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wheneclipsefalls · 1 year ago

Text

Withered

Beautiful Adult Neteyam photo by the wonderful @cinetrix

Pairing: Alpha Neteyam x Beta Fem Omatikaya Reader

Synopsis: You and Neteyam have opposite lives. He thrives in the daylight of possibilities while you are forced to the shadows. You are sure that the right course of action would be letting the future Olo'eyktan go. Neteyam is less convinced.

Based on a request from my 🥔 anon

Warnings: aged up characters, aged up neteyam, angst, health problems, explicit smut, dirty talk, crying, miscommunication, p in v, virgin reader, first time, omegaverse, alpha/beta relationship dynamic, heat, sickness, 18+ only MDNI

Tanhi: star/little star I Yawne: beloved I Sevin: pretty I Mawey: calm

A/N: I can't tell you all enough how grateful I am for the hype and many comments that have been around this story just from that small sneak peek I posted. This ended up being a lot longer than I ever anticipated but I had a blast writing it. Please let me know what you think. I love hearing from y'all!

For many the sun is a symbol of warmth, peace, and solace. The bright rays enwrap Na’vi of all ages in the glow of Eywa’s love. The rise of morning light represents a new day, another chance for adventure and possibilities. When the illuminating glow of yellow sunshine transforms into streaks of vibrant purples and pinks, it indicates a time for families to come together and tuck in for the night.

However, for you, your day truly begins at the first glow of bioluminescence. Eclipse is your time to explore the world.

You were born with an almost unheard of disease. It only took a few days of your infant body breaking out into abnormal rashes for Tsahik to realize something was wrong. Exposure of more than a few minutes to sunshine causes detrimental effects to your body. For this reason, you are forced to avoid the vibrant glow of the sun.

From that moment on you have lived your life almost nocturnally. On lucky days the clouds protect you from the harmful UV rays. Rain has come to be your favorite weather as it allows you an escape from your hut.

Despite these difficulties you have always strived to remain positive. You thank your parents for their gracious attitudes that inspire you to look for the silver lining in all situations. Sure you can not sunbathe or prowl the forest during sunny days but no one knows the forest at Eclipse as well as you do. Your knowledge has come in handy more than a few times, being asked to guide night hunts with some of the most notorious warriors in the clan.

This is where you met Neteyam.

The firstborn of the infamous Toruk Makto and your future Olo’eyktan, you originally assumed he would have no interest in interacting with you. You knew him from afar, hearing the word spread of his kindness and diligence when it came to helping those around him. His alpha status only served to bring a larger gaggle of girls practically falling at his feet. As a beta and suffering from a rare condition, you naturally took yourself out of the run up. You were confident he would choose some sweet and knowledgeable omega that would be the perfect tsahik.

However, your assumptions quickly crumbled as he progressively paid attention to you more and more throughout these night hunts. Instead of joining the rest of the alpha warriors gathering to share a strong drink after a successful kill, he would opt to check in with you. You were shy at first, unsure of how to act around such an influential member of the clan. However, there was something about those golden orbs and soft smile that quickly set you at ease.

You still remember the first time you had sustained a small injury during these hunts. It was nothing more than a shallow slash to your forearm, but Neteyam had insisted on carefully wrapping it himself. You gushed over him like an idiot, reminding him that it was unnecessary but he showed his stubborn side that day.

At first you thought it was your own overactive imagination noticing the frequency of night hunts he signed up for increase, but eventually it had become every single night. No matter how boned-tired he was from a day of full Olo’eyktan training, he would beam at the sight of your small form. His scent was something that seemed to constantly enrapture your senses. The heavy essence of pine and hormonal swings was so much stronger than yours. It took some getting used to. The first few nights you were bashful to come home and find evidence of your arousal dampening your loincloth.

Still, you told yourself it was just a simple crush that you had to live with. It took weeks for you to even consider the possibility of Neteyam showing interest in you. He had been consistent in bringing you out of your shell, getting you to talk about everything from your family to the fondest hope and dreams in your heart. Oftentimes he would stay back behind after the hunt to help you join him sitting on an overarching thick branch (you were grateful for the darkness of eclipse that hid your blush each time he effortlessly hoisted you up with large hands gently holding your waist) and chat away into the night.

It was only when the gifts began that you gave these interactions a second thought. It had started small with simple flowers and fruits he had encountered throughout the day. However, they slowly became more intricate. The first time he brought you a small woven bracelet of sparkling gems, you had been gobsmacked.

“Like the night sky. The only thing appropriate for my tanhi.” He had said, making you almost choke on your own spit. Tahni- little star: a nickname he had coined for you after the first week. A fitting term for someone that only knew the night sky. Still, it was the first time he had ever called you his. The terminology was not lost on you.

When the sun arose once more and you had retired back to your protected hut, those words had kept you up, your small fingers twiddling with the bracelet.

Taking your acceptance of the small gift, Neteyam had become even more bold with his courting. Before you knew it he was bringing a meal with him for you before every hunt. You had tried to decline the thoughtful gesture but he would not take no for an answer.

“Someone has to make sure you eat, tanhi.”

There was no fighting the alpha on this, so you graciously took the meals each night. He smiled proudly as you moaned in satisfaction of the carefully seasoned meat he had killed and prepared for you. Another testament to the mighty warrior and beneficial mate he is.

You started to think that the eldest Sully was simply a flirt, or perhaps such a kind person that his actions came off as romantic. However, there was one instance that finally tipped you to accepting his affections. It was a particularly successful hunt, dragging home a thanator, when he had slowed down to your pace. Talking about anything and everything under the night sky, your breath was practically stolen from your lungs when he reached out to tuck a strand of your dark hair behind your ear.

However innocent the gesture was, it was the lingering of his hand running down your neck that caused your heart to bash against your rib cage violently. A simple brush that had left his scent to coalesce with yours. An essence that would keep other suitors away. Out of habit, you mentally went to play it off as a simple accident, but the crooked smirk plastered across his face did not allow you. There was a primal satisfaction seated in those golden orbs, one that caused a pool of arousal to gather in your core.

He knew what he had done.

Neteyam was proud of it.

His affection was untethered from that point forward. Accidental brushes of fingers had turned into blatant hand holding. The alpha never missed an opportunity to press a warm hand to the small of your back, guiding you through the terrain, or wrap an arm around your waist in order to steady you when walking over uneven forest floor.

“What kind of alpha would I be if I let you get hurt?”

He had spoken in response to your inquiry, a cheeky grin plastered across his face.

Falling for Neteyam was easy. Too easy. It was keeping yourself back from jumping into his arms or melting into his embraces that was difficult. No matter how strange and suggestive his behavior had been, you didn’t want to get your hopes up. After all, there was no saying what he got up to during the day. For all you knew he could be taking omegas out every day and weaving sweet gifts for them too.

So you had decided to do what was best for everyone and take yourself out of the situation before something embarrassing could happen. You declined the request to accompany the hunting party and instead went to spend some more time with your family. If your parents noticed the difference in your appearance they did not show it. They were always good at giving you space, respecting your independence as an adult (although your mother did go out of her way to place a comforting hand on your shoulder, a silent way to express her understanding and love). Neither of them knew about Neteyam at the time, it was easier that way.

This fact only heightened their surprise when they saw Toruk Makto’s eldest son approaching their small gathering. You can still remember the intent gaze that Neteyam pierced you with. Your heart hammered out of your chest, hands fidgeting with the moss beneath you nervously. Neteyam signaled the traditional greeting to your parents before respectfully asking your father if he could borrow you for a moment.

They were caught off guard, your dad turning back to send you a curious look, but naturally neither wanted to decline the Omatikaya prince.

Once the two of you were finally alone, Neteyam immediately sprang into action. He grabbed your biceps and used that hold to turn you from side to side as he scanned your form. His intense inspection had blood rushing to your cheeks.

“Neteyam, what are you doing? I thou-”

“Where are you injured?” You twitched when he reached a hand out to inspect your flicking tail too. Confusion swarmed within you. You had sputtered and struggled to put together a full sentence.

“It has been three days, Tanhi. I blew one day off as exhaustion or a fluke and the second as pure coincidence but surely only an injury would keep you away from the hunt for three days.” His eyes finally met yours again when there was no wound to be found. His tall frame had towered over yours as he reached out to cup your cheek.

That familiar warmth and adoration you had for him had returned within an instant.

You stepped back, successfully out of his grasp.

“I’m fine.” You replied simply.

His tail swatted in the humid air and those golden orbs had squinted into slits. The focused attention of that look full of suspicion was enough to hold you down to your spot. You swallowed the lump in your throat and as you tried desperately to keep the fidgeting at bay. It was one of the few times you were grateful to be beta because surely an omega would shrivel under the pressure of his looming presence.

“I don’t like when you lie to me, Tahni. Now tell me why I’ve had to go without my little star for three whole days.” Neteyam placed his hands sternly upon his hips, ears twitching forward as if preparing to take in your explanation. An explanation that you felt could not be shared. Doing so was bound to undermine your plans, completely destroying the efforts that had been made.

“The group seems to be more than sufficient without my guidance.” You don’t dare to meet his eyes, your own orbs trained at the ground instead. In a moment’s notice his sculpted body was once again inches away from yours. His warmth came off of him in waves, along with the heady aura of alpha pheromones.

You couldn’t hold back the shiver that ran down your spine when he placed heavy hands on your shoulders and bent over your frame till you could feel his calm breath against your ear. Neteyam’s tail wrapped around your thigh. A part of your brain told you to run, understanding the alluring danger that awaited you, while the other yearned to curl up against his impressive physique.

You couldn’t understand how any omega managed to be around this male without completely dropping to their knees.

Suddenly you had some sympathy for the girls that had always fawned over him.

“Tell me the truth, sevin.” The heated words tickled at your ears and made your heart skip a beat. It was foolish to think that there was any chance of lying to Neteyam, the mighty warrior that walked with the confidence of the supernatural.

So you did.

You had scrambled to messily explain how it would be best if the two of you spent less time together. Unfortunately this unrehearsed synopsis included an approach that painted yourself as the foolish beta with a crush on the Omatikaya prince and therefore unable to handle herself around him. It was not the perspective you had hoped for, but it was the only one that could have been presented in your state of jumbled thought.

Neteyam shook his head, an almost fond smile upon his lips.

“Tanhi, you really do not like to make things easy for me.” A bitter laugh escaped his throat. The sound put you slightly on edge but there was no trace of anger in his expression. Amusement was easily perceivable in the raise of his hairless eyebrows. He had taken your humiliating and pathetic explanation in stride, in fact, he had found humor in it.

“I thought I’ve made myself clear.” You were swooped into the encirclement of his arms in one quick motion. You squeaked and braced yourself against the warm muscles of his abdomen. “You are the mate I seek.”

His words had thrown you into a spiral, your heartstrings plucking into rhythms of heightened emotion. It was almost too much to take in. A part of you still found security in denying these bold claims but there had been too much evidence at that point. Neteyam Sully had in fact been courting you.

His head lowered, nuzzling at your face until you finally looked up at him. Your lips were only a breath apart.

“If you’ll have me.” Neteyam whispered.

There was no fighting the longings of your heart at that rate. That night you had agreed to his courting and within a month the two of you had been madly in love and preparing to officially mate.

The process was faster, seemingly faster than anything else in your life. Night had always slowed you down from progressing in the normal rhythm of Na’vi milestones, but Neteyam had broken that pattern for you.

You can still remember the vivid sensation of his tendrils connecting with your own. Those sparks of electricity that had created a direct line to his innermost feelings and thoughts. There was great solace to be found in the surging feelings of love and adoration he had for you, something you had been able to tap into. Still, nothing could ever compare with the way you felt for Neteyam.

He’s your world. Your light. Your sun.

Being with him feels like finally having a taste of those golden rays. You can see it in his smile. In the shake of his shoulders when his laughter trickles from soft lips. In the unashamed sparkle that overtakes his eyes in a coating whenever they land on you after a long day of training.

Neteyam has become your world in only a matter of a few months. It is hard to imagine how you went so many years without this unbreakable connection between the two of you. Each night you wake up to the warm embrace of your mate who has come home from a long day of training. Soft kisses are placed along your eyelids, cheeks, and nose until your thick lashes flutter and you regain consciousness.

The searing envious looks of other females can be felt at your back when the two of you join the rest of the clan for dinner each night, but it is only white noise in the presence of your handsome mate guiding you with a hand to the small of your back. In fact it becomes less than a passing memory when Neteyam goes on to share the events of the day in great detail, usually pulling out a tucked away gift he has found for you along the trails of his adventures.

There is so much hidden beneath that emanating exterior of perfection that Neteyam upholds. He strips away those layers only for you, usually among the flowering meadow the two of you lay in while stargazing. The stories often end with your mate trailing off into a groggy murmur until the air fills with the sounds of his sleeping breaths. You prefer to stay tucked against him for a while longer, letting the moment last before you must wake him and shoo the mighty warrior back home for some much needed rest.

While he sleeps you venture from the hut to forage and hunt, although Neteyam prefers to accompany you during dangerous hunts. You decide that what he doesn’t know can’t hurt him. He is known to be an overprotective alpha anyway. Once food has been secured and your adventures have come to a close, you slip back into the darkened hut before the first break of dawn. Those specially made thick curtains are the difference between life and death for you.

Although the tent has been sufficient for years, Neteyam continues to add to its layers. He is constantly worrying about the vulnerabilities of the hut, convinced that one slip could bring catastrophic consequences to his mate. So he works with his father to constantly rebuild and strengthen the exterior walls. There are times where you remind him of how unnecessary these actions are but Neteyam is undeterred by these conversations. So you let your mate continue his projects. If it brings him peace of mind to obsess over the structure then it must be doing some good.

Things are great for the first month. Nothing sexual occurs during those first few weeks of being newly mated, out of respect to you. There is no denying that Neteyam has had experience in the ways of pleasuring females but you on the other hand have never been close to intimate with someone else. As a couple you decide to take things slow. However, you can not help but admire the restraint Neteyam shows when you catch the shift of his pheromones into that of lust or see the tightness of his loincloth after a particularly long make out session.

Were it any other alpha you are sure that the time would have come for him to become impatient and work towards persuading you to go further with him. However, Neteyam knows that you are shy and nervous. He puts your needs before his own and constantly assures you that he is happy to wait so long as you feel comfortable when the time is right.

Your apprehension has slowly been melting away. The soft caresses that travel along your form sends a burning thrill that is exotic to you. Moments where you are brave enough to straddle his lap while kissing, the friction of his groin against your core is electric. These new feelings have been quickly festering and building inside of you. The nerves have slowly morphed into alluring curiosity. It has been becoming harder to hold back.

For this reason, you’ve decided to tell Neteyam tonight that you are ready. Finally, the bond created through tsaheylu will be strengthened and confirmed by the intertwining of each other’s bodies.

The last hints of sunshine have disappeared behind the moon. This time you wake before Neteyam has a chance to come wake you up himself. The nerves that bundle into a coil in your stomach have kept you from sleeping in so you decide to seek him out yourself. It shouldn’t be long till he is back from an exhibition with Jake.

The village is lively with reuniting families after a prosperous day of duties. It's a familiar sight that has always brought a warmth to your heart, especially that of small children running to their mothers or fathers with grabby hands. There are times where you imagine sending your own child to wobble excitedly towards Neteyam, spun through the air by the mighty warrior that you are lucky enough to call your mate.

High in the trees, hidden by the walls of a family hut you hear the familiar voice of Lo’ak. A smile tugs at your lips, confident that Neteyam is sure to be with his brother. However, that excitement is dampened slightly when the responding voice is not your mate’s but Unip’s.

“I just don’t know how long he thinks this can go on.” Unip sighs.

“Well you know how Neteyam is. He will find a way to succeed and if not, he will die trying.” Lo’ak snorts, but there is a hint of concern in his nonchalant tone. It’s a timber that makes you halt in your tracks and ears twitch to hear the conversation.

“It’s only going to get worse, you know. Once he is Olo’eyktan, half a night’s rest will not be enough anymore. He already looks half dead.”

There is a silence that follows, only filled by the sound of your own heart thumping.

“You’re never going to convince him otherwise, bro.” Lo’ak responds, amused tone faltering greatly.

Stepping forward, you curve yourself around a thick tree trunk in effort to discreetly get a better look at the pair. Lo’ak’s back is facing towards you but even from this low vantage point, the lines of his tense muscle are easy to spot. Your golden eyes have become specialized for seeing in the dark after all these years, allowing a better image of his form and mannerisms. You are used to reading people’s expressions and body language with only the dim glow of eclipse.

“Stubborn skxawng.” Unip shakes his head before leaning against the sturdy trunk. His scowl is illuminated by the soft red glow of a patch of sprouting flowers. The sight makes your stomach twist.

Have things truly gotten this bad?

“Neteyam won’t leave her. You and I both know that. All that can be done is make peace with it.” Lo’ak shrugs his shoulders.

“And watch him turn into an old man in a few years. Those bags are sure to be bad for his pretty boy appearance.” Unip quips back, causing both the males to break out into laughter.

The tension visibly eases between them but you are not laughing. In fact, you can feel the beginning of those twisting nerves pushing bile up your throat. All joyful anticipation has washed from your features, replaced with dread and horror.

Your feet drum against the forest floor, stuck on autopilot and effectively taking you home. The beginning of streaming tears threaten to drop past your eyes.

It’s true that Neteyam has been tired but it isn’t till now that you reply back your interactions and his recent appearance. Those dark circles aren’t as prevalent in the light of eclipse, perhaps they are more telling in daylight. Neteyam has a way of falling asleep in a matter of seconds once hitting the mat but you have always assumed that to be a part of his nature. Some people are naturally deep sleepers.

However, now, all of these signs appear in a different light for you. Each conversation is played back in your head but of course Neteyam has never let his weaknesses show, especially ones that could be brought on by you. You know this and yet it is only now that you scold yourself for not being more perceptive, for not seeking advice and perspective from those around him.

His family and friends have an advantage that you can not achieve. Surely they would be the first to notice his changes in demeanor and health. They are the ones watching him work, train, and interact more closely with clan members. You have never been more envious of those walking in the sun in your entire life. This condition has always been a hassle for you but now it has turned into true heartache.

This weakness that Eywa has given you is no longer just affecting you but now your perfect mate. This disease has spread to him in a way you scold yourself for not anticipating.

How is he supposed to become Olo’eyktan, protecting and guiding the People all while being tethered to you?

Eywa has destined your life to be forever restricted to the shadows, but that is not Neteyam’s path.

You can spot the familiar dark canvases of your hut in the trees up ahead. No doubt Neteyam has already returned home at this point, if not then he will soon. Less than an hour earlier you were ecstatic to see him but now the thought of seeing those tired eyes makes you want to curl up into a ball.

Needing more time to process, you opt to take a different route, one that leads to a secluded waterfall. Safe in the greenery and now sitting in the shallow area of the glowing water, you take a moment to breathe. Water trickles into a soothing pattern that has been associated with your memories in this found sanctuary.

Truly, none of this should be a surprise. This ailment has been the driving course of your life thus far and you’ve grown used to it, letting go of certain aspects that are not meant for you. Neteyam is just another one of those. He is beyond your reach. Keeping him here would only hurt the clan. They need a leader that can be with them, present both physically and mentally. For the greater good it is time to let him become that Olo’eyktan.

Perhaps you would have accepted this fact and stuck to it earlier on were it not for the great love you hold for him. Neteyam Sully holds your heart and soul effortlessly in his hands. There will never be another that lights up your life the same way he does and truth be told, you don’t want there to be. Forever your first and only love.

Regardless, the time for being selfish is over.

Some Na’vi have the honor of dying a warrior’s death, going down in the name of protecting the People. Others sacrifice their time and energy serving the clan daily in the name of Eywa. You have been kept back from either of these duties so it makes sense that giving up the future Olo’eyktan would be your contribution.

After all, how are you supposed to serve as Tsahik with your limitations?

This makes sense. Your brian tells you this is the logical solution. Life will go on. You will return back to a life that you have come to be content with over the years and Neteyam will find a proper mate that can serve The People by his side.

Still, it is impossible to ignore the cracks that are slowly developing in your heart. It is difficult to imagine a life without your true love. The thought alone has a sob crawling up your throat. This sound however is morphed into a strange shriek when a pair of muscular arms suddenly grasp and pull you back against a hard chest.

The water splashes around the two of you and you can feel the rumble of Neteyam’s laughter as you are awkwardly shifted in his arms.

“Baby girl, you are really off your game today.” He teases fondly before nuzzling his face into the curve of your neck. An efficient shuffle has you more familiarly settled between the corded muscle of his toned thighs. Instinctually you lean back against him.

“What? Nothing to say in your defense?”

“Oh yeah uh just tired.” You lamely respond.

“Silly Tanhi, today has barely begun.”

For you.

The day has barely begun for you and only you. Every other Na’vi enjoy the blissful alignment of the sun and their ‘days’. You are the outlier.

Gathering up your courage you finally lift yourself onto your knees and turn to face him. Neteyam grins, but for once you aren’t focused on the gleams of those pearly teeth. Sure enough there are dark circles in a crescent shape beneath his eyes. You reach out to thumb at those dark contrasts. The alpha blissfully misreads this as cupping his cheek. He leans into the touch and his smile broadens.

“My sweet sevin.” He mumbles. Your stomach tightens back into that knot. Finally, he seems to notice the shift in your demeanor. The smile falters and he places his hand over the one cupping his cheek. The large veined hand completely covers yours.

“What’s wrong?”

It seems an impossible task to go through with what you know must be done. A part of you considers holding off, letting it last a little longer before you lose him forever. However, that would only result in a more sleep deprived Omatikaya Prince and the suffering of future Olo’eyktan.

The longer you take to respond the faster the amusement in those golden orbs declines. He calls your name softly and turns his head to gently peck your palm.

“I just-” You steady yourself. The words feel like acid crawling up your throat and sitting pressed against him only makes it burn more. Cautiously you detach yourself completely and settle down on the colorful rocks lining the shallow river.

Neteyam immediately stiffens. His tail curls up into high alert and his ears twitch back slightly, but still you can see the now fake smile plastered on his face.

“You’re…tired.” It’s a weak start but they are the only words you can force out.

There is a flicker of surprise in his features but it melts away into a mocking eye roll. The corners of his lips are back to being turned up in a more genuine manner.

“Well of course I’m a little tired Tanhi. Every mighty warrior should be if he’s done his job right.” The alpha chuckles and you can almost taste the deviation of his pheromones. He confidently reaches out to take your hand in his. “But never too tired to spend time with my sweet little star.”

The cool rush of water is a dramatic contrast to the warm grasp Neteyam has on your hand. It feels like fire that curls up your veins and pushes tears to the back of your eyes. It’s too painful to be close like this. To see him obliviously flirt and cuddle as if all is well when you know deep down that this will be the last time you feel his touch.

“No, I mean exhausted. Ma Neteyam-” You shut your mouth tight. That phrase was so easily in your arsenal of vocabulary but it’s time to start training yourself to stop using it. You brush the circles under his eyes again. “You haven’t been getting enough sleep.”

Realization seems to dawn for him.

“Oh you mean my eyes. Lo’ak was teasing me earlier about it. Didn’t think it would bother you so much, sevin, but I’m sure my grandmother has some herbs to lighten the color.” He laughs lightly.

“No, Neteyam. This is bad for you. Staying up every night only to push yourself to the limit the next day. Living in that darkened hut. Spending every last fiber of energy you have spending time with me. Taking care of me-”

“That is what mates do, Tanhi. I don’t want it any other way-”

“I am bad for you!”

The words cut through the air and suddenly every remnant of the playful atmosphere has disappeared.

“Don’t say stuff like that, Tanhi.” His voice is firm, stern enough to be considered reprimanding. Neteyam eyes darken onto a duller glow. The musky scent of your mate shifts into that of a stronger presence. It’s moments like that that you remember how distinct his second gender is.

“Neteyam, you know I’m right. This condition is no longer just hurting me but you too. Playing this game of back and forth makes no sense.”

He sits up straight, back stiff as a rod. It takes everything in you to hold that gaze without bursting into tears and backing down. The flicker of his tail has turned into frantic swatting as his lips curl downwards.

“What are you trying to say, love?”

You gulp and prepare yourself to utter words that weigh heavy in your heart.

“We have to end this.”

Silence drags on. The rush of running water and purring wildlife is the only thing that fills the air. Your tail swishes nervously in the water, causing a slight splash. No matter which way you squint or tilt your head, Neteyam’s expression is unreadable. Even your enhanced night vision is not enough to fully understand or anticipate the brewing emotions beneath those golden eyes.

“No.”

Your mind sputters to a halt at the snipped response. He’s giving you nothing to work with.

“Neteya-”

“Where is all of this coming from, yawne?” He reaches forward to cup your cheek but you stand up before he can. This close proximity is becoming too much. Perhaps it’s cowardly, but you need a reprieve from his love-filled gaze and tender touches. Otherwise, there is no way you will be able to do what needs to be done. You wonder if he knows this as you are met with a toned chest at eye level blocking your path.

“Did something happen?”

“No.”

“Then why are you so worried all of a sudden?” He pleads for an answer but you have finally managed to slip past him and wade out of the water. The drum of your feet rings in your ears, taking you to Eywa knows where. Neteyam is hot on your heels.

“It’s not just worry, it’s logic, Neteyam. Can’t you see? You are going to be Olo’eyktan. The People need a leader that won’t be tied to some nocturnal Na’vi that drains the last bit of energy you have left.”

The alpha goes to interject but the words are flying out of your mouth at such a speed at this rate, he has no opportunity.

“They will need a Tsahik that can do more than just work a night shift. Not to mention one that actually understand healing protocal-”

“My grandmother has already offered to teach you.” He counters, stomping feet practically nipping at your heels. It’s not that you mean to walk away from him, but the dam that holds your suffocating emotions at bay is starting to crack and crumble. One look at him could weaken your resolve. This has to be done fast, ripped off like an adhesive bandage.

“You deserve to be with someone that can lead The People with you. A mate that can serve both you and the clan in a way I never can. An omega that is a proper mate.”

A strong hand clamps around your bicep and spins you around. Neteyam glowers down at you with an intensity that is borderline desperate. The tears are starting to leave a glaze over your eyes, even as you avoid his own at any cost.

“You are my mate. You are the woman that I choose to spend the rest of my days with.” He tries to gently tilt your face towards him by grabbing your chin, but you flick it off. “We are mated before Eywa.” The crack in his voice tears at your heart.

“I shouldn’t have let it go on this long, I’m sorry. I foolishly let myself believe that you and I are meant to be but now it is clear that my head was simply in the clouds.” A sob thickens your voice until it is barely tangible. Words are failing you and you idly wonder how many more you will truly be able to manage in this state.

You attempt to flee from his embrace once more, just a moment to escape that heartbreaking stare that follows your every move. Neteyam holds you gently by the biceps but there is enough force there to keep you in place.

“We are, Tahni. All these other obstacles are just that, obstacles. Things we can overcome.” He slumps down, determined to finally have your eyes meet his. The curtain of your flowing hair is a weak shield against these efforts. You can feel the heat of his escalating breath tickle at your cheeks. He swoops in closer slowly, with the caution of closing in on a skittish prey. “It’s just you and me, little star.”

The flat of his nose finally rests against yours, lips only a sudden movement away.

There are promises of familiar comfort and happiness in this intimate position. Your nature keens towards his gentle touch. It prompts you to hide away every other concern, worried that it could break this moment of tranquility.

However, that is exactly what you do.

“You have to break it.”

There is a pause, a moment of shock that you take advantage of. Slipping out his hold, you watch realization slink across his features. It’s blood chilling, the look of horror that is clearly evident upon his handsome face. It’s a rare thing to render Neteyam speechless. He has grown up learning how to lead and command a room with confidence and grace. Seeing him now, mouth agape as his thoughts lag, it’s easier to see that there is simply a normal man behind the mighty warrior.

A male that you have managed to strip away the light in his eyes, all evidence of excitement lost.

It is now that you can truly see the aching restlessness and lost nights of sleep in his demeanor. He wilts before you.

“You don’t mean that.” He insists, voice now hollow of its usual domineering confidence.

“I do.” The timber of your voice shivers and shakes, doing nothing to strengthen your resolve. Still, the lost look that Neteyam sends you absolutely wrenches at your heart. “It’s what’s best for everyone.”

Words that are meant to reassure him at least slightly only make his tail halt movement, obvious that the phrase only digs the dagger deeper into his chest.

“Everyone?” He whispers, hairless eyebrows drawing together. Hesitant steps lead you backwards, eager to begin your journey away from this tornado of darkened emotions. Away from the raincloud you have created between the two of you. “You…this is what you want?”

Want.

That small word is a palpable distinction. To change this argument from what needs to be done to the inner workings of your desires and dreams. To veer it towards the ever flowing river of devotion and love you know will always be in your heart for him. It’s the one move that leaves you completely defenseless.

This is the last thing that you want.

He has to know that. He must know that. And perhaps that is why he faces you with this question head on, forcing you to say the words out loud. It’s a towering wall that you have no hopes of climbing. Lying is not your strong suit. Neteyam knows that.

“Please Neteyam.” You send your final plea before turning on your heel and bolting. Vanishing into the trees before he has a second to form one syllable.

Lying isn’t your strength, but hiding is something you are familiar with.

“She’ll probably cool down.” Lo’ak reassures him, handing a leaf with larvae to Neteyam.

“What did I do wrong?” Neteyam wonders out loud. It’s difficult for Lo’ak to tell whether or not that question is rhetorical. The eldest Sully’s eyes are focused on the horizon, he’s lost. Off somewhere else.

“Nothing, bro! Not everything is that simple.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Neteyam sees the wooden cup of strong drink pushed toward him but he declines. Drinking is the last thing he needs right now, although it is tempting. These past two days have been pure torture and sorrow. Washing every clouding thought away with the swig of fermented fruit would surely keep his mind off of you for a while, but it would never stop the permanent ache in his chest.

Although Neteyam knows he must look awful because even his father encourages him to drink, despite the duties he is set to carry out the next day. Most nights he is advised to keep his wits about him, but Jake has let up since the event.

“There has to be something I could’ve said. Perhaps something I can say now.”

“Bro, you’ve already said more than enough. If your constant notes and begging haven’t got her to let you into the hut, I don’t think words are the problem here.” A grimace is etched into Lo’ak’s features but Neteyam turns away from the sight. He can’t handle the look of pity that his family seems to constantly be shooting him.

He looks miserable. He is miserable. Every Na’vi with eyes can see that much. However, he doesn’t want sympathy. He needs solutions. A plan that will set things right again. Anything to bring his littler start back into his arms.

“Ma Teyam,” Neteyiri gently coos, haunching forward to tuck on the tangled braids behind his ear. “Perhaps it is time to give her some space.”

Usually his mother’s presence has the power to soothe away the worst of his worries, but today all he can do is sigh at her words. Sitting in problems has never been his strong suit. Neteyam is used to problem solving. Coming up with a strategy and executing it until the issue is nothing but a distant memory. He prays to Eywa that this too will become just that. Something that can be laughed at down the road.

However, sitting here now surrounded by people and never feeling more lonely, it’s hard to imagine ever laughing at such a thing.

Neteyam continues to pick at the grass next to the untouched meal. The sun has been down for over an hour now. Dinner is wrapping up and there is still no sight of you…again. Every crunch of a leaf or flitter of voices has him turning to search for your small frame in the darkness. It’s an effort that leaves him empty handed every time but, no matter the frequency of failure he can’t stop himself from whipping his head around anyway.

“You know, there was a time that I was upset with your father. Livid, actually. And yet here we are today.” Neytiri almost purrs, trying to comfort her son.

“Yeah and did he wait around and give you space?” The words come out harsher than intended but Neytiri doesn’t tell him off like usual. Instead her ears pin back and she runs a thumb across his cheek. Jake and Neytiri lock eyes from across the fire, a silent communication that has Jake clearing his throat.

“I’m not sure if I’m the prime example in this scenario, kid.” A deep chuckle accentuates Jake’s words. He goes to close his mouth and leave it at that but his mate sends him one fierce look that lets him know he is far from done comforting their eldest. “I mean uh truth be told, I was an absolute knucklehead before I met your mother.”

“Still are.” She corrects him.

Jake doesn’t try to fight against the claim, but he does nervously clasp the back of his neck, searching for the right words to say.

“Tanhi still hasn’t eaten. Must go.” Neteyam abruptly calls, on his feet within a heartbeat. He gently cradles his untouched meal in the palm of his hand as he navigates his way out of the circle of his family. Neytiri sighs and Jake sends her an apologetic look as they watch their son slither off into the night once again.

Even Tuk sends sad eyes in the direction of her older brother as he walks away.

Upon reaching the dark curtains of your hut, Neteyam is unsure whether or not you still reside inside. There is no sign of light emanating inwards. For a moment he is convinced that you have slipped out during his absence, but then there is a ruffle of covers that his ears manage to pick up. Stalking forward carefully, he leans in to pick up on every sound possible.

Even with his alpha hearing, there is little to no noise coming from the hut. Or at least no sound that is useful to him in any way. He wonders what you are up to within those darkened walls. His hindbrain urges him to go inside and find out for himself, cradle you in his arms till there are promises of never leaving again. However, he knows better than that.

Neteyam waits to be invited in.

“Tanhi?” The sound echoes through the night air, but no response comes. With a sigh he kneels down by the entrance, cautiously pushing the leaf underneath the thick rim of fabric.

“You missed dinner again.” Neteyam knows he shouldn’t expect a response at this point, but his tail still naturally droops to the floor when one doesn’t come. “I brought some for you.”

He waits once more, but silence hangs heavy in the air. Neteyam’s ears twitch to focus in on the minute sounds again. The shallow breathing is confirmation enough of your presence. A part of him almost wishes that he is talking to a blank piece of fabric. If you had left then he could have at least spent that anxious energy scouring the forest for your slim frame. If you had left it would give him hope that you’ve hunted, eaten, gone on a walk. Anything that isn’t sitting in your hut.

“Do me a favor, baby. Please eat something. Maybe you have been when I’m not breathing down your neck,” He gives a humorless laugh. “But…I just want to make sure you’re healthy. I’m starting to get worried.”

When the silence continues he doesn’t leave immediately. The weight of the stress and heartache is tangible. He can feel it in his bones. He can sense it when in the lag of his maneuvers and movements during flight in his training. Truth be told, Neteyam is sure that it’s visible to others, shining through in his trudging walk to and fro.

Sitting here in the grass, the same place he had spent that first night you started icing him out, he can feel the weight of sleep pulling him downwards. The muscles of his body scream in protest at every movement. Physically his body is ready to give way, but his hindbrain weaves together signs of distress all night long.

His instincts yearn to be close to you again, close to his mate who he shares a special connection with that nothing can replace. At times it is painful, that bond between the two of you. Neteyam remembers many days where that connection has been physically fortified by your time together, binding tighter with every brush of his fingers along your skin. However, he did not anticipate the effects of the opposite reaction.

Going to sleep alone and cold, leaves a heavy weight on his chest. At times it feels almost suffocating. Sleeping outside of your hut doesn’t erase these pains, but it does dull them slightly. He wonders if you’ve ever stepped over him during his slumber. Actively trying to or not, his senses remain on high alert throughout the night. He can wake at the drop of a leaf, false hope that it may be your small form finally stepping past those heavy curtains.

“Neteyam.” His head whips around at the voice, but it isn’t your honey timber that flits through his ears. Instead it comes from behind him, where Kiri stands with her hands woven together in front of her.

“What’s wrong?”

Not bothering to answer, she instead motions for him to follow her. He glances back at the entrance of your hut, but one look at Kiri’s down turned lips has him groggily shifting back onto his feet. She doesn’t speak till the two of them are out of ear shot.

“Mom and Dad sent you?” Neteyam guesses, tail already drooping between his legs. It bothers him that his parents are rushing to bandage things up, treating him like a child. Advice is appreciated at the best of times, but this is his life. He is an adult, and has been for years now. The rift that has been fortified between you two is his problem to solve and therefore his choice on how to fix it.

“No, just thought I would save you from making a fool of yourself.” She continues to effortlessly lead him away from the hut.

“I’m just dropping some food off.”

“I know.” There is no hint of mocking or disbelief in her tone. She simply grabs his hand gently and guides him back along the path home. Neteyam braces himself for a spew of advice but it never comes. Kiri to his surprise is silent, no hint of tension lingering between them. Still, he knows what message is being conveyed. No matter how much it hurts, he can’t continue to barricade your front door.

It’s moments like these that Neteyam comes to truly admire how much his younger sister has grown up. She prances through the forest with a humble confidence. Each step taken with the certainty of belonging. Kiri no longer needs others to tell her who she is. Similarly she feels no need to press her opinions on her older brother. She waits patiently. As if she knows that he will come to her when the time is right.

It is a quality he looks upon with great fondness and gratitude.

Life has thrown you more obstacles than you care to count. This condition has been a stumbling block your entire life, but you refuse to let it keep you from the finishing line. You consider yourself a persevering person, one that is not easily taken down. When things get difficult you have always been taught to gather your bearings and get to work. Some sacrifices are painful but meant to be left behind if they are keeping you from fulfilling a happy and purposeful life.

So for the first few days, you try to get back into your normal routine. The first night was spent weaving baskets together through the blurred vision of your tears. The basket came out looking like it had been mauled by a Palulukan. Regardless you continued to attempt getting back into your old routine, however those were usually filled with night hunts, an activity you were terrified of seeing Neteyam at. So you declined.

However, truth be told, it only takes twenty four hours to realize that this heartbreak is intruding upon everything you do. You open your eyes as sunset turns to Eclipse and the first thing that surfaces is the dread at needing to go to communal dinner. So, you push dinner off. Neteyam is persistent in bringing you a plate each night, usually saying a few apologies and begging once again for you to come out.

Your lips are raw and sore from biting into them in order to keep sobs at bay every time he comes to visit. Those first few nights he spent laying outside your hut was an awful mixture of longing and agony. His potent essence was easily carried through the night wind, constantly bringing it to your senses. You had twisted in the thin blankets on your hammock to stop yourself from going out there and cuddling next to him.

On the third night, he doesn’t stay.

You expect to feel relieved when he silently sets the serving of food down and leaves.

And yet, there is a part of you that longs for the draw of his smooth voice, no matter how distraught and rough it has become over the past few days. A part of you seems to also intrinsically sense his presence, even in the midst of slumber. Now that he spends his nights away from your hut, the emotional turmoil has become too much to handle.

Simple tasks pose as daunting accomplishments, ones that already feel like impending defeat. So, you slowly start losing those habits too. Your eyes run out of tears to shed so instead you spend more than a reasonable amount of time pondering on your life. You consider what it is that brought you to these circumstances, questioning whether or not you were the one to blame for this heartbreak. Perhaps, you were the one easily swayed into promises of fairy tales.

Before you know it a whole week has passed and you haven’t stepped foot outside. Recognizing this fact makes you feel pathetic and helpless, something that you don’t take a liking to. So, with red rimmed eyes and a congested nose, you take up a new purpose. Wielding together weapons from the materials in your hut.

Although they’re nothing to gawk at, the finished results are enough to convince yourself that you are contributing to the welfare of the clan. The steps are repetitive and allow your thoughts to wander while doing so. By the second week you have donated a fair amount to the hunting parties without having to leave your home, thanks to the kindness of your mother.

Your parents drop in frequently, but it’s obvious that they too find these visits painful. It’s an emotional ball and chain to see you wither away into something different. Visits that used to be full of vibrant laughter and storytelling now consist mostly of their own updates and pleas for you to come outside. Each time you assure them that you will…soon.

It’s not a lie, at least not to you.

Despite the physical ache of your heart every time you think of Neteyam’s smiling face and the bond that is now nothing but dust between you, there is still hope in your heart. A hope that someday you will recover from these lovesick feelings and finally be able to look upon the Omatikaya prince as any other clan member would. Purpose will return to your everyday tasks and Neteyam will only reside in your mind as Olo’eyktan of the Omatikaya.

Still, you would be naive to ignore the weighted awareness of his presence that consumes you every time he comes to drop meals off. You can sense him before his footsteps are even audible. Occasionally, he will say a few encouraging words or promises of solution but some nights he simply places the food there and stares at it sadly before disappearing once more. Both instances strangle your heart in their grasp.

You thought that his scent would lessen once the bond was broken, but you figure it is alpha status to thank for always sending his essence of fresh pine through your hut at each visit. In some ways it feels like the only full breaths you took. The woven walls still allow air in, but only breezes warped with his scent remind you of being outside.

It’s on the two week mark that there is a shift in the miserable routine. No meal is brought to the entryway. Hours go by and Neteyam never comes by. You’ve been living off of those nightly meals and while one meal is not hardly enough to maintain a status of full health, its loss is even worse. At first, it appears that Neteyam has given up. He is tired of chasing after you and rightfully so you suppose. This is meant to be a step in the right direction, but you cry yourself to sleep that night. Apparently, your body had an extra storage of tears after all.

However, when it happens again, your theories start to change. A small slice of fruit is left outside on a leaf by the curtains in place of a meal. It’s delicious with juice squirting along your tongue in a dramatic symphony of taste. It’s the type of experience that leaves one wanting for more. Initially you are disappointed when the small piece is gone, but you remember where this food comes from. It would only take a five minute walk to approach the communal fire and snatch some away for yourself.

Only moments away from dipping outside that entry way for the first time in two weeks, you have another thought.

Neteyam only put one piece.

Would it not have been easier to leave a whole fruit rather than take the time to cut and separate one morsel of it onto a leaf as an offering.

It wasn’t an offering, it was an enticement.

You stay behind, trying to forget the sweet tang of the dessert.

Sure enough the suspicion is correct when the next night one piece of wrapped chocolate is left outside with a note.

Found this during the raid this week. There’s a whole bag left sitting in my hut. Let me know if you want some more.

-Neteyam

The chocolate is a tiny ball wrapped in a red textured material that is unfamiliar to Pandora. Chocolate is something you never knew of before Neteyam. However, now it has become one of your all time favorite delicacies, especially with the rarity of its availability. Neteyam took a great liking to showing you around the outpost and the stocked treasures they were stealing from the old Hell’s Gate post and the new trains they were constantly raiding. He would explain the random customs and stories of Sky People that he hears from his father while carefully unwrapping the delicious pieces for you.

Some days you would even have him read some of the English text, whether from the wrappers or other books that are kept around the outpost for the human scientists to enjoy at their leisure. You never understand a word of what he says, but the sounds are fascinating to hear in Neteyam’s familiar timber. Although the Mother Tongue of the Sky Demons, you’ve always been fascinated by Neteyam’s ability to speak it. Something very distinctly attractive about his extra abilities.

You sigh and thumb at the round ball of chocolate. It melts on your tongue, creating an explosion of sweet smooth sensations. Leave it to Neteyam to try and lure you out through your love of chocolate. That night you flatten out the wrapper, running your thumb over the English text that appears as nothing more than scribbles to you. It serves as a painful reminder of the golden memories the two of you have shared.

It remains clamped in your fist the entire day.

Heavy eyelids blinking open slowly, you can still feel the strange texture of that wrapper between your fingers. Contrary to your lack of activity, your body feels sore. Every muscle seems to be wound the wrong way and the air in your hut feels moist and stuffy. Stretching out, your foot hits the food supplies basket you keep and knocks it over. You stumble to put the object away, or rather you try to before you realize that it’s empty.

The last of your supplies is gone.

Regardless of your feelings and fears, you need to go outside today. It’s time to face the music.

Your toes curl and feet flex before carefully shifting to stand. Pushing aside clusters of baskets and tools you finally breach the front entryway of your hut. Expecting the air to have cooled down by now, your skin prickles strangely at the feeling of heat against your back. You rush to throw off whatever blanket or item of clothing that must have stuck to you but then your eyes are blinded. Sheer light invades your vision, drenching every sight in white.

Stumbling across the forest floor, it truly takes you more than a moment to understand what is happening. The harsh light, the foreign heat. This is sunlight.

A pure beam of sunlight that has not disappeared behind the moon yet.

Your delayed reaction finally allows you to search for the entryway and try to scramble towards safety but it’s impossible to see with the brightness of the world turned up to one hundred. Your eyes can’t manage to stay open for more than a second, each time feeling a burning sensation that is unbearable. Soon, though, it seems to be too late as your limbs grow heavy and your skin heats uncomfortably. Even when that last ray of sunshine disappears, your body continues to torment you with a rising heat.

The sensations become too much. The weight of your own head drags you down. The world spins around you in disorienting directions. Only a glimpse of blue skin is caught before you collapse into someone’s arms and the world turns blissfully black again.

“Move before I kick you out.” Mo’at warns, but her tone holds a morsel of sympathy despite the strict instruction.

You are laid out along the mat of her healer’s tent with half the Sully family gathered around. Neteyam can hardly keep his hands off of you, constantly checking to see if you have cooled down yet. Each time renders him disappointed, ears folding back against his head. Mo’at is quickly losing patience as she is constantly swatting the boy away in order to apply the series of healing balms.

“She’s burning up.” He protests, but finally moves out of her way. His idle hands find a new place along his knees where the blunt nails dig into his skin. Kiri and Tuk surround their brother but are careful to not impede too much on his space. His panicked dread rolls off of him in waves, a palpable tension that can be felt by everyone in the tent.

“How long was she exposed?”

“I don’t know. Can’t be more than a few minutes maybe. She was hardly past the entrance when I found her…I….is she going to be ok?” His voice cracks as tears finally well up over his golden orbs. Tuk places her small hand on his shoulder.

“Only the Great Mother knows that.” She pauses, looking up to see her grandson’s crumbling composure. “She is hot. Her temperature needs to drop significantly.”

The message doesn’t seem to settle on Neteyam. His gaze continues to focus on your unconscious face.

“Neteyam.” His head finally snaps up at his grandmother’s stern voice. “Go fetch me cold water from the river.” A basin is handed to the alpha but she can already tell there is reluctance in his expression.

“Now.” It’s harsher than Mo’at would like to be but she knows that getting the concerned alpha outside of the tent is essential for her to complete the healing rituals. His presence is a distraction that has her own emotions tugging her away from the work at hand.

Neteyam purses his lips and sends one last glance towards you. He cradles your cheek and leans down to softly press a kiss to your forehead, whispering promises to return. Then finally, he rushes out of the tent, driven by the given task.

The hours rush and drag simultaneously for Neteyam. It becomes difficult to believe that it has already been a full twenty four hours and yet every minute that your eyes are not open feels like a year to him. Jake recruits Norm and some of the other scientists to take a look at you in the outpost. Moat is naturally displeased by the change at first but even she can’t deny that the old metal portable is a safer place for you to hide from the sun. Thick blankets and rugs are hung over the windows to keep the rays of sunshine out.

Between the expertise of the scientists with their modern technology and the healing powers of Tsahik, things begin to look grim when there is little to no change in your state. Neteyam becomes increasingly more tense with every passing hour that yields no result. At some point his family stops trying to convince him to take breaks. Tuk takes it upon herself to gather and deliver a good serving from the communal fire for her older brother at every meal.

Kiri is constantly teetering between helping her grandmother wrap cooling salves of thick leaves on your skin and foraging through the forest for different materials that could be used to create various healing ointments.

Lo’ak tries to provide his brother with some pleasant company. If not that, then at least an annoying younger brother that can keep his mind off the matter for a few minutes. He tells jokes and shares random stories, usually featuring young alphas and the things their idiotic pride leads them to do. He has a plethora of these events saved up, having been training the new batch of future warriors almost daily. Those stories shift to other couples’ drama and fights when Neteyam laments over the past few weeks, assuring his brother that rough patches are normal in relationships and that perhaps he is not the worst skxawng to be found in the forest.

Jake and Neytiri watch the scene with sorrowful eyes, discussing in the privacy of their home what needs to be done for their son and you.

At hour thirty six, you begin to squirm. Every muscle seems to creek with each movement, seemingly as rusty and worn as the door to the outpost that takes an extra shove to open. It’s the burning heat that you notice next. It seems to travel along your veins and cover you in a suffocating cloud. It brings on feelings of almost claustrophobic symptoms.

Finally, the flutter of your lashes reveal your golden eyes to the synthetic lighting of the outpost makeshift hospital wing. Only one electric light is turned on down the hallway. The rest of the ambience comes from lit candles scattering the surfaces around you. Their flicker is soft and soothing, but it’s the familiar scent of timber and pine that has your muscles finally relaxing.

The surface beneath your head is cool to the touch, you rub your cheek against it.

“Tanhi.”

That soft makeshift pillow is his thigh. Your already burning cheeks seem to reach new levels of inflamed rose color as you drowsily look up at him.

“You’re awake.” His voice is thick with emotion, almost choking the sounds from his throat. On its own volition your hand shakily reaches up to swipe away the tear traveling down his cheek. His skin is cool to the touch, such a different contrast to the usual warmth that you remember radiating off of him in your nights together. Your thin arm shakes from the strain of holding it upwards, he grabs your wrist gently and reluctantly helps you lower it back to your side.

“Yes.” The sound comes out more hoarse and gravelly than you anticipated. You clear your throat before continuing. “How long have I been out?”

“Over a day.”

A few moments of sunlight and suddenly a day and a half has been taken from you. It’s a lot to process, especially with the hazy pounding assaulting your head with every moment. The usual strength and energy in your body seems to have greatly dissipated, leaving you feeling as nothing but a shell of your normal self. Your attempt at sitting up is not only hindered by the strain of your abs but also cut short by Neteyam’s large hands gently pushing you back down.

“No no Tanhi, just rest. Don’t strain yourself.” It’s too easy to settle your head back onto his welcoming lap. A small voice at the back of your head warns you of reversing all the progress that has been made, but it seems insignificant when Neteyam begins to tenderly brush his fingers through your hair. Nothing can take away the ache of your body and heat of your blood boiling but his touch does finally stir your heartbeat into a steady rhythm. It’s as if a weight is lifted off of you as your senses become filled with his essence. Every point of contact between you is like fire and ice. He is the ice that you welcome greatly, the only thing that seems to relieve the burning along your skin.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper, eyes almost closed once more.

“Whatever for, love?”

“I don’t mean to trouble you. I should’ve been more diligent, tracking the sun’s cycle..” Your lungs seize into a painful invisible grip, forcing a coughing fit to begin. Neteyam is quick to shush your sentence away and help you get some cool water down. His large hand rests over the heat of your forehead. The eldest Sully frowns down at you, no doubt still feeling the evidence of your raging fever.

“Hush, Tanhi. There’s no place I would rather be right now.”

You watch the shadows dance across lines of his collarbones and sharp features as he prepares another cool wrap to lay across your forehead. The grip you have on conscious thought is weak, but even at your mental peak you are sure that there is nothing more beautiful than the man above you. His harsh and sharp features that frame those kind and insightful eyes. He has an ethereal beauty that has always captured you.

“You’re going to be ok.” It’s unclear whether or not the sentiment is meant for you or rather himself. His hairless brows pinch into those familiar clenched lines. You recognize them from days he would come home to, the evidence of his still racing thoughts clearly etched into his features.

Through the constant ache of your body and heat that tries to lure you to sleep, it takes you a moment to recognize the pheromones drifting off of him. You’re surprised to find that you can still identify the shift of emotions through his essence. Supposedly your sense of smell is better than you thought for a beta. The curling sadness and anxiety that comes off of him in waves, however, is something you wish could not be so easily detected. It is foreign and strange when mixed with his calming perfume. Neteyam isn’t usually one easily frazzled.

Neteyam settles a clear plastic over your mouth and it takes a moment before you recognize it as the Avatar oxygen masks. The air filtered through it is clearer and more readily accepted by your lungs. After a few breaths you nod at him and he pulls it away again.

Silence ensues. You yearn to break it with some semblance of an apology or explanation, but the words never come. Your body has other ideas as it drifts in and out of consciousness. Several times you wake to see another member of the Sully family perched next to Neteyam. However, the oldest Sully child never leaves. The hold you have on time becomes almost nonexistent as you slip back and forth between reality and fever induced dreams.

Eventually you begin to wake periodically in Neteyam’s arms, head laying on his chest or coddled in his lap. Each time you consider saying something, knowing that he is no longer your mate. You have no claim on him and therefore no right to use him in this way, but his skin is cool and calms the sizzling heat upon your own. The very idea of creating distance between you two causes a spike of anxiety to take hold.

It would be all too easy to blame this on your fever and the aid he provides, even in your state of watered down thought you know the truth. There is a yearning to be close to him again. To feel the gentle caresses that line your lips and cheeks as you sleep. To fall into a fantasy where the two of you never split, convincing yourself that today is simply a small sick day where your mate pampers you. The natural instincts of your beta nature furthermore aches for the calming presence of an alpha. Even the simple actions of his rising and falling chest that contains a steady heartbeat lulles your nature into a submissive calm.

It is such a dramatic contrast to the empty abyss that has replaced your heart over the past few weeks. Falling into Neteyam feels natural, as expected as the waves that crash against the shore. It’s an ironic feeling to have considering the most inconvenient and problematic characteristics of your relationship. He was never meant to be yours.

You chant those words in your head, willing them to echo true.

This time, your eyes flutter lazily open to the feeling of his slim tail wrapping itself around your upper thigh. With creaky drowsiness you look up to find him fast asleep, lips parted softly with shallow breaths escaping soundlessly. Sprawled across him, head on his chest, this position resembles that of your usual sleeping position together. Or at least, what it used to be. Before the first cracks of dawn you would slip back into the tent and gently fall into his dozing embrace. It was not uncommon to find his tail slink around one of your limbs possessively all while never stirring from his unconscious state.

Looking around the dingy outpost, it’s just the two of you. The plastic material of the mask around your neck feels uncomfortable around your heated skin. You find a matching one around Neteyam’s own throat. Although showing no signs of struggling breathing, you gently place it against his lips. When the clear oxygen filtered through his lips, Neteyam stirs.

You contemplate faking sleep when his ears twitch and eyes slowly open, but they immediately land on you.

“Yawne.” Neteyam groans, voice thick with sleep. The deep rumble of his morning voice always makes your stomach do somersaults. “How are you feeling, Tanhi?”

His ears pin back when you veer away from his efforts to cup your cheek.

“A bit better.” Your arms tremble as they push against Neteyam pectorals to try and sit up properly. Despite his gentle protests, you finally manage to remain upright for the first time in days. The room spins around you. It’s only by the grace of Neteyam’s hands supporting your back that you remain sitting. “What time is it?”

It feels like night but then again the heavy blankets over the outpost windows would show no indication of broad daylight if present.

“Middle of the night.”

“Then I should go.” Your feet are barely planted on the ground before Neteyam is pulling you back into his arms.

“You don’t really think I’m going to let you out there in this condition, do you?” His chest rumbles with a stern timber, but his hold is tender and gentle. You are tempted to roll your eyes at the protective behavior, but you’re worried that doing so would put the room back into orbit again.

“You need rest.”

“I can rest at home.”

“Like hell you will.” Neteyam scoffs, using another phrase he so commonly picks up from his father. You can practically feel the protective growl that yearns to climb up his throat, but a sigh comes out in its place. “You’re shaking, Tanhi. Let me take care of you.”

His knuckles graze your cheek delicately, sending a cool shiver along your shoulders.

“I don’t think that is a good idea.”

Neteyam’s hand stills before dropping heavily to his lap. The heated breath coming from his lips tickles at the back of your neck. Were it not for your already trembling form you are sure that his presence alone would erupt goosebumps and shivers along your body. The pressing weight of silence is dizzying, tempting you to lay back down. You can practically hear the cogs in his head turning at a rapid pace.

“Please just hear me out for a moment.”

Turning around to face him takes more effort than you would like to admit. Seeing those sad golden eyes without melting takes even more.

“Five minutes is all I ask.” You hesitate, biting your bottom lip. “And if by the end of it you are sick of hearing from me then I promise I will leave you alone. My grandmother will take over caring for you and I will…respect your wishes.” His words are strangled, that suffocating dread pulling his features into a deep frown.

“Ok.”

The shimmer of hope is barely visible in his shining eyes but it still wrenches your heart.

“My entire life has been about being Olo’eyktan. I’ve watched my father lead the people since I could barely walk and since then I have always known that someday that would be me. I wake up every day and the first thought that comes to mind is what needs to be done in order to become the mighty leader that everyone expects me to be. For a long time I’ve thought that my path was already decided by Eywa. Find an omega suitable of being tsahik, settle down with her, and lead till my son can take over. I was ok with that, I’d accepted my fate.” Neteyam shifts to his knees, fingernails digging slightly into his own thighs. Apprehension spoils his scent, creating a new mixture you are unfamiliar with. It’s then that you realize you’ve never seen Neteyam nervous before.

“Then I met you.”

Your eyes dart to the laminate floor.

“I…I’m usually a lot better with words.” He chuckles nervously while rubbing the back of his neck. “It occurred to me recently that I’ve been negligent in our relationship. I never truly explained why I chose you. Why you are the person I can’t live without. Perhaps if I had we wouldn’t be in this situation now.”

“Neteyam it’s not-”

“Please let me finish, Tanhi.”

You nod softly, careful to not increase the already blooming headache pounding at your skull.

“I’ve never met anyone like you.” A weak snort transforms into a cough raking up your throat. “I don’t mean because of ailment, yawne.” He clarifies and you suddenly feel embarrassed for assuming so quickly. Neteyam pauses his little speech to reach behind and once again carefully bring a cup of water to your parched lips. Gratefully, you let the cool substance slink down your throat to soothe the scratchy ache.

Once he seems to be sure that another fit is not about to come on, Neteyam continues.

“You have this unyielding spirit, determined to forage through any storm. Eywa herself puts you in the shadows and you conquer the terrain. The air around you hums with a quiet confidence that is…” He searches for the right word. “Intoxicating.”

A laugh escapes your lips and yet you feel nothing resembling humor. Your hairless eyebrows scrunch in disbelief. Neteyam shows no acknowledgment of your reaction as he instead puts the mask back against your mouth.

“I’ve been drawn to you since that first night hunt. Surely, that isn’t a secret.” He laughs into his own mask that is raised to his lips. If only he knew how oblivious you were to his intentions those first few weeks. “You’re fiercely determined and independent yet hold a gentle empathy and kindness for those around you that I could only ever hope to imitate. And stubborn too.” Neteyam chuckles with a shake of his head. “Fucking stubborn enough to tell a dumb alpha like me off, consequences be damned.”

Your lungs can only manage a simple huffed laugh, but the corners of your lips are already turning upwards subconsciously.

“When I’m around you,” His eyes pierce through you. “I can finally bear that weighted pressure of expectations on my chest. You make it light.” Neteyam leans forward and tucks a stray strand of hair behind your upturned ear. “My little star.”

Your cheeks are damp and it is only then that you realize tears drops have been escaping your eyes. Neteyam thumbs them away with tender care.

“I’ve grown accustomed to sacrificing whatever it takes to become Olo’eyktan. I’ve written my life off as not my own. I’ve given everything I can and could in order to fulfill this role. You are the only thing that I can not sacrifice. And maybe that is selfish of me, but I also know that without you I’m simply a shell of the man I am with you.”

“I could never be Olo’eyktan without you by my side.”

“But how am I supposed to be beside you when I can’t even step a foot into the sun without falling apart at the seams?”

“You truly think that I haven’t thought about that, yawne?” Neteyam’s lips quirk into an amused smile. “I guess now would be a good time to tell you that Lo’ak and I have been building a black out healers tent.” You gape at him. “I wanted it to be a surprise. I suppose I should’ve known better than to think I could pull one over on you.”

It’s foolish, you tell yourself. Another darkened tent doesn’t solve all of the problems. It doesn’t erase the strain this relationship would have on Neteyam or allow you to operate during the daytime hours, unless you are content to remain in the tent for all of your days. And yet, there is a sliver of hope growing in your bosom.

“Nete, I don’t know what to say.” His braids swing over the intense eyes that focus on your every move. He’s tense, ready to jump in at the notice of resistance. “But, I can’t live my life in a dark tent.”

“Of course not. I’m talking about a compromise. Lo’ak, he takes over in the mornings while you and I start the day in the midafternoons. Tsahik duties in the tent for a few hours and then the rest of the night spent together. Leading together. Hunting together.” The dopey grin that spreads upon his lips is fiercely adamant in capturing your heart once more. It takes everything in you to not reach out and pinch the mighty warrior’s cheek. A notion Neteyam is known to reprimand with a playful glare.

“You make it sound so simple.” It’s too much to meet his gaze. You prefer the view of the worn down tiles as you take another calming breath from the mask. The pace of your heart is evermore increasing and part of you wonders if this conversation has the ability to make you faint.

A hand beneath your chin gently prods you to look back up again. He whispers your name, soft but clear in the quiet outpost.

“We have a choice.”

The words weigh heavy in the air, drawing your ears to perk forward in anticipation.

“I know that may sound like a lie to you. However, if there is anyone that understands their life being determined from birth, it’s you. You and I have been pushed and kept into our respective boxes, taught to dream of only the realistic paths ahead of us.”

You wish to say it’s untrue, but any other reality has been stripped away from you from your first breath and morphed into only that of fairy tales.

“We get to choose whether or not we believe that. I’ve accepted my destiny, Tanhi, but I can not bring myself to see my journey walking besides anyone that’s not you. I’ve already chosen. You are what I will not sacrifice.” Neteyam’s calloused fingers weave into your hair, hands on the sides of your head.

“It’s your turn, Tanhi. What do you choose?”

“Is that your definition of fumbling words?” Your chuckle is choked with tears. Neteyam’s short laughter joins your own, his lips already starting to spread into that smile you adore so much.

The past few weeks have been a constant building of that fortress around your heart. You’ve tried to convince yourself over and over again that the two of you parting ways is for the best. These mantras have ripped your heart out and left you in a state of empty sadness, but they also have created a sturdy wall, one that is hard to crumble. Naturally, it is Neteyam that ever stands a chance at breaking through. Sweet Neteyam that knows you so thoroughly that he doesn’t require brute force to get through, he finds a hold from the inside, reading you like a book until there is nothing left for you to hide.

This experience has been a draining uphill battle, but one that you have embarked on because you’ve been convinced that the right thing to do is often the hard thing. However, now, the story shifts. You are left wondering if perhaps this whole time, running away is not the hard thing at all. It’s staying that proves to be the most difficult battle to fight. It’s staying that requires your heart to be opened and at the mercy of failure and disappointment. Leaving Neteyam isn’t the noble cause you once thought it to be.

It’s hiding.

“You really have some nerve calling me stubborn.” You try to joke, but tears are already cascading down your cheeks at an alarming rate and you can tell Neteyam is seconds away from scooping you back into his lap.

“Well I admit being stubborn has its reward sometimes.” He quirks an eyebrow at you. “Perhaps it’s paid off for me this time?”

“Perhaps.” You smile coyly at him. It takes bracing a stabilizing hand against the floor to stop yourself from falling over when you lean forward but it’s worth the exhilarating feeling of his lips against yours once more.

Neteyam is cautious and gentle, moving his lips softly in sync with yours, but you can feel the restraint it takes for him not to swallow you whole. However, you are still healing so Neteyam treats you the way you expect any alpha to: like a delicate flower. Your own tears wet the canvas of both of your cheeks and it takes a moment to realize that small droplets are falling from Neteyam’s eyes too.

The kiss is warm and tender. Relief washes through your body in a wave that makes you realize how much pain you truly were in. How even the very bones in your body finally lose their ache when Neteyam slips an arm around your back to bring you closer.

You’re forced to break the kiss earlier than desired as Neteyam can feel the way your body lags to get air into its lungs. The soft pants that leave your lips are soon encased by the mask that the alpha slips over your mouth once more. The warmth of his gaze beaming down on you spreads across your chest and lights another fire along your skin.

“Come home, Neteyam.” You whisper softly. His forehead leans against your own, those golden orbs still shimmering with unshed tears.

“Always, Tanhi.”

The hours float by in a happily dazed dream afterwards. Neteyam’s touch starved state comes fully into the light as he is constantly keeping a point of contact between you two. It’s obvious that his alpha hindbrain has gone off the wall after being apart for so long and furthermore trying to care for you without going too far. Now that the green light has been given, Neteyam is constantly wrapping his body around your own smaller form till you are almost completely encapsulated by him.

Truthfully, you have no objections. In fact, even your own instincts push you towards readily accepting and initiating any forms of affectionate touch. It further helps that Neteyam’s skin is cool to the touch in comparison to your own raging feverish skin.

Within half a day your wellbeing has greatly increased after the constant nurturing of your overprotective alpha, who seems to be constantly slipping water, food, medicine, or mask given air past your lips. Mo’at is greatly pleased when your temperature begins to return back to its former state and there is a greater strength present in your body. Still, she instructs you to lay low for another day as a precaution.

Neteyam is more than happy to keep you to himself for another day. Watching you come close to the brink of death has his primal urges dialed to eleven. You have to scold him every now and then when his younger brother comes to visit and Neteyam thanks him with an aggressive hiss and tucking you safely into his arms and away from the ‘threat’.

It’s borderline shocking to see his strong reactions considering the severed bond between the two of you. That is, until you find the truth.

“I admit, it might’ve been selfish Tanhi but I couldn’t bring myself to cut our tie before knowing that I had tried everything possible to get you back.”

He had looked up at you with a guilty composure but after everything the two of you had been through you couldn’t hide your relief and joy in finding out that this bond had still survived the heartache. It also provides a greater explanation to your own body's willingness to melt into him with or without a resolution. Now, though, you are content to let him have his fun babying you for one day more and revill in the renewed connection the two of you share.

This time when you awake in the newly hung hammock inside of the outpost (Neteyam had used every angle possible to convince the human scientists to let him temporarily take up the space) you’re surprised to find your mate’s skin hot against your own. His thumping heartbeat rickets in your eardrums but instead of rocking you to sleep, the sound sends shivers down your spine.

Neteyam is blissfully unaware of your consciousness as your own heart starts to speed up. Shifting your leg, it’s a surprise to feel a sticky texture lining the inside of your loincloth. Blood rushes to your cheeks when you realize the source of this substance. Bashfully you’re relieved to see Neteyam is still asleep, allowing your arousal to remain a private humiliation.

With the cautiousness of a sneaking Palulukan, you attempt rolling off of the hammock and out of his arms to take care of your little problem. It’s only halfway rolling over to your side when the Omatikaya prince shifts and spoons you from behind. All plans are immediately thwarted when his muscular thigh slips between your splayed legs innocently. However, the pressure it incidentally puts against your clit brings forth feelings that are anything but innocent.

A veiny forearm easily clamps around your waist to pull you back against his chest. The act rubs his thighs against your clothed folds so suddenly, that it brings a whimpered moan from your lips. Breath hitched in your throat, you wait to see if Neteyam stirs. He shows no sign of waking so you try to scoot your heated core away from his thigh slyly.

Not only are these efforts unrewarded but also bring a tinge of sadness coursing through you. It’s a strange wave of emotion that follows. Arousal quickly windles into full blown desperation within a few heartbeats. The sensations are overpowering, racing through every surface of your body until all that your mind can focus on is the need to be filled by a mate.

Filled by Neteyam.

“Oh Great Mother.” You curse quietly.

Your first heat.

A momentous milestone that your parents have talked to you in great lengths about yet still brings nothing to light on the reality of the experience. You’ve had smaller mini episodes of heat, normal in the beginning of adulthood for Na’vi betas, but it’s only a laughable comparison to the clawing desire taking over your body currently. As a beta you figured that your own heats would be miniscule compared to the laborious heats that plague omegas earlier in their years.

Involuntarily rocking your clothed core against Neteyam’s thigh you now wonder how these Na’vi have ever survived such a demanding lust and lived to tell the tale. And that is what it feels like. Death if not satisfied. Pain if not satiated.

Embarrassment is thrown out the window in favor of creating a pleasurable friction against your clit. Hardly ever having experienced touching yourself on the rare occasion, you have no idea what to do. The corded muscle of his relaxed thigh feels better than your usual small fingerings drumming against the bundle of nerves, so you continue to rock back in a desperate rhythm.

The hammock starts to sway softly with your jutting hips. Some movements are rewarded with a spark of pleasure, only to then be absent on the next rock of your hips. Frustration is quick to brew as you can’t seem to find the right angle and pressure against your core. Shiny slick drenches through the thin fabric and onto the alpha’s thigh. It acts as a lubricant for your journey across his skin, allowing a faster pace to be adopted.

Your pussy clenches around open air, beckoning for a worthy mate to finally fill and claim you properly. It’s an emptiness that you can only compare to the tingling you have experienced after especially long makeout sessions with Neteyam, but it’s worse. So much worse that it brings tears to your eyes. The only relief is found when a lucky thrust finally has the fabric pushed away from your core and lets your small clit peek out and press against his azure skin.

Now without any barriers, pure ecstasy wracks through your body. It only amplifies when the muscles flex slightly beneath you, giving just the right amount of pressure against your clit. A knot forms and tightens in your stomach, quickly winding until it feels as if it’s about to snap. It feels almost dirty to realize that your slick has now coated the entirety of Neteyam’s thigh all while he is sleeping and yet it lures you further into a state of arousal than you have ever been before.

Your own thighs clench harshly around Neteyam’s to trap it against your core. A release clear on the horizon, every effort is put into maintaining that delicious sensation of your clit being assaulted against the muscle. Legs shaking and small squeaks erupting from your throat you chase that feeling relentlessly.

“Cum, Tanhi.”

Neteyam’s raspy voice pushes you over the edge with a shocked gasp. His rumbling growl of satisfaction seems to pulse through you in sync with the overwhelming sensations of an orgasm.

“Good girl.” He praises as your body trembles in the afterglow of release. Neteyam chuckles when a simple flex of his thighs has a whimper spilling your lips. Swirling patterns are drawn by the alpha’s fingers along your sides and arms.

Mental clarity returns in a flash, allowing the reality of the situation to sink in. You hide your heated face against his arm underneath your head while groaning in humiliation.

“Nete.” You whine.

“Hush, baby girl. It’s alright, no reason to get all shy on me now.” He coos while swiping your hair away from your cheek to finally have an unobscured view of your blushing face. “Especially not when you make such pretty noises.”

The words crumble any wall of resistance against the impending heat. Your body yearns for another release, still screaming at you for not being filled with your alpha’s cock yet. A cock that you can feel hardening beneath Neteyam’s loincloth and poking at your lower back.

“Neteyam, it really hurts.”

“I know, Tahini, I know.” He soothes, softly kissing your temple while brushing the strands of hair away. “My poor little star. A bit stronger than you expected, hm?”

When his thigh finally shifts away from your leaking pussy, despite the strength of your clamped legs, a noise of disappointment escapes you.

“So much worse. Neteyam please!” It’s hard to say what you are begging for specifically, but the alpha is quick to calm your worries with sweet nothings. Your limbs kick out and try to wind around any of his, subconsciously finding ways to trap his body closer to yours.

“If you want help, all you have to do is say, yawne. I know how to take care of my girl.” He turns you by the chin to make direct eye contact with him, a silent second measure to make sure this is truly what you desire. Hesitating is far from your mind as you nod and whine out little pleas.

Satisfied with your consent Neteyam grins and begins to descend down your body. Confusion swirls in your eyes when he situates your legs over his shoulders. The sex talk from your parents may not have been that descriptive but you know enough to realize that his cock is nowhere near your drenched entrance.

“How does that…” You trail off, head tilted to the side.

“Just need to get your ready first, Tanhi. Want my baby girl to feel good.” Pointed teeth poke out beneath his lips in his open mouth grin. The pads of his fingers tenderly brush and tease along your outer thighs, slowly making their way to your inner. Tingles of anticipation and pleasure trickle up your body. It boggles you how such a light tracing heightens your lust to new levels.

“How?”

His face softens and Neteyam coos at you while tucking a strand behind your ear.

“Just trust me, little star. I promise you’ll like it.”

So you do, even when his face lowers to your partly clothed mound. Neteyam’s nose presses against your pussy and he sucks in air like a man on the brink of drowning. Your cheeks set aflame at having his face so close to your special place, something you had never considered before. The rumble of power in his hungry growl, however, washes away any insecurity that would plague your mind.

“Smell so delicious, Tanhi.” He purrs.

Neteyam’s creates a path of wet kisses along your inner thighs. Careful grips on your knees allow him to maneuver your legs into whatever profane position he desires, easy access for his eager tongue and lips. His saliva and your slick become intermixed along the expanse of skin as he takes his time warming you up. Each time his lips come closer to your folds, you whimper needily. Heated lust entraps every thought you have, wondering how long it will be until the two of you finally become one.

The first nips at your left inner thigh causes you to jump. His eyes look back up at you as the pointed tips of those canines teasingly scrape against your soft skin.

“Just a little taste, yawne?” He asks, although the smirk along his lips suggests that it is less of a question and rather a warning.

“A bite? T-there?”

Neteyam chuckles at your clueless behavior. It’s been known among Na’vi to leave obvious hickeys and bites along one’s mate’s skin, but you’ve always assumed that to only be in places more visible and less…private. Your tail swishes anxiously as you think of those marks being so close to your heated entrance.

“Yes, baby girl. A little mark to remember me by, hm?”

A simple nod of your head is all the permission required for Neteyam to continue. He takes one last breath from the hanging mask before picking a spot on your inner thigh where the flesh is supple and tender, licking and kissing and the area in preparation. When his lips close around the plush skin and begin to suck, it sends tendrils of electricity straight to your core. Without even thinking you moan and grab at his hair. You’re stuck between the urge to push his head away and encourage him to suck harder.

Once released, the skin is left with a pronounced purple mark. One lick is deposited on the spot before his teeth nip and tug at the skin. You squeal and arch your back dramatically, Neteyam moans darkly he has let it fall from between his teeth and begin to soothe the skin with kisses and licks. The entire act scratches a part of your brain that is primal, satisfied by the apparent claim he leaves for all to see.

“Much better.” His tone drips with pride. “Thank you, Tanhi.” He kisses your knee in gratitude, as if you have given him some sacred gift, and perhaps for him that is true.

It’s only now that it occurs to you how many times Neteyam has held back from staking his claim on you the way most alphas do. You vaguely remember the indented mark of his own teeth against his bottom lip that would draw blood, especially after you have shared an intimate moment or he saw another male eyeing you for too long. What you had originally shrugged off as a habit now transforms in your mind as an act of self control.

Neteyam is quick but deliberate with his handy work of undoing the ties around your tail and hips. He slides the fabric away from your pelvis with an attitude of reverence. Cool air against your slick folds feels like a tickling touch that has your lust spiking dramatically. Burning eyes on your most sensitive area is like gasoline to the flames.

You attempt to clench your thighs together to protect your dignity, but Neteyam hoists them apart and back on his shoulders sternly.

“None of that, baby girl. Let me see how pretty you are.”

And there’s something in that phrase and his undivided attention that makes your toes curl. It becomes blatantly obvious that if he doesn’t hurry up and get on with sticking his cock inside your pussy, you will fall apart at the seams before there is even a chance.

“Neteyam, I’m ready. Please please I’m so ready.” You ramble, willing your legs apart to prepare easier access. Once he is inside everything will be better, although the thought of your virgin walls stretching around him causes a slight tinge of panic to break loose.

“Mawey, my love. It’s about to get good.”

However, frustration and confusion bubble to the surface again when you see his face lowering back down.

“No no, Nete. Enough kisses.” You whine. “I need you inside.”

His brows push up at that, the corners of his lips perking slightly as if hesitant to fully grin.

“Are you sure, my love? We can still wait if you wa-”

“NO! No more waiting! I’m ready now. I need you right now.”

He calls your name softly, but with a hint of unyielding sternness that lets you know it is important you listen. Even a beta can sense when the time to obey is present.

“You’re heat is a very powerful thing but also fleeting, Tanhi. I don’t want you to make such a big decision purely because of your primal instincts.” It’s a respectful and considerate gesture but your head is shaking before he is even close to finishing. If this man does not take you now, you’re ready to flip him over and sit on his member, inexperience be damned.

“It’s not. I’ve been ready for weeks. W-was just waiting to tell you. Take me now, stick it in now.” The ringing in your ears, you realize is actually the accelerated blood thumping along the eardrums from your racing heart. It feels as if the speed will be enough to burst your ribcage open. “I’m ready.”

Neteyam watches as your eyes clench shut and hands scrape against the woven material of the hammock. You’re braced and ready for the pain that will ensue upon penetration.

“Tahni,” Your eyes slowly peek open to see that the alpha hasn’t moved a muscle. “You love me, don’t you?”

The question throws you off guard, but the answer comes easily.

“Of course.”

“And you know that I love you?”

“Yes Neteyam.” Your hips scoot against the fabric, pussy fluttering as it continues to wait for the incoming sensation.

“And you trust me?”

“Always, Nete.”

The alpha hums happily at your response, muttering out a deep ‘good girl’.

“Then I need you to trust that I know what I’m doing, baby girl. Trust that your alpha will take care of you.” He tenderly brushes his fingers over your soft stomach. “And trust me enough to say if or when something doesn’t feel good.”

You nod hazily, keenly aware of the tickling sensation of his touch along your hips.

“That’s my good girl. Now let me get you ready.”

It’s still confusing when you see his head lower towards your navel once more, but you don’t protest this time. He’s right, you do trust him and he does have far more experience with sex than you by far. Your upturned legs are spread even wider by his broad shoulders as he leans closer and lets the tips of his tongue drag over you from belly button to navel. The saliva line goes down further and further until…oh.

It takes his grip on your hips to keep them pressed against the hammock when his tongue brushes over your clit for the first time. It’s a pleasure that is completely foreign to you. Comparable to the spark of dopamine that comes from your small finger teasing the area and yet completely different in intensity. He draws sensual figure eights along the bundle of nerves several times before swooping down to collect more of your arousal between your folds.

Neteyam is calculated with his exploring, performing in the way of someone who has crafted their art. When his tongue just barely swipes across your entrance your hands fly down to grasp his braids again. This time, however, the only thought on your mind is keeping him down there. His flat nose nudges at your clit with every swipe of his tongue along your pussy.

“Oh my Eywa!” You screech as that knot is quickly being tied again in your stomach.

Neteyam on the other hand becomes focused on another knot, tugging at the twine holding your top in place while still working on your pussy with zealous excitement. With your aid, the dangling top is released and falls to the side. His assault on your pussy pauses for him to trail upwards and lick along your quickly hardening peaks.

“So pretty, Tanhi.” He murmurs against your right nipple before taking it into his mouth and sucking. Meanwhile his fingers have taken the place of his tongue and expertly rub your clit. “My pretty little star.”

Gleeful pride twinkles in his eyes as he looks up at you, a string of saliva connecting his lips to your chest. Your small hands grapple at any part of him you can reach, finding purchase on his flexed bicep that holds himself over you.

The connecting lines of your thoughts are tangled into a ball of messy hunger and desperation. Never in your wildest dreams would you have imagined such strange things to be so exhilarating. A part of you wonders what else was not included in that sex talk.

His head is found back between your legs again once your nipples are red and pointed proudly. Neteyam licks, nips and sucks at your pussy like a starved man. Every moan of pleasure releases vibrations that sky rockets through you. It becomes too much to handle. You’ve never felt more fragile in your entire life than when his eyes connect with yours, one eye winking at you, and you fall apart.

Neteyam’s moan while licking up the white substance pouring from you goes completely unnoticed as the world around you spins and your ears ring. The gravity of this orgasm shakes you to the bones, floodgates of pleasure completely open in your brain.

Although it feels as if Pandora has slipped out from beneath you, the recovery from this release is swift. Your skin prickles with goosebumps and your pussy hungrily clenches around open air once more. It seems that the monster of a heat inside you grows more insatiable with every second. So when Neteyam covers one finger in the remnants of your juices and starts to prod at your entrance, you’re relieved.

“You’re doing so good, baby girl. This may feel strange at first, but let me know if it hurts too much.” It’s hard to focus on anything else besides the shiny slick that still coats his chin as he looks at you, but you manage a nod.

It does feel strange at first, your walls incredibly tight. Getting down to the first knuckle is easy but going towards the second proves to feel a little more strained. Regardless, you are happy to find that getting one finger inside is nothing near as painful as expected. Neteyam wiggles the digit and it makes you twitch. Such a strange sensation to be filled but, the longer he twists and curls his finger, the more you find yourself enjoying it.

“How does that feel, yawne?”

“F-fine…a little strange.”

Neteyam chuckles.

“I know. My girl’s pretty pussy is so tight.” It’s the pride and adoration in his voice that melts you from the inside out. The muscles of your cunt relax against him as he starts to slide another finger in.

This stretch takes a little more time, effort, and praise from your alpha but otherwise it’s smooth sailing. He scissors and stretches your walls with due diligence, even as the dark pupils of his eyes overtake the gold color. By the third finger, you’re clawing at his braced forearm and begging for his cock. Neteyam doesn’t immediately give in, reminding you of the importance of being stretched out for him. Frustrated by his noble intentions, you aren’t beyond playing dirty.

“Alpha please! Need your cock so bad, it hurts. Feel so empty.” The begging turns into sweet tones of whimpers. You can see the shift of his muscles as they tense. His pheromones take on a stronger hue, one that surrounds you like a cloud. Your small hand reaches down for him, fingers grasping in open air. Neteyam is quick to use the hand not half way up your pussy to hold your own, looking up at you. “You said you’d take care of me, alpha.”

Perhaps in a situation not distorted by desperate lust and the sweet scent of your erotic perfume Neteyam would be tempted to put you over his knees for trying to manipulate him, but the clenching of your velvet walls around his fingers is enough to keep him focused on being balls deep inside of you instead. You can see the moment that his resolve crumbles to ashes, it’s accentuated by a deep growl and narrowed eyes.

You watch with hungry eyes as Neteyam hastily claws at the strings of his loincloth. It’s a wonder that it doesn’t rip underneath his harsh fingers but it finally falls away and your pupils dilate at the sight. His length stands heavily against his stomach, curving slightly under its own weight. Saliva gathers in your mouth as you observe the freckled stars that glow under the dim light of the room and scatter over his shaft till reaching the tip. A bead of precum is settled there and for the first time, you understand the desire to put your mouth in such sinful places.

Neteyam preens under your awed attention, his hindbrain purring in delight at seeing his little mate impressed with what he has to offer. His grin widens when he notices your hand hesitantly reaching towards it. You stop, however, before getting to touch.

“It’s ok, Tanhi. You can touch.” The three fingers leave your entrance with a squelching sound. Neteyam confidently keeps eye contact while licking the digits clean with a soft purr, then that large hand is wrapping around your own and leading you towards his twitching member.

Even with Neteyam’s guidance, you’re unable to wrap the entirety of his width in your grip, but he doesn’t appear to be bothered by it. In fact, a devious spark lights in his smile as he watches you struggle to hold it. Although, you will probably never admit it outside of heat, you too enjoy the dramatic size difference between the two of you. On more than one occasion you have let your arousal ruin your loincloth just from having his large body completely wrapped around your own, tucking you away so easily.

A small gasp leaves your throat when his cock twitches in your hand. Neteyam can’t keep his cooing laughter in as he pets affectionately at your hair. He pauses to take a breath from the mask while still smirking.

“You see what you do to me, baby girl?”

The taste of iron erupts in your mouth and it is only then that you realize you’ve been crushing your bottom lips between sharp teeth.

“Is it…uncomfortable?” It feels silly to be so bashful after having his lips along your pussy moments earlier, but you can’t help but keep your voice down to a whisper. You thank the Great Mother for the privacy that the scientists have allowed the two of you over the past few days. There would be no recovery for your dignity if they were to walk in on this scene. Heat or not, being whiny and oblivious is embarrassing.

“Hm, sometimes my love. If relief is not given.” He guides your thumb to run over the head. “Mostly it gets my thoughts traveling to tempting places. Imagining all the different ways I can have you laid out for me.” The weight of your eyelids seem to increase with every word he speaks. His other hand running up and down your inner thigh only adds to the lust filled daze that has captured you.

“Wondering what you would taste like.” Being the cheeky alpha that he is, Neteyam doesn’t let the opportunity pass by without reaching a few digits down to his soaked thigh and swirling the substance between his fingers. He simultaneously continues to help you jerk his thick member slowly while sticking the dripping fingers into his mouth profanely.

“My imagination, however, doesn’t do it justice.” He hums with delight, his pink tongue swiping over his bottom lip to collect any escaping juices. “My thoughts are merely a facade in comparison to the real thing. They can’t do you justice.”

You subconsciously tighten your grip around him at the words, causing a low groan to rumble from his chest. Another trickle of slick coats your entrance. You’re in absolute awe at your body's ability to get close to cumming just from the dark noises and words that spill from your mate’s lips. Not to mention the twitching weight of his cock restrained in your hand.

“Then stop imagining and come here.” You leap forward and capture his lips with your own. Neteyam’s hum of surprise morphs into a viscous growl as your tongues fight for dominance. The little gasps and groans that slip into the kiss as you pump his cock is electrifying. It’s borderline addicting to see that way the mighty Omatikaya Prince bucks his hips for you. A sense of power to know that you can get him melting like this.

Never breaking the kiss, Neteyam shuffles your body forward and the two of you start to guide his cock towards your fluttering pussy. All forms of trepidation are gone. Your body screams from every pore that you can take it. You trust these instincts as the thick head of his member prods at your entrance.

Your lips part against his mouth in a gasp when the head slips past your entrance. Slick walls stretch in ways that you couldn’t have imagined and it feels as if you are about to be split in half. Neteyam continues to kiss and nip at your lips gleefully while carefully continuing to guide himself in inch by inch.

“You’re being such a good girl for me.” He coos as your eyes scrunch shut tightly. It feels as if the length will never stop, as if he is about to reach your chest from the inside, but Neteyam is patient. He takes his sweet time checking up on you with every inch and soaking his tone and words with constant praises. It does this trick, scratching at that primal desire to please your alpha.

When his balls finally meet the curve of your ass, little whimpers rain from you consistently.

“N-nete, so b-big.” You cry, forehead touching his own as you struggle to take in ragged breaths. He forces you to take a breath from the mask hanging from his neck.

“I know, baby. So perfect and tight around me.” His own voice shakes slightly. “God damn!” The english phrase sounds like gibberish to your ears but you understand the sentiment nonetheless.

Settled there to let you adjust, your head lolls to his shoulder. When his cock twitches, you clamp your teeth down on his exposed shoulder to stabilize yourself. Neteyam encourages the oral fixation through hissed words of praise. Tears spill from your eyes but it’s hard to say what the source of your crying is. The stretch is uncomfortable but you can’t deny the certain tinge of pleasure that courses through you when a slight shift reminds you of how full your pussy is. Eventually, your heat takes the edge off, rewarding your ability to secure a mate with a pulsing clit and dripping entrance.

It takes a moment to realize that Neteyam is calling your name, you eventually snap out of it when his lips murmur it straight into your flicking ears.

“Hand me your kuru, baby.” Your hands obey on their own accord. “Want you to understand how good you feel, Tanhi. How happy you make me.”

When those dancing tendrils wrap securely around one another, your eyes go from sleepy slits to dilated pupils of awe. It never becomes old being able to feel Neteyam so closely. To feel his breath and strength. To have his own emotions coalesce with yours. A vulnerable certainty of how he is feeling. In this state, neither of you can hide. There is no deceit. There are no polite formalities. You both have direct access to the other’s soul.

This time, a new current of sensation travels through the bond. It sparks into growing forms of ecstasy that makes you groan. It’s a strange thing to accept, but you can feel your own tights walls secured around him. Hugging him so tightly in the warmth of your cunt, velvety texture caressing him with every shift. Underneath that pleasure also grows an unyielding lust that pricks at his self control with every passing second. His hindbrain is screaming at him to move. To claim. To fill your womb with his seed until it drips out from you.

It’s better than if the words had come from his own lips. It sets you into a feral need to complete these fantasies.

“Can you feel me, baby girl?” His arms are securely wrapped around your middle to keep you tight against him.

“Yes Nete, feel all of you. Need all of you. W-want you to move.” The ability to form coherent sentences starts to slip between your fingers. Neteyam, however, requires no further instruction. Your back hits the hammock once more as his strong grip clasps around the soft flesh of your hips. The mask is settled over your lips by the alpha before he continues.

Slowly, but surely, he draws out with smooth and continuous thrusts. Your cunt clenches around him almost painfully, as if to keep him locked there. Once the tip is just barely past your entrance he starts to slide back in smoothly. The prolonged thrusts eventually angle in a way that hits a bundle of nerves inside you that has never been explored by you before. Neteyam moans in sync with you as he can feel your own pleasure every time the head of his cock rubs at the rosy spot.

It spurs him forward. You don’t have to explicitly tell him to go faster because he can feel it straight through the bond. It allows you to focus the energy you have left on gripping his shoulders for dear life. A brutal rhythm begins to take place, your legs wrapped around his waist.

“Oh Eywa!” You screech. The obscene noises of skin slapping fills the room along with Neteyam’s loosed growls and grunts.

“That’s not my name, Tanhi.” The alpha teases, but you can feel the aching desire he has to hear his own name upon your lips. To have the auditory satisfaction of knowing he is pleasing his little mate.

“N-neteyam oh haa Nete!”

His precision at hitting your g spot increases. Neteyam learns your body with an impressive speed. One hand comes up to palm and tease your breasts in his large hand. His eyes switching back and forth between watching his cock disappear inside of you and marveling at the nipple hardening between his pinched fingers.

Everything starts to become a blur for you. The origins of sounds are unknown. Several times you are surprised to find that the high pitched screams are coming from your own throat. Your body shakes and trembles as if it is about to shatter into a million pieces. And that is what you come to truly believe as it overwhelms your senses. It is so consuming and new that you start to sputter little pleas of mercy to your mate, convinced that you truly will die from this overload of sensations.

“It’s alright, Tanhi. You’re alright. Just let go for me. Let it all go.”

Your hair tangles in the woven material of the hammock as you shake your head. Neteyam thrusts become ragged and less coordinated but he slips a hand down to fondle at your clit. You scream and arch, cumming harder than ever before. Neteyam is less than a second behind you, feeling the effects of your orgasm through the bond. Warm ropes of seeds paint your inner walls.

The first normal sense that comes to you is the feeling of Neteyam’s heavy and warm body collapsed on top of yours. Heated breath tickles at your neck, intermittent with sweet kisses and nonsense murmurs. You let yourself bask in the afterglow. Your body is sore and motionless, but luckily Neteyam takes over. Only a tiny sound comes from you when he slips out.

“Come here, tanhi.” Your boneless body is pulled to lay on top of him. Soothing affection swims across the bond when you nuzzle your face against his chest. The swing of the hammock and rhythm of his heartbeat is quickly luring you to sleep.

Neteyam grabs your hand and kisses it sweetly. You can vaguely make out the sound of his voice, but the words are like garbled noises which never compute in your brain. It’s hard to say whether or not it’s english or if you just can’t understand simple words now in your fucked out state. Still, you like the way it makes his chest rumble.

“Neteyam.” The rumble stops, tail flickering as he waits patiently.

“I see you.” Your words are barely more than a whisper in the stuffy room but they ring true. He gently places the breathing mask over your lips again before your eyes close.

“You’re all I see, little star.”

Taglist @yurmomsawh0r @nilahsstuff @name-saken @luvv4j4ybe11 @stylishtoast @karateperson @henhouse-horrors @easy2004 @whisperingwillow0854 @whenercolorfulrainbowlol @neteyamtesuli

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onebadassunicorn · 11 days ago

Text

His Blue-Eyed Angel

pairing: Azriel x Reader

content warnings: some smut and some serious angst :(

word count: 12.8k

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Story tags: @bravo-delta-eccho @tele86 @tiredsleepyhead @celestialgilb @theflowerswillbloom @fuckingsimp4azriel @quiet-because-it-is-a-secret

Image owned by Dream World Dweller.

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***************

Chapter 12

Y/n POV

Velaris’s streets had been transformed for the night’s grand masquerade, and there was no shortage of inventive costumes. But as Rhysand and Feyre stepped into the lamplight, they easily stole the show. They descended the marble steps of the townhouse wearing sleek, tailored ensembles inspired by a distant, unknown legend—perhaps something Rhysand had glimpsed in one of Amren’s stranger tomes or a curious book Feyre had found hidden in a dusty corner of the House of Wind’s library.

Rhysand’s attire was cut from the finest black leather, molded to his tall, lean frame. A sweeping cloak of midnight velvet draped from his shoulders, and the chest piece bore a stylized emblem—a black bat silhouetted against a subtle gray background—stitched with shimmering thread that caught the city lights. He wore a cowl that covered the upper half of his face, leaving his strong jaw and mischievous smirk visible beneath it. His wings were cleverly glamoured beneath the cape, making him seem more mysterious, more mortal, like a mythic vigilante prowling the cobbled streets of Velaris.

Feyre’s outfit mirrored Rhysand’s, though fitted to her graceful curves. She wore a sleek, black bodysuit with subtle accents in midnight-blue stitching. A shorter cape fell to her lower back, flaring slightly when she moved. Like Rhysand’s chest piece, hers displayed the same emblem—a silent declaration that she stood as his equal, his partner. Her cowl, more streamlined than his, framed her face elegantly, leaving her mouth and a hint of her high cheekbones bare. She had refused to hide her hair entirely, allowing a few strands of her brown locks to tumble artfully from beneath the mask.

Under the glow of faelight, the two of them drew gazes from every passerby. Rhysand grinned beneath the mask, his violet eyes gleaming through the narrow slits. Feyre moved lightly at his side, a confident tilt to her chin. They looked as if they’d stepped straight from a storybook—two daring shadows come to life, ready to protect their city with wit and cunning rather than brute force.

As they crossed through the square on their way to Rita’s, the crowd parted as if drawn by a silent understanding of who they were—even if they could not guess the story behind the strange, winged creatures on their chests. Feyre teased Rhysand, whispering into his ear that he looked rather intimidating in his mask, while he countered that she looked ready to outsmart a hundred villains with just one glare.

Mor led the way, her laughter ringing out like music over the cobblestones. She was dressed as a red devil, and she owned it. The sleek, crimson bodysuit clung to her like a second skin, the plunging neckline a testament to her confidence. A pair of small, curved horns perched on her head, glittering faintly under the moonlight, and her long blonde hair fell in golden waves down her back. In her hand, she carried a red pitchfork, twirling it idly as her sharp heels clicked with purpose.

“Let me guess,” Mor said, turning back to the others with a wicked grin, her golden eyes sparkling with mischief. “You’re all secretly jealous of my horns. Admit it.”

Cassian, striding beside her in his costume as a gladiator—complete with a bronze chest plate and leather skirt—snorted. “Jealous? You look like you escaped from a child’s nightmare.”

Mor gasped dramatically, clutching her chest as though wounded. “You’re just mad because my costume is better than yours. Admit it, Cass. You couldn’t pull off red even if your life depended on it.”

“I don’t need to pull off red,” Cassian shot back, his grin matching her wickedness. “I pull off bronze just fine, don’t I?” He flexed his arms for emphasis, making Feyre roll her eyes.

“Stop flirting,” Rhysand drawled lazily from the back of the group, though his violet eyes glinted with amusement. He walked arm in arm with Feyre, who bumped her shoulder into him, her smile fond as she whispered something that made his smirk widen.

I walked beside them, in my pirate costume Mor I insisted I buy for tonight’s party. My heart beating a little faster than usual, I was still growing accustomed to this place—Velaris, with its endless kindness and charm, still learning to ease my guard in the presence of those who had quickly begun to feel like family.

Azriel trailed slightly behind, his costume drawing more than a few curious stares. The green and red suit accentuated his tall, lean frame, and the black mask only made him more striking. His shadows seemed oddly muted tonight, curling lazily around him as though taking a break from their usual restlessness. But his hazel eyes were sharp, scanning the crowd even as he remained silent.

Elain walked beside Azriel, the golden-haired Archeron sister dazzling as an Amazon warrior in her red and gold armor, her soft smile lighting up the path ahead. She said something quietly to Azriel, her tone warm, and he nodded once, though his gaze drifted briefly to me before returning to the street ahead.

Amren had chosen a severe, structured outfit of sharp lines and fine velvet, paired with a mask that elongated at the sides like sweeping horns. She walked a pace behind, unimpressed by the theatrics but enjoying the night’s promise of good wine and entertainment.

“I think I see Rita’s up ahead,” Feyre said, pointing toward the glowing entrance where a line of fae in elaborate costumes waited to enter.

Mor twirled her pitchfork again, a wicked grin curling her lips. “Ah, Rita’s. A place where bad decisions are made, and bad ideas thrive. Let’s make it a night to remember, shall we?”

“You mean a night for you to make bad decisions,” Cassian quipped, earning a sly wink from Mor.

As they reached the door, Mor turned back to the group, her grin widening as she gestured grandly with her pitchfork. “Come on, my loyal mortals,” she said dramatically. “The devil commands you to party like it’s your last night in Prythian.”

Feyre laughed, Rhys shook his head fondly, and Cassian muttered something under his breath about needing more alcohol. Azriel remained silent, his gaze flickering briefly to me again before he stepped inside with the rest of the group, shadows trailing at his heels.

And as the doors to Rita’s opened and the music spilled out into the night, Mor led the way, her horns glittering and her laughter echoing like the promise of chaos.

******

Y/n POV

The exterior had been draped in silks of various colors—amethyst, emerald, and gold. Paper lanterns dangled overhead, and Harpys—a local acrobatic troupe—performed on a makeshift platform, their movements reflected in the polished windows.

Inside, the music surged, a lively tune that urged everyone to dance. Costumed revelers pressed in from all sides and Rita’s sprawling bar was backed by mirrors that caught and multiplied the twinkling fairy lights strung across the ceiling.

I found myself at the back of the group as we made our way through the crowd toward the bar. Feyre deftly slipped between partygoers, Rhysand following with an easy confidence that parted the crowds. Cassian’s booming laugh rolled ahead of them, turning a few heads, while Mor and Amren drifted behind, keeping their own easy pace. Azriel settled beside Elain, guiding her gently with a subtle press of his elbow so she didn’t lose them in the throng.

At the bar, the bartender—a fae with a smiling fox mask—tipped his head in greeting. Colorful bottles lined the shelves, potions and liquors in every hue. Cassian ordered something strong and sweet, while Mor demanded a sparkling concoction said to taste like summer rain. Feyre and Rhysand exchanged a private look before they each requested a signature Rita’s special—whatever that might be tonight. Amren quietly asked for her usual: a blood-red wine, dry and full-bodied.

And when the bartender turned to me, I hesitated, uncertain. I looked to Mor, who offered an encouraging grin.

I finally spoke over the din, “I’ll have what Feyre’s having.” A safe choice, a link between myself and these people who had welcomed me into their fold. As the bartender got to work, I relaxed a fraction. Surrounded by friends—by family—I began to believe I could belong here, in this kaleidoscope of laughter, music, and shimmering costumes.

******

Azriel POV

Later that evening, as the clamor and brightness of Rita’s masquerade party swelled behind him, Azriel slipped out onto one of the bar’s balcony landings. He rarely took center stage in such festivities; he preferred to linger in the quiet margins, in watchful shadows. But tonight, thanks to Rhysand’s and Feyre’s outlandish costumes, the entire Inner Circle had indulged in their shared whimsy. Which meant he was dressed in a style he’d never have chosen for himself: a fitted outfit of red and green leather, high boots that glinted with polished leather, and a short cape in a brilliant shade of yellow. He had glamoured his wings because they just didn’t seem to fit with his costume theme. A simple half-mask, black and angular, framed his eyes and seemed to sharpen his gaze.

He looked, well… like a sidekick, he supposed. A guardian-in-training. A bright dash of color no one would have expected from the Night Court’s spymaster. Yet, when Rhysand had hinted that this costume would “suit his quiet valor,” and Mor had jokingly nudged him with, “You’ll look adorable,” Azriel had decided to humor them. It was just one night, after all. One night to be something different.

The gentle hush of the night air and a hint of distant music drifted around him as he rested his forearms on the balcony’s railing. He hadn’t expected to be followed, least of all by her.

Y/n walked out on the balcony, her dark hair cascading down her back like a shimmering curtain of midnight. But it wasn’t her hair that held his attention—it was the outfit. She was dressed as a pirate, but not the type who’d be hidden away on a ship. Her leather corset hugged her curves perfectly, laced tightly at the front and accentuating her small waist. A deep crimson skirt with slits up both sides revealed her toned legs with every step she took, and tall thigh high black boots completed the look. A black hat with a crimson feather perched at a rakish angle on her head, and her usual confidence was amplified by the mischievous smile playing on her lips.

Time seemed to pause for Azriel in that moment, the noise fading into the background as his gaze drank her in. She was breathtaking, striking in a way that made his chest ache.

His hazel eyes traced every detail of her costume, from the glint of the gold chains at her hip to the dagger sheathed at her thigh—an authentic touch that made his lips twitch. Even here, at a costume party, she carried a weapon.

Of course she does, he thought with a flicker of admiration.

But it wasn’t just her outfit that drew him—it was the way she carried herself. He tore his gaze away for a moment, trying to focus on anything else, but it was impossible. She was magnetic, her presence pulling at him as if the bond thrumming faintly in his chest refused to let him look away.

When she spotted him on the balcony as well, her smile faltered for just a fraction of a second, her gaze locking with his. The moment stretched between them, her eyes wide, as if surprised by his focus on her. Azriel’s jaw tightened, his shadows shifting slightly around his shoulders, betraying the tension coiling within him.

What are you doing, Azriel? he berated himself. He shouldn’t be looking at her like this. Shouldn’t be imagining what it would feel like to trail his fingers along the exposed skin of her thigh, to tug at the laces of that corset and see what lay beneath. He clenched his hands into fists, his knuckles brushing the edge of the railing as he forced himself to look away.

But it was useless. His gaze flicked back to her almost immediately, drawn by some unseen force.

And then she stopped—right beside him.

She took in his costume one careful inch at a time, her gaze traveling over the rich hues, the sleek mask, the embroidered emblem on his chest. A faint, disbelieving smile curved at the corners of her lips.

“This is unexpected,” she said, voice soft, yet threaded with amusement. “I never thought I’d see you in… something so bright.”

Azriel felt heat creep along his neck, though he managed a small half-smile. “I’m still not entirely sure how Rhysand talked me into this.” He tugged gently at the edge of his cape, as though trying to smooth a wrinkle—or maybe hide behind it. “He said it would fit the theme.”

She stepped closer. The moonlight shimmered over the dark waves of her hair, and the scent of jasmine and sea salt clung faintly to her skin. She tilted her head, her blue eyes catching the light. “Robin, isn’t that what he called you tonight?” The name rolled off her tongue with a teasing lilt.

Azriel cleared his throat. “It’s from the same strange story they plucked their costumes from. Robin is… a trusted partner, I gather. Someone who stands beside the hero.” A subtle shrug of his shoulders. He let the implication hang in the warm night air: that he was a supporting role, a reliable presence, never the main character.

Y/n’s eyes softened. “Standing beside someone doesn’t make you any less important. I’ve heard rumors about this… hero and sidekick. Robin’s loyalty, his quick thinking, and his willingness to step into danger for others. It sounds… familiar.” Her voice held a gentle note, a rare warmth directed just at him.

Azriel’s throat tightened at that, the faint praise laced with understanding. He tried to formulate a response that wouldn’t betray the swirl of emotion within him, but she saved him by leaning in slightly, a playful sparkle in her eyes. “If you ask me,” Y/n said, her tone conspiratorial, “you wear it well. I think this Robin would be proud to have you in his stead.”

Azriel blinked, surprised pleasure flickering in his gaze. He didn’t know if it was the mask granting him courage, but he allowed himself a quieter, warmer smile than usual. “You think so?”

She nodded, stepping just close enough that he caught the shine of starlight in her eyes. “I do. I’m glad I got to see this side of you.” Her gaze flicked briefly over his shoulders, at the colored cape. “The colors suit you in a way I wouldn’t have imagined. It’s… a reminder that even shadows can wear bright things, if only for a night.”

Azriel exhaled softly, a sound that could have been the start of a laugh. He found himself grateful for the mask that concealed enough of his face to hide the full extent of his surprise—and pleasure. “Then maybe I’ll have to keep it,” he teased, surprising himself with the lightness in his tone. “Wear it around Velaris sometime, just to keep everyone on their toes.”

Y/n smiled, a real, radiant one that softened the edges of the night. “I’d like that,” she said, her voice quiet. For a moment, the music and laughter from inside faded into the background, and the two of them stood there, side by side under the Velaris moon. Azriel’s then turned back to her, his gaze lingered over her curves and costume as he drank her in.

“Enjoying the view, Spymaster?” she teased, her voice low and playful as she tilted her head, the crimson feather in her hat swaying with the movement. Her lips curled into a sly smile, her eyes glinting with amusement as she leaned slightly closer, the scent of her teasing his senses.

Azriel’s throat tightened, his usually steady demeanor slipping for a moment as he struggled to find words. “It’s… a bold costume,” he managed, his voice rougher than usual.

Her smile widened, and there was something almost daring in her expression. “Bold is one word for it,” she said lightly.

His shadows curled tighter, betraying his emotions even as he forced himself to keep his expression neutral. “It suits you,” he said quietly, his gaze flickering down her figure to the dagger sheathed at her thigh before he dragged it back to her face. “Dangerous and beautiful.”

Y/n stilled, the teasing glint in her eyes softening as a faint flush colored her cheeks.

“I need to go back inside,” he said abruptly, stepping back from the railing. His shadows swirled tighter around him, agitated and restless, reflecting the turmoil he was so carefully trying to hide. “Enjoy the party, Y/n.”

******

Y/n POV

The air on the balcony was cool and refreshing, a stark contrast to the heat and noise inside Rita’s. I leaned against the railing, the city lights of Velaris shimmering below me as Itook a deep breath, trying to steady the flurry of emotions racing through my chest. The party inside was in full swing, the music and laughter spilling out into the night, but I’d needed a moment to myself. Seeing Azriel tonight, the way his eyes had lingered on me in my costume, had stirred something deep inside me—something confusing and raw.

I adjusted the brim of my pirate hat, my fingers brushing the crimson feather as I shook my head. Don’t be ridiculous, I told myself. He’s with Elain. He’s always been with Elain.

The soft sound of boots against the stone pulled me from my thoughts, and I turned just as Lucien stepped out onto the balcony. The golden glow of the city lights danced across his face, highlighting his sharp features and the striking contrast of his long auburn red hair. He was dressed as a pirate too, though his outfit was a little more rugged—dark leather trousers tucked into polished boots, a loose shirt opened to show his chiseled chest with a fitted brown suede vest. He had several pendants around his neck and his weapons hung off the belts around his waist. He topped it off with a sexy black eyepatch over his mechanical eye.

“Well, well,” he said, a playful smirk tugging at his lips as he leaned casually against the railing beside me. “It seems we’ve had the same idea tonight. Did you plan this?”

I raised a brow, trying to suppress the small smile threatening to form. “Hardly. I think you’re the one copying me, Lucien.”

His smirk widened as he tilted his head, gleaming with mischief. “If I am, it’s only because you wear it so well. But I must say…” He straightened, gesturing between our matching costumes. “We make quite the pair, don’t we?”

I rolled my eyes, though my smile slipped through this time. “Don’t let Mor hear you say that. She’d take credit for both of our costumes.”

Lucien chuckled, his deep, rich laugh warming the cool night air. “That does sound like her,” he admitted. He paused, studying me for a moment before his expression softened. “You look incredible, Y/n. The costume suits you.”

My cheeks flushed faintly, and I turned back toward the city, fiddling with the edge of my hat. “Thanks,” I said quietly, the genuine sincerity in his voice catching me off guard. “You… don’t look so bad yourself.”

He chuckled again, but it was softer this time, and he leaned closer, resting his forearms on the railing as he looked at me. “What are you doing out here, anyway? The party’s inside.”

I sighed, my gaze fixed on the shimmering waters of the Sidra in the distance. “Just needed a breather,” I said after a moment. “It’s a bit overwhelming in there.”

“Ah,” Lucien said knowingly, his voice laced with understanding. “Too many fae in one place, too much noise, and one brooding Shadowsinger staring at you like he’s never seen a woman before?”

My head snapped toward him, my wide eyes meeting his amused gaze. “What are you talking about?” I asked, though the heat rising in my cheeks betrayed me.

Lucien’s smirk deepened, as he straightened. “Oh, come on, Y/n. I’ve known Azriel long enough to recognize that look. He might think he’s subtle, but I’ve seen the way he watches you.” He tilted his head, studying my reaction. “And the way you watch him.”

I swallowed, my hands gripping the railing tightly. “He doesn’t watch me,” I said quickly, though my voice lacked conviction. “He’s… he’s with Elain.”

Lucien’s expression shifted, his smirk fading into something softer, more thoughtful. “Is he?” he asked quietly. “Because from where I’m standing, he seems to be more focused on you than anyone else.”

My heart clenched at his words, but I forced myself to shake my head, turning away again. “You’re wrong,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “It doesn’t matter, anyway.”

Lucien didn’t press me further. Instead, he reached out and gently tugged on the brim of my hat, a faint smile returning to his lips. “Well, if he’s too blind to see what’s in front of him, that’s his loss,” he said lightly. “Because if you ask me, you’re the most stunning woman at this party.”

My breath caught, and I turned to him in surprise, my heart racing at the warmth in his gaze. Before I could respond, Lucien offered me a small bow, the perfect image of a charming pirate. “Now, shall we head back in, Captain?” he asked, holding out his arm with an exaggerated flourish.

Despite myself, I laughed, the tension in my chest easing slightly as I took his arm. “Fine,” I said, shaking my head. “But only if you promise not to call me Captain again.”

“No promises,” Lucien said with a wink, leading me back inside.

But as we re-entered the crowded bar, I felt a familiar pair of hazel eyes on me, sharp and unyielding, even from across the room. When I glanced in Azriel’s direction, his gaze was fixed on where my hand rested on Lucien’s arm, shadows flickering darkly around his shoulders.

And for a moment, the heat of his gaze was almost enough to make me forget everything else. Almost.

******

Y/n POV

The music at Rita’s had settled into a steady, enticing rhythm as the evening wore on. The costume party was in full swing, and every corner of the bar seemed touched by some fantasy or legend. When I stepped away from the balcony with Lucien and waded back through the throng of revelers, I caught sight of Elain at the far end of the long, polished counter. Elain, usually gentle and understated, had embraced the night’s playful absurdity. She wore armor-like cuffs on her wrists, a gleaming tiara in her softly curling hair, and a red and blue ensemble that paid homage to a warrior woman of legend—an Amazon princess named Diana, Feyre had called her. She radiated confidence and warmth, turning heads as she passed. The pair looked like they had stepped out of a storybook, a flawless couple destined for one another.

“Interesting costume choices, don’t you think?” Mor’s voice cut through my thoughts, a teasing lilt in her tone. I turned to see my friend watching me with a knowing smirk, her sharp gaze darting between me and Azriel.

“Robin suits him,” I replied, my voice carefully neutral as I forced a smile. “And Elain looks… stunning.” I hated how stiff the words sounded, hated how the knot in my chest tightened further as I said them.

“She does,” Mor agreed, though her smirk didn’t fade. “But you didn’t answer my real question.”

I arched a brow, feigning ignorance. “And what question is that?”

Mor’s eyes gleamed with mischief. “What you really think about Azriel and Elain.”

My smile faltered, my gaze dropping to my glass. “I think they look good together,” I said after a moment, the words tasting bitter on my tongue.

Mor tilted her head, studying me with a knowing look. “Interesting,” she murmured, her tone too light to be innocent. “I think they look mismatched.”

My head snapped up, surprise flickering in my eyes. “What do you mean?”

Mor shrugged, a sly smile playing on her lips. “I mean, Azriel may be standing there with her, but I know him well enough to see where his mind is.”

I frowned, my heart thudding in her chest. “And where is that, exactly?”

Mor leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “On the sexy pirate who has him so tied up in knots, he doesn’t know what to do with himself.”

My cheeks flushed, my heart stuttering at the implication. I opened my mouth to argue, to deny it, but Mor had already turned back to the crowd, her smirk widening as she watched Azriel glance in our direction.

My stomach flipped as my gaze followed his, catching the brief flicker of something in his hazel eyes as they locked onto mine for the briefest moment. And then he turned back to Elain, his attention shifting seamlessly as though nothing had happened.

I paused, hovering just at the edge of a knot of partygoers. From my vantage point, I saw Azriel leaning against the bar, his dark hair falling slightly into his eyes, the edges of his robin-themed mask catching the light. He wore it well, even with his shoulders squared as if expecting some danger that would never come. He’d seemed relaxed with me on the balcony before Lucien’s arrival, even teased me lightly. Now, watching him from a distance, I realized that sense of comfort I’d felt moments before was not mine alone to share.

Elain approached him with a gentle smile, and Azriel inclined his head, acknowledging her presence. She said something—I couldn’t make out the words—and Azriel’s lips curved into a quiet, subdued smile in return. They stood close, close enough that Elain’s glossy curls brushed near his shoulder, close enough that my chest tightened at the sight. There was nothing overtly intimate about their stance, yet the ease between them was undeniable. Elain’s laughter, soft and melodic, reached my ears even over the hum of conversation.

I tried to quell the envy, the insecurity coursing through my veins. It was unfair to Elain, who had been nothing but kind, open, and gracious since my arrival. Still, seeing them together—Elain as regal and radiant as a warrior queen, Azriel so at ease by her side—caused a quiet ache in my chest.

It wasn’t the playful banter, or even the teasing glances they exchanged that bothered me. It was the way Azriel, normally so reserved and distant, was allowing it. He was letting Elain into his space, into his proximity in a way that stung deeper than I wanted to admit. My heart twisted painfully in my chest as I watched them, the distance between he and I growing more and more significant with each passing moment.

And at that moment realized it hit me.

I was in love with Azriel.

And what made it hurt was that Azriel had made his choice...and it wasn’t me.

He had chosen her.

My own costume felt suffocating—too tight around my chest, as though it was somehow mocking me. The corset I wore seemed to accentuate my discomfort, but it was nothing compared to the way my heart twisted as I watched him with Elain. The jealousy that boiled inside me was thick and painful, settling deep in my stomach, making it hard to breathe.

But I couldn’t help the way my eyes were drawn back to them, time and time again. Azriel’s attention was completely focused on Elain, and for some reason, it felt like everything inside me had shattered. The realization that I couldn’t get close enough to him and that it felt like he was slipping away from me—was almost unbearable.

Azriel’s gaze lifted momentarily and swept through the crowd—did he feel me watching him? He straightened a fraction, shadows gathering subtly near his shoulders. Then, as if he found what he was looking for, his eyes met mine across the space, catching me in the act of observing. He didn’t smile, didn’t beckon me over, but something in his gaze hardened. Like I was intruding into something I shouldn’t be.

And with that thought, I felt something inside me close off. I wouldn’t let him see how much it hurt.

Not now.

Not in front of anyone.

So, I turned away, my heart heavier with each step, determined to hold onto the fragments of myself that were slipping away with every glance I cast in his direction.

My pulse fluttered. I had no right to jealousy, had no claim over him and yet, the jealous feeling remained, a lump in my throat that wouldn’t subside. I managed a small nod, and forced myself to move, to drift along the bar’s length. I’d find Lucien or Mor, find a reason to laugh, to enjoy the night as I was meant to.

Still, as I wove through the costumed guests searching for Lucien or Mor, I couldn’t shake the image of them standing side by side. Azriel and Elain—the spymaster and the gentle dreamer turned warrior-goddess for a night.

I met up with Lucien again near the edge of the dance floor, where the crowd thinned just enough for me to spot his distinctive auburn hair.

He straightened as I neared, a grin curving his lips, and welcomed me with an easy bow, offering his hand as the music shifted to a sultry, rhythmic tune. Rita’s had cleared a small space in the center for dancing, and as we stepped into that open circle, I felt the weight of dozens of curious gazes—one in particular.

******

Azriel POV

Azriel’s jaw tightened, his chest tightening with a sharp pang of jealousy as he watched her approach Lucien, and his offering of his hand to her. Then she looked up at him and laughed at whatever Lucien had said. Her smile was radiant, her gaze lighting up in a way that made Azriel’s heart clench. And yet, there was something deeper in his hazel eyes as he watched her—something that burned like a smoldering fire, unyielding and all-consuming.

They were dressed as pirates, the perfect pair. Y/n’s outfit hugged her figure, a corseted jacket of deep black leather. She looked fierce and radiant, her confidence a magnet for every eye in the room. Lucien matched her, his rugged attire equally striking. They looked as if they’d stepped from the pages of a sea-bound epic, a swashbuckling duo come to life.

Azriel’s chest tightened as he watched her laugh at something Lucien said, her hand brushing his arm in a gesture that seemed too familiar, too easy. She looked happy—carefree in a way. And while he knew he had no right to begrudge her joy, the jealousy clawed at him anyway, hot and insistent.

Even as she laughed with Lucien, Azriel couldn’t take his eyes off her. She was everything—his bond, his mate and his self-control was seriously beginning to erode.

Azriel’s grip on his glass tightened, the cool edge of the tumbler biting into his fingers. His shadows stirred uneasily at his feet, mirroring the storm brewing in his chest. He didn’t need to look around to know others had noticed her too—the way heads turned, admiring glances from fae males trailing her every step. But it wasn’t the others that sparked his jealousy, and it wasn't just her appearance that had his attention-it was who she was dancing with.

Lucien.

Azriel's jaw clenched as he watched them.

Lucien's hands rested on Y/n’s waist, far too comfortably for Azriel's liking, his fingers dangerously close to the lower curve of her back. Every now and then, Lucien's hands would slide lower, just enough to make Azriel's shadows writhe with agitation.

Then there was the way Lucien leaned into her neck, his lips hovering mere inches from her skin as he spoke to her. Whatever he was saying made her laugh softly, and the sound, combined with the way she tilted her head slightly to listen, exposed the delicate line of her throat. Lucien lingered there longer than necessary, his lips so close to her skin that Azriel swore he saw the faintest brush of air between them.

Lucien straightened, his hand on her waist tightening slightly as they danced closer, their bodies almost touching. Their faces were mere inches apart now, their breath mingling as they moved in perfect rhythm to the sultry beat. When she spun, the curls of her hair brushed his cheek; when she stepped forward, her knee slipped between his, bringing them momentarily closer than polite society would ever allow. Her hands went around his neck as they moved and gyrated their hips in a sultry, synchronous dance. The music thrummed, sensual and hypnotic, and their laughter mixed with its pulse.

Y/n’s blue eyes locked onto Lucien's, and the intensity in her gaze made Azriel's chest tighten. Lucien stared back at her as though she were the only person in the room, his gaze fixed on her with a reverence that made Azriel's blood boil.

Their lips were almost touching, their gazes locked, and Lucien seemed utterly lost in her.

He told himself he had no right to feel this way, that she owed him nothing. Fate had bound him to her, but she was free, her desires her own. Still, the quiet ache in his chest refused to fade. His fingertips tapped an erratic rhythm against the bar’s edge as he tried—and failed—to keep his gaze from drifting back to the dancing pair. He motioned the bartender for another shot and slammed it as he motioned again for another one, gripping the glass in a deathlike vice.

“Careful, Az,” came a voice at his side. He turned to find Cassian leaning casually against the bar, a knowing smirk on his face. “You’re going to shatter that drink with how hard you’re gripping it.”

“I’m fine,” Azriel replied curtly, though the tension in his jaw betrayed him.

A spin brought Y/n face-to-face with Lucien, closer still, and Azriel’s breath caught. The gentle curve of her smile, the glow in her eyes—he knew that glow. He’d seen it on others who found Lucien’s charm enchanting. At that moment, Azriel would have given anything to be the one in front of her, to feel her body responding to the music against his own, to coax that laugh from her lips.

But he remained at a distance, leaning against the bar just off the dance floor, keeping a watchful eye on her. He’d had to swallow down his jealousy more than once tonight as others noticed what he considered to be his.

His beautiful mate.

He tried to appear calm, though his posture tense, a subtle sign of the turmoil within him. But the sight of her with Lucien started to become his undoing.

Lucien’s hand shifted slightly, his thumb brushing a soft circle over her hip, and Azriel's fists clenched at his sides. The way Lucien looked at her-as though she were his—made something dark and possessive roar to life within Azriel.

Beside him, Cassian leaned casually against the bar, swirling his drink in his hand. He followed Azriel's line of sight, his brows rising as he took in the scene on the dance floor.

The music shifted to a an even slower, sultrier beat, and Y/n moved with an effortless grace that made Azriel’s heart twist. Lucien matched her step for step, his hands resting on her hips as he pulled her flush with his body, her arms wrapping tighter around his neck. They swayed together, their bodies so close that Azriel could not see any space between them, their bodies far too close for Azriel’s liking.

Azriel’s hands clenched into fists, his nails digging into his palms as he fought the urge to march onto the dance floor and tear them apart. He could feel the bond between him and Y/n thrumming faintly, an unspoken connection that was only known to him and fueled his jealousy as he watched her smile at Lucien, her body melting more into his they moved.

Azriel's knuckles whitened as he slammed his drink onto the bar with enough force to make the glass rattle. Cassian's gaze snapped back to him.

"Oh shit," Cassian muttered, his eyes darting back to Y/n and Lucien. "This is about to get interesting."

Azriel’s shadows lashed out violently, curling and writhing at his feet as he pushed off the bar and strode toward them. The room seemed to quiet in his mind, the music and laughter fading into the background as his focus narrowed to the two of them.

"That's enough," Azriel said, his voice low but cutting as he grabbed her wrist. His touch wasn't rough, but it was firm, and the intensity in his hazel eyes made her stop mid-step.

"Azriel, what-" she began, her brows knitting in confusion.

"We're talking. Outside. Now," he said sharply, his shadows curling around his boots as he pulled her toward the door.

Lucien started to step forward, but Azriel shot him a look that froze him in place. "Stay out of this," Azriel growled, his voice edged with a warning that even Lucien couldn't ignore.

Y/n barely had time to process what was happening as Azriel guided her outside, the cool night air hitting her face as they stepped into the quiet alley behind Rita's. She yanked her wrist free.

“What the hell, Az?”

Azriel turned to face her, his hazel eyes blazing. "What the hell were you doing in there? Dancing with him like that? Letting him put his hands all over you?"

Her eyes widened in shock. "Dancing, Azriel. It was just dancing. Why do you care?"

"Why do I care?" he repeated, his voice rising.

The glamour on his wings dissolved, his wings then flaring behind him, and his shadows lashed at the ground. "Because he had his scent all over you. His scent. And you two looked like-like—"

"Like what?" she snapped, stepping closer. "Like a couple? Is that what you're so upset about?"

"Yes!" Azriel yelled, his voice raw with frustration. "You're dressed like pirates together, looking like you walked out of some stupid fantasy book, and you don't even realize how it looks. How it feels to see you with him like that. Lucien—" He stopped abruptly, his chest heaving, before finishing. "Lucien is Elain's mate, Y/n. Don't you think about what that must make Elain feel? How awkward it must be for her?"

Y/n’s eyes narrowed, anger flashing in her stormy blue eyes, the color changing to a deep-sea blue where the ocean water darkens in color as the light can no longer reach it. She was livid, her anger coiled like a snake and ready to strike.

“Elain doesn’t give a shit about Lucien.” She snapped, stepping forward to get in his face. "She's made that very clear. And if you didn't notice, Elain is quite taken with you, Azriel." Her words were sharp, cutting, as she added, "So why does it matter to you?"

Azriel froze, her question hanging heavily in the air. His jaw clenched, his wings twitching as his gaze locked onto hers. "Because you don't belong to him," he said finally, his voice low but filled with unspoken emotion.

Y/n blinked, her breath hitching as she took a step back. "Go back inside, Azriel," she said quietly, crossing her arms as though trying to shield herself. "Go back to Elain. That's what you want, isn't it?"

"No," Azriel said firmly, his voice trembling with the intensity of the word.

"Azriel," she hissed again, her tone sharper now.

"Go back inside. Go back to Elain." She pointed to the door.

"I said no!" Azriel shouted, his voice breaking through the quiet night air as he stepped closer to her, the tension between them was palpable.

Y/n opened her mouth to argue, but before she could speak, Azriel surged forward, his hands cupping her face as he crushed his lips to hers in a kiss filled with heat, frustration, and something deeper.

She froze for a moment, shocked, but the warmth of his lips, the desperate way he kissed her, broke through her defenses. Slowly, her body relaxed against his, and she kissed him back, her hands moving to his chest, then his shoulders as the kiss deepened.

Azriel groaned softly as her fingers moved up to tangle in his hair, pulling him closer. His hands slid from her face to her waist, gripping her tightly as he pressed her against the wall, their bodies flush.

His shadows coiled around them, blocking out the world, and he could feel her trembling beneath his touch as he pressed his hard cock against her stomach, wanting her to feel him, feel how she was driving him insane.

“Gods, angel,” he murmured, as he trailed kisses down her jawline and her neck. “What are you doing to me?”

She whimpered and the scent of her arousal hit him like a tsunami, mingling with his own, and it nearly undid him. His hands grabbed hers and held them over her head and he pinned her hands down. As his kisses increased in intensity, he held her wrists with one hand and moved the other down her body. She responded with equal intensity, as a soft moan escaped her lips, a sound that sent heat rushing through him, his blood thundering in his veins.

“You. Are. Mine.” He growled between kisses as his free hand slid up from her waist to her corset, caressing and palming her breast as his mouth continued to devour hers.

Y/n arched her back against him, seeking the friction she desperately needed against her core as his hand moved down from her breast to the slit in her skirt. He slid his hand up her inner thigh to her lace panties, where he felt the dampness at the apex of her thighs…and he snapped.

His mouth moved back down to her neck, kissing, licking and biting her skin, her breath coming out in pants. He moved his mouth back up to hers as abruptly pulled her panties aside and ran his fingers over her, his fingers immediately wet from her pussy.

“Mother above, baby, your body is so responsive to me.” He smiled against her mouth as his tongue danced with hers.

As he his fingers slowly caressed her clit in circles, he swallowed her moans and inserted a finger inside of her, slowly pumping it inside and out.

Fuck, she was intoxicating, and he wanted to just get drunk on her for the rest of eternity.

“Azriel,” she moaned as he slid another finger inside her. She was sopping wet for him and all he wanted to do was drop his to his knees, pull her leg over his shoulder and feast on her as the scent of her overcame him.

But then, reality slammed into him.

Azriel pulled away abruptly, his breathing ragged, his hazel eyes wide, pupils blown, with a mix of longing and regret. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I shouldn't have – this was a mistake"

"Azriel, wait," Y/n began, reaching for him, but he stepped back, shaking his head.

"I can't... I can't do this right now," he said, his voice breaking as he turned and disappeared into the shadows, leaving her alone in the alley with the taste of him still on her lips.

Back inside, Cassian stood at the bar, watching Azriel storm back in and Y/n’s stunned face visible just outside the door. He shook his head with a low whistle, muttering to himself, "Oh shit." He downed the rest of his drink, knowing full well he'd probably be hearing about this later.

******

Y/n POV

I stood in the cool night air, my back against the wall of the alley behind Rita’s, my chest rising and falling as I tried to steady my breathing. The sounds of the party still filtered faintly through the door, but the world around me felt impossibly quiet, as though the kiss had stolen all sound along with my composure.

My fingers trembled as they brushed against my lips, still tingling from the heat of Azriel’s kiss. I could feel him there, the ghost of his touch lingering like a brand. It had been fiery, raw, and so filled with emotion that it left me reeling. I could still feel the pressure of his hands on my face, the weight of his body against mine, the way his shadows had seemed to cocoon us from the rest of the world.

The cool air brushing against face did nothing to calm the storm inside me. I closed my eyes, trying to push away the memory of his hazel eyes blazing with intensity, of the possessiveness in his voice when he’d said I didn’t belong to Lucien and claimed me as his.

Confusion swirled through my mind, mixing with anger and longing in equal measure. Why had he kissed me? Why had he acted so… possessive? He’d stormed out of the party, dragging me away from Lucien, chastising me as though I’d done something wrong. But I hadn’t. Had I?

My brows furrowed as my thoughts turned to Lucien. We’d been dancing—close, yes, but it had been harmless. Or at least, I’d thought it was. Lucien was my friend, nothing more. The idea that Azriel had thought otherwise made my chest tighten with frustration.

But Azriel’s words lingered, cutting through my confusion like shards of glass. “Because you don’t belong to him.” His voice had been filled with something raw, something I couldn’t ignore. And the way he’d looked at me… like I was his entire world, like the very idea of me with someone else was unbearable.

My fingers curled into fists at my sides as I opened my eyes, staring out into the dark alley. I didn’t know what to think, didn’t know how to process the whirlwind of emotions that the kiss had stirred within me. All I knew was that it had awakened something in me, something I could no longer ignore.

My heart pounded as I replayed the moment in my mind, over and over again. The warmth of his lips, the way his scent—cedar, mist, and shadows—had wrapped around me, the way he’d kissed me and touched me like he was claiming me, like I was his. It had left me breathless, confused, and yearning for him.

But then he’d pulled away, his expression filled with regret, and his apology had stung more than I cared to admit. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—” The words echoed in my mind, leaving a hollow ache in my chest. He’d walked away, disappearing into the shadows without giving me a chance to respond, to ask him what it all meant.

I pressed my hand against my chest, trying to calm the erratic beat of my heart. I didn’t know what to do with this—didn’t know how to handle the fire he’d ignited within me. All I knew was that I still felt him, in the warmth lingering on my lips, in the way my body ached to be close to him again, to feels his strong hands all over me.

I shook my head, letting out a shaky breath as I straightened. I couldn’t stay out here, couldn’t let myself get lost in the confusion and longing that threatened to overwhelm me. But as I stepped back toward the party, my thoughts were still consumed by him—by the kiss, by the emotions he’d unleashed, and by the way my heart seemed to ache in his absence.

I didn’t know what to think, didn’t know what to feel. All I knew was that Azriel had left his mark on me in a way that felt as permanent as the stars, and I wasn’t sure if I could ever let it go.

“Y/n?”

The voice startled me, and I turned to see Mor standing in the doorway, her golden hair catching the dim light spilling from Rita’s. Mor’s expression shifted from curiosity to concern as she took in my flushed face and the slightly dazed look in my eyes.

“What happened?” Mor asked, stepping closer, her voice softer now but laced with determination.

I hesitated, my fingers brushing my lips again before I let out a shaky breath. “Azriel,” I said simply, the name heavy with emotion.

Mor’s brows shot up, and she tilted her head, urging me to continue.

“He—he pulled me out here,” I said, my voice trembling slightly. “We argued about Lucien, about dancing with him. And then… he kissed me.”

Mor’s eyes widened, and she let out a low whistle, crossing her arms as she leaned against the wall beside me. “Well,” she said, dragging the word out. “That’s a development. What did you do?”

I pulled my hat off and ran a hand through my hair, as I tried to find the right words. “I kissed him back,” I admitted, my cheeks flushing. “But then he pulled away and apologized. And then he… he just walked away.”

Mor frowned, her expression darkening as she considered my words. “That idiot,” she muttered under her breath.

I turned to her, confused. “What do you think is happening, Mor? Why would he… why would he do that?”

Mor let out a sigh, shaking her head. “Azriel has spent his entire life keeping his emotions locked up, trying to convince himself he doesn’t deserve happiness. But you…” She gestured at me, a small smile tugging at her lips. “You’re the first person I’ve seen him look at like this. Like he can’t breathe when you’re not near him.”

I blinked, my breath hitching at Mor’s words. “But he apologized. He looked… regretful. Like it was a mistake.”

“That’s because he’s an idiot,” Mor said flatly, rolling her eyes. “He’s terrified, Y/n. He doesn’t know how to handle what he feels for you, and instead of facing it, he’s going to pretend it’s not there. Classic Az.”

I frowned, my confusion deepening. “What am I supposed to do with that? Just… wait for him to figure it out?”

Mor turned to me fully, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. “Absolutely not,” she said firmly. “What you’re going to do is refuse to let him ruin your night.”

Before I could respond, Mor grabbed my hand, tugging me toward the door. “The night is still young, and you’re not going to stand out here sulking because Azriel can’t get his head out of his ass.”

“Wait, Mor—” I started, but Mor cut her off with a determined shake of her head.

“Nope,” Mor said, her tone leaving no room for argument. “We’re leaving. We’re going to have fun. And I’m not taking no for an answer.”

Once inside, Mor scanned the room until her eyes landed on Lucien, still standing near the edge of the dance floor, looking mildly confused. She marched over with me reluctantly trailing behind her.

“Lucien,” Mor said, her tone bright and cheerful as she looped her arm through his. “We’re taking Y/n somewhere else. Another bar, something more fun. You in?”

Lucien glanced between Mor and I, his eye narrowing slightly as he seemed to piece together what had happened. But then he smiled, a small, knowing grin tugging at his lips. “Absolutely,” he said, his voice warm. “Lead the way.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but Mor silenced me with a pointed look. “You’re coming too, Y/n,” Mor said, tugging me along. “No arguments.”

Mor dropped Lucien’s arm, and he placed his hand on the small of my back to lead me out of the bar. As we turned toward the door, I froze for a moment, my heart skipping a beat. Azriel was standing near the bar, his arms crossed over his chest, his hazel eyes blazing as he watched us. The shadows around his feet were restless, curling and snapping in agitation, and his jaw was set in a hard line.

He didn’t move, didn’t speak, but his expression said everything. He was furious. With himself or with me, I wasn’t sure which.

I swallowed hard, my heart twisting at the sight of him, but Mor didn’t give me time to linger. She tugged me toward the exit, and Lucien with his hand at the small of my back, leading me out of of Rita’s and into the night.

I could still feel Azriel’s gaze burning into my back as we walked away, my thoughts a tangled mess of confusion, longing, and frustration. And as we headed down the street to another bar, I couldn’t shake the feeling that tonight was far from over.

******

Azriel POV

Azriel stormed back into the bar, the door slamming shut behind him as his shadows curled and snapped around his boots, reflecting the storm raging inside him. The kiss still burned on his lips, the feel of Y/n pressed against him seared into his memory, her moaning his name as his fingers found her wet and ready for him to take her. And yet, he had apologized. Called it a mistake. Even though every fiber of his being screamed that it wasn’t.

He made his way back to the bar, his jaw clenched and his hazel eyes blazing with frustration. Without a word, he motioned the bartender for a shot and swallowed it down, motioning for another and another drink, shooting them in succession, his throat burning, but it did nothing to dull the emotions tearing him apart.

“Azriel?” a soft voice called, tentative and concerned.

He turned his head slightly to see Elain approaching, her brows knitted together in worry. She looked delicate and lovely, as always, her voice a balm to some. But not to him. Not now.

“Are you alright?” she asked, stepping closer. Her hand reached out to touch his arm, a light, comforting gesture, but it only made his muscles tense further. “You seem… upset.”

Azriel didn’t answer, his eyes scanning the room until they landed on the door. And then, she walked back in.

Y/n.

Her blue eyes found his almost instantly, and the weight of her gaze made his chest tighten. She looked confused, vulnerable, and achingly beautiful as the faint glow of the lights caught on her dark hair. Lucien, his arm linked with Mor, came up beside her. Lucien moved his hand to rest lightly on the small of Y/n’s back as they moved through the crowd. The sight made Azriel’s grip on his glass tighten until it threatened to shatter.

Her eyes lingered on him for a moment, her expression sad, almost pleading, before she turned her gaze away and let Lucien lead her out of the bar, his hand still resting on the small of her back.

Azriel’s breath hitched, the ache in his chest unbearable. He barely noticed Elain leaning closer, her voice soft in his ear as she tried to offer more words of comfort. “Azriel, do you want to talk? Maybe we can—”

“Not now,” Azriel snapped, his voice low but sharp. He shook her off, stepping away from her touch.

Elain blinked, startled by his tone, and took a step back, her lips parting as though she wanted to say more. But Azriel’s focus wasn’t on her. His hazel eyes remained locked on Y/n as she moved toward the door with Lucien.

When she disappeared from sight, Azriel let out a harsh breath and turned back to the bar, signaling the bartender for another shot. He drank heavily, his shadows swirling more erratically now, their movements mirroring the turmoil within him.

Cassian appeared beside him, his brows furrowed as he leaned against the bar. “What the hell is going on, Az?” he asked, his voice low but laced with concern. “You’ve been storming around like you’re ready to kill someone. And what was that with Elain?”

Azriel didn’t respond immediately, his gaze fixed on the glass in his hand as though it held answers to questions he couldn’t ask.

Cassian narrowed his eyes, his tone sharper now. “Fine. If you don’t want to talk about Elain, then let’s talk about Y/n. What happened with her?”

Azriel’s grip on his glass tightened, the tension in his body palpable. He exhaled sharply, his jaw clenching as he muttered, “Nothing worth talking about.”

“Bullshit,” Cassian said, crossing his arms. “You’re drinking like a madman, glaring at Lucien like you want to rip his head off, and Y/n looked like she’d just been through hell. What. Happened?”

Azriel’s hazel eyes darkened, his shadows flaring briefly as he shot Cassian a warning look. “Leave it, Cassian.”

But Cassian didn’t back down. “Brother,” he said, his voice quieter but no less firm, “if you don’t claim her, someone else will.”

A low growl rumbled in Azriel’s chest, quiet but unmistakable. His shadows snapped around his boots, restless and agitated, as his wings flared slightly. “Don’t,” he warned, his voice edged with fury.

Cassian raised a brow, unfazed by the reaction. “I don’t understand you,” he said, his tone laced with frustration. “You’re clearly losing your mind over her, but instead of doing something about it, you’re standing here drinking yourself into a rage.”

Azriel turned away, his hands gripping the edge of the bar as he tried to steady himself. “It’s not that simple,” he said finally, his voice low and rough.

Cassian shook his head, a mixture of sympathy and exasperation crossing his face. “You’re going to lose her, Az. And when you do, you’ll only have yourself to blame.”

Azriel didn’t respond, his gaze fixed on the glass in his hand. The shadows around him stilled briefly, as though even they were holding their breath.

But Cassian’s words lingered, cutting through the haze of anger and confusion like a blade. And as Azriel poured himself another drink, his mind raced with the one thought he couldn’t escape: he didn’t deserve her. But gods, how he wanted her anyway.

******

Y/n POV

As the three of us walked down the bustling streets of Velaris, the music and chatter of Rita’s fading behind us, Lucien glanced down at me, his amber eye gleaming with curiosity. He shifted slightly, then draped his arm casually around my shoulders, pulling me close enough to block the chill of the night air.

“All right,” he said, his tone light but probing. “Are you going to tell me what happened back there, or do I have to guess?”

I tensed slightly under his arm, and glanced up at him, my eyes still shadowed with the confusion and emotions swirling inside me. “It’s… complicated,” I said finally, my voice quiet.

“Complicated?” Lucien echoed, his brows arching as he studied me. “Y/n, you looked like you’d seen a ghost when Mor dragged you back inside. Then there’s Azriel, glaring at me like he’s about to summon the shadows to throttle me. That doesn’t exactly scream ‘complicated.’ It screams drama.”

Before I could answer, Mor let out a snort of laughter, her golden hair catching the moonlight as she turned to look at us. “Oh, it’s definitely drama,” she said, her tone teasing but edged with a knowing sharpness.

Lucien tilted his head at Mor. “Care to share, oh wise one?”

Mor grinned, tossing a glance at me, who groaned softly in response. “Azriel kissed her,” Mor said matter-of-factly, her grin widening as Lucien’s eyebrows shot up.

“Kissed her?” Lucien repeated, his voice filled with surprise. He looked down at me again, his arm still resting comfortably across my shoulders. “That’s what this is about? The Shadowsinger finally made a move and then what, freaked out and left?”

I let out a shaky sigh, wrapping my arms around myself as we walked. “We argued about… you,” I admitted, my cheeks flushing slightly. “He was upset about us dancing, about how it looked. And then, out of nowhere, he kissed me. But then he apologized and walked away like it was a mistake.”

Lucien whistled low under his breath, his grip on my shoulder tightening slightly in a reassuring gesture. “That explains the death glare,” he said, his voice laced with dry humor. “But why in the world would he think it was a mistake?”

Mor rolled her eyes, her pace quickening as she turned to walk backward so she could face us. “Because Azriel is Azriel,” she said, her tone exasperated. “He’s terrified of his feelings, convinced he doesn’t deserve happiness, and instead of owning up to what he clearly feels for her, he’s probably sulking back at Rita’s, brooding and feeling sorry for himself.”

Lucien raised a brow at her, his smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You sound like you’ve rehearsed that.”

“Oh, trust me, I’ve had plenty of practice when it comes to Azriel and his brooding,” Mor replied, her grin sharp. She turned to me, pointing a finger at me. “But you, my dear, are not going to let him ruin your night. If he wants to sit there sulking in the corner, that’s on him. You? You’re going to have fun.”

I glanced between Mor and Lucien, my chest tightening as I tried to process everything that had happened. I could still feel the heat of Azriel’s kiss, the way his shadows had curled around us like they were in our own world. But then there was the regret in his eyes as he pulled away, the way he’d disappeared into the night like he couldn’t face what he’d done.

“I don’t know what to think,” I admitted softly, my voice barely audible over the buzz of the city.

Lucien’s arm tightened around my shoulders again, and he tilted his head to catch my gaze. “Then don’t think,” he said gently. “Just let yourself have a good time tonight. Whatever Azriel’s deal is, it’s his to figure out. You don’t owe him anything, Y/n.”

Mor nodded firmly, spinning back around as they approached the glowing lights of another bar. “Exactly. Let him stew in his own mess while we drink and dance and remind Velaris why we’re the most fun people in this court.”

I couldn’t help but laugh softly at Mor’s enthusiasm, a small smile tugging at my lips. “Fine,” I said, my voice a little stronger. “You’re both impossible, but fine.”

“That’s the spirit,” Mor said, grabbing Lucien’s other arm and pulling him toward the bar. “Come on, let’s show this place what a real party looks like.”

And as we stepped inside, I allowed myself, for just a little while, to focus on the warmth of my friends and the noise of the crowd. But no matter how much I tried to push it away, the feel of Azriel’s lips on mine, and the fire he’d ignited, lingered in the back of my mind, a constant reminder of the storm waiting for me when the night finally ended.

******

Azriel POV

Azriel returned to the House of Wind in the dead of night, the city lights of Velaris twinkling faintly behind him as he stepped into the quiet halls. His shadows curled around him, restless and agitated, mirroring the storm inside his chest. The memory of Y/n —her lips, her scent, her touch—was etched into his mind, refusing to fade no matter how hard he tried to drown it out.

He made his way to the sitting room, bypassing the dimly glowing hearth to grab the bottle of whiskey on the side table. Without bothering to pour a glass, he sank into one of the chairs, his wings drooping behind him as he uncorked the bottle and took a long drink. The burn down his throat was sharp and welcome, but it did little to numb the ache in his chest.

He wanted her. Gods, how he wanted her. It wasn’t just her beauty—though that alone could bring him to his knees. It was her strength, her fire, the way her laugh lit up a room and the way she met him as an equal, challenging him at every turn. She had walked into his life and completely undone him, and now he didn’t know how to exist without her.

But she didn’t know. She didn’t know about the bond thrumming between them, didn’t know that every glance, every touch, every word they exchanged felt like a piece of his soul being stitched back together. And she couldn’t know. Because no matter how much he wanted her—needed her—he couldn’t allow himself to have her.

He took another long swig from the bottle, his hazel eyes narrowing as his mind replayed the events of the night. The way Lucien’s hand had rested so casually on her waist, the way they had laughed together like they shared secrets no one else could touch. The way Lucien had touched what was his.

A low growl rumbled in Azriel’s chest, his shadows lashing out and curling along the edges of the room.

Lucien.

He had wanted to rip him apart right there in the bar, to throw him against the wall and make it clear that Y/n wasn’t his to touch.

Azriel’s grip tightened around the bottle, his knuckles whitening as he tried to steady the fury building inside him. He hated the possessiveness that roared to life whenever he saw her with someone else, hated how it made him feel out of control, like a beast barely contained. But what he hated most was the jealousy—the quiet, insidious voice in his mind that whispered he might lose her to someone else. To someone better.

Because he didn’t deserve her.

That truth had always loomed over him like a shadow. His past was steeped in blood and darkness, his hands stained with the lives he had taken, the lives he had ruined. He was broken, fractured in ways that could never be healed, and he had spent centuries convincing himself that he wasn’t worthy of happiness. Of love.

Y/n deserved more than him. She deserved light and laughter and someone who could give her the world without the weight of shadows dragging her down. And even though every part of him screamed to claim her, to tell her the truth, he knew he couldn’t.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he stared into the flickering firelight. The bottle dangled loosely from his hand, forgotten for the moment as his mind raced. He had to push her away, no matter how much it hurt. No matter how much it killed him to see her sad, to see her confused, to see her walking away with someone who wasn’t him.

This was better. Safer. For her, if not for him.

But as the night dragged on and the whiskey did little to dull the longing that consumed him, Azriel couldn’t help but wonder if he was lying to himself. If, perhaps, pushing her away wasn’t about protecting her—but about punishing himself.

The thought lingered as he took another swig, the shadows coiling tighter around him like they could hold him together. But even they couldn’t drown out the bond humming faintly in the back of his mind, reminding him of what could never be.

Azriel leaned back in the chair, the bottle of whiskey dangling loosely from his fingers as he took another long drink. The firelight flickered across his face, casting shadows over the sharp planes of his jaw and the tight set of his lips. He barely felt the burn anymore; the alcohol did nothing to quiet the storm in his chest.

He tilted his head back, staring at the ceiling as he let out a slow, shaky breath. But the memory of her wouldn’t leave him. Her azure-blue eyes, the way they had looked at him when she thought he wasn’t watching. The softness of her lips against his, the fire in her touch when she kissed him back. It had been everything he had ever wanted, everything he hadn’t dared to dream of—and he had thrown it away.

This was a mistake.

The words had left his mouth like a blade, cutting through the moment they had shared, tearing apart something he hadn’t even allowed himself to fully acknowledge. Because how could he admit it? That she was his. That the bond between them hummed in his chest like a constant reminder, one she knew nothing about, an ache that grew stronger every time he pushed her away.

He took another drink, the liquid spilling slightly over his lips as his grip tightened around the bottle. His shadows swirled restlessly, curling around his boots and stretching toward the empty room like they were searching for something—someone. They knew what he wanted. Who he wanted.

She. Is. Mine.

The thought slammed into him, raw and possessive. Lucien’s hand on her waist, the way he had looked at her like she belonged to him. Azriel growled low in his throat, the sound rumbling in the silence as his shadows snapped angrily around him.

The words echoed in his mind, unspoken but undeniable. His hand clenched around the neck of the bottle, his knuckles white as the jealousy roared to life again. He could still see it—Lucien’s fingers resting too low on her waist, the way he leaned into her laugh like he had a right to be close to her. It made Azriel’s blood boil, the possessive fury threatening to consume him.

He drained the bottle, the whiskey burning as it slid down his throat, but it wasn’t enough. He grabbed another from the side table, his movements jerky and frustrated as he uncorked it and took a deep swig. He wanted to rip Lucien apart, to tear him limb from limb for daring to touch what wasn’t his.

As the fire burned low and the night stretched on, Azriel drank and brooded, drowning in the desperate, aching need for the mate he couldn’t have—and the fury at anyone who dared to touch her.

******

Y/n POV

The House of Wind was quiet as Lucien and I stepped inside, the chill of the night air following them. Lucien’s arm rested comfortably around my waist, his touch light but familiar as we walked together. We were laughing softly, an inside joke from our walk still lingering between us, the warmth of the evening’s distraction temporarily easing the tension that had haunted me since leaving Rita’s.

My soft laugh echoed in the quiet hall, but it quickly faded when we stepped into the main sitting room and saw Azriel.

He was slouched in one of the armchairs near the fire, a bottle of amber liquid in his hand, his wings draped loosely over the sides of the chair. The flickering firelight cast sharp shadows over his face, but his expression was clear—dark, brooding, and furious. His hazel eyes immediately locked onto both of us, narrowing as his gaze fell to Lucien’s arm around my waist.

The temperature in the room seemed to drop.

Lucien’s laugh died in his throat, his posture shifting slightly as he caught Azriel’s glare. He didn’t remove his arm from my waist, though I stiffened under his touch as I felt the tension radiating from the Spymaster.

“Well,” Lucien said lightly, his voice breaking the heavy silence, though his amber eye remained fixed on Azriel. “I think that’s my cue to disappear.” He gave me a small smile, his grip on my waist tightening briefly before he let his arm fall away. “I’ll be upstairs if you need me.”

Lucien turned to Azriel briefly, offering him a polite nod, but Azriel didn’t respond. Instead, a sharp, sarcastic laugh escaped him, cold and cutting as his shadows curled more tightly around his boots. The sound stopped Lucien in his tracks, his eye narrowing as he looked back over his shoulder, but he didn’t say anything. After a brief pause, he continued up the stairs, leaving me and Azriel alone.

My heart pounded as I turned to face Azriel, unsure of what to expect. His hazel eyes burned into mine, blazing with intensity as he sat forward in his chair, his wings shifting slightly behind him. His shadows were restless, agitated, curling and snapping at the ground as though reflecting the storm raging within him.

“Y/n,” he said, his voice low and rough, cutting through the silence.

I hesitated, unsure if I wanted to confront whatever this was. But despite myself, I stepped closer.

“I’m sorry,” Azriel said, his tone softer now but filled with a heaviness that made my chest tighten. “For what happened in the alley.”

My stomach twisted at his words, the memory of his kiss rushing back with vivid clarity. My lips parted, but before I could speak, he continued.

“Kissing you was a mistake,” he said, his voice quieter now, as though the words were hard to say. His hazel eyes searched mine, filled with conflict and something that looked like longing. “I shouldn’t have done it.”

I froze, the words sinking into me like a heavy stone. I crossed my arms tightly over my chest, my wings, now un-glamoured, twitching slightly as I stood there, staring at him.

“I let my emotions get the better of me,” Azriel said, his jaw tightening as he looked away. “It wasn’t… right.”

I didn’t respond. The weight of his words left me breathless, and the look in his eyes only deepened the ache in my chest.

A mistake.

Kissing me was a mistake.

A mistake he regretted making.

Without a word, I turned and walked toward the stairs, my steps deliberate and measured. I was determined I was not going to break down in front of him. I didn’t look back, but I could feel his gaze on me, burning into me like the firelight that flickered around him.

As I ascended the stairs, my thoughts swirled with confusion and frustration, Azriel’s words echoed in my mind.

When I reached my room and closed the door softly behind me, the silence was deafening. And as I leaned against the door, my hands trembling slightly, I realized I wasn’t sure if I was angrier at him for calling the kiss a mistake—or at myself for how much I had wanted it not to be.

My chest ached as the sound of the latch clicking into place echoed in the silence. The weight of the night pressed down on me, the tension, the confusion, and Azriel’s words swirling in my mind like a storm I couldn’t escape.

The words hit me over and over, sharp and cutting, as though they were etched into my soul. I leaned back against the door, my wings trembling slightly as my knees gave way. Slowly, I slid down to the floor, my arms wrapping tightly around myself as the first tear slipped down my cheek.

I tried to hold it back, tried to swallow the lump in my throat, but the dam broke, and a quiet sob escaped my lips. My hands pressed against my face as my shoulders shook, the pain in my chest overwhelming. I wanted him so badly—wanted his touch, his warmth, his love. But he didn’t want me. He wanted Elain. He chose her.

The thought gutted me. I had seen the way Azriel looked at Elain, the softness in his hazel eyes, the careful way he spoke to her. Even if Elain was distant, even if she hadn’t chosen him, it didn’t matter. I knew Azriel’s heart wasn’t mine to claim. And that knowledge left me feeling hollow.

So why did he kiss me? I thought, the memory of his lips against mine flooding my mind. Why did it feel so real? But then, he’d pulled away, apologized, and called it a mistake. The pain of it felt unbearable, a wound that cut deeper than I wanted to admit.

My cries softened after a while, turning into quiet, trembling breaths as I sat there on the floor, my head resting against the door, the ache in my chest grow stronger.

******

Azriel POV

Azriel stood at the base of the stairs, staring up at the quiet hallway where Y/n had disappeared moments ago. His bottle sat abandoned in the sitting room, the firelight dimming in his absence. His wings shifted slightly, his shadows curling around him as though urging him to follow her.

He didn’t know why he was doing this. He didn’t know why he had let the argument escalate, why he had kissed her, or why he had apologized afterward. The only thing he did know was that it had taken everything in him to pull away from her. Because kissing her, feeling his arousal for him on his fingers, her scent enveloping him… it hadn’t felt like a mistake. It had felt like everything.

Slowly, he ascended the stairs, his steps light but deliberate. He didn’t stop until he was outside her door, his shadows curling under the crack and pressing against the barrier like they wanted to reach her. He leaned against the wall, closing his eyes briefly, trying to steady the storm inside him.

Then he heard it.

The soft sound of her crying.

The noise pierced through him, shattering the fragile control he had been clinging to. He straightened, his hand hovering just above the door as his heart twisted in his chest. He wanted to go in, to pull her into his arms, to tell her he hadn’t meant what he’d said—that she wasn’t a mistake, that she could never be a mistake.

But he didn’t.

His hand fell to his side, his jaw tightening as he took a step back. He knew better. He wasn’t good enough for her. He never would be. She deserved someone who could offer her everything, someone who wasn’t broken, who didn’t carry the shadows of his past like chains around his soul. Someone who wasn’t him.

He closed his eyes again, forcing himself to turn away from the door. As much as it hurt to hear her cry, to know that he had caused her pain, he told himself this was the right thing to do. Pushing her away now was better—better for her, better for them both. He couldn’t be what she needed, no matter how much he wanted to.

Azriel’s wings drooped slightly as he moved down the hall, his steps heavy, his shadows unusually subdued. And as he disappeared into the darkness of his own room, the sound of her quiet sobs echoed in his mind, a reminder of everything he wanted but would never allow himself to have.

Chapter 13

#azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #azriel x reader #azriel #azriel fanfic #azriel fanfiction #acotar #acotar fanfiction

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onlyseokmins · 9 months ago

Text

$$60 billion (part 1) • 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: eventual 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, death, gore, guns, injuries, destruction, mentions of knives, weapons, violence, creepy monsters and creatures, ptsd, moral ambiguities, dark topics tbh, smoking, unsettling space western things, slight body horror and hints at altered dna, weird religious cults, mentions of eating/food, alcohol, threats, bets among friends, platonic (but not really) nakedness, reader is operating on a short fuse bc I believe u have to be built different for this universe, their communication is abt to be as poor as the plant life 💀 Seungcheol kinda his own warning imho, biggest apology to chan, and we all love seok sm bc he sings abt total slaughter 🙇🏻‍♀️ WC: 19.5k of 32.7k | Part 2 | 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 feel like the boys may seem ooc but I had a lot of fun putting this together 😌 Thank you Summer and Isa for hosting this collab and your utmost patience in me finally writing my piece! I hope everyone enjoys this and please check out the other writers in this amazing collab ❤️let me know your thoughts and feel free to ask any questions regarding this au's intricacies!!

Everyone wanted Lee Seokmin.

The cities' great militaries. Bounty hunters. Bandits on the roads. Criminals escaping death row. Prowling pirate gangs. His twin brother. You.

Though you reckoned your "want" for him was a bit… different from others. Well, at least you hope so, goddamn it.

You shiver.

At first, you wanted him just like the mass majority would one day as well — dead. The deed swiftly carried out with a silver pistol aimed at his temple.

Besides, your blood-thirst began before the destruction of July. Unlike most, who angrily shake their fists at the gaping crater on the fifth moon in the spirit of pure vengeance. Yes, the tragic incident of the great city that upped the bounty dangling over his head like a noose to a sixty billion double dollars reward. But Little Ivywood was the first of many places that would end up reduced to ruins after Lee Seokmin set foot there.

Wiped off the map. Wiped from history. Wiped from existence. But never forgotten. Especially not by the small town's only known survivor — you.

Your earliest memories contain little about the events that led up to being left on the doorstep of Little Ivywood's unofficial orphanage. How could they when you were just a baby? One swaddled in a ratty cloth weighted down by a rusted pistol. There was just one simple hint to your past — scribbled nearly illegible on a torn piece of paper dotted with blood — and could only be what the nuns had to assume was your name.

At least that's how Sister Meryl relayed the tale whenever asked, her hands clasped tightly together in praise and gratitude to the Saint that delivered you to them unharmed. The irony, considering Sister Lucia always looks like she'll faint just like the day she opened the convent's side door. It wasn't an easy sight to see or recall, the image of a wailing infant mouthing on the empty muzzle of a gun.

Neither versions of your origin story could be that far off thanks to the scar marring your left hand and the gun held tightly in your right. You've had both for as long as you can remember. And as you grew and changed, so did they.

The scar shrunk and faded through the years, seemingly forgotten amongst a myriad of other markings littered across your skin. Over time, the pistol's rusted parts were repaired or replaced and soon, its shine and character returned. Restored to its former glory while forging a new beginning ahead with a different owner.

But there were two things that stayed constant throughout your years at the orphanage. The first was your birth name. Not even the nuns, who generally loved bestowing scriptural monikers as if they were granting rich titles to unnamed orphans, tried to change yours. The second was a person who you still refuse to call by his baptismal name — Chan.

He helped you, became an assistant of sorts. Originally just some snot-nosed, beanpole of a fellow orphan you didn't really pay much attention to. A scared kid who cried way too loudly even after you'd even taken the time to demonstrate that the gun was safe after he'd been the one continuously pestering to see it. Very much to Sister Constance's chagrin, since it all went down in the middle of confessional time.

But curiosity eventually overturned the initial fear.

Lucky, because by acquiring bravery, Chan could discover his innate talent for gunsmithing. Lanky, noodle arms transformed into well-formed, sinewy muscles. The soft baby skin of his hands roughened with callouses as he whittled away near the convent's underground furnace. He'd spend hours down there, returning with sweat, grime, and charcoal smudged all over his skin after melting together the random metal objects found by digging beneath the basement's unfinished floor.

The Sisters disliked dirt and grime all over the children and tracked through the doors. But it was hard to keep clean out in the middle of a sandy desert. Complaints dwindled thanks to the fellow orphans who would stop their mischief to watch Chan work. And as time passed, his shoulders broadened further, his voice began to deepen, his dark hair grew longer, and those brown eyes started to sparkle with something different from simple, fleeting passion — it was a dream.

The excitable boy would tell you all about it under the stars. Late into the nights when you searched for what had to be remnants of Earthen materials from the Big Fall, he'd chatter on and on.

"Once we're actual adults," — free from the guardianship requirement provided from the orphanage — "we're gonna leave Lil Ivywood behind and explore the great wastelands of Gunsmoke!"

You snort at the ridiculousness of such an idea. "And how do you think we'll survive?"

"Easy-peasy, I'm gonna build a bunch of guns and we're gonna end up so rich. And famous!"

"Yeah, sure. Throw a couple double dollars at the worms, I'm sure they'll let us pass with no problem."

Not one to be deterred by your eternal sarcasm, Chan shakes his head."Nah, that's where you come in. Didn't think I'd let you freeload, right?"

He stands and stretches both of his arms straight out, the ones your roommate had started to gush over. Hands clasped together like Sister Meryl's always do before prayer time and then extending both pointer fingers into a mock handgun, out into the distant sand dunes one rarely dares to stray.

"You gotta be a sharpshooter to not let my hard work go to waste!"

You lazily take aim next to him, handling the freshly restored pistol with uncharacteristic gentleness. While it might officially be yours, it's also Chan's baby.

"Mm-hm, me and my killer skills."

And then you both dissolve into laughter.

It was such a pipe dream and yet; it didn't seem utterly impossible. There were little moments you let yourself imagine it, too — just until the suns peep their heads above the horizon. There was no way you could defend yourself — let alone another person — from the dangers of the desert or it would've been something you'd attempted years ago.

But when Chan spoke of his plans under the glow of the orbiting full moons, confidently mapping an adventure through an area he's never been to or seen before, and dreamed — he easily pulled you under his spell too. It was contagious, exciting, addicting, and most of all — it could really be… possible.

An armory of grade-A weapons. The bank account overflowing with double dollars. Endless boxes of bullets and the refined skills to shoot them; you were the force to be reckoned with and a protector of those who couldn't do it for themselves.

"Do you think… we could really succeed?" you ask one night, running a finger along the familiar engravings on your gun's grip panel.

Chan's grin was as shiny as the circular metal shell he was carving into. You refuse to look his way because of how infectious it could be. Plus, the main reason it was so stinking bright was due to this being the first time you verbally entertained his ideas.

"Oh-ho-ho, doubt my capabilities?"

"Obviously."

If offended — he was not — by the instant agreement, there was no sign of it. Instead, he focused back onto his handicraft, knowing you would eventually spill your true thoughts if he was patient.

There was no rush tonight after all. A star-filled expanse of black blanketed across the sky — one he hoped would never change to blue.

"More like… it's just going to be so risky!"

"And that's why you'll be the —"

"But I've never even held a gun before!" You spot Chan pointedly direct the corner of his gaze to where your hands rest, causing you to flinch them away from the weapon and wave around haphazardly as your cheeks heat. "I mean, like, to shoot! Sister Lucia always says it'd be too dangerous."

"Sister Lucia thinks water that doesn't flow directly out of the holy grail is dangerous."

"Technically, that's true."

"Oh god, she's got you thinkin' the same, too!"

"But she'd probably rather swear by the Saint than ever let me get any bullets…" The thought alone of the devout nun saying the Savior's name in vain makes both of you smirk but yours falls just as quick as it came. "And we're going to need those if we ever want to leave Little Ivywood."

"Well —"

"And I… I'd have to kill things! People, too. I don't know if I can do that, I —"

" — Think fast!"

It's his turn to interrupt, chipper voice ever optimistic as he tosses the finished trinket your way. Thankfully, your reflexes work fast enough to catch it nimbly in time. The oval is hot to the touch after hovering over searing flames and despite its small size, weighs down your right palm as you glance over its etchings.

Satisfied, Chan takes that as his cue to walk toward the nook that shields you from the roaring heat of the furnace. Squatting down so he's eye-level with your knees, he brushes back his tangled mess of hair with one hand and taps knowingly at the barrel of the pistol with the other.

"There's no reason to kill anyone or anything."

"But this can hurt people… I could hurt people."

"You've had this ever since you were a baby and never harmed anyone with it."

"It's… it's never been loaded or…"

"Doesn't need to be. If you smacked someone with it, they'd surely feel that hit." He snickers, tone bordering on the edge of cockiness. "I would know, considering the sturdy and valuable materials used for repairs."

You roll your eyes and mutter, "Show-off," but it lacks true malice behind it.

"And even so," Chan takes one of his hands and pats the back of your free one, unintentionally right over the spot where your scar lies. "You've hurt no one before. Not even me, who annoys you the most!"

"About time you finally realized how merciful I am."

He says your name in earnest, remaining uncharacteristically serious and lays your intertwined hands on top of the gun before squeezing tightly. "Both this and you don't have to kill a single thing or person — ever — if that's not what you want to do. You can aim for non-vital points, shoot up in the air… Bullets or no bullets, just the sight of a weapon alone can be enough of a deterrent for most."

Chewing hesitantly on your lower lip, you let his words sink in and he continues.

"The fact you're aware of the hundreds of risks when handling a weapon like this means you'll be even more cautious when using it. I trust you, so trust in yourself."

Warmth spreads from your interlocked hands and through your entire body like you're wrapped in another one of his sweet hugs, culminating into tears threatening to spill past your lash line. Chan believed in you and though you'd never admit it aloud, it meant the world to you.

"When did you grow up so much?" you tease, letting out an exhale you didn't realize was being held.

"Aw, c'mon! I've been taller than you for months now!"

"Keep dreamin' if it makes you feel better."

Though Chan sasses back by sticking his tongue out, he lets you ruffle his sweaty bangs despite receiving a slightly bruised forehead in return because you forget about the new gift in your hand. Plotting an escape, he stands and pulls you up with him, joined by your clasped hands.

"We should probably head back. Sister Constance's likely gonna ask us to check the Plant before morning mass and you don't want her to catch you dozing off again."

"Last I recall, you were the one she caught napping!"

"But you have the most demerits this week."

"And whose fault is that?!"

Quick as lightning, he nudges you with enough strength to catch you off guard and destabilize your balance. Then he tears away, calling over his shoulder, "Snooze and ya lose!"

"Ugh, this is exactly why — you never play fair!"

Regathering your bearings at record speed, you dash right after Chan. The boy's raucous laughter echoes in your own lungs and you swear the stars twinkle brighter in the nighttime sky. You overtake him right before reaching the convent's door — the same one you were left on — and clutch at his arm before he can reach past to open it.

"Hey… thanks."

He grins all goofy. Chan's well aware you mean much more than that, but he opts to flick your forehead rather than give you grief over it. "Yeah, yeah. I do so much for you, you know?"

"Mm-hm."

"So it's about time to finally pick a name I can carve onto that bad boy. If you don't, I'll put mine there." He nods to your gun excitedly, then points to the oval. "Oh, and I'll make a chain for that soon. Did you decide what you'll put inside?"

"Questions, questions, demands, demands." You wave him off and open the door with a yawn. "I'll think of one. And yeah, you know that Earthen gadget we found? Gonna cut out those papers and put them in there before sleeping."

Once while digging for materials, you had stumbled across a square object that wasn't completely destroyed, unlike many others. After a few experiments of messing with the random knobs and buttons, you determined it could mimic whatever was directly in front of the clear coated lenses. And later — much to your amusement and amazement — it printed out the image on thick, shiny squares.

Fascinating little things those Earthlings created!

You'd luckily put the last few sheets left in the machine to good use. Experimenting with the surrounding scenery that blurrily featured some of Ivywood's buildings, then one of Chan, and finally wrangled a frame that captured both of you together.

"Do you think you'll be able to stabilize it?"

Your tentative question makes him look toward the large, bulbous structure that houses the Plant. The power source Little Ivywood depended upon.

He sports a cheery grin. "Won't know 'til I've tried!"

"Ever considered too much confidence might be a bad thing?"

"If you're jealous, just say so. But with you by my side, there's nothing we can't accomplish together!" He bounces excitedly on his heels. "Besides, I forgot to mention…" Beckoning you with a hand to come closer, you lean in, curious. "I've become quite the master at bargaining. There won't be a single worm who'll refuse a double dollar from the great Chan!"

"What did you do?"

"What haven't I done?"

"You're the worst. Like to ever exist."

"The absolute best, you mean 'cause there'll be no reason for you to waste any bullets or fear cutting a single lifespan short!"

"Goodnight, Chan."

"You mean 'thank you so much, what would I ever do without you, Chan!' but whatever! You can make it up to me tomorrow!"

But tomorrow never came.

Or rather — daybreak arrived in the unrecognizable form of rapid gunfire and screams of terror. The buildings rattled, trembled, and shook from the onslaught just like the people cowering in fear within them.

The dust stirred up in the chapel's hall after a wall unexpectedly collapsed causes you to cough. Amidst the chaos and panic, you spare a glance over your shoulder to see Sister Meryl, who strides confidently to the altar.

She stands with poise and purpose in front of the marbled stone. Steadfast and unwavering in strength because of her faith alone, even as the grand statue of the Saint starts crumbling down with the ceiling tiles falling around it.

It's a visual you're not likely to forget, carved deep into your memory before you flee with the rest. Sister Lucia is flustered as usual, ushering everyone as fast as she can near the grand oak doors that lead out to where additional shouting can be heard and only more pandemonium must await outside.

You're struck with the damning realization.

The gods — they have completely abandoned humankind.

"That would be ten demerits any other day," Sister Constance voice abruptly snaps, "fortunately for you, now is not the time for such things."

It's astonishing how even at this moment, the nun remains on high alert for 'troublemakers'. Her sharp-nailed fingers latch around your wrist as she breezes by — much too similar to when you've been dragged off to detention. And as if that's what's happening, your heels plant firmly in the ground and obstinately tug her back a step.

"What about Sister Meryl? We can't just leave!"

"If you knew what was good for you, you'll obediently obey me. But if you knew that, you'd recognize faithfulness will guide her and the rest of us to safety."

"Nothing guarantees —"

"Those who do not devote themselves truthfully will never understand. Should the Saint deem Sister Meryl's sacrifice to be in vain, then she has failed not only the Holy Bishop and our sacred bonds, but you — one she unnecessarily dotes on — as well."

You want to argue and protest as Sister Constance yanks you forward. But the faint tremors you feel despite the tight grip of her hand and the tensed jawline of the woman whose stoic face is normally unbreakable makes you pause.

She's shaken. She's unsure. She's wavering.

Sister Constance doubts.

And something about that thrills you. Terrifyingly so.

The shock of it all is as startling as the pale sunlight blinding your eyes when the chapel's heavy doors finally get thrown open. Grains of sand swirl through Little Ivywood, diluting the usual brightness of the glowing orbs in the sky and their powerful rays.

A sandstorm brews on the horizon.

That's the least of your worries, though. Blood stains the soil where shrapnel grazed tender flesh. Fellow orphans scream and cry out from their wounds as they struggle to get away from the captors attempting to drag them to the center of town.

With a chill, you alarmingly realize who they're trying to escape from. Women in black and white robes don a wild, crazed look on their faces. The ones who have raised and cared for parentless children throughout many years and tended to every need they could within their means.

The Blessed and Holy Sisterhood of Little Ivywood.

Sister Constance turns and you jump. Both at the horrors of the present and a reminder of how many times a quick movement of hers led to the sharp pain of a switch or ruler tearing into skin. An eerie sound of laughter rings out and your blood runs cold, eyes darting left and right for the source.

And then through the dust particles, looms the sinister silhouette of a figure in a long trench coat flapping in the wind. Spiked hair sticks straight up, retaining its menacing style despite the powerful wind gusts and emphasizing an already impressive height. You gulp, swearing there's a flash of metal followed by a fanged smirk that glints dangerously as Sister Constance tugs you closer to the terrifying shadow beast shrouded by sand swirling in the air.

A declaration of your given name — stern and cold. "Know that your purpose is being fulfilled, that you are serving the great —"

And then comes a shout of your name, this time from someone desperate and panicked. You're yanked forward and then suddenly catapulted backward, grunting at the impact of your body slamming against someone else's.

"You need to go! You need to get out of here!"

"Chan?!"

He clings to you, shifting so his back is to the nun only a few paces past the corner he dashed around for safety and to stall for time. Throwing a cautious look over his shoulder before whispering urgently, "Go! And don't look back!"

"What about you?"

"Don't mind me." The smooth leather of a satchel presses against your palm. "Get movin'!"

"But —"

"Seriously," the boy shoves you forward with a not-so-gentle push. You gape at the audacity and he waves his hand, like he's shooing away a pesky flying worm. Rude. "Please! I'll be right behind you but —"

An eruption of nearby gunfire and a series of high-pitched shing!-like noises interrupt him. He glances again over his shoulder. You cautiously step forward and his head whips back to let out a hiss.

"Chan, what's —"

"Need to grab a few more things, see if any other idiots need help. Just… just get out of town, wait for me by the rocks if it'll make you feel better." He smiles, though it doesn't make those brown eyes of his sparkle like usual. "It'll… it'll all be okay."

You're uncertain and scared. But something about Chan's speaking powers have always made you believe in the impossible. So, you nod resolutely while taking the bag from him and warn, "Promise you'll be safe."

"You hate those kinds of things."

It's true. To you, promises were only made to be broken. And yet…

"… And somehow you've changed my mind before."

The bangs of carnage draw closer. Louder.

"Fine, just go. Please! And don't look back!"

Acquiescing to his pleas, you sprint toward where he pointed. Sitting like giant sentinels lays an outcrop of boulders bordering the western edge of Little Ivywood. The desert is only two paces away, expanding outward into a desolate plain filled with the undulating slopes of dunes. Picking a sizable rock to hide behind, you keep watch for Chan, cringing at the distant sound of gunshots still rapidly being fired.

What was that? What did you see? And what did you almost get dragged into?

What was going on?

Boom!

It's an ear-shattering noise that causes even the great stones around you to tremble from the explosion. A flare of light so bright leaves you no choice but to look away to protect your eyes, ducking behind the rocks as a shield.

When you recover after it dissipates to see what just happened — Little Ivywood is no more.

It's gone.

"No…"

The tiny town reduced to only rubble and ash. What once were rows of square buildings stacked on top of each other to divert the view of a relatively flat lay of the land are now parallel to its surroundings.

"No… no… no…"

Gone.

You don't think twice about running toward the wreckage. Chan is there. Chan has to be there!

"No!"

And most importantly, he has to be alright.

Broken piles of the shoddy architecture littering the landscape prevents you from traversing too far. Bile rises in your throat as you desperately scan for a sign — any sign — for Chan. For survivors. For anyone. Even the air is still, no longer rippling with irritable heat waves and heavy gusts of wind because the blast was strong enough to ward off nature itself and the incoming sandstorm.

For now.

And during the futile search, that's when you spot him. On his knees with his back to you, slouched over in the only clear space amidst the destruction. The tattered fabric of a cerise garment hangs off the man's broad shoulders and pools around his body like a puddle of blood. Reddish-brown bangs tinged with black hang limply as his chin curls further and further into his chest.

I don't understand, you vent to yourself after a couple ungraceful vaults and stumbling through the debris to get closer. This bastard got what he wanted, did what he wanted, and won! So, why is he acting like that? Who destroyed his town? His people?

Finally, you're a couple steps behind him. Thankful, at the very least, for whatever weird state this man is in because it grants you the opportunity to approach and press the cold steel of your pistol to the side of his temple.

"Don't. Move."

You hope it comes out as the threatening command you intend it to be. There's a tense beat of silence as you wait for his next move until you realize he's doing exactly what you demanded.

Then he chuckles. A choked out, watery sort of sound. Your hands start shaking even as they press the barrel harsher against his head.

"Go ahead and shoot."

"Answer me first." Your voice becomes as unsteady as the quakes in your body and you rasp out, "Why… why'd you do it?"

His head lifts and you flinch, but he takes no further action besides staring blankly ahead at the ruins. "I wish I could tell you but… I've been asking myself the same question."

"I — you…! You wreak hell and havoc upon a whole innocent town and… and you don't even know why?!"

"Pathetic, isn't it?" The man laughs again, without a shred of humor. A gloved hand reaches up to wrap around the weapon and you momentarily falter at the force of him leaning into it. The weight pushing it closer into his skull seems hard enough to leave a nasty imprint, as if that should be a main concern right now. "I'd simply like to know how I did it."

"I —"

"Not loaded," he sighs and drops his hand, twisting around to actually get a proper look at whoever was holding him at gunpoint.

You're taken aback by the intensity of death radiating in those dark brown irises that casually observe you through amber-colored, cracked lenses. Your arms fall down, dumbfounded at the stranger's unflinching behavior, the pistol bumping into your thigh. He lets out a "tsk" and then pulls something out of his pocket.

In his opposite palm, clad in a fingerless glove unlike the left, rests a conical golden object. Though you've never seen one in real life before, you think you know what it is. The shape matches the hollow outlines when Chan disassembled the chambers of your gun.

"A cartridge," he says and you blink. "A bullet," he clarifies upon noticing your confusion. Then the man smiles encouragingly. "Go on. Take it."

You're incredulous. "You're okay with handing that over to me?"

"It's what you want, right?" There's a wistful look on his face. "This place… it was your home."

"No," you're quick to refute, shocked at such an automatic response. Then admitting, "I don't even know what a home is."

Innocent town, my ass, is what you derisively admit inward and snort at yourself.

The convent itself was far from comforting. The other orphans with their bright grins when Saint Meryl sang lullabies on the nights you couldn't sleep — those were the kinds of things that made it bearable.

Guilt.

"I — I —"

It overwhelms your senses. Rattling up your entire nervous system and settling a cruel, cruel weight in your chest. You hunch over, chest heaving, and throat burning. There's a thump as your gun falls to the ground, its silvery sharp edges becoming distorted, warped, and blurred through a film of unshed tears in your widened eyes.

"Should've… It should've —"

"Hey, hey…"

"It should've been me!"

The man rises to his full height, brushing off his clothes before crouching down. A sturdy hand grips your shoulder and dutifully encourages your gasping upper body into an upright position. Gently, ever so fragile, he bops your forehead with his and you subconsciously lean against the unexpected support.

He's near enough to ground you to something solid. But distant enough for two strangers whose first meeting is one amidst a crumbling town's travesty. With his close presence comes the scent of gun smoke, though not as bitterly pungent and putrid as you recall from before. It's subtle and smokey, reminiscent of the fire that Chan once proudly stoked in his makeshift forge.

Your body shakes as the tears finally slip free.

"All lives are equally precious, one shouldn't be sacrificed for another."

"… How can… how can you say that so… easily?"

The death-come-over look in his eyes changes to something faraway. Like he's seeing something beyond the destruction surrounding both of you. Those amber lenses don't have to be cracked to draw attention to the fracturing despair radiating behind them.

Then, he shakes his head and shrugs. "Because you should live even when those dear to you are gone. This world is made of love and peace, after all."

Your crying abruptly pauses with the natural effort it takes to let out a scoff. Ignoring your utter scorn and disbelief, the man's gaze drifts to the pistol still on the ground. The tip of a steel-toed boot kicks it up into the air with a flourish, single-handedly catching it to inspect the weapon with practiced ease.

"Live because there's a reason you survived, even if you loathe every second of it. You'll feel like you don't deserve it. But persevere because you should. Because that's what they would've wanted and you keep them alive by living yourself. A burden? Maybe. Why spend such a cursed blessing only dwelling in regret when you can do so much more?"

He offers the gun back, its handle extended in your direction.

"If nothing else, live for yourself most importantly. Help show the world the love and peace it deserves. Even if it couldn't afford to gift it to you. That's what life is all about. The ticket to the future is always blank!" Pausing, he shrugs with a regret-filled smile on his face. "At least that's what I was taught… and what I think."

"… Awfully full of optimism for some dude who wiped out a full town and doesn't even know why."

"Name's Seokmin," he returns, now sporting a cheeky grin as you cautiously reach out for the pistol. Only to be outsmarted with a literal 'sleight-of-hand' and meeting the warmth of fingers and a gloved palm instead of the expectation of hard, cold, and familiar steel.

"Huh?"

"Lee Seokmin, to be precise! And it's a pleasure to meet 'cha! Erm, despite the… terrible circumstances." Seokmin jiggles the gun in front of you with his other hand, almost taunting you to reach for it again.

You don't.

"And what do you call this lovely lady?"

"Nothing."

"A shame. But not everyone cares to name things, 'specially if they don't hold any value." He finally tosses it back and you barely manage to catch it in time with a scowl.

"Just haven't decided."

"I see! Mine's Geranium."

"Oh, like… the flower?"

He visibly perks up at that even further, a radiant smile showcasing two pointy fangs. "You've heard of it?"

"Well," you scratch your cheek, "the, uh, sisters gave a girl that name because of her hair."

There's an uncomfortable pause as the dreadful realization you'll never see those brilliant ruby locks bounce because of her excitement again settles back into your stomach. You swallow, eyes roaming the stranger in front of you for a distraction.

"Um… you must really like the color… red."

Seokmin glances down at the tatters of his scarlet clothes and shrugs. "I guess. Though the one I saw was red, I've heard they come in different colors."

"You've seen a plant? Like a plant plant? A real one! You know — that grows out of the ground and transforms and all that? It doesn't, well…"

Vegetation was a rarely discussed concept. The only thing you knew came out of the poorly written history books in the dusty library's darkest corner. In the desert outskirts, you had a better chance of finding ancient Earth technology that might still be intact to share its plethora of knowledge about the old world humans left behind than hope to find whatever resources the big cities had access to.

"Mm, yeah, a long time ago. But say," he jovially waves the cartridge from before and it glints in the setting rays of the suns. "Would you care to hear this man's story before shooting him?"

And of course, you listened. What other choice did you have, you who lost everything at once? But even back then, something small and precious was planted in the barren depths of your heart. That was just the beginning. It would continue to grow, watered and tended to under the sunny smile of Lee Seokmin — the destroyer of cities and a very wanted man across the planet.

You leave that tiny bit out during the recitation of your past to the inquisitive pastor. Though something you'll regrettably find out later is he's already got you all figured out.

Bastard.

"… So, that's how I met the infamous Lee Seokmin and didn't end up killing him," you declare with a flourish and take a satisfied gulp of cheap beer picked up from some abandoned mart along the way out of Little Jersey.

Draining another bottle dry, you toss away the metal cap, close one eye, and peer through the narrow bottleneck like it's a telescope — albeit a very poor one.

Through the distorted glass stretch endless sand dunes as far as the eye can see. Stars glitter and sparkle amid the glow of the full moons in orbit, temporarily dimmed by a puff of the roguish's man's cigarette that wafts through the inky darkness.

You wonder if he'd be willing to share one.

"A shame," Seungcheol grumbles and offers a white stick from his pocket.

You take it eagerly only to see it's nothing but — a lollipop. The hard candy's become a strange gooey consistency thanks to melting in the desert heat all day and partially re-solidifying during the nighttime's chilly air.

It's stale too.

Fucker.

You let out a disdainful sniff but nod in agreement to his statement. "It is. But he promised me something. Then his bounty increased from a meager six million to sixty billion double dollars after destroying July, putting a hole in the moon, and all that. So… following him around has paid off."

"I guess," he shrugs, "guess I don't really care 'bout yer lil meet-cute story."

You gape at the audacity. "You're the one who fuckin' asked!"

"Well… figured we could bond, ya know? Orphans 'n all that cozy, feel-good shit."

"You know, not a single thing I've said thus far coud be classified as 'cute'."

"Uh-huh."

"And I never took you to be a sentimental fool."

"Hey, now —"

You hold up a hand. "'Thou shall not bear false witness'."

"As if ya even know what that means," Seungcheol retorts and flicks the ashy cigarette stub in your direction, the cross around his neck ironically reflecting in the moonlight. "Was gonna say, if anythin', I put the mental in sentimental, sweet'art."

Well, you certainly wouldn't argue with that point. "…What I do know is that you're doing this all. For him."

"'Ol Needle Noggin, eh?"

"Well… yeah. But he's only part of a bigger picture for you."

"… 'S none o' yer business, ya know? Best to know less."

Your eyes roll. "Sure. That's why you nearly got hit by our car 'cause you wore a suit into the desert and didn't bring a drop of water. All while hauling that stupid, big-ass cross around! And then you insist on joining us — try to scam us! — but hey," you put your hands up, "none of my business."

"Wasn't tryna scam —"

"Hella shady, man... Hella. fuckin'. shady." You're shocked you can see the man's eyes roll in a begrudging defeat behind his black sunglasses — at night, no less — but you nudge him. "C'mon, just tell me! I bet it has to do with Hopeland, something… or someone back at that orphanage."

"Anyone told ya how irritatin' ya are?"

"Only the ones that are equally just as annoying!"

"Tch, woman." Seungcheol messes up the back of his black hair, mouth opening as he cracks his jaw. There's a pregnant pause. "… 'Han was… he was different. Ya wouldn't get it."

"Try me. Evidently you weren't listening very well, were you?" No surprise there. You retrieve the locket that takes refuge beneath your top, a familiar oval swinging from its long chain between the two of you. "Believe it or not, I do get it."

His eyes fixate on it like a pendulum, darting to your face, and then up to the sky. A crooked smile quirks up the corner of his mouth and he lets out a resigned sigh. "Ya really love 'im, don'tcha?"

You feel a funny sensation.

Akin to getting caught in a horde of flying worms and trying to squash down as many as you can. Your answer is hushed and Seungcheol snickers. Unbeknownst to the two of you that an additional pair of ears — assumed to be asleep — also catches your whispered reply.

"So, how much ya gonna pay for confessin'?" the pastor goads and lets out a startled yelp when you try to smash the hand-held bank he totes around that's shaped like a cathedral.

"Oh, go to hell, Choi!"

"Stare any longer and you'll no longer be needin' Sirocco." An amused snicker follows the relaxed drawl. "Bullets're 'bout to start flyin' outta those eyes 'stead of that gun o' yers."

You scowl at the dumb man seated next to you. "It's not like subtlety has ever been a strong suit of yours. But could you at least pay better attention to your surroundings?" A meager amount of golden liquid sloshes against the sides of the glass you pointedly wave around. "Or are you already too drunk to forget where we are?"

"Ain't no lightweight," Seungcheol brags with his fourth pint of the night in hand and a rapacious grin cockily tilting the empty lollipop stick in the corner of his mouth upward. "Can't say the same for the rest, though. Whiskey's stronger than a punch to the gut."

"… You would know. I'm sure it might just taste like water to some by now."

While it might initially elate most visitors to order as many rounds of the only available beverage on the menu as possible, the reality of the situation was much more grim. As if he can read your mind, the man clad in black, gray, and muted silvers flippantly reminds you of why your so-called merry band of travelers are even here.

"Needle Noggin said 'e fixed the Plant up just fine 'n dandy, so here's hopin' we get some clean bathwater t'night."

At those words, your gaze instinctively shoots back to where it focused earlier. Seungcheol snorts and drains his glass with a satisfactory sigh before poking more fun at you.

"Gonna put a hole through his head at this point."

"Not like that's anything new."

"Yeah, but rather than constantly laserin' holes through his skull, ya should be tryna convince him to fill yers up, instead. 'N not referrin' to that empty space behind yer forehead."

"I know exactly what you mean, you perverted freak."

That cracks Seungcheol up. "'N here I was thinkin' ya was gonna end up a nun servin' the Eye of Joshua!"

By now, you're well-accustomed to the hedonistic ways of the man who still keeps a leather band with a cross on it strapped across his Adam's apple, sewn into the cuffs of his black suit, and carries the hulking shape of one on his weary shoulders.

Unfazed, you fire back, "If they even let someone like you into the blessed and holy ranks, then any whore off the streets would be welcome to join."

It's a series of light-hearted jabs you both take in stride. The truth is much darker and deeper, but tonight serves as a tiny snapshot away from the normal weariness of day-to-day survival in Gunsmoke. Right now, you celebrate alongside the residents of Tonim what peace could really look like in the future.

Except you're on edge.

For a reason that's silly compared to the usual adrenaline rush of tracking down Plants nearing red status and defending the area, all the while trying to prevent the inevitable destruction and chaos to follow. Still, it's why you beckon the bartender over for another refill as a positively "tickled-pink" Seungcheol not-so-silently judges.

"Now who's staring?"

"'Kay, but's not with unbridled lust and — " He's cut off by a sharp kick to the side of his shin delivered by one of your heavy combat boots. "And feelin's," gets wheezed out before the pastor falls silent at your nasty scowl paired with Wonwoo's timely arrival.

The saloon owner and de facto authority in town approaches the two of you cautiously. It's no secret who you are, who you're with. What you do and the things that follow when you do what you do. And yet what you've done has saved the town and given its people — especially the younger folk — something that some of them have never experienced before.

Hope.

And that seems to be good enough proof for Wonwoo. Rumors may just be rumors, after all. None of you are like the reports relayed in a tinny voice through the virtually enhanced radios that are non-plant-powered — aka illustriously dubbed by their inventor as VERnons.

"… the Bloody Rain… follows… Lee… Humanoid Typhoon… armed… dangerous. Punisher… cross… machine gun… two unknown… likely… agents…. Bernardelli Insurance…"

The VERnon sitting behind the counter splutters out bits and pieces of information. He side-eyes the device awkwardly and starts fumbling with the buttons, trying to mumble over the static and monotonous voice.

"Can I pour you another drink?"

"Sure," you chuckle, pleased.

The bartender's well-intentioned efforts are fruitless which is to be expected. Only the creator, and those he personally taught, could truly modify the invention as pleased. A part of you hoped to find evidence Hansol had traveled this far but alas, he was probably still searching through the seven major cities for his beloved Milly before attempting to wander through the treacherous wastelands.

A brown, short-haired darling sneaks awe-filled glances at the two of you from the corner where a group of women around your age gather to chat. Seungcheol's the first to catch onto the admiring starry-eyed gaze and winks. Chuckling when a pudgy hand clings tighter to one of the lady's long skirt, using the fabric as a demure little shield against his effortless charisma.

You catch the tail-end of the interaction with the ghost of a smile. If there's one thing that can definitely soften Seungcheol's rough edges, it's children. You can't blame him, reminded of cheery voices and energetic footsteps pounding after your own through the convent's hallways.

The attractive woman wonders what's drawing the younger girl's attention and leans down to whisper in her ear. Gesturing in your direction, you watch as she nods encouragingly and offers a gentle smile, pushing the tiny brunette forward who readily toddles over. The gaps still waiting for pearly white teeth to grow in that shy smile on the little girl's face are endearingly winsome.

"'Lo, Wonu."

The bespectacled man starts, eyes wide as he peers over the counter and just manages to glimpse the top of her mousy brown tufts. "Is that you, Lina? You're not supposed to be here."

"Past yer bedtime, lil one?"

She huffs indignantly at the two men, hands on her hips. "I've once stayed up 'til four in the morning, mister!"

"Oh, Lina…"

"Besides, how can anyone of good standing sleep properly when there's heroes in town?"

"Huh, what a darlin' angel!"

You scoff at your comrade's words. "As if you've ever seen one."

"I do beg your pardon," Wonwoo scrambles to excuse the child's enthusiasm. "Looks like another talk is due with, uh, Sheryl."

"You're just jealous, Wonu. Sherry says they're heroes."

A chubby finger points at you and Seungcheol and the bartender clicks his tongue — partially in reproach and the other half out of embarrassment. The two of you hardly pay any attention to his reaction, seeming to not mind her boldness at all.

"That's right, sweet'art. And don'tchu forget now." In fact, a certain cross-wearing man revels in it. He rummages deep in his pocket and pulls out a lollipop with a flourish. "'N here's a lil magic gift for ya, princess."

You're one step faster, snatching it and unwrapping the candy with a quick inspection. At least it looks fresh and clean. Seungcheol snorts. Ignoring him, you crouch down and hand it to Lina with a gentle smile.

"Remember to be careful with what you take from strangers."

"I know! But you're heroes… and heroes are always good people! You would never hurt me!" Those blue-green eyes are certainly dazzling as she stares into yours, reminiscent of the clean water now filling the town's reservoir. "You're very pretty."

"That might be the highest compliment I've ever received."

"Pretty people don't hurt anyone either! Sherry's super pretty and she's the gentlest I know!"

A very pretty pastor himself snickers for multiple reasons. Meanwhile, Wonwoo laments with a tired sigh, "Dunno what that crazy woman's been teaching her, I swear…"

"You're not supposed to talk about people you like like that, Wonu!" Lina gives them both the stink eye but returns her attention to focus solely on you — Tonim's loveliest savior in her teal-eyed view. "Will I grow up to be as pretty as you?"

Ah, how your heart aches.

"Even prettier."

"I…" She gnaws on her lip, as if it does anything to hide how much her pleased grin glows. "I wanna be a hero, too!"

"Don't see why you wouldn't become one." To you, she already is — in all her innocent radiance and glory.

"Gotta grow big 'n strong first, missy."

"I am strong!"

"Don't doubt it. But wait 'til yer at least twice my age 'fore ya go swingin' at thugs."

She wrinkles her nose. "I'll be in the grave like Grammy if I wait that long, old man!"

Seungcheol guffaws at her unexpected remark and you hear the bartender beg, "Lina, please!" But you focus on all the brilliance in front of you — from precious unkempt locks to blue eyes full of fire and finally to the worn out, dust-covered shoes.

"Hopefully you'll never need a reason to be the hero, though. It's our duty to keep that from happening."

There's too much hidden meaning and brutal experience in your words for her to fully understand. The lull gives a certain pastor an opportunity to sidle back into the conversation, ready to get up to no good as always.

"Ya wanna meet the hero of all heroes, darlin'?"

"Choi —"

"Yeah!" Lina claps ecstatically.

"Go 'head 'n give 'er yer second key," he coaxes quietly with a shit-eating smirk.

"I swear!"

"C'mon… never like keepin' such a sweet gal waitin'!"

After a minute's hesitation, you begrudgingly agree and take it out.

"Thank ya. Now, got a lil mission for ya, Miss Hero-in-the-Makin'."

"Really?!"

Barely able to conceal her exuberance, she reverently takes the key like it's actual gold and not simply plated. Seungcheol ruffles her hair affectionately.

"Y'see the man in all purple?"

"Mhm, yeah! The one that looks like the night sky?"

"Yeah, give 'im it. Make sure to say it's from this pretty lady."

"Choi!"

"Talk to 'im too 'cause he'll love that. He's a real hero, y'know? Truest of 'em all."

"Yes, sir!"

"Attagirl."

Lina scurries off and you turn back to the counter with a sour glare directed at Seungcheol. "What was that all about?"

"Dunno, cute?"

"I'm really sorry about that all," Wonwoo apologetically interrupts with the offer of another refill which is readily accepted. "She… she's very excitable."

"No need for apologizin', man."

"Yeah, she's adorable. Is she yours?"

The bespectacled bartender stutters, almost dropping the glass he's handing to you. "That's, uh, that's my sister!"

"Ah, makes sense! Didn't mean to assume."

He flushes and turns away. But not without mumbling something about it being okay and your comrade groans.

"Reminder — ya get too drunk, 'm not dealin' with ya ass."

"Great, I don't want you near my ass."

"'S not what I meant!"

"Yeah, yeah."

Seungcheol downs another shot and you're quick to follow his lead once Wonwoo hands over another refill per your shared request. However, this time, the stoic man surprisingly lingers and awkwardly fiddles with his wire-rimmed frames, doing his very best to not let his eyes wander your scantily clad figure as your head tilts back to swallow the burning alcohol.

Meanwhile, the pastor's grin turns wolfish.

"So, uh, who are you, really?"

"Curious, eh?" You lean comfortably onto the counter, braced by your forearms and an alluring smile on your face for the handsome saloon owner. His gaze drifts down to your scar-covered hands which also happen to be placed conveniently underneath your breasts.

You'd once said the best disguise and toughest armor was none at all. And why not flaunt your assets — literally — and put them to good use. The desert is hot anyways!

Seungcheol and Seungkwan both called bullshit. Mingyu applauded you and waved his "I respect women's rights, wrongs, and all the above no matter what!" flag. Seokmin — already used to your behavior and attire — had nothing else to say other than his normal quips of, "As long as you're comfortable".

"Well, a-a beautiful woman like yourself has to have everyone wondering."

And you laughed in the face of your haters every time it worked.

"Just a bounty hunter."

Wonwoo nods at the casual answer, recalling the holster strapped around the plush of your thigh beneath short denim shorts. "Where from?"

"Well… around. My hometown was destroyed so…"

"Oh? Same here."

"Ah, camaraderie." You jab a thumb menacingly in the direction of the purple-cloaked figure and the life of tonight's celebration, currently animatedly chattering to Lina. "That's why I'm turning him in."

"He's…?"

"Yup, Lee Seokmin. Yes," you confirm with a smirk at the way Wonwoo's eyes bug out behind his glasses, "that one — the infamous humanoid typhoon. Don't worry, he won't hurt anything or anyone here."

"He's… uh, he's not quite what I expected."

"Yeah, tell me about it."

"You must be pretty badass to reign him in. Heard he's giving what's left of the July regime officers a run for their double dollars."

"For sure. But it's thanks to the other two drunkards, really. Believe it or not, they're Bernardelli insurance agents. Raven-haired one's Seungkwan and the tall one is Mingyu. They're helping to monitor that whopping bounty of mine and prevent any more disasters from happening. Heard I might get a bump in value if I bring him in alive."

"Oh, well, it looks like it's working. And he seems… willing? To come with you?"

"The irony. Always been quite blasé about facing his doom."

"He's really a Plant engineer, too?"

"Of sorts," you huff at his visible confusion but wave your empty glass. "Can I get another?"

He's more than happy to accommodate and returns with two, sliding one over to Seungcheol with a cautious look at the person who seems the closest to you. "And this is…?"

"Pastor. Pleased to meet'cha."

"Oh! Really?"

"A surprising addition to the mix, yeah. But everyone needs to, like, pray sometimes." And under your breath, low enough so only a certain man can hear, "no matter how sketchy they are."

"Do you, hm, officiate weddings?"

The one in question quirks a thick eyebrow. "Ya lookin' to get hitched, boy?"

"M-maybe."

And Seungcheol feels wholly compelled to bless him silently from the bottom of his blackened heart with full sincerity, seeing as how the bespectacled man timidly peeks your way before his gaze darts elsewhere. "Sorry lad, charge 'bout a thousand double dollars minimum."

While the solitary bartender crashes back into the sad reality of capitalism, you jab your elbow into the pastor's ribcage. "Fuckin' scammer."

"Only the best of the best! Ya know, sixty billion's still on the table — 'n it better be callin' my name."

"No one even has sixty billion double dollars!"

"We have 'im." And he points back to where hoots and hollers erupt from the center table of the saloon.

Lina's returned to the woman she was with earlier — presumably her beloved Sherry — but that doesn't mean Seokmin's alone. There's so much disdain in your side-eye, spotting the busty violet-haired sweetheart his arm wraps around. After all, he's the worst kind of ladykiller.

And by that, you mean he absolutely sucks at flirting and can't get or keep a partner to save his life. Yet you're constantly stuck witnessing women, men, and attractive people of all kinds throw themselves at the good-looking man until he opens his mouth and they're put off by his clear lack of suaveness or strange little idiosyncrasies.

"Stop with the stupid bet, it's not happening. Nobody's going to be winning a thing."

"It's called usin' the damn 'magination, darlin'!"

"Which means you need to get better hobbies. You've corrupted my friends!"

"Hah! Them fools were already too invested in this 'fore I ever came along."

"Fill me up again?"

Intent on ignoring Seungcheol, you belatedly realize how aggressive your request comes across. You're also eager for something to help soothe ache in your chest. It comes and goes like a bad toothache — manageable enough to forget about the pain until it returns tenfold.

Thankfully, Wonwoo meekly complies with the back tips of his ears tinged red and Seungcheol barely manages to hide his extreme amount of mirth for the situation behind another glass. In the dim lighting, at certain angles, and with another shot of whiskey settling into your system, you conclude that the handsome saloon owner could certainly pass as Seokmin's brother and vice versa.

But you know the truth.

Familiar with the one who's all too identical to the infamous gunslinger, yet entirely different altogether. Irritation flares in your gut, prickling harsh enough that even the burn of alcohol fails to drown it out.

"I'm turning in for the night."

"Smartin' idea."

"Don't get too smashed."

"You should get smashed."

"Bye, Choi."

Tipsiness is a great excuse to bump purposely into him as you get off the stool. It's only thanks to his genetically enhanced metabolism that the pastor's able to stay upright. He grumbles something that's likely insulting, but standing upright causes you to realize you drank way too much. Everything spins or sways, including your body as you stumble up the stairs.

Somehow, you safely make it to the second level. Above the saloon is a hallway of small bedrooms that Wonwoo generously loans out to routine drunkards or stray travelers. It takes a few minutes of fumbling around but you finally find the lock that matches the first of its paired key and tumble face-first into (thankfully clean) bedsheets.

A hazy mix of drifting in and out of consciousness follows. It's not until the door clicks and there's an ominous creak of floorboards followed by a noticeable presence creeping up at your side that fully rouses you from the feverish dreams of gunfire, explosions, and loss that still plague your mind to this day.

You roll over, intending to assume both an offensive and defensive position against the nighttime visitor, but a hand lands on your shoulder before you can. Still sluggish, there's no way you could ever hope to outmatch the humanoid typhoon, even at your best.

"Hey, you."

It takes a bit for your eyes to adjust to the darkness after hearing his voice — and then there he is. Sitting on the edge of the bed, Seokmin greets you with a fond, megawatt grin. The thumb of his cybernetic prosthesis gently traces little circles over your bare skin. There's a faint hum and glow from its advanced tech mechanics, paired with moonbeams from the window, casting off an ethereal radiance.

"So, you're staying here tonight?"

"But of course, isn't that why you sent such a cute little cherub my way?"

Ah, Lina. You unwittingly smile, remembering how joyful she was to accomplish her mission.

Then your eyes close, nose wrinkling at the copious stench of mixed perfumes and alcohol he brought in and refusing to acknowledge what he says.

"You hella reek."

"Says the one who drank over seven shots."

"… That preacher's a fuckin' tattler. And a liar. And a total scammer. Don't fall for him, Seok."

"Now, what makes you think Seungcheol told me, hm?" He leans down almost nose-to-nose, enough to make yours scrunch even more at the buzzing feeling of how near he is. Your eyes open to squint at him and he winks. "Silly boy tried to mess with god again and max out his intake. Spoiler alert, he failed. Mingyu dragged him back to his room."

"You're the only one I know who can call Choi a 'silly boy'."

"'Cause that's what he is."

"And you need to stop acting like my babysitter!"

You shift away from his gorgeous face and he leans back to give you space, sporting a smug grin. "Then who would take care of you, mayfly?"

"How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that?"

"Be nice to me and maybe I won't keep count on how many glasses you down next time," he teases. "But since I'm so kind and forgiving, would you like a nice, warm, relaxing bath?"

Well, it did sound wonderful. TMI, but cleanliness was a luxury when traveling the desert. Even more so when the places you arrived at had Plant issues. Luckily, Seokmin was more than capable of fixing them but even then, circumstances varied. Especially around the one known across Gunsmoke as mankind's first localized human disaster.

"Only if you get one, too."

It slips from your mouth without a thought. But you might as well have told Seokmin you'd gotten him a box full of doughnuts with how delightedly he clasps his hands together.

"As you wish, m'lady!"

And he treats you like one, scooping you up into his arms in a princess-style carry. At least tonight you're more willing to let him do as he wishes, especially when he discards the perfume-infused outerwear. Whiskey, sleepiness, and the smooth material of his undershirt keep you pliant and cuddly well after he'd snatched you off the bed.

Seokmin's already ten times stronger than even a human like Mingyu and his prosthesis only helps take further advantage of that fact. He easily deposits you on the edge of the tub. Normal routine would require untying the tight laces on your combat boots but since you'd kicked them off prior to resting, he skips to the next step.

Deft fingers make quick work unbuttoning your shorts, the prosthetic digits of his left hand then moving to loosen the straps that keep your top on. His other hand holds them together in a pseudo-knot to keep the material in place.

Honoring a sense of modesty, you suppose — even though you've seen each other unclothed before. But you melt into the secure press of his palm paired with the support of his chest against your back as he leans over to turn on the water.

"Let me know if it's a good temperature."

"M'kay."

"You're so agreeable when drunk!"

"And you're still just as annoying."

"Okay, okay," he relents. Amicably even.

Seokmin never enjoys butting heads like Seungcheol constantly does. Although another "mayfly," gets tacked on to the end of his playful yield in a mischievous tone because if there is one thing, it's that he can never tease you enough.

Brown eyes quietly trace the ink and scars that mark your skin, some disappearing or completely hidden beneath the parts that are covered. Finally, they land on the silver chain around your neck, only a breadth away from the tip of his fingers that suddenly twitch at how soft you feel beneath the calloused roughness of his own skin.

You let out a little sigh and it shakes him from his reverie, noticing the tub's filled up past your calves. Guiding one of your hands to where the locket lies beneath your clothes covering your chest, he stands. "Call me if you need anything or just want help getting out, m'lady."

"'Kay."

You're already stripping bare but Seokmin breezes out the door before you can blink. You sigh again and slip into the hot water, enjoying a soak to ease the heaviness you feel.

It's hard to understand this emotional turmoil. Knowing that you don't enjoy feeling this way, you make a false promise to not drink ever again, staying submerged in the water until your fingers wrinkle.

Maybe you fell asleep, maybe you didn't. There's a bathrobe laid on the sink when you're ready to get out that you don't remember from before but who knows. Who cares? It's cozy and you haven't felt this clean in a while.

"All yours," you lazily declare, stepping into the bedroom.

Seokmin perks up from where he casually sits cross-legged on the bed, fiddling with Geranium. A dopey smile lights up his face, gaze moving from the hefty nickel revolver and zoning in on you.

"All mine?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah," he repeats quieter, more to himself, "all mine…" But when you unconsciously shiver, his eyes flash and brows furrow. "C'mere, I warmed the bed up for you."

"Aren't you going to bathe?"

"Yep, so don't miss me too much, my dear mayfly!"

He accompanies it with a saucy wink and saunters into the bathroom, humming. You find yourself in a bit of a daze, head and cheeks holding onto the heat of the steam from your bath (and more). You change into a light tank and cotton shorts before sitting back down. As promised, where Seokmin rested was indeed warm and smells of faint gun smoke that always brings back memories.

"Total slaughter…!"

Splash!

"… Total slaughter…"

Splash!

"I won't leave… a single man alive."

Splash! Splash!

"La de da de dai~," echoes from the bathroom. "Genocide…"

Splash.

"La de da de duh," splash, splash, splash, "an ocean… of blood."

"Let's begin… the killing time."

Seokmin possessed a lovely melodic voice no matter how nonsensical or gruesome the words he sang. Your eyes close with relaxation as he continues into a different tune. Though the lyrics are definitely more hopeful this time, there's a heavy sense of underlying desolation despite the rapid, upbeat tone.

"So…" splash, "on the first evening," splash, "a pebble from somewhere out of nowhere drops upon the dreaming world…"

You think back to how he silently cried when he thought no one was looking after a young stowaway on the sandsteamer broke into the same nostalgic song. Your heart aches in empathy for the woman whose heroic sacrifice saved humankind but left behind irreparable damage to twins she adored.

Rem Saverem.

She was to Seokmin as what Saint Meryl was to you. But your fondness for the nun who dared to favor one random orphan above the other equally ordinary ones with an unprecedented amount of kindness paled in comparison to the devotion Seokmin exhibited for Rem. Her kindness, hope, and love for and of life didn't simply become Seokmin's philosophies — they were a true part of every fiber, woven into his very being.

He was peculiar. Hardheaded — or in Seungkwan's affectionate term: a hardass — when it came to nonviolence. A true pacifist. Even when enemies held him at gunpoint, allies turned their backs on him, and his choice to always save was at the very cost of his well being… Seokmin would choose to tear himself apart limb by limb before ever causing damage or letting harm come to another.

And even if he always chose the world and those living in it first before anything else, that's what you loved the most about him.

"What's got you making that face?"

You're quick to school whatever expression it might be. Your tongue feels fuzzy. You purse your lips as he lumbers closer, freshly dressed in a comfy white long-sleeved shirt and black sweats.

"What face?"

"You know, the one where something's weighing on your mind."

The bed frame dips and squeaks when he flops down to snuggle against you. Still-damp, reddish-brown bangs lay across your shoulder and dampen your skin. The chilled press of the gold hoop in his left earlobe raises bumps wherever it touches as he endearingly nuzzles you.

"There is."

"Tell me."

"You need to dry your hair properly."

"Do it for me."

"… This is on purpose, isn't it?"

Nevertheless, you take the unused towel around his neck and vigorously rub at his head. No complaints or protests defending his honor come from Seokmin. Just the usual little trills of contentment escape as he leans into your touch. Once you're satisfied the job's done well, he plucks the towel from your hands and you fix him with a stern look.

"Well, Seok? You gonna answer me?"

He curls in on his lanky frame, enough so to find room to plop his head pitifully onto your thighs and nuzzle the bare skin with his nose. "Not if you won't answer me first."

"You."

"Hm?"

"Was… thinking about you."

"Oh, really? Dreaming about how cool, dashing, handsome, and awesome I am?"

"… Yeah. I like you."

He chuckles, closing his eyes. More so at the feeling of your fingers idly playing with his strands of hair than seriously taking what you say. "I like you, too!"

"No, I mean," you jostle him harshly as you shift anxiously, tugging a little too hard at his roots. "Something's wrong with me."

"… Mhm yeah, you've been drinking."

"Goddamnit, Seok… that was like hours ago! But… what if… what if I'm in love with you?"

Your fingers retract like you've been caught red-handed stealing Mingyu's pudding and a millisecond later, Seokmin's head flies off your lap as he sits up to stare incredulously at you and can only gasp out one word, "What?"

It comes out more like a statement than a question. You've seen all kinds of emotions appear in those clear brown eyes of his. Emptiness. Excitement. Happiness. Fear. Loneliness. Mysteriousness. Pain. But now, you can hardly make sense of what turmoil is swimming in those murky depths.

"There's no way," he shakes his head — laughter high and brittle. "Fake", is what Seungcheol occasionally points out whenever he spies the gunslinger's smile. You've never believed him until now. "You're drunk."

Seokmin's been hurt before and you know that. It's why you wish for him to be nothing but happy, that there's some truth to the joy he constantly tries to radiate. Hoping some parts are really healing, that he's giving time to let the bloody wounds coagulate — if even just a little.

"It's me. I mean, I'm the one that's drunk," he reiterates, shaking his head.

"Why are you acting like that?"

"… Like what?"

Perhaps you were too hopeful.

"Like I'm making some sort of mistake. Like I'm wrong about this. About us."

And still under the influence of the too-damn-strong alcohol.

"It's… none of that, it's just…"

"You think I don't know what I'm talking about."

"Well, do you?" he fires back rather harshly, "'cause you're still wearing that thing and —"

You wince as his voice breaks off, palm instinctively flying to where the locket rests. "What the hell does that have to do with anything right now? I thought we were over this! Years ago!"

"Maybe you were since you continue to stubbornly follow me everywhere!"

"I'm not the only one!"

"Yeah, 'cause no one ever listens to me!"

"I always listen to you, Seok. Even if the words that come out of your mouth don't match how you actually feel —"

"You don't know how I feel!"

Silence.

Seokmin's chest heaves, wide eyes taking in how you immediately freeze. That look, oh, that look on your face could kill him and his body moves on auto-pilot to stand, directing his gaze to stare daggers into the floorboards. Begging them to rip off like a bandaid and shield him from your wrath.

The wood beneath his feet groans, shaking ever the slightest.

"You're right. How dare I?"

"Wait, mayfly… I —" he switches gears with a plea of your given name.

"And obviously, you have no fuckin' idea how I feel." Now it's your turn to let out a disingenuous chuckle, fake humor cracking under the pressure of sadness it's struggling to mask. "You think all I'm after is revenge more than the actual thought even crosses my mind. You put on this show that nothing bothers you, make assumptions that no one can keep up with you, that you can do it all on your own."

"No, that's not… that's not what I meant! You know how dangerous —"

You stumble ungracefully off the bed, flinching away when Seokmin's words break off as he automatically reaches out. For you. To support and for support.

Yet, it hurts all the more.

"But what do I even know? How can I, when you keep everyone at arm's length? It's like… it's like I don't even know who you are! Like you're someone else, someone I'll never get to understand…"

To others, it might not make sense, possibly the dumbest thing you could say — especially with the state you're in. But you know Seokmin, a fact he's subconsciously taken comfort in.

But you also know Seokmin. Which means you know the exact place to hit him where it hurts the most.

And suddenly, those words you say propel him back into a moment from the past, body free-falling in the sky.

Yelling. Crying. Screaming. Pleading.

Begging that exact phrase and being demanded of the same accusation. All from the one who's falling with him. Whose face mirrors his own, but couldn't be more different in that crucial and devastating moment.

His brother. His twin. His other half who was once his everything — now a total stranger from the person he thought he knew.

A fifty-year-old reunion that should've been a reconciliation, turned into a doomsday.

And for you, the once simple toothache pain is now overwhelming your full body and you refuse to let him see how it's dampened your cheeks. Especially when you hear the pained whisper of the name that escapes his mouth when you're the one that triggered those awful memories. Staggering to the door, you yank it open and he instinctually takes a step forward.

Don't leave me.

You hear the unspoken plea as clearly as if spoken aloud.

"Don't follow me," is what you hiss out instead, and just like when you first met, Seokmin obeys.

When Seungkwan makes room arrangements — if there is enough money to spare when needed and the options are available — he books everyone their own private space. More often than not though, he and Mingyu share a room and so do you and Seokmin.

Out of everyone in the group, you're the only one who is used to putting up with Seokmin's idiosyncrasies and the constant white noise of the cybernetic prosthetics's technology. You've rarely paid mind to having your own space unless Seokmin gets in one of those rare 150-year-old moods and wants some time by himself. Rare in nature, because he doesn't enjoy being left alone with his thoughts that threaten to consume him.

But he'll have to make due tonight. For the first time, you're extremely grateful for Seungkwan's pro-activeness.

You lock the door, crawl into a fresh cold bed, and wet a new pillow — one that lacks the comforting scent of gun smoke — with unshed tears.

For all his short-tempered and sassy mannerisms, Seungkwan is quite the worrywart. When the suns have peeked past the horizon and you're not already downstairs bullying Seungcheol, he's immediately knocking at your door and inquiring about your well-being. You assure him you're just hungover and he reluctantly leaves you be, likely picking up on how terrible you really do sound.

By high noon, Mingyu raps on the door next. He even sweetly offers to share his prized pudding in the hopes that you'll peek your head out. Though you appreciate it, you send him away, too — after reassuring the sensitive man you'll feel better after some rest.

Seungcheol doesn't miss the chance to be annoying times ten. He doesn't indulge in the effort of knocking, opting to make the floorboards squeal by pacing back and forth in front of the door. All the while, muttering this and that about "yer boy's like a pathetic dog and blah, blah, blah" until getting very kindly told to "fuck off!" and dragged back downstairs by a certain raven-haired insurance agent.

Even Seokmin checks in. Four times.

Once and then twice after you'd left and he'd figured out which room was yours. Then two more visits throughout the following day. He doesn't exactly make his presence known — but you know he knows you know he's out there.

If not by the distinct gait you've picked up on listening for after all this time, then by the hesitant thuds of combat boots lingering outside your door. Lost technology whirring with the action it takes to make a fist with his left hand, raising it up to the door and then back down again in self-inflicted defeat.

You refuse to see anyone, choosing to pity yourself first. Wallowing in your feelings and then sleeping as much of the heartache — and more so the hangover — away.

When the moons are visible in accordance to their nightly orbit, you get up to fuss with the mini VERnon in the room's corner. Nothing but static greets you. At the very least, the white noise is better than complete silence. By the time it's morning, you slowly awaken to the virtually enhanced radio trying to catch onto a faint signal. Enough to report the latest news in snippets with its mechanical voice.

"Beast… reported… Tonim town… !"

Your eyes fly open. Now is not the time to be wasting away. Donning a clean set of attire similar to what you wore into town — and with Sirocco strapped comfortingly to your thigh — you descend downstairs.

"Good morning!" Mingyu cheerfully greets with a delighted shout of your name and eagerly waves you over to sit next to him, waving around a promised cup of pudding. "Are you feeling better?"

"Mhm, thanks. Sorry about that, whiskey here sure is strong."

"'S one helluva killer," Seungcheol sulks across from you, still sporting a massive headache and looking worse than that one time Seungkwan hit him with the car.

"You're just weak."

"Wha'zat say 'bout you?"

"Since I can equally acknowledge both my strengths and weaknesses, that makes me infinitely stronger than you'll ever be."

Seungkwan wordlessly hands you a bowl and you graciously accept it. Next to the pastor sits Seokmin, unnaturally quiet. You don't even spare him a glance even though brown eyes burn into the side of your face until you glare his way.

The stack of doughnuts on the plate in front of him remain untouched — minus the smudged icing on one that was likely from Seungcheol trying to swipe it. Evidently, Seokmin was in low spirits if he didn't want to consume his favorite desserts. But, he is still prideful enough to prevent anyone else from snatching the prized delicacy.

How typical.

An awkwardness ensues, charged with an underlying current of tension. A vein forms in Seungkwan's forehead from his blood pressure rising.

Its pulse matches the twitch in the corner of his fake smile as he attempts to make conversation, to which Mingyu — oblivious and happy-go-lucky as ever, bless his heart — replies enthusiastically. Seungcheol stares listlessly into space, twirling a lollipop around and around with his tongue. Next to him is a soul acting like a thunderstorm's personally pouring over him. Seokmin starts pitifully poking at his grand doughnut pile while you ferociously tear into a piece of bread like it's the last supper before swallowing.

"Soonyoung's coming."

Your unexpected, but welcomed, interruption ironically pauses Seungkwan's second diatribe about Hansol's calamitous ingenuity. If possible, the apprehension in the room intensifies tenfold.

Seungkwan raises an eyebrow. "How'd you hear?"

"Tuned the VERnon last night."

"'Course you did."

"Something about the Beast and Tonim came through. Not for sure but…"

"It never hurts to be too prepared!"

"True, 'Gyu. 'N if Soonyoungie's gonna be there, ya know what that likely means…"

You nod in understanding at Seungcheol's implication. "The Crimsonnail."

Seokmin's jaw clenches at the name but it's the disgruntled pastor who continues speaking after a hearty and loud gulp of water. "'Course the Eye of Joshua's gonna send their best two. Soonyoungie's Hoon's eyes 'n ears for these kinda things."

"Or… it could be Jeonghan."

Your noncommittal remark receives Seungcheol's scathing glower. "Bet."

"It wouldn't be the first time," you shrug.

"There haven't been any notable disturbances and the ground's been stable. So hopefully their only goal is to simply antagonize us further."

Antagonize.

A funny word for such a twisted coin game between a hunter and the hunted. You can't and don't blame the younger Bernardelli agent — only you were privy to most of the true horrors Seokmin dealt with behind the scenes, Seungcheol a close second. And because of that, you were usually the one at his side before an encounter with Jihoon and the ever lingering threat and terror of said man's monstrous power.

But today, you get up from the table without so much as a glance in his direction. Only a parting command of "Let's regroup near the entrance at high noon," while Seungkwan and Mingyu exchange looks of minor distress.

The black-haired man in his hangover blues obnoxiously blows a raspberry as you leave.

Later, there are two solid knocks on the door as you get ready. You know who it is before the door swings open after your agreeable hum to enter. Many may be intimidated at the sight of the silver weapon in your gloved hands. Seungkwan and Mingyu make up half of the quartet who aren't.

They take a seat on the bed as you purse your lips at the reflection in the dusty mirror. Then you fuss with the strap for your gun. Satisfyingly re-securing it around your thigh before throwing a carmine trench coat over tight kevlar that covers almost every inch of skin possible.

"Surprised you didn't dye everything else black during a fit of rage."

Your lips curl upwards. "How on Gunsmoke would I manage that?"

"With the way you're acting, 'hell hath no fury like a woman scorned…' or so the saying goes."

"Really, 'Kwan?"

"I'm an avid supporter of women's rights and especially their wrongs."

"Sure you are."

"You would absolutely look dashing!"

"Thanks, Mingyu. Should've given my color scheme a little more consideration."

"But then you wouldn't have achieved such an infamous moniker. I mean, okay. Maybe the black plague killed tons of Earthlings eons ago but it doesn't have the same ring as 'Sirocco, the bloody rain that follows after the humanoid typhoon'…"

Seungkwan allegedly graduated at the top of his class, leave it to him to spew out all kinds of random facts that you know nothing about. You huff and adjust the brim of the large hat atop your head.

"All that does is make me cringe."

"Uh-huh, so what's making him act like that?"

"Who's acting like what?"

"Fine, keep playing dumb. Did you reject Seokmin or something?"

Mingyu gasps. Dramatically. Hands on cheeks and mouth open in a wide 'o' shape, puppy-dog eyes glistening with despair.

"There's no way!"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Uh-huh."

"Besides, nothing happened so don't think you're gonna wheedle out of me whether you're going to win that stupid bet you two have going with Choi."

"Eh, don't worry. I've been out of the running for a while now, unfortunately."

"The hell did you even throw for?"

He shoots you a deadpan look. "Guess who's aged eighty years watching the two of you dance around each other like dumbasses? Could've sworn you'd be married with a toma farm or a dozen little children by now."

"It's your own damn fault for falling victim to that pastor's salacious schemes. And it's not even remotely like that, so…"

"Someone just doesn't wanna give in."

You stomp your foot, frustration boiling over. "Ugh, I'm never drinking again!"

"Wait… No fucking way…!"

"Literally shut up, Boo."

"I mean Choi did bet you'd confess and you know… get intimate afterwards… if you were drunk so…"

"Oh, so that's why he was so damn pushy last night."

"Dirty cheater."

"You expect anything less from someone like him?"

A sigh. "No."

It's a well-known fact that Seungcheol would rather stoke the flames of hell than ever needlessly dabble with holy water as one might be expected to with his chosen career.

"But judging by both of your moods, evidently nothing happened." The raven-haired man really has the gall to look disappointed that no one won yet pleased Seungcheol didn't, and the gall to point out the obvious. "Anyways, what did you bet on, Mingyu?"

"Don't recall!"

"Figures." Seungkwan's face falls flat against his palm with a groan before dragging it wearily down his face. "Whatever, it's not like it's that serious. Seriously," he adds on, feeling the burn of your perpetual glower. "Don't let it weigh on your mind. We need you fully focused."

"And when have I ever been less than what's expected of me?" You hold up a hand. "Wait! Don't answer. But really, worry more about that idiot."

"Aw, see? You still care!"

"… About that sixty billion bounty, Mingyu? Yeah."

"Sure you do."

"And truthfully, I was talking about Choi, 'Kwan."

"Well, both of them always get into those zany headspaces!"

You shrug at the tall man's truthfulness. "They're both holding a lot of trauma and baggage."

"And you aren't?" Seungkwan snorts with sarcasm dripping from the dig.

"At least mine's manageable. And… hasn't threatened your lives yet."

"As far as we know."

"In fact, I think I've saved your 'so-very-untraumatized' lives more often than not. Stay with me and you'll both be okay."

They good-naturedly give you individual looks of disdain. Perfectly in sync when you accompany that last statement with a devilish smirk and a twirl that flares out your tail coat with a flourish. By no means are they incapable. Clumsy Mingyu can adeptly wield his massive concussion gun when it counts, of course, and Seungkwan stealthily hides several derringer 'throwaway' pistols under his white cloak that he can fire with deadly precision.

Nonetheless, they loyally flank to your side when Tonim's bell tower signifies the hour of high noon has struck. Seungcheol meets the three of you outside the door of the saloon, smoking a cigarette and one arm lazily draped over the Punisher — a terrifying machine gun mockingly designed in the burdening shape of a merciful cross.

You spot Seokmin up ahead. He's standing on the low border wall near the town's entrance, perched next to a pillar for back support with the heel of his boot propped up behind him. Decked out in the usual galaxy ensemble, purple fabric cut off at shoulder-length of the top left sleeve to allow free range of movement for his prosthesis. His hair's slightly gelled up for a more intimidating and dramatic flair and it almost makes you giggle.

But there's that stern gaze focused on the horizon, likely able to see far out into the distance through those amber lenses the human eye can't quite decipher. Despite such a hardened resolve, his head tilts slightly up toward the blue sky with a faint smile on his lips — an honoring appreciation for the beauty and wonder of life despite its inevitable horrors.

Seungcheol clicks his tongue to get your attention while Seungkwan and Mingyu keep walking ahead. "Spiky Hair thinks he's really gonna do it?"

"Won't stop until he's tried every last resort."

"Even if it kills 'im?"

"Even if it kills him."

"This damned situation 'cause of ya know who."

"Dokyeom. DK."

"Nah, nah. There's the asinine version, eh?"

"Absolute pain in my ass?"

He slaps his knee. "Ah, aye… good one! But nah, 's really stupid one, Deathly, uh, er…?"

"… Deadly Knives?"

"Pfft, yeah, 's that one. So, we gotta try 'n stop one genocidal brother from sweepin' out the whole human race 'n tryna convince greedy humans not to keep exploitin' 'em with the other. Back 'n forth again 'n again. I swear…'s only ever gonna be impossible."

"What makes you think it can't happen?"

He looks at you like you're stupid. Maybe you are. But what does that make him? "Both sides — humans versus DK — think they're right 'n too proud to think otherwise."

"So you don't think they'll settle for a compromise. Or at least try to see the other's viewpoint?"

"Hell naw. Ain't no compromisin' when both think they're justified in what they're doin'."

"Well, regardless — you joined a good cause, Choi. World could use a little more peace and love, don't you think?"

He grunts. "Lookit who's corrupted yer ideologies. Don'tcha know what destroyed Earth?"

"And do you know what saved humans? Kindness. Hope. Empathy. Compassion. Change. Making and being the difference. The good kind."

A long time ago, maybe in a different twist of fate, you might've staunchly agreed with Seungcheol. But despite it all, you've been somewhat changed — or like the pastor said, call it a corruption of sorts — by Seokmin's unwavering sense of positivity and kindness no matter how bleak the future.

You admired him. Truly.

"Un-fuckin'-'lievable."

Seungcheol shakes his head as if he's not gearing up, ready and raring to go as he stomps forward to join a fellow 'brother-in-arms'. The thought inwardly makes you smile with affection until you remember you're actually, in fact, mad at Seokmin.

A dust cloud stirs up on the horizon, steadily growing closer to where you stand.

"You're so full of goddamn self-flagellation."

The individual where all your ire is centered on jolts, doing a double-take at your sudden but familiar presence by his side approaching. Or maybe it was the mere fact you were talking to him again. A warm expression overtakes his facial features at the sense of calm that automatically relaxes the tension in his muscles as he looks down at you.

"Well then, hello to you too. Feeling better, mayfly?"

"… Remind me to never drink again."

"I told you —"

"Yeah, yeah." You wave away his nagging and step up on the wall to stand next to him. "Don't worry, I won't be making a mistake like that again."

"… Mistake?"

There's an edge to his tone. Searching. Sometimes you hate how perceptive Seokmin can be. Though he actively acts oblivious and carefree, it's usually a ploy to lower other's guard.

You wonder how long he's known.

So, you sigh. "I'm talking about drinking, of course. And… I wish I could say I forgot even if… I haven't. But it's fine, I know where I stand."

The latter part of your sentence trails off. It's true though. You do know — thankful you can even be next to Seokmin. You might not be with him but at the very least, your place will always be somewhere by his side. Affectionate flings may be sought elsewhere. But they're always temporary. In your heart of hearts, you know you're irreplaceable to him.

And that's going to have to be good enough for you.

The man in question scratches the back of his head. "It's not… it's not like that. I know I fucked up."

"Stop." You grip at his prosthetic, knowing despite how sensitive the sensors are, they won't be able to pick up how you slightly tremble. "It's okay. Really."

Who is it you're trying to reassure?

"Mayfly," Seokmin murmurs. "Look at me."

With the slightest hesitation, your gaze finally rises from its focal point centered on his boots and the stones beneath to meet dark brown eyes. The ache in the gunslinger's chest eases just a little. It's been far too long — a day, in actuality — since he's got to lose himself among the vibrant hues of your irises and he squeezes your free hand in gratitude.

"It's not okay, I want to talk to you. Sober. But…"

"I get it. Now's not the time for a heart-to-heart, especially not in front of your brother's henchmen."

You laugh, for real this time. The sight is breathtaking; it makes Seokmin's eyes crinkle, a fond smile to accompany his affection as he leans in closer to you to whisper a sweet, "Thank you."

Three sets of eyes try to make it very not obvious that they're very obviously totally not watching the overdue interaction with bated breath.

"Oh golly good, they've made up!"

"'Course they would."

"It's about time, I couldn't take the tension anymore."

"Don'tcha think it'll get worse once they start canoodlin'?"

"Good lord," Seungkwan groans, "perish the thought."

"What's wrong with a little love? Yay for love!"

"Well, I don't think they've made it that far yet. But we're getting there. Baby steps."

It would be a good cause for celebration, a resumption of last night's festivities. Unfortunately, the merry moment is cut short with a screech of brakes, signaling the arrival of Jihoon, DK's most elite performer in his unmerry band of henchmen.

Next to the feared Crimsonnail's suitcase sits Soonyoung the Beast. Silver strands peek out behind the unsettling, bug-like circular mask hiding his face. He casually waves, acting like the unnerving discovery behind the innocent, abandoned child — who went by Hoshi — was simply a facade initially put on around your group and not such a grand revelation.

Having sorted that out in the stomach of a giant flying worm serving as a hive mind for Gunsmoke's legion of its original inhabitants and swearing not to let your guard down again, all five of you remain on high alert.

Jihoon's steel-colored eyes flicker to Seungcheol. "Hello there, Undertaker. Or… should I say Judas?"

"Howdy dandy to ya too, ya son of a bitch," the pastor snarls, spitting his cigarette in their direction. Cursing under his breath when the distance and uselessness of the fizzling stub doesn't blow up the engine like he wishes it would.

"Now, now. You don't want to make me mad, do you?"

"Kinda wanna piss ya off as much as ya piss me off, yeah."

"Surely you know what —"

"He means nothing by it." You'd quickly abandoned your post next to Seokmin to place a hand on Seungcheol's taut shoulder. Boldly facing the blonde man's haughty expression with one that's hopefully placating enough on behalf of your comrade. "He's just grumpy because he's still hungover."

"Well, well… if it isn't the humanoid typhoon's little blood shower."

Ugh, you inwardly grimace, why the fuck does everyone have such unflattering nicknames for me?

"Still following him around, I see."

"'S a lot comin' from —"

" — Hasn't gotten rid of me yet!"

"… Seems it," Jihoon sniffs and cocks his head. "Similar to the dilemma I have with this persistent bug."

Soonyoung chortles, neck contorting at an unnatural angle to peer at the driver. "You love me."

"You're delusional."

"Why are you here?"

Seokmin's question comes sharp and pointed like a dagger, a far cry from his usual demeanor. His tone remains detached. Aloof. Vaguely accusatory. Unlike your harried action to cover for Seungcheol, you don't dare divert attention away from the gunslinger who stalks forward after elegantly hopping down from his perch. Despite an outwardly calm demeanor, there's an underlying urgency in his gait that's threatening to snap.

"For amusement. A show, if you will."

"One that's not even orchestrated by Joshua's freakish cult powers!"

Out of all the males surrounding you, you're not sure exactly who growls at the Beast's mere mention of the devil-like figurehead — in fact, it could've been all of them — but there's one noise that rings out above the din of it all.

Click!

You don't need super-hearing to pick up that telltale sound. Not when every person over the age of eighteen in Tonim has a cocked gun trained on each member of your ragtag gang.

"Uh, so… how many times is this?"

"One too fuckin' many," you answer Seungkwan with a petulant hiss and reluctantly mimic him by putting your hands up in the air.

Jihoon cackles. "And when will you fools ever learn?"

"'S my question, actually," the pastor nonchalantly calls over his shoulder, directed at the town's ringleader. "Didn't know ya had it in ya, boy."

You didn't think Wonwoo had it in him either, to be honest. But that's not something you were going to mention aloud with the shaky hold the bespectacled man has on the firearm waveringly aimed at his target — the one whose head is worth a 60 billion double dollars bounty, dead or alive.

"Felnarl. Jeneora Rock. Descartes. Dankin."

There's a faint twitch in one of Seokmin's eyebrows. Seungcheol rolls his eyes, sarcastically muttering under his breath an addition of location names, "Voldoor, Inepril, December, Lewiston…" and Mingyu joins in on the fun with a cheerful, "New Miami!"

Seungkwan watches warily and your jaw clenches. You can feel your teeth grind together in annoyance as Wonwoo's smarmy sneer grows smugger.

"And now, Tonim Town. What?" he jeers, seizing the chance to use the man's silence as a way to ridicule him. "Don't recognize what you've laid waste to? Must I bring up the big ones to jog your memory a little, like the city of July and Augusta or the hole in the fifth moon?"

"Why you —"

Enragement propels you a step forward, but the barrel swinging your way halts your next move mid-step. The sullen look on Wonwoo's face surprisingly holds no malice. He looks saddened, if anything, but you can't bring yourself to feel too much sympathy with the rifle he's now pointed toward you.

"You forgot one."

"Pardon?"

Seokmin's voice is hardly more than a whisper yet it rings out loud and clear amid the tense silence and stillness. "I said, you forgot one. There's not a name of any place or person I'd ever forget. I'm well aware of the ones you're talking about… and more. However, there's somewhere I won't ever forget that no one will ever know existed."

"… Huh?"

"Little Ivywood."

Wonwoo seems so taken aback and the pause unwittingly allows your eyes to drift over to meet Seokmin's brown ones. There are so many emotions conveyed in the sidelong glance — a mixture of regret-filled feelings yet ever so soft — and it lasts a second too long to snap the befuddled aggressor out of his reverie.

"Oh… I see." He pushes up his glasses, the lenses glinting in the pale sunlight like a typical anime villain. The long gun lowers to the ground the same time as he throws back his head to let out a bitter laugh. "So that's how it is! All you do is take and take and take, Lee. Destroy, destroy, destroy; again and again and again!"

"Aye, ole chap's gone off his rocker."

"You've made an ally out of a would-be, should-be enemy and think other victims with their pain and grief don't exist?!"

"Wow," Seungkwan wrinkles his nose in disgust, "yeah… he's gone completely insane."

Mingyu hums in agreement. "A little unhinged! Off the rocks! Unstable even! When can I knock him out?"

You'd love to give the gentle giant the go-ahead. Really. But even so…

"Damn you —"

"Stop it."

The townspeople's uncertainty and hesitance tells you all you need to know, especially when Wonwoo's hysteria leaves them even more perplexed. After years of handling a gun like a second arm, you can spot inexperience and fear of handling a dangerous weapon the second someone is near one. You lower your arms and step forward once more, confidence growing when he makes no move to threaten you further.

"You don't want this."

The corner of his mouth quirks upward, a rueful smile. "You know, I thought we really did share some camaraderie."

"We do."

"Yet you gallivant around with a monster like that?"

"He's not a monster."

"I should've known better, really, when the VERnons said you're the sirocco that follows after the humanoid typhoon. Heroes, my ass! I don't get it, how could you do that to others after what happened to you?"

To us?

It remains unspoken yet you can hear the intent of the accusingly barbed question. Two survivors of a wrecked hometown. Shared camaraderie hadn't been a lie. Even now as you meet the flickering fire in Wonwoo's eyes with a blazing flame in your own, all you can see is a reflection of your past and what you could've turned into in a possible future.

A cold gleam returns to his gaze as he takes your silence as defiance. Or maybe even shamelessness. "How could you turn a blind eye to such a bloody warpath of destruction when you know too well of the tragedy that's left behind?!"

"Isn't that what you're doing?"

"… Excuse me?"

"That's what all of you are doing right now," you declare loudly and some of Tonim's residents whose conscience stings have the decency to avert their eyes. Awareness of their actions seem to weigh down on them, guns lowering ever the slightest and the awkwardness encourages Seungkwan to speak up.

"We would've left peacefully tomorrow."

"But yer actions're gonna be the very cause of the destruction yer tryin' so damn hard to prevent."

"Because you took a bribe!"

There's a stilted, horrified, and collective gasp, so you try to remedy Mingyu's exclamation.

"It's because you let your malice sway you. Tell me, Jeon. What all did you lose?"

"My whole town. Then my parents. Almost my life and nearly Lina's too. My lover…"

"And your sense of self. Plus, the new life you've created here — and those things? Almost lost because of your own accord. Why would you destroy the few good things you're granted?"

Wonwoo's eyebrows scrunch as his face tenses. Your heart goes out to him despite everything, hoping to get your point across as you continue speaking.

"That doesn't negate the losses. The grief. The pain. It never goes away but… you can choose to clean out the wound, put some salve on it, and bandage it or let it fester and infect your body 'til it rots even your soul."

You can hear the shift in the sand as Seokmin approaches to stand next to you. He regards Wonwoo with a kind smile and the understanding, crescent-shaped squint of his eyes is like a punch to the other man's gut.

"…. I —"

" — It's your choice, Jeon. What did they offer you? Money? There are so many bets on July's militia lying about the payout. I mean, c'mon, there's no way a ruined city would have the funds."

"Yer Plant's no longer in red status, so ya won't need to barter no more."

"I'll throw in a better deal — let us go and I'll have Choi marry you and Sherry, free of charge."

His cheeks flush and you inwardly gloat, instincts right on the money. Seungcheol's jaw drops, absolutely flabbergasted, and the townsfolk exchange a few knowing snickers.

"If it's protection you need, we can figure that out too," Seokmin recovers and offers in a low voice. "And if Do — er, Knives — or his gang approached you with a deal, just know that they never hold up their end of the bargain."

"You're lucky you threatened us first. DK's side is a little too slash-happy and trigger-loving to resort to verbal methods. They're the ones you'd want to go after anyways, you see, this man and Knives are twins if you don't look close enough, they're eerily similar at the strangest moments. So the real story is that it's all just spiraled out of control."

"You mean…"

"I won't deny responsibility." Seokmin admits sternly. "It's true that I've wreaked devastation to many towns. Failed to save the people I swore to protect."

"But DK keeps forcing his hand to get Seok to join his genocidal cause. And every time he refuses to do so, his brother throws a tantrum and well, knives go flying everywhere. Literally."

"He's a little…" The gunslinger searches for the right word — and finding that there is none — cringes. "Dramatic."

You stare at him, aghast. "He cut your arm off!"

Wonwoo pales, swallows, and then grimaces, daring to ask, "So… I've had it wrong the whole time?"

"I guess not entirely." You shrug, also guilty as charged years ago. "And obviously not the first."

"And certainly not the last," Seungkwan pipes up.

The bespectacled man looks down at the ground. "I don't… I don't know… Do I even deserve this kind of treatment? This… mercy?"

"No."

With such a blunt answer, Seokmin's quick to protest with an admonishment of your name while Seungkwan and Mingyu suppress smiles at your straightforwardness. Seungcheol freely chuckles, lighting a cigarette.

And Wonwoo's face falls as remorse hits all over again.

"But," you smirk, "what have I told you?"

"Oh, ah… why destroy the few good things life grants me?"

"Good. You were listening. We might get along just fine, after all." You send him a teasing wink. "Camaraderie and all that be damned."

A sheepish look overtakes the man's previously hardened features. And suddenly he's laughing with his head thrown back like earlier, but this time it's with an unrestrained amount of joy. Relief. Hope.

"The ticket to the future is always blank, Wonwoo." Seokmin extends a hand and the other man takes it, the small grin on his face turning into a full-blown smile.

"Guns down, Tonim town. The rest of you, come on out! Let's celebrate!" He calls out to everyone, gesturing for your group to follow. "Drinks are on me to make up for this whole mess. I'm sorry for getting you all involved."

You turn around toward Seokmin, elation written all over your face that he readily mirrors. Just as you're about to grab his hand as he reaches out at the same time, there's a slow, loud handclap that sets off mental warning sirens blaring all over again.

"Conflict resolution. How very touching."

The velvety voice is deceivingly sweet. But beneath the dulcet tones lies a raw and wicked strength. It rings out clearly, even more so when the jubilant mood abruptly dies down as a new figure approaches.

"Aw, c'mon Joshie! Just when it was gettin' good!" Soonyoung whines and you belatedly realize you forgot all about the real enemies at the entrance gate, thinking they had grown bored and left.

"What about that was 'getting good'?"

The Beast huffs at Jihoon's surly attitude, more than likely pouting beneath his mask. "Was really lookin' forward to those free drinks…"

"We don't need drinks and we don't need you, Josh."

If there's one commonality between the adversary and your group, it's the shared disdain for the elegant-looking man dressed in all black fabrics with shiny leather buckles, and slicked-back locks to match.

"Hm. But I think you do."

Chilling ochre-colored eyes couldn't be bothered to look at you, drifting past you and Seokmin like you were nothing more than the grains of sand littering every surface on Gunsmoke. And like a marionette, your head automatically swivels to follow his line of sight, blood draining from your face when you realize what he's looking at.

Lina.

She breaks away from holding onto Sheryl's hand after they emerge from the saloon, bounding toward her brother with excitement all over her face. The arm that isn't supporting his firearm extends gallantly outward, ready to welcome her with a hug as he strolls to meet her halfway.

They're smiling at one another with so much adoration after the intensity from earlier. If you weren't fucking terrified, you'd wish Dokyeom was also there to see how pure a sibling relationship and affection should be.

Instead, your stomach lurches, and Seokmin hisses beside you. With your back turned, you can't see Joshua but you're sure he's smirking when Wonwoo's frame stiffens, body jerking as it moves beyond his control.

Hastily, he's cocking the rifle with expert ease and assuming the perfect position to fire it, something he previously displayed no knowledge on before. Wide eyes have no choice but to peer down the scope and he chokes at how it's unforgivingly aimed directly at his little sister.

She skids to a halt, ten paces away. Hesitant. Wary. Puzzled.

"… Wonu?"

It all plays out in slow motion as you reach for Sirocco, simultaneously screaming out to your friends to alert them and provide cover. Frantic panic swirls in the air like a sandstorm at the turn of events, but even more fear generates when the townspeople can do nothing but helplessly succumb to their limbs moving on their own too.

Despite every single effort and all of his muscles straining not to do it, Wonwoo's pointer finger on the trigger pulls back. It doesn't matter how much he struggles to fight for control, his body refuses to listen. Tears flow from his eyes even though he can't speak, can't yell, can't beg for forgiveness — the vehement sense of horror is the only thing able to overpower Joshua's terrifying control, leaking out a salty excess.

Bang!

Three gunshots ring out at the same time. You fire right before Wonwoo does and Seokmin follows two seconds later. Not because his reaction time is slower. But because he could see and calculate where the bullet's headed after you changed its trajectory by shooting at Wonwoo's barrel.

It doesn't end there.

Seokmin is a half-step closer to Lina and can move at an inhumane speed, diving into a tuck-and-roll to reach her moments before the residents have no choice but to open fire too.

You know he's fast enough to dodge bullets at close range, but the staggered distance spread out among all of those present in the town's square works little for that insane advantage. Instead, the skilled combatant focuses all his attention on shielding Lina beneath the loose flaps of his impenetrable trench coat. She clings tightly to his leg, whimpering.

"Don't worry, I'll protect you."

Continuing to mutter reassurances, he pats her fluffy brown hair with an unshaking cybernetic palm while the other rapidly points his revolver upwards to deflect a bullet that might've been lucky enough to shatter the bridge of his glasses. Then doing the same to one at five o'clock on his right. He angles his body this way and that as if a puppeteer is yanking the strings connected to his limbs to the perverse beat of an unheard tune. The few he misses land harmlessly against the thick kevlar material you're all wearing.

Meanwhile, your steady hand supports the familiar weight of Sirocco. Muscle memory aids you with cocking the gun as you run. Aiming at the closest group of people near them and then — bang!, bang!, bang! — snipe off the barrels on their guns in rapid succession, rendering them useless.

From behind, something flies past your face and nicks the top of your ear — one of the few places unprotected by bulletproof material — causing you to hiss. Scowling over your shoulder, you squint in the direction it came from.

While a complete bastard, Seungcheol is also the most resourceful ray of hope in a shootout like this. The Punisher's automatic artillery relentlessly fires shot after shot, destroying old and weather-beaten guns like they're empty, crushable soda cans. It's faster too. The trigger-happy pastor twirls it around maniacally, taking only the slightest care to not actually kill anyone.

You're a hundred percent sure it's because of Joshua's disturbing power that allows him to reanimate corpses rather than Seokmin's "Thou shalt not kill" lecture and pacifist philosophies that keeps the supposed 'god-fearing' man from snuffing out anyone's life this time around. Despite the bullets whizzing around, you know he'll fare alright with that healing serum of his — just as long as he doesn't overdose on it.

Mingyu rushes over to stand back-to-back with the pastor, x-shaped claws firing out of his 'stun-gun' and immobilizing many of his targets with ease. You can't help but grimace though, wondering if they'll sustain more brain damage from Joshua's nefarious telepathy or a well-meaning concussion that leaves them unconscious and no longer posing a threat. A solid steel object flies past the brown-haired man's head, knocking down the mind-controlled person who was trying to sneak up on him using a blind spot.

"Ooh, thanks, Seungkwan!"

"Pay attention, you blockhead!"

An empty derringer lays at said blockhead's feet and Mingyu kicks it away with a childlike glee. A brand-new loaded pistol is already in Seungkwan's right hand even as he throws away the one in his left toward someone approaching Seungcheol. The young man's never empty-handed for long because with another flashy twirl from out of his cloak and a new handgun is cocked, aimed, and fired.

Despite the distance and conditions, all three work together like clockwork. Different shaped and sized cogs all interconnected to succeed without causing too much harm. And you know you must play your part as well, turning your attention back to the few townsfolk that remain.

"Seokmin, switch!"

It's not like he needs the heads-up. The way you'd both been inching closer to each other every time your gun's fired already issued the forewarning. It's like a subtle tango performed by two fierce allies surrounded by deadly enemies. If you didn't know better, it's similar to an intricate sword dance.

But you knew how dangerous it was to play with knives.

The swift transfer of Lina's warm little body into your arms is a welcome comfort. Seokmin sends you a dazzling smile, one full of confidence at a successful swap.

"Hey there, pretty girl," you coo and your gloved thumb wipes away one of the tear trails cutting through the dirt smudges on her face. "You are so, so, so brave and I'm so, so, so proud of you."

"He," she sniffles, "my… my… br-brother. W-Wonu!"

Pressing a kiss to her forehead, you turn her to face the other way. "Everything's going to fine. I promise. Now, run to Seungcheol. He'll keep you safe while the rest of us finish this."

Seungkwan and Mingyu had effectively disarmed everyone on their end and now worked on dragging the town's unconscious residents inside the saloon and attending to any wounds. The pastor stood guard near the entrance with his Punisher staked firmly into the sandy ground. Although empty of ammunition, the machine gun still served a purpose as a great defender with its imposing cross shape.

With the target assuredly safe — out of sight, out of mind — the control Joshua has over those remaining falters and starts to lose its effect. In the brief lull, Seokmin dashes ahead to deliver a flying kick that helpfully unsheathes the dagger hidden in the sole of his boots, demolishing one more firearm in someone's grip before it can be used again.

Bang!

And with Sirocco's precision, the last two are destroyed as well. You match your comrade's grin and turn triumphantly to where the instigators still stand at the entrance.

There would be no casualties today. You and your comrades would make sure of that.

Joshua, stoic as ever, surveys the aftermath with an air of unbothered gracefulness. Jihoon fumes next to him. Panic spikes when Soonyoung can't be spotted at first until you spy him curled up in the car's front seat — asleep.

You fist bump Seokmin in high spirits. Then fearlessly meet a pair of deep orange eyes devoid of any emotion or warmth, a shift occurs in your smile. Confidence and satisfaction hone the corners of your mouth into a daring smirk and something about the bold taunt causes a rare flicker of humor to cross Joshua's lips. Whether it's scornful pity or simple mockery, you don't have time to figure it out because Jihoon snaps.

Nails.

Several of them fly through the air and their wielder's formidable namesake comes from the daunting color that makes the multitude of piercers look like thin streaks of blood against the pale blue sky. The spikes as long as spears are all fired from Jihoon's large suitcase-turned-crossbow that aims just shy of your left side.

Those steel eyes of his are as sharp as their color. The malice within them feels suffocating, so strong and heavy that it sucks all the breath straight out of your lungs. Only the pain from a nail grazing your cheek is enough to pull your attention away from drowning in the unnerving emotion and you put a hand up to the laceration to soothe the sting.

Wetness oozes from your skin, an unsettling feeling of sliminess accompanying the touch. Puzzled, your fingers retract and you ponder the sheer amount of red viscoelastic fluid coating them. There's so much of it pooling that droplets fall to the sand below while others dribble down past your wrist and under your sleeve, the stain blending right in with the fabric of your coat.

Drip.

"It's all your fault!"

Drip.

"Their blood is on your hands…"

Drip.

"Don't you feel guilty?"

Drip.

"Don't you feel responsible?"

Drip.

"Do you regret being the only one left to live?"

Drip.

Faces you know and voices you cannot recall overlap and echo. Unfamiliar frowning expressions and intonations you remember as once gentle now ridicule, belittle, and find every crack in your well-made armor. Insidious whispers weave inside, entangling themselves within the fragile support structures of your mind and very soul. They point and cackle to one another at such a sorry sight, only for you to realize you're angrily jabbing a pointer finger at your worthless reflection with those cursory words coming straight out of your own mouth.

Drip.

Your head turns robotically, like an early prototype of the lost technology Earthlings created. This time it's Sheryl who's the victim, helplessly well within the trajectory line of Jihoon's rage. Every muscle aches, weighed down by exhaustion. Your shoulder burns. Yet you still somehow find the strength within you to rush toward her, especially hearing Lina's desperate wail as she's held back by a grimacing Seungcheol.

Drip.

Like a comet, Seokmin blazes past. He skids to a stop, effectively shielding the woman right before impact. You're too slow to move. In fact, it feels like an out-of-body experience. As if you're nothing but a hologram inside the floating ship — an artificial intelligence projection with no other choice but to witness the horrors and observe tangible objects scuttle towards their inevitable doom without interference. You're left with no choice but to simply watch as the nails are propelled through the air with the intent to strike.

Drip.

Someone's screaming. Maybe it's you.

Drip.

The nails impale Seokmin without mercy. Strike after strike, they pierce straight through the material of his coat designed to repel only bullets and plunge deep within the muscles beneath his skin. One after the other. So many of them stick out of the man's backside like the skeletal bone formation for wings. He slumps to his knees, falling on top of a bewildered but unharmed Sheryl. When he only lays still with no further action, you're struck with the dreadful knowledge that he may never move again and it fills you with an unfathomable maelstrom of raw grief and anger.

Drip.

Suddenly, you're no longer drowning in invisible quicksand and can move freely again. There's zero hesitation in your now fluid movements — not even when the blond-haired man poises his crossbow directly at you this time. Pulling out the spare gun hidden near your hip, you blast the airborne spikes flying towards you without hesitation.

Bang!

More fall than you shoot. The anger, pain, and grief you wield is enough to tear them apart like they're nothing but worm larvae helplessly caught in a sandstorm. You stalk forward through the crimson ire that relentlessly strikes down, clearing a path that's littered with broken, twisted, and dented nails before resolutely aiming point-blank at Jihoon's forehead.

Click.

More people are screaming and the spiteful cacophony in your mind resumes. But your ears feel like they're filled with cotton and this time you're stuck underwater. Your chest rises and falls, trying and failing to collect yourself.

"… out of it!"

"Hyperventialing -"

"Goddamn it! Get ahold o'yerself, woman!"

The Crimsonnail sneers.

Your cheek stings.

The dissonance reminds you of the wound from before. But this time it feels like a sting, as if someone slapped you — albeit rather gently. Numb, you halt in place and cautiously raise your hand back to your surprisingly unmarred face. But rather than skin, you grasp onto something solid. Something familiar. Something kind. Something loving. Something safe. Something warm. Something that's yours — always has been and always will be.

Someone.

And then… you open your eyes — and find yourself staring directly into Seokmin's sparkling brown ones.

"Y-you're dead," you manage to choke out in disbelief and his eyes incredulously crinkle into half-moons at the statement to hide the tears brimming in them.

The soothing hand caressing your cheek moves to wrap around the barrel of the gun you're pressing to his forehead and he smiles disarmingly. As if what you just said was the funniest thing ever.

"I know, mayfly."

Part 2 | Read the whole thing on AO3

#ez.creates #svthub #svt.smut #dokyeom smut #dk smut #seokmin smut #lee seokmin smut #svt smut #seventeen smut #kpop smut #trigun au #svt au #seventeen au

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uselessmicrowave · 2 years ago

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-• transformers masterlist •-

[tfa, tfp, cyberverse, rid15, rescue bots, mtmte]

yell at me if there are any problems with the links, and everything that does not have “(nsfw)” is sfw. “semi-nsfw” can be suggestive to heavily implied smut.

-• transformers animated •-

starscream

starscream x shy reader (semi-nsfw)

starscream x reader (nsfw)

optimus prime

optimus prime x face dysphoric reader hcs

blitzwing (i know he’s an amazing character, i love writing for blitzwing but please all of you calm down)

blitzwing x afab reader period comfort hcs

blitzwing x reader comfort cuddles

blitzwing x reader comfort hcs

blitzwing x reader hcs

blitzwing x reader praise hcs (sfw and nsfw)

blitzwing x insecure reader hcs (sfw and nsfw)

blitzwing x reader temperature play (nsfw)

blitzwing x ftm reader comfort (nsfw)

blitzwing x reader inflation (nsfw)

blitzwing x reader (nsfw)

blitzwing nsfw alphabet (nsfw)

blitzwing x reader petplay (nsfw)

blitzwing x reader petplay, shock collar (nsfw)

wreck gar

wreck gar x reader praise hcs (sfw and nsfw)

wreck gar nsfw alphabet

sentinel prime

sentinel prime x face dysphoric reader hcs

megatron

megatron x reader comfort hcs

megatron x reader (nsfw)

shockwave

shockwave x reader praise hcs (sfw and nsfw)

skywarp

skywarp x reader comfort

blackarachnia

blackarachnia x afab reader period comfort hcs

lockdown

lockdown x reader (nsfw)

lugnut

lugnut x reader comfort hcs

prowl

prowl x insecure reader (sfw and nsfw)

bumblebee

bumblebee x reader comfort hcs

ratchet

ratchet x face dysphoric reader hcs

-• tfa ships/pairings •-

shockblurr

shockwave x blurr (nsfw)

shockwave x blurr overstim (nsfw)

blitzbee

blitzwing x bumblebee angsty (nsfw)

senop

sentinel x optimus (nsfw)

shockblurbee

shockwave x bumblebee x blurr (nsfw)

starbee

starscream x bumblebee (nsfw)

shockbee

longarm/shockwave x bumblebee angst

shockwave x bumblebee ikea date

longarm/shockwave x bumblebee au (nsfw)

shockwave x bumblebee petplay (nsfw)

megablitz

megatron x blitzwing temperature play (nsfw)

megatron x blitzwing (nsfw)

prowlbee

prowl x bumblebee (nsfw)

prowlop

prowl x optimus prime bondage (nsfw)

-• transformers prime •-

optimus prime

optimus prime x human reader falling in love hcs

optimus prime x reader (nsfw)

optimus prime x human reader breeding hcs (nsfw)

optimus prime x human reader breeding hcs part 2 (nsfw)

starscream

starscream x reader bondage (nsfw)

starscream x reader overstim (nsfw)

starscream x reader (nsfw)

wheeljack

wheeljack x reader fluff

wheeljack x insecure reader hcs (sfw and nsfw)

ratchet

ratchet nsfw alphabet

megatron

megatron x reader (dubcon nsfw)

optimus and megatron

megatron x reader x optimus prime part 1 (nsfw, dubcon, part two on second masterlist)

soundwave

soundwave x reader hcs (sfw and nsfw)

soundwave x reader breeding (nsfw)

arcee

arcee x reader hcs (nsfw)

bumblebee

bumblebee x reader (nsfw)

arachnid

arachnid x reader hcs (nsfw)

predaking

predaking x reader (nsfw)

knockout and breakdown

knockout x reader x breakdown (nsfw)

-• tfp ships/pairings •-

kobdss

starscream x kobd headcanons

kobdss fluff hcs

starscream as a ghost

ghostscream

kobdss (nsfw)

kobd

kobd mermay headcanons

shockscream

shockwave x starscream headcanons

shockwave x starscream (nsfw)

predastar

predaking x starscream hcs

soundstar

soundwave x starscream orgasm denial (nsfw)

megashock

megatron x shockwave (nsfw)

bulkscream

bulkhead x starscream petplay (nsfw)

starop

ghostscream

starscream x optimus prime (nsfw)

starscream x optimus praise (nsfw)

starscream x optimus size difference (nsfw)

starwavewave

starwavewave (nsfw)

wavewave

soundwave x shockwave (nsfw)

optiratch

optimus x ratchet angst hcs (death tw)

-• cyberverse •-

grimlock

grimlock x reader hcs (semi-nsfw)

shockwave

shockwave x reader hcs (nsfw)

soundwave

soundwave x reader hcs (nsfw)

-• cyberverse ships/pairings •-

astroend

deadend x astrotrain edging (nsfw)

wavewave

shockwave x soundwave (nsfw)

shockjack

shockwave x wheeljack (nsfw)

-• rid15 •-

steeljaw

steeljaw x afab reader period comfort hcs

thunderhoof

thunderhoof x afab reader period comfort hcs

thunderhoof x reader hcs (sfw and nsfw)

fixit

fixit x reader romantic hcs (sfw and nsfw)

grimlock

grimlock x reader romantic hcs (sfw and nsfw)

-• rid15 ships/pairings •-

steelhoof

steeljaw x thunderhoof (nsfw)

grimbee

grimlock x bumblebee (nsfw)

-• rescue bots ships/pairings •-

kade x heatwave hcs

-• mtmte •-

cyclonus and tailgate

cygate x reader comfort hcs

Go to the second transformers masterlist in my pinned post for more content!

#masterlist #100/100 links

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withloveoptimus · 2 years ago

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Request info and Rules <3

i've been meaning to do this for a while and thanks to an anon asking if i take requests, i shall be doing it now !

(note: stuff will be added as i go along !)

What I will write;

romantic scenarios

platonic and familial scenarios.

female, male, and gender-neutral reader. (i beg that you are specific when requestion x reader !)

hcs, scenarios, and short stories.

character x character (depends on the ship).

smut, angst, fluff.

mildly triggering content (with trigger warnings ofc).

poly relationships.

What I won't write;

anything offensive in ANY way (racism, transphobia, etc.)

extremely triggering content (SA, abuse, etc.)

sexual content involving minors (not even aged up).

What to include when requesting;

character(s) you want me to write for (a limit of like 4-5 characters).

the general scenario, plot, and hc

anything you want to be specifically mentioned/included

pronouns for x reader requests (i will do gn!reader if there aren't pronouns mentioned)

don't be vague, if you have a clear idea of what you want to request, please tell me ALL OF IT. even if you feel like it's too much bc i really don't mind <3

Fandoms I write for;

Transformers (Bayverse, Knightverse, Prime, and G1) Characters: Optimus Prime, Ratchet, Jazz, Bumblebee, Ironhide, Arcee, Bulkhead, Smokescreen, Mirage, Prowl, Megatron, Starscream, Knockout, Breakdown (yk what i write for all of them basically LMAO) Genshin Impact Characters: Zhongli, Venti, Ei (Raiden Shogun), Diluc, Kaeya, Hu Tao, Xiao, Ganyu, Keqing, Jean. Reincarnated As a Slime Characters: Rimuru Tempest, Veldora, Shion, Benimaru, Souei. Inuyasha Characters: Kagome Higurashi, Inuyasha, Sango, Miroku, Shippo, Sesshomaru, Rin, Kouga. Bleach Characters: Ichigo Kurosaki, Orihime Inoue, Uruyu Ishida, Sado, Rangiku Matsumoto, Toshiro Hitsugaya, Grimmjow jaegerjaquez.

if you aren't sure if i write for a character or fandom that's listed, please still feel free to request and i'll try my best to deliver ! <3 thank you so much for taking the time to read this, i really appreciate it !!

#request #rules and info #requests open #rules and requests #bleach #bleach anime #transformers #macaddam #inuyasha

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tinydefector · 6 months ago

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- Laboratory Logs 5 (Shockwave and Tiny)

My fic on Shockwave and his family over the time of him being a senator being gifted a human who he eventually falls in love with, to them adopting a outlier sparkling, the fall of the council, cybertron, Shockwave's empurata and shadow play, his struggle to bring his love one back throught any means necessary. And the reality of them being put together unintentionally by their child who ended up on the lost light. Involving timeloops, space travel and a fuck tone of trauma.

- Our Hands (beachcomber)

Light hearted little fic over the different between hands and how he enjoys when smaller hands touch and hold him. (Might turn out smutty who knows)

- Between Death and Hell (chapter 4 I believe) fallout. (My fucked up fallout courier and Joshua Graham bonding over not dying, parallels to each other, religious imagery, pagan mythology and Christian faith together in a mix)

- 2x Sos unfinished chapter

First contact human gets stuck on a ship full of cybertronians, or bots have to figure out how to keep the human alive without feeding them an ungodly amount of expired MRE's.

- of holomatter (smut Cyclonus)

Smut, it's just the second request of smut about Cyclonus holoform. Guilty as charged for his beautiful rack.

red rain & hidden in sight (unfinished cod fanfics)

My cod oc, his history and romance between König and Nikto with side romances in it, poly relationships, trauma, loss of love ones, becoming a monster to protect the ones you love.

- rut cycle Ratchet

- rut cycle prowl

The name says it all for these two, part of my transformers rut cycle list. Pure smut

-iron Giant ( Optimus x human reader)

My nostalgic ask seeing skybound Optimus and going hmmm he suits the iron giant trope. Found family, dad Optimus, man's whipped by a farmer and their kid who calls him oppy.

wip title tag game

RULES: Make a new post with the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it!

Delicate

TBD

How helpful is f/o in the kitchen

Pairing: Buuhan x Reader

Untitled - “The people say you are cruel and you do nothing to change their minds. You…give them a reason to speak of you unfavorably.”

In Another Lifetime II - Shige

Untitled - There was an envy of you among the other parents in the school district.

Untitled - “Hello again. Sweetie.”

My Future is With you

Saiyans going to Black y/n's family cookout

CHAPT 2. CORRUPT

Thigh Sex. - Shinjuro Rengoku

Sex Pollen. - Xeno Trunks

Swan Song

Radship week

Over a beer bottle

Untitled - "I don't get it. I did everything right, I got you to love me. Y-You love me."

In Another Lifetime II - Paras

Taint and Ravage

Neither Goku, Nor Vegeta II

I wanna feel you in my bones.

Spoils of War

no-pressure tags: @dreadsuitsamus @yeowangies @actuallysaiyan @beneathstarryskies @vegeta-bananabluish @emmacornell @loki-love @vampcubus and anyone other writers interested in participating! ♥

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jazz-miester · 3 years ago

Text

Music. It's life changing.

Pairing: Jazz x Prowl X Reader

Song: Sedated -Hozier

Warnings: Smut.

An: So uh... I was originally gonna do something fluffy/angsty with these to but I did this instead. I hope y'all enjoy!

When he asked you to pick your favorite song you had no idea it would end like this.

With his framed bowed over yours and hips moving in tandem with the music's beat. Moving to and fro as if he were on the dancefloor.

It didn't help that your other dance partner was just behind you. One hand upon your hip and the other splayed across your heaving chest.

The mech behind you chuckled. Lips finding delicate cabling in your neck. Sucking until blue energon wells up just behind the soft material.

"Frag Prowl. Look at'm. So open 'n ready for us." Jazz's harsh ex-vent flows over you. Heated breath warming your already to hot frame.

His hips snap forward and sends you arching into his touch. Hands scraping along his already scratched chestplates. Your servos scrambled for something to grab ahold of. Almost panicking when you couldn't find something to ground yourself with.

"A'hve got ya." Jazz's large servo grabs ahold of your own bringing your digits to his lips to lay a soft kiss. Along each finger tip. To the sensitive wiring in your wrists and back up again.

You reach up and cup Prowls face with your free hand. Pulling him down onto your lips. He fills every bit of you. Soft and delicate. Sensual as he kisses along your cheek and chin. His optics filled to the brim with love. His normally stern demeanor soften from both you and Jazz. Only you two see him like this. So open.

"They are stunning. Are they not Jazz? Look at this." He cups his hand beneath your chin the best he could. Pulling your head upwards softly. His thumb trails along your bottom lip. Your mouth opens as you gasp. Jazz finding a new spot to send you begging for more.

"More what sweetspark? You know ya gotta be more specific than that." How could he be so calm at a time like this. Spike buried deep in your valve.

You glance down at him and notice quite the opposite. His mouth is open slightly, pulling in a breath of air after another. Trying to cool down his heating frame. Arcs of charge zip down from you and back again. His optics bright and blown wide.

You could feel both their fields melding with yours. Setting off a field of pleasure one click after another. You could be at your most vulnerable, as you are now, bared for them to see the most precious parts of you and they give you nothing but love. A sense of safety and security to fall back into. Something you could feel without even having to try to.

The song ends, clicks, and starts anew. You've lost count a long time ago how many times it's repeated.

"I want you. Please. Oh primus please." Your voice wavers and strains as you try to make one last coherent sentence. You could hear Prowl chuckle above you. The only one in this dance not completely undone.

"I think we should give them what they want Jazz. They asked so nicely after all." Prowl lent down and pressed one more kiss to you lips before shifting on the berth. You could feel Jazz pulling up on your hips, his large servos splaying across them.

"Jazz!" His name slips past your lips as he picks up the past. Jazz himself muttering primus knows what under his breath.

You feel more than see Jazz's servo sneaking upward and grabbing Prowls. You feel both their hands on your thigh.

"Feel that? Every twitch n' shudder. Primus." Jazz's voice becomes distant as your on the verge of overload. Almost but not quite enough.

You guide Prowls servo to your node. Prowl glady indulges the sensitive nub.

One moment you still on earth, the next your flung forward. You could feel two hands grabbing your own as your brought to a crescendo. Other than that your blue screened, out of order, come again later.

You come back to the sound of soft voices and a cool, damp cloth pressed gently between your legs. You hiss at the overstimulation and go to close your legs on pure instinct. Instead a strong but gentle shove forces them apart.

"M'sorry sweetspark but ah gotta get you clean. " Jazz's voice sounds so close but so far.

"You still with us y/n?" Prowl was still behind you. The words uttered next to your audio receptor. "Y/n?" You nod your helm.

"Mhm. Still here." You could hear Jazz chuckle as your plating closes. He falls into the berth next to you and Prowl gently lays you between them. Your frame felt like the Jell-O the humans liked to eat sometimes. All wobbly and soft.

"Ya did so good. Ya know that sweetspark? Took us so well. Did so good. We love you." Jazz and Prowl took turns muttering praise to you. Reassuring you that they were still here. Nothing bad had happened. Everything was a-ok.

"Love you to. Love you guys." You still find it hard to find better words. Mind still to foggy and tires to think straight. And instead you press kisses to any part of their plating you could find.

"Sleep. We will be here in the morning."

And they were. Staying true to their word and not leaving until you've woken up and refueled.

Nearly a week later you were listening to the radio while you work. Helping Ironhide out in the gun range. From cleaning weapons to fixing targets that forgot they had to move.

Your favorite song clicked on and you smiled, humming the words under your breath as you cleaned the gun beneath your hands.

It took a moment to notice the heat pooling beneath your panels and the slight charge building. You looked up and blinked, once. Twice. Three times.

"Jazz you aft!" You could hear his laughter from the door way. Apologizing to Ironhide you took off running after him. Determined not get him back for your favorite song.

#maccadam #jazz x reader #Prowl x Reader #mah boys #smut #transformers #jazz #prowl #idw prowl #idw jazz #g1 jazz #g1 prowl #g1 prowl x reader #g1 jazz x reader

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smallestapplin · 2 months ago

Note

i drop to my knee to ask of thee, prowl smut please!!

i have a vague idea and might go off but ive never seen anyone play with seatbelts imagine going on a drive with prowl and he just gets a little excited and bounds you to the seat with his seatbelt

and omg- if hes brave enough, tells you to touch yourself in his seat and you can see his car rear view just cranking itself just to see you do it

anyways i run now thank you for your time!!

I hope you enjoy! ^^

warnings : reader is GN no genitals described, semi-public, even Prowl can be a menace

🔞mdni 18+Only!🔞

Prowl merely offered to drive you around, you've been cooped up at base for so long you need to get out, and your sweet boyfriend was more than happy to have a moment away from everything, with you. You were so excited to sit in his driver's seat, so happy to not have to be the one driving.

"Safety first."

Was all he said before the seat belt came down around you, clicking in place, securely around your body, ensuring you stay in your seat. You chuckle at his behavior.

"Prowl, with you as the driver I doubt I'd need it." You're not wrong, Prowl would do anything to keep you from harm, so why would you need to worry?

The bot grumbles under his breath but doesn't lighten up on it, in fact you swear the seat belt got tighter around your chest.

The drive is peaceful, just what you wanted too! You get some nice quiet time with your lover, with no one to bother you two, or demand their own attention. You place your hands on his steering wheel, pretending to be the one driving in case anyone caught a glimpse into the car.

Prowl nearly groans, your hands are much softer than he's use to, he can never seem to get use to your touch, feeling your hands on the leather of his steering wheel, rubbing against it.

It feels so nice-

"Prowl?"

"Hm?"

"The uh....the seat belt is a bit too tight."

He's glad you can't see his face, or how his optics linger around your chest that's now puffed out more. The gears in his brain module turn, until a devilish idea forms.

"Sweetspark, can you do me a favor?"

"Yeah?"

"Touch yourself for me, and I might loosen the seat belt."

Your eyes widen in shock at his request, here? Right now? You look around, it's evening right now and you're still in town, anyone could look around and probably see you! You try to wrap your head around it, until the cab starts to rumble, the bastard focusing the vibrations to your seat.

You squeak, body now shaking with each purr of his engine. If you move your hips just right, you can feel the vibrations right where you need it most-

"Why don't you pull your pants down for me, and show me how needy you are."

His voice is so low, almost a growl as he seems just as needy as you are. You should be telling him no, you're in public, anyone could see you! But you want him just as bad. Prowl lets out an appreciative hum as you carefully wiggle out of your pants, taking your underwear down with them.

You pull your pants down just passed your knees, letting you spread your legs wider so your bot could get a good look at you, already dripping with need. Your sex twitches at the sound of your beloved's deep groan at just the sight.

The scent of your need fills the cab, clouding Prowl's mind.

"Already? It's like you want me to pull over and frag you where everyone could see."

He chuckles, feeling your need slowly drip onto his seat. Your hand slowly making its way between your legs, fingers dipping into your juices to cover them, before you lean further back, allowing yourself easier access to your hole.

Prowl can feel the energon flowing through him, his spike pressurizing ready to fill you and his valve clenching around nothing, much like your own.

"That's it, be a good lil doll for me."

"Prowl..."

Primus, your whimper makes him rev his engine.

"Mm...it's not enough, it's not you." You could cry as your fingers slowly push into your clenching heat, it's not Prowl, just one of his digits fills you up so nicely, stretching you and prepping you to take his spike.

Yours aren't enough anymore.

"Perhaps I spoil you too much."

You thrush two of your fingers deep, desperate to press your sweet spot. Your hips buck, trying to fuck yourself on your digits. You spoil him more than anything, he doesn't even realize he's speeding out of town, needing to find the first hiding spot he can just to take you.

#smut #transformers smut #spicy #🔞🔞🔞#mdni #18+ mdni #transformers x reader smut #transformers x reader #valveplug #transformers prowl smut #transformers prowl x reader smut #transformers prowl x reader

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emotionaldepravity · 5 years ago

Note

If you’re willing to, could you expand on tfa Prowl human kink? Maybe his s/o is just grinding their small body against him while they say praises. I’m sorry if this is too graphic oomph

vgfhdsjh Hey this is totally fine! Its much easier to write this stuff if I get an idea of what you want to see.

Your hands gripped Prowl’s plating tightly as he laid back carefully onto his berth, the pressure making him moan into your mouth as you kissed him. Every small movement or gesture you made often caused Prowl to take notice of you, and especially when you two were properly alone, everything seemed to excite him. Even when he first saw you, he felt something in his spark that made him want to get to know you. And get to know you he had.

Your warmth had captivated him, and even now as his frame was beginning to heat up from anticipation, it was comforting to him. The softness of your skin on his plating felt like the After Spark. His servos ran down your side as he studied your expression. With a soft ex-vent, Prowl pressed a kiss to the top of your head. When you grinded your hips against his interface panel, his engine roared.

“Have I told you how beautiful you are? I’m not sure I can properly explain using any language on Earth, but –.”

As your fingers slipped into the crevices of his transformation seams, he moaned your name leaving his full thoughts unsaid. Those extra sensitive areas seemed to only be reachable by your fingers which allowed him to revel in how incredible your small body was able to make him feel. When you reached the seams directly around his interface panel, he was quick to release his already pressurized and leaking spike.

“See, that’s how much you turn me on.”

The euphoric feeling of you stroking his spike always made him moan. He found that the more vocal he was the faster you’d rub his spike and that made him feel so taken care of. How unfair it seemed that you could not know just exactly how much he loved you in that moment!

“For such a delicate form to make me feel so weak, how breathtaking~”

As you began to stoke him faster His spark surged as he grew closer to overloading, your cue being the amount of static in his voice ever increasing as he cooed your name. Just before you were certain he would let himself over the edge, he flipped you over so he would be on top. He brought the hand that had been pleasuring him so vehemently to his lips, giving each finger a kiss.

“Now allow me to demonstrate how much you mean to me.”

His servos ran down your sides as he took in your breathless expression.

“You are unbelievably handsome, you know that?”

His spark skipped a beat at your words. Even underneath him, you seemed to still be in control. He wordlessly continued to pepper kisses up and down your arm, your praise encouraging him to keep going. Despite his declaration, he wondered if he truly could express the pure, unadulterated love he felt for you or the excitement he felt from how different yet wonderful you were as a human. With just a few words, you brought his arousal to peak once more. His servo cupped your cheek and he pulled you into a deep kiss. Even if he could not show the true depth of his devotion, he was certainly going to try.

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sinfullyrosey · 2 years ago

Text

Jellyhead: Part Two, Electric Boogaloo

Azul Ashengrotto X GN!Jellyfish!Reader

Warnings: Slightly Suggestive Themes (no direct smut)

I hate posting from mobile. >:/ Couldn’t even properly proofread it and ended up rushing it at the end. Anyways, here’s more Jellyfish!Reader.

All characters are 18+

The first year was expecting a few things when meeting with the head of Octavinelle. He’d been informed prior about what to expect, after all. He was warned about the dormhead’s silver tongue and trusting demeanor, his ability to convince you to sign one of his contracts as if there weren’t any serious consequences tied to doing so.

He had been thoroughly warned to beware of the looming eels that prowled around their boss and the horrors both could inflict upon him if requirements were not met. By the time the student had arrived at the designated meeting time, he was prepared for the absolute worse. He was expecting the cold, sharp eyes of the leader and sharp-fanged smiles of the twins.

What he was not expecting, was to see the very dormleader sitting in his usual desk chair with what looked to be a jellyfish merperson soaked in water (explains why the floor was wet when he came in) sitting in his lap. Nobody had mentioned a fourth member of Octavinelle, especially one so… softlooking.

The jellymer’s tentacles were sprawled out on the chair and dormleader, their arms wrapped around his neck. They were nuzzled up to him, the wide, jellyfish cap on their head pressing softly into Azul’s neck and cheek.

The first year blinked incredulously as the jellyfish left soft kisses along Azul’s exposed skin. Aside for the slight pink hue on his cheeks, Azul seemed unfazed by the affections lavished onto him and merely continued on with his spiel pertaining to the contract at hand.

“Jellybean, not in front of the client.” Azul whispered, briefly interjecting his own speech, while trying to brush off the light touches of his partner.

“Hmmm?” You hummed, sending vibrations against his sensitive skin with each loving peck.

“If you don’t behave, I’ll have to have I or the twins discipline you.”

You frowned at the lighthearted threat, but complied, pouting oh-so cutely. The student gawked at the scene playing out before his very eyes, contract long forgotten by this point.

“Excuse the interruption. As I was saying…”

The poor, unfortunate soul’s entire focus was on the jellymer, Azul’s words not once registering in his mind. Instead, he watched as the mysterious Octavinelle student played with the other’s tie, lidded eyes dully focused on nothing as he waited for the transaction to finish and they could continue kissing their boyfriend.

“Ahem, are you even listening to what I am telling you, or are you too focused on other things?”

The student blinked and refocused his attention on the serious, blue eyes of the dormhead.

“U-uh, um…”

Azul sighed and presented a quill for the student to take and pushed the contract forward.

“Please, understand that I’m a very busy person, and I haven’t got all day. Another client will be coming in less than half an hour, so just sign here and we will be all set. I’ve presented you with the requirements, so just sign.”

The student was on autopilot, barely giving the contract a glance, but signing away anyways. He was too taken aback with the whole experience, reeling over what he experienced to the others in his dorm as he walked out of the VIP room, closing the door and leaving the two Octavinelle students alone.

Azul let out a heavy sigh and slumped back in his seat. You snuggled up to him once more, continuing where you left off.

“What am I going to do with you..?”

You looked up at him with big, innocent eyes, unaware of what he meant.

“You can’t just bust into my office right before a meeting and sit on me, especially not in your merform while dripping wet! You looked ridiculous, practically crawling in here and demanding affection…”

“Do you want me to transform into my human form?” You tilted your head.

“No no, that’s not… No, just, stay like this…”

Your partner huffed, repositioning himself and then you, so that you were sat facing him, tentacles wrapping carefully around him. He was the one now snuggling into you, face buried in your chest and allowing you to continue planting soft kisses onto his head.

He always got so openly affectionate behind closed doors.

You ran your fingers through his hair, humming gently and just basking in your shared warmth. Azul was completely limp in your hold, leaning more into you and clutching onto you like a lifeline.

All was quiet and comfortable.

Except, until you suddenly felt a presence on your lower half. The sensation of something rubbing against where your groin would be. The sensation of a clothed member rubbing against you, begging for more attention.

Oh.

Alright then.

Looks like your octolover was in the mood for something more intimate, if his continuous grinding and groping hands had anything to say. So much for not bothering him while he’s in his office.

Bonus

Well, today was turning out to be rather interesting.

Jade thought to himself while he worked the Lounge’s bar, wiping one of the glasses down. His gaze followed the figure of his jellymer dormmate, now in their human form, wearing nothing but a pair of briefs and a white button-up shirt, blissfully skipping their way through the Lounge and towards the fishtanks.

The eel could only guess who’s clothes you were sporting. And speaking of which…

“Y-y/N! Get back here! You’re indecent!”

Azul was close behind, looking a bit flustered and disheveled himself, glasses askew and face turning a light blue. Looks like he was trying to wrangle you in and prevent any more students from seeing his precious partner in such a compromising position.

And you merely gave him that innocent, wide-lipped smile of yours.

Jade chuckled as he watched Azul cover you the best he could with his coat and try to drag you back to his office, away from the prying eyes of the other students. He saw you plant sloppy kisses all over the flustered octopus’s face, leading to him picking you up bridal style and just carrying you back to the privacy of his room to deal with you.

“Ha ha, looks like our little jellyfish is gonna get it.~”

Jade was met with his twin, Floyd, leaning against the counter and watching the scene along with him. The other nodded, continuing with his work, even as his brother leered at the couple.

“Hey, Jade, you think Azul will let us join in this time?”

Jade thought for a second, turning his attention briefly to his brother as he processed the question, before looking back over to the disastrous couple. Azul finally reached his office door and was struggling to open it with you still in his arms, you giggling all the while.

“Hmm…” His eyes squinted into something dangerous, yet knowing.

“Maybe.”

#Twisted Wonderland #TWST #Azul Ashengrotto #Azul Ashengrotto X Reader #GN!Reader

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fandom-go-round · 4 years ago

Text

Transformers Masterlist

Soundwave:

Soundwave x Injured!Reader [smut]

Loneliness/Family (Winter Prompt): Soundwave x Reader

Soundwave x Human!Reader (Size Kink) [smut]

General Mermaid HCS (Soundwave)

Soundwave x Reader (Soulmate AU)

Shifter AU HCs (Soundwave)

Reading Minds Soulmate AU HCs (Soundwave)

Cat and Mouse (Mermaid!Soundwave) (Implied Character Death) {dark}

Interspecies Soulmate (Soundwave)

Yandere!Soundwave x Reader (Noncon) [smut] {dark}

Being Human HCs (Soundwave) (fluff)

Soundwave x Reader Smut (Light Bondage) [smut]

Seeker!Reader x Soundwave (Sound Kink) [smut]

General Naga HCs (Soundwave)

Sound Kink (Soundwave) [smut] Part 1

Sound Kink (Soundwave) [smut] Part 2

Watching Reader Masturbating (Soundwave) [smut]

Soundwave Interacting with Reader's Cat (fluff)

Learning to Kiss HCs (Soundwave) [implied smut]

Shattered Glass AU Halloween HCs

Tentacle Sex (Soundwave) [tentacles, making a video]

Alpha!Soundwave x Omega!Reader Part 1 [smut]

Alpha!Soundwave x Omega!Reader Part 2 [smut]

Helping Reader Dry Their Hair (fluff)

Omega!Human!Reader Going into Heat [smut]

Love Letter Event: Yandere Soundwave {dark}

Soulmate AU (Can't See Color)

Yandere Soulmate AU (Only Cybertronians have Soulmates) {dark}

Yandere! Mermaid! Soundwave {dark}

Femme! Minicon! Reader x Soundwave [smut]

Yandere! Soundwave Kidnapping Femme Reader {dark}

Fem! Sparkling! Reader Reuniting with Soundwave (fluff)

Knockout, Breakdown:

Omega!Knockout x Alpha!Reader x Omega!Breakdown [smut]

Knockout x Insecticon!Reader x Breakdown (Oviposition) [smut]

Mermaid!Knockout x Reader x Mermaid!Breakdown Courting HCs

Mermaid!Knockout x Pregnant!Reader x Mermaid!Breakdown HCs (fluff)

Knockout x Mermaid!Reader x Breakdown HCs

Knockout x Omega!Reader x Breakdown Heat HCs [smut]

Shattered Glass AU Knockout x Witch!Reader x Breakdown HCs

Yandere!Mermaid!Knockout x Reader x Yandere!Mermaid!Breakdown {dark}

Yandere! Knockout x Reader x Yandere! Breakdown Kidnapping

Jazz:

Jazz x Reader How He Shows He Likes You HCs

Soulmate AU HCs (Jazz) Part 1

Soulmate AU HCs (Jazz) Part 2

Reader x Jazz A Romantic Night In (fluff)

Reader x Mermaid! Jazz Protecting from Ocean Creatures

Ratchet:

Star Gazing: Ratchet x Reader, implied Ratchet x Reader x Drift (fluff)

Ratchet x Reader HCs (Daddy Kink) [smut]

Love Letter Event

Love Letter Event (Post It Note)

Flower Prompt: Hyacinth

Trans! Reader x Ratchet Chest Dysmorphia Comfort (fluff)

Prowl:

Aftercare HCs [implied smut] (fluff)

Trying Again: Prowl x Reader {angst}

Knockout:

Soulmate AU HCs (Knockout)

Optimus Prime:

Dat Grill Brah: Optimus Prime x Reader ~crack~

Love Letter Event

Reader x Prime Realizing Feelings HCs [smut]

2000 Follower Give Away: Homesick Optimus Prime x Reader (fluff) [smut]

Shy! Non-Binary! Reader Confessions (fluff)

Megatron:

Love Letter Event

Affectionate!Reader x Megatron (fluff, light angst)

Thundercracker:

Courting HCs (Thundercracker) [smut]

Soulmate AU HCs Part 1

Soulmate AU HCs Part 2

Rung:

Rung x Reader HCs [smut]

Love Letter Event

Whirl:

Reader x Whirl HCs [smut]

Reader x Whirl Messing Around [smut]

Cyclonus:

Soft Yandere towards Reader HCs (fluff, implied smut)

Brainstorm:

Drunk Brainstorm (Throwing Up, Bloating)

Cheetor:

Love Letter Event

Shatter:

Intimate Cuddling with Reader HCs [implied smut, voice kink]

Keeping Techno Organic!Reader Warm HCs (fluff)

Shatter x Reader Smut [voice kink, mass displacement, praise]

Cuddling and Confessing Feelings (fluff)

Asking for a Hug HCs (fluff)

Soulmate AU (Same Injuries)

Amnesia! Reader Regaining Memories

Mermaid! Reader x Pirate! Shatter Pirate AU

Jealous Shatter [smut]

Shadow Striker:

Helping Reader with Chronic Pain HCs (fluff)

Shockwave:

Prime Shattered Glass AU HCs

Soulmate AU (Timer)

Sunsteaker:

Vain: Reader x Sunstreaker (fluff)

Ultra Magnus:

Sensitive!Reader x Ultra Magnus [overstimulation, rough sex]

Sparked!Reader HCs (fluff)

Slipstream:

Reader Cheering Up Slipstream HCs (fluff)

Rockbuster:

Flower Prompt: Hawthorne

Mudflap:

Sarcastic!Reader x Mudflap HCs (fluff)

Perceptor:

Reader x Perceptor Slow Sex [smut]

Astrotrain:

Non-Binary! Reader who Loves Trains (fluff)

Reader x Mermaid! Astrotrain Part One

Reader x Mermaid! Astrotrain Part Two

Shockblast:

First Date HCs (fluff)

Starscream:

Cute Dating HCs (fluff)

Breakdown:

Prankster! Reader x Breakdown HCs

Windblade:

Male! Reader x Windblade Learning About Humans HCs

Dropkick:

Sarcastic! Reader HCs

Nautica:

Male! Reader Cuddling HCs (fluff)

Collections/Other:

Prowl vs Thunderhoof Part 1 (Prowl x Reader x Thunderhoof)

Schick Hydrobot x Optimus Prime ~crack~

Hide and Seek: Platonic Ravage x Reader x Soundwave

Starscream x Insecticon!Reader x Megatron HCs [smut]

General and Smutty HCs (DJD) [smut]

General Knight HCs (Optimus Prime, Ratchet, Megatron, Soundwave)

Napping HCs (Prowl, Jazz, Thundercracker, Soundwave) (fluff)

Cum Shots/Facial Drabble (Ratchet, Drift, Soundwave, Megatron) [smut]

Soulmate AU HCs Soundwave x Reader x Jazz (fluff)

Soulmate AU HCs Sunstreaker x Reader x Sideswipe (fluff)

Helping Mechs Relax (Ratchet, Soundwave) [smut]

Face Fucking HCs (Drift, Whirl, Kup) [smut]

Poly Soundwave x Reader x Megatron Stressed Reader HCs (fluff)

Cum Color HC

Ultra Magnus x Reader x Megatron HCs [smut]

Reader Getting Sunburned (Rodimus, Ultra Magnus, Drift, Ratchet) (fluff)

Reader Eating a Popsicle (Optimus, Ratchet, Bulkhead, Ultra Magnus) [implied sexual situations]

Ice Cream and Swimsuit HCs (fluff)

Buying Fruit HCs

Evil!Reader Manipulating the Bots (Ultra Magnus, Optimus Prime, Arcee) (Emotional Manipulation, Spirit Breaking) {dark}

Reader and Sparkling Dying HCs (Ultra Magnus, Ratchet, Optimus Prime) (Major Character Death, Child Death) {dark}

Walking in on Reader HCs (Ultra Magnus, Ratchet, Kup) [smut]

Yandere!Soundwave x Reader x Yandere!Tarn Escaped Facility AU Part 1 {dark}

Yandere!Soundwave x Reader x Yandere!Tarn Escaped Facility AU Part 2 [smut] {dark}

Human Doctor!Reader Fixing Up Bots HCs (Cyclonus, Shockblast, Dirt Boss)

Megatron x Soundwave Yandere Parents to Reader Part One

Megatron x Soundwave Yandere Parents to Reader Part Two

Face Dysphoria HCs (TFA Ratchet, Sentinel) (comfort)

Kind-Hearted, Open-Minded Human! Reader HCs (Scattershot, Hammerstrike, Hot Rod, Dead End) (fluff)

Smart and Shy! Reader HCs (Starscream, Shockwave)

#masterlist #transformers masterlist

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sxdmoonchxld · 4 years ago

Text

Proven Wrong | KTH

Taehyung x reader

Words: 4k+

Genre: smut

Warnings: Rough Sex, Oral Sex, Fingerfucking, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Cunnilingus, Begging, Multiple Orgasms, Very Big Dick Tae, Like Scary Big, Like Gut Splitting Big, Unrealistic Sex, Belly Bulge, Bad Dirty Talk, Unprotected Sex, Gets A Little Dubious Consent Towards The End

Summary: You call his dick small. He proves that it’s not, by wrecking your pussy ;)

a/n: again i use to be lizardsocial. this was my most popular story on here so im bringing it back as well. i think you can find the original one on here somewhere. i don’t expect it to get half as many notes it did the first time but thas okai. i’ve edited kinda heavily so it's a little different from the original. its filthier. anywhos. Enjoy!

__________________________________________

Loud music blasted throughout your apartment, the rumbling bass from the speakers reverberated through your bedroom walls. Pictures and posters rippled with each vibration, struggling to retain their original position. You groaned in annoyance, you honestly thought your request was quite simple. Just a couple of hours. 120 minutes of quietness was all you asked for so that you could study for your upcoming calculus test. He knew how important this exam was to you. He evened 'pinky promise, cross your heart hope to die'. That he would give you the silence needed to stay focused. And everyone knew you don't break a pinky promise.

Even now in your annoyance, his voice still played on a constant loop in your head.

"Oh! Yea ___, not a problem. I can keep it quiet for you. So don't you worry a hair on your pretty little head!" Taehyung had said, waving his hand in the air feigning nonchalance.

That cute signature boxy smile of his planted face. You actually thought that for once he would keep his word, and you could get some precious studying time, but no. The tiny 2-bedroom shared apartment was full of heavy jazz music and high-pitched shrieking from what sounded like a cat being skinned alive. Who even listens to jazz music when trying to fuck?

The last thread of patience had now been pulled too thin and finally snapped. Your desire to study was gone with the wind, and in its place, irritability and wrath began to take root. You slammed your laptop closed and threw it to the end of the bed along with your papers and textbook. Jumping out of bed, you stomped your way out of the bedroom, eyes searching frantically for your target.

"Taehyung!" You yelled once you began to process the scene that was in front of you. The living room was in shambles, Taehyung's phone was hooked up to the speaker, the volume loud enough you swore angels in heaven could hear. An empty soda bottle, chip bags and clothes littered the floor. Don't even get you started on the couch pillows! Your one of a kind thrift finds were strewn all over the place. You felt your blood pressure rising, the vein at your temple fattening in rage and pulsing wildly. Your jaw threatening to ache from how hard you were grinding your teeth out of anger.

Your eyes investigated the vicinity for Taehyung and low and behold there he was on the now bare couch. Lying underneath him was the source of the vexatious screeches. He was dry humping on some random chick with his mouth fiercely attached to her neck, deep purple bruises vivid from where you stood across the room. You rolled your eyes at the pair. You knew damn well Taehyung's thin lips and weak thrusts didn't call for all that useless screaming.

You stomped over to the speaker, your sock padded feet slapping against the hardwood floor, and yanked the cord from the wall. Already the apartment was halfway quiet except for the banshee that was still squawking her head off.

"Hey! Shut the fuck up with all that noise!" You roared, scaring the girl and finally bringing their attention to your heated figure. Taehyung separated his lips from the girl's neck with a wet smack dislodging himself from between her spread thighs.

"Y/n, so nice of you to join us. How is studying going?" Taehyung spoke with a grin plastered on his handsome face. You resisted the urge to reach out and slap it off. He knew that you couldn't or anybody for a fact, could study with all the noise that was just previously filling the confines of the apartment. Yet here he was playing with the smidge of patience you had left by trying to simulate naiveté.

"All I asked was for you to be silent so that I could study for my upcoming test, and you said that you would. But instead, I am interrupted by your noisy ass music. Jazz music at that and this bitch here screaming at the top of her lungs!" You growled out between clenched teeth. The female gasped at your words embarrassment transforming her features, while Taehyung sat there with a blank look on his face, apparently unamused with your little rant.

"Oh my! Please excuse my rude roommate Mino. Obviously, her parents forgot to teach her basic manners. Let me walk you to the door." Taehyung spoke his fluffy curls swaying with the shakes of his head. A look of disappointment aimed your way as he began helping her gather her things and walking her to the front door.

"Umm, actually my name is Mina." She corrected Taehyung, but you could see it on his face that he could care less about the girl's name. Taehyung looked at her for a few seconds, as if he was processing the correct information of the girl's name.

"Yeah. Mona, that's what I said, isn't it?" Taehyung deadpanned, pushing her through the front door. Mina huffed at the fact that Taehyung continued to get her name wrong. You observed the pitiful interaction as you began to clean up the mess they made. You could tell from the look in Mina's eyes that she wanted more with Taehyung, but you knew that would never happen. Taehyung was a manwhore, a fuckboy, man thot, whatever the preferred term was. He had a new girl every night, and if he did try the whole "relationship smorgasbord" as he called it. The relationship usually didn't last for more than a week, before he was on to his next conquest.

"Tae?" You questioned meekly.

"Hmm?" He hummed head-turning slightly in your direction.

"Why do you do these things to me." You were genuinely curious as to why he made it his mission to push your every button. This wasn't the first time his action has hindered you from completing an important task. You just didn't understand why he chose to make your life more complicated than it already was.

"Awe is little __ j-jealous?" Taehyung taunted in a high-pitched voice used to entertain babies or puppies.

"Huh?!" You gasped choking on your saliva. Shit, you almost gave yourself whiplash with how fast you swung your neck to make full eye contact.

"Did you wish that was you, I was grinding on?" Taehyung continued to taunt as he walked into the kitchen to rinse his mouth out with water. That Mina girl had put way too much perfume on her neck. Now he was left with a sour aftertaste in his mouth. It tasted cheap, and Taehyung didn't do cheap.

If he was sincere with himself, he did wish it was you he was giving all his attention instead of these random girls. He considered you cute and innocent, with an air of sexiness. That he was pretty sure you weren't conscious of. In all actuality, Taehyung was smitten with you from the first time he saw when you came to ask about the roommate needed sign he had posted. The cute little freshman with a quirky personality and full of ambition. Those first 10 minutes of meeting you had him sprung like no other. You were way different from the usual girls he was used to. Which shouldn't be much of a surprise since most just wanted to fuck, have money spent on them. Oh! Of course, the bragging rights, that they actually got to fuck THE Kim Taehyung.

Don't get him wrong, there had been a countless amount of times he had tried to gain your attention. But you were too busy holed up in your room with your pretty little head stuck in a book to give him the time of day. So instead Taehyung reverted back to his middle school ways and chose to torment and irritating you as a way to receive some type of reaction from you. He would take whatever he could get, he was becoming that desperate.

"What exactly did I have to be jealous of? You do know she was faking it right? I didn't think you to be so naive Tae, because you and I both know that them thin ass lips-" You stopped to point at the box that made up his mouth. "And that speck in your pants that you call a dick can't make anyone scream." You declared assuredly, moving your pointer finger down to his crotch. Pride and confidence swelled in your chest at the insult thrown at him. 'Good one __'

Taehyung spat out the water he was swishing around in his mouth and whipped his head in your direction. Did you just stand there and try to insult his manhood? Nah, clearly his hearing had to be a little off, right?

"Excuse me, what did you just say? My ears must be failing me." Taehyung said wiping the stray droplets of water from his mouth, sticking a finger in his ear to loosen the imaginary earwax there. Amused, he sauntered towards you, a ghost of a smirk rising on his face.

"You heard me, Mr.Kim. Your micropenis couldn't pleasure anything but your hand if even that." You said backing up, as he prowled closer to you, his shoulder in a tense bunch raised close to his ears. Any amusement his face could have held was gone, in its place was a dark, unreadable expression. His mouth fixed in a firm line, and the tip of his ears blossomed red. Flames of anger and lust flashing in his chocolate eyes.

"My sweet __, nothing about me is little. I can guarantee that." Taehyung growled out, his already deep voice deepened in tone. You scoffed trying to portray indifference but continued backing away from his advancing until your back made contact with the wall. Shit.

Taehyung placed his hands beside your head, caging you in. Your eyes fluttered softly as you breathe in his rich cologne encased your senses, dark, woodsy with just a hit of a floral note. His eyes roamed your face, taking in your features before settling on your lips. You self-consciously licked them before tucking them between your teeth. Taehyung leaned his face closer to yours.

"Such a pretty little mouth you have. Has anyone told you how troublesome it could be though?" Taehyung questioned, his thumb on his left coming up to your upper lip.

You could feel your heart beating against your ribcage, feel your cheeks heat up, and dare you say; a gush of wetness in the seat of your boy shorts. The sexual tension was too powerful for your weak defences. Against your better judgment, you let your eyes flutter closed, and lips pucker expectantly anticipating the moment his lips would meet yours. Except Taehyung had other plans.

He shifted his head to the right, placing a gentle kiss on the lobe of your ear. Slowly moving his lips up to the outer shell of your ear.

You couldn't help the surprised moan that left your mouth as you unconsciously tilted your head back, offering your neck to his probing advances.

"Would you like me to prove you wrong?" Taehyung challenged in a whisper. His deep voice sending shocks of pleasure zinging down your spine. He trailed his lips down your neck, pressing gentle kisses against the surface. You had to choke back the moan that threatened to escape you at the feeling of his soft lips on your neck.

"N-no, Taehyung." You panted breathlessly.

"I don't feel like finding my glasses to look at something too small for the naked eye to see." You spoke, resolute on getting in one last insult. Taehyung pulled his face away from your neck, growling at your words.

"Haha, hilarious." He laughed humorously.

He pulled your body away from the wall, hoisted you up over his shoulder with a small grunt, and made his way to his bedroom. Kicking the door open before unceremoniously throwing you on his plush king-sized bed. 'Not good'.

Taehyung stood at the edge of the bed staring at you with unadulterated lust clouding his eyes. His chest heaved heavily with anger or arousal, you weren't sure. But based on the sizable tent in his pants, you could guess the latter.

"Taehyung! I already told you I don't want to see your baby-." You started but was cut off by Taehyung grabbing your ankles and pulling you roughly to the edge of the bed, pouncing on you. His lips met yours in a kiss that stole your breath away. The kiss was sensual and firm, but you could tell he was holding back.

Taehyung snaked his hand up your body, and into your hair, giving it a sharp tug. You gasped at the slight pain giving him a clear path to ease his tongue into your mouth, coiling itself around your own, deepening the kiss further. He thoroughly explored your mouth not leaving one surfaced untouched by his tongue, greedily swallowing your needy moans. Fuck he tasted good. Like oranges and burnt sugar.

Taehyung detached from your mouth to remove his shirt and to help you remove your tank top as-well. Your nipples pebbling from the chilly air and arousal. His eyes studied your body, you wanted so badly to shield yourself away from his unwavering stare.

"You're so beautiful. I've waited so long for this." Taehyung whispered before attacking your throat with kisses. You whined out in pleasure, your hips bucking up with every love bite he delivered, your body was aching in need for more.

"Tae. P-please more. G-give me m-more." You keened in between pants of air.

Your hips now undulated in tiny circles as Taehyung trailed his kisses down your neck, to your breast. He sucked and bit the soft skin around your nipple lightly. Soon his tongue gently wrapped around your nipple, sucking it into his warm mouth, while his hand teased the other breast, kneading and pinching your nipple. Your moans were increasing in volume, at his assault.

Your legs widened on their own accord, making more room for Taehyung. Your pussy was weeping profusely. The boy shorts you were wearing were thoroughly drenched, and with each movement of your hips, your arousal perfumed the air. Releasing your nipple, he continued his way down your chest, moving his lips across your stomach. Down, down he goes until he's kissing you down to where your torso joins your pelvis. He trained his eyes on you, eager to see your reaction as he pulled your boy shorts off from your body with a wet smack.

"Tell me what you want love. Use your big girl voice for me." Taehyung cooed in a provoking tone. You would have told him to fuck off if it wasn't for his mouth hovering right over your clenching core, his hot breath attacking your pussy lips.

"Cat got your tongue? You sure did have a lot of things to say earlier." Taehyung teased once more. You moaned with each word he said, your hips thrusting upwards, hoping to find his mouth.

"Please! Just touch my pussy, lick it, do something! Stop teasing me!" You urged, bringing your hands up to stimulate your breast, you didn't know how much more teasing you could take. You could feel your essence seeping between your ass cheeks and coating the bed. The dull ache in your stomach was intensifying, and he had barely touched you.

"Mmm, well since you begged nicely." Taehyung replied, wasting no time in attacking your pussy. His broad tongue licked wide strips up against your pussy. Splitting your lips with the appendage with each pass to dip his tongue into your pulsating hole. Your hands found his soft brown hair as your back arched off the bed, pushing your cunt deeper into his face.

"Y-yeahfuck! Like that it's so good!" You whined slurring your words.

Taehyung shifted his probing muscle's attention to your clit, attacking it with kitten licks. You shouted loudly, as your thighs were beginning to shake. The coil in your stomach tightening almost painfully. He wrapped his strong arms around your thighs, your knees were hitched higher up almost touching your chest in this position.

But this way, he had much more leverage to devour you. The comforter on his bed bunching uncomfortably beneath your ass but at this moment you gave zero fucks. Taehyung had total control now, showing no remorse as your upper body thrashed about on the bed. Your hands were no longer able to reach his hair, so you opted for your own instead, pulling harshly on your roots.

"Fuck, Taehyung!" You wailed shrilly. Taehyung chuckled at the sounds you were making, remembering your words from earlier he couldn't wait to hear what you sounded like taking his dick.

He then rubbed two thick fingers in the abundance of fluids that your pussy was producing and gently eased them into your tight core.

"Not only is baby girl surprisingly noisy, but she's also pretty tight too." You clenched even more around his fingers, your wall throbbing wildly around them.

"I can't wait to feel you around my dick." Taehyung moaned sucking your clit into his mouth, delivering hard sucks as his fingers pumped into you at a moderate speed. Sadly, the introduction of his fingers was your undoing. You couldn't help as your legs stuck straight in the air. Body arching off the bed and bowed forward as your orgasm hit you like a freight train knocking the wind from your lungs.

Your eyes were shut tightly, and your mouth hung open in a silent scream as your body convulsed from the intensity of your orgasm. Taehyung had a hard time holding you down but continued his assault on your creaming pussy. He slurped as much of your cream as he could, absolutely addicted to the way you tasted.

"T-Tae, stop-p." You called out to him pathetically. Your intense orgasm had passed, but he was still thrusting shallowly inside your tight core, lapping at your clit. The oversensitivity was becoming too much, as you struggled to wiggle away from him. Taehyung withdrew his fingers and ceased his licking with one last kiss on your clit, making you flinch at the contact.

Taehyung beheld your fucked out appearance with pride. Your legs splayed open, displaying your spasming cunt. The way your chest was swiftly rising and falling as you struggled to catch your breath. Your hair stood up in every direction from your previous pulling, body trembling with aftershocks, and all he did was eat you out and finger you.

"Wow." You mumbled your eyes closing, sleep trying to claim you.

"Oh, nonono. I'm not done with you yet." Taehyung proclaimed, flipping you onto your stomach. He had to admit he was the hardest he had ever been in his life. His pants were now unbearably tight, and a wet spot at the crotch of his pants started to become visible. Taehyung tugged the offending material off hissing as his massive erection made contact with the air, free from being confined. You lifted yourself with jelly arms onto your knees, wanting to see what the commotion was behind you.

You choked on your spit for the second time today, as your eyes made contact with the angry red monster Taehyung called his cock. Not only was he unbelievably thick; a little bigger than your wrist, but he was also long. In his hands was the living definition of a third leg. He was crazy if he actually thought that would fit inside of you?

"Fuck that shit!" You cursed trying to scramble to the headboard of the bed, but Taehyung halted your escape, grabbing your ankles and yanking you back.

He would have laughed at your reaction, but he was too turned on, there was so much blood rushing to his cock he felt lightheaded. He wasted no time in putting you back in your previous position. Pulling your ass up so that it was sticking in the air and your torso was lying flat on the bed, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise.

"Tae! Wait...you can't be serious!" You tried pleading with him terrified that thing he called his dick was going to tear you apart.

"Not so little am I baby?" He snickered

Don't worry, you can take it I'll go slow." Taehyung groaned his voice strained, his arousal was beginning to take a toll on him. Taehyung grabbed his shaft and brought the bulbous tip of his cock to rub against your clit. You mewled with pleasure, his tip was hot and the pre-come he was leaking added to the sensation of relaxing and reigniting your body.

Taehyung continued to stroke his tip along your clit thoroughly coating it with your thick fluids. He placed the thick head at your entrance, your juices helping him to slide in. He watched in amazement as your leftover cum gather around the head of his cock in a coating out creamy white. Your body tensed up at the massive intrusion, your cunt pulsated wildly around him, drawing a deep groan from his throat.

"Baby relax, you're squeezing so tight." Taehyung moaned out affected by your spasming core. He reached his hand underneath your body and strummed at your clit once again, coxing you to relax.

Taehyung took your distraction as his cue to shove the offending length inside your prone pussy. You squealed at the sudden fullness and intense burning. Bucking your hips, trying to dislodge him. It was too much to take, especially at this position. Your pussy was going to rip in half.

"B-bi-iig-g. To-o mu-ch." You whined out stuttering horribly.

Taehyung gripped your hips harder to stop your fitful twisting and bucking. He felt as though he was about to explode you were so damn tight and wet, your bucking didn't help his case any either. He didn't wait this long to finish early. He refused to be a one pump chump. Taehyung reached his hand back underneath your body to locate your clit, rubbing it in firm tight circles, to help relax you, and sure enough; like magic, after you adjusted to his massive size, your body was suddenly filled with mind-numbing pleasure. Your whimpers turned into loud groans as you threw your hips back onto Taehyung, giving him the okay to start moving.

"Hell yeah. That's it, baby girl work this tight little cunt on my cock." He grunts before he withdrew his length and slammed back in, his dick splitting your sensitive walls, hitting every spot inside your clenching cunt. His strokes were fast, broad, and powerful, never had you felt so full in your life. Your mouth was gaped open, as shrieks of pleasure fell from your jaws, drool dripped from your lips, and dots blurred your vision. You could feel him in your guts, branding himself inside you. The coil in your stomach was quickly tightening, ready to release what was no doubt, going to be the most intense orgasm your body was about to experience. Taehyung could feel your core tightening up further, your tight little pussy was far better than he could have expected, he wanted to punch himself for waiting this long to indulge in you.

"You're taking this big cock so well, baby. Such a good girl." Taehyung growled.

"But I have a secret to tell you." You shivered as he stopped mid-stroke. You felt the warmth and damp skin of his torso drape over your back. Like pudding in his hands. You didn't even flinch as he brought his large callused hands up through the part in your breast to wrap around your throat.

Ever so slightly he squeezed the sides of your neck, you felt him throb in your stomach as you clenched even tighter around him at the action. Slowly he lifted your head up with his hand still on your neck. Again he squeezed. Bringing his lips down to your ear, he said, "Would you believe me if I said you're only taking half of me in."

The way your jaw dropped and your eyes bugged out of your head would have been comical. If you weren't genuinely terrified, that is.

"O-nly half! That's impossible I swear your touch my small intestine already." You tried to look back to see if he was lying or not, but he tightened his hold on your neck, forcing your head back to look up at him. Your body was now bowed in an almost perfect 'C' shape. You felt his other hand snake around your abdomen and press on the bulge that was his cock poking through your stomach. Again he throbbed in excitement.

"You were talking such a big game earlier baby girl, what happened? Surely you could all of a dick that's as little as mine. Right?" Taehyung scolded in your ear.

Little by little, he began pulling you more on his cock by your neck. And fuck he really wasn't lying he really had more length to feed your cunt.

"Ta-ae, pleaseplease n-o more-e, I can't take it m-my stomach hurts." You whined

"Hmm? But you're so close to taking all of me in. Just a few more inches, and I'll be all in." He responded.

Not wasting any more time he released your neck, and before you could fall down to the bed. He locked his fingers in your hair and firmly yanked, lifting you off the mattress, and into his arms, allowing himself the rest of the way in.

You screamed out as his hips met your ass with a wet smack. The increase in pressure coupled with the new position broke the levee to your release. You trembled uncontrollably as your orgasm started from your toes. Quickly spreading to your arms and head before finally spreading throughout your whole body, you were rendered speechless as your orgasm claimed you. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, as a burst of white light flashed behind your eyes, incoherent sounds of what was supposed to be Taehyung's name filled the space around you.

Through it all Taehyung continued to fuck into you almost violently, allowing your cores convulsions to wash over him. His body dripped with sweat as he briefly picked up his speed, his hips beginning to stutter. He held your thrashing body close to his as delivered his last couple of thrusts before moaning loudly and exploding his hot seed inside of your wrecked cunt.

You both fell breathlessly on the mattress, sweat polishing your skin, exhaustion quickly making its way to claim you. Taehyung pulled slowly out of your battered and swollen pussy. On wobbly legs, walked to the restroom to get a washcloth to clean the mess that was between your thighs. You moaned at the textured touch of the cloth and the dampness of it soothing the hot burn from your pussy.

Your whole body was numb, and you were utterly worn out, so much so, that when Taehyung pulled you into his arms, you didn't even argue.

In the morning you will definitely be having a word with him. But for now, you let his racing heartbeat lull you to some much-needed sleep.

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