jacket, wrapping it around you to keep you warm for the drive home.

“Let's get you home,” he said, his voice soft. He started the car, pulling away from the curb as you settled into the passenger seat. He rested his left hand on the steering wheel as he drove, his right arm wrapped around you holding you close to him. You leant into his body, feeling his warmth against you. You giggled, still feeling the aftershocks of earlier orgasm. He must’ve somehow known, because he leant down to press a kiss to your head.

“My girl,” he whispered. As you continued along the quiet road, the weight of the day and the events of the week began to catch up with you, exhaustion settling heavy upon your shoulders.

Elvis sensed your weariness, his arm tightening around you as he pulled you closer, cocooning you in the safety of his embrace. “You can sleep,” he whispered, “I’ve got you.”

You smiled, feeling the warmth of his words spread through you. You let yourself drift off, feeling safe and loved in his arms.

When you finally arrived back at his house, Elvis woke you gently, his touch a gentle caress against your skin as he guided you inside, still wrapped in his jacket. With his help, you changed into one of your nighties.

You brushed your teeth together, your eyes meeting, making you laugh in the mirror as you both rinsed.

As you climbed into bed, Elvis pulled you close, wrapping his arms around you. “I'm never letting you go again,” he whispered, his breath warm against your ear.

“I’ll hold you to that,” you say, snuggling closer to him, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat a comforting lullaby as you drifted off to sleep, finally back in his.

[marshedmallowes]

Like anything miles 1610. I feel like everyone is writing for miles 42 and forgetting about the og!

midnight cravings - miles morales

SUMMARY: texts at 3am + a mcdonalds notif = a recipe for chaos

WORD COUNT: 561

A/N: i love midnight snacking. mcdonalds always hits harder at 2 in the morning! also sorry i keep writing miles in like situations where he isnt usually 100% Himself (sleepy, sick) so um,.. i will get to a proper one soon

WARNINGS: nothing seriously bad just fluff, food i guess, reader doesn't know miles is spiderman, reader is highkey a simp

"Ugh..." You wake up with a groan, rubbing your eyes and assessing your surroundings. Noticing the still-dark environment surrounding you, you reach out for your phone which was on the bedside table.

2:42 AM. The phone lights blare onto your face, causing you to squint. As you scroll through your notifications, two catch your eye— a text bubble from Miles sent a few minutes ago, and a promo from McDonalds for their new meal.

Miles’ message was rather cryptic, and a normal person wouldn’t understand what “ruawkkekkrkx” meant. But a few months of these kind of typos (which meant Miles was either on patrol or barely awake), and one learns the language.

On the other hand, the McDonalds notif… if it was a propaganda technique, it was definitely working on you. You click on the advertisement, and damn did that chicken burger look good���

You decide to go back to Miles’ text. After opening the app and keyboard, your fingers feel too heavy to type… so you tap on the call button instead.

After exactly three rings, he picks up; in place of his normally spunky voice was a low, raspy one.

“Hey. You good? What’s with the random call?” Damn, his voice was unintentionally sultry as hell. Would it be weird if you started screen recording? He wouldn't know, right?

Ahem. Anyway.

"Oh, I'm fine, a little hungry though. I just didn't wanna type. Um, nice voice by the way." You hear a chuckle through the screen.

"So, you hungry? I mean, I could like, get you a snack or whatever."

"It is literally 3 in the morning right now." Though you expressed disapproval at what he said, your facial muscles tugged into a smile.

"Whatchu want?"

One link to a McDonalds meal later, you're patiently waiting in a now dimly lit room, phone in hand and still in bed. You decide to watch a show while waiting.

You're midway through your show, engrossed in a particular fight scene when you hear your window open with a click. Your fight or flight senses kick in, and you jump out of your bed and grab your phone and lamp (it's the nearest weapon, so...).

You watch as a dark figure comes out of the window in fear, you are ready to swing your lamp and dial your nearest police station when the figure raises both their hands in the air, to signify peace...?

The person pulls up their mask to show their face, one that you'd instantly recognize anywhere.

"Miles!"

You drop everything and sprint to his arms— literally nothing, not even a meteor, could stop you at that moment from wrapping yourself around his lean figure. Miles places his hands on your back, and the two of you relish in each other's presence.

You wish the two of you could stay like that forever, but the enticing smell of a chicken burger and drink eventually draw your attention towards it and you pull away from him.

"Can we talk about how the hell you got to my window with me living in the 21st floor? I seriously thought that the moment you clicked open the window was going to be my last for a few seconds."

Miles smiles and slightly bites his lips, and God forbid the kinds of things you would do for this man.

"Maybe over a chicken burger?"

a/n: to be completely honest i cringed so hard typing this fanfic but i just need to finish it so i hope none of you umm.. feel what im feeling rn at my own writing...

[neoarchipelago]

And they were roommates (part 4)

A/N: AWOOP Jumpscare damn this one's long.... Please don't get used to this super quick upload because i am currently sick and away from work that's why i just spend my days writing. It'll be slightly slower next week.

Warnings: 18+ stuff, violence blood, the usuals. We're all traumatised in so many and different ways.

ALSO: don't hesitate to send headcanons, tropes, to help keep this series going.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

You were pacing around the living room, much to Alejandro and Gaz's demise. It had been a full hour and half since you got home and you had zero news. The anxiety was eating at you. 

"Sparrow please breathe, let us take care of your lip…" Gaz tried for what must have been the 6th time. 

You just kept pacing. What happened? Where were they?. 

"God damn it!" You cursed.

Stopping in front of the kitchen sink you stared at the black mug. Did he get into trouble? What if he got suspended? 

The front door opening made you jump. Alejandro stood from the couch Gaz standing on guard nearby. 

Soap and price were the first to walk in. Ghost followed, balaclava and hood on. He was tense, you could see it. You wanted to get to him but not in front of everyone. You knew he wouldn't like it. 

"So?" Alejandro asked. 

"Laswell was informed of the situation. Keller was suspended until further investigation." Price answered. 

You let out a shaky breath. That asshole fully deserved it. But… ghost… 

"What about the lieutenant?" Gaz asked. 

You mentally thanked him for asking, the words too hard to speak out loud for you. 

"He'll be fine." Price answered with a smirk. 

You looked at ghost. He was staring right at you, you sighed in relief. He noticed. 

"Laswell fully understood the situation. She even congratulated and thanked him." Price said with a chuckle. 

Of course she did. Laswell was the one to find you years ago. To take you under her wing and protect you. You had become like a daughter for her. 

Ghost finally stepped forward straight towards you. His large hand grabbed your chin softly. 

"Why isn't this treated?" 

You could still feel the bite of anger tainting his tone. 

"Hum…" Gaz started. 

"I didn't let them. I was worried. It's been over an hour! Plus. It's just a scratch." You interrupted. 

You crossed your arms over your chest once more, defying him. What the hell? Who cared about the little scratch. You could clearly see his bloody knuckles. He stiffened. 

"Don't test me." He threatened. 

You pouted. The men in the room now feeling slightly out of place. 

"Well. On that note. We'll leave you to it." Price spoke. 

The boys started to walk out, Ghost not letting you out of his sight. You walked them to the door. Thanking them. Price turned to you. 

"Try not to get him to worked up… you'd be playing with fire…" he hushed only to you. 

You were confused. He seemed to be serious but the wink he sent your way suggested otherwise. 

Once the door was closed you turned back to the living room. Ghost sat on the couch back to you. You decided to walk to the counter, following Price's advice. 

"Come here." He ordered. 

You sighed. Walking up the couch, you didn't get time to sit down before he stood up. 

"Why?" He asked. 

You frowned. 

"Why what?" You asked. 

"Why didn't you tell me?" He hissed. 

You rolled your eyes, suddenly feeling all the pain again. The way he left. The way he told you you weren't friends. The way he didn't care. 

"Don't roll your eyes at me." He warned. 

You crossed your arms again. 

"Don't give me orders." You tried. He stepped closer. 

"Why. Didn't. You. Tell. Me?" He asked again. 

"Because you didn't care!" You half yelled. 

You both stood there silently. You could feel yourself wanting to cry again. Feeling the tears threatening to fall, you turned around, trying to run from this staring match. 

His hand rushed to your stomach pulling you back unto him. You gasped. His arms surrounded you. Softly. Too scared to actually hold you. You let your hands rest on his forearms. 

"Ghost…" he squeezed a tiny bit harder. His chin rested at the crook of your neck, his breath tickling you. You bit your lip. Drawing more blood from it. With a whimper you spun around in his arms, hugging his torso tightly. He was obviously not used to it. He was probably mortified with himself to have even initiated it. He still didn't move. One of his hands rested on your back, the other had traveled to the back of your neck. 

"I care." He whispered. You closed your eyes at the sound. 

"I care." He repeated, as if finally allowing himself to realize it. 

"I can't lose anyone else during Christmas…" 

You were confused at the confession, but didn't push it. You hugged him tighter. 

"You didn't. I'm fine. You saved me."  You tried reassuring him. 

"He hurt you." You couldn't miss the fury in his voice. 

"And you made him pay" you chuckled. 

He didn't seem to find it funny. His heart was slamming against his chest. 

"I'm safe. You saved me." You tried one last time. 

You remained in the hug a little bit. 

"I'm… sorry." You heard him. 

You hummed questioningly. 

"We are friends. I care. You matter." 

The words went straight to your chest. He cared. 

"You matter too Ghost." You admitted. 

He softly let go of you. His eyes looked tired. Sad. His thumb reached over your lip again. 

"Let's take care of this." 

You nodded. Grabbing his hand in yours.

"Only if you let me take care of this." You argued, mentioning his bruised knuckles. 

He nodded. You smiled at him through tears. His hand rose, patting your head softly. 

One thought lingered on your mind. He cared.

--

The next morning you woke up feeling sore. Last night Ghost had insisted on taking care of every single bruise you had.

"It's no-thing leave-it." You complained, punctuating every syllable. 

You tried to get away from his grip. Seriously, the little bruise on your knee wasn't even caused by Keller. 

"Keep moving and I'm handcuffing you." He warned. 

"You wouldn't!" You stared at him. 

The blank stares spoke volumes. He definitely would.

 

You sighed at the memory. He had given you pain meds. It was now almost 11 am. You probably would have slept longer if it wasn't for the bickering coming from the living room. You rose from the bed, you looked around, searching for your baggy shirt or t-shirt but couldn't find it anywhere. Did he… no. He wouldn't. He couldn't have. 

He totally did. You sighed. Fine. You threw on a pajama shirt. Rummaging through your closet you found some pajama shorts. You walked to the door, stepping out and walking into the living room. You blinked. For a second you thought you might be dreaming. 

The boys turned to you. The blinking lights reflecting around. The tree standing tall in the corner. 

"Good morning sleeping beauty." Alejandro said. 

"Sorry we didn't wait for you to put up the Christmas tree." Soap added. 

"It was supposed to be a surprise but soap can't shut up." Gaz teased. 

"What do you mean?! You've been yelling about the fucking colors all morning." Soap complained. 

You stood there in shock. The whole living room had been decorated for Christmas. And… was that the smell of gingerbread? While the boys were bickering you looked at Ghost. Your breath caught in your lungs. He was wearing a black t-shirt, a very nice contrast from the usual hoodies or tactical shirts. 

He was eyeing you angrily. Ah. Yes. The shorts. He glanced away and you followed his gaze. He was right. Alejandro seemed to enjoy the sight before him. He winked at you. Oh god. 

Ghost rose from where he sat, and you immediately walked up to him. 

"Ghost!"  You whispered to him, one hand on his chest the other on his forearm. The skin to skin contact sent a shiver down your spine. 

"Stop fucking playing." He whispered back. 

"You said you weren't jealous.." you teased in a whisper, batting your lashes at him. 

"Last warning. He keeps glancing at you." He warned. 

"He's not going to hurt me. You know that."

He quietly looked down at you.

"It's just shorts. Calm down." 

He frowned. 

"Fine." He spat. 

You smiled up at him. Your palm still on his chest. Something flashed through his eyes but you weren't exactly sure what. 

"Ghost… did you hide my baggy shirts?" You questioned. He remained silent simply staring at you. 

"Sparrow! Come help!" Soap called. 

Letting your hands drop you whispered one last thing. 

"Thank you… for Christmas." 

He nodded. You took a step back heading for the tree. His eyes didn't leave you all afternoon. He stood close all the time. Alejandro was flirty but from far away which seemed to be a safe distance from the big scary dog next to you. 

___

Christmas was wonderful. The boys had stayed over, sleeping on the couch and ground. First you were worried but Price had quickly washed your fears away. 

"Don't worry they've slept in much worse conditions." He chuckled. 

It was almost new year. Price and Ghost had been spending a lot of time on base, probably dealing with the Keller problem. As such, Gaz soap and Alejandro had been spending almost every day at the apartment. Somehow it had turned into a frat house, much to Ghost's dismay. 

You had been so happy to mend things with Ghost. But you missed him. Your cheeks heated up at the thought. It was hard to admit and you surely wouldn't say it out loud. Spending time with the boys was fun but you missed the alone time with your roommate. 

On this late evening, you had dined with the boys. You were thankful for Alejandro's cooking skills. Price and Ghost were out. And you were bored. Honestly. You were slightly pouting. 

"Hey guys, want to play something?" Soap asked, picking Gaz's interest. 

"Oh yeah yeah, we got that card game remember?" Gaz proposed. 

"Absolutely! We should turn it into a drinking game." Soap added. 

"I'm in." Alejandro rang. 

They turned to you. A drinking game… well. You really were bored. 

"Ok, sure." You said. 

What could go wrong? 

Every possible thing that could go wrong, went wrong. Everyone was drunk, slurring on their words, the living room was a mess. The boys had lost their shirts, Gaz had a drawn mustache over his lips, Soap had heavy makeup on and Alejandro tape over his mouth. You had ended up wearing Alejandro's shirt with nothing but underwear under. It was big enough to reach your thighs. 

Your mind was blurry. The few shots of tequila, vodka and whiskey mixing your thoughts together in an impossible tangle. 

"And that's another one for me!" Soap yelled, smashing his card on the table. 

Everyone groaned ready to take another shot. You were unsure of the current time. The alcohol in your body made you slightly irrational. You missed Ghost. Why wasn't he home yet? You were pissed at him. The liquor burned your throat as you swallowed. You had fully accepted to wear Alejandro's shirt after your 7th shot, just to mess with the lieutenant. 

Next round, won by Gaz, turned into a debate on whether or not he had cheated, Alejandro somehow losing the tape over his mouth in the process, sticking it to his chest. 

You were annoyed. Where was Ghost? You wanted Ghost… 

Pouring another shot, the game not being an excuse to down your drink anymore. 

"What the hell is going on?!" 

Everyone turned at the sound of Price's voice. 

"Dad!" You yelled, a silly smile on your face. 

Alejandro, Gaz and Soap burst out laughing. Price himself chuckled. 

"Oh god. Little bird I'm flattered. We shouldn't have left you alone with these menaces." He said. 

You noticed Ghost had his gaze fixated on you. You changed your expression to a pout. 

"Why you'home so late?" You asked with a frown. 

"You meanie!" 

The comment made the boys burst out laughing again, Price indulging himself in laughter as well. 

Ghost hadn't said a word yet. That wasn't nice…  It pissed you off even more. He stepped closer. 

"No!" You said. Making him stop in his tracks.

"Sparrow. You need to go to bed." He finally said. 

"No! I wan'n play!" You pouted more. 

He sighed, looking at Price. 

"Sparrow listen to him. The boys are also going to sleep. Look, Gaz is already out." 

You glanced back, Gaz had indeed tapped out he laid on the ground, mouth slightly open. 

You frowned. Pussy. 

Ghost had used that moment of inadvertence to get closer. Unfortunately for him, you noticed, crawling under the coffee table to the other side, shielding you from him as you slurred another 'no!' at him. 

Soap couldn't stop laughing. Holding his stomach. 

"Fuckin hell." Ghost cursed. 

Price walked to Soap grabbing him, throwing his arm over his shoulders. 

"Come on Sergeant, let's get you to bed." He smiled. 

"Put him in the room on the right." Ghost said. 

Wait.. that.. was… your room. You grabbed a pillow and threw it at him. He grabbed it before it could hit him, sending a dark glance at you. Soap had burst out laughing again, Alejandro joining him. 

"I already told you. Pillows are not. A good weapon." He hissed. 

He froze. Frowning. 

"What are you wearing?" His voice had lowered a few octaves. 

"My shirt…" Alejandro answered in between laughs. 

God.. he looked furious. It sent a shiver down your spine. And it made you want to play with fire soooo much more. 

"It looks-good on'me.. doesn'init?" You smiled innocently at him. 

"It makes you angwy…'' you teased with a pout. "Mayyybee, sshould take'it off…" you said, adding actions to words as you crossed your arms grabbing the hem of the shirt, ready to lift it over your head. What were you doing? If only that question ran through your head at that moment maybe, just maybe you had behaved. Unfortunately the only thing in your mind was how pissed you were at him for coming home so late. Therefore a stupid reason to any rational thinking person, which you currently were not. 

As the shirt raised, showing your panties as you sat on your legs on the ground Ghost snapped. 

"SPARROW" He yelled, grabbing the coffee table with one hand, lifting and pushing it aside as if it was nothing, freeing the way to you. 

It made you stop dead in your tracks. Shutting up Soap and Alejandro, waking up Gaz in the process. Price kept a close look at the situation.

You looked at him with wide eyes. He took a deep breath, squatting down in front of you slowly as if to not scare a little wild animal. 

"Little bunny…" he started. 

It made you melt. The fucker. He knew how to tame you. You let go of the shirt letting your hands drop to the floor in front of you, in between your legs. 

"You've drank a bit too much because of these… idiots." He hissed the last word. 

"I drank becaus m'missed you…" you admitted pouting. 

A 'whooo' was heard in the far back, probably coming from Soap. With a simple glance from Ghost he shut up. 

"Alright little bunny. I'm sorry. You want to be a good girl? You want to come see me?" He said, in a deep and… very sexy… voice. 

Your mind was a complete fog. You wanted to be a good girl… you wanted to be his good girl… 

Wait.. what?

If you could see yourself in a mirror and if you weren't so intoxicated, you would have understood the meaning of heart eyes. Ghost swallowed. It wasn't at all the look of pure adoration at his words that made him react like that… that made him stare at you like… you were his prey. 

"I .. I wann'be a good girl…" you said in a whiny voice. 

You thought you heard groans from every drunk man in the room. But your attention was fully fixed on the man with a skull mask in front of you. 

Fuck. Why was it so hard to think? You felt so hot. The alcohol completely erasing your inhibition. 

"Come here little bunny." He ordered. 

Crawling on all fours to him you sat right in front of him looking up. Price had continued his way to drop Soap on your bed, coming back to grab Gaz. 

"Imm sorry…" you said. 

He sighed. 

"You're a lightweight." He said. 

You nodded. 

"Can I have my shirt back?" Alejandro interrupted. 

Ghost glanced at him. Muscles flexing. You turned to see what was making him so angry. Alejandro eyed you hungrily. Perhaps enjoying a bit too much the sight before him. You, on your knees, wearing his shirt. 

"Sure." Ghost answered. 

You blinked. He dropped to his knees, shifting closer to you as you now sat in between his knees. Softly grabbing the hem of the shirt, eyeing you to ask permission. You bit your lip, still glancing at him adoringly. He was mad. You wanted him to stop being mad. He lifted the shirt over your head, the cold hair giving you goosebumps. Or maybe it was the way his fingertips touched your skin. I mean, who knows? He threw Alejandro's shirt to his face. 

He grabbed his own hoodie, throwing it over his head. You looked at his torso. You bit your lip again. God… he was hot. The scars… the way he was toned. His tattoos. Fuck. No. No. Wait. He's your roommate. You.. you can't…

He threw his hoodie over you, making you wear it. His scent was overwhelming, it made you close your eyes. The warmth of it, as he had been wearing it made you hum happily. 

You were so focused that you didn't hear the conversation they were having. 

"Why so angry lieutenant?" Alejandro, taunted with a smirk. 

"The fuck you playin at Vargas?" He asked, anger biting at his words. 

"What? She's pretty. Adorable. Hot." He listed. Ghost grew furious by the second. 

"Stay the fuck away." Ghost threatened.

"What? She's yours? You feel possessive just because she's your roomie? Maybe she wants me" He frowned with a malicious smirk. 

Ghost chuckled darkly. Turning to you, suddenly gaining your attention. 

"Little bird… you missed me?" He asked. 

"Yes sir…" you answered sweetly. 

"Now… I should apologize for that." He flirted. 

Wait… flirted…? Your mind was too fucked to pick it up. 

"You want to sleep in my bed? Wanna cuddle with your lieutenant ?" He asked. 

Your eyes would sparkle if they could. 

"Yes please sir" you whined. 

Alejandro cleared his throat. But somehow Ghost didn't stop. His fingers rose to your chin. What was he doing? Was this supposed to prove something? Were any of you serious? Was it just for show? Were you willingly rolling with his taunts?  

He eyed you down. Voice deep and groaning. 

"You my bunny? You're mine?" He asked, almost growling the last word. 

You leant forward hands on his torso, letting your head fall into his shoulder. 

"M'yours… m'your bunny…" you whined. 

You felt so much affection at the moment for this man. His little pet name made your head spin.

That and the tequila.

Suddenly you were off the floor, being carried bridal style by him. You completely gave up on picking up anything about reality. You just let him take you to bed. You passed by Price in the hallway.

"The other two are dead asleep." He informed. 

"Good. Now please get Vargas out." Ghost answered. 

"He's too drunk to go anywhere. But I'll sleep in the living room with him. Whatever's going on shouldn't fuck up your work together." Price stated.  A little silence. You hugged his neck tighter. Making Price chuckle. 

"I think you can take care of her." Price teased, taping him on the shoulder before heading to the living room.

"Come on Vargas. Let's go to bed." 

You chuckled into Ghost's neck as you heard Price. Ghost walked into his room, kicking the door shut behind him. He softly dropped you on top of his bed, standing up to look down at you. He sighed. 

"You shouldn't drink this much Sparrow." He scolded. 

You pouted. 

"It's bunny." You frowned. 

He chuckled. 

"You're going to be so embarrassed tomorrow morning." He teased. 

"Probably…" you slurred. 

"You… really missed me?" He asked in a low voice. 

You hummed affirmatively, suddenly hugging his pillow, eyelids heavy. 

"Miss spending time… miss playing… eating…" you listed. 

He chuckled. 

"I'm sorry. I'll spend more time with you." He promised. 

You smiled up at him. 

"Fuuuck.." he cursed under his breath. "Vargas's right. You're fucking adorable." He whispered, more to himself than your ears. 

You chuckled. Finger curling, beckoning him to lower himself to you. He leaned forwards, hands resting on either side of your body. You softly grabbed his face in between your hands, leaning in, his eyes widening. At the last moment you shifted, dropping a kiss on the skull mask, where his forehead would be. 

"M'your bunny…" was the last thing you could say before sleep took you.

__ 

The next morning was rough. You had a pounding headache and you were nauseous. It took a good minute before you opened your eyes, blinking to adjust to your surroundings. You weren't in your room. And… that. Was Ghost sleeping next to you? Wait. Was that his hoodie on you?  You remembered your little plan yesterday to piss him off by wearing Alejandro's t-shirt. 

The memories hit you like a truck. You on all fours, Ghost undressing you, calling you bunny. Flirting with you. The staring match between the two men… CALLING PRICE DAD. 

You cursed loudly, hands hiding your face. 

"You ok ?" 

You jumped, turning your head to look at Ghost. 

"I.." you didn't know what to say. You bit your lip. 

"Try, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to cause such a mess." He teased. 

You closed your eyes. "I'm sorry…" you mumbled. 

The air was tense. The memories felt a bit bitter. They were marked by alcohol and adrenaline from the moment. Were they real? This feelings? This affection towards one another? It was strong. It was abrupt to say it was love. He was still weary of you. And you were still confused. The doubt of his sincerity last night weighed on you. 

He was teasing Alejandro… but did he mean any of it? He figured you like praises and he used it to get you to bed. You weren't mad at him for it. You had acted like a brat. 

You were safe with the squad you were sure of it. None would take advantage of you, but you still put yourself in some kind of danger. You just hoped he wasn't mad. 

The fear of having ruined your established relationship, whatever it was, probably friends, smacked you hard. 

"We're… still friends. Right?" You asked. 

"Why wouldn't we be?" He answered, soothing your worries. 

"Are you mad..?" 

"Negative."

"Promise?" 

"Affirmative." 

"This is going to feel weird… isn't it?" 

"For a little bit. But we'll get over it." 

You sighed. Would you? Would you both get over it? The way you looked at each other. The way his fingertips felt… the way he called you his bunny. His possessiveness over you, when.. you're just friends. Roommates. 

You couldn't handle this. You couldn't handle being this tense around him. You jumped, turning over on your stomach, letting yourself rest on your elbows looking at him. He was staring right at you. 

"We're pretty close." You started. He nodded. 

"We care about each other." He kept nodding. 

"You… called me your bunny." You tested. 

"I did. You like it." He noted. 

"I do… I like it and…" you were confused.

"Sparrow. Stop. You're overthinking this. We're fine." He said, slight annoyance in his voice. You smiled. He was still himself. 

"Give me back my hoodie now." He requested.

"No."

---

@lemontails @cabreezer0117 @tomhardy411 @brxghtixghtz @shuttlelauncher81 @pinkdazelight @sirenbunnylol @snortangeldust @novausstuff @gasstationfifacard @emotion-not-hot-yes-hotel-trivago @simpforavillain @minimisthios @catied32 @poohkie90 @watermaylon-writes @thereealink @meimhem @sorryi-mtrash @gaymistakeboii @bittersw33t-lotus @gh0stm3g @freckledmuffin @itsasecrets-things @xback1021 @connierk690 @feedthefandoms995 @friendlyneighboorhoodgothicpagan @dead-noodles @friendly-reject @critter-mylo @honeymariee @badame0224 @kitty-satan1 @all-good-things-have-an-ending @tianotfound @thriving-n-jiving @hailstrum18 @kiruoris @thats-s0-ravenn @orcasarebigbabies @makastaco @abajointrossyearl @kaylynninice24 @cated18 @swg141 @ghost-2513

[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 ©

[aachria]

Okay so this is extremely irrelevant, like you don’t even have to respond. But I got my bf completely hooked on this fic and he loves it so much. We literally have a sleepover every Sunday, stay up for the update and take turns reading the latest chapter aloud like a bedtime story.

His friend called me the other day, full on geeking out over the sick as fuck upgrades on Ed’s guns. Turns out my bf talked about it so much his mates decided to read it. I used to be terrified of them (they’re all around 6 foot, muscley ash, footy players) until they invited me to a hangout to chill and talk about SSSBMTY, they even had a wall of theories, busted out some red string and everything.

I didn’t even know they watched one piece, I’m pretty sure some of them had never even heard of it before this.

So congratulations, you have successfully infiltrated a group of popular college boys from Australia.

Genuinely I’m so thankful for you and your writing. Idgaf how stupid it sounds but I’ve made friends and my relationship is genuinely better off because of it.

Bae idk how you do this but if you ever get sad just remember there’s a bunch of big ass NRL players on the other side of the world who idolise you.

Srsly you’ve converted them all, one dude just emailed me his fucking ZOSAN COFFEE SHOP AU to proofread. Keep in mind this is an extremely straight, one piece dude bro. I have to teach him about paragraph breaks but it’s very sweet.

Sorry this is so long lmao.

Ok first that's fucking adorable couple activities and I am jealous beyond belief. More than that I'm fucking ELATED you have people to bond with over this fic, words fail to describe how damn happy it makes me to hear about the people who read my work connecting with each other irl. Whether it's you chucklefucks somehow managing to find each other in the wild or infecting people with SSSBMTY like a virus, I just fucking adore you.

I am my own target audience when I write so the fact this fuckin' thing is so far reaching BOGGLES MY MIND. I would give nearly ANYTHING to see this red string theory wall you have no IDEA—

The shot of straight crack to my god complex knowing a bunch of tall buff NRL players think I'm cool is immeasurable and insane. I have a confidence high that will last until I'm dead. I don't know if I'll be recovering from this one, emotionally.

TELL HIM TO DROP THE ZOSAN COFFE SHOP AU WITH PARAGRAPH BREAKS AND MY LIFE IS YOURS—

[physics-of-one-piece]

I am done bottling up this story, I gotta talk about it bcs I'm so happy with it, I'm obsessed with it.

So that Rosinante x Reader x Doflamingo fic where Reader is Rosinante's wife is called...

Drums pls

🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁

I’ll build castles for you, my love (look at me, not my brother)

Part 1 is all about Rosinante x Reader (& Law my bby boy 🥹🥺), Part 2 which is all about Doflamingo x Reader might turn into another part cus I want to cover the pre-baby and then post-baby and I don't think with all the ideas I have one part will be enough.

I like to call this fic “Doflamingo takes Rosinante's wife and baby as his own because he is the older one and Rosinante is dead anyway but damn what a sick thing to do but also really fits Doffy, good luck, girl, you're stuck with the terrible brother” or “Doflamingo trauma dumps to Reader and attempts to gaslight Reader”

The amount of times I said "THIS PINK BITCH 😡😡🤬🤬" while writing Part 2 is INSANE. HOLY FUCK HE DESERVES TO BE THROWN INTO THE SEA. LET THE SEA KINGS EAT HIM, HOLY FUCK THIS PINK BASTARD.

Anyway, here is a snippet of one of the scenes 😊

“You know, Tsuru-san…” said Doflamingo casually as he strutted to the window, grabbing his large pink feather coat from the hanger, swinging it over his broad shoulders as he went. He placed his right foot atop the windowsill; the sound of his shoe landing on it resounded in your ears ominously.  With the saw-like, terrible sound of his strings, he pulled open the window, letting in the fresh spring breeze. You smelled the cherry blossoms in the distance. He turned from the window toward Vice Admiral Tsuru, a large grin on his face. “One day I’ll be the one kicking you marines out,” said Doflamingo darkly, smiling at Tsuru, the expression sharp and promising. Vice Admiral Tsuru looked incredibly bored by the implication. “You don’t have that kind of power, even as a warlord.” said Tsuru, staring back at him, unafraid. “We’ll see, dear Tsuru,” mused Doflamingo, chuckling, offering another unnerving smile before saying, “After all, what can a marine do against a god?” Your blood ran cold. You felt your stomach clench in fear. Despite his eyes being concealed behind his sunglasses, you felt his gaze shift to you at the same time as he turned to face you, and you fought back a shiver. “See you next weekend, querida.” said Doflamingo, and smiled at you. The curl of his lips was soft, the grin of pearly white teeth charming and pleasant, the dimples on his cheeks more gentle than the ones present in the smile he’d aimed at Vice Admiral Tsuru.  Even his deep voice sounded impossibly softer. Doflamingo didn’t look frightening in that moment at all. He looked quite charming and handsome, like some divine being offering you the rarest of blessings. You decided not to think about the fact you could now read his emotions by his smiles. In a flutter of pink feathers, Doflamingo leapt off of your windowsill. You saw the gleam of his strings in the sunlight as he unwound them from his fingers, attaching them to the clouds, using them to soar forward over the bay of Marineford, the blur of his pink figure reflected on the surface of the sea. After glancing down at it, you realised the bracelet of white-pink pearls Doflamingo had crafted you had the exact same pearls as the necklace of red pearls he wore around his neck. You watched the pink little cloud of Doflamingo grow farther and farther away, becoming smaller and smaller against the canvas of endless blue. You stepped away from the window, and hoped the sky next weekend would be cloudless.  A woman can hope.

The Doffy smile that flashes across my mind for the scene where he says bye is the one from this manga panel:

Taglist: @fanaticsnail

[ladyluscinia]

I'm already so sick of how the fallout of ofmd season 2 has snowballed into people on here going "fandom these days just can't handle Bad Things happening in media-- newsflash, characters have to get hurt and die, grow up!" all condescending like. First of all, in the context of Izzy, most people I've seen discuss his death agree that they would've accepted and enjoyed his death if it had just been handled appropriately, and also. "You just can't handle bad things happening to your fave!" Bruh. We were all partying it up when Izzy lost his fucking leg and was suffering physically and mentally. It can be FUN to see your blorbo suffer!

And that is just one example of a larger trend on this site-- people are really gonna come onto the "we love putting our blorbos in the blender and watching them struggle and suffer" site and say "kids these days can't handle Bad Things happening to their blorbos." Sorry, but that's just nonsense. Fandom loves their fix-its, but they also love shattering their faves. The problem has never been Bad Things happening in general, but HOW those things are framed within the narrative and how that narrative is told. The problem is when something is out of place in its genre, or when it goes against a promise the show has made, or when suffering is used flippantly and uncaringly, or when a character suffers and suffers and then just when they've finally caught a break, they're kicked down again, just for a cheap tug at your heartstrings.

Both within the context of ofmd AND in a wider fandom context, fandoms LOVE when our blorbos are hurt, as long as our blorbos are hurt RIGHT.

... And I think it sure is Something that a fandom can have a rampant issue with fans of a character being harassed and sent death threats and that's just "normal fandom being fandom" but god forbid people feel Emotions. About a Character and a Show. And dare to react by... just Offering Criticism! No, death threats are "fandom culture that comes with the territory," but if you vent post or criticize a writing decision in media, THAT'S being "hysterical" and "overly emotional" and "truly frightening behavior!" I just LOVE (big sarcasm) how back when people were getting doxxed and threatened for liking a guy, the fandom was all *cricket noises,* but NOW suddenly everyone is "terrified and exhausted by fandom's volatility" and "concerned about the fragile mental health of fans" when you simply say "damn that episode sucked and I sure am sad about it."

The OFMD fandom was toxic as fuck for a year and a half and continued to be toxic as fuck for all the airing of S2, so hardly surprising that the aftermath of S2 appears to be... toxic as fuck.

Least surprising thing in the world is that the people who hated Izzy and passively or actively supported driving his fans out of the fandom for "ruining it for everyone else" now think his fans should leave the fandom if they are so upset and stop leveraging "baseless criticism" at the show that is "ruining it for everyone else." They have normal not-at-all-parasocial relationships leading them to directly @ David Jenkins and thank him for a season that somehow managed to be both flawless and have all its flaws blamed on MAX, but those wretched Izzy stans have horrible-evil-parasocial relationships making them harass the crew by *footage not found*

If Mr. Jenkins decides to go scroll the #ofmd s2 tag on tumblr and stumbles across me - a random blog and icon - outlining how I think he fucked his show up, that's pretty clearly on him? This is tumblr. I have no relationship with this man or obligation to tailor every word I say as if he's bound to see it and going to take it personally???

I'm actually a big proponent of "Don't @ the cast and crew about pretty much anything" because the same fandom mentality that makes you think you can randomly ask him about your headcanon like you're chatting is what all these people are melting down about if someone directly goes "hey you killed my favorite character and that makes me mad!" - same fucking people, same fucking parasocial relationship. The standard of "only @ them for good things" is the flimsiest fucking line, as any ao3 writer who has received unsolicited "constructive criticism" or "advice" can tell you.

If we want to snidely get into "what this is really about" well it's the same fucking thing it was before:

People substituting subjective opinion as objective fact with zero self-awareness of doing so. "I liked this so it's good." "I didn't like this so it's bad." "I got bad vibes from that character so he was clearly written to be horrendous and unlikable." "I sympathized with this character so anyone suggesting he has flaws is demonizing him."

Or the deepest circle of fandom hell: "I think [insert identity] rep is so important and this piece of media fits into however I personally define 'good rep', therefore it is flawless and/or morally significant enough to be above criticism."

...which, yeah, leads to temper tantrum levels of fandom infighting, especially since people online express, fairly frequently, "I didn't like it because it was bad" and then present evidence for their point. And also a lot of fandom likes bad TV. Or even just mediocre TV that's entertaining.

I personally was not going to be happy about any person beyond one-offs, blatant villains, and background randoms dying because "they had to" (for their own arc or someone else's) because I fundamentally think if you believe you've written yourself into that corner in a workplace comedy that's built around a main romance arc... you're kinda stupid. Yes, even if it's pirate themed. Enough injuries have been walked off and lampshaded to confirm that part is aesthetic.

The fandom wiki for The Office lists 11 deceased characters. Three of them are fictional characters who die in an action-movie episode. Two are one-offs that get named dropped seasons later as having died offscreen. One of them is an offscreen cat, who appears to have had a more significant death plotwise and emotionally than any of the humans, and another is a woman who literally exists as a picture someone makes up a personality for and then discovers the real woman died. The most significant character on the list is a temp boss that got a four episode story arc about being a useless idiot who died in the hospital after a basketball dunking accident.

That is a show that ran for 9 seasons and over 200 episodes. It's pretty universally regarded as good, and the cringe asshole boss getting genuinely moving emotional beats is a big part of that. I think we can maybe pretty confidently say that reflecting the random realities of death is not essential to every story.

If OFMD wants to be evaluated as a hard-hitting drama or a queer story about the struggle of piracy against the Evil Empire, I will compare it to Black Sails instead of The Office. I just don't think David Jenkins is going to enjoy that comparison.

I'm not going to lower my standards because [insert rep reason the show must absolutely be a wild success here].

[flutteringphalanges]

Reaching for the Stars

Adam Warlock x Star Lord!Sister Reader

Prompt:  When your infant daughter starts to exhibit signs of inheriting her father’s powers, you and Adam find yourselves in quite a predicament. Not to mention when your brother, Peter, finds himself caught up in it. 

Word Count: 1,509

A/N: So I decided to write another one shot involving the reader and Adam Warlock having a child together. It is the same baby mentioned in my first one shot Aydith. The baby’s name is a combination of Meredith Quill and Ayesha (Adam’s mother). Also I couldn’t decide if the reader is married to Adam or dating, so I just said “partner”. You can decide! I might do another part to this one but I am not sure. I am open to requests! I hope you enjoy!

                                 Reaching for the Stars

“Look, I’m no baby expert, but I’m pretty sure this isn’t exactly normal.”

Your heart was pounding too hard to even glare at your brother for his comment as the two of you stared up at the ceiling. You had only turned your head for a minute. A minute! And now your baby had decided that she no longer liked the ground and instead preferred floating several feet in the air where you couldn’t reach her. Thank god you were at least inside!

“Peter, do something!��� You cried out, finally looking over at your brother in desperation. Oh, you felt sick. And faint. Christ, where the hell was Adam?! “Help me get her down!”

“What am I supposed to do?!” He gestured, obviously beginning to panic as well. “I’m not Groot! I can’t just extend my arms and grab her!” Peter exhaled and began to look around. “Maybe there is something we can use in here, like a broom?”

Your jaw dropped. “You want to hit my baby with a broom?!”

Peter threw his arms up in the air in frustration. “How the HELL did you come to that conclusion?! Why in all the universes would you assume I’d want to smack my niece out of the air?!”

“I don’t know?!” And your panicking was slowly growing into hysteria. You were just getting accustomed to parenting and now your perfect baby had decided to show off her celestial talents. Dammit, where was Adam?! “Aydith, it’s okay! Mommy is right here! Don’t move!”

Unlike you and her uncle, the infant seemed as if she hadn’t a care in the world. She floated in one place, occasional flipping and offering you a two tooth smile. Her (your eye color) sparkled and she giggled down at the two of you, completely unaware of the terror she was causing you both.

“Y/N?”

Both you and Peter turned to see Adam standing in the doorway. If it hadn’t been for the severity of the situation, the way his expression of confusion switched to one of bewilderment upon seeing his child in the air would’ve been comical. You didn’t have time to enjoy the feeling of relief as you hurried over to his side.

“Our baby is flying!” You pointed as if he couldn’t clearly see the situation before him.

“I didn’t know she could do that.” He replied so innocently. Damn, you loved him so much but sometimes…

“Nor did I!” You sighed deeply, trying to regain some form of composure after losing it with Peter. “But apparently she can and now she is up there and I cannot get her down!”

“Y/N wasn’t open to any of my ideas--” Peter began to argue before you cut him off.

“Because you wanted to knock Aydith out of the air with a broom!” You hissed.

“I was going to try to hook the handle on her overalls and pull her down!” He shot back. “But you didn’t even let me finish my plan!”

You really wanted to point out Peter’s interesting history when it came to planning, but decided against it. Instead, you watched as your daughter peered down at Adam, her chubby, little arms reached out towards him. Effortlessly, your partner rose into the air and gingerly took a hold of her. The moment his feet touched the ground, the wave of relief that hit you almost brought you to your knees.

“Oh, Aydith!” At once, you scooped her from Adam’s embrace and hugged her close. “Don’t you ever do that to me again, okay?!” It was a battle to hold back tears as you held her close.

“So the kid can fly now.” Peter said as he looked at Adam. “And she isn’t even one yet. I’m gonna go out on a limb here and assume you are just as clueless as the rest of us of what else Aydith might be capable of?”

You felt Adam’s hand rest on the small of your back. Even though his eyes weren’t fixed on you, you knew he was trying to offer some comfort. You moved closer, resting your head against him as Aydith fiddled with the collar of your shirt.

“No, I’m sorry.” His eyes met yours, the look on his face hard to read. “Until I learned Y/N was pregnant, I didn’t even think it was possible for us to reproduce.”

Your daughter let out a whine, one that you had come to recognize as her needing a nap. Peter made a goofy face, trying to make her smile. He’d always been so good with her--not that you had ever doubted he wouldn’t be. Aydith looked back at him, one cheek pressed against your chest. She was tired--and if you were quite frank, so were you.

“We need to talk with the others.” Peter stated, looking from you to Adam. “Maybe come up with some sort of game plan to keep Aydith grounded until we fully understand what she is able to do.”

Your eyes flickered down to your daughter who appeared to have finally drifted off. She was so small. So little. How could someone like that do something so extraordinary, yet so terrifying at such a young age? You didn’t fear the possibilities of what she would be like if she had inherited some of her father’s powers. No. No, you worried what would happen if she did. What dangers she would face. That’s what scared you.

  “Okay.” You nodded, shifting her in your arms. You knew the other Guardians would literally drop anything any of them were doing and come to your aid if you asked. That’s what families did after all. There was an old saying you remembered that said it took a village to raise a child--in this case, that village was turning out to be Knowhere. “Let’s do it.”

                                                      XXX

Silence followed you as you and Adam walked to Aydith’s room. Peter was gone and a part of you felt guilty of not apologizing after he left. You made a mental note to do so the next time you saw him. When you reached her crib, you cautiously set her down, doing your best not to wake her. Thankfully you were successful.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N.” The sound of Adam’s voice pulled you back to reality. “I never even fathomed the idea of Aydith having my abilities. If I had known, or even considered it for that matter…” He shook his head, guilt heavy in his tone as if he blamed himself. “If there hadn’t been a roof…”

The last thing you wanted was for him to feel bad. Adam’s powers, his gifts, they were beautiful. You didn’t dare want him to think otherwise. And certainly you didn’t want him to think that he’d cursed your daughter. Reaching out, you take a hold of his hand, interlocking your fingers. Aydith was safe. That was what was important. She was in her crib before the both of you passed out. Completely and utterly lost to the world.

“You have absolutely nothing to apologize for.” You assured him, reaching up with your other hand to turn his face towards your. “Aydith is a part of you, just as she is me. And I suppose one of those parts of you involves her having some sort of special abilities.” You offered him a small smile. “Even if witnessing my child levitate in the air wasn’t what I had initially ever anticipated her doing.”

Adam squeezed your hand. “No, I cannot say I pictured her doing so either.”

You both watched her quietly, his thumb gently stroking your hand. You were still on edge, though your anxiety had lessened quite a bit since Aydith had been deemed safe. Exhaling, you catch Adam’s gaze in your own.

“We’ve got this.” And you were a little surprised how sure you sounded. “At least, we can’t afford not to be, right? After everything we’ve been through as Guardians, I think we can manage this new milestone…Or whatever you want to call this new development.”  

The corners of Adam’s mouth twitch slightly upwards at your words. “Yes, I agree with you. We haven’t let anything stop us yet.”

He dropped your hand and wound his arm around you to pull you into a kiss. You let your eyes close for a moment, melting in his embrace. It was moments like this that you cherished between the two of you. Especially after Aydith had been born and your intimate times had shifted some depending on her needs. Parenthood had surely become a whirlwind--one that you had welcomed with wide, open arms.

“I love you.” You murmured softly, pulling back just enough so that your eyes met. “Both of you.”

“And I you.” Adam replied, resting his forehead against yours. “In every universe and every dimension.” He turned away for just a second to peer over at your daughter before looking back. “We’ve got this, don’t we?”

This time, the nod you gave him felt much more confident. “Yeah,” you agreed. “We do.”

[ask-the-critters-survival-au]

So anybody feeling rather nosy today?

Well I finished Kickin’s entire diary a few weeks ago, and since Hoppy never really got the chance to read the entire thing, I thought I’d share it here!

Please note, on the following dates

November 4, 1997

March 10, 1998

September 4, 1998

Kickin does write down some s*icidal thoughts, that may be triggering to some people. I’d advise you to skip past those if they are triggering for you. I’ll mark them with bold text so you know.

Diary is under the cut! Have fun snooping!

August 26, 1995

I found this notebook by one of the kids’ beds. He didn’t use it at all so I figured it was alright to take it! Not that he is here to stop me anyways. I decided to start writing stuff in here! Just whatever I’m thinking, whenever I feel like it, I guess. Whenever I feel like it. God, that is a WEIRD sentence to say. Or write. But it’s true! It’s my life now! Whenever I feel like it! No more stupid employees here! Haha, get wrecked! Losers. Oh, Hoppy’s calling me. I’m gonna go! I’ll write in you again later! I promise! Wait, why am I promising a notebook that I’ll do something?

October 2, 1995

Okay so I kinda forgot about this thing. Oops! Anyways, I’m getting bored. The soccer ball is starting to deflate and we can’t find the pump. This SUCKS dude. Like, I get the prototype is busy doing whatever, but if he’s all powerful like he says can’t he give us some entertainment around here? Like sheesh! There’s nothing to do. I’m so bored.

October 16, 1995

I’m thinking of growing my hair out. I mean, Crafty is doing it! And it’s getting annoying constantly cutting it. It grows back really fast. Maybe I’ll go for a mullet type look! Just maybe though.

October 29, 1995

DogDay’s missing. We don’t know where he went. We tried searching for him but CatNap told us not to. It’s always what CatNap says. Stupid. I’m going to keep looking anyways. I’m gonna find him.

October 30, 1995

Never mind.

January 1, 1996

Hey, new year! It kinda sucks though. We did absolutely nothing to celebrate. Also, big problem. Bobby found out about my secret crush. Oh I hope nobody ever reads this thing. Don’t tell anybody, but I think I like-like Hoppy. She’s just so cute and pretty and funny and spunky and cool and I love it when she talks about outer space it’s so interesting!!! She’s so fast too, like crazy fast! I think she’s too fast though. She beats me at literally EVERYTHING. That’s okay though! I’m gonna keep getting better until I can win! But yeah. Bobby found out. I’m terrified for my life.

January 23 1996

So we’re starting to run out of food. Catnap said to trust in the prototype and that he’s gonna save us and stuff. I call bull. We need food, not a savior! But he said the prototype has a plan, so I guess we’ll be fine. Still though, I’m getting tired of eating moldy salami.

February 6, 1996

Crafty’s starting to lose it. She started nagging me nonstop because she keeps running out of red marker. I’m gonna avoid her from now on. Her drawings are getting weird. Really weird. Like borderline creepy stuff. She’s going bonkers man, I’m telling you.

May 16, 1996

We ran out of food. Woke up this morning to Picky scoring through the rest of our god damn supply. I swear I am going to SCREAM DUDE!! So what if she’s always hungry?! She’s not the only one who needs food to survive! Unbelievable. What the hell are we going to do now?

May 17, 1996

So that was CatNap’s back up plan. Oh my god. I don’t want to even think about what I’ve done today. I recognized him. Who I ate. He was there when I first woke up. Taking notes in the corner of the room on his clipboard. I feel sick to my stomach. How long are we going to have to do this for?

June 2, 1996

Today feels special. I don’t know why. It just does. Also I’m sorry I haven’t been writing in you as much. I’m just scared of getting caught writing in this thing. What if someone reads it? What if CatNap reads it? Will he get mad at me for what I wrote a few months ago about the prototype? Maybe I should erase it. No I can’t do that, I wrote it in marker. I’m going to keep this thing hidden inside my zipper pocket for now, until I find a better spot.

July 22, 1996

There was a freaking execution today. I’m so disturbed right now. It was one of the tiny DogDays. I’m not really sure what he did, but CatNap made us all watch as he ripped the poor guy apart. He said that’s what happens if you are a heretic. That’s what happens if you speak out even the slightest against the prototype. Bubba told me that he thought one of the other minis had tattled to CatNap about what that tiny DogDay did. That’s insane. I can’t imagine any of my friends doing that to me. Would they do that to me? No, I’m being an idiot. They’d never do that. Regardless I can’t let him find this thing. I don’t want to end up like that mini.

August 8, 1996

It’s officially been a full year since the Hour of Joy. It’s weird to think about. How many full humans have I eaten by now? Maybe eight? Ten? Twelve? Twenty? I lose count. I don’t feel anything when I eat them anymore. It’s easier to imagine them without faces. I always cut off the head so I don’t have to see it. On the bright side, we finally found the pump for the soccer ball. Hoppy and I can finally start playing again. I don’t really think either of us want to though. At least not right now.

September 12, 1996

Hoppy and I had another fight today. I’m writing in this thing because Bobby made us separate. I don’t like being mad at her. I want to apologize but I’m scared to approach her right now. I miss DogDay. I don’t write about him much but I miss him. His name is kind of forbidden to even speak nowadays. Picky thinks he abandoned us. I don’t think he did. He’d never do that. But if he did I want him to come back. Everything’s falling apart without him.

January 12, 1997

I’m sorry it’s been awhile. I don’t really know what to write about today though so I’m gonna end it off here.

February 7, 1997

Sometimes I wonder if I should name this journal something. But I’m not very creative when it comes to names. Crafty is though. She’s been really different lately though. She’s gotten really cheerful for some reason. But say the wrong thing and suddenly you’re on the ground. I’m scared of her. I don’t know what’s going on with her but if she doesn’t get that fixed soon she’s going to get herself killed. Or kill someone else. Either of the two. Maybe even both.

April 25, 1997

Nothing to write about today. I’m just not going to. I don’t feel like it. My hand hurts. I think I’m gonna go back to sleep.

June 2, 1997

It’s the weird day again. The one that feels like it should be special. I don’t know what that feeling is. I asked Bubba about it. He knows a lot, I thought he’d probably know that too. He didn’t though. He said he got that feeling too, sometimes. But neither of us knew why.

June 19, 1997

We ran out of food. I didn’t even know that was possible. There were so many humans working in this factory, how did we run out of them? The entire Playcare was in panic today. CatNap calmed us all down. He said not to worry, because the prototype always has a plan. Okay. If the prototype always has a plan, what is it? Because I’m tired of this whole stupid mess! I want to know what it is! Why can’t I know what it is? This is so dumb! The prototype is so dumb! It makes me want to tear all my feathers out!!!!

September 19, 1997

IM SO HUNGRY SO HUNGRY SO HUNGRY SO HUNGRY I DONT KNOW WHAT TO EAT THERES NOTHING I HAVENT EATEN IN SO LONG I NEED FOOD I NEED FOOD. IM HAVING THESE SCARY THOUGHTS NOW I WANT THEM GONE! I DONT WANT TO HURT ANYONE BUT I NEED TO EAT I NEED TO EAT I NEED TO

September 19, 1997

I did it. I needed to eat. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Picky told us how to find food. There’s plenty of it in the Playhouse. Like livestock, just waiting to be slaughtered. CatNap was so mad. But we have food now. And we all know he’s been eating them too. I feel like a monster. They were like us. But Bubba told me it was necessary. We were all going to die if we didn’t. I’m still sorry though.

November 4, 1997

Bubba got gassed. Badly. I’m so worried about him. We don’t even know why, we just walked in the room and there he was, laying on the ground with scratch marks all over him. How could CatNap have done such a thing? He’s sick. Just sick. I’ve been taking care of him now. I don’t want to leave his side. I’m worried that if I leave for a moment that something will happen to him. Hoppy’s been making me stay active. Sometimes she’s the only reason I keep going on. It’d be so easy just to end it all. She’s there for me though. I love her. God, I love her. I never want anything to happen to her. But I know something’s going to happen to her. That something’s going to happen to all of us eventually. When it happens to her though, it’s gonna happen to me next. I promise it will.

November 14, 1997

I found a boombox today. It’s really cool. I’ve been playing it for Bubba recently. He’s still asleep. I hope he wakes up soon. Did I ever mention in here that I like to dance? It’s really fun. It makes me forget about everything that happened. I lose myself in the movements. I don’t really even know how I know how to dance. I never learned it as a toy. I think I’m gonna go do it now though.

December 3, 1997

THAT JERK! THAT HORRIBLE STUPID DISGUSTING DUMB JERK! I HATE HER! I HATE HER I HATE HER I HATE HER! HOW DARE SHE DO THAT TO BUBBA?? WHEN HAS HE EVER BEEN ANYTHING BUT NICE TO HER???? BUT NOOOOO, I GUESS KINDNESS MEANS NOTHING IN THE EYES OF PICKY PIGGY! ALL SHE CARES ABOUT IS HERSELF AND HER APPETITE! I WOULDVE RIPPED OFF SOOO MUCH MORE THAN HER EAR IF I COULD! BUT THEN HOPPY AND BOBBY HAD TO COME IN AND RESTRAIN ME! STUPID! STUPID STUPID STUPID! IM GOING TO KILL HER WHEN I GET THE CHANCE! AND ITS GOING TO BE SLOW AND BRUTAL AND ITS GOING TO HURT!

January 1, 1998

Yay. New year. Yippee.

March 4, 1998

Something bad happened today. I knew it would happen eventually. I think we all did. Crafty finally lost it on the wrong person. She attacked CatNap and then he ripped off her hands as punishment. I could hear every. Single. Agonizing second of her screams. I thought I was used to screaming by now. I guess I was just telling myself that. I hope she survives. That was a lot of blood.

March 6, 1998

What do I do. What do I do. What do I do. Hoppy’s leaving. She just told me she is. Hoppy, Bobby and Crafty are leaving Playcare in a week. They can’t leave. They can’t. CatNap’s going to kill them. He’s going to kill them brutally. And even if he doesn’t, who knows what’s outside of Playcare? Plenty of toys who would be willing to hurt them for food. Hoppy told me to come with them. I can’t go with them. I don’t want to die. But I don’t want them to die. They can’t leave. I don’t want them to leave. But I can’t change Hoppy’s mind. She’s leaving with or without me. How could she do that to me? Just leave me here, all alone with Picky? Bubba’s still asleep. She’s the only one I’ll have to talk to. I don’t want to talk to her. I’m scared. I need to stop them.

March 8, 1998

what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done what have I done

March 9, 1998

I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m so so sorry. I messed up I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry please forgive me. I keep seeing her. She talks to me in my head now, telling me she won’t ever forgive me, no matter how much I grovel and beg. Sometimes I don’t even think it’s in my head. Am I going insane? You don’t deserve to stay sane. You’re right. I don’t. I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry.

March 10, 1998

The blood won’t come off. It stained my hands. Maybe I deserve that. You do deserve that. You’re right. You’re always right. I deserve it. I haven’t moved from my bed since it happened. I’m hungry but I don’t want to eat. I don’t deserve to eat. Bubba needs me though. At least if Picky tries eating him again there’s nobody to stop me from making her pay this time. I don’t know why I don’t just give up. I should. I made a promise that I would once Hoppy went. Maybe it’s Bubba. Or maybe I’m just making excuses. Maybe I’m just too scared. I’ve never felt so alone before. I deserve to feel alone.

March 24, 1998

I’ve been seeing her a lot lately in my dreams. Always the screaming and then the ear. And then she tells me it’s my fault. I know it’s my fault. But I still don’t understand. Am I selfish for not understanding? Yeah. Probably. But all I ever wanted to do was protect her. I don’t understand why this happened. I don’t understand. Picky’s been avoiding me. That’s fine. I don’t want to see her either.

April 12, 1998

You know what? No. I’m done. I don’t care if CatNap catches me going into the Playhouse. I need to see what’s inside. Maybe she’s inside, and that’s why we aren’t allowed in. I’m going to find her. I’m going to make things right with her. I refuse to believe she’s gone.

July 16, 1998

July. It’s already July. I took that long to recover? Seriously? That was three whole months. Well, I guess loosing an eye will do that to you. I’m still surprised that Picky took care of me while I was hurt. I tried to ask her why but she didn’t respond, so I guess that was that. That doesn’t matter though. He’s alive. He’s alive. DogDay’s alive! He’s been here this entire time, sitting right below our noses and we had no clue! If I can just figure out a way to get him out then he can save us all from this mess! I know he can! I just need to find a way.

July 20, 1998

Bubba woke up. He finally woke up! Oh my god, he finally woke up! It’s been how long, eight months? I’m so thankful. He’s really scared though. He must’ve been through hell. I know from experience the nightmares that stuff gives you aren’t pleasant. I can’t imagine going through that for a whole year. Poor guy.

July 21, 1998

Bubba’s been having trouble walking lately. His legs give out whenever he tries. I guess that makes sense. He hasn’t used his legs in a while. I wish I knew how to give him the proper treatment he needs. Actually, there’s an idea. I should check inside of the school. I’m sure there is something in there about comas.

July 22, 1998

OKAY SO THAT WAS A HORRIBLE IDEA. Not only did I find absolutely NOTHING, but I almost got my head bashed in with a freaking mace! That biology teacher has gone wack. Completely wack. Then again, she’s not the only one. I still hear Hoppy. She still visits me. I’ll be in the middle of something and then I’ll just see her. I think I’m starting to hallucinate. I know that’s really bad. But I enjoy seeing her. Even if all she does is cuss me out. It gives me hope. Hope that she’s not Never mind. I shouldn’t be thinking about that. Bury that nice and deep along with the other scary thoughts. She’s not dead. She’s not dead she’s not dead she’s not dead she’s not dead.

August 8, 1998

Third year anniversary. Or is it the fourth? I don’t feel like doing the math. Bubba can walk again now, but all he does is sit against a wall. It feels like my effort was wasted, if I’m honest. He doesn’t like eating. Or sleeping. He hates sleeping. I tried to give him some books to read that I stole from the councilors office, but he ignored them. Some days he refuses to sleep so badly to the point where I have to knock him out for him to get a little shut eye. I feel bad for him. He doesn’t deserve this. If I could take his place I would in a heartbeat. Maybe if it was me instead of him I wouldn’t have messed up so horribly.

September 4, 1998

It’s one of those days where the hallucinations are bad again. Sometimes I wonder if it even is a hallucination. Am I actually seeing her? She’s looking over my shoulder right now. Watching me write. She looks so real. And the stuff she says feels so real. I want her to be real. I want to hold her in my arms. She just told me if I ever try to do that she’s going to push me off the cloud I’m on. I think she knows I wouldn’t save myself.

September 18, 1998

Bubba’s been getting better. He’s started talking again. Only sometimes though. And he never says much. It’s a start though.

November 10, 1998

I think I just saw Picky chasing Hoppy away from the councilors office. I must’ve just been hallucinating again. She was carrying something though. It looked like a computer? I’ve never seen that before. Probably just another hallucination.

[whimsicalcotton]

Also I started getting into the namesake song of polluted marrow (Spiracle by Flower Face) and it's so good... I wanna give you the green light to ramble about how you think this song relates to the fic/the characters/etc bc I'm very curious to hear how it inspired you 😊

[cracks knuckles] Okay so,

for starters this AU is kinda old. i think i started toying w the general idea in 2016ish, and the want to write it got hardcore resurrected when i decided to watch an lis1 playthrough for the first time in fucking ages last year. i happened to find Spiracle recently after finishing up so there was already like a 60% chance i'd start associating it w lis through just that, but then i was smacked in the face specifically by this last line

so hard that i was immediately like Oh God I Need To Write That Timelooper Max AU Right The Fuck Now. (like seriously. "i want you butterfly, i want you sailor." what am i supposed to Do after hearing that if not wail over pricefield)

as a whole for me the song is about The Devotion (tm) and how Max loves every last little part of Chloe, good or bad, for better or worse, so goddamn much that she's willing to put herself through all this fucking bullshit several times over. Yearning On A Cosmic Scale kind of vibes.

but then after a few listens i Realized. that some of these lines are really good for Rachel + the admittedly unhinged amberfield dynamic i have brewing. imo Max is definitely not immune to the whole putting the idea of Rachel on a pedestal problem, but she does it Different than everyone else bc her image of Rachel is informed mostly by how important she was to Chloe. which is to say i read some of these lines in an "and i want you, too. i want every part of her and you're a part of her," sort of way.

also this one line is very Max @ both of them

and to bring it back to that last bit again, i feel like the butterfly/sailor line is pretty self-explanatory but "i am your lover, and i am your jailor," to me is the crux of all those conflicting gnarly gay timelooper feelings. no one loves you like me, no one hurts you like me. i'm saving us, i'm keeping us trapped here. i'm the one who pulls you from your grave, i'm the one who throws the first shovel of dirt onto your coffin. i'm your lover, i'm your jailor.

also! even the title easily lends itself to lis imagery bc A) english is stupid and there are too many words that look the damn same so i think of spirals every time i see it. and more concretely, B) spiracles are little holes in an insect's body that they use to get oxygen and ofc,, both butterflies And the chrysalis itself have them. i'm mentally unwell about this actually. truly i wasn't aware i could be emotionally damaged by looking up caterpillar facts but that's what writing does to you i guess.

and lastly i picked out 'polluted marrow' as a title for the whole AU because

could be Any Of Them.

for Max it's "i'll still want you if you're nothing; i'll still want you if your insides are rotting." for Chloe it's "i want to know what's hurting you; i want to take it away." for Rachel it's "i want to see the depth of your sickness; i want you to hold it to my throat like the weapon you've made it into."

[my-mom-named-me-duck]

the edgy ramblings of a grumpy duck

so I wrote this in Google docs like 5 minutes ago and I decided since I have no one to show my edgy rant to so I decided to post it to the abyss that is my Tumblr. to the 1 person who actually ends up reading this I hope you like it :D this is effectively a vent so be warned and proceed at your own risk

Do you know what it's like to feel one of your senses slowly decay?

How it feels to know that what you are now is effectively worse than when you were born.

Do you know what it's like to count down the days till you're consumed into darkness knowing there's no escape and that you'll never get to see or do some of the things you've dreamed of.

Do you know the agony that is losing your sight at such a young age? Where no stranger believes that someone like you could ever be going blind because “only old people go blind” and “young people who are blind are blind at birth”.

Do you know what it feels like to be called a faker begging for attention?

I fucking wish i was faking it that way i could walk around in public being able to not bump into people and not having them think im just an asshole.

There's no winning.

What did I do to deserve this fate?

My life hasn't been easy so what have i done to deserve this.

I'm either a fake or a brat kid that needs to watch where they're going.

What have i done to you to deserve this slander all i did was pull my cane back so i wouldn't trip you, i did you a kindness and and all i get in return is a glare and an accusation of faking this god damn curse and when i do let people trip over my cane i'm seen as an asshole.

WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME.

I JUST WANT TO RIP OUT MY EYES SO IM NOT FORCED INTO THIS FUCKING LOOP OF TOO BLIND NOT BLIND ENOUGH.

I'm already tormented by the fact I'll never see again so why must you hurt me more.

I wish I never had sight because at least then I wouldn't be accused of being a faker and at least then I'd never know what I'm missing out on.

To those who accuse me of faking my disability i hope and pray you end up with a loved one or child cursed with the same fate i am that way you can hear them come to you crying because they are getting death threats online for faking their already miserable disability or getting bullied at school for faking it or being accused of faking their disability and being out on blast because the general public is way too stupid to realize that blind people have screen readers and they are able to use the internet.

I hope you hear that loved one talk about all of the blind jokes made to them.

I hope you hear that loved one break down because they keep hearing the same stupid joke of “well they're blind so how would they get offended by this if they cant watch it”.

Its fine the first 1000 times but when you hear it over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over it fucking breaks you.

Or that joke about the old lady who killed herself after getting her sight back and the power going out or that joke about you seeing a truck coming but the blind person didn't.

I hope you or a loved one goes through the agony I do so that you feel how much pain you put me through.

At least be creative with your bullying.

But I guess it's hard for someone in their 30's who decided to bully a disabled child to have any sort of creativity.

Go look at yourself in the mirror and see how pathetic you are instead of bullying a disabled child.

Also stop comparing me to toph and daredevil. 

Yes they are strong blind characters but I'm sick of it.

At least pick a cool blind character if you're going to boil me down to the one thing i hate about myself like at least tell me i'm like the creatures from a quiet place or some shit.

sorry for writing all this I'll draw more cute things after this is you want or I'll draw more creatures its upon to the 0 people who read to this point.

have a lovely day and stay safe

[bucket-barnes]

You betcha, pal

(Suggestion from @shouldwemaybe)

CJ Hook- the not so Jolly Roger

Heads up: I am still not a doctor, the research I do is minimal and I embellish for dramatic effect. If you know more about what I’m writing about than I do, just suspend your disbelief a little bit

CJ, the baby of the Hook family…not very supervised. CJ was often described as a “wild child” by her sister and a “damn loon on par with the boy” by her father, which really meant she wasn’t one for thinking more so doing and then worrying later…which often bit her in the ass later on

Food was scarce on the Isle, or at least sort of edible food was. CJ’s siblings often went hungry to make sure she stayed fed growing up, Harry saying he’d just go eat with Uma and Harriet saying she wasn’t hungry anyway. Granted, the food CJ was eating wasn’t that great of quality, stale bread with the mold scraped off, rotten eggs and vegetables, whatever fish Harry managed to fish up if they were lucky, safe to say the girl grew up with a strong stomach, which she’d sometimes use to her advantage

Maybe it was her yearning for adventure, maybe it was whatever parts of her brother’s insanity rubbed off on her, but CJ liked to play a little game with other residents of the Isle. You could give her the most rancid piece of food you could find (which wasn’t hard, it’s the Isle of the lost) and if she could keep it down, you owed her five dollars, and she always kept it down…when people were looking

Once eyes were off her, the day often turned into CJ going to the farthest corner of the Jolly Roger to throw up whatever she had put in her body, usually while one of her siblings (Harriet, usually, Harry if she was lucky, at least he wouldn’t scold her for playing this little game) she’d always say she’s fine and that it wasn’t a big deal, though her shaking body and slightly sickly pale skin would tell a different story. And yet, she would rinse and repeat this process every couple of days, for no other reason than she could

When CJ managed to sneak onto Auradon, she got a taste of Auradon food, usually small pastries that Freddie would steal for her…holy crap were they good! The lack of mold or overall decay was definitely nice, the food actually having a taste other than unholy was also welcomed, but uh…who would’ve thought that Auradon food would have a very similar effect on the young pirate as Isle food…but worse

She’d spend hours curled on the floor trying not to throw up on the floor, the food may have tasted amazing but it would always come back up. Freddie would take note of her friend’s shaking and overall sickly appearance, she looked worse than she did on the Isle, but, of course CJ would insist she’s fine and that it would pass, but on the inside…she just wanted her siblings. Harriet may have scolded her for her stupid game, but she’d always help her breathe through the sickness and give her a little praise for bringing in some money, and Harry would always hold her until the shaking stopped. But in Auradon…she didn’t have her siblings…she missed them

Eventually, CJ was caught and got tossed back onto the Isle of the lost, surprisingly, her siblings embraced her (in private- no affection in public) and told her how much they missed her…she did…kinda leave without warning

“We thought you were taken! Or dead! I swear to the gods if you do something that stupid again…”

Harriet scolded as she squeezed her little sister

“I was so ready to kill someone. At least leave a note next time”

Harry said under his breath as he kissed the top of CJ’s head

Harriet and Harry did take note of CJ’s sicker appearance, it perplexed them, she was in Auradon, how did she get worse? The two decided to keep it to themselves and look after their baby sister in quiet ways- they didn’t want to make her feel worse. They’d continue to give her the good pieces of their food, Harriet started dragging CJ along with her to keep her from eating street garbage while Harry started bringing whatever leftovers he could swipe from Ursula’s fish and chips home for both his sisters, though as usual, Harriet gave her portion to CJ saying she wasn’t hungry

Hope this works! You got a descendants character you’d like to see violently ill? Tell me immediately, I will make it happen!

[genericpuff]

Forgive my ignorance, but how does RS glorify sex workers?

Again I'm assuming this is referring to my recent post, that was a reblog, not my own post.

HOWEVER, I do agree with the OP that Rachel has a... skewed idea of sex work, how it works, and what risks it comes with for the people involved in it. With how it's depicted through LO, I get the sense Rachel is both uneducated on the topic and is attempting to write about it from a very privileged standpoint.

I get that's probably a loaded assumption but that's just the hunch I get. For starters, Rachel can only seem to give nymphs - the canonical lower class in LO - jobs that typucally involve them being subservient to the higher class. The most common job we see the nymph characters have is personal assistant - Echo becomes a PA to Hera, Thetis was a PA to Zeus, Minthe was a PA to Hades, and Leuce just recently applied to be a PA to Hades. The only nymph we see with a job that's adjacent to the gods is Amphitrite and we never actually get to see her do anything, she may as well just be a handbag accessory to Poseidon (which is a damn shame because she slays and I'd love to see more of her!) Even Psyche, who's turned into a goddess, is only given that gift of immortality because Zeus needs her to spy on Apollo for him. Prior to that, she spent time as a nymph who was - well, wouldn't you believe it - a servant to Aphrodite.

Now what does that have to do with the topic of sex work? Mainly, that Rachel writes these characters as if being directly subservient to a god is the best they'll ever get. And it's especially present in the original debut of Leuce, which was shown in the previous post but I'll post it here again for clarity:

Besides the fact that it's once again demonizing Demeter for zero reason (because sure why not), and besides the fact that it proves she designed Leuce as a flower nymph from the very beginning (and is now trying to retcon it because she knows she messed up, Leuce is an oceanid, not a flower nymph), this is just one of the many examples of Rachel glorifying or fetishizing the concept of being a sex worker. And being a sugar baby is adjacent to sex work (though there are debates on whether or not they are exactly the same thing, there are multiple schools of thought on it and considering I am neither a sugar baby nor a sex worker I will not share my opinion on it as my opinion isn't valid in that discussion), they're both roles that are predominantly occupied by women and involve a woman partaking in relationships - either short term or long term - for financial compensation.

The reason why I can agree that Rachel glorifies this is that she seems to be tone deaf to what life is actually like for a lot of sugar babies and sex workers. It's not just "sex for money", women are very often abused, stalked, harassed, even killed in this industry. And yet she seems to write about it as if being a sugar baby is the best thing a woman could ever dream of being because who wouldn't want to just sit around looking cute and getting paid? When in reality being a sugar baby comes with a lot more strings attached, it's not just "sitting around looking cute", it's putting yourself in the position of financial dependency on someone who you'd better hope doesn't turn out to be an abuser (and there are a LOT of people in the sugar baby sphere who do it just so they can get away with abusing women.)

It also doesn't help that Rachel writes about it as if only certain types of women are allowed to be celebrated for what they do. Persephone sits around doing nothing while her billionaire husband pays her way? She's a boss babe. Leuce got sick of Demeter and decided to just become a sugar baby in the city? It's going well for her. But then Minthe is someone who's financially tethered to a man who's regularly shown to be abusive? Well it's her fault for getting herself into it, she shouldn't have led him on like that, she's just being vapid and materialistic and she deserves to be cheated on.

I will add, though, that it's weird Rachel chose to debut Leuce in this way and is now making her out to be this vapid, dumb, delusional bimbo. Let's not forget who Leuce was in the original myths - the first wife of Hades. Rachel is so allergic to the concept of Persephone not being at the center of everything that she can't even let Hades have a life before Persephone (despite the fact that he's been alive for centuries before she was born). He dumped Minthe for Persephone, and when he called Hera by an old pet name, Persephone winds up blaming herself for being jealous and not analyzing the fact that Hades has a history of getting into emotional and physical affairs, even with his own brother's wife.

But I digress. The point is, the glorification in this case really feels like Rachel thinks being a sugar baby/sex worker is easy (it's not) and by extension thinks that lower class people should only aspire to be sugar babies/sex workers because lower class people are lazy and want money for doing "nothing" (*again, being a sugar baby or a sex worker is not easy) and only higher class women are allowed to be celebrated for wanting that and empathized with if it goes wrong - whereas if lower class people get hurt by it, welp, that's their fault for being materialistic, they should have put a ring on it and made it "real" (see: Minthe).

That's not necessarily what Rachel thinks, but that's the messaging that's apparent in her writing. It's very often pitting women against each other and making it out that only certain "types" of women are allowed to be empathized with or cheered for. And in LO's case, it's very clear what "type" of woman that is.