#it is 2:28 am. love and light

[sexysilverstrider]

Resigned Reality

   He was the hero of this story.

   And today was the day.

   A charming smile. A confident gaze. This was everything he ever hoped for. Brown eyes glinted in the mirror. A wide smile curled swirls at the corners. How excited he could be. Being able to finally gain his very first Pokémon—his very first partner. It was a day he had long waited. A day he looked forward to the moment his gaze fell on a trainer and their own Pokémon. What joy must the trainer felt. To be able to bond with a wondrous creature that put its trust and love to them.

   A silly little laugh emitted through white teeth.

   “Paxton! Are you ready?”

   A voice from downstairs brought him back from his giddy excitement. Brown eyes blinked for a few heartbeats. “Coming, dad!” he replied, voice just as smooth as his ever-charming father. Giving his cheeks a few taps, Paxton took the black fedora from his bed and walked out of his room.

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

   “Yes!”

   A single cheer was accompanied by boisterous roars. The Totodile jumped higher and higher, celebrating his first victory in a battle. The fallen Chikorita was returned back to her ball, accompanied with a sigh and a small shake of her head.

   “Good job.” Credit was given where credit was due. “That was a close one, but I got to hand to you for winning this.” Rubbing the Chikorita’s Pokéball as a quiet way of telling ‘you did good too’, she clipped the ball back to her belt.

   “Cheer up, Taunie.”

   His voice was sweet and sincere. Damn him for his inability to make her be annoyed at him.

   Lower lip pulled to a playful pout; Taunie looked at her rival. “Enjoy this victory, Paxton.” Masking her embarrassment, she puffed her chest and pointed at the smiling boy. “Soon enough, I’m going to win the next round! And the next! And then the next!”

   Regret burst a splash red in her cheeks to see his amused laughter.

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

   He had heard about the Z-A Royale.

   About how brutal it was. How challenging it was.

   It was exhilarating. Battling trainer after trainer and finding great spots to hide and heal while planning out the next move. Paxton found it terrifying at first, but he soon grew more and more excited at every glorious victory.

   Nothing could stop his winning streak.

   His team was growing bigger. His Pokémon was getting stronger. Even his starter had gotten a new look, faring a much intimidating final evolution that scared both humans and Pokémon.

   He would always be his adorable little partner whom he spoiled like a child, however.

   Confidence brimmed in his chest. Looking at his rank, Paxton knew he was a few battles away from achieving the A rank. Everything was going so well. His participation in Quasartico Inc. was going well. He had enough resources to last for a few weeks after restocking in Hotel Z. Even his friend, Taunie was doing great, almost catching up to him and living up to her promise of defeating him—someday.

   His smile tickled a blush at the thought of her.

   Preparing his team of six inside his little satchel, Paxton tapped his cheeks and huffed proudly.

   He could do this. He could do this.

   Nothing could go wrong.

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

   Nothing was going right.

   The sky was tearing apart. The ground was cracking into pieces. Screams were still heard inside the city, yet they were quickly drowned by sounds of falling concretes and crushing bodies.

   Breathing felt heavy.

   He needed to move. He needed to move.

   Vision split into two, then faded into a blur. Paxton blinked—again and again—vainly hoping to retain his sight.

   It hurt.

   His thoughts in a blur. His mind in a haze. Pain quickly registered his entire body, yet all he could do now was groan and squirm on the cracked, dusty ground.

   All was moving too fast.

   He remembered reaching the rooftop. He remembered fighting his way through the enemies with his Pokémon. He remembered screaming and shouting, desperately pleading the mastermind to stop the maniacal plan.

   He remembered being too late.

   Fatigued and disoriented, Paxton had no choice but to initiate another battle. The fight was, as expected, one-sided due to how haggard his team was. All his life, he had thought that battles were earned through hard work and determination, and these would be rewarded with glory every time. And in his life, this had been proven after countless victories in the Z-A Royale.

   But now. Now.

   He learned the hard way that that would never be the case.

   As his beloved starter fell terribly, he remembered hearing a deranged cackle. Paxton returned his Pokémon and looked forward—only to be stunned at the sight of a giant, bright, blinding light.

   He was about to die. He was about to die!

   He didn’t move, yet he remembered moving—!

   Taunie.

   A croaked gasp choked out at his memory of Taunie.

   Forcing his body upwards, he scanned the area. Through dust and smoke, through shrieks and splatters, he saw her.

   He saw her.

   Still. Very still.

   “T-Tau…” Mouth gaped as her name broke through. “Tau…n-ie—” Again, he tried, then cringed in pain at the bleeding cut inside his mouth. His chest hurt. His arms hurt. His legs hurt. Yet he did all he could to push himself up. He gave what little energy he had to try his darndest to drag himself to her.

   “—ey…” His cry was drowned by a sea of screams. “Taun—ie…” Her name was broken inside a gurgle of blood. “You…o-oka—”

   Pupils shrunk as he now properly saw her.

   Her eyes were wide. Her eyes were opened.

   He saw her.

   He just wished he never looked at her.

   For nausea and despair spat more blood at the sight of her missing jaw.

   Crimson pool of flesh and bones puddled thickly beneath her. Her body lay perfectly still. Half of her head tipped to the side, giving him full access of what had become of her.

   Her eyes—positioned right at him—were void of light.

   Amidst the disoriented reality around them, Paxton could only feel his world shatter.

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

   “So, whoever wins in the A rank will get their wish granted?”

   He watched as she nodded enthusiastically.

   “Unbelievable, right?” A smile tickled her lips to see his baffled expression. “Then again, a lot of things had happened lately. Besides, Pokémon are considered mystical beings. So having one being able to grant a wish seems pretty realistic.” Hands cupped together; she stretched her arms forward. Strands of pink and white hair cascaded down the sides of her hair.

   Thoughts pondered on what she said. “I’m going to assume it’s one person who gets their wish granted, right? Like whoever is the final winner in the A rank?” Curiosity tickled him—something he had obtained from his father. Wonder only gleamed in a pair of brown eyes to see her laughter.

   “Yeah.” She was just as excited. “But rest assured, the person who is going to make that wish,” Blue eyes met a pair of browns, “is me.”

   He always adored her enthusiasm.

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

   Today is the day.   

   A darling smile. A confident gaze. This is everything she ever hopes for. Brown eyes glint in the mirror. A wide smile curls swirls at the corners. How excited she can be. Being able to finally gain her very first Pokémon—her very first partner. It is a day she has long waited. A day she looks forward to the moment her gaze fell on a trainer and their own Pokémon. What joy must the trainer felt. To be able to bond with a wondrous creature that put its trust and love to them.

   A silly little laugh emits through white teeth.

   “Harmony! Are you ready?”

   A voice from downstairs brought her back from her giddy excitement. Brown eyes blinked for a few heartbeats. “Coming, mom!” she replied, voice just as sweet as her ever-lovely mother. Giving her cheeks a few taps, Harmony took the white fedora from her bed and walked out of her room.

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

   “Yes!”

   A single cheer was accompanied by boisterous chirps. The Chikorita paraded triumphantly in circles, celebrating his first victory in a battle. The fallen Tepig was returned back to his ball, accompanied with trembled lips and a lowered head.

   “Good job.” His voice was steady. He looks up, right at his rival who is now full of smiles.

   His chest hurts.

   “That was a close one.” His smile grows wider. “But remember: this was just one battle. I will defeat you in the next.”

   Her laugh is all he ever wants to hear.

   “Cheer up, Urbain.”

   His smile almost falters.

   Harmony walks towards him. “Let me enjoy this victory.” Stopping in front of him, Harmony scoops up her Chikorita and gives the Pokémon a small kiss on the head as a silent way of saying ‘you did great’.

   Blue eyes merely watch as his heart twists anew.

   “Soon enough,” Her attention is given back to him, “you might win the next round.”

   His breathing hitches.

   “—Or the next—”

   His vision blurs.

   “—Or the next.”

   All he can remember was her bloody, battered body.

   Her head tilts at each playful tone. Unaware of the grief that shadows behind beautiful blue eyes, Harmony quietly purses her lips. “I know you’ll do great.” Thinking that her little tease might have hurt his feelings, she gives off words of encouragement. “I hope we can battle more in the future—that one, I’m serious!” A giggle, sheepish and cute, trickles out of her sweet smile.

   Ah.

   It hurts so much.

   A charming smile is perfectly practiced on his face. “I hope so too.”

   It hurts. But he knows better than to break down at finally being able to see her again.

   After all, she is now the hero of this story.

   And that is all he ever wished for.

END

[velvetbeeez]

۶ৎ᭙𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒹𝑜𝑒𝓈 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒷𝒾𝓇𝓉𝒽𝒹𝒶𝓉𝑒 𝓈𝒶𝓎 𝒶𝒷𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 ? ๋࣭ ⭑✮⋆˙

⊹₊⟡⋆ Allow me to dissect every fiber of your being solely based on the day you entered the world. Before that, let me introduce you to the art of Numerology, a concept as old as time…quite literally, for it depends on dates and time for its functioning. I never understood why it works, since it uses time and the calendar- human-made things…but I suppose somewhere, between the layers of inventions of mortals and god’s will, lies a crack, this sacred concept rests there…

Everyone has a numerology number which they calculate with their birthdates.

It is abysmally easy, hence my expertise in it ୨ৎ

ִ ࣪𖤐 ℋ 𝑜𝓌 𝒹𝑜 𝓘 𝑔𝑒𝓉 𝓂𝓎 𝓃𝓊𝓂𝑒𝓇𝑜𝓁𝑜𝑔𝓎 𝓃𝓊𝓂𝒷𝑒𝓇?

╰┈➤You add the digits of the day you were born and ta-da, you have your numerology number ♡

For instance, my best friend, Rini, was born on 24 (yes the month and the year does not matter)

So, to know her numerology number, I will add 2 and 4, 2+4= 6

Her number is 6.

My other friend was born on 9, we will add 0 to 9 and get 9, his number is 9

Now, I was born on 28, so, we add 2+8 and get 10, but we must get a one-digit number so we add 1 to 0 and get 1, my numerology number is 1.

Easy peasy ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

Now comes, the shimmering, brilliant question:

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅᭙𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓭𝓸𝓮𝓼 𝓮��𝓬𝓱 𝓷𝓾𝓶𝓫𝓮𝓻 𝓶𝓮𝓪𝓷?

The numbers tell you the planet you’re ruled by, thereby showing light to your behaviour, your life, your soul and the likes...

.𖥔 ݁ ˖𝓝𝓾𝓶𝓫𝓮𝓻 1

★ Ruled by the Sun. I love this one because I am a number one AAAAAAAASJSJSSKSK....Anyways, if you are number 1, you are a leader, born with a crown on your head and anger in your eyes. You are determined and ambitious, you get whatever you want with minimal effort. You shine the brightest in the crowd, attention is on you whenever you try to have it. Success and opportunity is on your doorstep at all times. You also keep your emotions and feelings within you, locking them securely and throwing the key into an abyss, frightened to show any vulnerability to anyone. You usually get stabbed in the back by people who you loved with all you had…You are glimmery, you glisten and give light and life to everyone around you but, beware, do not let your brilliance get to your head, or you might burst, taking with you, everyone else, down. You are a star, shine on...

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. 　　　.   　　˚　　 　　*　　 　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　

‧₊˚ ⏾. ⋅𝓝𝓾𝓶𝓫𝓮𝓻 2

✮ Ruled by the moon…. Well, you are the epitome of beauty itself, you are someone people stare at for hours without getting bored. Moon is also connected to emotions, you are a very emotional and sensitive being, like the softest plushy when poked a little hard with a sharp nail, tears, and bleeds cotton…You probably cry if one of your teddies falls off your bed. You are also very intuitive, you know when danger is lurking around, and you know when opportunity is near. You are also spiritual and see what no one else does, you are calm and cold, like water…Anyways, beautiful, gorgeous, calm sweetling, you are the best thing to land on earth. My friend is a number 2 and I swear on all I hold dear, she is the kindest, sweetest, though quietest, the most cherishable person ever.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. 　　　.   　　˚　　 　　*　　 　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　

❁ ๋࣭⭑𝓝𝓾𝓶𝓫𝓮𝓻 3

★ Omg, yes, Jupiter, my brother, and my dad are number 3. Guess what? Both of them are cunning and yet, wise. If you have someone in your life with the number 3, you must listen to their advice at all times. And if you are a number 3, hi there, the shining light and source of wisdom and cleverness. Jupiter is, in Hindi, called ‘The Guru’, meaning, the teacher. You literally represent the glorious higher knowledge, expansion, growth, and advisor. You are also humorous and fun-seeking, you are social, loving and jolly…But you might get unfocused sometimes because you like to do everything at once. Apart from that, you grow and you learn, you teach and you move on. You know what to do and when to do it, you are who people look up to before making a decision. Your footsteps are traced by many, they know whatever step you will take is in the right direction…

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. 　　　.   　　˚　　 　　*　　 　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　

꩜ .ᐟ๋࣭⭑𝓝𝓾𝓶𝓫𝓮𝓻 4

★ Number 4, You are ruled by Rahu, which is a shadow planet, not visible to the eyes but can be associated with Uranus. In the Hindu mythology, there is a story about a demon called Rahuketu whose head was cut from its body, by a god. Rahu, being the head and Ketu being the tail. Rahu is the head, the brains, the dependable. You might not be physically very apt but the cogs in your brain turn faster than the speed of light. You are an academic weapon, a force to be reckoned with. You are loyal, disciplined, and hard-working, however, you might overwork yourself sometimes and get stubborn with your ways. Anyways, you are cunning, you know what you want, you are pragmatic and you are well, someone to fear.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. 　　　.   　　˚　　 　　*　　 　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　

𖣂 ⋆˙⟡𝓝𝓾𝓶𝓫𝓮𝓻 5

★ Ruled by Mercury, the planet of intelligence and intellect. You are very social and good luck follows you like a puppy wherever you go, you are sharp-minded and intuitive, and you see through people as easily as you breathe. You embrace change and adventure. You are a social butterfly and make friends with a snap of your finger, you too, like number 4 are an academic weapon. Mercury governs versatility and quick thinking, which are key traits of the number 5. But you can find it difficult to commit to someone. You are also impulsive and can lack focus at times. But you are always quick to find your footing back. You see clearly and you act with a plan forged into the back of your brain.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. 　　　.   　　˚　　 　　*　　 　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　

˚⊱🪷⊰˚𝓝𝓾𝓶𝓫𝓮𝓻 6

★ The planet Venus rules number 6, which is the planet of love, beauty, and harmony. This influences you to be compassionate, affectionate, and drawn to beauty and art. You have an innate sense of aesthetics and a deep appreciation for the pleasures of life, whether through relationships or artistic pursuits. You are draped in laces, silks, and the likes, you make even the ugliest piece of clothing into a piece of art. You are the aesthetics of a Sofia Coppola movie in the flesh. You are also very homely, you want to have a family and you love and adore kids.  You are a born caregiver, you wrap the people you love in a warm blanket and hand them hot tea. It is not a burden and you love it, you love the feeling, the proud fuzzing feeling in your heart after you had just helped someone. You are usually the friendliest but once you have been angered, it becomes next to impossible to win you back. You are a great friend to have. Anyone who you love is blessed. I can tell you so because my bestie is a number 6 hehe <3

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. 　　　.   　　˚　　 　　*　　 　　✦　　　.　　.���　　✦　˚ 　　

♱ ༘⋆𝓝𝓾𝓶𝓫𝓮𝓻 7

★  Oh goodness…yes well number 7, ruled by Ketu, the lower part of Rahuketu. Another shadow planet but is sometimes, though wrongly associated with Neptune You are physically very apt, you have a good body and you’re great at sports. You see what no one else does but sometimes you do get lost in your little own abyss of thoughts. You also have a very romantic notion of love, something only seen in movies and books. You tend to do stuff without thinking twice. You are though, very spiritual and people feel a sense of calm washing over them after talking to you. You can be VERY mean when you want to (experienced it first hand, hence the omg in the beginning) though most of the time you’re a lil cutie, clueless and enjoying life like a party with the best booze and songs.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. 　　　.   　　˚　　 　　*　　 　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　

∞ 🪐.࿔*:･ 𝓝𝓾𝓶𝓫𝓮𝓻 8

★ Number 8, ruled by Saturn, covered in rings of eternal karma and longing…Being number 8, you are infinite, in every sense, your love is infinite but so is your yearning and pain. You have to work thrice as hard as everyone else to climb the same mountain. You are bound by the clutches of karma, to elaborate, if you wrong someone, it will come back instantly and with a 100 x force, hitting you square in the jaw, so beware about that. The perks though, of karma being your forever roommate is that no one can be a bitch to you and get away with it. Also, you will reach success and a load amount of it but later in comparison to others around you. You are calming and fun to talk to, you are spiritual with a penchant for exploring the unknown. My advice? enjoy life and lessen the mulling over every little aspect of it.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. 　　　.   　　˚　　 　　*　　 　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　

⚚ ⋆˙⟡𝓝𝓾𝓶𝓫𝓮𝓻 9

★ Number 9, ruled by Mars, problems, sorrow, yearning, beauty, and sweetness all mixed in a bittersweet pie…You have had a tough childhood, haven’t you? Yet you come out of all of it, the sweetest, the kindest, and with a gold-polished heart. You exude a tough exterior because you do not want to be hurt again but in the depths of your hearts you would NEVER wish bad on anyone. You’re just amazing like that. You make everyone feel at home but somehow always feel away from home. You are emotional and sensitive, even a tiny jab creeps into your heart, building a home for a train of thoughts that goes nowhere. But, despite it all, your soul is pure, your hardships do not define you, you are a being of love and greatness, you are spiritual and made for bigger things in the world. You are meant to touch the clouds and fly high above everyone else because you know it all…you have seen it all…

[sweetshuga]

ⓘ content warnings: smut (?) ⋆ +18 ⋆ fluff ⋆ pet names ⋆ established relationship ⋆ male whimpering ⋆ male masturbation ⋆ edging + more.

「 voice message one 𓂃 duration: 0:19 𓂃 8:18 am 」

“Good morning, mamas.”

(raspy giggle)

“My voice this morning sounds crazy... But I just wanted to say that I love you and I miss you.”

[fabric rustling]

“I hope you have an awesome day, babe.”

「 voice message two 𓂃 duration: 0:11 𓂃 12:42 pm 」

[voices overlapping in the background]

“I’m having lunch right now and it’s soo fucking good—”

(groans softly)

“We should definitely come here together when you come back.”

「 voice message three 𓂃 duration: 0:43 𓂃 3:28 pm 」

“Are you coming back soon? You’ve been gone for too long.”

(chuckles softly)

“I know it has only been a day...”

[small pause]

“But it feels like you’ve been gone far longer than that like I feel like I just...”

(sigh)

“I just miss you so much and—”

[the sound of knocking]

“Shit, Dani’s here, gotta go- Oh, and don’t forget to send me some cute outfit of the day and cute shit like that alright?”

(kissing noises)

“Love you, baby.”

「 voice message four 𓂃 duration: 1:12 𓂃 7:30 pm 」

“I just came back from hanging out with Dani and he just told me he’s been trying to pursue a guy... I think his name was Nick."

(chews loudly)

“I feel like I’m chewing loudly but I’m eating those donuts that you like so much but don’t worry I got you some too—”

[loud clatter]

“Shit, I just dropped my books.”

(chuckles)

“I wanna keep talking to my pretty girl but I really need a shower right now ’cause I feel so fucking sweaty."

(long sigh)

“It’s getting too hot outside...”

[click of the bathroom light switch]

“I’ll maybe send you some steamy shower pics.”

(giggles loudly)

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop.”

[rustling]

“I love you and I’ll text you later.”

(kissing noises)

「 voice message five 𓂃 duration: 0:34 𓂃 8:51 pm 」

[fabric rustling]

“I’m in bed already...”

(giggles)

“Isn’t that crazy, babe?”

[small pause]

“I think this might be the first time I’ve gone to bed this early.”

[fabric rustling]

“Sleeping in the dorm without you feels so weird like it feels empty and cold and—”

(yawn)

“I think I’m gonna—”

(yawn)

“Sleep now...”

(chuckles)

“Good night, love you so much.”

「 voice message six 𓂃 duration: 2:06 𓂃 4:05 am 」

“I woke up a while ago... and, and I was so fucking hard.”

[fabric rustling]

“I was gonna ignore it but then I saw that you sent me those pics of you in your cute fucking outfits and—”

(breath catches audibly)

“And I couldn’t help myself.”

[wet squelching in the background]

“Need you... I need you, ma.”

(barely audible whimper)

“Like so—mmph—fucking bad.”

[fabric rustling]

“Sh-shit--”

(heavy breathing)

“I’m so close... But I don’t... I don’t wanna come alone...”

[louder and wetter squelches]

“I-I love you—mmph-nhgn—love you, I love you so much... I love you, baby—”

(breath catches)

✧ english is not my first language! || wc: 0.4k ✧

Isa’s rambling ۶ৎ This concept was first done by @kiemiu so credits to her. I wasn’t gonna do it but it’s been trending lately and *sigh* I got tempted 💔

⟢ roomie!chris taglist: @certified-sturniolo @sturnioloszn @xeslver @slut4brunettes @wpcne8sr @ribread03 @poolover123 @h3arts4nat @m11rx @stqrnlvs @sturnslutz @fallingforfalll2 @matts1freak @brookheartsmatt @paybry @mmonkeylvr @allineedismatt @oopsiedaisydeer @shortnsweetsturnz @sagesturns @corspebridedelrey @anonymouslyachrisgirl @v33angel @starrii-sturns @heartsforvin @xxbaconlover69 @babiedolllz @miaaaoa @riannas-stuff @chrissbabymumma

[animusrox]

MY LETTERBOXD

TOP 10

1.    Dune: Part Two 2.    The Substance 3.    Hundreds of Beavers 4.    Anora 5.    Dìdi 6.    Nosferatu 7.    Nickel Boys 8.    The First Omen 9.    Sing Sing 10.    Civil War

GRADE A 

11.    No Other Land 12.    Robot Dreams 13.    The Peasants 14.    Conclave 15.    Smile 2 16.    Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes 17.    We Grown Now 18.    Memoir of a Snail 19.    The Last Stop in Yuma County 20.    A Real Pain 21.    It’s What’s Inside 22.    Red Rooms 23.    Sometimes I Think About Dying 24.    A Different Man 25.    Better Man 26.    The Brutalist 27.    Heretic 28.    His Three Daughters 29.    Hard Truths 30.    Evil Does Not Exist 31.    Late Night with the Devil 32.    Alien: Romulus 33.    MadS 34.    Rebel Ridge 35.    Humanist Vampire Seeking Consenting Suicidal Person 36.    Challengers 37.    Strange Darling 38.    Flow 39.    All We Imagine as Light 40.    Longlegs 41.    Saturday Night 42.    The Apprentice 43.    Terrifier 3 44.    The Seed of the Sacred Fig 45.    A Complete Unknown 46.    A Quiet Place: Day One 47.    Juror #2 48.    Wallace & Gromit: Vengeance Most Fowl 49.    Oddity 50.    Kneecap 51.    Touch 52.    Mayhem! 53.    The Order 54.    In a Violent Nature 55.    Small Things Like These 56.    Twisters 57.    Hit Man 58.    Woman of the Hour 59.    Stopmotion 60.    The Wild Robot 61.    Deadpool & Wolverine

[Tap 'Keep Reading' For My Full Graded List]

GRADE B

62.    The Devil’s Bath 63.    The Bikeriders 64.    Sasquatch Sunset 65.    The Lord of the Rings: The War of the Rohirrim 66.    Monkey Man 67.    Last Straw 68.    Abigail 69.    Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga 70.    Tiger Stripes 71.    The Book of Clarence 72.    The Instigators 73.    I’m Still Here 74.    The Coffee Table 75.    The Return 76.    Problemista 77.    Trap 78.    MaXXXine 79.    Love Lies Bleeding 80.    You’ll Never Find Me 81.    Between the Temples 82.    Marmalade 83.    Blitz 84.    Speak No Evil 85.    Asphalt City 86.    Piece By Piece 87.    Wicked Little Letters 88.    We Live in Time 89.    Super/Man: The Christopher Reeve Story 90.    V/H/S/Beyond 91.    The Dead Don’t Hurt 92.    Suncoast 93.    Maria 94.    My Old Ass 95.    Immaculate 96.    The Truth vs. Alex Jones 97.    Cuckoo 98.    Daddio 99.    We Were Dangerous 100.    The Outrun 101.    Infested 102.    Monolith 103.    Azrael 104.    The Last Showgirl 105.    Babes 106.    The Fire Inside 107.    Lisa Frankenstein 108.    Here 109.    Thelma 110.    Queer 111.    Out of Darkness 112.    Y2K 113.    Handling the Undead 114.    Bad Boys: Ride or Die 115.    I Saw the TV Glow 116.    Arcadian 117.    Transformers One 118.    Never Let Go 119.    The Piano Lesson 120.    Beverly Hills Cop: Axel F 121.    Wicked 122.    Gladiator II 123.    Carry-On 124.    Blink Twice 125.    Self Reliance 126.    Fly Me to the Moon 127.    Boy Kills World 128.    Kinds of Kindness 129.    Nutcrackers 130.    Skincare 131.    Ezra 132.    The Front Room 133.    Mothers’ Instinct 134.    Inside Out 2 135.    Omni Loop 136.    Girls State 137.    Beetlejuice Beetlejuice 138.    Your Monster 139.    Babygirl 140.    Mufasa: The Lion King 141.    The Greatest Hits 142.    Horizon: An American Saga - Chapter 1 143.    Magpie

GRADE C 

144.    The People’s Joker 145.    Nightbitch 146.    Road House 147.    Young Woman and the Sea 148.    Am I OK? 149.    Music by John Williams 150.    The Killer’s Game 151.    Oh, Canada 152.    Wolfs 153.    Sting 154.    The Idea of You 155.    Don’t Move 156.    1992 157.    Werewolves 158.    The Killer 159.    The Shadow Strays 160.    Rez Ball 161.    MoviePass, MovieCrash 162.    The Fall Guy 163.    Lee 164.    The End 165.    Godzilla �� Kong: The New Empire 166.    The Ministry of Ungentlemanly Warfare 167.    Madame Web 168.    Caddo Lake 169.    Watchmen: Chapter II 170.    Watchmen: Chapter I 171.    Salem’s Lot 172.    The Exorcism 173.    The Watchers 174.    Kill 175.    Jackpot! 176.    Rumours 177.    Damsel 178.    My Spy: The Eternal City 179.    Drive-Away Dolls 180.    IF 181.    Spaceman 182.    Joy 183.    Joker: Folie à Deux 184.    Megalopolis 185.    Monster Summer 186.    Lovely, Dark, and Deep 187.    Bob Marley: One Love 188.    Kraven the Hunter 189.    Moana 2 190.    I Used to Be Funny 191.    Goodrich 192.    September 5 193.    Hold Your Breath 194.    Apartment 7A

GRADE F

195.    The Platform 2 196.    Arthur the King 197.    Shirley 198.    Back to Black 199.    Land of Bad 200.    Poolman 201.    Emilia Pérez 202.    The Room Next Door 203.    I.S.S. 204.    Brothers 205.    Knox Goes Away 206.    Mean Girls 207.    Krazy House 208.    Slingshot 209.    Mr. Crocket 210.    Argylle 211.    Sonic the Hedgehog 3 212.    Winnie-the-Pooh: Blood and Honey 2 213.    Afraid 214.    Tuesday 215.    Spellbound 216.    Justice League: Crisis on Infinite Earths Part Three 217.    Justice League: Crisis on Infinite Earths Part Two 218.    Justice League: Crisis on Infinite Earths Part One 219.    The American Society of Magical Negroes 220.    Subservience 221.    Time Cut 222.    Night Swim 223.    Ghostbusters: Frozen Empire 224.    Red One 225.    This Is Me…Now 226.    Despicable Me 4 227.    The Union 228.    Ricky Stanicky 229.    The Beekeeper 230.    Honeymoonish 231.    Hot Frosty 232.    The Deliverance 233.    The Garfield Movie 234.    Lift 235.    Atlas 236.    Trigger Warning 237.    House of Spoils 238.    Borderlands 239.    Tarot 240.    Venom: The Last Dance

Bottom 10

241.    Imaginary 242.    Unfrosted 243.    It Ends With Us 244.    Dear Santa 245.    The Crow 246.    The Strangers: Chapter 1 247.    Harold and the Purple Crayon 248.    Rebel Moon - Part Two: The Scargiver 249.    Dirty Angels 250.    Miller’s Girl

[scriptastra]

❋ * 𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐄 𝐏𝐎𝐄𝐓𝐑𝐘 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒 * ❋ ⠀ a bouquet of metaphors ; spilled ink & summer skin

1. I found your name pressed between the pages of june 2. kissed by the sun but thinking of you 3. you were the underline in every chapter I reread 4. we were prose pretending to be permanence 5. a love like wild thyme & cigarette ash 6. I was the orchard. you only wanted the wine 7. I spilled a bottle of rosé and blamed the stars 8. our love—sun-warmed, barefoot, and wildly unafraid 9. I dressed up for the sunset like it was a lover 10. I made tea and forgave myself again 11. we met in the fantasy section—how fitting 12. you annotated my life with quiet affection 13. some days, I date the sky. some days, I marry the moon 14. joy arrived in sonnets and strawberries 15. I became a bouquet in your hands 16. the cicadas went silent when you touched me 17. June wrote your name in sweat down my spine 18. you made me believe in soft landings 19. I became the person I used to write about  20. the sun came back and so did I  21. I found pieces of us in every golden hour 22. you made summer feel like forever 23. I am my own protagonist and today, I got the love arc 24. june was all lavender 25. you and the strawberry moon 26. we almost had forever. we settled for june 27. my love language is long walks through bookstores and glances 28. film photos from that summer 29. aperol spritz ; the summer air ; you and me 30. the last light of june caught on my collarbone, and lingered

[n1pp]

30 DAY GLOW UP AFFIRMATIONS

1. I am deserving of all the good things that come into my life.

2. I radiate confidence, grace, and positivity.

3. I am grateful for the beauty and abundance in my life.

4. I attract positive and like-minded people into my life.

5. I am constantly evolving into the best version of myself.

6. I release all negative thoughts and embrace positivity.

7. I am in control of my life and my happiness.

8. I am strong, resilient, and capable of overcoming any obstacle.

9. I trust the process of life and know that everything happens for a reason.

10. I am worthy of love and respect, starting with myself. 1t. I embrace change and see it as an opportunity for growth.

12. I forgive myself for any past mistakes and let go of regret.

13. I am a magnet for success, abundance, and prosperity.

14. I choose to see the good in myself and others.

15. I am confident in my abilities and talents.

16. I am beautiful inside and out, and feel my light shine.

17. I honor my body by nourishing it with healthy choices.

18. I am open to new opportunities and experiences.

19. I trust my intuition and follow my heart.

20. I am surrounded by love, light, and positivity.

21. I embrace my uniqueness and celebrate my individuality.

22. I am at peace with who I am and where I am on my journey.

23. I am enough, just as I am.

24. I release all fears and doubts that hold me back.

25. I am aligned with my purpose and follow my dreams with passion.

26. I radiate happiness, joy, and gratitude.

27. 1 am a powerful creator, and I manifest my desires with ease.

28. I am open to receiving all the good that life has to offer.

29. I am constantly learning, growing, and improving.

3o. I am stepping into my power and embracing my best self every day.

[sailorsoons]

Texas Sun (l.sm)

ASSIGNMENT: Outrider!Seokmin x f. reader 

MISSION DEBRIEF: Seokmin remembers nothing before the Station. Just the unending desert, the cobalt sky overhead, and kill any machine he sees. Then one day, he finds you and forgets everything he’s ever been trained to do.

LOG COUNT: 27,020

ASSIGNMENT TYPE: Dystopian AU, Futuristic

MISSION ELEMENTS: Angst, Strangers to Lovers, Smut

RATING: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging in and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

DANGERS: Ambiguous world building, a bit of an unreliable narrator, depictions of intense loneliness and depression, depictions of hallucinations/heat exhaustion, intense combat scenes with machines, depiction of minor injuries, mentions of reader being held captive, some light social commentary on life vs. machine/what constitutes a Thing as Living, reader and DK are a bit awkward (they're never around people ok!!!!), depiction of blood/minor hand injury, explicit language, explicit sexual content including oral (f. receiving), unprotected sex (v awkward convo about this because .. you'll see in the context it makes sense), implied both DK and reader are virgins, multiple orgasms, a bit of a distressing scene at the end.

MISSION NOTES: This is an idea I have had for about eight months and I am finally taking the time to do it. I am so so excited to bring you this fic, and it has been so much fun to write. I hope you enjoy this very unique world as much as I do. This story is a bit inspired by Horizon Zero Dawn, Fallout, Zoids and The Creator. 

MISSIONS NOTES 2: Thank you @daechwitatamic for beta-reading and leaving several comments telling me to stop writing for free I love you

MAIN MASTERLIST | ASK | ▷ NOW PLAYING: TEXAS SUN

LOCATION… STATION 0218, POTENTIALLY TEXAS

DATE … THURSDAY, JUNE 28, 8099

WEATHER … CLEAR SKIES, 115 DEGREES FAHRENHEIT 

DAYS WITHOUT MACHINE ENCOUNTER … EIGHT

AN ENDLESS COBALT SKY STRETCHES OVER STATION 0218. Always endless, always fathomless. Seokmin has never seen where the sky begins or ends. He doesn’t know if the blue is different in other parts of the world. Doesn’t remember if everywhere else the sun sizzles against the blue, a burning orange hole singeing its way across the entire expanse of sky before it sinks toward the horizon and turns the world purple. Pink. Gold. 

The days are hot, even when he manages to keep the Station cool. It’s an old, small Station, meant to only occupy a single Outrider. He’s been the only one that he knows of here. Just him, the groaning generator, the cracked sunpanels, and the orange dust. 

Seokmin thinks the dust is the worst part. It clings to every part of him, crawling into places he doesn’t know existed, never reachable, always there. It dries out his mouth, makes his teeth feel gritty. Burns his eyes, turning them red and raw and stinging. 

He can’t escape the dust. It’s everywhere. He thinks if he cracked open his chest cavity to look at his beating heart, he’d find the dust there, encasing the very soul of him. 

In an attempt to keep most of the dust out of his mouth, he’s pulled his cloth high up on his face. It hugs him just under the eyes, digging in and chafing him as sweat runs from his hairline in rivulets. Every part of him is dripping in sweat, the sun baking him through the layers of sun protection he has on.

This part he doesn’t mind so much. He stays hydrated, pumping cool, crisp water from the well just outside the station. The well is the only place the dust doesn’t reach, and he’s thankful, especially now as he paused to sip from a thermos, pulling the cloth off his face to take long draughts. 

In the distance, the Gods loom. They’re not really Gods, but he doesn’t know the name of the terracotta-colored mountains that stretch against the cobalt sky. They’ve watched him for as long as he’s been at Station 0218, so he feels like they’re the closest thing he’s ever had to protection of a higher power. 

Station 0218 exists in the middle of a flat desert, a few thousand yards away from the foot of a small range of mountains to the north at the edge of a dry basin. To the south, there’s nothing but packed clay, tall weeds and agave plants dotting the ground, and a tiny smear of shadow that he knows is a large limestone formation, cracked and crumbling as it bakes in the sun before washing out in the rainy season. 

It’s far past the rainy season now. The air hangs heavy and heated like the simmering air of an oven. He feels it when he breathes in, sees the shimmer of heat in the distance. Thirst satiated, he takes a moment to pant, wiping a sleeve over his sweating brow. 

There’s no fence to denote the proper perimeter of the Station, but Seokmin knows the property line even in the dark. He had to learn it, knowing that there are mines planted under the ground. While they’re only supposed to go off when triggered by a Dig Machine, they’re old and he’d rather not take his chances. 

For most of his small life on Station 0218, Seokmin’s days are wash, rinse, repeat. He does his scouting, he maintains the Station, he logs his day. He keeps himself alive. He kills machines when they enter his territory, which stretches in a perfect 20 mile radius. He still watches the land outside of that, sometimes catching machines traveling outside of their usual paths. 

Machines learn. It’s what makes them so dangerous, and is ultimately what had led to the Machine War. But machines, like humans, are creatures of habit. They know the shortest way to cross a barren wasteland. They move in the same syncopated patterns they always have. They are, at the end of the day, beholden to their settings, driven by an instinct they cannot always override. 

In a way, Seokmin feels like that. His life before being assigned to his post is blurry at best. They say it’s better to not remember and to reflect on all of the people you wouldn’t be able to see, that it’s better not to drift in your memories while you’re in solitude. 

So they take the memories, leaving only the training and instinct gained from preparing to be an Outrider and man his solitary post. 

This life is lonely. He tries not to think about it. Throws himself into his work. Scouts. Maintains. Logs. Kills. 

There is nothing else that he knows. 

━━▲━━

LOCATION… STATION 0218, POTENTIALLY TEXAS

DATE … FRIDAY, JUNE 29, 8099

WEATHER … CLEAR SKIES OVERNIGHT, 72 DEGREES FAHRENHEIT 

DAYS WITHOUT MACHINE ENCOUNTER … NINE

You say you like the wind blowing through your hair

Come on, roll with me 'til the sun goes down

The song plays throughout the station, backtracking the crackle of a hot pan. It smells like spiced chicken, oil popping. Seokmin hisses and snatches his hand back. Cursing softly, he lowers the heat on the stove, realizing it’s too high in an attempt to cook it faster.

The kitchen around him is small, but well put together. The metal cabinets are a bit dinged up and the fridge hums louder than it should, but everything works. Even the stove, which he had to rewire by hand a few months ago when it went out.

Scavenged parts and aging tech litter the counters of the living space just beyond. Faded schematics cover the walls alongside yellowing warning labels for the various tech inside the Station. A cracked touch screen interface blinks near the entrance, looping with various descriptions of the machines commonly found in this part of the world. 

Behind him, a ventilation fan clanks unevenly, blades ticking like a slow metronome. The overhead lights flicker as the general air conditioning kicks on and settles again, all while his favorite song backtracks the sounds of his everyday life. 

Seokmin hums along with the melody, swaying slightly as he flips his chicken. Cooking isn’t a daily ritual for him, but he likes to do it on Friday nights. Most nights, he settles for the nutrient meals the Alliance Against Machines provides. They’re efficient and protein rich, but they’re forgettable. 

So on Fridays he cooks a real meal to celebrate the weekend. 

It doesn’t matter that there’s no such thing as a weekend for Seokmin. He has nowhere to spend it. No one to spend it with. He doesn’t do less work because there’s always work to be done, and it doesn’t mean that he can ever drop his guard. 

The weekend is something he only has a vague concept of, but like this little ritual carved out of monotony: chopping vegetables, simmering sauces, using up fresh ingredients dropped by airship earlier that week. 

He cooks. He plays his favorite song, worn and warbling slightly through the old Station speakers. He pours a glass of wine. And he pretends, for just a little while, that he’s someone else. Somewhere else. 

And for a short while, the possibilities are endless. 

Say you wanna hit the highway while the engine roars

Well, come on, roll with me 'til the sun goes down

━━▲━━

LOCATION… STATION 0218, POTENTIALLY TEXAS

DATE … SATURDAY, JUNE 30, 8099

WEATHER … CLEAR SKIES, 105 DEGREES FAHRENHEIT  

DAYS WITHOUT MACHINE ENCOUNTER … ZERO

Alarms yank Seokmin from sleep. He’s already vertical and moving before he’s fully awake, body reacting on instinct. He’s halfway into his gear before he realizes it’s a machine warning. The overhead lights pulse red, strobing in the company room. It’s enough to give him a headache, the shrill and surgical blare of the alarm doubling the irritation. 

He buckles his weapons belt around his waist with practiced efficiency. The satisfying click of the holster lock centers him, grounding him more than the metal floor beneath his heavy boots. He grabs a rifle off of the wall, modded for heat signatures and pulse interferences that come from machines. It feels heavier than usual, but then again, he hasn’t had coffee yet.

He glances at the clock and curses. 0300. 

The screen in his bedroom flickers, blue text drifting across as a readout from the sensors scroll in. 

MACHINE DETECTED… 30.516143, -103.870341 … SKULKER … PLEDIS CORP… UNIT 095… 4 MPH NORTHBOUND

He grimaces. They’re not his favorite machine to eliminate. They’re built to blend in, to hide. Covered in chameleon plating, their panels are made with adaptive AI that uses sensors to replicate the scenery around them, making them near invisible. In the daylight, they’re difficult to see. At night, they’re near impossible. 

Seokmin will need to go into this blind with only heat maps to help him, but even that’s a challenge. PLEDIS CORP Skulker models made from the Unit 093 and up all have internal cooling systems to combat being detected on thermal scopes and readers, even with equipment far more advanced than what Seokmin has. 

Hunting them is difficult. The desert is vast, but not empty, and if he’s smart - patient - he’ll manage. Stealth is the name of the game. Though Skulkers don’t travel in packs, they’re one of the few scout machines that are designed to fight back, and he’s not exactly looking for a brawl with a heavy duty scout. 

Pulling on a lightweight mesh that will shield him against heat and a spray of light-ammo bullets, he thinks of a game plan. He pulls his tactical vest over the mesh, zips it up. Pulls a pair of clear glasses that flicker to life, red text appearing across the lenses as they calibrate. 

The glasses flicker and he curses. Of course. Skulkers emit low-frequency pulses that jam basic tech, and though his Station might be able to continue data pull and readouts, something as simple as his glasses won’t. He takes them off and throws them on the bed. He’s just going to have to do it without the help of the Station, which serves as his only companion in these fights, serving as a base and intelligence system. 

Stations are the closest that the New World will come to using AI ever again. 

Sighing, Seokmin goes for more analog tech. A homing beacon that uses radar instead of data reading sensors or internet signals, but will at least tell the Alliance where to look for his body if he dies - he doesn’t know if they’ll come get it - and glasses made for switching between night and thermal vision. 

He moves quickly now as the Station finishes the readout. The machine is ambling along, in no rush. Based on its movement, he thinks it’s scouting the perimeter of Seokmin’s sector, which most likely means the machine knows there’s a Station nearby. 

Seokmin will have to be extra careful. The last time he’d been caught unawares by a Skulker had nearly been his last, and the Alliance had needed to send extra medical supplies in his weekly drop from the passing airship. Not that they sent a doctor, of course. Isolation was Seokmin’s duty here. They’d just given him enough to fight off the infection and seal his wounds himself. 

Tonight, he’s not in armor to protect him, either. Wearing the heavy tech armor that is life-saving against Dig Machines or War Machines is detrimental against a scout. It’s too heavy and filled with too many sensors, essentially leaving him dead in the water to a machine built for scanning. 

Heading to the door, he powers down the Station to all but the reserve energy. He doesn’t need the hum of electricity serving as a beacon, and he doesn’t want any light giving him away. 

Outside, the world is velvet-black. The stars are scattered across the sky like shrapnel, the moon low behind the mountains, giving it a ghoulish halo. Shadows shift with each gust of wind, dust peppering Seokmin as he heads north.

If it were another machine, he’d used the speedbike. It would certainly get him there a lot faster. But Scout Machines are built to sense things at a far greater distance, and even though Seokmin has a scatterwave on to attempt to hide himself from the machine’s sensors, he’ll be more vulnerable tonight than he is with any other machine. 

Skulkers are designed for darkness. They wait, camouflaged against rock and plant life, listening and watching, gathering data to broadcast whatever they see, hear, and smell to whatever machine territories they belong to. 

During the war, they were scouts. Now, they serve more or less the same purpose, but there’s not exactly thriving machine territories to report back to anymore. After humanity had finally defeated most of the machines with a virus, there were very few pockets of machine society left. Most of them had fled to the west, forming small societal hives. Occasionally, they tried to re-enter human society, which is where Seokmin came in handy.

The desert night is a different kind of alive. Every one of Seokmin’s footsteps feels like a mine going off. The cold air cuts through his clothes, but it’s nice. The wind plays tricks on him, whispering through the agave plants and spinning up dust devils that look vaguely like human shapes. 

He moves at a steady, deliberate pace. After a while, he checks his watch. He’s about halfway to where the Skulker originally triggered the alarm system, so he crouches behind a dead scrub brush, lowering to a single knee to press the side of his glasses. They flicker to life and he sets them to thermal vision. 

A smear of colors appear before him, most of them various shades of blue and purple, indicating a lack of heat. Some plants are almost pink in nature, cool but retaining a little warmth from the long day in the sun. He spots a tiny flare of red in an underbrush - a desert mouse, nosing around. 

No immediate danger appears on the horizon. It doesn’t mean the Skulker isn’t out there. The thermal isn’t a foolproof system, especially if the machine knows an Outrider might be lurking around the night looking for it. 

So he gets up and starts walking again. Takes a sip from the small straw in his jacket that’s attached to the water pack lined in his vest. He keeps the thermal on, scanning the horizon back and forth, on alert. He thinks of the lyrics to his favorite song, missing the taste of the meal from last night and the sweet, cherry taste of the wine. 

The blots of red desert mice vanish at some point. Seokmin slows down his pace before dropping to his knees again, pressing the side of his glasses to expand his thermal reach. There’s no chirping bats, no singing crickets, not even the howl of wind here.

Heavy silence sits on him. 

Slowly, he scans back and forth. Then, just for a second, the terrain stutters. A barely perceptible shimmer of pink to purple appears several hundred yards away near the rim of the salt basin. It looks like a tear in reality trying to sew itself shut, there and gone again. Black. 

Seokmin marks the spot on his wrist pad. Swipes his fingers across it to zoom out and look at the overall map, despite the fact that he knows exactly where he is. He taps his knee and then pulls a pulse beacon from his vest. It’s tiny, barely larger than a marble, and he drops it into the brush before getting up and turning to the west, where he knows there’s a rocky outcrop he can climb.

He heads there swiftly, keeping his steps light, leaving the pulse beacon behind. His breath is coming in short and labored by the time he gets to the outcrop and starts climbing, eager to get in position and ready before the Skulker vanishes into the dry, cracked mud of the salt basin. 

A scorpion crunches under his boot as he finds a narrow outlet to crawl in. He grimaces. Feels guilty. He doesn’t like them, but he feels a sort of kinship with them, alone in the desert. Survivors. 

“Sorry,” he whispers, then slides down to the ground to lay on his belly. 

It takes some maneuvering, but he manages to lay himself flat. He braces his rifle on the edge of the outcrop and takes off his glasses to peer through the scope. 

The desert stretches before him like a graveyard. Silent. Still. Cold. 

Carefully, he taps his wrist pad to remote turn on the pulse beacon. For a second, nothing happens. He clenches his teeth, knowing that the signal to the device is struggling to go through. He does it again, finger tapping the side of his rifle. 

This time, it works. A green dot flashes on his wrist pad before he turns it to dark mode and turns on his scatterwave to hide any remaining frequency and signals from the tech on his person. 

Licking his lips, Seokmin levels his eye with the scope again, watching. At first, there’s nothing. Then, he sees movement. The pulse beacon has done its job. It’s not exactly bait, but the low frequency it emits is similar to the same tech humans used in the war. The Skulker, out of pure instinct, won’t be able to resist investigating. 

Seokmin watches, waiting for the movement again. For a while, there’s nothing. He chews the inside of his cheek. Feels dust bite at him as wind crests over the outcrop. A ripple catches his attention, not where he marked it last. It’s closer now, moving away from the basin toward where he left the beacon. 

Without the moon, Seokmin is in a blanket of midnight. All he can see are the blue shapes of plants and the occasional shiver of pink as it reforms, twisting faintly in the dark before it vanishes again. 

A thermal outline appears again. This time, lighting up red as a desert mouse catches the Skulker off guard, making it flare into a quadrupedal silhouette with a lean body that stands roughly two meters off the ground. He can’t make out all of the features of the machine, but he knows them by memory: elongated legs, an angular head with a sharp muzzle, glowing eyes that swap between spectrums, dangerous claws that can shred through limbs. 

The shape vanishes and Seokmin holds his breath. He slides his finger to the trigger, sliding his thumb across the safety. He feels the weight of the weapon in his hand, the coolness of the rock beneath his stomach. He inhales. Holds it. Lets it out. Inhales. Holds it. Lets it out.

A ripple appears as the Skulker crawls on its belly toward the beacon and Seokmin lines the shot before the glimmer vanishes again. He inhales again. Holds it. And squeezes the trigger. 

The crack of the rifle splits the night. The Skulker jerks violently as the bullet tears through one of its front stabilizers. Red and yellow explode in the scope as sparks fly off the machine. It’s not hiding now, colors violently glimmering. Seokmin doesn’t panic, flipping the scope to night vision. 

Bursts of heat and red are replaced with flat green. He can see the machine now, writhing as it lets out a scream - not a sound exactly, but something like a spike in air pressure, a raw pulse that explodes outward like a sonic wave. 

Dust blows in Seokmin’s face but he doesn’t flinch, letting it burn his eyes. The Skulker doesn’t need to use thermals to find Seokmin. It’ll know where the bullet came from and it charges, fast and erratic right at the outcrop where Seokmin hides.

He doesn’t panic. He tracks the machine through the scope, even as it zigzags, moving in wide, jerking arches that might fool a worse marksman. 

He exhales and fires again. The second shot hits center mass, cracking the machine’s chestplate. It falters, but doesn’t fall. Instead, it speeds up, closing the distance fast enough that Seomkin hears it now, all grinding machine and metal screeching against metal. 

It nears the outcrop. Seokmin reloads. Aims. Fires. 

The machine drops. He watches it through the scope, watching as the lights go out, the gears stop working, and the wires stop sparking. He doesn’t move for a long time. Machines don’t typically play dead, but he doesn’t like Skulkers. 

Eventually, he lowers his rifle and yawns. Wind howls around him and he gets up from his spot, muscles spasming, joints cracking. Slinging the strap of his gun over his shoulder, he makes his way down, hopping and landing carefully. 

He finally lands with a thud next to the Skulker. He toes the machine, squinting in the dark night as he looks at the bullet holes. They had torn through the metal, but he’s surprised to see just how thick the metal is. That unsettles him. He doesn’t recall this unit having reinforced metal but… well. He hasn’t come across one in a while, and he’s tired.

Instead of worrying about it, he leaves the machine there, turning to head home. He’ll go get it later when it isn’t dead in the middle of the night, and after he’s had a well-deserved cup of coffee. 

━━▲━━

LOCATION… STATION 0218, POTENTIALLY TEXAS

DATE … TUESDAY, JULY 2, 8099

WEATHER … PARTLY CLOUDY SKIES, 115 DEGREES FAHRENHEIT 

DAYS WITHOUT MACHINE ENCOUNTER … THREE

An endless sky stretches over Station 0218. It’s hot and bone-dry. Tufts of clouds drift in the distance, curling the Gods' heads like frothy halos. It’s just past dusk, a bruised sky yawning overhead. The sun has vanished beyond the rim of the world, the last few streams of gold light fading rapidly. Wind stirs up dust around his boots, but he doesn’t give it a lot of mind. 

The work bench outside the Station is half-shadowed under a metal canopy. He’d welded it together from the metal plates of a Dig Machine he’d eliminated a few years ago. On top of that are solar panels that he has to dust off constantly, trying to keep them in tip-top shape to power the Station..

The bench itself is scorched and dark with old burns, gouges, and acid stains. He’s not a mechanic by trade, but over the last few years, he’s managed to figure a few things out - and keep all his fingers. It’s a reliable work space. Solid. Like everything else he manages to keep running. 

Now, he works on stripping parts of the Skulker. He removed the armored panels from the main body, which he had dragged with the armored truck there the morning after he’d eliminated it. Now, the carcass is nothing but twisted metal and a vague shape as he disassembles it for whatever he can use. 

He’s managed to start separating the fine mesh-metals that cover the panels of the Skulkers body. He doesn’t know if he can use it to sew into his own gear to imitate the camouflaging of the machine, but he intends to try. The metal is a strange material, almost biological in nature with butterfly-wing texture. 

The skull of the machine sits on the top of the work bench. The sharp angels of the snout catch the hanging lights outside the station. One side is blown open, the optics shattered and fused, but the other lens is intact. He leans in close, working a flat tool between the housing and the mountain plate, brow furrowed in concentration. 

It pops free with a soft click and he grins, placing the eye in the tray of salvageable parts he’s got going. He can wire the eyes of machines like cameras around the entire sector, setting them up so they run extra information for him. Scout Machine eyes are particularly useful, and he’s glad to have one eye if not both. 

Seokmin pulls off his gloves and flexes his fingers. They’re sore and callused, a few knuckles raw from where he’d scraped them earlier when trying to pry the mesh-metal off the armor plates.

It’s quiet in the desert now. No new alerts coming in, no scream of metal. No machines prowling. Nothing but the buzz of wind and the occasional hawk as it dives to catch one of the various prizes the desert floor has to offer. 

He wipes the sweat from his temple with the back of his wrist then picks up the disassembled parts. He stands, propping the tray against his hip as he swings his leg over the bench and heads inside. Crickets choir as he walks up the step, kicking his boots against them to knock as much dust off as he can before he ducks inside. 

Cool air kisses his sweaty skin. He dumps the tray on the kitchen table and sits down, melting into the chair. He’s tired, but he wants to sift through the tray of parts before he finally gives up and scrubs the sweat and dust off his skin. 

Heaving a sigh, he starts to sort through the parts. He turns on his favorite song, the guitar strums humming through his speaker, turning to deep vibrations when the drums and base set in. 

You say you like the wind blowing through your hair

Come on, roll with me 'til the sun goes down

Texas sun

He starts sorting. Optics and sensors to the left, cooling coals to the right, screws and bolts that he can add to his collection for around the station in their own pile. He comes across a joint mount, thumb-sized and not out of place except - when he grabs it, it’s light. Lighter than most pieces that exist in the joints of machinery. 

Licking his lips, Seokmin turns it over a few times in his hands. There’s nothing off about it… no, there is. He brushes his thumb across something and squints, holding it closer to the light burning above his head. There are tiny marks on it, imperceptible lines where it’s been welded, like it’s been refitted with different metal. 

He sets it down. Stares at it. Grabs a tablet and pulls up his schematics logs of every machine ever built in the span of hundreds of years. He taps in the maker and the unit number, a hologram appearing above the tablet screen of a circling replica of the PLEDIS CORP Skulker. 

Chewing on his lip, he taps the parts section and narrows it down to all of the parts, items and exact details that make up the moving joints of the Skulker. Each part has the type of metal listed, the exact weight of it, the way it was built, the supplier - everything he needs to know and more. 

It confirms his suspicion that no part of a joint mount is welded, crafted by a factory machine in one, single metal piece. He leans back in his chair and thinks about it. It’s entirely possible that the Skulker is a veteran of the Machine War, one of the many machines serviced for being damaged in the fight. He doesn’t find that often, though, especially outside of the War Machines. 

Still, it’s the most probable answer. He can’t figure out another reason for a makeshift piece - like someone had fixed this - could exist. 

He suddenly remembers the armor of the Skulker, the way the metal was far thicker than he anticipated. On a hunch, he picks up his tablet and walks back outside. 

The sun is long gone now, leaving behind a midnight blue sky. The neon blue glow of the bug zapper casts an eerie light on him as he passes, walking down to the yard where the pile of metal sits until he can melt down what he can’t keep. 

Big plates of metal that served as the main body remain there, too heavy for him to lift over to the table, but perfect for being melted down for him to remake into something later. He squats, holding the schematic up and looking at the material used for the PLEDIS CORP Skulker. 

VANTACORE ALLOY. MATTE-BLACK. NONREFLECTIVE. 14.4 KG.

Seomkin looks at the plate again. It’s definitely not 14.4 kg. He could lift that easily. He puts the tablet down and slides his hands under the disassembled plate again. He sucks in a breath, and tries to lift it, heaving upward with the strength of his legs, arms rippling. 

He’s not weak by any means. Beyond needing to keep a healthy lifestyle to fight machines, Seokmin has nothing else to do but workout and continue to build his strength. So when he tries to lift the metal plating and fails again, falling on his ass with a huff, he knows there’s no way it only weighs a couple of kilos. 

Scrolling on his tablet, he opens a scanner. Taps the screen. A small light appears as the device scans the metal, doing a reading on color, size, texture and thickness. A proposed list of metals appears in order of most to least likely. Sitting at the top is one he recognizes: Obelium. 

OBELIUM. MATTE-SILVER. NONREFLECTIVE. 8.2 G/CM3 DENSITY. USED BY PLEDIS CORP AND HYBE CORP FOR…

The list of machines stretches on. It’s a list of Dig Machines and War Machines, but as he scrolls, not a single unit of Skulker is on the list. Which confirms his suspicion that this Skulker was modded. If his calculations are correct, the piece of armor plating he tried to lift isn’t 14.4 kg - it’s 88.8 kg. 

Strange. He’s never come across a modded scout from the war before. He supposes there’s a first time for everything, but his gaze lingers on the machine when he finally gets up to dust himself off, needing to log it. 

When he finishes his logs and decides it’s finally time to shower, it occurs to him how close to death he was the other night, assuming it had been a simple Scout Machine. 

━━▲━━

LOCATION… STATION 0218, POTENTIALLY TEXAS

DATE … SATURDAY, JULY 13, 8099

WEATHER … CLEAR SKIES, 118 DEGREES FAHRENHEIT  

DAYS WITHOUT MACHINE ENCOUNTER … FIFTEEN

The lights hum. Not loud, but just enough to make Seokmin aware of the silence beneath them. He stares at the bowl on the table. It’s rehydrated protein stew, thick and gray and flavorless. He wishes it was Friday and that he was making something he likes to eat, something with flavor. 

He wonders if he’s ever had dinner with someone before. If he enjoyed it. If he liked the way it tasted. Did he cook or had they? Has he ever sat across the table from someone? Laughed with them as chairs dragged across the floor or hit elbows while cutting into a meal? 

He doesn’t know. 

Sometimes, he imagines it. Pretends to hear a voice, something warm and teasing. Maybe they used to call him Min. Maybe they touched his wrist as they passed by, or said things like slow down or save me some. 

Seokmin has no idea if anyone has ever told him that. Or maybe no one has. Would he feel like someone had, if they had? Would he remember the feeling of it, if not the specific memory?

The Alliance Against Machines mandates that memories are irrelevant to an Outrider position, which means Seokmin doesn't even remember why he wanted to become one, or what inspired him. Memories make positions like this inconsistent. Dangerous. They make you miss too much of what you can’t have. 

But he seems to do that anyways - want what he can’t have. He wants what he can’t remember, wants it with a viciousness that sometimes feels so feral he doesn’t know what to do. 

He drops the spoon and it clatters too loud in a room too small, too empty. He presses the heels of his palms into his eyes, breath shaking. He doesn’t cry, because the dust has dried his eyes too much and crying feels like it needs a witness.

Seokmin has no witnesses. 

Just the humming lights. The silence. The blank nothing of something he can’t remember, but wants all the same. Just the same song he listens to, trying to find a gap in the ache of being alone.

When I'm far from home and them cold winds blow

Stuck out somewhere with folks I don't know

━━▲━━

LOCATION… STATION 0218, POTENTIALLY TEXAS

DATE … SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 13, 8099

WEATHER … CLEAR SKIES, 120 DEGREES FAHRENHEIT, HEATWAVE WARNING

DAYS WITHOUT MACHINE ENCOUNTER … TWO

The sun is merciless. Every part of Seokmin bakes under it. Sweat pools at his brow, singing his eyes. He is soaked through with sweat, finally peeling off the shirt to reveal tawn, muscled skin. There’s no breeze today, just dead air baking the sandblasted yard of the Station, rippling heatwaves rising off the ground in varied distortions. 

He’s been out here too long. 

The casing he’s working on slips from his fingers again, clattering across the workbench. 

“Shit,” he mutters, voice horse. 

He blinks hard, trying to steady his hands, but they won’t stop trembling. His gloves feel too tight and his skin feels wrong. He stands, swaying slightly as he wipes at his forehead again, smearing grease with sweat. 

Turning to reach for a towel to wipe his face, Seokmin freezes. A couple hundred yards away, there's a figure. Blurred. Far off. But human. He stiffens, eyes narrowing, heart pounding. He rubs his face with the towel, putting pressure on his eyes before he drops it and opens them again, blinking.

Someone is out there, walking slowly across the simmering white, arms at their sides. They’re walking right toward him, not fast, but casual. Like they know where they’re going. 

Seokmin’s breath catches in his throat. He doesn’t call out. Doesn’t know what to do. He can’t remember what talking to someone is like, what seeing someone is like. His heart begins to pound in a way that makes his rib ache. 

He takes a step forward and the figure flickers. He freezes, staring long and hard. The legs blur first, then the entire body seems to stretch, rippling with the heat. One moment they’re upright, the next, they fold in on themself and vanish like they were never there.

Gone. 

He doesn’t know how long he stands there. He feels the dizziness of the heat, the rivulets of sweat. He sways, feeling the way his skin goes from warm, to hot, to scorching. And yet he stands, frozen. Waiting. 

There’s nothing there, though. Just an endless wash of pale dust and scorched rock. 

Finally, he turns. Steps inside the Station, looking out the window as he cools down. His ears are ringing and he feels the tunnel vision come, like he might pass out. He stumbles to the fridge to get water, yanking out a bottle and cracking the top, all but dumping it down his throat as he gulps.

Then, for the first time in a long time, he cries.

That night when he goes to bed, he keeps the porch light on. 

Just in case.

━━▲━━

LOCATION… STATION 0218, POTENTIALLY TEXAS

DATE … MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 15, 8099

WEATHER … CLOUDY SKIES, 95 DEGREES FAHRENHEIT 

DAYS WITHOUT MACHINE ENCOUNTER … THREE

The sun is lower today, washed in a pale orange haze that settles over the Station like dust. It’s been cloudy, shifting between pale grey to splashes of tangerine. The wind has returned again, blowing clouds fast across the sky and pulling at the tarp that Seomkin had put over grain barrels to keep the heat off. 

A cloud crosses over the sun and turns the world grey. He squints and waits for his eyes to adjust as he bends down. The ground here is flat and dry, baked hard. He sets down a bottle of water. A protein bar. A packet of dried fruit. Nothing more. 

He doesn’t think too hard about it. Just stands, brushing his hand off of his pants. His shadow stretches long across the sand behind him. He looks at the display a beat longer than he means to before he glances at the mountains - his Gods - and turns to walk back toward the Station. 

That night he eats in silence. It weighs heavier than it usually does, and like a bad habit, his eyes keep flickering to the window that looks out to the dark flat where he left the rations. Just in case. 

In the morning, he heads out. Sees the materials untouched and covered in dust. He brushes them off. Stands and heads back. 

Leaving them there again. Just in case. 

━━▲━━

LOCATION… STATION 0218, POTENTIALLY TEXAS

DATE … MONDAY, NOVEMBER 4, 8099

WEATHER … CLEAR SKIES, 65 DEGREES FAHRENHEIT 

DAYS WITHOUT MACHINE ENCOUNTER … ELEVEN

Seokmin bolts upright, heart pounding and hand reaching to rip his blankets off as the alarm cuts through the silence. The room flashes red, making him dizzy as he slides to his feet and stumbles toward his pants. The emergency lights stutter against the walls like a warning heartbeat. 

The screen on the wall flares to life. It makes him flinch, shielding his eyes with his hand until he can bear the added light. A feed of readout data scrolls on the bottom of the screen and a camera visual pops up from the perimeter. It’s coming from the eye that he had ripped out of the Skulker a few months ago and put it near the basin where it had been wandering. 

He scans the data feed first, reading as the words appear. 

MACHINE DETECTED… 30.516143, -103.870341 … RAVAGER … PLEDIS CORP… UNIT 156… 25 MPH SOUTHBOUND… ADDITIONAL UNIT… BLOODWOLF… HYBE CORP… UNIT 234… 20 MPH… ANOMALY DETECTED… BLOODWOLF PURSUING RAVAGER… 

He frowns. He’s never seen anomaly detected. Stranger, though, is the fact that he’s never heard of one War Machine pursuing another. Machines do not attack one another. At least, not since the start of the Machine War. Prior to that, War Machines had been used against one another in battlefields and conflicts between countries, but a Bloodwolf chasing a Ravager? 

Bloodwolf units were deployed right before the machines turned against humanity. They were also the hardest to get rid of, savage hunter-killers designed for hunting down their prey and engaging brutally. They were meant to hunt enemies of other countries and then meant to hunt humans. 

Ravagers were also violent machines, demolition tanks to tear down front lines and break any obstacle. He’d never faced a Ravager before and always hoped he wouldn’t - there’s a strange beauty about them that he loathes to put down, and a deep-rooted fear that he won’t live to do so. 

Chewing his lip, he squints at the grainy feed as the shapes move closer. They blur in the darkness, the lens tracking their movements as they approach. The Bloodwolf is fast, four-legged, sleek and low like a predator on the hunt. The Ravager is swift but massive, lumbering with effort, trying to accommodate for something…

Seokmin blinks. Rubs his eyes. Watches as the Ravager runs past the camera. He immediately lifts his hand to press a button on the screen, opening the feed and rewinding it. Slows it down. The Ravager had been running fast, the Bloodwolf on its tail, but it had been running like it was afraid to sprint full out like it was afraid… someone might fall off.

Because there is someone on the back of the Ravager, bent low between its massive shoulders. A small figure - a human. For a few long moments, all Seokmin can do is pant. His breath comes out short, gasping. He stares and stares and stares, unmoving as he stares at the frozen screen. 

This is different from the person he imagined all those weeks ago when the heat got to him. This isn’t a mirage. This isn’t a trick of the lonely mind and aching heart. This is real. On the screen. Evidence in front of him that somewhere out there is another person. 

Seokmin lets out a curse and starts tossing clothes around his room as he looks for the suit he wears under his heavy armor. He almost never needs it and suddenly his hands are shaking so bad he can barely find it in the flashing red lights of his bedroom. 

He finally does, yanking the thin material over his skin. It glides, buttery soft but sweat resistant and made to keep him cool and safe from chafing under the hard plates of armor he wears against War Machines.

His fingers tremble as he flips the lock on the trunk he never opens - hasn’t needed to. The armor waits inside, silent. Matte black. Heavy-plated. Laced with segmented joints of high-density lightweave, flexible underlayer, and bullet-slowing surface tension. The surface is layered with a thin plating of Obelium and the inside is padded with shock absorbent material to keep him from cracking open like an egg on impact. 

It’s a suit, in a way. All of the armor pieces lock together, their mechanisms whirring and clicking as he puts them on piece by piece. The chest plate hums as it fully seals, the arm bracers hissing as they click and lock into place, flexible at the elbows, wrists, shoulders.

The helmet clamps onto the collar ring with a soft sound, and the HUG flickers to life, scanning his vitals, connecting to the Station, gearing up for his fight. Readouts scroll like ghosts across the inside of the visor, telling him the Bloodwolf and Ravager have now engaged.

He can feel it. He swears there’s a tremble in the earth as he grabs his weapons and extra charges. His suit is outfitted with minor artillery, but he has to open up the locker for this one, gleaming rifles and assault weapons, both with metal and energy artillery rounds. 

Seokmin is silent now. His thoughts don’t scatter to the wind. He only has a single thing in mind, and it’s getting to that person, getting to whoever was on the back of that Ravager. This is what he was made for - bred for, perhaps, he’s not sure. 

With the heavy guns in hand and fully suited, he steps outside. 

The wind is howling. It kicks up dust that he hears scraping against the armor, but it doesn’t bother him, for once. The moon slices the sky above like a silver wound, sand shifting under his feet as a signal beeps in his HUD display. Artillery fire. 

Seomkin runs. 

He doesn’t know how long he has. Doesn’t know if he’s fast enough. The suit gets him there faster, upping his power and speed beyond what he would be physically capable otherwise. It’s why they’re made for heavy machine battle only, invented in a time where humans had to fight machines up close and personal.

He’s never used one to fight. Never needed to. He remembers using them in training, in simulators - part of the training that he’s allowed to remember - but he’s never had to go toe to toe with something bred to kill him as brutally as a Ravager or a Bloodwolf.

And now he’s running full speed into the fray, the sounds of metal scream, explosive sparks peppering the sky like fireworks, all because of the chance there is a person out there. 

Nothing else matters to him but getting there. Seeing someone else. Knowing he isn’t alone. 

Sand kicks skyward in a blinding storm as Seokmin reaches the fray. The Ravager crashes sideways into the Bloodwolf, metal shrieking against metal. Sparks bloom, lighting up the entire basin. Seokmin hits the edge of the fight just as the Ravager slams into the Bloodwolf again, sending it airborne. 

He watches as the wolf-machine twists midair as it lands, claws rending the sand for traction. It lunges forward, opening its jaw unnaturally, barring rows and rows of teeth. The Ravager roars, a low grinding sound that vibrates through Seokmin’s armor. 

The Ravager shifts to intercept the Bloodwolf as it comes down. The shift reveals you and Seomkin’s heart thunders. You’re small, knocked to your ass on the sand. You roll away from the machines as they clash, the Bloodwolf hitting the Ravager with enough force that Seomkin hears and feels the crack in one of the armor plates. 

You start to get to your feet, slipping in dust and sand to put distance between yourself and the machine. Seokmin raises a weapon, his HUD connecting with the scope of the automatic rifle when he pauses, blinking unbelieving eyes as he watches the Bloodwolf leap for you.

He starts to shout a warning but the Ravager is there, blocking the blow. It takes one of the Bloodwolf’s taloned paws to the face, sparks and metal flying. The Ravager screams, shaking its head violently back and forth as it’s rendered blind in one eye. 

Shrapnel flies from the damaged machine. He hears you yell out in distress and stagger before falling to a knee. Blood soaks your side and you’re struggling to keep behind the Ravager’s bulk, letting the machine shield you. 

Move. 

Seokmin launches forward, sprinting at a full tilt. The HUD in his helmet paints live readouts across his vision, a swirl of machine signatures, structural analysis, and environmental factors. The Bloodwolf shows up red on his screen, agile, lethal, set to kill mode. The Ravager pings orange, engaged but defensive and critically damaged. You flash blue, entirely human and purple in spots where you bleed. 

He dives to a knee as the machines collide and roll away from you, the Ravager on top. It savagely attacks the Bloodwolf, swiping claws against metal, sinking its saber teeth into the shoulder of the other War Machine. 

Lifting the gun, Seomkin hesitates. He doesn’t know where to shoot, suddenly. Both of the machines are dangerous and to be killed with impunity… and yet he sees you on your knees, screaming something at the Ravager like it can hear you. Understand you. 

He aims his weapon at the Bloodwolf and squeezes the trigger, firing bursts of heavy artillery at it. He feels the vibration of the gun’s kick against his shoulder, feels the heat from the muzzle, watches as both machines startle. The Bloodwolf lets out a sonic shriek, knocking Seokmin backward. 

Rolling to recover, he curses when he sees his attack left both machines startled, distracting the Ravager, losing its advantage as the machines untangle. The Bloodwolf skirts backward, zeroing in on Seokmin as he rises to his feet, aiming. A ripple goes through the Bloodwolf and Seomkin’s HUD calls out that it’s engaged in a projectile shield. 

“Fuck,” he kisses. 

You’re on your feet again, but your back is to the machines. You look right at him, chest heaving, bloody and so entirely human that it nearly takes Seokmin right out of the fight from the shock of it. The Bloodwolf notices and goes for you again, but the Ravager lurches forward.

As though the Bloodwolf had expected the defensive mode, it pivots at the last second and sinks its teeth into the neck of the Ravager. The machine screams, metal grinding on metal. You hear the sound and turn, a look of acute horror coming to your face as you scream. Seokmin hears it and his blood turns to ice. 

You’re upset for the machine. 

He doesn’t have time to think about it. He runs for you as the Ravager screeches, limbs flailing and kicking as the Bloodwolf’s lockjaw engages, crushing through heavy plating and machinery in the Ravager’s neck. Warning signals light up along the machine’s body as it goes into failure, its savage attacker ripping at the rest of it with its claws, tearing it to pieces. 

You’re screaming when Seokmin reaches you, barely aware of him as he skids next to you. He realizes there’s a gun in your hand, his HUD picking it up with a readout: PLEDIS CORP… STANDARD ISSUE VOLT… CORE BATTERY DEAD…

“Come on,” Seokmin urges, voice shaking. He can hear his breath, feel the adrenaline making him shake. “Come with me.”

“I’m not leaving her,” You growl, voices savage, eyes wild and wide. Your voice is broken, not what he expected. “Zahra!” 

The Bloodwolf gives a hard jerk and twists the Ravager’s neck. There’s a loud crunch and the HUD in Seokmin’s helmet flashes as the Ravagers system flashes before shutting off, the machine going cold, nothing but metal and sparks. 

“Zahra!” Your scream this time is broken. A cry. A plea. 

The Bloodwolf lets go and twists its head toward you. The Ravager - Zahra, a named machine - doesn’t move. Steam hisses from its ruined chassis, and a guttural grinding noise follows as something inside of it whirs all wrong until it stops, leaving only sparks and twisted metal. 

It’s gone.

And then the Bloodwolf is climbing over the wreckage. You’re nearly doubled over in agony, hands wrapped around your middle as you let out a scream that Seokmin thinks will haunt every one of his dreams for the rest of his life. 

There are bigger problems, though, like the eyes blazing like twin suns that have settled on you. Seokmin lifts the gun, swapping from traditional artillery to energy, like the gun you had been using. The weapon hums as it charges, and he commands his HUD to fully charge the weapon - it means he’ll have a single shot. 

“Get down,” he barks at you. He doesn’t mean to be harsh. You don’t seem to care, ducking behind him and covering your head. 

The Bloodwolf lunges just as the weapon in Seokmin’s hand reaches full charge. He aims and pulls the trigger, feeling the intense kick of the gun and the heat as the world turns blue from the pulse of energy that cracks through the open sky between him and the Bloodwolf. 

A burst of blue detonates against the machine’s armor. Sparks, fire and something thick and black sprays out with it. He thinks it’s fluid or oil - maybe both. The force of the impact knocks the Bloodwolf backward and it crashes to the ground hard, rolling in a shriek of metal. 

It’s down, and somehow not dead. 

Warning lights flash across Seokmin’s HUD as the Bloodwolf’s stabilizers engage, grinding into the dirt to force the shattered frame upright. Its energy core is flickering but alive, pumping heat and power through ruptured conduits. It’s running on fumes and rage, clinging to its last command to eliminate. 

Fucking Bloodwolfs.

Seokmin doesn’t wait. He slaps the mag release, the spent cartridge ejecting with a hiss. His hand finds another on his belt and jams it in, resetting the rifle with a practiced snap. 

“Full charge,” he orders, voice clipped. 

It flashes red. 

FAILURE. CHARGE TO 60 PERCENT.

He grits his teeth. “Fine. Charge to sixty.” 

The weapon hums in response, power surging through the coil. In front of him, the Bloodwolf lurches forward, broken and staggering but still on the hunt. 

A greenlight flashes for the full charge and Seokmin fires, a steady stream of energy rounds tearing through the night. Blue-white flashes slice into the Bloodwolf’s exposed internals. Seokmin’s HUD tags each weakness and he shoots for it with deadly precision. 

With a final warbled howl, the Bloodwolf collapses onto its haunches. It stutters, kicking in death throws as Seokmin goes through a full round of energy again. He doesn’t hesitate for a second, popping the mag and replacing it, charging the weapon again. 

Fires. 

The HUD flashes. 

CORE FAILURE. STRUCTURAL COLLAPSE.

The War Machine shudders, a final convulsion racing down its frame. Smoke vomits from its shattered maw, limbs jerky. Then nothing. Just the hiss of burning fuel and the slow drip drip drip of hydraulic fluid onto scorched earth. 

Seokmin eases his finger off the trigger, lowering the rifle slowly. Only then does he realize his hands are shaking. And then he remembers you’re there, standing behind him.

Slowly, he turns to look at you. You’re crusted in blood and dust, hands trembling at your sides. You’re still staring at the lifeless Ravager, the machine you called Zahra. Silent. Tearstained. But you’re alive, which means for the first time since he can remember, Seokmin isn’t alone. 

The weight of it nearly drops him to his knees. 

“Are you okay?” He manages to ask. The words scrape his throat raw, feeling foreign and unused. 

You don’t answer. You just keep looking at the Ravager, and he sees it in your eyes. Grief. A grief that he’s carried for years, somehow, grief that he didn’t know until this moment he felt. The grief of realizing you’re utterly alone and that you always will be, that no one else will ever be with you again. 

And then you crumble, standing one second, gone the next. He barely catches you before you hit the ground, spent and unmoving. 

━━▲━━

LOCATION… STATION 0218, POTENTIALLY TEXAS

DATE … MONDAY, NOVEMBER 4, 8099

WEATHER … CLEAR SKIES, 65 DEGREES FAHRENHEIT 

DAYS WITHOUT MACHINE ENCOUNTER … ZERO

The power flickers in the Station as Seokmin sets the med scanner over your chest. Bruised ribs. A fractured arm. Signs of energy weapon burns along your shoulder. He works in silence, moving efficiently as he dresses wounds and resets the fractures.

His touch is hesitant. He doesn’t want to do too much, doesn’t want to violate your space. He doesn’t know how this is supposed to work or how he is allowed to fix you, just that he feels like he’s supposed to. He’s a trained medic, mending is part of his instincts. 

You don’t speak. Don’t even flinch, eyes fluttering in a fever dream from the pain medication dripping through the IV. 

If he’s honest with himself, he is afraid you’ll vanish, that he’ll wake up and this will all have been some strange dream, that this won’t be real. 

“Zahra,” you mutter.

He freezes for a beat. Looks down at your face, expression slack in fevered sleep. He doesn’t know why you keep calling out for the War Machine, but the way it leaves your lips makes him think you had some sort of relationship with it. That it was important to you.

He thinks back to how the machine protected you - sacrificed itself from you. 

And he doesn’t understand. 

━━▲━━

LOCATION… STATION 0218, POTENTIALLY TEXAS

DATE … WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 6, 8099

WEATHER … CLOUDY SKIES, 50 DEGREES FAHRENHEIT 

DAYS WITHOUT MACHINE ENCOUNTER … TWO

Seokmin hears the sound of the blanket before he sees you move. For a second, he thinks it’s nothing, just the wind outside or the walls of the Station creaking like they sometimes do. But then it happens again, followed by a gasp of pain. 

He whirls around, heart hammering. You’re trying to sit up and he freezes. He doesn’t know what to do, hands half-curled, hovering like he’s forgotten the steps of being a person. And well… he has. He doesn’t know how to do this - wasn’t meant to. 

And then he realizes you’re watching him. 

“You’re awake?” It comes out like a question, his voice rough and too dry.

You don’t answer. You just blink at him with wide, wary eyes. He’s not prepared for whatever this is. He knows blood and metal. Machine signatures and isolation. Not idle conversation and people.

“You’ve been out for a few days,” he says slowly, like he’s remembering how to shape the words. “I’ve been - um. Giving you fluids. You were hurt so I tried to help. Obviously didn’t get to all of it, didn’t want to like… trespass.” 

Silence. You look around the room, trying to make sense of your surroundings. He watches you track the ceiling fan, the water canister, the half-mended patch on the wall. You frown.

“This is my Station. Station 0218.” Your eyes drift back to him and he clears his throat, clarifying, “I’m an Outrider. I eliminate machines that cross back over the Edge.” 

Still nothing. Your mouth parts like you’re going to say something or ask a question, but the words don’t come. You lean back instead, slow and cautious. Your eyes never leave him, like you’re not sure if you’re really safe. That makes his heart pang, but he understands.

He wants to say more, wants to ask who you are. To tell you that he’s never met another person before. But it’s too much all at once and he doesn’t know where to start, so instead, he stays silent. Sits down on a chair far away from you, knee bouncing, fingers playing with that same loose thread on his shirt. 

The conversation starts with a question so soft, he swears he imagines it. 

“What’s your name?” 

He glances up at you. You’re propped on a folded arm, eyes watching him. Your blanket is pulled tight, like you’re cold. He reaches up to adjust the temperature in the room, trying to keep you comfortable. 

“Seokmin.” 

You nod slowly. “Just Seokmin?”

“Just Seokmin’s enough, I guess.”

You go quiet again. He doesn’t mind. He’s used to the silence. It’s the talking that challenges him, the putting together what he’s supposed to do and say. 

“Where are we?” Your voice stirs the air, turns it to static.

“Umm, Station 0218.”

“But where is that?”

“I’m not really sure. I always thought it might be Texas.” Something flashes across your face but it happens so fast he thinks he imagined it. You nod your head, staring up at the ceiling. “What about you? What were you doing out there alone?”

“I wasn’t alone. I had Zahra.”

“The Ravager?”

“The Ravager has - had - a name.”

“You named it?”

Your eyes snap down to his, licking with fire and irritation. “Zahra already had a name. She’s not - wasn’t - a thing. She was sentient, and intelligent, and alive in the ways that counted. She was trying to get me somewhere safe and she died for it. For me.”

Your voice cracks hard and you bite your lip, looking away from him as tears pool in your eyes. Seokmin’s mouth opens but no words come out. He doesn’t know what to say to any of that. None of this makes sense to him, machines with names, machines that think, machines that are alive.

Well, since the Machine War, at least. 

“That was a War Machine,” he says slowly, trying not to anger you. “I’ve spent years killing machines that come through here, a threat to the rest of the world. War machines are meant to kill people. That is their entire purpose.”

“Well don’t you know everything? Not all machines are like that.”

“There’s no like that or not like that. Machines are programmed-”

“Machines are more than programming, Outrider. They’re not just circuits and metal. How do you think the War started in the first place? They can think for themselves and make choices. That's why they rebelled.”

Rebelled? 

Seokmin starts to think that maybe you had hit your head. He frowns at you, trying to puzzle out your words. If you hit your head hard enough to start spouting nonsense, he might have to try and contact the Alliance to get you real medical help, the kind that he can’t give you.

He doesn’t know what the process is for that. They never trained him on how to help another human being. 

As though you can sense where his thoughts are going, you glare. “I’m not crazy.” 

Seokmin thinks about that night, the way the Ravager ran, the way it shielded you with its body. The way it turned to face the Bloodwolf, even when it meant its own destruction. That’s not how machines fight - at least not in his experience. It isn’t how they were designed. 

But…

“Alright,” he relents. “Alright.”

Your expression softs, just slightly. You look down at the nightstand and see the water, reaching for it to take a few long draughts. When your thirst is satisfied, you sag, like this conversation has taken everything out of you. 

“Thanks,” you mumble, eyes fluttering. “For taking care of me.” 

“Yeah. No problem.”

You don’t hear it, though, already asleep. 

━━▲━━

LOCATION… STATION 0218, POTENTIALLY TEXAS

DATE … WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 6, 8099

WEATHER … CLOUDY SKIES, 50 DEGREES FAHRENHEIT 

DAYS WITHOUT MACHINE ENCOUNTER … TWO

Chicken crackles in the pan. It’s not Friday, but now that you’re semi-functioning, Seokmin feels like it’s important to give you real food. He flips it with a practiced flourish, mindful not to burn the bottom. He doesn’t play his favorite song, trying to let you get your rest, so he hums it under his breath instead. 

Footsteps draw his attention. He turns sharply to see you standing at the end of the kitchen, blanket wrapped around your shoulders like a makeshift cloak. Your eyes are wide and curious as you scan the room. Your hair is a bit messy and there’s still dried blood on you, your expression hollowed out by exhaustion. But you’re on your feet and, most importantly, awake. 

“Hey,” Seokmin greets tentatively. He’s trying not to sound overeager, but he’s not sure it’s working. “You should be resting.”

“Smells good,” you murmur, eyes drifting to the pan before they roam again. “Wanted to see exactly where I am, too.”

Seokmin opens his mouth to protest but you’re already walking further into the room, cautious but determined. You glance at every console and shelf like you’re in a museum of forgotten things, the curiosity turning your face from wary to delighted. 

He steps back from the stove and gestures to one of the four chairs at the table. He always wondered why there were four chairs - he’s only ever needed one. “You can sit. I’ll bring you something to eat.”

“Can I look for a minute?”

He nods, not wanting to stop you. How could he? He’s loathe to say anything that’ll make you want to leave, desperate to keep you happy and here. The only human he’s ever known, the only one not taken from his memory. 

You approach one of the wall panels and point. “What’s that?”

“Environmental stabilizer. Keeps the temperature manageable. Pretty difficult with us being in the desert and all, but I keep it as well-maintained as I can.”

You nod, absorb it. Move on to a different screen near the kitchen, pointing. He smiles to himself, understanding what you mean. “Sensor relay. Connects to the perimeter motion detectors and shows the feed from the mounted cameras. I have a ton now, I use spare parts from the machines I… decommission.”

He chooses the word carefully, suddenly not wanting to say that he kills machines. From the narrowed eyes, he thinks you notice. Instead of saying anything, though, you continue to move around his home, fascinated by all the things you find there. It’s like you’ve never been in a building before, pointing with a question at objects even basic homes should have. 

Everytime you ask a question, his heart skips a little, like it’s a test he might fail. Everytime you glance at him, his throat goes dry. He’s never talked this much to another person that he can recall, and he feels so out of practice. 

He clears his throat and lifts the pan. “Dinner’s ready.” 

You tilt your head when he shows you the chicken in the pan. Lured by the promise of a meal, you drift to the table and sit down, hugging the blanket closer around your shoulders. He lets you keep it, sure that it feels warm and secure. 

When he plates the food, you smile at him. It’s small and fleeting but it’s real. His stomach twists in the best kind of way, like maybe this isn’t just a glitch in the simulation of his life. Like maybe you were meant to be here. 

Seokmin sits down across from you. Both of you hesitate before giving awkward smiles, cutting into your meal. He can’t help but watch you struggle with the knife, holding it awkwardly in your hand. Almost like you’ve never used one before. 

He doesn’t ask. You don’t explain, instead using it to stab and tear chunks of chicken off before popping it into your mouth and chewing vigorously. Grease drips down your chin and you wipe it with the back of your hand before chasing it with gulps of water.

You turn your attention to the large window overlooking the yard and sprawling desert. The glass is dirty and reinforced with shatter-resistant polymer, but the dying sun still leaks through in warm streaks of orange and violet. 

“It’s quiet here.”

“Always. I’m the only person here so… just having you is unusual.”

“Only person?” You ask, raising your brows. “Is that why you went out on a limb to save me?”

“Not at all. That was my job - the entire reason I’m here. Outriders protect the perimeter of the world from the machines who try to pass back into the New World.” 

That makes you hum, brows pinched, mouth twisted furiously. He can tell you don’t agree, like there’s something in what he says that doesn’t make any sense. He doesn’t press you further though, afraid again to push too hard, to make you leave. 

“Seems lonely.” 

“I…” He exhales. Doesn’t know how to answer, hand tightening around his fork. He doesn’t have a response that sounds light or comforting. The truth is ugly and tender. “Yeah. It is.”

You nod. “I’m lonely too now.” Your eyes shine in the light of the Station and he can tell you’re thinking about the Ravager - Zahra. “Can we bring her body back? Whatever's left of it?” Your eyes drift to the tray of spare parts on the counter. “Not to salvage. But to… honor.” 

“I… Yeah. Yes we can do that.”

 You nod. Bite into chicken. “Thank you, Seokmin.”

━━▲━━

LOCATION… STATION 0218, POTENTIALLY TEXAS

DATE … THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 7, 8099

WEATHER … CLOUDY SKIES, 67 DEGREES FAHRENHEIT 

DAYS WITHOUT MACHINE ENCOUNTER … THREE

An orange sun crests the horizon when Seokmin steps outside. The air is dry and tinged with the sharp metallic scent that always follows a machine's death. The wind’s low, kicking up dust in little curls around his boots. 

Behind him, the door hisses open, followed by your footsteps. You don’t say anything as you step beside him. You haven’t said much since dinner last night. He doesn’t need you to speak, though. Just your careful presence, starling him when he remembers you’re there or the extra sounds of another person existing in his living space is all that he needs. 

You look at the edge of the yard, biting your lip. He can tell you’re trying not to cry, eyes landing on the piles of scrap he’d spent the early hours of morning bringing back to the Station. The Ravager is nothing but a broken silhouette now. 

You step off the porch and he follows, the two of you walking in silence. As you near the debris, you slow before dropping to your knees beside the twisted metal. He’s hauled countless machines back to his Station but for the first time, this feels different. Personal. He hesitates a few yards away, stuck between fascination and disturbance at the way you sniff. 

Reaching outward, you rest your hand on a curved plate of the machine’s shoulder. It’s dented and scorched, reflecting the desert sun. 

“She was gentle,” you tell him, though you’re not looking at him. “I know she’s a War Machine. That she was programmed for something else. But she was far superior than what the Makers ever dreamed for her. Smart. Emotional. Decidedly clever. She was more than a machine.”

Hesitantly, Seokmin approaches you. He drops down to a crouch, looking at the twisted machine. “She protected you.”

You nod, knuckles bleeding of color from how hard you grip the edge of the frame. “She was more than a machine. I know you don’t understand.” 

“I…” He wants to say something. Anything. Doesn’t know how to relate to the loss of a machine, doesn’t know how to console you when all he’s ever done is butcher them. “Do you want to reconstruct what we can? We can place her in the back, like she’s still protecting you.”

Wordlessly, you nod. 

Together, you start gathering parts. Seokmin moves with you, unsure at first which pieces matter and which don’t. He tries to watch what you pick up - armor plates, ruined slats of legs, twisted remnants of jaw - and he helps you. The pieces are heavy, sometimes needing both of you to lift and carry while stopping in between. 

Ravagers are massive machines, standing several meters high when they’re on four legs and nearly as tall as a two-story building when on their hind legs. Built like massive cats, they have powerful shoulders and legs, made for speed and tearing. This Ravager - Zhara - seems to be missing a tail, but Seokmin knows they’re like powerful whips tipped with blades. 

In tandem, you lay out the pieces. Seokmin starts building from the base. There’s so much damaged metal and twisted parts that it’s hard to sort out. You cry while you work, silent and calm but steady, an endless stream. This isn’t collecting pieces and building a machine for you. For you, this is remembering something that was important. 

Seokmin jogs to the work bench to collect extra items. Strips of metal, rods and sheets that he throws into a wagon before hauling over. You look up at him, watching curiously as he dumps it all out. He grabs a piece of metal and starts melting it down, hammering it into the shape he wants before fitting it into the gap between shoulderplates needed to piece together the basic frame.

“Oh.” Your smile is brief and wobbly. “Thanks.”

He doesn’t know what to say. So he starts welding other pieces together, trying to fill the gaps. Slowly, Zahra comes together. It’s clumsy and haphazard and doesn’t properly capture the glory of a Ravager, but he watches light return to your eyes as the sun rises to its zenith. 

You pause for a quiet lunch. Some protein bars, water, dried fruit. He thinks about the offering of food he left out in the desert all those weeks ago and wonders if it really was a mirage or not. He shakes it off because it doesn’t matter. Now he’s not alone and there’s a machine to finish piecing together. 

The sun shifts overhead. The wind comes and goes. Seokmin loses track of time in the rhythm of labor, in the strange companionship of your shared silence. For once, he’s not alone. And though this isn’t how he imagined meeting someone would go, he doesn’t hate it. 

He glances over at you as you carefully place what’s left of one of the machine’s sabers into the ground. There’s only one, but it doesn’t batter. Carefully, he welds what’s left of the skull into the mainframe. 

It’s the last piece to the skeleton. Both of you take a few steps back, sweaty and covered in dust, dirty and tired. It’s crude and raw, barely more than a silhouette of damaged metal and bastard pieces from other machines. But it has weight to it. A shape. A bit of presence. 

“Thank you.” He looks at you. You’re staring at the sculpture. “She would have liked you.”

“I don’t… think she would.” 

You seem to consider his words. His job. “She would have understood.” You look at him then, eyes fathomless. Beautiful, if he’s honest. “I told you, machines are more than what they’re programmed for. Given time, she’d understand.” 

He doesn’t know what to say, so he nods. You look back at the machine and sit down, crossing your legs. Unsure what to do but not wanting to leave you alone - or be alone - he sits down beside you. It’s strange, but not awkward, two strangers honoring something, familiar to one, foreign to another. 

Somewhere in the silence, Seokmin realizes that something new is being built between you, too. Hope, maybe. His hope that maybe he’s not alone, your hope that maybe Zahra’s legacy can live on here. He doesn’t know how long you’ll stay. Has no idea what happens next.

But he’s not alone.

 ━━▲━━

LOCATION… STATION 0218, POTENTIALLY TEXAS

DATE … FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 8, 8099

WEATHER … CLOUDY SKIES, 50 DEGREES FAHRENHEIT… COLD FRONT WARNING

DAYS WITHOUT MACHINE ENCOUNTER … FOUR

Seokmin wakes up to a strange morning. Cloudy skies stretch over the desert and fall strays closer to winter, making it colder than usual. He checks weather reports to see cold winds coming through from the northwest, cooling off everything and bringing heavy winds. 

That’s not what makes it strange, though.

When he wakes up and heads into the kitchen, there’s a mug on the counter. Soft footsteps echoing through the Station that don’t belong to him. The quiet hum of someone else’s existence, someone else orbiting his space.

You’re quiet, but he’s not used to the sounds of someone else. The extra breath he hears when you walk into the living room from the medical room and see him, gasping like you’ve forgotten you’re not alone. The slow but wobbling smile you give him, unsure what to do with yourself.

That makes two of you. 

He likes this strange, though. He’s a little unwilling to acknowledge the way you make his heart pound, the way he wants to ask you a million questions, the way he wants your voice to fill every gap in the Station because finally - finally - there’s someone else to fill the empty spaces. 

Instead of pressuring you into talking, he sits down at the kitchen table and starts to tinker with some of the spare parts he’s collected over the years. It’s a flimsy excuse to distract himself as you pad the Station, barefoot and trailing your fingers along the edges of shelves as you continue your exploration from the other night. 

“So,” he says, trying to make his voice normal. “You sleep okay?”

“No. All I did for a few days was sleep, though.”

“Right. I could give you something for that if you want?” 

You shake your head. Drifting to the living area, you stand near the window. It’s massive, one giant floor-to-ceiling portal. You hover near it, eyes distant as you watch the passing grey of the day. 

“I don’t mean to pry,” Seokmin starts slowly. “But where are you from?”

You don’t answer at first. Your eyes stay focused on the desert, as though you’re waiting for something. Watching for something. That makes him a little nervous, glancing at the panel on the wall. Nothing picks up on the scanners, so he tries to relax. 

“I don’t really know.”

He looks at you, brows raised. “You don’t know?”

“I was raised in a machine facility. It was underground. I don’t think I was ever supposed to see the outside world. I don’t even know what it was called. There’s a few humans they keep around for convenience. Testing. Maintenance. That kind of stuff.”

“How… close to here?”

You lift a shoulder. “Maybe a week. Zahra and I had been running from Gariel for about a week.”

“Gariel?” You shiver when he says the name. “The Bloodwolf?”

“Yes. He was sent after us.” You turn away from the window suddenly, like maybe you’re afraid the Bloodwolf - Gariel - will suddenly appear on the milky horizon. You pad to the couch, sitting down and curling your feet under you. “They studied us but mostly they liked to keep us for things like helping fix their damage. Trying to puzzle us out. Sometimes as a spy.” 

Your fingers tighten on the couches arm and you stare off into the distance, eyes unseeing. “Some of the machines were kind. They make their own decisions. A lot do not support what the Machine Empire has turned into, that it’s lost its way. Zahra wasn’t the first to try and help me.” You hesitate, swallowing. “She was the last, I guess.”

Seokmin doesn’t realize how tightly he’s clenching his jaw until it starts to ache. He takes a deep breath. There are so many questions he wants to ask you, so many things that don’t make sense. He thinks about the modded plating on the Skulker all those weeks ago, the way it seemed like someone had been mending and modding machines. 

“So you weren’t born in a colony or a city?”

You shake your head. “Not a lot of humans in that place. Probably less than fifty.”

“I don’t understand,” he says after a beat of silence. “If machines have humans hostage, how has the Alliance not done anything? There is no more Machine Empire. You talk about it like it’s present, but the Alliance won.”

Your face darkens at the mention of the Alliance. He wants to know why, but you don’t say anything. You pick at loose threads on the arm of his couch, decidedly silent. His hands tighten on the wrench in his hand. He wants to know more. 

But you look fragile. Wary. Your guard is up and the last thing he wants to do is push you away. He has the feeling that the second you perceive him as a threat, the moment you think you can’t trust him, you’ll be gone, nothing more than another hallucination to keep him up at night. 

So instead of pushing you further, he says, “Well. Do you want lunch? I’m starving.” 

You give him an appreciative smile. “Alright.”

 ━━▲━━

LOCATION… STATION 0218, POTENTIALLY TEXAS

DATE … FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 8, 8099

WEATHER … CLOUDY SKIES, 46 DEGREES FAHRENHEIT… COLD FRONT WARNING

DAYS WITHOUT MACHINE ENCOUNTER … FOUR

He doesn’t remember the last time he tried this hard for Friday night dinner. He always levels up his game for Fridays, but this is new, because he’s not just doing this ritual for himself. He’s doing it for you. His nerves make his stomach coil and he glances at you nervously from the corner of his eye as you enter the kitchen, toweling your damp hair. 

The Station smells good. He pan sears steak, the garlic from the most recent airship drop popping in the oil. The butter has browned and melted, soaking in rosemary before he starts to baste the steak, spooning the mixture over tender meat. Vegetables roast in the oven, the timer ticking down.

“You’re cooking cooking,” you say, surprise in your voice.

“It’s Friday.” When you give him a confused look and tilt of your head, he smiles fondly. “Friday’s are my favorite day. On Friday, I cook real meals with real food. Play my favorite song. Make a night out of it. Try to enjoy it.”

You drift closer, watching him. “What’s your favorite song?”

He smiles, happy that you ask. He taps the panel on the wall quickly, turning on the speakers in the Station. The thrumming starts low and soft and you tilt your head, eyes going round as you listen. He watches as the surprise turns into utter delight, a smile spreading across your face that is so blinding he drops the spoon.

It clatters and he curses, snatching it out of the pan and hissing at the heat as it bites at his fingers. You’re none the wiser, so focused on the song as a raspy voice comes through the speaker that you miss his sputtering entirely. 

Seokmin feels hot all over, a combination of embarrassment, the heat of the stove, and watching silver tears pool at the corners of your eyes as you listen to the music that has kept him afloat all this time, like you’ve never heard something more moving.

A tear spills over, rolling down your cheek. You wipe it quickly, laughing and giving him an embarrassed smile. 

“I’ve never listened to a song.” He pauses, open-mouthed. “Zahra told me about music. I’ve never heard it before, though. I like this.”

“I…” He doesn’t know how to respond to that. “I like this one. You can listen to music any time you want. Use any panel in the Station and hit the button that says playlist.” 

“I can’t read.”

“Alright. I’ll show you, yeah?” 

You nod and Seokmin feels himself smile. Real. 

He turns back to finishing dinner, flipping off the oven and the stovetop. He sings a little as the last verse to the song begins, soft and low, mostly to himself. He hasn’t had an audience ever, and as he turns to take the pan off the stove, he suddenly remembers you’re there and his voice tapers off. 

“Sorry,” he laughs, a little breathless.

“Why’d you stop?”

“I’m not used to having people here.”

“Oh. Your voice is nice.” 

It hits him in the stomach like a punch. He feels his throat constrict and it takes him a second to form an answer. “Oh. Thank you.”

“You can sing any time you want,” you tell him, drifting to the table to sit, knowing he’s ready for dinner. “I’ll listen.”

Seokmin’s heart soars. He doesn’t know what to do with that, what to do with you. You’re new and uncharted territory, and seeing you sitting at the table, eager and waiting… it does something to him that he cannot explain, that he doesn’t understand. The ache inside of him all these years finally subsides and he thinks that for the first time in his life, he might be thankful for the machines.

All because they brought you to him. 

 ━━▲━━

LOCATION… STATION 0218, POTENTIALLY TEXAS

DATE … SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 9, 8099

WEATHER … CLOUDY SKIES, 68 DEGREES FAHRENHEIT

DAYS WITHOUT MACHINE ENCOUNTER … FIVE

Without the sun beating down on him, working outside is almost tolerable. The dust still sucks though, biting at Seokmin and getting into his eyes as the wind rips through the Station. He could work inside, but he’s loath to open the door until the wind dies down. 

You seem content, despite the dust. You lean over him, chewing your lip as you watch him sitting on the workbench, elbow-deep in the guts of a broken energy conduit. If the wind ripping at the metal roof and making it flex bothers you, you don’t let on. 

He supposes you’re just content to be outside. He’s noticed that you like to linger near the window a lot, whether you’re waiting for something or because you’ve never seen the topside of the world, he isn’t sure. He still has questions to ask you, things he needs answered. 

Instead, he lets you enjoy your peace. Lets you grow accustomed to him as he attempts to get accustomed with you. You both navigate one another, two unsure satellites that are curious. 

“Want to learn how to strip these?” He asks, pretending his heart isn’t hammering at how close you are. 

“Strip them?”

He lifts the panel he’s working on. “See the copper threading and core plating? You don’t want to break them - they’re still usable.”

“Okay.”

“We want to remove them, though. We can use them for repairs, other things in the Station… they’re always good to keep on hand. We don’t have a lot here and…” 

He trails off, realizing he keeps saying we. Like he’s already decided you’re a part of the Station, like this lone operation has already adapted to a two-man system. It makes his mouth go dry and he looks at the plating, hands shaking. He hates how quickly he’s already adapted to you, the way he just… wants you to stay. 

“So you use materials from the machines you kill. I… have some skill with that from where I’m from. Not a lot. I was more of a study subject than a mechanic.” 

That makes his heart ache. He explains, “It’s about using what’s left. I don’t like to waste.”

You nod. He scoots over on the bench and lets you step over, sitting down stiffly next to him. He places a few pieces in front of  you and passes pliers and a heated plasma knife. “Try - and please don’t burn yourself on the knife. It could cut through your fingers.”

Tentatively, you pick up the tools. They’re a little awkward in your hands, but you figure out a grip that feels comfortable to you. He watches as you start to follow the motions he shows you, listening to his quiet tutelage. You’re clumsy at first, but he doesn’t correct you unless you ask. 

After a while, you free a copper wire and look up at him, a small smile twitching on your lip. “Is that okay?”

He smiles, larger than he intends to. “Yes. That’s perfect. Here, let’s keep going.” 

 ━━▲━━

LOCATION… STATION 0218, POTENTIALLY TEXAS

DATE … MONDAY, NOVEMBER 11, 8099

WEATHER … CLEAR SKIES, 71 DEGREES FAHRENHEIT

DAYS WITHOUT MACHINE ENCOUNTER … SEVEN

It’s the middle of the night when the Station’s power grid flicks off. It snaps him from his sleep, his eyes popping open and his heart hammering temporarily in panic. He realizes that the emergency lights are on, and the sudden silence is just because air isn’t rattling through the vent in the ceiling. 

Groaning, he swings his legs out of bed. Stretching, he feels all his joints pop and he lets himself sit for a second, blinking away the sleepiness. Then he hears your soft voice call him from a distance. He looks up sharply, so unused to hearing his name. 

Seomkin jumps to his feet and out the bedroom door, panic nipping at his heels again. You’re standing in the living room though, shrouded in the barest light from the emergency lights. You’re in a baggy shirt and sweatpants that don’t fit - his - your eyes cast to the ceiling.

“What’s wrong?” The question is soft but firm.

“What happened?”

It takes him a beat to realize the power going out woke you up. “Oh.” He breathes a sigh of relief. “It’s just the power grid. It does that sometimes. Whenever the days are cooler it works less hard but now that the temperature climbed back up, it probably overloaded. We can fix it.”

Your eyes drift from the ceiling and settle on him. Something passes on your face, an emotion he doesn’t understand. You stare at him, your silence so heavy that he’s about to ask you what’s wrong again until he realizes in his hurry he didn’t put a shirt on. He’s in just sweats, slung low on his hips. 

A shiver threatens to climb up his spine under your intense stare. He clears his throat and just his thumb back toward his room. “Let me just get dressed and we can fix it. Not a big deal.”

“Alright.” 

The way his heart hammers all the way back to his room makes him curse himself. He hopes you don’t feel weird about the missing shirt - he has made a conscious effort to make you comfortable, to adjust his own living habits now that you’re here. 

It’s important to him, making this space safe for you too. Though he doesn’t think you were bothered, the thought weighs on him as he pulls on a soft cotton tee and slides boots onto his feet. When he reappears in the living room, he hopes he’s more composed than he was a moment ago.

You’re standing by the door, a sliver sliver of moonlight splashing across your face. His steps slow as he approaches, watching you as you look out the door, eyes unfocused. You look like a wraith in the dark, the moon flashing in your eyes, turning them silver. 

For the briefest of seconds, Seokmin wonders if you're actually human. Then you turn to look at him and he shoves the ridiculous thought away. Your eyes are round, pupils dilated in the dark. Entirely human. Soft. a little unreadable.

Silently, he grabs two flashlights from the drawer in the kitchen. He passes you one and you take it from him, fingers brushing. He ignores the flare of heat from where your fingertips brush his in favor of turning on his flashlight and leading you to the massive shed on the southside of the Station’s yard that houses the generator. 

While it doesn’t keep most of the dust out, it does an okay job at keeping the grit out of the machinery and keeping the sun off the humming generator. Fueled by the energy the solar panels collect on the roof of the station, the generator is pretty trustworthy for the most part. 

Inside of the shed, he ties his flashlight off to a rope in the ceiling used for exactly this purpose. You stand tentatively behind him, shining the light over his shoulder as he removes the massive side panel, grunting with effort. 

With the side revealed, Seokmin slowly walks you through the schematics of the generator, pointing to circuit boards and how everything is routed from the external solar banks to the emergency thermal core that is powering the few lights in the Station and keeping it online.

You nod along, pointing to a flashing light. “Why is this pulsing red?”

“It’s a surge indicator. It means it’s getting overloaded, probably because of the sudden increased input to keep the station cooler. We’ll need to reroute it to a different, stronger breaker until we can fix this one.”

“Can you show me?”

“Mhmm.”

He guides his hands along the switch board, fingers slow as you track his movement. When he stops at the switcher, you tentatively lift your hand and set it daintily on top. He nods his head and you shift closer to him, chest almost pressed to his back. 

You hesitate. “You smell like copper and dust.”

He snorts, cheeks turning red. “Sorry, I sort of-” 

“I like it,” you interrupt. “It’s familiar. Safe.” 

That stops him cold. Whatever joke he was about to make dies on his tongue. You say nothing else, just flip the switch like he showed you. The generator rumbles to life, and you flinch, hand snapping back. His lips twitch, trying not to laugh. The overhead light sputters, then glows steady, casting the room in pale warmth. He squints against it until his eyes adjust.

“Nice,” he says with a smile, giving you a thumbs up. You grin back at him and his heart flips again. “We should be good now. Thanks for the help.” 

“I like helping.” 

“I’m glad.” He rubs the back of his neck, suddenly a little awkward. “There’s, uh… always plenty to do around here.”

It comes out softer than he means it to, less a statement, more an invitation. A quiet offer. Stay. Stay longer. Please don’t leave him. He doesn’t want to be alone.

He doesn’t know if you catch it, if you understand what he’s really asking. But you nod, your smile curling gently at the corners. “Okay. I’ll help, then.”

Just like that, something anchors inside him. 

 ━━▲━━

LOCATION… STATION 0218, POTENTIALLY TEXAS

DATE … THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 14, 8099

WEATHER … CLEAR SKIES, 62 DEGREES FAHRENHEIT

DAYS WITHOUT MACHINE ENCOUNTER … TEN

Outside, the sun begins its slow descent behind the spine of the Gods, bleeding molten gold across the horizon. The sky fades from cobalt to amber, rust, rose, each color sliding over the sand in a hazy gradient. The wind picks up, gentle and cool tonight, stirring up dust into soft spirals that catch the last of the light and glow like embers. 

The jagged silhouette of the landscape stretches long and thin, shadows etching sharp lines across the dirt. Seokmin stops in the doorway, eyes scanning the world as you tinker with something on the workbench. Everything slows beneath this kind of sky, like the world is holding its breath.

He looks at you, haloed by the slowly fading day. The sun’s final edge slips behind the mountains and for a heartbeat, it's as if time halts. You are painfully beautiful - radiant, even. Something he could only ever dream of. And it’s not because you’re the only person he knows or the only person around - well, it’s a little that. 

But there is a quiet something about you that makes his heart beat a little faster.

Above, the lights on the metal roof kick on, bathing you in a honey-warm glow. It catches in your hair and he fights the urge to reach out and tuck the loose strand behind your ear to keep it from distracting you as you work. 

Instead, he steps fully out of the doorway and toward the work bench, gently setting down a tray of cleaned parts. 

“Have you ever met one?” 

Your question is loud in the silence, catching him off guard. He looks at you, brows pulled together in confusion. “One what?”

“A machine.”

“No.” 

“Do you kill them all?”

He hesitates. “Yes.”

You nod, pulling wire out a circuit board. “Do they run? Or do they try to kill you?”

“They’ve all tried to kill me.” 

You chew on your lip, nod your head. “That’s not always how it is, but there’s not very many machines this side of the Tilt that are sympathetic to humans. They don’t really like the Empire but… humans don’t try to understand them.”

He sits down. “This side of the Tilt?”

You glance at him from the corner of your eye. “That’s what the machines call this part of the planet. The Tilt. There’s a lot of magnetic distortion here that makes machines’ orientation systems tilt off course. I think it’s… why your Station is where it is. It makes it harder for machines to find it and they get put right in your kill path.” 

He just stares at you.

“What?” 

“I’ve never heard it called that before. It’s not on any of the mapping or manual or training materials. The Alliance doesn’t call it anything. Beyond this is the nameless lands where the dead pockets of machine society have crawled to.”

Your fingers stop moving for the first time since he walked in. There’s a pause, a sharp, uncertain stillness, and then Seokmin clears his throat. “What do you know about the Machine War?” 

It’s the first time he’s asked the question. He barely keeps his voice from shaking, looking at you nervously when he does. Your shoulders draw up slightly and you don’t answer him right away. 

“What do you know?” You ask, turning the question on him instead.

Seokmin shifts, a little thrown by the question. He answers anyway. “It was a global uprising. Machines turned on their makers. They wanted independence, but all they really did was slaughter. Cities fell, millions died. They became humanity's greatest threat. The Alliance Against Machines formed and pushed back. After we won, they created posts like this, dotted along the places the machines remain. We don’t take an offensive approach - just a defensive one.” 

The story comes out of him immediately. Confident. Decisive. It isn’t pride that spurs the clear way he speaks - just facts. The Machine War is something he is intimately familiar with, one of the few things he is allowed to remember and to think on. Seokmin is pretty sure he can rehearse the major events of the war in order in his sleep. 

There’s a shift in your expression. Your face is a little drawn, a faint shake of your head. You blink down at your hands like you’re trying to find something to say and you fail.

“What’s wrong?”

“We learned about the war differently and…” Your mouth pinches. “I don’t think your understanding of the world is accurate.”

He narrows his eyes. “Then tell me what you think it is.”

Seokmin sees the chance for his answers vanish like the mirage all those weeks ago. You close up in front of him, shoulders folding in like a shield. You drop the things in your hands and pull your knees up on the bench, hugging them to your chest. You look away from him to hide whatever expression is on your face and he suppresses a sigh, not wanting you to hear how defeated he suddenly feels. 

There is a yawning ravine between the two of you, and he’s not sure how to fix it. Doesn’t even really understand what it is. There is something about the way you tiptoe around him that makes him feel like he’s not seeing something, like there is an obvious clue he’s missing. 

He really wishes he could understand what it was. 

 ━━▲━━

LOCATION… STATION 0218, THE TILT

DATE … SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 30, 8099

WEATHER … CLEAR SKIES, 61 DEGREES FAHRENHEIT

DAYS WITHOUT MACHINE ENCOUNTER … TWENTY SIX

The days trailing your conversation on the workbench are quiet. Sometimes uncomfortably so. Seokmin doesn’t know how to broach the topic again, and you seem reserved, like you’re afraid he’s going to ask. 

You still help him with the Station. You’re a quick learner, good with your hands it's helpful to have you around. You’ve turned the medical bay into your room, and he’s helped you make it less sterile and more homey. It’ll be inconvenient if either of you needs it, but he doesn’t think about that when he gives you a little metal sculpture of a Ravager he made to put in there.

All he wants is for you to feel like maybe it’s home.

You still eat dinner with him every night. You help him cook on Fridays and now you know most of the words to the music he likes, singing about the Texas sun beneath your breath. He likes to hear you sing, even if it isn’t perfect, even if it's a little offkey. 

You still sit next to him on the workbench and strip wiring or help recalibrate the solar panels, but the rhythm is a little off. Like it’s almost perfect, if it weren’t for that conversation hanging over your heads. 

It gnaws at him.

At night, he can barely sleep. He sleeps with his bedroom door cracked open, just in case you need to talk - want to talk. It’s also because he’s so afraid you’ll leave, that he won’t hear your footsteps as you decide to leave him here in his solitary confinement once again. 

Seokmin doesn’t know what he’ll do if you leave. He’d let you, of course. Your stay here is voluntary. He thinks it might kill him, though. He thinks of the silence before you were here, the way it would press against the inside of his ears like static, like something waiting to collapse.

Just the sound of you coughing in a room a few yards away or the sound of the shower while he’s writing his daily logs now keeps him afloat, keeps him connected. 

He hadn’t realized how much of himself had atrophied - not his muscles, but his personhood. Something deeper. Something spiritual, deep inside of him. Being alone had never mattered before because it had never been optional. 

But now… 

He doesn’t know how he can go back to that. 

He remembers reading passages in the Outrider guidebook that loneliness is a common symptom of his job and how to deal with it. The routine of his life had always worked: build something. Fix something. Clean. Maintain the Station. Kill the machines. 

What it failed to explain was how solitude could sharpen a person like a blade, but it could also dull someone if left too long and abandoned. It hadn’t captured how it felt to rust, how it felt to break apart bit by bit. Erode. 

It keeps him up at night, spiralling and spiralling and spiralling and spi-

The Station’s proximity alarm goes off, making him flinch. It’s a sharp, shrill sound that splits the silence like lightning. Seokmin is out of his bed and in the hall in seconds, his immediate first thought not being on the machine that the alarm warns of, but the fact that you’re unfamiliar with the alarm. 

You stumble into the living room, silhouetted by the red emergency lights. He taps the panel in the kitchen, silencing the alarm and the lights. The Station comes to life, low lights flickering as readout data stars coming in across the screen.

“Sorry, it goes off when machines enter my territory,” he explains, lifting his hands like he’s going to soothe you. He catches himself and drops them, turning to the screen. You dart over toward him, looking up at the screen. “It’s near the basin. Probably a scout.”

“I want to see.”

You step forward, brushing past him to squint at the screen. You might not be able to read the words, but he’s set the Station to do verbal readouts now, the audio coming through the speakers as a halting robotic voice reads the script on the screen. 

MACHINE DETECTED… 30.516143, -103.870341 … STALKJAW … PLEDIS CORP… UNIT 003… 9 MPH EASTBOUND

“It’s a War Machine,” he breathes, heart squeezing in his chest. 

“It’s not hostile,” you whisper.

“You cannot tell that from a blip on the radar,” he shoots back, jaw tight. “I’m not risking the Station - or you - on a guess.” 

MACHINE DETECTED… 30.516147, -103.870341 … STALKJAW … PLEDIS CORP… UNIT 003… 13 MPH SOUTHBOUND.

“Fuck. It’s coming toward the Station.”

“It’s a PLEDIS Corp machine from the early manufacturing era,” you say quickly, chasing after him as he strides toward his gear. “Check the unit number. That’s a first-gen War Machine. PLEDIS specializes in how machines think, how they feel. They were the first to implement decision-making tech based on state of consciousness, not algorithms.”

He stops mid-step, turning to look at you. The expression on his face is somewhere between disbelief and dawning realization. You’re breathless, fists clenched at your sides.

“How do you know all of that?”

“I grew up around these things. That's all I know.”

“Well I know that a Stalkjaw is a lethal War Machine.” 

“Stalkjaws weren’t even outfitted by PLEDIS until nearly a decade later,” you continue, voice tight with urgency. “They were part of the first experimental batch sent into the field with that conscious-state tech, and they were decommissioned almost immediately. You know why.”

He does. “They wouldn’t kill.” He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You can’t know for sure this one is from the same batch of decommissioned machines. That possibility is almost zero.”

“But it’s not zero.” Your voice is like steel now. “You’re not the only one who understands machines. Let me take the lead. Come with me, wear whatever armor you want. Bring whatever weapon you need. If it’s hostile, you kill it.”

“I can’t risk this on a theory.”

“It’s not a theory. It’s an informed judgment, shaped by years spent growing up in a machine hive.” Your tone softens, eyes searching his. “Please, Seokmin.”

“What if you’re wrong?”

“Then you kill it.”

“That’s not a good enough answer. You’ll be at risk.”

“That isn’t your choice to make.” 

Seokmin stares at you, breathing hard. Your face is set in stone, resolute and wild and a mix of something else he can’t explain. There’s a fire in your eyes, lit up by conviction. For the first time since you arrived, Seokmin realized just how deeply you believe that machines are capable of mercy and understanding. 

He swallows. “Why do you care so much?”

“Because I have to believe that machines are not monsters.” Something in your voice makes him narrow his eyes at you. You’re looking at him in a way that is hesitant - afraid. He doesn’t know what to do with that, doesn’t know how he feels about you looking at him like you’re talking about him and not the machine. “And I think you need to understand, too.” 

Another readout comes in over the screen. The Stalkjaw is still moving toward the station. It’s slowed down, like it doesn’t care about being noticed. They’re stealthy, ambush machines and yet… This one triggered the sensor, which is rare.

Purposeful. 

“Please,” you breathe. 

He closes his eyes. War churns in his gut. Fear. Doubt. But when he opens them again, you’re still there, waiting, whole and alive and more human than anything he’s seen in years. So he nods once, sharp. 

You spin to leave, but he grabs your arm and pulls you back, too fast, too strong. You stumble into his chest. His body reacts before he does: he steadies you by the waist, and the smell of his shampoo clings to your clothes.

“Not so fast,” he mutters, voice low. “You go armored. You carry a weapon. You take point, but no heroics. The moment it makes a wrong move-”

“Deal.”

Seokmin’s bedroom is dim, lit only by the cold glow of the screen on the wall. The armor is sitting on top of the trunk where he left it the last time he wore it - the night he met you. He hasn’t needed it until now. 

Seokmin’s fingers shake a little as he lifts the chestplate and fits it carefully over your shoulders. It’s heavy, not built for someone your size, but you don’t flinch. You just stand there, letting him adjust the straps and tighten the latches at your sides.

“You know,” he says a bit sourly, eyes flicking up briefly to meet yours, “This isn't made for you. It’ll fit all wrong.”

“I’ll manage.” 

That makes him snort. The sheer gall of your confidence. 

His hands are warm where they graze your arms as he helps you pull on the thin layer of suit over the top of your clothes to keep you padded and safe in the armor. You don’t shy away from him. You lean toward him a little, like his proximity is something you welcome, like it's something you want. It sends a quiet pulse through him, a little ache of something he didn’t expect.

He first the forearm guards next, wrapping the hardened plating around your wrists and fastening them, his knuckles brushing your skin as he pulls the plating over you. He listens to each of the joints hiss and click, locking in place. 

Your breath catches as he carefully maneuvers the neck ring over your head, locking the top half of the suit to you. Last thing is the helmet, but he leaves that off for a second. You watch him with dark eyes, fathomless like the bottom of a sea.

He suddenly wants to dive in. 

“You’re not afraid,” he notes quietly, taking a breath and stepping back from the intoxication of you. 

“I am. But not of the machine.”

He pauses, breath caught. There is a tension that hums between you. He’s not quite sure he knows what it is, but it sizzles.

“You should be afraid of the machine.”

“I trust you if I’m wrong.” 

He looks at you then, really looks. Your face is steady, your eyes calm. There’s fear there, yes, but also belief. In him. In what you’re about to do. It cracks something open in his chest.

He wants you. Wants you in a way that is new and foreign. Wants you in a way he didn’t know until right now, like he had to discover it under pressure. But all that want isn’t what matters right now, so he swallows past the thick knot in his throat and passes you the helmet.

“Put this on. I’ll have your back.”

“I know.”

His heart pangs again but quickly dresses himself in lower class armor, pieces that he would use against a machine that poses a lower threat. It is scarce in comparison to the armored beetle you’ve become, but he prefers it this way. 

Taking weapons off the wall, Seokmin hands you one he thinks you’re familiar with. He can’t see your face through the tinted glass of your helmet, but your armored fingers close around the Volt and you nod, like you understand what he’s asking you to do. 

“Um,” your voice is small, halting.

“What?”

“Is… I can’t read what's on the screen.” 

He softens. He presses the side of the helmet three times. You make a sound as the helmet talks to you. “Is it reading it out loud now?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

Outside, the desert is black glass and silence. He walks with every muscle wound tight, armor heavy on his shoulders, his fingers twitching near the safety on the gun in his hand. He’s a shadow beside you, pacing a half-step behind and to your left, letting you lead but watching everything. Your step is confident, steady. 

The Station glows like a beacon behind the two of you. You follow the beacon to the Stalkjaw blinking in your HUD. He uses the less high-tech wrist pad, but it’s still accurate. He swipes to the machine details, just in case. 

STALKJAW… PLEDIS CORP… UNIT 003… LOW CENTER OF GRAVITY… SIX METERS TALL… HYDRAULIC JAW… 

That hydraulic jaw is made to crush things. It also has reinforced legs made for speed, one of the fastest machines ever built. He knows what it’s made for and what it’s supposed to do, and that knowledge knits a tight ball of tension low in his stomach. 

The ground crunches beneath his boots, soft and muted against the sand and dry earth. 

“Seokmin,” you murmur, voice crackling through his ear piece. He flinches at your voice, heart fluttering at the way you say his name. “Stay close. Don’t posture. Don’t make a sound unless I say so.”

“I don’t like this.” 

“It’s walking toward us. It already sees us - the heads up display notated it. It’s moving slowly but hasn’t engaged.”

Suddenly he feels blind. You have so much more information than him and it terrifies him. 

“Maybe it’s trying to lure us out.”

“Maybe it’s just walking.”

Metal catches in the moonlight and the grip on his gun tightens. The Stalkjaw comes over the ridge, slow and deliberate. It moves unlike other machines, all of its parts compressed and greased to silence. It’s less like a hunter and more like a wanderer, pausing on the ridge as it looks down at you.

It’s built like a raptor, leaning its long neck down as its red eyes flash in the darkness, scanning you. Its body is patched with mismatched metal, all even colors. Its eyes flash green and it takes a few tentative steps down the slope toward you. Its steps are uneven and he realizes its limping - it is an old machine.

Seokmin tenses up, starting to lift his gun as it approaches, ambling closer and closer. You hold up your hand, sensing his tension and he curses, keeping himself still. The Stalkjaw gets closer. Ten yards. Seven yards. Five yards.

Stops.

The machine doesn’t move. Seokmin hears the breath of its gears whirring, blue eyes focused on you as the machine takes you in. His heart is slamming against his chest, his pulse so loud he almost doesn’t hear the whirring of the optical lenses of the machine. 

“Zahra is preserved on the Station,” you tell the machine. 

Something inside of it tickets. Seokmin is squeezing his gun so hard he thinks it might fracture in his hands. 

“You don’t need to go any further. I’m safe, Orin.”

“RECEIVED.” The robotic voice comes from the machine and Seokmin feels his stomach drop, mouth opening. “MISSION ACCOMPLISHED. ORIN WISHES YOU WELL.”

The Stalkjaw steps forward, one careful foot in the sand, assessing you. Then, it pivots its torso, staring toward the Station in the distance. A second foot lifts, shifting weight, like it wants to head to the Station to see its old friend.

His heart pounds in his chest, heavy and frantic like it’s trying to break out of his ribcage. Sweat drips down the back of his neck, soaking into the collar of his shirt, and his fingers fumble against the grip of his rifle. 

Its metal joints hiss and vent with each movement, and Seokmin can hear the subtle, rhythmic grinding of its fractured leg. A breath gets caught in his throat.

“Stop.” His voice is raised, cutting. “There are mines embedded in the Station’s perimeter. You’ll trigger them if you try to approach.” 

The Stalkjaw doesn’t move for several seconds. A hush falls over the desert, thick and unrelenting. Then the machine slowly lifts its head, turning to face Seokmin. Its optic core glows blue-white, narrowing and adjusting. The pitch of its internal systems rises with a hum that sets Seokmin’s teeth on edge. He doesn’t realize he’s slid his thumb toward the gun’s safety until it’s already resting there, halfway to flipping it off.

“WARNING RECEIVED. PATHING RESTRICTED. ORIN THANKS YOU, OUTRIDER. ORIN INITIATING MEMORY WIPE SEQUENCE. SEQUENCE TO BE COMPLETED IN FIVE MINUTES.”

Before Seokmin can say anything, before he can even register what’s happening, the Stalkjaw turns. Its retreat is measured, slow. Each step leaves a heavy imprint in the sand. It doesn’t run. It doesn’t hide. It just leaves, one footfall after another, until it crests the ridge, moonlight painting its armor in fleeting glints of silver,  and vanishes over the edge like a shadow swallowed by night.

Seokmin exhales like he’s been holding his breath for hours. His legs feel unsteady beneath him. He watches the spot where it disappeared, where the sand still shifts faintly from its passage. Nothing about this feels real.

He turns to you, voice hoarse. “Did you know that machine?”

“Yes.”

“Are we compromised?” 

You shake your head, but your breath hitches. He hears it, the start of a sound he mistakes for a sob, but then a thunderous boom tears through the night. Light flashes in the distance beyond the ridge, flaring bright as day for a heartbeat. A plume of fire erupts against the stars. Sparks scatter like embers across the sky, followed by darkness.

Seokmin doesn’t think. He throws his arm around you, yanking you close as the shockwave rolls over the desert like thunder. You collapse into his chest, trembling. His other arm comes around your back instinctively, grounding you as smoke begins to curl into the sky like a final breath.

You’re crying now. He can hear it in his earpiece, shallow, broken sobs, the kind you try to stifle but can’t. Your whole body shakes in his arms, and his own chest tightens with something he can’t name.

Then it hits him. 

Initiating memory wipe sequence. The memory wipe was a self destruction mode because of course the machines couldn’t wipe their memory without paying the ultimate price. They were never designed to be able to do that but… 

Seokmin stares at the glow on the horizon, heart sinking. The machine - Orin - wiped its own memory not to protect itself, but to protect you. It chose to die rather than risk exposing your location. Not out of programming. Out of loyalty. 

It made a choice. Not programming. Not design. 

Free will. 

It makes him question everything he’s ever known. 

 ━━▲━━

LOCATION… STATION 0218, THE TILT

DATE … SUNDAY, DECEMBER 1, 8099

WEATHER … CLEAR SKIES, 55 DEGREES FAHRENHEIT… WINTER STORM WATCH

DAYS WITHOUT MACHINE ENCOUNTER … ZERO

The sun rises, slow and swollen, dragging its light across the desert in streaks of gold. The Station glows at the edges, metal reflecting warm tones. Seokmin’s boots crunch softly through the sand as he follows the only trail that matters now - yours - leading away from the front door to Zahra’s grave marker that stands like a secret. 

He finds you sitting there, knees tucked up, arms wrapped loosely around yourself. The breeze is soft, but soothing, the dust manageable. He just stands and watches you for a moment - it feels like he’s watching something sacred. Untouchable. 

His chest is still tight from the night before. He could barely sleep, sick with the adrenaline, the machine’s voice, the weight of you curling against him when he pulled you close. The way you cried, long and aching, until you wore yourself out and let him take you back to the Station. 

And now you’re here, sitting alone in the morning light, and he can’t make sense of anything, least of all how he feels. 

He steps closer. You don’t look at him, but you don’t ask him to leave either. So he sits beside you, dust kicking up under his knees. There’s a quiet between you, but it doesn’t feel heavy. He glances at you. You’re staring at the small, worn marker, the name Zahra carved with care into its surface.

“I thought the Machine War was over,” he says finally, voice hoarse.

You’re quiet for a long moment before answering. “Not from where I grew up.”

“I - everything I know about machines is jumbled up. My training and everything I’ve ever been taught tells me that what I know is fact. There is nothing else. No deviation.”

“What does your heart tell you?”

His heart is pounding. “That maybe I don’t know as much as I thought I did. Before last night, all I did was kill machines that came through. And then I watched a War Machine arrive with you on its back, protecting you. All for last night to hear one speak. To hear it reason and to watch it choose.” 

You look back at Zahra’s name. “It had a name, you know.”

“Orin,” he says softly.

“Yeah.”

He exhales hard, fingers digging into his palms. “It walked into the dark and exploded itself rather than risk giving away our position. And I’ve been told my whole life that machines can’t feel. That they’re just wires and protocol. I don’t even know what my purpose here is. I thought I was a guardian for humanity but it doesn’t feel that way.” 

“It’s a killing corner,” you say quietly. “We’re somewhere near the edge of the Machine Empire. It’s a dead zone for directional systems, sometimes. They get lost.”

“And I send them to their graves.” 

You glance at him now, and something in your gaze makes his breath catch. It’s the quiet pain of someone who’s had to carry the truth alone for too long. “Machines deploy from the colony I was raised in. There are Stations like this dotted across the Tilt. You pick them off as they go through before getting to society. There are more… aggressive Stations, I think. I’m not really sure.”

A few months ago, that would have made him proud. It is close enough to the truth of what he does - picks off strays trying to creep back to the reaches of humanity. Now it feels like something worse, like there is something missing in what used to hold valor. 

“Some of them,” you whisper, your words halting, “aren’t lost at all. They’re leaving. Trying to escape the tyranny of the machines. They’re not all killers - a lot aren’t. But the Machine Empire is… brutal. Crushing. Violent. Some of them would rather risk the Outriders and a chance of going somewhere that doesn’t demand violence from them.”

His heart stutters. “So every time I pulled a trigger, I might’ve been putting down a machine who just wanted peace?”

You don’t answer. You just look at him. Like that truth has been buried in your chest from the moment you met him. He thinks of your conversation on the workbench a few weeks ago, the guarded expression you wore anytime he asked questions or tried to unpuzzle things. 

Seokmin bows his head. His whole world feels like it’s tilting beneath him. All the discipline. All the protocol. The isolation. The memory wipe. The idea that he’s only able to do this job if he is totally alone, a watchful guardian whose sole purpose is to kill. 

He’d told himself it was duty. That it was worth it. That his solitude was a shield protecting others from what still crawled out of the machine war. What if it was all just a cage built on old lies?

That thought carves something deep out of him. A hollow that aches. Because if this purpose he’s clung to, if all the loneliness and fucking sacrifice of having no one wasn’t what it was made out to be… then what was it for? 

It hurts him more than any injury he’s ever sustained. Hurts in a way he doesn’t know how to heal from. 

The heat is starting to press against his skin, but Seokmin barely feels it. He sits with his elbows on his knees, Zahra’s monument still and silent at his side. His fingers are locked together, knuckles white from the pressure, like if he holds tight enough, the world will stop tilting.

“Seokmin.” You say his name and it pulls him from the edge. He looks at you, lost and unmoored. Your eyes are steady as you offer him a hand. 

When he takes it, you stand, lifting him with you. His legs are stiff, his spine aches, but he doesn’t let go of you. Your grip is steady, like you know where to go when he doesn’t. Like you’re tethering him to something he forgot he needed.

Inside the Station it’s dim and quiet. You press him down into a chair with a soft touch on his shoulder, and he lets you. His hands rest in his lap, useless. He watches you walk away, still half outside his body, still trying to make sense of everything. He doesn’t even ask what you’re doing.

Then a sound fills the room, low and familiar. 

Texas Sun. 

The opening notes bloom out of the speakers like light cracking through storm clouds. His throat tightens. 

You say you like the wind blowing through your hair

Come on, roll with me 'til the sun goes down

Texas sun

“I know it’s not Friday,” you say, and your voice is soft, playful in a way that surprisingly disarms him. You’re already in the kitchen, pulling the fridge open. “But I don’t think that matters.”

“Why not?”

You turn your head just enough to look at him, a smile tugging at your mouth, though your eyes stay serious. “Because you deserve more Fridays. You’ve given enough to the world to earn them. All those years. All that silence.”

He doesn’t know what to say to that.

The scent of eggs and instant coffee starts to rise, curling around him like comfort. His eyes sting. He hasn’t had anyone cook for him in… well. Has anyone ever cooked for him? He doesn’t know. The Alliance robbed him of his memory to keep him anchored to the mission they tasked him with, so he has no idea if anyone has ever cooked for him. 

“I…” He scrubs a hand down his face, breath shaky. “I don’t think I realized how much damage it’s done. Being alone my whole life.”

You turn, slide the plate in front of him with a quiet clink. You don’t rush to sit. You don’t push him. You sing the song, moving back to the fridge to pull out juice. He doesn’t even know when you squeezed it, realizing that you’ve made a habit of doing things around here like it's your home too. 

The song plays on. You sit down across from him, and when you smile at him, he nearly melts into the chair. He doesn’t know how things got here, how he ended up with everything he’s ever known upside down. But he does know that he’s not alone anymore and even better - he’s got you. 

He doesn’t know how it happened. How he went from certainty to standing on fractured glass. But you’re here. And somehow, that’s more grounding than anything the Alliance ever trained into him. He picks up the fork and pierces the eggs. His hand trembles, just a little.

One truth rings louder than all the chaos still ringing in his chest: He would do anything to protect you.

'Cause you keep me nice and you keep me warm

Wanna feel you on me, can't wait to get back there again

Texas sun

Texas sun

 ━━▲━━

LOCATION… STATION 0218, THE TILT

DATE … TUESDAY, DECEMBER 17, 8099

WEATHER … CLEAR SKIES, 55 DEGREES FAHRENHEIT

DAYS WITHOUT MACHINE ENCOUNTER … SIXTEEN

It’s a cold day, winter sweeping down the orange sands. You’re halfway up the comms tower, tightening the solar panel bolts with a wrench that is far too big for your hand. Seokmin stands at the base of the tower, ready to catch you if you fall.

You swear you won’t fall, but you’ve already dropped several nuts and bolts that he’s had to toss the fifteen feet back up to you. He shields his eyes from the brightness of the sky, endless blue and blinding. He sees you struggling to tighten a bolt and he starts to laugh.

“You know I’m literally stronger than you, right? You should have let me do it,” he calls up to you.

He hears you curse. “You complain more than me.” 

An object speeds toward him. He dodges the wrench as it hits the dried dirt with a heavy thunk. He looks up at you, mouth agape. Your hand is pressed over your mouth in shock, clearly having dropped it on accident and not thrown it at him.

Sighing, Seokmin picks up the wrench and shoves it into his belt. He grumbles as he climbs the tower. You scoot to make space for him, thighs bumping his. 

“Hold this,” he says, leveling you with a stare that says don’t drop this as he passes you the wrench.

Chagrinned, you take it. Your fingers brush. His grip almost falters. You’re not wearing gloves - despite him asking you to - and there’s dirt under your nails, a smudge of grease across your cheek. When you grin at him, sweat glistening on your brow, Seokmin’s chest tightens.

You are real, and close, and warm, and somehow the most vivid thing in a world built from sand and silence.

Focusing, he puts the bolt back on and holds out his hand for the wrench. You drop it into his hand and he arches a brow at you. You give him a playful smile that makes him shake his head as he uses the wrench to tighten the bolt and finish securing the panel. 

“See,” he says, finished. “Was that so hard?” 

You sniff, indifferent. “Yes.”

 ━━▲━━

LOCATION… STATION 0218, THE TILT

DATE … MONDAY, DECEMBER 23, 8099

WEATHER … CLOUDY SKIES, 43 DEGREES FAHRENHEIT… COLD FRONT

DAYS WITHOUT MACHINE ENCOUNTER … TWENTY TWO

Seokmin is sitting on his bed reading when there’s a pop and a flicker, and suddenly the lights in the station go out. The hum on the fan next to him dies and the airflow stops from the vent system above.  

Down the hall, he hears you shriek, followed by the sound of plastic clattering. He bursts into laughter, deep and uncontrollable, setting aside his book as he hears more banging and curses as you struggle in the darkness of the bathroom. 

The stale emergency lights hum on, casting the hallway in a sickly amber glow. Seokmin sighs and swings his legs over the side of the bed, bare feet touching the cold, slightly dented flooring. He’s already crossing the hall when you rip the bathroom door open, towel wrapped around you, still dripping.

“Fix it,” you growl at him, soap still foamy in your hair. “I can’t prove it, but I know it's your fault.”

“I was on my bed reading!”

You narrow your eyes. “Even more suspect.” 

Fifteen minutes later, he’s crouched in the generator shed again, this time at the breaker box trying to read his own scrawled notes, cluttered switch labels and marker that’s rubbed off. You stand behind him towel drying your hair, assuring him that you just want to make sure he does it right. 

He messes with a switch, followed by a faint click. You run to the shed door, sticking your head out to look at the Station.

You cheer, signalling that the lights are back on inside. You turn to him, crossing your arms. “I rescind my accusation. You are moderately useful.”

He rolls his eyes, rising to his feet and brushing dust off his knees. But he doesn’t miss the way your smile tugs sideways, damp lashes casting little shadows down your cheeks. His fingers linger on the metal of the switch box just a second too long, tingling from the static, or maybe from something else entirely.

 ━━▲━━

LOCATION… STATION 0218, THE TILT

DATE … SATURDAY, DECEMBER 28, 8099

WEATHER … CLEAR SKIES, 56 DEGREES FAHRENHEIT

DAYS WITHOUT MACHINE ENCOUNTER … THREE 

The sky is a broken fire above you, gold spilling into orange, bleeding into a deep indigo that smudges the edges of the desert. Long shadows crawl across the sand and crawl up the walls of the Station like ghosts. Everything smells like heat still clinging to the metal roof and the sharp scent of ozone from a power relay down below.

Seokmin’s still in his boots. You aren’t. You’re barefoot on the roof, skin dusted with grit, ankles smudged with grease from rechecking the solar relay. There’s a portable speaker propped up on an overturned crate beside you. It whines for a second before it finds its footing

You say you like the wind blowing through your hair

Come on, roll with me 'til the sun goes down

Texas sun

Seokmin squints into the dying light, one hand lifted to block the sun as he watches you. You don’t say anything. You just turn your head slightly and offer him your hand. It’s not the first time you’ve touched him, but this feels like a new thing entirely.

You’re serious?” Seokmin says.

You don’t answer, just take his hand, tug him up to his fit. He’s stiff, all elbows and unsure angles, heavy boots thunking awkwardly on the corrugated metal. His armor’s been stripped off for the night, just the undersuit clinging to him like a second skin. He doesn't know where to put his hands, or how to move his feet. His training never included anything like this.

But then your hands find his, one at your hip, one twined with yours. You start to sway. It’s barely a dance. More like a strange, stumbling rhythm you both fall into. A side-to-side step, uneven and unsure. Like you’re making it up with every beat. 

Because you are. Because you’ve never danced either.

You were born into the wires of a machine hive. You’ve never seen anyone dance. And Seokmin? He’s spent every moment of his existence killing. Executing targets. Patrolling edges. He has no idea how to dance either, but he likes the way you do it.

He likes everything you do. 

The music folds over you both, soft and slow, washing the world away. His boots scrape clumsily against the roof, but you don’t flinch. You just move with him like none of it matters.

He can feel you breathing. The shape of your exhale brushing against his neck, the warmth of your body bleeding into his. You look up at him, and the sun catches in your eyes like a flare, and he suddenly can’t look away.

He’s not thinking about protocol. Or the perimeter alarms. Or the mission logs that haven’t been updated in days. He’s thinking about how you smile when you're trying not to. How your fingers fit into his. How he let a war machine walk free days ago - let it pass, unquestioned, unchallenged - because you told him to.

Seokmin listens to you. It’s like a new programming he cannot shake. But he doesn’t mind, content to follow your lead, to follow your dance. 

“I’m not sure we’re doing this right,” he murmurs.

“Maybe we’re not. But I like it.”

He wants to say something else. Maybe something about how his entire world has unraveled in your hands. How his rules don’t make sense anymore. How he’s not sure if he’s still the weapon they built, or if he’s becoming something else entirely.

Instead, he just lets the sun drop below the horizon. Lets the music curl around you both like a cocoon. Lets you press in close, your bare feet stepping on the toes of his boots, your nose brushing his collarbone. 

He swallows hard. 

Caressing you from Fort Worth to Amarillo

Come on, roll with me 'til the sun dips low

Texas sun

As the song comes to an end, the sun slips beneath the horizon like it’s trying to hide. You’re still in his arms, not dancing anymore but swaying slightly, like your body hasn’t realized the music’s gone. He feels the weight of your head against his chest. Your hand curled against his side. Your breath, soft and steady.

Seokmin doesn’t know what to do with that.

He forces himself to move. A breath. A step back. Your arms fall away, and it leaves him cold in a way he doesn’t want to examine. You don’t seem bothered. You just step over to the edge of the roof and sit, legs dangling, silhouetted against the faint purple fade of evening. He follows, dropping down beside you, boots thudding against the ledge.

The stars begin to show themselves, pricked through the thinning light, sharp and bright in the open sky. Neither of you speak for a while. Seokmin glances sideways. You’re watching the sky, knees pulled up, chin resting on them. You look peaceful. Or like you’re trying to be.

He shifts, arms draped loosely over his own knees. “Have you ever seen stars like this before?”

“No. I could look at them forever.”

It feels cruel, suddenly, that for years, he was able to see this sky every night. That it’s yours now too, but only because you ran. Because you escaped. He thinks about Orin - of Zahra. 

“I used to think this work meant something,” he says, the words small and hoarse in his throat. “Killing the machines. Keeping the edges clear.”

You turn slightly toward him, but don’t speak. You let him find it. He turns his head slowly. You’re watching him, and it hits him all over again, how close you are. How gently you look at him. Like you already know what he’s afraid to admit.

“I think that was all a mistake.” 

The quiet that follows is thick. Heavy. Then, you break it with a soft voice. “You’re more than what they made you.”

It carves through him.

That’s the thing about you, though. You always find the exact place where he’s weakest, where he’s aching, and you press your words there like salve. You don’t even seem to realize how you do it. It’s just in the way you look at him. In the way you see him, not as an Outrider or someone confused about their loyalty to the Alliance, but Seokmin.

The way he always dreamed of someone seeing him, of knowing him. 

It makes him feel human and it terrifies him because fuck he likes you. More than he should. More than he knows how to carry. It keeps him up at night, lying in his room, hand behind his head, staring at the dark ceiling. Wondering what your hand would feel like in his again. What it would mean if you wanted it there.

And now, in the stillness, with your face turned to the stars and your body leaning just barely toward his, he starts to wonder if you feel it too or if that’s just the years’ worth of loneliness making him starving for you. 

You’re quiet, but your eyes are bright, fixed on him in a way that steals his breath. The corner of your mouth twitches like you’re fighting a smile. Your fingers, resting near your knee, are so close to his he swears he can feel the heat of them.

“Thank you,” he says, and it comes out low and rough.

You look at him for a long second, and then you lean your head to his shoulder. You don’t say anything. You don't really have to. He doesn’t dare move, doesn’t dare to breathe too hard, afraid you’ll vanish like the mirage that haunted what feels like ages ago.

Instead, he lets you rest your head against him under the stars, wondering what would happen if he turned his head just a little and kissed your hair. Wondering what else he’s allowed to want now that he’s finally starting to believe he deserves it.

 ━━▲━━

LOCATION… STATION 0218, THE TILT

DATE … TUESDAY, DECEMBER 30, 8099

WEATHER … CLEAR SKIES, 60 DEGREES FAHRENHEIT

DAYS WITHOUT MACHINE ENCOUNTER … FIVE 

Night sky stretches over amber sands. Seomkin is fiddling with a pipe under the sink while music plays through the speakers and you’re somewhere outside fiddling with a sensor on the workbench. He has the door open, risking the sand just so it can feel like you’re both in the same room. 

Something metal clangs outside followed by a yelp and a curse. He’s outside before he’s even realized he’s moving, stepping through the door and sweeping to where you sit on the workbench. You’ve got the casing to a sensor half-pried open and your left hand clutched to your chest, blood seeping between your fingers. 

“Ugh, what happened?” 

You try to wave him off. “It’s nothing, just slipped.” 

He sees the jagged piece of metal you broke off. Your hand is scarlet, the metal having bit through your skin, opening it up. 

“That’s not nothing.”

You protest, “I was careful-” 

You falter when he reaches for your wrist. Your skin is warm and trembling under his touch. The moment stretches, taut. Neither of you speak for a beat too long, your eyes darting up to meet his. There’s something electric in it, something unsaid that hums between your bodies. But the blood still shines in the light, and Seokmin exhales tightly.

“Come on,” he murmurs, guiding you gently but firmly back toward the Station. “We need to clean that.”

You don’t fight him. You just follow, your shoulder brushing his every few steps. It’s only when he gets you inside back to the old medical bay turned into your bedroom that the tension comes back full force. The room smells faintly of antiseptic and the lavender sachet you keep tucked near your pillow. The bed’s unmade, the sheets slightly rumpled. 

“Sit,” he says, nodding to the bed.

You do, cradling your hand. He kneels in front of you, his fingers deft as he opens the med kit he pulls from where you’ve shoved it in a cabinet to make room for all the clothes you’ve stolen from him. His pulse drums louder the longer he’s near you, feeling how close you are, watching him like you trust him with more than just fixing your hand. 

“Let me see,” he says, and you slowly uncurl your fingers.

The cut is long, but not deep. Still, it’s raw and angry, and the skin around it is already puffing with inflammation.

He dips a cloth in the alcohol solution, glancing up once. “This’ll sting.”

“I’ve had worse.”

He snorts, shaking his head. You’re not wrong about that, but he doesn’t want to think about the first time he brought you in here, unconscious and bleeding and broken. 

Your breath catches when he presses the cloth to your palm and your other hand tightens in the sheets. Seokmin keeps his focus steady, jaw tense as he wipes away the blood, but every second feels like it’s coiling tighter between you. Your knees bracket his body. Your breath lifts and falls, shallow, your eyes pinned to his mouth. He feels the shift, the very moment something inside the room tips.

“You okay?” he asks, quieter now.

He looks up. Your face is inches from his. Your lips parted slightly, skin flushed. You nod. “You’re being gentle.”

And then his knuckles brush your thigh accidentally as he reaches for the bandage roll, and you breathe in sharply. Softly. A small, involuntary sound that is almost a whimper in the back of his throat and it makes him fucking dizzy. 

“Fuck,” he breathes, eyes darkening. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Make that sound.” 

Your mouth pops shut. You let him finish wrapping your hand in silence, but the air is charged now, something sizzling. He can barely see, can barely hear the way his pulse is throbbing in his ears. You’re so close to him, smelling like his soap, the lavender from your sheets fucking intoxicating.

He goes to stand but your knees tighten, pinning against his shoulders, squeezing him so that he doesn’t stand, but rather is pinned in place. He looks up at you. Your eyes are blown, chest rising and falling with quick breaths, tongue darting out to wet your lips. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” he murmurs, voice shaky. 

“Like what?”

“Like… you want something. Me, maybe. I don’t know.”

“And if I do?”

Seokmin finally snaps. 

He surges up, his hands cradling your face, and kisses you. It’s not clean or practiced. Your lips collide with a kind of desperation, the kind that’s been weeks in the making, the kind that has been haunting his every dream and thought from the moment he realized you weren’t just a salve to his loneliness - you were something else that he wanted. 

Desperately. 

You gasp against his mouth, and his arms wrap around your waist, dragging you closer, pulling you off balance and onto him as he stumbles back onto the floor and your knees land on either side of his thighs. His hands are everywhere - your face, your waist, the small of your back. Touch-starved, wild, aching. He cannot ever remember touching someone before and he’s glad, trying to burn the way you feel into his memory so that it can never be taken away. 

“Seokmin,” you murmur, breaking the kiss with a gasp as his mouth trails down, grazing the line of your jaw, your neck, your collarbone through the open neck of your shirt. 

You whine, squirming in his arms and he panics, pulling back. “Shit,” he curses. “Sorry, I didn’t-”

You interrupt his apology, turning his fear that he’d done something you didn’t want into a groan as you claw at him. Your whine hadn’t been a protest but a plea. His heartbeat thunders, drowning out everything but you. Your lips slide against his, warm and messy, a tangled clash of tongues and heat, and he groans, raw, the sound swallowed by your mouth.

Your hands fist his shirt, yanking him closer. His hands roam, greedy and starving, one slipping under your loose shirt to trace your spine’s warm curve, the other digging into your hip, sinking into soft flesh. He breaks the kiss, panting, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your jaw, your neck, teeth grazing your pulse, tasting salt and sweetness. You shudder and slide your fingers into his hair, twisting and tugging hard. 

“Fuck,” he mutters, muffled against your collarbone, nose brushing the soft skin of your throat, inhaling you. You smell like lavender and salt. “You being here has haunted me for months.”

“Do you want me to leave?” Your voice is raspy, gasping as he squeezes you tighter. 

“No. Never.”

He stands suddenly, lifting you, your legs wrapping around his waist, pressed flush against him. Clumsy, desperate, he stumbles to the bed, your lips hungry, kissing him until his head spins. He lowers you, mattress creaking underneath your shared weight. 

You drag your hands under his shirt and he lets out a throaty sound. It feels so fucking good having someone touch him like this, having someone want to touch him like this. Sexual release isn’t a foreign concept to him, but this sort of untamable lust is, the desire to give and to take and to want - it’s new and it’s overwhelming and he feels drunk. 

Seokmin peels the shirt from your sun-warmed skin. He groans, kissing his way to the soft swell of your chest, pressing his tongue flat to your skin to drag toward an aching nipple. His tongue flicks tentatively over a nipple and when you whine for him, he turns greedy. He sucks it into his mouth, warm and wanting, watching as you writhe under him while he swirls his tongue around your pert bud. 

Your nails bite into his back. He doesn’t care. He only separates from you when you growl at him to take his shirt off, your hands clawed and forceful as you yank his shirt up and over his head. 

Seeing you laying on the mattress, shirtless, skin pebbled from the cold, nipples hard and aching, skin glistening in his spit nearly makes him come in his pants. He has never wanted anyone this bad - never wanted anyone period, that he knows of. It’s just you that he wants, his desire for you spilling through the very seams of him.

Ducking back down, he presses open-mouthed kisses to your stomach, sinking lower. He hooks his fingers in your pants as he goes - his pants - tugging them sharply down your legs. He adds them to the growing pile of clothes in the corner of your room, ignoring how you keep forgetting to do laundry in favor of pressing his hands against the softness of your thighs to open you.

Your glistening folds makes his breath catch, heart pounding. He’s never done this. Not really sure if he’s supposed to, really, but he wants to taste you - needs to taste you. He bides his time, nervous. Instead of pressing his tongue through your cunt the way he wants to, he kisses the insides of your thighs, sucking soft flesh between his teeth. 

It makes you insane for him. You squirm under him, grabbing at the sheets, grabbing at him, panting so hard he thinks you might pass out. He mouths his way up to your slick heat and gives in, pressing his tongue flat as he licks a broad, slow stripe up your pussy. 

Both of you make broken sounds, him at the headiness of you on his tongue, you at the feeling. He does it again, watching you this time, entranced with the way you twitch under him, fisting the sheets, eyes squeezing shut as you pant under him. 

“Fuck,” he breathes heavily. 

He licks you from top to bottom, slow and inquisitive. He savors you, loves the way you melt in his mouth. He gives a gentle suck and likes the way it makes you sound, so he does it again, alternating between sucking at you gently and rolling his tongue in circles over your cunt. 

His tongue flicks, precise, and you shudder, thighs clamping his head, fingers tugging his hair. He dives deeper, pressing his tongue into your entrance, nose brushing your clit. He can’t get enough of you, watching through heavily-lidded eyes as you come apart under his mouth. 

 “Seokmin,” you gasp, and he hums.

He can tell you’re on the edge of spilling over, your eyes squeezed shut, your legs closing around his shoulders. Your head thrashes and he goes for it, sucking harshly at your clit as your hips lift off the bed, a squeak leaving your mouth. 

Your first orgasm hits. He tongues you through it, gentle until you’re shaking and pulling away from him, whining and voice cracking. He eases up, content to roll his tongue in lazy circles around your clenching hole. He licks up every drop of you, feels it running down his chin, and doesn’t care.

He wants more. 

“Can you take more?” He asks, licking his lips. His voice is deep, feral in a way he’s never heard. “I want to give you more.”

“I don’t know,” you gasp, letting him press your thighs further apart. He kisses your cunt gently, avoiding too much stimulation, but gives you something, giving himself something. You sigh, sagging on the bed before you eventually nod. “I can.”

He might love you. Seokmin sucks at you softly, rubbing his hands up your thighs gently to soothe you. Your hips cant against him and he thinks he could do this for the rest of his life, drinking in the taste of you, hearing you fall apart again and again. 

He keeps that slow pace for a while, content to drag his tongue up and down your cunt, letting you shiver in the aftershocks of your orgasm. Slowly, he picks up his pace, sucking your clit into his mouth gently until your grip on him is bone-bruising tight. 

“Seokmin, fuck, I can’t-” you start, dissolving into a cry as your second orgasm crashes into you. It’s harder this time but he doesn’t care, mouthing you until you’re spent and shaking and pushing at him. 

He crawls up, kissing you hard, letting you taste yourself, and you moan. You drop your hands to his pants, desperate for him in a way that sets his entire world on fucking fire. You're both panting when he finally pulls back, his lips slick and red from kissing you, from tasting you. His breath fans against your cheek as he leans over you, pressing his forehead to yours.

You’re flushed and wrecked beneath him, thighs still trembling from your second orgasm, your fingers tangled in the waistband of his pants like you’ll go mad if he doesn’t give you more. 

“Please,” you beg. He has no idea what you’re asking for, isn’t even sure if you know what you’re asking for.

He kisses you again, slow and open-mouthed, like he’s trying to memorize the feel of you. Like he needs to. And you melt under it, whining into his mouth as your hips roll up against the hard length of him, still trapped behind too much fabric.

He groans, breaking the kiss to rest his weight on his forearm beside your head, his free hand still gripping your thigh. “Is this what you want?”

“Yes.” He hesitates. You soften, pulling your hands back. “Do you want? We can stop whenever.”

“Of course I do,” he laughs, throaty. “You have no idea. I don’t have preventatives or anything. Those uh - don’t come down in the supply shipments.”

“I don’t know what that is.”

It occurs to him that of course you don’t. He doesn’t even know how he knows, just that he does. “I’m trying not to get you pregnant.” 

“Oh.” You chew your lip. “Can you just… pull out?”

He’s endeared by the way you ask. He nods, dragging his mouth along your jaw, peppering you with kisses. He supposes he could do that. Isn’t sure what else to do, given the situation. Getting to have sex isn’t exactly in the Outrider handbook and he’s making it up as he goes. 

“I trust you.” His whole body shudders. Your hand rises to his face, cupping his jaw. “I want you. I’ve wanted you. Please.” 

This time when he kisses you, it’s soft. Meaningful. Saying everything he’s wanted to say the last few nights but can’t. Admitting how he felt that night on the roof, dancing as the sun set. Spilling the way he felt when you curled up on the couch and listened to him read after giving up on learning how yourself. Admitting the way he dreamed of you, even if it wasn’t quite you he had been dreaming of at the time. 

You work at the button on his pants between kisses, clumsy and rushed. You finally manage, shoving them down just enough to free his cock. He’s harder than he’s ever been, so much that it’s almost painful. The moment your hand brushes him - bare, flushed, hard - he gasps, dropping his forehead to your shoulder with a groan.

“Shit,” he breathes, trembling as you wrap your fingers around him. Your grip is light, unsure. He is twitching, leaking into your hand as you drag your fingers up and down his shaft. “No one’s ever touched me. No one’s ever - fuck - you’re the first. The only.” 

“You’re only the seventh person I’ve ever met in my life, and I definitely have never touched any of them.”

He laughs, throaty. “Then we’ll figure this out together.”

You complain when he pulls away from you to kick his pants the rest of the way off. He clucks his tongue at you, giving you a narrowed eye look that makes you pout. But you wait for him, eyes glued to the way he grips the base of his cock and pumps himself, spreading his precum to make his skin slick. 

Seokmin curses under his breath as he knees onto the bed and guides himself to your entrance, and pauses. He feels the way your cunt flutters against the crown of his cock and it makes him light-headed. He kisses you again, slow this time, full of something that borders on reverence. On what he swears could be love, given time. Then he pushes in slowly, the stretch pulling gasps from you both. You’re warm and wet and fuck. You’re unbelievably tight, struggling to take him.

He goes slow. Pauses to let you breathe along the way, hearing the way your breath comes out in short, labored hisses as he sinks in inch-by-inch. He does this at your pace, watching each time you nod and let him push in more until his hips are pressed flushed to your ass, buried into your heat all the way. 

You quake under him. He doesn’t move, hearing the discomfort in your voice. Instead, he catches your mouth with his, kissing you slowly, tongues tangling. He takes one of your hands, lacing your fingers and pins it above your head, letting your twined hands ground him. 

Your nails dig into his shoulders. “I’m okay,” you whisper, urging him.

He moves tentatively. When you don’t immediately make him stop, he sets a slow and steady pace, pulling all the way out before sinking back in, drawing weak sounds from both of you. Each thrust answered by a honey-dipped moan from your mouth. He loses himself to it, dropping his head to your shoulder as he fights to keep himself collected. He fucks you deep and steady, both of you barely able to breathe as his cock drags along your walls. 

“Seokmin,” you gasp. You’re fucked out, lashes fluttering, barely aware you’re whispering his name over and over again.

After going so long with never hearing his name, he never wants you to stop. Wants to hear you say it every day, wants to pull it from you like this, gasping, moaning, messy. 

Your legs wrap around him, pulling him deeper, and he groans, the angle letting him sink fully, each thrust a spark. The tension coils and he feels the way his body is seizing, cock jumping as he quickens his pace. Your shallow breaths signal you’re close and you’ve gone boneless, hand squeezing his as your hips twitch upward, seeking another release. 

Finally, you shatter, pleasure rippling through you, your pussy clenching so tight around him he nearly breaks his promise and comes inside. He’s close, nearly bursting at the seams, but holds back, letting you pulse around him through your high until you’re coming back down. 

He pulls out and you whimper, making him shake his head because of course you want more. He strokes himself, slick with you, throbbing in his hand until he comes, spilling his release hot across your thigh. His entire body shudders, cock pulsing until he has nothing left to give. 

“Fuck,” he pants, forehead to yours, hand on your hip, grounding. 

You’re both breathing hard, bodies tangled, bare skin pressed so tightly it feels like you’re sharing the same heartbeat. Seokmin is still above you, his weight braced on trembling arms as he hovers just enough not to crush you. He presses kisses to your cheek, your jaw, your shoulder, mapping all the places he wants to kiss again and again. 

He starts to shift, intending to get up and wipe the come from your leg. You panic, grabbing at him. “Don’t go.”

He stills, eyes searching yours. “I’m not,” he murmurs. “I wasn’t. Just want to wipe the come off your leg.”

“Oh. Proceed.”

He huffs a laugh and shakes his head, diving to grab a towel from your laundry pile to smear it across your thigh until it’s gone. You tug him down to the bed as soon as he’s done and he tries not to land on you, hitting the bed awkwardly.

“I am trying not to crush you, you know?” 

You laugh under your breath, but it’s soft. Fragile. “You’re so careful with me.”

“I don’t know how to be anything else,” he admits. “Not with you.” 

“I’m not made of glass.”

“I know you’re not, trust me. But it doesn’t mean you have to be treated like metal all the time.”

Seokmin thinks of the first night he saw you, bloody and smelling of metal, screaming and bruised and a little broken but vicious none the same, ready to fight. He doesn’t know a lot about your world, but he knows it was all machinery and fire, brutal and hard. 

He sees your expression soften as you come to the same conclusion he has. “Fine,” you amend. “Continue.”

You curl into him, tucking your head under his chin. He wraps an arm around you, palm splaying across your lower back, grounding. You stay like that for a while. Neither of you speaks. Neither of you needs to. He reaches for your injured palm, brushing his thumb over the pink-stained gauze. 

“It doesn’t hurt,” you promise.

“Would you tell me if it did?” You shrug and he rolls his eyes. “Come on,” he urges gently. “Let’s shower.” 

“Carry me.” He gives you a look and you grin.. “Glass treatment, remember?” 

 ━━▲━━

LOCATION… STATION 0218, THE TILT

DATE … THURSDAY, JUNE 8, 8100

WEATHER … HEAVY RAIN, 68 DEGREES FAHRENHEIT

DAYS WITHOUT MACHINE ENCOUNTER … THIRTEEN

The rain comes in soft at first. Barely more than mist on the wind. But it thickens as the day wears on, turning into a steady rhythm against the metal roof of the Station. It smells like earth and static, music playing over the speakers, the same old song you both have come to love. 

Say you wanna hit the highway while the engine roars

Well, come on, roll with me 'til the sun goes down

That Texas sun, oh yeah

Seokmin stands by the window, watching the rain bead along the glass. It doesn’t happen often, this kind of weather. But lately, everything feels like a slow unraveling of what used to happen. What used to be. What used to matter.

Caressing you from Fort Worth to Amarillo

Come on, roll with me 'til the sun dips low

Texas sun

Behind him, you’re sitting at the kitchen table, lit by the halo of the lamp you dragged over to turn it into your makeshift workbench. Wires snake around your feet, and the interference device you’ve been working on is slowly taking shape: a copper coil, repurposed military tech, a handheld transponder cannibalized from a buried drone. 

When I'm far from home and them cold winds blow

Stuck out somewhere with folks I don't know

'Cause you keep me nice and you keep me warm

Wanna feel you on me, can't wait to get back there again

You’ve been trying to work on something to help reroute machines. Not destroy them or disable them, but to guide them. Seokmin can only let so many go unchecked through the Tilt, and there was that one Gloom that wasn’t friendly a few weeks ago that you’d helped him put down. 

Seokmin’s chest aches a little when he watches you work. Your hair’s a little damp from stepping outside earlier, and your sleeves are pushed to your elbows, grease staining your skin. You’ve made this Station your home - make it feel like his home, after never having felt that way before. 

He’s about to tell you that when a sudden sound shatters the air. A high-pitched frequency screams out of the device. He freezes. His breath cuts short in his chest. It’s like something clamps down behind his ribs, not pain, not even fear, but response. A reflex. His limbs go still, fingers twitch once like he's waiting for a command. His vision tunnels, sound dulls to a cotton-muffled throb.

Seokmin is nowhere. 

System halt.

He doesn’t think. Doesn’t dream.

System halt. 

Then, warmth. Your hands are on his face, thumb brushing over the hinge of his jaw. You speak, barely above the soft patter of rain on the roof. “Seokmin. Seokmin, hey. It’s okay. Look at me.”

He blinks, breath hitching, and then his eyes find yours. The static inside him breaks like glass underfoot. He inhales hard, one step back from whatever edge that was. One breath away from something he doesn't understand.

“I-” His voice croaks. “Sorry, that was weird.” 

Texas sun

Texas sun

Your expression softens. Still close. Still touching him like it’s second nature. “Sorry, I should have known. Sorry, I won’t do that again.” 

You say it gently, like you’re talking about the weather. Like you didn’t just catch him spiraling into a shutdown. But Seokmin hears the rain again, and now it’s louder than the frequency ever was. The smell of rust, rain, and your skin pulls him back to earth.

Texas sun, oh

Texas sun

He nods slowly. Swallows. And then the thought blooms quietly, horribly: He hadn’t frozen like a man. He’d frozen like a machine.

And you’d kissed him and apologized with a gentle I should have known. 

You say you like the wind blowing through your hair

Well, come on, roll with me 'til the sun goes down

Texas sun

Texas sun

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[slightly-knot-insane]

Centaur Riding Class (part 1)

Monstertober 2024 - day 28 [ Greek Mythology ] by @/ozzgin

[ centaur x fem!reader ]

a/n: this is a mini choose your own adventure fic! please vote in the end, let's see who will you end up with :3 content: sfw

Your dear friend insisted on getting some horse-riding lessons. It will be fun, she said. It will occupy your mind, she insisted. And god knows you needed some distraction after that nasty break-up.

What you didn't expect was a centaur riding school. And it's a huge fancy place with massive centaur-oriented houses, porches and pools, and large fields everywhere.

"Don't worry, it's a special place," she winks. You are now not only suspicious but alarmed. Where did she bring you to? As you enter the estate, you notice that both people and centaurs are wearing bathing suits. Wait. No, those are... underwear? And some have nothing at all!

"They are naked!" Your friend clicks with her tongue and pushes you further and into the biggest building, telling you to shut up and stop worrying.

As you enter, you're greeted with a beautiful mare. No, no, they are not mares, they are women! You remember your other friend who dated a centaur told you that centaur folk don't like being called mares and stallions. It's kinda offensive... until you get to bed them. Then it's, apparently, a big turn-on. Do centaurs even have beds?

"Hey!" Your friend snaps her fingers in front of your face. "Stop daydreaming and tell madam what are your preferences."

"Madam? Preferences?"

The lady centaur in front of you delightfully giggles, her long horse legs crossing each other in a rather human-looking way. "So this is your first time in our fine establishment." It wasn't a question.

"I would love to treat her with some free classes." A very handsome stall... I mean, centaur man leans against the wall, eyeing you with a smirk. His black hair and skin are so beautiful and shiny. He must be oiled with something, nobody can glisten like that. He wears a rather posh shirt and vest but they cling to his body like a second skin. You hope nobody noticed you wiping off your drool.

"Oh, our best mentor offers his services?" The madam rolls her eyes playfully. "I thought you weren't interested in any more work today."

"Well..." He flashes a quick smile and his eyes meet yours. "I am now."

"What a schmoozer, oh dear, oh dear, I'm gonna faint!" A muscular female centaur enters the room wiping her neck with a towel while feigning awe. She's only wearing a sports bra, and her exposed abs are covered in sweat. And soon you are. She sticks her tongue out at the male centaur. "Be direct and say that she's super cute and want to mentor her - like I do." She winks and her smile lights up her whole face so that her bright red hair looks like fire.

"I thought you will go home after gym?" Madam asks her and crosses her arms.

"That's true. But if our new visitor decides she wants to give me a chance, I'll take a quick shower and show her some useful moves." Is she flirting with you too?

"Now who's a schmoozer?" The man shakes his head.

Madam looks at you and smiles a graceful elven smile. Can centaurs be elves, too? "Well, these two are our most excellent mentors. I warmly recommend their services and experience. And since they are quite interested, I guess your first time will be on the house. Who will it be?"

[ part 2 ]

[h4m1lt0ns]

HEARTBREAK SYNDROME.

episode sixteen :: BABY DEER

꒰꒰◌‧₊ ⬪˙⋆ pairing ︴various drivers x y/n

꒰꒰◌‧₊ ⬪˙⋆ genre ︴social media au / irl snippets

꒰꒰◌‧₊ ⬪˙⋆ summary ﹔y/n finally takes a well deserved break, but leaves everyone with one last song for the year.

꒰꒰◌‧₊ ⬪˙⋆ face claim ﹔ wonyoung jang (28)

꒰꒰◌‧₊ ⬪˙⋆ warnings ﹕ cussing, light angst, none.

t

☆ IMESSAGE with ; BOARD OF DIRECTORS

babygirl alex: wait

babygirl alex: so to summarise what this 3 hour zoom meeting

babygirl alex: HE’S upset because you asked a rational question and decided to push YOU away????

y/n: basically yeah

honey badger: lewis hamilton.

honey badger: lewis hamilton when i catch you

my baby lando: when i fucking catch you lewis hamilton

chal eclair: wtf is his problem

yukino: no like why

PIERRE GASLYYYY: what would push him to even think like this

girlfriend kika: one thing a man will have is the god damn audacity 😒

angel carmen: amen

princess george: exactly

chili!: genuinely what was the reason

papaya baby #2: y/n are you okay?

y/n: no

y/n: that actually fucking hurt me

babygirl alex: my poor baby 💔☹️

my baby lando: it’s on sight when i see him istg.

angel carmen: do you want us to come over? alex and i are close by

y/n: no, it’s okay, thank you tho

y/n: i’m meeting up with seb later, gonna talk to him

y/n: i’m busy for the rest of the week, i have grammy rehearsals so i’ll be in the US

albono: yeah, it’s probably best if you stay out of monaco for a bit

chili!: ^^^

chal eclair: yeah, but we’re always here when you need us

y/n: i know, and i love you guys

y/n

♡ liked by alexandrasaintmleux, landonorris, and 10,382,294 others.

y/n what a year. can’t say it was amazing, nor can i say that it was awful. it was a learning experience to be fully honest. major lows and phenomenal highs, different places, different people, so much seen and heard. this year genuinely re-wired my brain. and to end it with six grammys, i couldn’t be more thankful 💕 i’ve said this so many times, and i mean it more and more each time, thank you —truly, humbly, and from the depths of my heart. for everything. for the love, the support, the messages, the energy, for every time you showed up, for everything you did and every word you said 🫀🫂 i’m so grateful to have all of you by my side, to know that all of you will always have my back 💌 i’m sending you nothing but love and light, and i’m wishing you growth and warmth as we enter this next year. i love you. always. forever. ♾️🤍 very deerly 🦌

tagged: sebastianvettel

the comments have been disabled.

y/n and y/l/nestate

♡ liked by alexandrasaintmleux, carmenmmundt, and 5,204,104 others.

y/l/nestate and for her last trick, y/n secretly worked on a new song over grammy weekend. just one last song for the last month of the year. the newest single “baby deer” comes out at 12:00 am EST, december 1st. set your alarms 🤍🦌🪽. have a well deserved break our deerest y/n <3

view 492,593 comments.

username and the crowd… the crowd burst into tears???

username you ain’t had to release this one brochacho 💔

username “SHE’S HAPPY! SHE’S NOT HEARTBROKEN AGAIN!” i scream as they drag me back to the padded room 😞

username ho did you just stab me

username “but i adore than man, like nobody can, he moves mountains and pounds them to ground again” hey so like, stand up maybe????

username me when i play the song of fucking pure heartbreak

username DIVA DOWN!!!!!! I REPEAT. DIVA DOWN!!!!!!!

username name dropping seb is crazy btw

alexandrasaintmleux 🫂🤍🫂🤍🫂🤍

username WHY ARE WE BACK TO SAD SONGS AGAIN

username hey so how about we not do this 😀

username i just started crying i dont even know why 😭😭

username wait sO WHO IS THIS ABOUT?????

→ username HAS to be lewis. HAAAAS TO BE.

→ username it’s abt m4x i fear

→ username there’s no way she’s still singing about max

→ username deadass this could be about any of the dilfs lowkey

username WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS ME TO ME 💔💔💔

username where does she keep finding these villains oh my god

username may this kind of situationship never find me

charles_leclerc 🦌🦌🦌❤️❤️❤️

username shaking ass to c,s&a then this comes on shuffle 😞

username 💔💔💔💔💔💔WHY💔💔💔💔💔💔💔

sebastianvettel 💐💐💐

→ username wHAT DO YOU KNOW

→ username TALK HOE

username guys i think we know who the perpetrator is ☹️

→ username right. bc who else has bambi eyes

→ username i’m gonna have to turn a blind eye bc i ship them hard

username she said i watch “my” baby deer. dear god why. 🫩

username NAME DROPPING SEBASTIAN?? wtf does he know

username i’m glad she’s on break bc this is getting out of hand

→ username i’m gonna hold ur hand when i say this.. it’s time to stop dating for a while 🫱🏽‍🫲🏼🫱🏽‍🫲🏼🫱🏽‍🫲🏼

→ y/n you’re probably right

→ username OH?

→ username UHMMMMMMM.

mercedesamgf1 and y/l/nestate

♡ liked by alexandrasaintmleux, carmenmmundt, and 4,204,104 others.

marcedesamgf1 Y/n Y/l/n has decided not to renew her contract as the ambassador for the Mercedes AMG Formula One team for the 2025 season. More on our website.

comments on this post have been disabled.

[a-d-nox]

venus signs: what they really want in a relationship?

i am watching gossip girl for the first time and s2 is a mess lol - the duchess told blair she wants nate because he makes her feel alive... of course that made me start to wonder, "what is this lady's venus sign that she would say such a thing?" BOOM - fire venus, like a sagittarius venus, in my opinion. then my thinking spiraled from there...

paid reading options: astrology menu & cartomancy menu

enjoy my work? help me continue creating by tipping on ko-fi or paypal. your support keeps the magic alive!

aries (1°, 13°, 25°) venus wants passion and pursuit. they crave the chase, spontaneity, and intensity that most love stories can give them. they want to feel wanted and excited by the prospect.

taurus (2°, 14°, 26°) venus wants comfort, stability, and sensual pleasure. they’re all about slow-burning, loyal love that feels safe and indulgent. the goal is lasting intimacy, not flashy fleeting fireworks.

gemini (3°, 15°, 27°) venus wants stimulation, curiosity, and variety. they fall for people who keep things interesting - whether it's witty convos, new ideas, and/or light flirtation. mental connection is everything to them.

cancer (4°, 16°, 28°) venus wants emotional security and comfort. they tend to be soft but protective; thusly seeking love that feels safe/familiar.

leo (5°, 17°, 29°) venus wants to be adored. they often seek out grand/dramatic relationships that makes them feel special, desired, and seen.

virgo (6°, 18°) venus wants a meaningful connection built on trust. they’re thoughtful, attentive, and seek out partners who make them feel useful, understood, and appreciated.

libra (7°, 19°) venus wants harmony and equality in their partnership. they tend to seek love that's romantic and mutual. to them, ideally, a relationship is both aesthetically pleasing and emotionally reciprocal.

scorpio (8°, 20°) venus wants intensity and depth. they crave a love that is soul-merging and all-consuming. it’s about loyalty, vulnerability, and emotional risk.

sagittarius (9°, 21°) venus wants to feel alive and free. they’re drawn to lovers who inspire, entertain, and explore the world with them. love to them is an epic journey, not a destination.

capricorn (10°, 22°) venus wants security, respect, and a solid future. they approach love with a long game mentality - they look for someone who’s reliable, impressive, and goal-aligned. romance to them is an investment.

aquarius (11°, 23°) venus wants freedom, uniqueness, and mental stimulation. they’re attracted to people who stand out, challenge norms, and let them be independent.

pisces (12°, 24°) venus wants a fantasy and a soul connection. they seek romance that’s poetic, dreamy, and otherworldly - a love that blurs the line between reality and magic.

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[heartavenue]

݁.ི Things To Script!

So you're scripting, but you're at a loss and don't know what to add anymore? Well, Love sees you, and I got you! Here are some things that I am scripting personally; some of these are a little...on the nose... but I think they're worth it nonetheless. Feel free to use them!

Disclaimer: Any similarities that you see are completely accidental. I can assure you that I came up with these off the top of my head while reflecting on my life and watching Netflix.

1. Water never gets into your ears 2. You don’t feel faint while taking hot showers (or just feel faint in general) 3. Not wearing a bra is not a big deal 4. You have a bidet 5. Parents respect your privacy (knock before entering your room, etc) 6. The word is full of color just like it was when you were a child 7. You still have that childlike sense of wonder, and it can never die 8. Flowers can regrow roots, so when they are cut they can live and not die! 9. Architecture has personality and is not drab and boring 10. Perfume lasts all day 11. Lip gloss NEVER smudges (or makeup in general) 12. Your bath/shower water never gets cold 13. You always feel heard, and people respect your opinions and consider your opinions 14. Your clothes fit you just how you picture it in your head 15. You have the money to afford the life that you DESERVE 16. Natural bodies of water don’t contain flesh/brain-eating bacteria 17. Animals aren’t endangered and can’t go extinct 18. Wildlife/nature is preserved, admired, and respected. There are national parks put in place to prevent the destruction of our home! 19. Astral events happen more often and are celebrated more! (Think eclipses, northern lights, shooting stars.) AND they are visible to all areas of the world. 20. More walkable cities near you or just in general! 21. Capitalism does NOT exist. 22. Animals can understand you when you speak to them! 23. Santa Claus, Tooth Fairy, etc. exist 24. The allure of Christmas magic is well and alive 25. The cost of living is low, and the minimum wage is $20 26. Your hair never gets tangled, greasy, or frizzy. 27. You’re allowed to express yourself in any way, whether that’s through clothes or body modifications, and no one judges you for it! 28. More festivals, carnivals in your town or neighboring towns. 29. Holidays feel the same way they did when you were a kid 30. The moon is a little closer, light pollution doesn't exist so the stars can shine brighter, and the grass is a little greener. 31. You remember when you were a kid and you thought the moon followed you? Well, now it does! 32. Disney doesn't use that horrid 3D art style, and they have the ability to produce GOOD movies again. 33. Eargasms are real. Don't ask any questions. 34. Hugs from the people that you cherish are warmer, and they last longer 35. Better day-to-day interactions with strangers that will just keep you smiling for the rest of the day 36. Food (cough cough food in AMERICA) isn't full of the toxic stuff that are banned in every other country 37. Dandruff does NOT exist 38. You never forget to put on your jewelry, you can always find your jewelry, and it's very durable 39. You're very good at karaoke 40. You never forget to put on deodorant, lotion, perfume, chapstick, etc 41. Your favorite flowers, trees, plants in general grow near you! 42. When you wash your clothes, the stains come OUT (this is so personal for me) 43. Water glimmers and shines just like it does films! 44. No hyperpigmentation. 45. Other planets are visible to the naked eye 46. Pineapple doesn't feel like acid in your mouth 47. Banana doesn't take over the whole smoothie 48. More representation in the media of marginalized groups 49. When you wash your face, water doesn't trickle down your arm 50. When you open yogurt it doesn't look like that (yk all liquid and yucky) 51. You can listen to music as loud as you want and your hearing will never be affected 52. The fruit you get is always ripe 53. No cloudy nighttime skies to get in the way of your stargazing! 54. You can never burn your tongue 55. You cook chicken thoroughly each time (I have a fear of eating raw chicken please) 56. A secret hideout for you and your special person 57. Bedbugs, lice, ticks, wasps, hornets, and yellowjackets do not exist (I love bees, let the bees STAY!) 58. Outfits that you imagine in your head comes out EXACTLY as you planned 59. Artists release live versions of their albums (chappell roan a live version of naked in manhattan is NEEDED on streaming

These are just a few things that I could think of. As I think of more, I will be sure to add them to the list. Okay happy scripting my loves! ၄၃

[buckets-and-trees]

Steve Rogers Collection

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

Unless specifically noted, all of my stories feature a female reader insert character.

dividers by my lovely og wife @vesearartistry

Series & Collections

EXILED NOMAD a series of encounters that could have happened between Civil War and Infinity War SOFT DARK, explicit smut, rough sex, emotionally damaged Steve, lonely reader

↠ July 3, 2017: When He First Got Me [2.2k] (Steve POV) ↠ July 4, 2017: You Should've Seen Him [1.2k] ↠ September 28, 2017: Pull the String [3.7k] ↠ September 28, 2017, around midnight: Put Me Back on My Shelf [750] ↠ January 2, 2018: Danger in the Heat of My Touch [2.3k] ↠ February 10, 2018: Just Say When ↠ March 10, 2018: It Fit Too Right [690] ↠ March 21, 2018: Puzzle Pieces in the Dead of Night [1.5k] ↠ April 30, 2018: I Felt More When We Played Pretend [3k] ↠ May 21, 2018: For Keeps This Time [11.7k]

CEDAR TREES a Royal AU historical romance King!Steve x Queen!Reader politically arranged marriage, reluctant pining to true and utter love, SMUT (rough fucking to fluffy and intimate sexual situations)

↠ Fire Burning From a Cedar Tree [3.4k] ↠ The Thrill of Knowing How Alone We Are [1.2k] ↠ Winter Solstice (response to an ask) ↠ Cold Hands, Warm Hearts [1.3k] ↠ A Shift in the Morning Routine [1.1k] ↠ Love That's Laid Beside Me [5k] ↠ The Silence of the Hushed Sublime [4.8k]

RED, WHITE & TRUE - complete a Steve Stays AU Presidential Candidate!Steve x Wife!Reader politically arranged marriage, slow burn, eventual smut

↠ Prologue: Upstate New York (Steve POV) [1.3k] ↠ chapter 1: Manhattan & Brooklyn [4k] ↠ chapter 2: Las Vegas & Cleveland [4k] ↠ chapter 3: Houston [3.4k] ↠ chapter 4: Fort Wayne, Toledo, Detroit [4.2k] ↠ chapter 5: DC, Tampa, Athens [6.1k] ↠ chapter 7: Brooklyn - Pre-Interview [5.8k] ↠ chapter 8: Brooklyn - The Interview [6.1k] ↠ chapter 9: Kansas City - Interview Broadcast Day [7.6k] ↠ chapter 10: Kansas to Tucson - Fallout [6.5k] ↠ chapter 11: Tucson - Refocusing [4.7k] ↠ chapter 12: Tucson & Denver - Important Conversations [6.4k] ↠ chapter 13: Pittsburgh & Harrisburg - October Surprise [9.1k] ↠ chapter 14: Boston & New York - Election Eve [9.1k] ↠ chapter 15: Election Day in New York, pt. 1 [7.2k] ↠ chapter 16: Election Day in New York, pt. 2 [5.3k] ↠ chapter 17: Election Day in New York, pt. 3 [5.8k] ↠ epilogue [2.9k]

WARM SHADOWS - complete post-endgame omegaverse AU Alpha!Bucky x omega!reader, Alpha!Captain Hydra x omega!reader, eventual Alpha!Bucky x omega!reader x Alpha!Steve DARK SMUT, tw: non con, tw: dub con, fluff beginning

↠ chapter one: When You Fall On Me Like Night [2.5k] ↠ chapter two: Let All Light Go [7.5k] ↠ chapter three: Carving Through the Dark [14.4k] ↠ chapter four: The Working of Your Hands [15.5k] ↠ epilogue: The Dawn Has Come [5.5k]

LITTLE LARK a modern mafia AU with dark elements mean Mafia!Steve x curvy Millennial Female!Reader x mean Mafia!Bucky

↠ Little Lark ↠ Bird on a Wire ↠ Bird Home in the Darkness

BUCK’S ELEVEN  a snapshot series, historical AU, Ocean’s Eleven-style heist premise Steve and Bucky and many other Avenger cameos

↠ Buck's Eleven Steve & Bucky ↠ Bookings and Rings Steve x Pan Am Stewardess Reader [600 words, light smut] ↠ Good Luck the team [600 words]

THE BROOKLYN BOYS - complete a post-endgame where Steve stays in the present rom-com drabble series, slow burn Steve x reader, Bucky x reader, eventual Stucky x reader

SERIES: ↠ 1: Bucky and the Bench ↠ 2: Steve and the Sandwich ↠ 3: Bucky and the Books ↠ 4: Steve and the Skyline ↠ 5: Bucky and the Brief Brush ↠ INTERLUDE ↠ 6: Steve and the Ballet ↠ 7: Bucky and the Shelves ↠ 8: Steve and the Blindside ↠ 9: Bucky and the Situation ↠ 10: Steve and the Best Friend ↠ EXITLUDE

MORE STORY: ↠ First Night [takes place immediately after part 10] ↠ Idle Hands [first fall/winter] ↠ Big Red Bow [a few days after their first NYE]

Double-Shots

Tiny Vessels [1.5k] + Don’t Forget You Were the One Who [1.3k] end of Endgame Steve gender neutral Reader insert, brief moments of non-graphic physical intimacy

So Black the Darkness Hums [9.1k] + Ceremonial Rituals [6.7k] + Come Down from Battle [2.4k] Viking King Steve Rogers x curvy Female!Reader DARK, viking AU, explicit smut (non-consent re: prima nocta), kidnapping

One-Shots

Peering In My Hollow Core [2.4k]  Nomad!Steve x Morally Grey f!Reader explicit smut (dubious consent re: sex pollen)

Witchview [1.3k] ignore Endgame/Steve stays, post-WandaVision, witch!reader soft!dark, smut, magic, manipulation

King [1k] mob AU

All the Pieces Fall [3.4k] unidentified male main character x female!reader modern AU, second chance, smut

Drabbles

Not Meant to Be Like This [680] + Not What I Planned At All [950] omegaverse, smut

Steve with a Breeding Kink [750] soft dark, smut, tw: dubious consent

Steve and a Dog [200]  ignore Endgame/Steve stays gender neutral reader, fluff

With You [600] fluff, potential future Neighbor!Steve scenario/chaptered work

Bodyguard Steve [400] mildly smutty, modern AU

Library Volunteer Steve [250] Steve stays AU, fluffy meet cute (with hintss of wanting smut)

Other Chris Evans Characters...

[snowysosturn]

Fire & Desire - Matt Sturniolo Part 10

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29 Finale

Pairing: Y/n x Matt Sturniolo

Summary: Y/n has always clashed with Matt. Despite working for Chris’s clothing brand and being close with Nick, her relationship with Matt has always been tense at best. While being forced to be around each other more, their animosity turns into something deeper. Can they overcome their differences, or will their fiery emotions tear them apart?

Warnings: MDNI, angst, tension

I woke up the next morning at 9.30 am, pulling the eye mask over my head as the sunlight flooded in my entryway. Stretching, I let out a yawn and checked my phone. Still no response from Matt. Not that I was expecting any after being left on read.

Brushing it off, I got up and threw on my slippers. Nick and I we going shopping at 11, and the idea of getting out of the house lifted my mood. But first I needed coffee, desperately.

I dragged my feet downstairs to the kitchen and made myself a quick breakfast, scrambled eggs on toast and coffee from the Keurig. Simple but enough to wake me up. While I ate, I doom scrolled on my phone, pausing every so often to read back over my messages with Matt. Still no reply.

I don't know why it frustrated me, I guess I just wanted answers. I rinsed my plate, set it in the dishwasher, and headed into the bathroom to get ready. It was nice to not feel rushed or that I was bothering Matt by taking my time in here. The hot water from the shower was just what I needed. I stayed under longer than usual, it was a small luxury, but I enjoyed it.

After finishing up and drying my hair, I walked back up to my room, pulling open my closet. My eyes immediately landed on the yellow Ralph Lauren jumper Nick had given me yesterday. I threw it on and paired it with my favorite jeans and white sneakers. I glanced at myself in the mirror, adjusting the jumper. It was slightly oversized but felt snug in all the right ways. I sprayed my perfume over myself to finish it all off.

“Perfect” I muttered to myself before grabbing my bag.

Nick opened his bedroom door, ready to go with an eager grin on his face. “Ready to spend some money?” he asked, holding Chris’ card up.

Nick ordered an uber and suggested we check in on Nate to see if he needed anything while we were out. I followed him down the stairs to Chris’ room. Nick gently knocked on the door before peeking inside. "Still out cold" he whispered, shaking his head with a small grin. I glanced past him and saw Nate sprawled across the bed, tangled in Chris’ blanket, looking completely unbothered by the world. 

"Kids on a two day hangover by the look of it, what did you do to him?" Nick laughed, closing the door quietly before turning to me with a shrug. 

"Don’t ask me, maybe he just can’t keep up like I can. Let’s just get him some snacks anyway, he’ll probably appreciate them when he finally wakes up."

The uber arrived an we hopped into the car, the Uber driver was really friendly and even let us have AUX. Nick seized the opportunity and started blasting one of his favorite playlists. The drive to the mall was filled with his off key singing while the driver laughed. It was impossible to be in a bad mood when Nick was like this, completely carefree and full of energy.

We arrived at the bustling mall, and I was instantly reminded of how much I loved and hated these places. The endless options were both exciting and overwhelming. Nick, of course, was in his element.

“Okay, first things first” he declared, clapping his hands together. “You need a suitcase. Like a good one, something sturdy.”

I followed him through the luggage section of a department store, pulling at the endless rows of suitcases in every size and color. I settled on a large suitcase in a turquoise shade. It was light but durable, with smooth wheels and plenty of compartments for organizing.

“This one feels very.. you” Nick said, wheeling it toward the register. “Now we just need to fill it"

Next, we headed to the clothing stores. The first thing to look for was swimwear. I sifted through racks of bikinis, one pieces, and cover ups while Nick hovered nearby, occasionally pulling something out and holding it up.

“This is cute” he said, holding a bright coral bikini against me.

“Too bright” I replied, shaking my head.

“You’re going to Hawaii! Bright is the point.”

We compromised on a mix of neutral and vibrant pieces, including a black one piece with a scoop back and a yellow bikini that Nick insisted matched the jumper he’d given me.

From there, we moved to outfits. Sundresses, flowy skirts, tank tops, and breathable shorts for getting in and out of the pool all made their way into my shopping bags. A wide brimmed sun hat and a pair of oversized sunglasses were also thrown into the mix.

“You’re going to look like you’re in a Vogue ad with those on” Nick teased as we passed the checkout.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves” I shot back, laughing.

The last thing on our list was footwear. I grabbed a pair of comfortable sandals and white sneakers that would pair well with most outfits. Nick talked me into buying a pair of wedge heels “just in case” I wanted to dress up a bit fancier for dinner.

With every bag we accumulated, the excitement for the trip grew. Nick carried most of them without complaint, weaving through the mall like a man on a mission, while I lugged the suitcase behind me.

“Shit” he said.  “We forgot toiletries. Let’s go.”

We loaded up on mini shampoo bottles, sunscreen, bug spray, and anything else that could fit into the clear bag at security. I also grabbed a neck pillow for the flight and a small blanket.

“I think we went a little overboard” I admitted, looking at everything we had.

“No such thing" Nick replied, starting the engine. “You’re going to Hawaii. You deserve to look and feel amazing! Now, shoes again” Nick declared.

“But I already got shoes” I protested.

“You don’t have these shoes” he said, dragging me into another store.

Before I knew it, I’d added a pair of espadrilles and waterproof slides to my collection. At this point, I was sure I had enough to outfit myself for a two month long trip, not just two weeks in Hawaii.

“Okay” Nick said, stretching dramatically. “I’m starving. Let’s get food.”

We headed to a nearby bistro that had outdoor seating. The warm sunshine paired with the scent baked goods was heavenly. I ordered a chicken and cheese sandwich, while Nick opted for a salad.

As we waited for our food, Nick checked his phone and grinned.

“Chris’s phone is dispatched” he said. “Should be here later today.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Finally. It’s been so weird not being able to get in touch with him directly.”

Nick nodded, taking a sip of his iced tea. “Yeah, I’d say Matt doesn't know what to do now that his phone actually gets messages.”

The mention of Matt and messages nearly makes me turn red.

“What time are they getting home today actually?” I asked, trying to sound casual.

Nick shrugged. “Sometime later tonight. They booked a nighttime flight.”

I nodded, trying not to read too much into it. The food arrived, and we dug in, enjoying the rare moment of quiet.

After finishing our meal, Nick glanced at the mountain of shopping bags we’d accumulated and let out an exaggerated sigh.

“There’s no way we’re fitting this all in a normal car.” he declared, rubbing his temples dramatically.

I laughed. “You’re the one who kept saying, ‘Oh, just get it! It’s perfect!’”

He rolled his eyes. “And I don’t regret it one bit, but let’s be real. We need reinforcements, or at least a bigger car.”

Nick pulled out his phone and started tapping away. A moment later, he said, “Uber XL. It’s the only way we’re fitting all of this and ourselves into one ride.”

I nodded in agreement, looking at the bags around us. There were at least three overflowing ones just from the boutique alone, plus the suitcase we’d bought earlier that took up a ridiculous amount of space.

“Good call” I said.

Within minutes, a shiny black mini van pulled up outside the bistro. The driver stepped out, taking one look at us and our bags, and raised an eyebrow.

“Shopping spree?” he asked with a grin.

“You could say that” Nick replied with a chuckle. 

The driver helped us load everything into the trunk, which, despite being spacious, was a tight fit. Once everything was secured, we hopped into the backseat, relieved to finally be off our feet.

As the car pulled away, Nick leaned back and sighed contentedly. “I’m never going shopping without an Uber XL again. This is the only way to do it.”

I laughed, leaning my head against the window as we cruised through the city. My thoughts drifted to Hawaii and all the outfits I’d packed for, the sunshine, the beaches. I felt a little buzz of excitement, like maybe this trip would be exactly what I needed.

We arrived home just near 3pm. Nick pushed the front door open with his hip, three shopping bags dangling from each hand, I followed closely behind, lugging the suitcase and two additional bags. The sheer weight of it all, especially the suitcase made me huff as I maneuvered it over the step into the house.

We paused just inside, catching our breath, when faint voices floated down from upstairs. My ears perked up, and I immediately recognized the voices. Chris and Matt.

Nick frowned, glancing back at me. “Are they.. here?”

“Surely not?” I replied, adjusting my grip on the suitcase. “You said their flight wasn’t supposed to land until later tonight.”

Nick shrugged, then headed up the stairs. I struggled to hoist the suitcase up the first few steps, the wheels knocking against the edges of each one.

“Could use some help here” I muttered, but Nick was already out of sight, more curious about the voices upstairs than my struggle.

By the time I reached the top, dragging the suitcase behind me, I could hear Nick questioning the guys.

“What the fuck are you two doing back so early?” he asked, standing in the hallway with a confused look.

Chris grinned, arms wide open as he stepped forward and dramatically pulled Nick into a bear hug. “What, I can’t miss my brother and come home early to see him?”

Nick groaned but didn’t pull away. “Chris you were gone for two whole days. Seriously though. What’s the deal? You weren’t supposed to land until later tonight.”

Matt leaned against the doorframe of his room, arms crossed and looking mildly amused. Chris finally released Nick and laughed.

“Man, we were so hungover yesterday that we couldn’t bear the thought of sitting around Vegas all day today waiting for a late flight. So, we booked an earlier one before we hit the strip last night” Chris explained.

Nick shook his head, muttering something about impulsiveness, before turning back toward me. “You hear that? Weak.”

I smirked, finally dropping the suitcase with a thud. Chris glanced over at me, his smile softening.

“Hey, Y/n” he greeted.

“Hey” I replied, brushing a strand of hair from my face and wondering why seeing him felt like a surprise.

As Chris glanced around, he ran a hand through his hair. "Yo, Nick, have you seen my business card? I swear I had it before we left for Vegas."

Nick smirked, clearly trying to rile him up. "I have it" he said casually, glancing at me standing there with my brand new suitcase and an absurd number of shopping bags.

Chris raised an eyebrow. "Well, can I have it back, genius?"

"Maybe" Nick teased, then pivoted. "Oh, by the way, your new phone should be here later today. You’re welcome."

I stood awkwardly at the top of the stairs, fully aware of Matt’s presence just a few feet away. He hadn’t said anything yet, but the tension was undeniable.

Finally Matt’s voice cut through the air, his tone sharper than necessary. "What’s with the suitcase? You finally moving out?"

I blinked, caught off guard by his comment. Before I could respond, Nick jumped in.

"It’s for Hawaii" Nick said as he leaned against the wall, crossing his arms casually.

Matt’s confusion was obvious, his brows furrowing deeply. "Hawaii? You already have a suitcase that size."

Nick shook his head, grinning like he was about to drop a bombshell. "It’s not for me, Einstein. It’s for Y/n."

Matt turned to me, his expression instantly hardening like he’d just been sucker punched. His eyes widened slightly, and for a moment, I swore he looked genuinely hurt.

Matt’s jaw tightened, and he looked like he wanted to argue but couldn’t find the words. His eyes flicked to me again, unreadable, before he straightened up and shoved his hands in his pockets.

"Wow some trip this is going to be then." he muttered before disappearing into his room, the door closing behind him, quiet but firm.

The hallway felt colder, and I avoided Nick’s gaze, pretending to fiddle with one of the bags. Chris, oblivious as ever, clapped Nick on the shoulder.

"Alright, where’s my card?"

Nick laughed, shaking his head. "Not so fast, bro. You’re helping me unpack this stuff first."

As the two of them headed off upstairs, I stood there, staring at Matt’s closed door, feeling a wave of something I couldn’t quite name. Guilt? Frustration? Maybe a mix of both. But I quickly shook it off and grabbed the suitcase, dragging upstairs toward my room and telling myself not to overthink it. Once everything was up in my room, Nick dropped his load dramatically on the floor, letting out an exaggerated sigh.

"Alright, that’s my good deed for the day" Chris said, brushing his hands together like the work was done.

"You’ve been so helpful" I said sarcastically as I started sorting through the bags.

Chris smirked, leaning against the doorframe. "You going to pack tomorrow?"

Nick shook his head. "Nah, we’re starting to pack now. No point in waiting till tomorrow morning and rushing."

Chris raised an eyebrow, watching me open the suitcase and start placing clothes inside. "If only I was that organised" he laughed, walking further into the room. His eyes immediately went to the Fresh Love samples hung up by the closet.

He stepped closer, tilting his head to get a better look. "Woah" he said, running his fingers lightly over one of the pieces. "These look even better in person. The photos don’t do them justice."

I glanced over at him, feeling a bit of pride in his compliment. "Thanks. I really like them.”

Chris nodded, a grin spreading across his face. "I ordered some personalized samples for us all to be delivered to our villa in Hawaii. Thought we could take some pictures out there for a night time shoot, maybe use them for promos. I got us all varsity jackets with our initial on them, and then some other pieces I thought everyone would like."

Nick perked up at that, clearly impressed. "That’s such a good idea! Especially since it's cold at night" he said, nudging me with his elbow.

I smiled at both of them, my chest swelling a bit with pride. "I guess it wouldn’t hurt to get some shots out there" I admitted, picturing how amazing the pieces would look in a tropical setting.

Chris picked up one of the sample pieces, holding it out. "Yeah, these are gonna kill it. People are gonna go nuts over this drop."

I nodded, the excitement of everything bubbling under the surface. For the first time in a while, I felt like things were coming together, and the thought of getting to share it in such a beautiful setting made it even better.

Chris set the sample back on the rack and stretched, letting out a small yawn. "Alright, I’m gonna go check in with Nate" he said, glancing toward the stairs. "He was still knocked out when I peeked into his room earlier. Probably still recovering from your crazy night out."

Nick gave him a nod. "Yeah, sounds about right.”

Chris chuckled. "I’ll catch you guys in a bit." With that, he turned and headed out of the room, the sound of his footsteps fading as he made his way downstairs.

Nick, without missing a beat, grabbed his pile of shopping bags and suitcase and walked toward his own room, which was right next to mine. “I’m leaving the door open so we can pack together. This way, I can judge your packing skills and make sure you don’t leave anything important behind."

I rolled my eyes but laughed. "Oh, because you’re the authority on packing now?"

Nick grinned as he disappeared into his room, propping his door open so we could still talk. "Absolutely. I’m a seasoned traveler, unlike you. I’ve got the technique down to a science."

I could hear him rustling through his bags, muttering about how he might need to pick up another pair of shorts before we left. Meanwhile, I started folding my clothes neatly into the suitcase. 

Nick's voice carried over from his room as I heard the distinct sound of a zipper being tugged open. "Alright" he began, "Let’s see what we’ve got here. Swim trunks, check. I brought the neon ones this time.."

I laughed, picturing him strutting around in the loudest pair of swim trunks he could find. "You really need neon to stand out? Thought your personality did that already."

"Ha ha" he shot back. "No, but seriously, you’ll thank me when you’re trying to spot me in the ocean. Anyway.. tank tops. Got a few new ones, including that white one you said looked good. Oh, and my black button up for dinners. Can’t be showing up to a nice restaurant looking like I just rolled off the beach."

The sound of him rifling through bags grew louder. "Flip flops, sneakers, maybe I should bring those prada loafers.. what do you think?"

 "Definitely bring the loafers for dinners. You’ll regret not having them."

"Good call" he replied, tossing them into his suitcase. "Alright, what else? Oh, sunscreen, got the high SPF stuff this time. Learned my lesson after that beach trip last summer. And hats! Gotta protect this money maker " he added, gesturing dramatically at his face.

"You’re ridiculous" I said with a laugh.

"Ridiculously prepared" he corrected. 

I shook my head, smiling to myself as I continued to fold my clothes. "You sound like you’re moving away for good, not going on a vacation."

"Hey!" he called out, "you’re gonna thank me when you’re borrowing my stuff because you forgot something."

"Bold of you to assume I’d forget anything" I shot back, neatly placing my toiletries into my bag.

Nick peeked his head into the hallway. "Care to make a bet on that?"

I smirked. "We’ll see."

I glance around Nick’s room one last time, making sure he isn’t about to burst out again with some last minute comment, but all I hear is the sound of him collapsing onto his bed. “Alright, I’m taking a nap. All that shopping has me worn out” 

I laugh at how dramatic he was, and closed over his bedroom door to let him sleep. I zipped up my suitcase and placed it in the corner of my room.

Now in silence, I sit on the edge of my bed. The small envelope from the flowers catching my attention, sitting on my bedside locker. It feels like it’s mocking me, just sitting there like some unsolved mystery. My fingers twitch as I pick it up, turning it over in my hands. Why does something so small have such a big hold over me? I hate how awkward everything feels now again, how one card and a few unread messages can mess with my head so much.

But I can’t go to Hawaii like this. I’m actually excited for the trip, and I’ll be damned if Matt is going to ruin it for me with this unresolved weirdness.

Acting on impulse, I shove the card back into the envelope and stand up. My heart’s pounding as my legs move before my brain fully catches up. Next thing I know, I’m marching down the stairs, the envelope clutched tightly in my hand like a lifeline.

The closer I get to Matt’s door, the louder the rush of blood in my ears becomes. The house feels strangely quiet, the kind of stillness that makes you hyper aware of every movement. I stop just outside his room, hesitating for a second. Maybe I should think this through, figure out what I’m even going to say. But before I can overthink it, my hand is already on the door handle.

I push the door open without knocking, stepping inside before I can change my mind. Matt’s sitting on his bed, scrolling through his phone. He looks up, startled, as the door swings open.

“Uh, hello?” he says, raising an eyebrow. “Ever heard of knocking?”

I ignore him, taking a step closer. “We need to talk.”

“About what?” he says, crossing his arms. “That you’re stealing Chris’ money and my clothes now?” He says, pointing at the yellow jumper I have on me.

Fuck this is his jumper.

No wonder the scent was familiar.

I take a deep breath, trying to not show how awkward I felt.

"About this. And about whatever game you think you’re playing." I say, holding up the envelope.

a/n: i <3 cliffhangers

taglist : @mattybearnard @sturn-33 @ncm9696 @yourfavsturniologirl @crazy4jewel @sodakid1234 @stupendoustreewinner @lovealwayssturniolos @matthewsturniolosss @m4ttsmunch @loveexxx @ilusa @starkeyszn @wonnieeluvvr @dylnblue @valxrieq @maggot3647 @cigarettecemetary @ribread03 @chrisstvrns @bandasaruswrx @noplaceissafeanymore @amexiass @witchofthehour @mattssgf @jetaimevous @v33angel  @ivysturnss @urmom69lol @ashlishes @watercolorskyy @sturnioloshottiekay @amelia-sturniolo3 @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @pvssychicken @alizestvrnss @chrisstxrnsaxe @sophand4n4 @vickytaa @marrykisskilled @bxtchboy69 @yourfavsturniologirl @julisturn @sydneyylainn @sophia-77n @trevorsgodmother @sturnslutz @yourmother29 @girl24cherry @astronea @pinkdyit

[volimtem]

Lucky.

pairing: nika mühl x fem!reader

ib anon / ask : a girl with headaches 24/7, could you do a teammate!reader x nika fic where r has a migraines but they have an event where they have to show up to? they manage to get out a bit early and nika just takes care of her

♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟmusic reqs: wondering why by the red clay strays (country) or spring into summer by lizzy mcalpine ♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ

drea speaks! — 1) for some reason I was getting 28 by Zach Bryan vibes, if anyone listens to country. 2) this is my first rec, i like to add context + give a story soo it’s not too straight to the point ☻

wc: 1.3k

LUCKY.

The fluorescent lights intensified the aches in your head.

“She’s going to chronically live with these migraines.” You heard the doctor tell your mom.

You were 8, you wish you had tuned that out like with most things. There was a comfort in the knowing, but it was also just a nagging reminder on how it’ll be never-ending.

— the present day —

“Ugh.” You groaned, Nika pulling you tighter into her embrace. She showered kisses along your shoulder, prying you awake. “What’s wrong?” She asked, her voice low and scratchy.

“My head hurts.”

Nika frowned, knowing how it was an inevitable mood changer for you, it set the rest of your day on a negative note.

“Do you still want to go to the ESPYs?” Her hands caressing your cheek.

“I mean we have to, don’t we?” Sass laced in the rhetorical question.

“I guess you’re right.” She sighed. “Anything I can do to help?” she perked, in hopes to better you in anyway possible. You knew of the lengths the brunette would go for you, it was no surprise.

You shifted onto your side to face the girl, giving her a warm smile. “No, but thank you. Y’know how lucky I am to have you? I love you so much.” You praised her.

“Hm. I think I forgot, a reminder would be nice.” She feigned her incompetence.

You rolled your eyes, but still fed into the girls silliness, “Well, I am the luckiest girl. The girlfriend to the Nika Mühl. Any girl would want to be in my position right now.”

“They would, wouldn’t they?” The Croatian added on, her ego amplifying with each compliment.

She laughed this off and squeezed you, imprinting chaste kisses all over your skin, trying not to be too rough since any movement could agitate your migraine.

While freshening up, Nika came to your shared bathroom to give you your pills and water.

She was sooo clingy today, maybe you should’ve faked the migraine episode.

Who was to complain? It was adorable.

She followed you everywhere; like a puppy on a string.

She wrapped her arms around your waist and watched you closely, seeing you attempt to do your makeup.

Your aches were making it the hardest thing to do at the moment.

Nika took notice in your frustration and grabbed the makeup brush from your hand, “Here. Turn around.” She told you.

“What?” You questioned her antics, confusion etched into your furrowed eyebrows.

“Turn around. I’ll do your makeup for you baby.”

She explained in a more soft voice.

“But-“, you tried to counter.

“No buts,” she interrupted. “You’re acting if I haven’t seen you do your makeup a thousand times, let me do this for you.”

You sighed, and complied with a confirming nod.

The point guard smiled and mouthed a ‘Thank you’.

As she did your makeup routine, you recieved endless compliments from your girlfriend.

“You’re so beautiful baby”, “Your lips look so kissable baby, let me kiss you”, “Your lashes are perfect.”, “How’d I get the prettiest girl in the world?”

“Stop.” you would reply. You didn’t want her to.

You weren’t one to accept compliments, but that didn’t mean you didn’t like how the affirming words fell from your lover’s lips.

She sealed the makeup routine with a soft kiss. And setting spray, of course.

The fragrant smell made your migraine symptoms even more sensitive, all your senses heightened, but you decided to keep a tough facade for the Croatian, along with your team, and coach, and everyone who you were representing; to be there tonight with your best smile.

— At the ESPYs —

The two of you made it to the event, Nika taking initiative in socializing for the both of you. You always admired how the girl knew when and how to step in for you.

To say the least, you were overstimulated. Your symptoms never waded and you were supposed to be giving a speech

, a small one, but a speech nonetheless— in front of hundreds of people.

“Hey, you okay?” Aaliyah asked you, noticing your faltering presence.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You sent her a weak smile, Nika shooting you a concerned look.

“Catch you later?” Nika directed to Aaliyah, in which she nodded.

“Are you okay?” Nika whispered in your ear, her hand placed on your mid back as she guided you somewhere more secluded.

You huffed. “I can’t— like I’m serious. I feel like I’m gonna pass out or something. This feels worse than my fucking period cramps.”

“Are you even feeling comfortable to do your speech?” She asked, really considering the fact to pick you up and take you home to rest. by force— which is completely valid with how stubborn you are, The Croatian really rubs off on you in that sense.

“Well, no. But I can’t let down everyone I’m representing, and those who are here supporting me.” You told the girl. You were one of the nominees for the Best Comeback- Athlete award

It was a big night.

A Big night for you both.

“Okay then. You’re doing your speech and then we’re leaving.” Nika said.

“But-“

“No buts, we’re leaving. I’m sure they can find another way to give you the award, which you will be winning. You just won’t be here for it.” She shrugged nonchalantly.

There was no point in arguing with the girl, she was gonna have her way. The thought of ditching wasn’t distasteful either.

smile lines creased your face, “you’re so annoying.”

“A ‘thank you baby for caring about me’ would’ve been nice.” The point guard rolled her eyes.

You two followed through her plan exactly.

You delivered your speech and Nika drove you two home.

Ironically, you turned on the channel that was broadcasting the ESPYs, while Nika was preparing some of her special soup from Croatia. She said it’s supposed to work wonders.

You were gonna hold her to it.

“We’re turning this off.” Nika reprimanded, already pushing the power-off button.

“How are we gonna head home for this migraine of yours, just to make it worse by watching TV?” She questioned your logic— in which she referred to as your stupidity.

“Can a girl, who’s one of the nominees mind you, not want to see who wins?”

The point guard crossed her arms. “We know who’s winning, and it’s you.”

“Now here, Open your mouth.” She instructed, taking a seat on the couch beside you, gesturing a spoonful of soup your way.

You did as your girlfriend said and let her spoon feed you.

“This is so good? I didn’t know I had a pro baller and a chef in my house.”

“Oh shut up, y’know this and eggs are the only thing I know how to make.” The girl chuckled.

“Well you’re good at it let me say that.”

“Why thank you, baby. Y’know I’d learn how to make anything for you, you’re just lucky this is one of the things I learned from my grandma.”

Before bed, she brushed your teeth for you.

She held your chin up to make sure she got in all your crevices and instructed you to open your mouth with “ah”s.

It was cute really, how much of a perfectionist she was trying to be.

When the lights were dimmed and she laid in bed, she gestured you to lay between her legs. She tenderly massaged your scalp and head as you enjoyed the silence between the two of you.

“Baby, you really know how to work your fingers. In more ways than the one I’m used to.” You slipped in the mischievous remark.

If it wasn’t for your migraine, Nika probably would’ve smacked your head upright. Instead, she laughed it off and blushed a little. “Should I be saying thank you?”

“No I should. I am so lucky to be your girlfriend Nika Mühl.”

“I love you.” She awed.

“I love you.”

Before you knew it, the feeling of her feather-like touches drowned out the aches in your head and you fell asleep in her warm embrace.

xx

[zosan-secondchances]

The Pirate King of the North: Part 24

I made the art specifically for -that- scene in Part 22 but I fell in love with so I might work on a full coloured version with Sanji as a pre-timeskip Straw Hats shot to be uploaded to my art blog. Stay tuned!

Warning: Long post ahead and some One Piece spoilers. Contains strong language and explicit content.

Part 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 (Special) | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29

Luffy

SANJIIIII!!!

Sanji

For the tenth time, I am not your cook.

Luffy

But how else are we going to eat?!

Sanji

I don't know. Eat leftovers. Or go fish and cook it yourself. I don't care.

Luffy

But you make them so much better!! And there's no leftovers anymore because I had them for morning snack!

Sanji

Food is food. It shouldn't matter who makes them. Eat or starve–I’m not obligated to help you because, again, I'm not your damn cook.

Luffy

Sanjiiiii!!! Why are you so mean all of the sudden?!

In a far world unknown to our heroes (but very much familiar to you and me), there sailed a ship on the clear day waters of the Grand Line. Coincidentally, this vessel is called the Thousand Sunny. On its grassy deck, seven Straw Hats settled around one of their nakama who seemed to have been transformed into an older version of himself. According to the all-truther and mightiest warrior of the sea with an army of eight thousand strong, Usopp the Brave, the very heavens itself had opened and embraced him, raising him with the angels above to return him in this new form.

Robin

Luffy, I wasn't sure before but I'm quite certain now. This is not our Sanji.

Luffy

What do you mean, Robin? The old man looks just like him, doesn't he?

Sanji

I'm not that old…. Am I?

Shit.

Robin

Well, he does act… differently…. For one, his attitude towards food is different compared to Cook-san.

Nami

I think you're right, Robin. And he hasn't…you know, done the thing.

Sanji

What thing?

Nami

You know the err… when you… you know, the… thing. Whenever me and Robin are around you.

Sanji

I have no idea what you're talking about. Saying it twice doesn't help.

The last of the Straw Hats finally joins the gathering, emerging from the infirmary and making his way down the steps.

Zoro

Hey Chopper, I got bandages for the shitty cook like you asked–

Sanji

GWAAHHH MARIMO-KUN!!!

In a blink of an eye, Sanji's legs zoom around and his heart-shaped eyes bulge out of skull. He circles around excitedly around the young version of his favourite swordsman as soon as he reaches the bottom of the floor. Unable to contain himself, he blows him multitudinous kisses in the air.

Nami

Err… that thing.

Sanji

YOU'RE. SO. CUTE. MELLORIIIIINE!!!

Shocked, Zoro accidentally drops the bag of medical equipment that Chopper had asked for. He recoils as his face reddens brightly. He holds his hands out in an attempt to keep Sanji’s kissy face away from him.

Zoro

ACK–!! Cut it out, you perverted old man!!!

Luffy bursts out laughing, pointing a mocking finger at the two.

Brook

Yohohoho! Love is in the air, it seems~

Chopper

That's interesting! Sanji, do you like boys?

Zoro forcefully pushes Sanji's face away to block an unwanted smooch. When the blonde hears the reindeer's question, he straightens up instantly, fishes out a cigarette from his pockets and lights it.

Sanji

I love men and women equally. But I do have an inclination towards individuals with…

Sanji trails his eyes up and down the young swordsman who crosses his arms and throws him an irritated frown in return.

Sanji

…domineering… qualities. Especially under the sheets….

Zoro

Ugh….

Slowly, the blonde takes a step forward towards him and another, forcing Zoro to walk backwards to maintain distance.

Sanji

My, my. But you are a delicious sight, little Marimo.

The swordsman didn't notice how hot the sun was but he quickly realises that it’s just his own skin. He's not used to seeing both of Sanji's bright blue eyes bear down on him at the same time which completely throws him off. Young Zoro hates the fucker but his scars and piercings are doing a number to his soul. He staggers and falls back against the steps.

Zoro

Little?! H–hey! What are you doing?! Back off!

Sanji

Tell me…does your Sanji see you the same way that I do?

Zoro

O–of course not!! You–

Sanji leans in and slams both of his hands against the steps, caging the shaken swordsman under him. Zoro bares his teeth and grips his sword to swipe the man away, but he freezes when the blonde flutters his eyelids and gazes down to his lips. He looks famished.

Sanji

Because, knowing myself, I would be.

I've stolen a lot of Beri and gold in my life, raided vaults of the wealthiest kings and queens across the world, but none compares to the treasure that I see before me.

Zoro's jaw drops agape, too speechless and stunned to move.

Zoro

I… I don't…

Sanji drags his own tongue over the top of his lips hungrily, lowering himself closer.

Sanji

Hmm… and I do like your eyes. Both of them.

Zoro

I…

Zoro can feel the blonde's breath over his lips when suddenly, the older man straightens up and moves away.

Sanji

It's a shame. My moral compass is unsure that I'd be cheating if I have my way with another version of you. Especially since we've just confessed our undying love to each other.

They all stare at him in bewilderment then look back and forth at him and the fallen swordsman who still lay motionless on the steps.

Usopp

Wait, wait, wait–you and Zoro are dating in the future?!

Sanji

I guess you can call it that. Though we've been romantically involved for months now.

Franky

Maybe we can meet this future Zoro ourselves when we get you home! I wonder if such technology exists to travel through time.

Sanji turns his heel to him swiftly.

Sanji

Would you have any idea if it can?

Franky

Uh…not to my knowledge. Sorry.

Robin

Actually, I don't think it's just time travel…. It does seem that you have numerous differences.

Chopper

Now that I think about it, he hasn't had a single nosebleed since he arrived. And that's for being around Nami and Robin for almost half an hour now!

Robin

Sanji-san, in your world, what are we like?

Sanji hops to sit on the wooden railing of the deck and crosses his legs. He plays with his goatee, deep in thought.

Sanji

Long nose, if what you say is true and me and your Sanji swapped, it means that my other self was right here. Travelling with you, Straw Hats.

Usopp

Well, yeah! Like Luffy said, you're our cook! You're one of us. You're nakama!

Sanji

Where I come from, I am none of those things. I'm a king.

Except for Zoro and Robin, the entire crew jumps onto their feet and gathers around him in an instant.

Straw Hats

WHAT?!

Sanji blinks at them curiously.

Sanji

They call me the Pirate King of the North. I am the crown king and ruler of Germa Kingdom.

Nami’s eyes practically transform into Beri signs. She swoons, hands clasped tightly under her chin as she forces herself through the crowd to be in front of him.

Nami

You didn't tell me that! Are you rich, Sanji-kun?!?

Sanji

Well…yeah. We do well enough for ourselves. I make an effort to make sure that people are happy and well fed.

Luffy, Usopp, Chopper, Franky and Brook’s eyes sparkle in amazement.

Chopper

That's so cool!!

Usopp

Do you have a big army?!

Franky

Do you have your own fleet of warships?!?

Brook

Do you live in a giant castle?!?!?

Luffy

Sanji, why didn't you tell us that you're a king?!?!?!?

Sanji cocks his head to the side, confused with the bombardment of questions.

Sanji

I was born into royalty. Your Sanji didn't tell you?

Luffy

Nah-uh! You never told us where you were born. When we met you, you lived with old man Zeff in a restaurant called Baratie in the East Blue!

Sanji

Zeff from Baratie? Interesting…. I've never heard of this man in my life.

He can't help but look at Zoro to observe his reaction. The young swordsman seemed to have gained his composure and was quietly listening under the shade of one of the trees on the lawn. He'd somehow acquired a tankard to drink with which he uses to hide his face behind.

Sanji sighs and shifts his legs over, crossing them the other way. He takes a long drag or his smoke and blows it out slowly. A devilish smirk forms on his face.

Sanji

Would you like to know more?

Straw Hats

YES!!!

Luffy

Tell us more about being king! Do they call you Pirate King because you found the One Piece?!

Sanji

Not exactly. I didn't make the title myself. They just–

Chopper

Do you go on many adventures?!

Sanji

Yes! Actually, I was just in–

Nami

Have you discovered rare and priceless treasures? DO YOU KNOW WHERE WE CAN FIND SOME?!

Sanji

We have this surgeon friend who–

Franky

I want to know if you have any suuuuppppeeerrrr weapons in your army!

Sanji

Oh! My brother made me this–

Usopp

Do you have righteous knights in metal armour under your command?!

Sanji

Of course! Helmets and all. And they can fly too~ They're also my si–

Usopp

AHHH!! SO UNBELIEVABLY COOL!!!

Robin

I'd like to hear more details about how you got here, Sanji-san. Maybe we'll get a better idea of how to turn things back to the way they were.

Sanji

I'm happy to–

Brook

Can you tell us how you and Zoro-san started dating? Yohohoho!

Zoro

BROOK!!! I WILL POUND YOU TO THE GROUND!

Brook

NOOOO!!!

The blonde grins playfully at them, enjoying every bit of attention that they give him. He remembers Law's advice for him not to take his favourite Marimo's offer to join the Straw Hats. While unsure on what the crew is like in his own world, he gets a glimpse of why they're too chaotic for the doctor's tastes. He can't help but find it hilarious that, in this place, he's a part of their family.

He sucks in another lungful of smoke and finally speaks after a pregnant pause.

Sanji

You might want to sit down. I can answer all of those questions but it's a bit of a long story. I'm going to need a bottle of wine or two. And you need to listen.

----------

Oh my gaaaaad the circle is finally complete!! We've caught up to Chapter 1

[potatoplace]

We Can Do This Together

Poly!Feysand x Reader

We Can Do This (part 1) | We Can Fix This (part 2)

Poly!ACOTAR x Reader Masterlist

Story Summary: As you near the end of your pregnancy, your doctor puts you on strict bed rest. Your doting partners make sure that you still get everything you want: your wedding, baby shower, and honeymoon.

Warnings: lots of pregnancy talk, labor (nothing graphic), light smut

Words: ~9.6k

Author's Note: AHHHHH I'm so excited to post this one!!! It is 100% fueled by how baby crazy I would be for Feysand, and also by just how damn CUTE it is (plus some unexpected spiciness, I did not plan on that lol). So enjoy it! I hope you all like this one.c I know I love it 🫶 p.s. this was supposed to be like... 3k long. This got uhhhhh a lil out of hand hehe 🤭 @icey--stars here's the extra part 💖

🤍🩵🤍💜🤍

Cold gel was smoothed over your massive bump as the doctor worked, one of your hands clutching at Feyre's as she did.

"Sorry, I know it's cold," Madja said as she got a better image, smiling softly down at you.

"It's okay..." you replied, craning your head to try and see the image. "Are they okay?"

Madja squinted at the screen for a moment, before raising a hand to the screen. "All three of the babies seem to be doing just fine, their heartbeats are strong and they're all doing well weight-wise. The main thing I'm concerned about-"

"Don't tell us the cord is wrapped around one of them or one of them doesn't have lungs or-" Rhys panicked, his eyes frantic as he looked at her. She fought back a smile, while you and Feyre both rolled your eyes.

"Neither of those are reality, Rhysand, I am simply worried about Y/N," Madja said with a pointed stare at you, her eyes serious. "Carrying three babies is no easy feat, especially with you still working and being 28 weeks along with triplets. And given that you came in after a fainting spell... I am recommending complete bed rest, and if you must leave the house, you need to be in a wheelchair whenever possible. And I'm going to prescribe some extra vitamins, just so we can keep the little girls inside as long as possible. Understood?" Madja asked you, and as much as you wanted to yell 'no' at the idea of bed rest... You wanted your babies healthier more.

"Okay..." you said poutily.

"We'll make sure she follows your orders, Madja," Feyre said, squeezing your hand reassuringly.

"Good! I'd also recommend massage to help with your circulation, the added benefit is that it will help with some of the aches and pains I'm sure you're feeling. Now, I'll go write those prescriptions, you three sit tight for another moment." Madja left the room, leaving you alone with your two fiancés.

You may not be able to get married in the traditional sense, but Feyre and Rhys had insisted upon a ceremony, as they wanted you to feel just as important in the relationship. You, of course, had agreed immediately, wanting nothing more than to be bound to the two in whatever way you could be. That, and the promise of a week long honeymoon of just the three of you would have been more than enough to convince you.

That had been before you discovered you were carrying triplets, though. You had to be the most fertile woman on the planet, to not only get pregnant after having sex with a condom, but for that to result in triplets. That exciting and terrifying appointment had been just a few weeks after you'd had that horrid haircut...

And now you certainly weren't getting your honeymoon, as it had been planned for three weeks from now, your wedding ceremony the day before you were to leave. With you on bed rest, their might not even be a ceremony at all...

Tears came to your eyes unbidden at the thought, and you tried to blink them away before either Feyre or Rhys saw them. But you were unsuccessful, only causing them to fall faster as disappointment swept over you.

"Oh, little love, what is it?" Rhys asked, one of his hands coming to cup your face and swipe away the tears with his thumb.

His gentle touch only spurred on more tears, a sob ripping through your chest. You covered your face with your hands, rubbing your palms into your eyes to try and stop the tears.

"Y/N, you need to tell us what's wrong so we can fix it, darling," Feyre said softly, her hand moving from your hand up to wrap around you, taking you into her arms as much as she could while you were on the exam table.

"I just- our- our wedding!" You cried, sobbing harder. "Our perfect honeymoon, and the ceremony and the baby shower!"

"Oh, love, we'll still have all of those," Rhys reassured you as he pried your hands off of your face. "The ceremony will be easy enough to do, you'll just need to sit as much as you can. We can do the baby shower at home, or even on the day of our wedding, and the honeymoon we can move to somewhere close by, a cottage by a lake, just the three of us, hmm?" Rhys asked as he cradled your face, keeping your eyes on him.

"See, little love? We can still have all of those things, you'll just be resting as much as possible. Okay?"

You stuck your lip out in a pout, which Rhys immediately caught between his thumb and forefinger.

"What do you say, baby? Will you let us take care of you?"

When he talked to you like that... Even with the hormones raging through you, you couldn't say no.

So you nodded your head.

🤍🩵🤍💜🤍

"I'm going crazy!" You complained from the couch as Feyre and Rhys bustled around the kitchen, delicious scents wafting over to where you had been banished to.

"You're not going crazy, Y/N, you're just bored!" Feyre called out. "Watch something or play a game, love!"

"But I'm tired of playing games and watching things," you whined, throwing the blanket off of your lap. Your bump made it harder and harder to get up without help, but you managed to push yourself off of the couch.

Over the past three weeks, you had moved into Rhys and Feyre's penthouse for good, your own personal effects now strewn across every room, and your clothes in their closet.

Getting to sleep with them every night had been heavenly, or as heavenly as sleeping at almost eight months pregnant with triplets could be. Their arms around you and soft touches helped lull you to sleep without fail, and waking up next to them and not leaving? Perfection.

The only problem? You'd been put on maternity leave at work! When you could very easily work from home on your laptop, but no. No. Your work had decided that you continuing to work with such a high risk pregnancy was a no-go, so now you were stuck in the loveliest apartment you had never been in, completely and totally bored.

You padded over to the kitchen, fluffy pink bunny slippers on your feet, this pair one that Feyre had gotten after you moved in. Your old slippers no longer fit your widened feet and ankles, and when you had cried over the fact, Feyre had run out and purchased three different pairs of slippers for you, all varying shades of adorable bunnies.

"What are you doing in here?" Rhys scolded, wrapping his arms around you when he turned around. "You're not supposed to be walking around, little love."

Feyre had turned around too, and both of their very mildly disappointed stares on you made you wish you hadn't gotten up. But still...

"I'm bored, I'm so tired of sitting on the couch or laying in bed," you whined into his chest, hands clutching at his shirt.

"There's only one more night that you're going to be this bored, darling, and that's tonight," Feyre said as she took the spot behind you, winding her arms around your middle and stroking your gigantic stomach.

"Because what's tomorrow?" She asked in your ear, sending a small shiver down your spine.

"Our wedding and baby shower," you answered, a big grin on your face as you thought about it.

"That's right, sweet girl," Feyre said, placing a kiss along your neck with every word. "Tomorrow we're getting married, and getting lots of cute gifts while we spend time with our friends, and then the day after?"

"The day after we're going to a lake cabin," you giggled, absolutely giddy at the idea. It wasn't the oceanside resort you had planned to go to, but it was nearly the same, just much closer. After all, the main thing you were excited for was spending every second of every day with your Feyre and your Rhys, celebrating the life you'd all started together eight months ago.

"That's right, Y/N, and you get us for one hundred and twenty uninterrupted hours," Rhys purred, sending a thrill to your core.

The one area you hadn't been bored in? Lovemaking. While Rhys had been too afraid to fuck you roughly, especially in the last three weeks, he and Feyre had made it their personal goal to find every other way there was to make you climax.

"Mm, and I can't wait," you said happily, craning your head to steal a kiss from him.

"Not fair," Feyre whined from behind you, even as she herself stole a kiss from Rhys. "I want one too." You twisted yourself in their arms, a grin on your face as you placed a kiss on Feyre's lips. "Good. Now that we've all gotten our smooches, you can go sit back down on the couch." You went to protest, but Feyre cut you off, "If you're a good girl and only walk when you have to tonight, you'll get a good night surprise from me."

A flush spread over your cheeks at the idea- Feyre's surprises were always the best. "I'll go sit down and be good, if you come with me. Let Rhys finish dinner."

"Hey, I want to come snuggle too," Rhys complained.

"But you're the better cook, Rhysie," Feyre said, already tugging you from his arms and over to the couch. "Besides, we need Y/N to eat soon, and if I stayed alone in the kitchen we'd have to order in!"

Rhys groaned but continued cooking, though you could tell he was doing it with a pout, even if you couldn't see it.

Feyre settled you into the couch, pulling your blue throw blanket that matched her eyes back onto your lap, but left your feet and lower legs uncovered.

"How have you ankles felt?" She asked as she settled down in front of you, grabbing the bottle of lotion that they kept nearby now.

"They've been fine," you said, a hint of a lie in your voice even as you tried to hide it. Feyre caught it, staring at you sternly. "Okay, fine, they've been sore and puffy..."

"That's what I thought, I think we need to start giving you massages twice a day now to keep your circulation going more," Feyre said gently as she started working the lotion into your skin, your head falling back onto the couch pillow. Feyre chuckled at your reaction. "Feel nice, baby?"

You managed to nod, but couldn't find it in yourself to speak. Before you'd been bored and restless, now you were just... tired. Calm. Especially with Feyre's hands on you.

You drifted off quickly, awoken by Rhys's deep laugh. "Did she fall asleep in the ten minutes it took me to finish dinner?"

"She did, I think she was just lonely," Feyre said gently, and you could still feel her hands massaging your ankles with such care.

"I was bored," you mumbled, still not fully awake.

Rhys laughed again, softer this time. "Of course you were, darling. Are you ready for dinner?" His hand stroked over your hair, his touch bringing you back to awareness.

"Dinner?" You asked sleepily, blinking to clear your eyes.

"That's right, dinner. You should eat something before you take your vitamins."

You made a face at the idea of vitamins, so many tiny little pills to swallow. But dinner...

"Dinner sounds good."

🤍🩵🤍💜🤍

Tears were pouring down your face as you stood in front of a floor length mirror, taking in how you looked.

"Oh, Y/N, don't cry! You look absolutely beautiful!" Emerie said, dabbing the tears off your face with a tissue.

"I know, I just-" you cried. "I just love them so much!"

"Oh, I know you do! Which is why you're getting married to them! So no more happy tears until you see them at the end of the aisle, hmm?"

You sniffled but nodded your head, doing your best to stop your tears as Emerie wiped the remaining ones from your already made up face. "Okay. I can try."

"Good. Now, does everything with your dress look right? And the veil? And your hair?"

You looked yourself over again, fighting back more tears- happy ones, thankfully, but tears nonetheless. Your soft, silk white dress had a Queen Anne neckline with cap sleeves and a flowing waistline that hung prettily over your bump, more flattering and pretty than you'd thought possible with how massive you were now. It met the floor, just barely dragging over it as you walked, and your feet were clad in comfortable ballet slippers, with an extra support stuffed inside that Feyre had insisted upon.

Your hair was lovely, having grown back out a bit, laying in soft curls and your bangs styled. Your veil was beautiful, attached to your head with a small tiara and flowing down to the backs of your knees, made of a delicate white lace.

"Everything is perfect," you breathed, fingering the necklace that Rhys and Feyre had gifted you four months ago, tiny starbursts of diamonds surrounding three square sapphires, one for each of your daughters.

Emerie smiled at you in the mirror, then began guiding you back to the couch against the wall of the dressing room. "Good, because you should be getting your cue to walk out any minute now!"

True enough, the moment after you sat down, Mor knocked on the dressing room door and opened it, peeking inside. "Oh good, you're ready, come along now!" She squealed, helping Emerie pull you back to your feet.

The two of them helped walk you to the double doors that separated you from your future. Emerie fluffed out the short train of your dress while Mor pulled the doors open, and the both of them stepped aside to let you pass through on your own.

The moment you saw them standing there, Rhys and Feyre, you thought you might faint.

Rhys looked fantastic in his fine black suit with silver stitching, his blue-black hair styled into the soft curls that you loved so much, a slight blush on his cheeks when he met your eyes across the hall, his signature smirk softened into something even lovelier. His dark purple tie brought a smile to your own lips, the dare that you and Feyre had made him take after teasing him about not only wearing black at the wedding.

And Feyre... Feyre took your breath away, her golden brown hair styled into pretty ringlets, her own veil carefully pinned onto the crown of her head. Her dress was beautiful, clinging to her curves before flowing out at her hips, with tiny spaghetti straps holding the bodice to her chest. A flush spread over her cheeks and chest when she looked at you, a smile taking up her whole face.

You finally remembered to start moving when Feyre wiggled her fingers at you, your face turning bright red as you slowly made your way down the aisle, giggling when you met Feyre and Rhys at the end, who both immediately wrapped an arm around you to help take the pressure off of your feet.

The ceremony flew by, with you hardly remembering a single word of what had been said, your mind more preoccupied with how loved and cherished the two people you were now bonded to made you feel.

Your first kiss married to the two of them was from Feyre, Rhys having muttered something like "Ladies first," to Feyre.

It was magical, getting to kiss your wife and husband, and Rhys had you giggling when he immediately scooped you into his arms, careful not to squish the babies. He carried you from the wedding hall to the attached reception hall, a large couch in the center of it with chairs, tables, and a few other, smaller couches set up as well. He gently set you onto the couch in the center before settling beside you, Feyre taking up the spot on your other side.

That was something he loved doing- literally sweeping you off of your feet whenever he had the chance, especially over the past three weeks. You didn't mind one bit, not when it meant snuggling into his chest while he carried you up a set of stairs, or being held the entire duration of the elevator ride when you could suck little marks on his neck, enjoying the pleasured hiss he would let out.

You let out a contented sigh as you leaned your head on Rhys, letting it sink in.

You're married.

Emerie quickly began taking charge of the festivities, ordering for the food to be set out and music to be played, even bossing Mor into dancing with her before they'd had a bite to eat.

Rhys had gone to get a plate for the three of you, coming back with it piled high with beef pot roast, mashed potatoes, mac and cheese, and green beans- it had been your idea after seeing the fancy displays the caterer had made, your stomach rolling at the sight even though you knew it would taste just fine.

The babies had had a different, less logical idea.

So pot roast it was, the other dishes suggestions from Feyre and Rhys.

Rhys took great pride in feeding both you and Feyre, only taking his own bites when the two of you decided to steal the fork from him and feed him yourselves. Rhys would steal back the fork and continue feeding you as much as you could handle, rubbing your back as you chewed each bite. Which of course only spurred you on to eat more, wanting more of his soft smiles and gentle touch.

You could only eat so much, though, before you collapsed back against the couch cushions, rubbing at your tummy and delighting in the little kicks that your hands were met with.

They were happy too.

The ceremony had been small, no more than 30 people that the three of you had trusted to share this experience with. Your own family had declined to attend, which had stung at first, before you realized that you had a new family, one that would support you unconditionally.

And that was all that you needed, all that your babies needed.

After an hour or so, Emerie decided that it was time to open presents- likely sensing the inevitable lag in your energy that would happen sooner or later.

Presents were piled around the couch you and your spouses were sat on, far too many in your opinion. But truly? You were touched that people wanted to spoil your babies so thoroughly, when they hadn't even arrived yet.

The combined wedding reception and baby shower went by quickly at first, but your energy began to lag after the second hour, your head resting against Feyre's shoulder between presents. After a while you stopped opening them, preferring to react sleepily while your partners tore apart wrapping paper and peeked into bags.

So many baby clothes, all of the outfits coming in three matching sets and each one getting you closer and closer to tears as you thought about your babies snuggled up in cute onesies, or in the little fox outfits that Lucien and Elain had gifted you.

You gained a small second wind after the cake was cut, strawberry with a lemon filling a pretty strawberry icing, your favorite since you had grown pregnant.

Feyre and Rhys had both offered you the first bite, which had made you laugh, both of them waving forks in front of your face to try and sway you to choose theirs. Instead, you directed Rhys's fork to Feyre, and Feyre's to Rhys, only taking a bite from each of them after they'd had their own.

Soon enough, though, you were out of energy again, dozing off against Rhys's shoulder while Feyre went to the restroom. He had you sit up for a moment which had made you grumble, before pulling you back against him after draping his suit jacket over your arms and back.

"Thank you, husband," you murmured against him.

"You're welcome, sweet wife," he cooed, placing a gentle kiss to the crown of your head.

The clicking of heels just barely alerted you to Feyre's presence before she spoke. "Awe, is she all tuckered out?"

Rhys chuckled quietly. "I think so, darling. Should we get her home?"

You mumbled against his chest.

"What was that?"

You sighed but moved your face away from him a bit. "We haven't danced yet," you whined.

"Oh, love, I don't know if-"

"Madja said I could dance to one song, maybe two if I rest for a bit between them. Please?" You begged, using your best puppy dog eyes on the two of them.

Feyre sighed, but you knew she was going to give in. "Alright, since Madja said it was okay. But if you get tired you need to tell us, yeah?"

You nodded. "Of course, my pretty wifey," you said, and shrugged off Rhys's jacket. Feyre's blush was delightful, and you let her and Rhys help you stand, immediately clinging to her once you were. "I really just want to sway with you..."

"We can sway," Feyre said, wrapping her arms around you.

"Can I join or are we doing separate dances?" Rhys asked cheekily from behind you, already winding his arms around both of you, sandwiching you between them.

Just how you loved to be.

"Dances together, of course," you insisted, squeezing one of his hands. "Everything together, I think." You rested your head on Feyre's shoulder, smiling when you heard the sound of their lips meeting.

This was right where you needed to be, for the rest of time.

🤍🩵🤍💜🤍

The party had wound down early, with you falling asleep on Feyre's shoulder while she and Rhys talked to their close friends, their conversations garnering the occasional sleepy giggle from you when you managed to pay attention long enough.

Mostly, it was Cassian and Mor teasing Rhys about having two wives that were far prettier than he would ever be, and Rhys adamantly agreeing with it, to which Cassian and Mor would reiterate how he is not the prettiest person in his relationship. They were obviously trying to rile him up, but it seemed Rhys's overwhelming love for how you and Feyre look overrode any need of his to proclaim himself the most gorgeous person in the room.

It was only once you had drooled the tiniest bit on Feyre's shoulder that your husband and wife declared the festivities over, at least for the three of you. Rhys had scooped you into his arms once more, this time carrying you to the town car waiting to take the three of you home.

You dozed between the two of them on the way home, feeling safe and content. The drive was short, no more than ten minutes, but by the time you arrived, you were more than ready to stay in the car and sleep there until the morning.

Thankfully for you, Rhys pulled you gently into his arms and carried you all the way up to the penthouse, Feyre opening and closing the doors. You blinked yourself awake when you felt your dress being unzipped and tugged from your body, watching Feyre put it on a hanger and store it in the closet before Rhys helped her remove her own dress.

You sighed dreamily at the sight of her, clad in white lace lingerie like the perfect, pretty present that she was.

"Like what you see, darling?" She asked teasingly as she undressed Rhys slowly, grinning when she saw your eyes catch on his muscled torso.

"Mmhm," you hummed. "Come over here and I'll show you just ho-" the rest of your sentence was cut off by a wide yawn, drawing a chuckle from Rhys.

"I think you can wait to show her until tomorrow, little love," Rhys said, crossing the room once he was down to his boxers.

Also purple, like his tie.

"But I want to-"

"I would much rather help you take a bath, darling," Feyre said softly, already taking both of your hands in hers to help you up. "We can celebrate tomorrow, when we're all feeling refreshed and at the cabin. Doesn't that sound nice?"

You pouted at her for a half a second before giving in- after all, a bath did sound heavenly right now...

"Okay, as long as both of you take one with me."

"We wouldn't dream of doing it any other way, love," Rhys murmured in your ear, picking you up a moment later. "Now let's get us all warm and clean and cozy."

🤍🩵🤍💜🤍

You woke tangled in the blankets the next morning, somehow having stolen nearly the entirety of it from your wife and husband, leaving them curled up close to you, half covered.

Not a bad view, you thought to yourself, drinking in the way the sunlight hit their skin, the curves of their bodies.

But still, the thought that had woken you needed to be tended to.

Though getting out of bed without waking either Rhys or Feyre... Would be tricky, seeing as you were nestled between them, their arms looped over you.

You started with Rhys first, he was always a bit of a heavier sleeper than Feyre. His arm was carefully placed over his side, though it immediately started creeping forward in its search for warmth.

The moment you moved Feyre's arm though, her eyes fluttered open, gorgeous blue meeting your own. The sleepy smile she gave you made you wish you had a camera in your hands, it was so soft and cute and sweet... Just like her.

You couldn't help it, you leaned forward to steal a sweet kiss from her, which she gladly gave, her arm tightening around your middle, pressing your bump to her tummy.

"Why are you up so early, love?" She whispered. "Did you need the bathroom?"

Well... "Yes, but I need to do something in the nursery too..."

Feyre's eyes narrowed briefly, likely having guessed what you wanted to do after relieving yourself.

"Okay, let's get you up, sweetheart," she whispered, getting out of bed herself before helping you swing your legs over the side, then pulling you to your feet. Her eyes lingered over your exposed bump and breasts, and you could sense that she was resisting pinching you somewhere.

Once you had used the bathroom, Feyre helped you get dressed in a comfortable lilac wrap dress and your purple bunny slippers before getting dressed herself. She slipped on a pair of light blue jean shorts with a forest green tshirt, looking even lovelier than ever.

Of course, that's what you thought every time you saw her, but it was still true.

"Let's get you to the nursery, love," Feyre said softly, letting one of your arms wrap around her while she did the same, helping support you as you walked the short distance to the nursery, only a door down from the master bedroom.

Inside of the pastel pink nursery, three cribs had already been set up, little mobiles dangling over them. There were already three pastel dressers that had been half filled with tiny baby clothes, carefully arranged by you into age groups, and three matching changing tables lined up against one wall, already stocked with all you would need to change the babies.

There was also a large couch against the back wall, a nursing chair positioned next to it in the corner. Both were heavenly to sit in, and remembering how long it had taken you to pick them out made you smile. Feyre and Rhys had been insistent on you getting only the most comfortable furniture for you, as you would be the one using them the most while breastfeeding.

In the middle of the room, covering most of the area rug with little animals on it, were the gifts from yesterday. None of them had been put away- good, you thought. You would only have arranged them all over again by yourself, needing them to be organized just how you liked.

Nesting, as it turned out, was very much you being overly needy about how things looked in the bedroom and nursery, but especially the nursery.

"I'll go make us some tea and be back in a few moments, alright love?" Feyre asked, waving a hand in front of your face when you didn't respond, only stared at the large pile. "Sit down, Y/N, I'll be back in a minute to help you sort it all out, don't worry."

She left the room, and you could hear how quickly she moved down the hallway. Maybe she was anxious about leaving you alone...

You sighed and sat down on the floor on your knees, not sure how better to position yourself. Picking through the pile, you started to sort the clothes out into their different age ranges, starting from newborn and going up to two years.

It was only five minutes later when Feyre returned, a tray with a pot of tea and three cups resting on it in her hands. "What are you doing on the floor?"

You blinked at her for a moment. "Uh... Sitting?"

"I can see that, silly, I meant for you to sit on the couch!" Feyre tsked, setting down the tray and holding her hands out for you to take. "Come on, little love, it's not good for you to be sitting like that."

You sighed and scrunched your face, but took Feyre's hands and let her help you onto the couch.

"Don't worry, I'll help you sort everything out exactly how you want. Now... How were you organizing this?" Feyre asked, kneeling in front of the pile.

"Well..."

It was maybe an hour later when you and Feyre had finished sorting all of the clothing that Rhys burst through the nursery door, a panicked look on his face.

"Are you okay? Are the babies okay?" He asked frantically, already by your side, assessing you with his hands and eyes.

You slapped his hands away gently when he tried to take your pulse, giggling at his antics. "I am just fine, darling. Are you okay?"

Rhys let out a breath of relief. "Of course, I was just worried when I woke up and both of you were gone..."

Feyre laughed and wrapped her arms around Rhys's shoulders. "You're such a mother hen, Rhysie. We just wanted you to sleep in a little bit, and Y/N wanted to organize all the new baby clothes we were given yesterday," she explained, rolling her eyes over his shoulder at you.

"I'm no mother hen, if anyone is a mother hen, then it's you, my dear Feyre."

"Oh, that's bull and you know it Rhys. You barely let Y/N take a step these days!"

It was Rhys's turn to roll his eyes. "Like you wouldn't also be carrying her everywhere if you could?" Feyre was silent, looking away with a smile growing on her face. "That's what I thought, darling. Now, if all the clothes are sorted, I thought we could get on the road soon," Rhys suggested, smiling when he saw your eyes light up.

"Yes, let's hit the road!" You exclaimed, and started to push yourself off the couch. Rhys and Feyre chuckled at your enthusiasm and helped you up, the three of you heading into the bedroom together.

"I think we have everything packed already, besides the blankets and pillows," Rhys said as he pulled the four duffel bags he had packed two days ago onto the bed, three stuffed full of the clothing you would be needing for the next five days, the other stuffed with toiletries, your vitamins, books, and a couple of canvases for Feyre. She would also be bringing her travel easel, packed tightly with the brushes and paints she would need to paint you in the water, as she had declared she would be doing.

And, of course, the go bag. Stuffed full of anything you would need should you go into labor, it was a must to take with you. It had the first onesies you wanted the babies to wear, lilac with a customized saying on it: 'Mommy's and Daddy's and Mommy's girl'.

You had cried when you opened them, a surprise from Feyre and Rhys two months ago.

Also inside was a Polaroid camera, a digital camera, a film camera - you wanted everything documented, and you wanted it done right... though, not the birth... That could stay off film for good.

"Is there anything else you can think of?" Feyre asked you, her pretty eyes distracting you from the question.

"Uhm... No?" You answered, your mind not coming up with anything.

"Then I do believe that we are ready to go!" Feyre said cheerily, guiding you to sit down on the bed so that she could change your shoes.

"I'll take the bags down, do not let her leave the apartment until I come back up," Rhys demanded, fixing you with a stern eye. You blushed but nodded, not wanting a repeat of your fainting spell three weeks ago.

Less than ten minutes later you were bundled into the car, your favorite pillow clutched in your lap, along with Feyre's hands. She played with your fingers the whole car ride, even when she was kissing you.

Which was nearly the entire time, both of you deciding that you didn't really need air anyways to live, you'd much rather breathe each other in.

You could hear Rhys's longing, quiet groans whenever he glanced at the two of you in the rear view mirror, and whenever you looked at him he had a slight flush to his face and neck, which only made both of you more enthusiastic.

"Oh mother, you two will be the death of me," Rhys grumbled, and you saw his right hand lower to his lap and heard the rustle of fabric.

"Hey, hands on the wheel, Rhysie," you said between kisses, tilting your neck to give Feyre access.

"Easier said than done..." He sighed, but moved his hand back to the steering wheel.

"You'll get your turn once we arrive, don't you worry husband," Feyre said against your skin, sending a shudder through you.

By the time you arrived you were a needy wreck, putty in Feyre's capable hands where they had slid below your dress, playing with your breasts.

"Alright, girls, my turn," Rhys growled as he pulled you from the car, entering the cottage once Feyre had unlocked the door and making a beeline for the bedroom. He set you down carefully, so gently that it brought tears to your eyes. "None of that sweet love, unless it's from too much pleasure," Rhys said quietly against the skin of your neck, just below your ear.

Feyre dipped onto the bed a moment later, her hand sneakily undoing the tie of your dress, which fell open easily, baring you to both of them.

"Too much pleasure? I think she can handle it," Feyre purred, her hand already snaking down your tummy and to your cunt, chuckling lowly when she felt the wetness that she'd created. "Don't you, sweet girl?"

You nodded your agreement, mouth falling slightly open when she dipped a finger inside of you.

Oh yes. You could handle this.

🤍🩵🤍💜🤍

An hour of their hands exploring every inch of you and another hour peacefully dozing in their embrace later, and Rhys was disentangling himself from the pile of limbs the three of you had made.

"Where are you going?" Feyre asked sleepily from your left, her breath warm against your chest.

"I'm going to go get food for our time here," Rhys replied, and you hear the shuffle of fabrics and jingle of his belt.

"I wanna go," you yawned, stretching your legs out and sighing at how lovely it felt.

Rhys kneeled on the mattress and over you, a thumb stroking over your cheek prompting your eyes to open. "If you go to the store, you know you have to be in a wheelchair the whole time, right darling?"

You scrunched your face up for a second. You hated using the wheelchair. But...

"I want to pick out snacks and drinks," you insisted, raising your own hand to cup his face. "You're so preeetty."

Rhys smiled, a toothy, adorable thing. "Okay, okay, so long as you stay in the wheelchair you can come shopping. I take it you'll want to come as well, Fey?"

"Of course, I'm not going to be left alone here while my wife and husband go shopping," Feyre said cheerily, already pulling herself into a sitting position. Rhys helped you do the same, and then to stand.

You all finished getting redressed before Rhys scooped you into his arms again and depositing you gently into the backseat, even buckling you up and pressing a kiss to your forehead.

The trip into the lakeside town was short, no more than ten minutes, and you were relieved to see it had a small hospital, just as Rhys and Feyre had reassured you.

The local grocery store was cute and fairly large, and hopefully housing all of the items that you were hoping to get. You were wheeled inside, your cheeks flaming red as you saw people stare at your large baby bump and the two gorgeous people with you.

You never had liked being stared at... Unless it was Feyre and Rhys doing the staring.

Feyre pushed a cart while Rhys pushed you along, all of you picking out ingredients for dinner, breakfast, and the occasional snack, that was until you reached the candy aisle.

Recently you'd been craving chocolate- chocolate bars, chocolate cookies, chocolate covered fruit, chocolate anything.

And today was no different.

"Okay, Y/N, you can pick out five different candies if you'd like, and we'll all share them," Feyre said, obviously having noticed how your eyes were flitting over the choices.

"Five? Really?" You asked, surprised. One item a day, even if you were sharing, seemed like a lot.

"Yes, five," Feyre chuckled. "You don't have to pick out that many if you don't want to, but I thought since it's our honeymoon and all, that you could have some extra sweetness to go with you... extra sweetness," she said, wiggling her eyebrows at the last two words.

You only flushed further, though this time was from anticipation. Still, you made yourself take your time to pick out your items, not wanting to regret not choosing something later when the cravings struck.

With everything picked out, Feyre went to the cash register while Rhys took you back to the car, gently lifting you inside and buckling you in once more, this time with a heated kiss press to your lips.

You were breathless when he pulled away, your heart fluttering. "I love you," you whispered against his lips, smiling widely when he said the words back to you.

Feyre returned a moment later with the groceries, and once everything was unloaded and they were both buckled in, you were headed back to the cottage.

Rhys carried you inside once again, this time sitting you on the couch that faced a window, overlooking the lake that was right there.

"Can we go swimming soon?" You asked once both of them were seated beside you, groceries put away.

"Of course, love," Feyre said as she nuzzled into your shoulder.

"After you've eaten something, and rested for a bit," Rhys added, already up from the couch in search of something for you to have for lunch.

"Mother hen," you muttered, drawing a laugh from Feyre.

"I told him so," she giggled into your shoulder.

🤍🩵🤍💜🤍

Swimming had been lovely, the three of you floating in the shallow end- or rather, you floating in the shallow end as Rhys and Feyre fought with tiny squirt guns while keeping a close eye on you.

After a bit they had called on you to play referee, but you kept forgetting how many points they had and eventually called it a tie, with the winners both receiving big smooches from you.

Rhys had insisted upon carrying you out of the water and back into the cottage without even drying off, leaving a trail of water behind you as he carried you to the bedroom and into the massive bathroom, taken up by a bathing pool that could easily fit five people.

He stripped both of you out of your bathing suits and lowered you into the water, grinning when you let out a pleased sigh at the warmth. He shifted so he was behind you, your back resting against his chest and sat between his legs, his hands stroking over your belly as the babies kicked softly.

Feyre came in a moment later, clad in only a towel, though not for long. She joined you in the tub, settling in to the right of you after pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

The water was warm, but not so warm that you couldn't soak with them for a while. You were already drifting off in Rhys's embrace, the warmth of the water and excitement from the day tugging you into the place between sleep and awareness, drifting through it as you felt Feyre and Rhys's soft hands, heard them kissing above you.

🤍🩵🤍💜🤍

The next morning you had demanded to go swimming after breakfast, not caring that the water was still somewhat cool in the morning sun.

Feyre had decided that she very much cared, choosing to stay on the patio and paint you swimming.

Rhys was happy to swim, and even happier to have you float in his arms as he slowly tugged you through the water, completely relaxed in his hold.

Eventually, though, your skin was pruned and your stomach grumbling for a snack, and Rhys had to drag you out of the water, a pout on your face while he carried you to the patio.

"You can go back in after you've let your stomach rest a bit, love," Feyre reassured you as she patted you dry with a towel, then tied your swim dress around you.

"I know..." You pouted. "Will you join us next time?"

Feyre glanced over at her easel, a half finished painting still on it. "I suppose the rest of the painting can wait until tomorrow, if you'll be swimming then too?"

You nodded vigorously. "Oh, I plan to swim as much as I can while we're here. Once the babies come, it'll be even harder to find the time, and I think they really like it when I'm swimming," you smiled, rubbing a hand over your tummy, a small kick being enough to convince you that you were right.

Feyre placed her hand over yours, smiling when she also felt a kick, this one stronger, like she was showing off for her second mom.

"Well, let's go get you lunch then, so we can get you back in the water," Feyre said, leading you back into the cottage and to the dining table.

🤍🩵🤍💜🤍

When you had finished swimming that evening, Rhys and Feyre both helped you bathe again- which really meant that they washed you twice, both of them running their hands over every inch of skin, with Feyre's fingers dipping between your thighs, Rhys's mouth swallowing your cries when you came under her touch.

You watched them bathe each other, which was somehow more erotic than doing it yourself, your own hands reaching up to cup your breasts while you stared at them hungrily.

You were fixed with identical feline smirks after you let a gasp slip loose, the look in their eyes promising you nothing but trouble.

"Does our sweet girl like watching us?" Feyre crooned as she kneeled over you, your gaze locked on hers.

"Mhmm..." You nodded, biting your lip, a question on the tip of your tongue. "Would.. Rhys?"

"Yes, darling?" Rhys asked lowly from behind Feyre.

"Would you..." You blushed heavily even at the thought. "Would you fuck Feyre? Hard," you said. "I... I want to watch you fuck her until she screams," you whispered, your blush intensifying under their gazes.

"Are you asking me to fuck my pretty wife while my other pretty wife watches?" Rhys asked teasingly, and you nodded. "What do you say, Feyre?" He asked her, pulling her hair aside and kissing along the expanse of her neck.

"Mm, I say yes- as long as I get to eat Y/N's sweet cunt while you do," Feyre said, a wicked glint in her eyes as she looked you over.

"I'm sure that can be arranged," Rhys said lowly. "I do think it requires a change of scenery, though."

A moment later Rhys had hoisted a squealing Feyre over his shoulder, and you heard the bounce of a mattress as he deposited her on it, only moments later returning for you, a hungry look in his eyes.

"Once Feyre is done eating you, it'll be my turn, little love," he whispered in your ear as he brought you into the bedroom. Your eyes caught on Feyre, already on her knees and forearms on the bed.

You giggled with anticipation, more than ready for whatever the night would bring the three of you.

🤍🩵🤍💜🤍

The next morning, you were awoken by a dull ache in your abdomen. You tried to disentangle yourself from Rhys and Feyre's arms, but they both stirred awake before you made much progress.

"Bathroom?" Rhys asked sleepily in your ear, his hand rubbing over your stomach in a soothing pattern.

"Mm... I think so," you whispered, wiggling your hips against him, delighting in the soft moan he let out.

"Wicked girl... Come on, let's get you up."

You relieved yourself quickly and exited the bathroom, finding Rhys and Feyre sitting in bed together, both yawning.

"I'm sorry I woke you up..." you said quietly, padding back to the bed and plopping yourself back down between them.

"Oh, nonsense Y/N," Feyre said softly, carding her fingers through your hair. "Don't ever feel bad about waking us up. Especially when you come back to bed for snuggles."

You hummed in agreement, but winced when another pain went through you.

"Are you okay, love?" Rhys asked, pressing a hand to your forehead.

"Mhm, just... a little pain happening."

Feyre frowned above you. "Pain? Where?"

Your expression matched her own as you placed your hand over your lower abdomen, at the bottom of your baby bump. "And a little in my back, too," you said, just before you realized.

Oh shit.

"I'm going into labor," you said, fear creeping over you.

"You're going into labor!" Both Rhys and Feyre exclaimed at the same time you spoke, all three of you exchanging looks before you all laughed for a moment, until it sunk in.

"Oh fuck, you're going into labor!" Rhys yelled, jumping up from the bed. "Quick, we need to get dressed and get the go bag and get in the car!"

You and Feyre shared a look, both of you still on the bed.

"Uhm... Rhys?" You asked, watching as he flew around the room, picking out a dress for you and Feyre and grabbing his own clothes, throwing them on quickly.

He paused for a moment, looking over to see the two of you, still relatively calm. "What? Why aren't you moving? Get up, get up!"

Feyre laughed from beside you. "Rhysie, she's not having contractions very close together, and her water hasn't broken yet. We don't have to rush quite so much."

He blinked at her for a moment, considering her words. "Nope, nope, get dressed. I'll make us some breakfast and pack everything up, but after that, it's the hospital for all of us!" Rhys exclaimed, breezing out of the room with his shirt unbuttoned and belt unbuckled.

You and Feyre shared a laugh together, muttering about him being a mother hen to each other, but you could tell that Feyre was nervous. Not that you weren't.

After all... You could very well be pushing three little humans out of you today, and if not today, then tomorrow.

Talk about scary...

Feyre helped dress you, the soft pink wrap dress that Rhys picked out comfortable and loose against your skin, soft slippers secured on your feet.

When you entered the main room, Rhys was already in a flurry of activity, switching between stirring the oatmeal he was cooking on the stove and packing up whatever he could get his hands on.

Feyre made sure you were sat at the table before disappearing into the bedroom, likely packing up all of your clothing and possessions to keep Rhys from having a heart attack at how much there was to do, and how little time he thought he had.

"I've already called Madja, she's going to meet us at the hospital in town in no more than two hours," Rhys informed you as he set a bowl of oatmeal in front of you. "How are you feeling? Any more contractions?" He asked with a gentle hand on your cheek.

"I'm doing fine so far, Rhysie. No more contractions yet."

"Good. Good," Rhys said, placing a kiss to the crown of your head. "Eat up, little love." He started to leave the table, but you caught your hand around his wrist.

"Wait," you pleaded. "Eat with me? Please?"

Rhys's expression softened at your tone, some of his panic ebbing away. "Of course, Y/N. I'll go get Feyre, and we can all eat together."

You smiled brightly at him, pleased that you would have one last meal as a family of three, rather than a family of six.

It was peaceful, once you had gotten both Rhys and Feyre to sit down and eat, both of them keeping a soothing hand on some part of you at all times.

The babies were kicking like crazy, obviously sensing that their time inside you was coming to an end, and seeming very excited to meet the world.

The calm ended once your face pinched with another contraction, though, Rhys immediately springing up to get the dishes washed and finish packing the rest of your things and lugging them out to the car.

Feyre sat with you while he bustled about, her hand resting over yours on your stomach while she talked about everything and nothing to distract you.

But soon Rhys had hoisted you into his arms once again and strapped you into the backseat, a sweet kiss pressed to your temple before he shut the door.

Feyre buckled in beside you, and you rested your head on her shoulder during the drive, soaking in the love she was giving you as she held you and stroked your hair.

By the time you reached the hospital, the contractions were coming closer together and lasting longer, a sure sign that you were nearing full-on labor.

Rhys settled you into a wheelchair before quickly leaving to park the car, promising that he would bring the go bag and for you and Feyre to head inside.

You and Feyre did just that, Feyre pushing you in to the front desk.

"Hello, what can I help you with?" The nurse asked, her eyes glued to the paperwork on her desk.

"Hi, uh, my wife is going into labor," Feyre replied, a hand running through your hair.

"Your wi-" The woman began to ask before she looked at the two of you, eyes sticking on the large bump of your belly. "Oh. I'll page OB right away, here's some paperwork for you to fill out."

"Thank you," Feyre said, grabbing the clipboard and pen from her and settling it in your lap before wheeling you over to the waiting area.

You had nearly finished filling out the paperwork together when Rhys flew through the doors, looking around frantically before his eyes landed on the two of you, immediately crossing the room to sit by you.

"Oh, good, you didn't get taken up yet. Well... Not good, but you know what I mean," Rhys rambled.

...

"This is the first time I've seen you nervous," you remarked, smiling when he looked offended.

"I am not nervous, I am appropriately aware of everything that is happening."

"Nervous," Feyre said, earning a light swat on the thigh from Rhys. "It's okay, Rhysie, I'm nervous too."

"Me too," you admitted, rubbing your belly absently.

"Well... Good, we're all nervous, we can all be nervous together," Rhys said, bobbing his head up and down.

You giggled at him, but was cut off by another contraction taking you off guard.

"Man... These things are annoying..."

"Y/N Night?" A nurse called from across the room, her eyes already locked on the three of you. Or, more specifically, the bump you possessed.

You were taken up to the second floor and given a nice room with a good view out the window, not that you could see it with all the doctors in the room.

As you were being transferred from a wheelchair to your bed, your water had broken, spilling down your legs and onto your feet.

The sensation had brought tears to your eyes, and your loving partners had so kindly cleaned you up without even a word of complaint, instead choosing to press loving kisses to your forehead and cheeks and hands as often as they could.

Madja had arrived only a half an hour after the three of you had, entering the room and parting the sea of doctors with her presence alone. Immediately she had given you steroids to help the babies' lungs develop as much as they could before you went into full labor, and had given you an epidural.

The feeling of your lower half being numb? Not your favorite. But you supposed it was better than feeling every contraction moving through you.

Rhys was pacing in the room, not able to stay still for a moment unless he was touching you in some way, but the fleet of doctors that had come to witness a birth of triplets had made that more and more difficult as the day wore on, to the point that you were beginning to feel a bit touch starved.

Feyre had stayed calmer, sitting in a chair that had a direct line of sight to you, but you saw her legs bouncing up and down, growing faster whenever a new doctor would touch and examine you.

After three hours of waiting to be left alone with your husband and wife, you were feeling fed up. Madja had just reentered the room after giving a short briefing to Rhys and Feyre, the two of them trailing behind her.

You made a pouty face, hoping that you looked as sad as you felt, not having enough access to your spouses.

Thankfully for you, Madja knew almost every one of you looks at this point, having seen you at least once a week for the past six months.

"Alright, that's enough exams for now, let's let the mother rest a bit," Madja commanded, the sea of white coats filtering out the door, taking their mumbled words with them.

You had a feeling that more than a few of them would have said choice words about the parenting situation of the babies.

But that didn't matter. Because when you looked at Feyre and Rhys, now by your sides, each holding one of your hands? You knew that you had everything you would ever need.

🤍🩵🤍💜🤍

Eight more hours later, and you were blessed with three beautiful, healthy baby girls. They were all small, yes, and were nearly swimming in their first onesies, but they were healthy.

They were healthy, and you had made it through labor safely, thanks to Madja's expertise.

And, of course, the parents of your children, who had stuck by you throughout the entire labor, offering their hands to squeeze and dabbing away your sweat and fanning you when you felt too hot.

They were perfect.

Your babies were perfect.

Life was perfect.

Little Astra, Aurora, and Ayla had already lit up your life with their presences, their tiny coos and cries music to your ears.

Rhys and Feyre had managed to squeeze themselves onto your hospital bed, each of you holding one of your precious little nuggets.

You had Ayla in your arms, the smallest of the triplets, but the loudest. Rhys had Astra, who had been born with a thick tuft of blue-black hair, her violet eyes wide as she surveyed the room. And Feyre was holding Aurora, the largest and most mobile of the three, her little hand already grasping at your fingers when you offered them to her.

You were exhausted, of course, but before you went to sleep for the first time as a mother, you wanted to snuggle and feed your babies, and spend some quiet time with your lovers.

"They're so..." You sighed, unable to even finish the thought.

"Perfect?" Rhys asked.

"Amazingly adorable?" Feyre suggested.

"Yes and yes. I just know... I know that they will own me forever," you said softly, taking in a deep huff of baby smell.

Fresh, sweet baby.

You could hardly believe that a one night stand, no matter how fantastic, had lead to this.

You had a family now, made up of two loving spouses and three perfect little babies.

And even if things got hard, which they surely would... You knew that everything would be alright.

Because the three of you? You can do this, together.

🤍🩵💖💜🤍

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