#good to get the creative juices flowing too

[vitiateoriginator]

I've been going thru a major creative block recently and I'm really depressed over it

[signedkoko]

Could I get a Mammon, Vox and Husk with a S/O who gets harassed on the street and their reaction? You can have full creative control over what type of harassment!

I love your fics- if this isn’t getting the creative juices flowing just let me know and I’ll request something different <3

🦷 anon

Husk | Mammon | Vox [Romantic]

In which some loathsome idiot thinks they'll get away with harassing their beloved s/o.

One of your favourite date nights is spent bar hopping

Pop a drink or two in each one, sometimes sharing one cocktail, his wing draped around you, your head leant on his shoulder, humming to the music surrounding you

Both of you had a preference for the less popular spots, the kinds of places you got the weirdest combinations, where he could be inspired and you could give him thoughts

The plus side of the smaller joints was that the music was never too loud, drinks were cheaper, and there was always a few spots free at the bar

Downside was that most places had their regulars, the kind of people who couldn't get in anywhere else

The kind of desperation that builds and spreads like mold in the corner of a dark room next to a leaky pipe

On a few occasions, someone would harmlessly ask to buy you a drink and would turn tail when Husk gave them his usually 'fuck off' look

But this time, the guy would just not get the hint

" What? Already claimed dibs on the bitch? "

Yeah- no, that attitude towards you is not going to fly

Not even three seconds and there's a bottle smashed on the drunk demons head, and three cards flying back into Husk's hand

That's when the bleeding starts

You slap a 20 down for your bill and jump straight up, already being dragged by Husk out the door

Insists if he stayed there you would have both gotten banned anyways, and he likes that spot

You guys don't really go out so casually without a good reason, or just for old times sake

A sin and his spouse on a city street in greed was just asking for bad things to happen

But still, if you asked and he had nothing that day, Mammon would always rather get quality time with you and people watch

Thats most of your conversation, pointing out demons and joking about what you think they are like, what the do, how they speak

It's always a fun game, until some newcomer saw you laughing at him and marched right up, clearly on something and clearly ready to have a go at someone

The moment he reaches for your wrist, his thumb falls to the floor, a messy and jagged cut the only sign of attack besides one of Mammons spider legs now revealed

Before he can even realize the pain or what's happened, Mammon lets out a menacing laugh

" Every extra inch towards my broad is another finger. "

That demon was already screaming and running away, most the crowd on the street that was watching now hurrying in any direction opposite of you and Mammon

" I'm only worth one finger? "

" Nah. Just being generous for once. "

Not really a street guy, but unfortunately some press conferences and events require mingling and interacting with others, which he never liked

Thankfully, with you he has an excuse to stay away from others, or show you off

He usually goes for the latter

He's all 'Have you met my wife?' 'My wife loves x and y!' 'Isn't my wife absolutely gorgeous?'

You are the first topic he speaks of after his company; you'd be the first if he didn't have to waste so much time being a salesman, but that is how the cookie crumbles

Sometimes when there's specific press releases, he has to send you off for a moment, where you usually go and mingle with some of the others in his industry you befriended

During one such interview, he couldn't help but spot out the corner of his eye, some lousy business woman drape her arm around your waist and grab at your hip

" Sorry yeah, this interview is over. "

Literally shoves his way over, sparks and electricity flying, to rip you out of her arms

" Baaabe, is this a friend? Whatever the case, we really gotta get going! "

Jealousy 3000

He's glad he stepped in after he overhears that lady had a habit of harassing other attendees

New clause in every interview; they have to include you or provide security over you while he is busy

Author's Note - Tooth anon comes in for another PIPIN HOT request!! I actually feel so bad because every time I take a break form writing is on yoru request and that really makes it look bad I am so sorry 😩

[angel-of-the-moons]

Aggravating

Dad Bod!Miguel x Spider-Woman!Reader

TW/CW: Smut. Smut in general. NSFW, PIV sex, office sex, teeth, hints at venom useage, a bit of pining(?) feelings! Body hair! Soft tummy Miguel! Dom(ish)!Miguel, a bit of bullying

MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

A/N: Blame @cupcakeinat0r for this. I really needed the distraction and our conversation is helping me a bit getting the creative among other things juices flowing!

Taglist: @tojishugetiddies

🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷

You had been... less than covert about the way you ogled your boss. On one hand, your Spidey mask was useful for hiding your eyes and face away from somebody's view; on the other hand, Miguel just somehow knew you were staring at him.

And... yeah. At first you were crushing on him, a young, single fresh-faced Spidey welcomed into a bigger picture suddenly comes face to face with the body of a Greek god. He swooped in to save you from a variant of Kraven before he could make a possibly fatal swipe.

After that, he admitted that he'd had an eye on you, such a promising candidate who just needed the right amount of guidance.

(The fact he has that gorgeous jawline and cheekbones that could cut glass plus those jaw-dropping eyes of his certainly helped you make your decision too.)

But you had been too much of a wimp to ever fess up, instead settling for pining in silence, throwing the occasional stare his way at his perfectly globed ass. (Seriously, did he purposefully design his suit to accentuate his ass or what?)

But the plain, flat-out ogling didn't begin until he began to gain more weight. Realizing his stress didn't have to be solely on his own shoulders, Miguel began to relax. He began to eat more, sleep more. Or, well, as much as a normal person should be eating and sleeping. You surmised he was likely dehydrated a lot, too...

Because once he picked up a steady diet (of what you didn't know, maybe he was a secret chef in the kitchen in addition to having the multiverse's greatest brain?) he began to look... healthier.

He gained weight, his formerly slim and perfectly cut abs and waistline began to fatten out, gain a delicious softness you wished to just lay your head over, or perhaps snuggle and squeeze.

Peter B made a joke to Miguel about comparing "dad bods" and god, when Miguel indulged him (mostly just to get him to leave him alone) he used his tech to have the top half of his suit vanish in rainbowy spiderweb-like patterns until he was naked from the waist up.

And... fuck. Your legs went weak at the sight of him.

Dark wisps of hair across his chest, spreading down his soft, plush-looking midsection to disappear beneath the waistline of his pants.

Even with that soft belly, Miguel looked built like a shitbrick house. Peter B had pouted, knowing he'd lost his little game before sauntering away, bragging about something along the lines of "well at least I have the prettiest baby mama in the whole multiverse!". Good for him, you had thought.

But very quickly as your eyes greedily raked up his frame, you realized he had been staring right back at you.

You very quickly rattled off some excuse and dropped off your report on your most recent mission, yanked your mask back down your face and scurried out of there.

Though you'd be lying if you didn't immediately shove your hand down your pants once you got home, playing with yourself at the mere thought of being pressed up against Miguel's soft-yet-imposing frame; feeling his dick (oh you just knew he was packing a monster, down there) stuff you full and stretch you out, the coarse dark haira brushing your clit with every slam of his hips.

You went to sleep thinking this was merely some kind of office crush, trying to force down the thoughts you had of your boss.

Little did you know, he often stole his own glances at you.

He needed to find a way to solve your little problems, soon.

🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷

"This is what you wanted, isn't it, princesa?" Miguel grunted, the sound of his hips slapping against your ass sinfully loud in his dark office.

Your body was perfectly illuminated by the dim orange lights on his monitors; every curve, dip and deliciously squeezable part of your jiggling ass as he fucked you.

The sounds your pussy made as you swallowed him deep were the most lewd you ever could have imagined yourself making, especially the little sounds coming from those pretty lips of yours.

Your suit has been torn right between your legs, freeing your soaked, swollen folds to his lascivious gaze before he had crammed two heavy fingers into your needy cunt.

Your tits squished against his desktop, and a whimper comes from you when he settles over you, the weight of his body pressing tighter down around you.

You could feel the soft flesh of his belly mold around your back, almost like a hug. Almost like how he had your head trapped in a headlock as he bullied his cock into you and stuffed you full of him.

Your brain was so set on your one-track focus of how good it felt to just have him fuck you, to use you, that you barely registered a word he said.

Having his warmth surround you and fill you had effectively rendered you dumb.

You choked slightly when you heard him hiss in your ear, his sharp fangs grazing the soft skin; he squeezed his arm a bit around your neck and that's what knocked you back into reality.

You were here. In his office, bent over and having your guts reorganized by a man you had been pining for for months.

The pent up sexual tension had finally exploded when he confessed his own interest in you, and he met you halfway with a kiss that was all tongue and need; loud and messy.

Like how he was bullying his cock into your tight little hole.

"My dick that good, bebé?" He panted, leaning back away from you to grip your hips in his meaty palms, squeezing your soft flesh as he stared, almost mesmerized at the creamy ring at the base of his cock as it disappeared into your dripping wet pussy.

Already on the floor between you was a small puddle of your slick.

"So good that I fucked you stupid after just a couple thrusts?" He said, his voice gravelly as he tried to keep it even, to betray the fact he wanted to just rut into you like a mad animal.

All you could do in reply was whine, a breathy sound that was almost a squeak as you mourned the loss of his soft body surrounding you.

The sound of him relentlessly fucking you cunt was abruptly halted and he let out a shaky breath, staring down at you. "I swear... did I nick you with my fangs? Shit... Maybe we should stop--"

"N-no!" You moaned out, desperately trying to roll yourself back against him in his grip. "Please, don't! I just--I just need more!"

Miguel grinned as you flattened your hands on the table, desperately trying to fuck yourself onto his cock but getting nowhere.

"Ahhh there's my good girl. Doing so good f'me." He purred, leaning back over you once again, his arms caging around you, encasing you in his wonderfully soft warmth, the hair on his body tickling your skin.

His lips traced the shell of your ear, his hot breath ghosting over your sweaty skin;

"Wanna watch you take my cock all day. Gonna fuck you so hard you won't be able to walk straight for a month--"

You made a long, loud mewl as he snapped his hips in suddenly, bottoming out so hard you felt him smash into your cervix; almost making you pass out from the force of it alone.

"This is what you wanted, sweetheart. Jus' giving it all t'you." He groaned, his eyes rolling back into his skull as he began relentlessly pounding into you once again.

[dudeitiskarev]

What If… | Aaron Hotchner

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x female reader

Summary: Aaron gets sick on the way home from a case, and since his symptoms are too similar to pregnancies, Reid introduces him to ‘sympathetic pregnancy’. Which makes Aaron wonder… what if?

Tags/warnings: sick Hotch :(; established relationship; sympathetic pregnancy symptoms; pregnancy scare; suggestive content; Jack and Haley don’t exist in this universe.

Word count: 1.4k

Author's note: something short, sweet and silly to keep my creative juices flowing. Hope you like it!

HOTCH MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

The last time Aaron got sick was over four years ago. 

Back then, he had no one to look after him, and he refused to go to the ER because it was just a cold (it took him two weeks to get a full recovery, and if it weren’t because of Penelope’s magic potion, it would’ve lasted a month). 

Now, he couldn’t wait to get home. To you.  

"No offense, Hotch, but could you please sit...over there?" JJ gestured with her head to the empty seat at the end of the jet after Hotch returned from the toilet for the third time. All the color of his face was gone. "I don't want to bring some flu home with Henry."

"It's not the flu," Aaron's voice came out raspy, and chose to sit next to Reid instead of next to JJ. His throat was still burning from puking everything he’d eaten for breakfast. It must’ve been something he ate.

"You've been feeling weird for the two days," Rossi commented, "In the mornings."

"Ugh, morning sickness is the worst," JJ casually said through a small laugh.

Emily laughed, too. "Are you implying Hotch might be pregnant?" 

Everyone laughed except for Reid. "Studies have shown that men can get pregnancy symptoms while their wives are pregnant,” he began. “It's called sympathetic pregnancy."

"You mean Hotch's girl might be pregnant?" Morgan quirked his brows.

A thick silence filled the jet, and then Rossi asked, "Have you guys been trying?" 

Hotch merely shook his head. It had been a topic of conversation before getting married, of course, and the plan of trying for a baby was after five years of marriage (you really liked each other’s company as it was) and it’s only been two. 

The idea of Hotch’s girl being pregnant vanished as quickly as it came, but Hotch didn’t let it go. He didn’t think you could be pregnant, but the constant thought of you carrying his child helped him get through the three-hour journey back home. 

He called your name as soon as he shut the front door, even though he knew you weren’t back from work just yet (he didn’t want to tell you he was feeling sick, or else you would’ve dropped everything to be there when he made it back). 

His entire body was aching by now and all he managed to do was strip out of his work clothes and get in bed, turning himself into a shivering cocoon. 

The bed sank next to him, and a soft kiss landed on his cheek, pulling him out of his not-so-deep slumber.

“Hi.” Your bright eyes were right there on his face.

“Hey.” He fluttered his eyes open to capture your whole beauty. 

"Why are you in bed?" You asked with half-a-pout. "Are you feeling sick?" Your hand flew to his forehead to feel his temperature, and your face dropped. “You’re burning.”

"I feel better now." He snuck one arm out of the bed covers and caressed your cheek to greet you properly. He’d missed you so much. 

"Why didn't you tell me?” You were quick to reprimand him with a caring frown. “I could've brought you some medicine."

"I don't know, I don't think I need it.” He shook his head, raising his brows. “I feel much better now."

He did feel better now that you were there, but he still didn’t feel quite good. 

"You look pale. Have you eaten?" You asked and he shook his head. "I’m gonna make you some soup," you replied, already getting up.

"No, just…” he grabbed you by your wrist and pulled you back to bed.  “Stay here with me for a while?" 

Your whole body softened. You gave in right away, kicked off your shoes and clasped every bit off you with his body, ending up nose to nose. 

The thought of you being pregnant came to him again and he couldn’t help but smile.

“What?” You frowned.

"You know Reid," he started. "He’s the smartest person I know and he mentioned this thing that happens to men when their wives are pregnant."

"This thing?" you snickered, running your fingers through the side of his head.

"When men show pregnancy symptoms and it's the woman who actually is?"

You paused all movements for a moment. "What are you saying?"

"I don't know." He merely shrugged. "I thought it was...interesting."

You pecked his lips and went back to stroke his hair again. "You think I could be pregnant?"

"I don’t know, could you?" 

"I don’t think so. I haven't felt anything strange." You shrugged, too. 

Aaron placed a soft kiss at the corner of your mouth and stayed there, lips glued on you as he asked, mumbling, "Didn't you say the other day that your...boobs were sore?"

"Yeah?"

"And that food craving you had at almost midnight?" he then teased by your ear.

"We had," you laughed at the ticklish feeling of his deep voice. 

“Alright,” he laughed, pulling back. “You’re right.”

"But I guess it's…” You breathed in. “Unusual."

"A little." He smiled. "How effective is your birth control?"

"Very, but there’s always the risk."

You stare at each other for a moment. There was a gleam in your eyes he was sure it had some reflection of his own. He loved you so much. It wouldn’t be so bad if you were pregnant. 

“I’m gonna go to the drugstore and get you some medicine. You’re not looking very well.” You kissed the top of his head and left him there.

In the store, you looked up and a bunch of pregnancy tests winked at you. You hesitated whether to buy one or not. You hadn't felt anything odd that could point out to a pregnancy—besides what Aaron had mentioned.

"Is that all?" The cashier asked you.

You paused, looking up again. "And two pregnancy tests, please."

Soon, you were back home and found Aaron half asleep in the same position you’d left him. You told him to sit upright as you went to prepare him some herbal tea for his stomach to complement the medicine.

“This can help you for a few hours.” You sat next to him and handed him the warm mug. “But if you get worse we’ll have to go to the ER.” 

“Thanks, honey,” he replied.

“And…I bought these, too." You showed him the pregnancy tests. You’d made sure they were different brands just in case one of them wasn’t of good quality. "You planted a seed in my brain, so I guessed we could rule it out right away instead of having the uncertainty.”

“Sorry, I just…” Aaron shut his eyes for a second in deep thought. “I didn’t think it could happen before our plans since everything has turned out exactly how we want.”

“I know, but if it’s something you want to talk about… make some plan changes, we definitely should.”

He reached for your hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Let’s rule it out first.”

“What if it's positive?" You tilted your brows with curiosity. 

"I don't know.” He smiled. “What if?" 

Maybe it was the tea you’d made him, but the color of his face was back. You went to the bathroom to get it all over with and were in and out in less than five minutes. 

“Now we wait.” You put both tests on the nightstand and set the timer for three minutes. 

Aaron tapped the bed next to him for you to join him and he pulled you close by your waist, kissing your temple. 

"I’m scared, what if it’s actually positive?”

“We’re gonna have to make some… adjustments in our lives. But now or later, I want you to know that I want it all,” he confessed, planting a squishy kiss on your cheek. 

The alarm went off and you reached for both tests right away, holding them up. 

'NOT PREGNANT', showed the first one, and a single line showed the other one.

“Okay, I’m a bit relieved.” You put the tests aside and looked at him. “And you’re… not. Are you okay?”

“I am I just…” he licked his lips. 

“Aaron, do you really want to have a baby soon?”

“No, no,” he shook his head. “We’re perfect like this. Is just… seeing JJ with her baby does make me want to hurry some of our plans sometimes.”

“That sounds like baby fever,” you teased him. 

Aaron shook his head and pulled you down in bed, attacking your face with kisses and making a sweet sound after each one. 

“Oh, someone’s feeling better,” you laughed. “Maybe we could just stick to practicing.”

“Well”—he kissed right below your ear—”I am, in fact, feeling much, much better.”

[tearsofastraeax]

hiii i just love ur stories and i was wondering, could u write a story where a lot of girls flirt with ghost (cause he's just so hot tbh) and we're crying and feeling bad bcs we're scared he'll find better since he dosen't reject or ignore them??

ty a lot and take care <3

thank u anon ♡ i had so much fun writing a lil angst

sorry it took me longer than expected to wrap up your request, the creative juices are not flowing these days, but i hope you enjoy ♡₊ ⊹

It's no surprise to you that going out with an incredibly fine piece of man is going to come with some jealous feelings here and there.

Just a couple weeks after you started to hang out with Ghost, you noticed women staring at him. But you didn't blame them, how could they not stare? Ghost just naturally attracts women, with his broad shoulders, his veiny arms, those giant hands ... you could go on and on forever.

But you never expected to find yourself sitting in your bedroom, hiding underneath the blanket and silently sobbing into your pillow because of it.

Earlier that day when you were out with Ghost for a drink it really hit you. You had barely left for a minute to head to the bathroom, but when you came back you saw a beautiful woman standing next to him. Inching closer and closer to him, her hand on his shoulder and a flirty smirk on her face. And it didn't look like he was opposed to it in the slightest. His body was slightly angled towards her, his face covered in mystery behind his mask, but you could feel his smile, you just knew.

Your heart felt like it was about to drop, break apart, stop beating all together. Your stomach was in knots. Your thoughts ran a mile a minute, you had no right to be jealous, right? You were only seeing the man for a couple of weeks now, nothing serious... only, at one point, unbeknownst to you, your little heart had accepted him in and made it serious. You were fucked, royally fucked.

To feign calmness you took a slow breath, in and out. Before you made your way back to Simon and the woman still plastered to his side. You coughed uncomfortably to make them both aware of your presence.

It took him a moment to take his eyes off the woman, before he turned to you.

"Oh, this is my friend, y/n," he looked back towards her, gesturing to you.

You all but managed to swallow the big lump that had formed in your throat. His friend? Is that all you were? A friend? Nothing more? Did it only take one beautiful woman to suddenly make you nothing but a friend to him? You should have known this, it was just too good to be true. Of course he would find someone better than you. You felt your eyes begin to water, but you aggressively blinked the tears away. No, you were better than this.

"Yea, his friend", you pressed out, a tight and obviously fake smile on your lips. "Who is just about to leave actually. Have fun."

You grabbed the jacket haphazardly thrown over the seat next to the one you were just sitting on and turned around. Your legs carrying you out of the bar, you couldn't wait to get out of there, to just get away, as far as possible.

What you didn't see was Ghost's slightly confused expression as he watched you leave. But what you did know was he didn't follow you. Didn't he notice how upset you were? Did he just not care?

You huffed out an annoyed sigh, at yourself, at him, at the world, at everything.

You had barely made it home, slamming the door behind you, before the tears came. They welled up, making everything blurry, and then they came crashing over you like a wave, making it hard to breathe, harder to see and impossible to do anything but slide down against the door and sob into your hands.

And there you were, laying in bed, an hour later, still fucking pissed and sad and helpless and jealous and ...

Your phone vibrated next to you, Simons name popping up on your screen. You tried to ignore the call but he immediately called again. Deciding to pick it up you heard a low growl in your ear, the hairs on your neck standing up, a slight shiver running down your back.

“Open the fucking door, y/n.”

The edge in his tone made you immediately jump off the bed. For a quick moment though you stopped in your tracks, hating how he could command you and make you feel, how he had so much power over you when clearly he didn't feel the same about you.

But you heard him pounding on your door, so you hurried to open it. The door swung open and his eyes immediately bore into yours. You swallowed down a thick lump in your throat as he crowded into you, effectively pushing the two of you into the apartment. He slammed the door behind him shut and stared down at you, never breaking eye contact.

"What the fuck was that?" He growled. You couldn’t fucking believe his attitude, weren’t you the one that was supposed to be angry?

You took in a deep breath before you answered, "well, I wasn't the one flirting with some chick..."

You meant for the words to come out more powerful, maybe even as aggressive as his. To make him understand that he had no fucking right to barge in here like this and act as if he had the right to demand answers.

"You...", his gaze softened then, shifting into ... surprise? "You're jealous?"

All you could do was shrug, feeling too raw from crying to vocalise your feelings. But to your surprise, he didn't say another word, his hand softly cradling your cheek. Your skin underneath his felt hot to the touch as you looked up to him. His eyes seemed so soft and gentle then, making your breath hitch in your throat. The feeling of him wrapped around you like a warm blanket was overwhelming. His gesture nearly stitching your heart back together all by itself.

"I'm sorry... I-", was all he could say before his lips pressed onto yours, so harsh and hurried, yet somehow gentle and sweet.

His hands slowly travelled down your body, once he reached your ass, he lifted you up so effortlessly, your legs immediately wrapping around his, as he carried you to the bedroom.

He gently whispered between kisses, "I'm gonna make it up to you, I promise."

[physalian]

In Defense of Fanfiction (Or the perfect starting point for your original novel)

Fanfic gets a bad rap pretty much everywhere except Tumblr. It’s misunderstood and misrepresented by its average works, seen as juvenile and cringey, or a banal point of contention between a famous person or piece of media and its fans.

Outside of fanfic that writes about real people, especially smut fics of real people, I support the art wholeheartedly. Fictional characters are one thing, but personally, caricaturing a celebrity’s life for public consumption and writing or drawing them in compromising content without their consent is a little weird. You do you. Don’t like, don’t read, as they say.

Fanfic is the perfect starting point for a few reasons:

It places you in a creative box and forces you to work within those constraints

It does all the worldbuilding and character concepts for you

It lets you write way outside your comfort zone

When published and receiving feedback, it boosts your self-confidence

It's incredibly flexible

It’s practice. All practice is good practice

—

Behold your creative box

When I was little I had no idea the majority of fanfic was shipping fics. I always pictured and looked for canon-divergent alternate universes. Like, what if X happened in this episode instead of Y? What if this character never died?

Fanfic demands you work within someone else’s canon, whether it’s an OC in the canonical world, or the canonical characters in an AU. These are like little bowling bumpers saving you from the gutter, but also keeping you on a straight-ish path toward the pins.

The indecisiveness of too many choices can be too intimidating when you’re first starting out. You want to be a writer but you have no idea where to begin, what genre to pick, what characters you want to chronicle, what themes you want to explore.

Even if it sits on your computer never to see the light of day, you still got those creative juices flowing.

Pre-packaged worldbuilding

Sometimes all we want is to get to the good stuff. Maybe I want to write a story about elemental magicians but Last Airbender already exists and I just want to play in a pre-existing sandbox. So I write some OCs into that world and have a free-for-all.

I don’t have to come up with my own lore, world history, magic system rules and mechanics, politics, geography—any of it. I get to just focus on the characters.

Even if you’re writing an AU, like say a coffee shop AU, you don’t have to think about brand new characters, you can just think “What would M do?” and go from there. The trade-off is your readers will expect canonical characters to behave in-character, but I think it’s worth it.

Stretch beyond your comfort zone!

Do you hate writing action scenes? Go practice with a shonen anime fic. Need work on dialogue? Write some high-fantasy fic, or a courtroom drama. Practice a fistfight by watching fistfights and writing what you see, and do it over and over again until what you read makes you feel like you're watching what’s on screen.

But beyond that—practice genres that you aren’t super familiar with. If you’re new to fantasy, write fantasy fic. Or a mystery novel/show, thriller, comedy, satire, adventure, what have you. The nature of fanfic still gives you those “guardrails” and you can get some brutally honest feedback on how you’re doing.

And, of course, the realm of M-rated romance and smut fics. I haven’t because I think I would die of embarrassment if I tried and I never intend to include sex scenes in my works anyway, but if you do want to, use the internet as your test audience. Post it on a throwaway account if you’re nervous.

Build that self-confidence!

The fandoms I used to write for are super dead, so it’s insane how I still get email notifications that so-and-so liked my fic to this day. Comments are as elusive as ever, but random strangers on the internet telling me they liked my work is a magical reassurance that my writing isn’t actually awful.

Random strangers on the internet are, as we all know, beholden to no moral obligation to be kind to your little avatar face, or be kind to be polite. So a rando taking the time to like my work or even leave a positive comment can feel more honest than one of my friends telling me what they think I want to hear.

I tend to avoid the more present aspects of fandom like online communities, forums, social media, what have you, so I get a delayed and diluted aspect of any given fandom through completed works. Which means, in general, I get to avoid the worst and most toxic aspects of fandom and get to sift through positive feedback and critique.

Even if your fanfic isn’t written with stellar prose, it’s fanfic. We don’t expect Pulitzer-prize winning content. And if your work isn’t up to snuff, people are more likely to just ignore it than put you on blast (at least in my experience, I never got a bad comment or a “flame” in the old FFN days).

Fanfic doesn’t care about the rules of published literature

On the one hand, try not to practice bad habits, but with this point I mean that your layout, punctuation, formatting, paragraph styles, chapter length–all of it is beholden to no rules. I get as annoyed as the next reader with giant blocks of paragraphs, or the double-spacing between pages of single-sentence paragraphs, but if the story’s good enough I might ignore it.

There’s more than just straight narrative fics, though. People write “chat” fics, or long streams of text and group chat conversations. The scene breaks can come super rapidly–I’ve seen fics with a single sentence in between line breaks to show the passage of time. And without the polish of a traditionally published novel, I’ve never seen a purer distillation of author voice in any medium more than fanfic.

All practice is good practice

Even if it’s crack fiction, or a one-off one-shot, or something meant to be lighthearted and straightforward and free from complex worldbuilding and intricate plots. It really helps break writer’s block when you can shift gears and headspaces entirely and you can get relatively instant feedback to keep you motivated.

Beyond that, the “guardrails” help you stay consistent as far as character growth and personality if you struggle with designing rich characters.

The most recent fanfic I wrote was just a couple years ago, for a dead fandom I didn’t think would get any traffic whatsoever. It wasn’t my original works, but the feedback on that fic gave me the kick in the butt I needed to get back into writing more seriously.

—

In short, I support fanfic. I may not be proud of my earliest fics' prose now, but I am proud that they walked so I can now run.

[hangesbabymomma]

₊˚⊹🚿 All Night

warnings/content - use of pet names (mama, lovely), shower sex, p in v, unprotective sex (please wrap it before whomp whomping🙏🏽), rough-ish (not really) sex, gojo eating you out // pairing - gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary - you and gojo having your usual passionate time in the shower but gojo can’t get enough of you

You and Gojo have been going at it in the shower for a while now. Usually you’d be complaining about how long it’s been but at this point you’re too fucked out to care.

“C’mon mama, we’re almost done just a little more…” Gojo huffed in your ear before speeding up his thrusting. One hand was gripping on Gojo’s hair with the other on his shoulder, the mix of the warm shower water and the passionate love making the pleasure too much to handle, Your moaning increasing as you felt Gojo abuse your sloppy cunt.

“Wai- wait Gojo! auh.. slow downnn!” You whined out but your pleads fell on deaf ears as Gojo’s cock continued to ram into you.

“Feels s’good and warm.. Fuck, you’re driving me crazy…” Gojo groaned before kissing your neck. You felt like you were seeing stars at this point. The way Gojo spoke to you, the pace he was fucking you in, the kisses he planted all over your neck, you felt like you were in complete heaven.

“I’m close..“ You moaned out, the grip you had on your boyfriend’s shoulder increased, your legs feeling like they were gonna give in any second.

“Yeah?” Gojo smirked at your fucked out expression before ramming into you in a harsh way again. You let out more lewd noises as your back arched off the shower wall, a mix of you and Gojo’s cum flowing out and dripping down on the shower floor.

“Let me clean that for you,” Gojo whispered before getting on his knees and licking at the mess both of you made, his tongue licking in between your soft folds. You moan, feeling your legs start to tremble and shake again due to the pure ecstasy you were getting. Gojo then started to flick his tongue around your clit, you letting out soft gasps and moans as a result.

“Tastes so fuckin’ good.. need more of this pussy,” He spoke into your crotch, the vibration of his voice against your clit sending you to cloud 9. Just as you know it, you felt yourself wanting to cum for a second time.

“Baby m’ cumming again..” You moaned out, your hands tangled in Gojo’s wet, white locks as he continued to lap at your juices.

“Go ahead, cum for me lovely.” Gojo started to move his tongue a bit faster than before, his blue eyes looking directly up at you to admire his work. Soon, you felt your climax reaching its peak. Your eyes fluttered shut as you let out soft gasps, cumming all over Gojo’s face and in his mouth.

——————

After you both got cleaned up and dried off, you both laid down in bed with Gojo resting his head on your chest. You picked up your phone, your eyes widening in surprise when you realized it was midnight already. You look down at Gojo, who’s already fast asleep with his arms wrapped around your waist. You took a deep breath before wrapping your arms around Gojo, the feeling of tiredness finally taking over as you fell asleep in each other’s arms.

a/n: first smut post lowkey kinda hate this but it’s whatever 😭 just a lil something before my creativity runs out again LMAO

[sunofpandora]

Heyyy so I saw your requests post and I’ve been dying to get this one off my chest, so how about a neteyam x omaticaya! warrior! reader where reader’s a fierce warrior (maybe a protege of one of the higher ups). And we all know Neteyam (the mighty warrior lol) is strong and also one of the best their age, but what if Neteyam had such intense feelings for her that all he wants to do is impress her but whenever she comes around he gets all klutzy and flustered? And of course she finds it funny and cute and all that jazz. Just fluff I NEED FLUFF

P.s. The decision to fulfill this request is yours and I won’t be upset if you decide you don’t want to. As long as you’re comfortable, all’s fine by me.

But yeaaa have a good day/night :)

Authors note:

Hi babes!

So I loved this request so much! So I decided to make my very first actual long series! ‘Virago’ is going to be an original work and one of my first long projects. Unfortunately, I will not have a TON of time to do smaller requests in between chapters but i will def try! I’m very excited for this and i wouldn't have even considered this without the request so thank you so, so much.   

                                     

                                                  V I R A G O                   

Part 1.

The Day the Sky Turned Red.

8.7k words.

𝓭𝓮𝓽𝓪𝓲𝓵𝓼/𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼/𝓼𝔂𝓷𝓸𝓹𝓼𝓲𝓼/

‘Y/n was made of fire. Oh, a goddess girl with lips of lightning and a caged Phoenx under her skin. Neteyam is just the ashes and remains of the heavens she crushed under her heel.’

When grief plagues the young warrior, Neteyam gives her a gift. But it is enough to console the flames in her heart?

Neteyam and reader having a sun x moon relationship (hello 'diaphanous’ readers <3)

Warnings: Descriptions of death/ parental death/ reader is a war orphan/ as always, spider, the reader, and Lo’ak are a trio/ Lo’ak and Reader being platonic soulmates?/ Spider and Reader being trauma twins/ Neteyam being lovesic/ Neteyam being nervous and shy around reader/ Neytiri being mother/ Jake being the husband i wish i had/ Tuk being a little sister and looking up to y/n/ Mentions of grace’s school.

Mentions of insecurity, blood, war, guns, reader being mommy/

I think that’s it?

Oh right, Reader fell first but neteyam fell WAY harder.

Extra info:

Y/n is one year younger than neteyam, the first part of this chapter is a flashback to when y/n was 15. Kiri, Lo’ak and Tuk are the agesthey are in atwow for the first part of the story. They age up in part 2 (in story)

(Ka’lik is the name of Y/ns father, her mother’s name is Zensira. Both were warriors, but Zensira was the best songstress in the clan. (Ninat go cry to the plant in the corner)) 

Super important note for the request sender:

Hey gorgeous so ik you asked for fluff and don't worry babes. I hear ya loud and clear. Unfortunately the first part of this chapter will be a bit angsty bc the creative juice were flowing and i got carried away but I swear on my grave the rest is nothing but fluff and lovey dovey shenanigans,

Not proofread

☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆

To some, surrender was a comfort. A sanctuary of softly spoken submission.

To Y/n? It was a ‘bitch move’

3 years ago.

Day the sky people returned.

Y/n is 15-16

The Na’vi say, every person is born twice.

That we can redeem ourselves in the eyes of the great mother. 

That being truly evil doesn't mean just craving the pain of others. 

That the life of a single diseased root does not kill the whole tree.

That darkness is deadly, because like the brothers and sisters of bountiful green that dwell in the great mother’s garden, we too need sunlight to grow.

Your mother always told you monsters aren't born from a seed.

They grow when they are deprived of light.

But sometimes, we find solace in even the darkest of places. 

That sometimes there's comfort in the dense night. Where others see hell, you build a home.

Sometimes we thrive in darkness because we feel we do not deserve the glory of sunlight. 

Is it wrong? Is it terrible of you?

To see light where the great mother’s grace and the violence of the sky demons collide?

Things that were not meant to tear the ground of our great mother’s delicate skin.

Their metals and turning wheels, their combat boots and weapons that scream and spit fire.

But did it belong in your hands?

Your father would say, 

“Each person is a thread, weaved within a tapestry that tells a story.”

The thing about stories is that sometimes, they may not always end well, or worse, they end too early. Some people stretch the thread as far as they can, too unsettled to be spread too thin, too soon.

Change is fundamental. Mo’at reminded you “there is no death, only change”

A moral structure that refuses to be severed. You believe that's whats what distincts na’vi from the sky people. Humans are quite flawed creatures. Humans love to dream and dance about stars and rain because their planet refuses to cry for them any longer. Humans dwell with memories that are haunted with light that only exists in the past, lingering behind desire to relive. Humans are afraid of grief, or loss. Of the empty void that lingers behind the shadows. Humans love to selfishly cling to the fantasy they don't live in.

You will never understand why they put themselves through such violent tendencies. To torture themselves. To provide reach towards an unseen daydream just to rip it out of their hands.

Humans remain. Na’vi evolve.

Na’vi find solace within the endless sky. Burning with color, blazing infinite. Na’vi dance on the precipice of the clouds. 

Grief came over like the waves grazing the tide, promising reassurance and return.

Violence was never a necessity. A lingering intrusion of a spark that refused to become a flame. 

But what lies beyond the sky? Was there truly a shadow behind the sun?

When the embers refused to settle.

You found yourself infatuated with open spaces. Abundance found within indecipherable notions.

Cracks in the mountains. Small tears in the tapestry where light leaked through the canopy of the trees.

Nothingness was never a threat.

Not when the promise of warmth remained.

☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆

Y/n met grief when she was only a child.

When she was 15, the RDA returned.

The day the sky turned red was the day the air smelled of sulfur and blood. 

Gray and red were never a pretty combination.

The demon ship’s wings stirred the trees and a storm of dust arise, 

Screaming, everyone running, the distant screeches of ikran and war cries.

The night your parents went out to gather some herbs, and never returned. 

When the pale light of the moon became a blazing, scorching, blanket of blankness that simmered into a forest engulfed in white flames. 

You found your mothers songcord on the ground the next morning.

Her body stained with red.

You stood next to Neteyam at your parent’s funeral.

You watched as Mo’ats hands guided the delicate floating Atokirina to rest upon your mothers chest as she murmured a prayer. 

People have this inherent conception that the hardest part of grief is change.

The loss of warmth in the safest of places, when the shadows loom rather than live. 

In reality, it's this unnamed feeling of a void.

Love is the amplification of a connection. Love distracts. It paralyzes you within its sanctuary of promises.

Grief feels like a shield with a hole blown through the middle. When the connection is shattered, and the sky is no longer protected without the scattered solace of the stars to veil the blank spaces.

Emptiness no longer infatuated you.

The sky without the stars is not a mystery anymore.

Neteyam held your hand. It didn't aid the hollowness within the cup of your palm. Guilt revenues in a realization, that even the great mother’s solace could not soothe this wound. This ache. This pain.

Neytiri’s soft sobs scorch the air with a soreness, the morning mist. Her fingertips, victims of bow strings and arrowhead edges gently brush the flowers placed around your mothers body. 

Neytiri was your mother’s sister. Not biologically. Preservations in our blood don’t always remain unsevered when a bond is born.

Your mother sobbed with her when hometree collapsed. Helped unbraid her hair for her night with Jake. Your mother had saved Neytiri’s life.

All those years ago when the RDA invaded Grace's school. When her body trembled at the sight of sylwanins blood that painted the floor and the walls, your mother walling as she desperately tried to drag Neytiri away.

To have such a bond. The heartbeat of one another emplaced in your bones, to sing a goodbye song with cruel unmeasured melodies. 

Jake held neytiri, gently rubbing circles onto her back, his own grievances had been paid due to earlier. 

Kiri’s tear stained cheeks didnt go unnoticed. She stood close to her father, Tuk’s tiny body squished between them as Kiri sobbed into Jake's shoulder . Kiri had always admired your mother. Chasing her shadow like wisp catching the breeze ever since she was a child. A woman of eywa. A healer. A hunter. Her heartbeat reserved for her home. Her people. Her daughter.

Lo’ak had placed his own tribute to the small spread laid out before the gently laid corpses.

A small carved arrowhead. 

Your father took over your mother’s job when she had other jobs to attend to, as being the one who trained a young group of warriors. Lo’ak included. He was patient with Lo’ak. Never discouraged him. A father liek mentorship had bloomed. So when his time came to join the great mother, Lo’ak contributed his own item of remembrance.

Lo’ak gave his arrowhead.

Tuk gave a small flower.

Kiri gave a small bundle of herbs the omaticaya believed was to aid the departing spirit on their journey.

Neytiri added a few carved beads from an anklet she wore. One your mother, Neytiri and Sylwanin had shared over the years, each of the three contributing beads or small trinkets to the piece.

Jake gave some beads as well. From a necklace your mother helped him make Neytiri when he struggled with the stringing of the oddly-shaped beads back when Jake was training for iknimiya, attempting to woo the young blue-skinned warrior he knew as neytiri.

All the omaticaya came to bear their gifts. Neteyam included, who gave you the gift of his warmth.

He cradled your hand in his, he raised it to his chest when the roots covered your parents bodies. 

You’ve loved Neteyam for many years now. Watching him grow from a boy to a man. 

You grew up next to the sullys. Your heights measured next to theirs as a child. Neteyam, Lo’ak, Kiri, even little tuk had built a circle around you. You were a part of their lives. They were  piece of yours. 

You found him in an irregular-shaped void in your heart that only he could fit in. Nights were filled of him. His voice. His eyes. His hands. The curve of his nose and the coves of his lips. 

His voice was made of tender summers. His eyes were liquid gold.

You saw him. You truly, truly saw him. Not the evascent shell of the perfect warrior or son made of stone. 

You saw him in the bleak day and in the night. When reality rivaled your thoughts of him, when the warmth of his touch seemed ephemeral, the invisible interstellar you swore was not a figment of your fantasies. You settled yourself from afar. Sullied yourself with stains of shame from the secrets you kept from him. The thousands of words you harbored, right next to the stars you swore you would steal for him.

This unrepeatable pattern became tiring, something you yearned to touch but your hands couldnt reach.

To tug on the silver string that dangled from this disguise he wore. This mask. This ruse of your heart.

He was to find the perfect mate. The perfect woman, A women to be the closest to an eywa incarnate. That wasn’t you. That could never be you.

Perfect with no edges. No uncalled for curves and no outward coves.

So you settled once again with the itching of your palms and the aching of your heart.

He was not yours.

Distance became a familiarity because distance was safe. 

There was a time where the itching in your palmsd for his. Now, his had felt hollow as it held yours now.

Grief was a funny thing.

You stood here, your skin feels more like a shell. Your mirror feels more like a window.

Staring at yourself with pity.

Such a weak thing she is.

Sobbing.

What once was warmth and abundant is now hollow and overcast by anguish.

You start to resonate with the corpses that once rested in your line of sight before the roots of the tree engulfed them.

Why is it that the sunlight denies you shelter?

Why must your whole become hollow? The ashes of what it once was line a new path. 

Is the sun falling? Have the stars collapsed? Will anyone catch them for you?

What is this? This pain? This agony? Why must it overcast your morals? Your rationality of peace? This homage harbors the resdiual of what little warmth is salvaged from this sunset of black. 

You feel the merciless fire in your veins. You want revenge. The cage of a Phoenix becomes an eternity of warmth. 

Even with neteyam at your side, the stars are falling. And the sunlight feels cold.

⋆｡☁︎｡⋆｡ ☾ ｡⋆⋆⋆｡☁︎｡⋆｡ ☾ ｡⋆⋆⋆｡☁︎｡⋆｡ ☾ ｡⋆⋆⋆｡☁︎｡⋆｡ ☾ ｡⋆⋆

Later that evening, the clan settled after Jake announced that his clan had to relocate to the Hallelujah mountains, where everyone would rebuild a stronghold and dwell with the loyal humans. To avoid any more bloodshed, Where the humans couldn't find you.

 You sat in the Sully’s Marui, Neytiri behind you as you sat infront of the fire.

She rebraided your hair. You had mo’at and kiri unbraided for the funeral. Neytiri’s soft humming soothes you a bit, but your hands haven’t ceased their small tremors of shaking.

She gently runs her hands through your locks, placing a few beads on each braid.

Th hut is silent, Neteyam sits in the corner, he hasn’t spoken since after the funeral.

Tuk perches on Jakes lap asleep, Kiri at your side, rubbing your back. Lo’ak sat on the other side of you, resting his head on your shoulder.

“My sweet”

Neytiri’s melodic whisper whisked through the heavy gray.

“We leave in a few days time, at first light for our new home,”

She paused, her thought lingering behind a wall of hesitation, she exchanges a look with Jake, who nods at her, gently taking tuk off his lap for a moment,

“Y/n, hon, with what's occurred..-”

He waved one hand around, flicking his wrist against the air to try and demonstrate some kind of invisible concept.

But you know he was referring to your parents deaths.

“We don’t think you should be alone.” Jake adds. Neteyam nods with his dad’s words, attempting to gain some kind of partaking in this conversation without speaking.

Neytiri rests her hand on your shoulder, making Lo’ak lift his head to peer at you. 

“What are you saying?”

It comes out as a breath, the unveiled remnants of the traumatic experience you had endured still fresh on your still-processing mind.

“Ma yawntu…We want you to stay with us when we settle in our new home. To stay in our home. We can take care of you.”

The warmth of the fire feels pale for a moment. I’ts vulnerability. Its shallow. Yet, Its deep, and dark, and you can’t see the bottom. Your’e left unguarded for a moment. 

“I’ll be fine on my own-“

You pause when you realize how hoarse your voice sounds. you clear your throat, your gaze meeting Jake’s. His eyes soften a you an you can tell its pity. Something you would have considered affection becomes an insult. A weakness.

“I’ll be okay. I’m not helpless. I can provide for myself.”

Jake sighs and shakes his head, his words calm.

“Y/n. I know you are strong. Hell, you’re one of the strongest i know, kid. But This is not something we’re going to let you carry alone, I made-”

He pauses, taking a breath, his head tilting down a bit and his eyes squeezing shut before he raises his head to continue.

“I made a promise. To the people. To the clan. To keep everyone safe. And to your parents, we would look out for you if anything ever happened.”

The lump in your throat is dry as you swallow.

Neytiri kisses your head gently.

“Ma yawntu, we will look after you..we will guide you on this path.”

She gently guides you to look at her bow in the corner.

“My father. He gave me that bow as he laid dying.”

The air becomes thick, even the moonlight seems to freeze with its slow creeping up the wall. 

The only sound is the soft 3-beat melody of Tu’ks soft breathing as she sleeps, but her heavy eyes flutter open now and then as she nuzzles into jakes side.

Neytiri squeezes her hand on your shoulder to keep her voice from breaking, her chest tightening.

“He told me to protect the people.”

The pain in her voice breaks through the cracks in the walls that kept the shadows out, cages that kept the anger in.

“I owed your mother my life. I could not protect Zensira. 

I have let the demons take another from me.”

The red in her voice stained the shadows behind ehr words, the sharp syllables in ‘demons’ evident, Kiri closed her eyes and winced at her mothers words, still holding your hand.

She took a breath and gazed at you.

“But yawntu, i will not let them take you. I will protect you. You have always been one of my own at heart. The skyships will not take that from us.

The familiar sting you felt only a few hours ago returned to your eyes along with the ache in your chest.

Jake nodded.

“We can be stronger together, Y/n. Let us look after you.”

The wisp of shallow aches still burn behind your heart but you nod, silently.

Lo’ak smiles in an attempt to lighten the load.

“Just like old times, sis. We used to have sleepovers all the time, now we get to have them every day.”

Neytiri was about to scold Lo’ak for his bluntness until she heard you chuckle,

Tuk’s big eyes blinked open as her tired voice mumbled.

“Now you can play with me more..and braid my hair..”

She mumbes as she smiles to herself. Jake chuckles and ruffles her short braids.

Kiri squeezes your hand and Neteyam’s gaze hasn’t left you since the beginning of the conversation.

You took a walk that night, creeping around the hammocks of the sleeping sully family as you quietly ventured outside the small camp village.

You stand under a tree, the moonlight leaks through the canopy as you start to count the stars. You wondered how the sky and the heavens could still be standing when your whole world had collapsed around you just earlier that day.

When you were small your mother would tell you not to pull on the loose thread of her tapestries she wove. Because the more you pull, the faster it will fall apart.

Thats how you felt. One loose string being mercilessly tugged and then all the colors were fading away, you chased them, you chased them along with the falling stars but no one caught them for you.

Your heart has been thieved. Your light has been stolen.

Sin and soul seem to have a war under your skin, and the soft lllabies of the creatures of your planet seem to have more of a shriek-like quality.

Why did the colors go away? 

Did they chase you to the place i cannot follow when you went away?

“Y/n.”

You jump slightly, the chill in the pale air becoming a prick of awarness as you reach for the knife on your hip, turning around quikcly.

Neteyam stands before you, his wooded-honeyed scent fills your nose, you blink as a breath of his name leaves your lips.

“Neteyam-

Oh Neteyam you scared me, you asshole.”

Usually he would have laughed. But not today, not with the shadow that looms.

He gently touches your arm.

“I’m sorry, truly-

What are you doing awake? Are you hurt? Are you in pain? Did something-

Did someone-”

You laugh at him. But its bitter and its thin. Its forced.

“For eywas sake why does everyone think i am the weak link suddenly-

I am fine. Stop looking at me like i am wounded-”

Neteyam cuts you off.

“Y/n, i would never think such a thing about you, ever. You know this. I want you safe, you can’t expect me not to be concerned when you wonder off in the middle of the night, syulang”

The nickname from whe you were children is a warm familiarity at the least.

You huff and lean against the tree bark.

“I just needed air.”

Its small and muttered.

A shaky breath left your lips.

“I’m trying to find ways to endure my own thoughts.”

Neteyams eyes soften as he steps forward, he gently takes a place y beside you, back against the tree as he stands next to you. Your hand brushes his, but your fingers refuse to interlace.

The two of you stared up at the stars for a moment.

“Teyam?

“Yes?”

“Do you think it’s ungrateful to feel as if you have nothing, even when others orrond you with love and promises?”  

“I’m not sure I follow…”

“Is it wrong to feel alone when your in the arms of others?”

As it falls into place for neteyam, he gazes at you as if you were a mystery in the moonlight.

He tries to see past your walls, to place himself in your shadow.

 He glances at you, then back up at the sky.

“No. It’s not ungrateful. I think we’re all born with some sort of circle around us.”

You pause for a moment, looking over at him.

“A circle?”

He nods.

“A circle. The people we love and care for? the people we would do anything for? The people who make our home, they all belong inside our circle.

My father, my mother, Lo’ak, Tuk, Kiri, they're all a part of my circle.”

He pauses for a moment, his tail swishing behind him.

“And…you are too. You’re apart of my circle, Y/n.”

You gaze at him and he withers under your eyes, averting his eyes and fidgeting with his necklace.

After a moment, he speaks again.

“I can’t imagine loosing people in that circle…things must become so…empty. As if the world seems too small all of the sudden.

So no, it’s not selfish to feel alone when that circle is gone.”

His words spark comfort. The hollowness within your palm seems less heavy.

“Thank you.”

You whisper, and he nods at you.

“You don’t have to be alone, y/n. My family…when they spoke to you tonight about staying with us when we travel to the mountains, it was not because there’s a need to replace what you once had. Y/n, we want you to embrace this new circle-“

“What if I’m not ready to find a new circle?”

The vehement tone you were bearning stunned neteyam for a moment.

“Your mother was right. The sky people will take, and they will kill, and they will hunt, until everything under the sky of pandora is either dead or theirs..”

Your eyes hardened for a moment and Neteyam was still as he took in your words.

You look up at the moon once more; taking a breath.

“I do not wish to fear them anymore, Neteyam.

I want them to be the ones who fear us.”

There was a new found devotion in your heart.

A bitter song of  fire and desolation.

Vengeance.

Each note a new mockery of blood and ash. Every chorus an unfamiliar revelry of hunger.

That night, under the fallen stars and the cold moonlight, the inextinguishable plotted purpose was born within you.

Neteyam sighed; his gaze fitting back to the moon.

“And so you will..”

No. 

Don’t. 

I don’t want to loose you in the fire.

But he didn’t dare speak it aloud.

After a moment, he spoke again.

“I have something for you.”

He felt his heart flutter when your eyes met his.

He reached into the pocket of his loincloth.

“It was a gift I planned on giving during the ceremony.”

You felt twitch of anguish as you recalled the memory.

“You already contributed your gift..you gave that armband my father taught you how to weave.”

He gave you a tender look. The kind whispered in the solace of summer and soft secrets.

“It is for you. Not for your loss.”

His words unclouded a new warmth in your chest.

For a moment, your anger ceased to simmer.

“I made this, for you a long while ago..but I never found the right time to give it to you.

Then..the incident happened and I knew it wasn’t a good time..I was planning on giving it to you on this day..but the plans changed.”

He opened his palm to reveal a small carved wooden spiral, polished and smooth. 3 strings with little charming dangling.

The first charm was 2 purple colored crystal, the second was a wooden bead that wore a Maude color, with a tree carved on it, the last was a stack of small purple beads with marbled colors.

He placed it gently in the palm of your hand, and you cradled it with such delicacy.

“Oh it’s beautiful…”

Your breath truly caught itself in his trap.

“When we were young your mother made you that necklace out of those crystals and small jeweled beads, the one she found in the river?..you were so happy to wear something so colorful..I remember the purple ones were your favorite. You always placed them so that they were in the middle. I’d thought I’d add them as a small bonus.”

He smiled at the memory.

You hugged him, your cheek pressed against his chest, he was stunned for a moment but hugged you back, you looked up at him and your breath caught for a moment, your faces mere inches apart.

You both Depart slightly and avert your eyes.

“Thank you. It’s lovely, Neteyam.”

You said softly, he nodded and smiled at you.

“The spiral suits you. Even now with this great loss you bear. It’s a connection. Even to those who are no longer with us.”

You smiled at him back, and the two of you started to walk back to the village.

How could you not see it? The spiral. A sign of support? Of friendship? Of trust?

No my dear Y/n.

It was how he felt like his soul was steadily orbiting around you. Thoughts of you never ended.

His circle.

His spiral.

You were the center.

☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 

Years later….(y/n is now 18.)

(her code name is “X” neteyam’s name through comms is canonically ‘pathfinder’)

Jake yipped to Neytiri as she raised her bow and looked over her shoulder.

Her face is adorned with war paint, much like yours. She had painted you for the day. Red, purple, blue, the colors of your ikran worn proudly like a hyde of victory.

“Remember the plan.”

Jake says through his throat comms, his volume fighting the wind. You held your two fingers to the small mic on your neck so you could hear through your earpiece.

“Neytiri and I will strike from above, X, you're my Archer. I want you to hit em’ quick and move out fast. Eagle Eye, pathfinder, you two are spotters. Do not engage in close range, or air combat, understood?”

You heard lo’ak groan through his comm.

“Bro, why does Y/n get to have all the fun!?”

You felt a tinge of pride. Knowing you were Jake’s right hand out in the field. Higher ranked than either of his son’s. A skilled Archer. 

“Because I'm older and I have more fun.”

You quipped back, unable to hide the smile in your voice.

“Ya know what'd be fun? If you were to crash straight into one of those mountains and fall in your cocky as-”

“Both of you! No arguing on the comms!”

You refocused as the smell of ash and metal was fast approaching. YOu and the war party arrive on the scene right on time

You flew up above the train tracks and watched as the vehicle crashed into a collision of smoke and ash on the derailed tracks.  The air scorched to sting your flesh with an uncomfortable heat.

Neytiri let out a ululating sound to signal to you as she flew down to help Jake. Behind you were 3 smaller aircrafts. 

You grabbed your bow from the side saddle, mentally commanding your ikran to dive.

Everyone who witnessed Y/n fight swore the wind under her ikran’s wings were grazed with fire.

She was made of red-ribboned rainstorms in a scarlet blaze of uncharted wind and wildflowers.

For a moment it’s all too real. The encore of your arrows, the satisfying stretch of your bow string, Like the last note before the chorus. You dive down, sliding down the neck of your Ikran ever so slightly as the wind stings your cheeks, the sunlight strong. You draw back, a loud call escaping your throat, and the arrow flies.

Its in a blink of an eye the cockpit window is shattered, the pilot now sporting an arrow of yours through his neck as the metal gray bird ceases it’s flight and collapses in a cloud of smoke and sulfur.

You’d usually be celebrating if two bastards weren't behind you.

You grasp two arrows this time, the long wooden shaft in your clutch as you line them up properly for the next shot. 

The pilots pathetically attempt to surf with the wind beneath you, scattering your duo targets into far off spots.

Thats the thing about humans. They tiptoed on the wind as if it was uneven ground. Na’vi warriors like you danced upon airstorms and harsh rains. A swirling spiral of helix grazes your skin as you feel one of their shots fly past you the heat just missing your ikran,

You soothe him before regaining your position, you mentally make a new command to your ikran.

‘Drop’

In a moment, the settled feeling of security that once shaved your bones seems to wither away.

Your ikran free falls, rolling against the wind that whips and wails. Your chest heaves as you ready your shot, the reverberation from your bowstring sings to your fingers as the two arrows fly, hitting both pilots as your irkan regains a flying position instead of a falling one, all adrift in a fleeting shot.

The aircrafts fall together, crashing against the ground.

The ground team jake had arranged comes into view frm the side forest clearing, all watching in awe as if you were the embodiment of phoenix.

They raised their bows and let out warcalls, you pridefully returned, raising your bow above your head and releasing a war call of your own.

Neteyam watched from afar. His ikran synced with Lo’aks as they circled the scene below, na’vi led by Norm gathering all the weapons they could.

But he couldnt let himself focus on the world below when all he could see was the woman made of exquisite inferno and grace was scorching the sky with her blaze.

Neteyam felt the wind brisk through his braids as he looked up, squinting against the sunlight in hopes to catch another glimpse of you.

The light of day made you seem grazed with gold that brushed the cobalt hues.

He watched as you shot down the aircrafts, he watched you shoot two arrows.

To Neteyam, you were made of fire.

Remnants of moonlight and high-tided sea storms. A hellish radiance and a scarlet soul.

Neteyam remembered the night he saw the flame embed itself in your soul. The night he gifted you that carving that was now a charm that rested tied to the long expanse of your bow.

He hated it. How inconsolable he feared you were, how he feared this new alit flame would burn his touch away from you. Useless was an understatement, of how he felt that night, even the stars above refused to guide him down teh right path.

He knew you were angry.

He was angry too.

He wanted to fight just like you did. His hatred for these sky demons simmered beneath his skin. He was a warrior. He wanted to fight next to you and his father. He was a protector of the people.

He had seen what they had taken from his home, from his parents, his family, from you.

At first, he thought it was jealousy.

The way Jake encrusted you to be his main archer. To shoot down sky ships.

Neteyam? He wasn’t anywhere near the fighting. Not anywhere near you.

He knew his father thought him and Lo’ak were “too important” to be fighting.

Jake was trying to salvage the sons made of stone before the heat of war can melt the rock.

Were you better than him?

Stronger than him?

Why did his father trust you more than he trusted his eldest?

As he watches you now, the archer who had her arrowhead aimed at his heart from day 1.

He knows its love. It must be.

It keeps him awake at night. The devoured feeling that gnaws at his heart. You were the center of his sky in all your celestial glory and he wished he would have gifted you the entire universe but instead he gave you that carved spiral.

He loved you because where other struggled to see in the dark you danced with dusk. You were a paradox. Detached, but focused. Because you somehow made the most dissolute and reckless seem graceful. You were real. Imperfect. Unconfined hunger bordered by each beautiful bruise blemish and scar that covered your skin. 

You haunted him.

“Bro!”

And funny enough, it seems eywa created little brothers for a different kind of haunting.

Neteyams eyes flickered to where Lo’ak circled around him on his ikran.

The cold colors tattered across the ikrans purple and blue skin, trapping the yellow large speckles of shapes of the banshee’s skin.

Lo’ak’s echoes dwindle in the gust of wind, the war paint he wore proudly on either side of his face, Neteyam had watched Y/n paint Lo’ak after his begging back at high camp.

Something about Lo’aks smile in situations like these always found ways to disquiet Neteyam.

His eyebrows hover above his eyes as his fangs bare through his smile.

“Bro! We have got to get down there!”

Neteyam shakes his head, a warning look traces his features.

“No way! Dad will skin us!”

Lo’ak shakes his head, the wind uplifting his braids as he dives.

“C’mon! Don’t be a wuss!”

The flushed first notes of an uncertain heartbeat ablaze neteyam’s mind as he dives as well.

“Shit! Lo’ak! Get back you dumbass!”

Lo’ak dived blow into the musk of what might as well be no man’s land. The air wailed and whipped around him as he hopped off his Ikran. Yanking his kuru from his banshees and running towards the chaos in question.

He looked over his shoulder to see Neteyam following suit. He laughed, waving his hand through the dust and smoke.

“C‘mom bro!”

“Lo’ak!”

“Lo’ak come back!”

Lo’ak faltered momentarily when he saw Norm directing some navi’s into a brigade to gather all the weapons from the train’s supply cart. Swiftly swerving to stay out of the dream walkers sight, he joined the forming crowd where around where Tarsem had just opened a new cart of guns.

“Here boy- take this weapon! Go!”

Lo’ak let put a silly war cry and puffed up his chest,

Neteyam came to a halt.

“Lo’ak, you don’t even know how to use it.”

Lo’ak waved the gun around like it was weightless, handling it like one of Tuk’s toys.

“Nah bro. Dad taught me!”

Neteyam rolled his eyes, done with Lo’aks bullshit.

“I’m sure he did-

Let’s go-“

He grabbed lo’aks bicep but Lo’ak shrugged him off.

“Or maybe I’ll just be like y/n and shoot down some sky demons!”

Above the clouds, you circled the ensuing hustle below. Watching the brigades, monitoring the ground team. Your bow at the ready in its position on your saddle sheath.

And then you saw them.

“Son of a bitch!”

You hissed quietly, swiftily diving down to where the duo of your headache embodied currently argued about something stupid.

Lo’ak smiled as he saw you, but it faded as he watched the shadow of your Ikran (which was larger than the average Ikran, granted)

Loom over the both as you hopped down, glaring at them.

“What are you two shitheads doing here!?”

The feathers on your raid top gently shook in the breeze, a few of your beads clanking together in your braids as you made your descend.

Neteyam seemed to straighten, but his breath seemed to form a blockade for his own voice.

Maybe it was the way the brightly covered beads and feathers of your top accentuated your skin. Or maybe it was the way the fathers in your braids matched your waist beads Kiri had made you.

Maybe it was the way your loincloth seemed a bit more perfect than usual as it hugged your hips.

Maybe it was the way the red, blue, and purple war paint on your face outlined your eyes like wings and shed down your cheeks like tears, sorrowed in starlight for you had just been warrior of the wind.

I guess we’ll never know.

Lo’ak spoke for him.

“We wanted to help! C’mon, we have the ground team to be spotters! They don’t need us! I’ve been practicing the trick you taught me with the bow, just let us fly with you- we promise we’ll-“

You shot Lo’ak down before the words flooded further, the scarlet hues ablazed and begged for nothing but obedience in your voice.

“Kehe! You will do nothing-! Go back to your post. Both of you. Now!”

You swatted Lo’ak with your bow, hissing at him, Neteyam tried to drag Lo’ak away.

“Bro let’s go!-“

The sound of heavy mechanical whirring instilled the heightening of your awareness in the moment, your ears pining back as you saw the larger ship approach.

“Gun ship inbound!”

Jake shouted, you saw neytiri hiss and take off on her Ikran.

“Shit! Run!” You cursed, shoving Lo’ak and Neteyam in the opposite direction and making a break away from the approaching enemy.

As it would seem time was not in your favor, your Ikran had already been spooked away by the blast, Neteyam grabbed your hand before you could run, 

“Come with us, now!

Go-!”

He shoved Lo’ak ahead of him as they ran, Neteyam’s hand clutching yours as you kept pace with the two.

The 3 of you climbed over the derailed debris, Neteyam and you scaling the bright yellow RDA logo train doors,

“Bro come on!” Lo’ak called.

A flash of light invaded your vision, the scorching heat of the blast incircled you.

You feel Neteyam attempt to reach for you, but instead all you feel is a tug on your wrist as your senses start to numb. 

Your airborn for a moment, then your body collides with the uneven ground, the rocky surface below.

You groan, your vision blurring. The embers and ash clash against your skin in the harsh sting of the hot air. 

You winced in pain as the adrenaline started it’s course of abandonment. The aching sensation swallows your body. 

Scarlet etched its way in a jagged scratch on your side. The world seemed to darkn as the scarlet hues slowly faded to black. The sky’s golden and blue game of chance changes its rules as your eyelids become heavy.

Neteyam’s eyes shoot open as his vision readjusts itself clearly.

Lo’ak is above him, shaking him awake. Panic in the half-notes of his jagged breaths.

“Bro!? Bro! C’mon, get up we gotta go!”

Neteyam stands to his feet, groaning, but quickly regaining his senses.

He looked down at his hand to see where something small and beaded made its home in his clutch.

A bracelet?

Your bracelet.

It hit Neteyam like a tidal wave.

“Shit! Y/n-“

Neteyam tried to run past when his body collided with a taller one, Jake stood looming over his son’s, placing one hand on each of their shoulders “Hey! Easy, easy, where’s Y/n?! Are you hurt?!”

Neteyam tried to speak but all it was met with is stuttered breaths and a poor panicked exclamation.

“That way! I meant to grab her arm and I grabbed this instead-

The blast-“

Jake didn’t hesitate as he started running in the direction you were in, Lo’ak seemingly still in shock and Neteyam following his father without missing a beat,

“Stay behind boy! Get your brother out of here!”

“But sir-“

“That’s a direct order!”

Norm, quickly dragged Neteyam and lo’ak away to the sidelines of the forest to make their quick escape.

The sound of a screech flooded your ears, the footseps barely audible over the smoke and wind.

“Y/n! Oh child, Eywa please no.” 

You reached for your knife with the last ounce of motor control you could muster, before a hand gently lifted you on your back, the sun’s blinding silver line halo of heat scorched your eyes, you hissed and winced in pain.

The hands were familiar, it calmed you rather quickly.

You knew it was neytiri when the blurry shape of gray purple and green, faintly recognizable as her bone collared-top.

You groaned, the raw rushes of pain encased your vision.

“I’m sorry-”

You mumbled.

“Shh. No apologies, my dear girl. Come, we must go. Quickly.”

The last thing you remember is the gently shrill of her Ikran and her hand around your waist was she settled you in front of her on her ikran. The Scarlet hue no painted the wind.

☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 

When you awake, its to the sound of herbs grinding soflty in a boil. The reverberations of the grinding tool against the small wooden bowl make your ears twitch.

Your vision settles. Mo’at sits infornt of the small fire in the tsahiks tent, Tuktirey by her side.

Her big eyes blinking at her grandmother’s handy-work, her much smaller tail swishing to the beat of each sound.

You sat up slowly, with a small wince. But the pain was significantly better.

Tuk gasps

“Y/n! You're alive!”

She wraps her arms around your waist, nuzzling her little head into your chest. You smile at the smaller girls, roughly a few of her braids, kissing the top of her head.

“of course I’m alive, yawntu! It would take a million Sky People to take me out.”

You teasingly mocked the position of an archer, holding a pretend bow and arrow made out of thin air as Tuk laughed.

Mo’at gently cleared her throat, making her way to you as she placed a hand on your shoulder.

“ Child, your wounds were deep, but they shall heal quickly with the salve. Kiri shall be back with more herbs soon. But please rest, simply until the bandages are removed.”

You nodded greatfully, squeezing her hand in a gesture of thank you.

She was the closest thing you would have to a grandmother, even before your parents began their journey with Eywa. You never got to meet your actual grandparents. They died in the attack on hometree. The only memory you had of them was through the clans' stories.

You wore a choker that was strung with river pearls and brown leather, a small navy-blue colored stone in the middle. A treasured piece your grandmother once wore.

Tuk snuggled up to you in the hammock, and you gently rubbed her back.

A soft rustling made your ears perk up when Kiri slipped through the tent flap with a basket of herbs.

“Tsmuke, (sister)

You are awake.”

Her expression softened, as if tensed up since the moment you returned unconscious. It probably was.

She handed the herbs to Mo’at and kneeled at your side, gently brushing a few of your braids away from your face.

“How are you feeling? Better? I used yalna bark when grandmother wasn’t looking. Was it Lo’ak again? It’s always Neteyam getting in trouble and you getting hurt when that sxkwang gets bright ideas-“

You gently stopped her mid rant. Holding her hand gently to your chest.

“I am fine, Kiri. A few scratches and bruises has never done much harm.”

She chuckled softly, standing back to her feet to assist Mo’at with the rest of the preparations for other wounded warriors.

As the hours passed, and the sun started to set, Kiri had to drag Tuktirey off to bed and Mo’at left the tent for the night. Leaving you alone to find sleep.

Mo’at had insisted you sleep in the Tsahik’ s tent tonight. Get some extra rest.

You didn’t argue. It was better than sharing a hammock with Lo’ak. The boy snored more than what you were almost certain was normal.

It was an understatement to say you nearly killed someone when you heard the tent flap rustle. You jumped, instinctly reaching for your knife.

It was well after hours.

Everyone should be asleep.

Who was it? Were you followed when you left the train?

Was it a sky demon? An animal?

You slowly felt your heart steady once again when you saw a small pale figure enter your tent, the small glimmer of his mask dances in the firelight. Lo’ak is behind him, looking less hyper than usual. Instead, a subtle tinge of gray flickered past his eyes, but it quickly gilded itself to green and gold once it settled on your form. He released a breath of relief and spider smiled.

“See? I told you she was okay.”

It took you a moment to realize that Lo’ak was worried about you.

You gave him a small smile opening your one arm that wasn’t aching, and he slipped himself under it, sitting next to you in the hammock, resting his head on your shoulder.

Lo’ak was your best friend. But really, he was so much more than that.

He was your family. Your ride-or-die.

Your right hand.

It made you feel a bit guilty, that Lo’ak seemed to prefer you over Neteyam sometimes.

Lo’ak wanted you to be his teacher when it came to his archery training and sparring. Lo’ak wanted it to be you who he went on hunts with.

Yet again, he also only lets you braid his hair because apparently neytiri pulls too hard and Neteyam doesn’t know how to tie them off properly.

Spider was a bit of a different case.

As you grew older, you realized how much you envied your motehrs sense of lightness.

Her entire being seemed to be made of golden hour gardens and softly whispered summers.

She was strong. The strongest woman you knew.

But she was kind.

She wasn’t like Neytiri in the sense that she resented all humans.

Your mother always felt a sense of protectiveness over Spider. A small, pale boy who used his heart instead of brain, chasing shimmyflys and tripping over vines that were larger than him. She welcomed him into her circle. She shielded him from the storms of strange staring and pesky fears.

Your mother always cared for Spider. Helped him re-twist his locs and make him new loincloths and hair beads. Some of your earliest memories were you and spider playing with the small carved toys in your family’s tent, or giggling after dark under the blankets after your father told you both to go to sleep.

She argued when spider had to go back to his foster family, and ended up making bargains with him to stay overnight every few days.

You’re almost positive it’s the only motherly love spider has ever known.

He cried when your mother died. 

You think he might have cried more than you did.

Sobbed for days with you, and it brought you closer together.

You smiled as Lo’ak fidgeted with one of the bracelets on your wrist.

When you were about 8, Lo’ak was 7, spider was 9, your mother carved you these special beads for the three of you to use.

You three decided to make bracelets and your father helped you string them together, all collecting charms and gifting them to one another to add.

The two biggest stones were carved river crystal the two boys collected, Lo’ak rolled the beads between his two extra fingers, sporting a bracelet of his own you and spider made him.

“So, I heard you got your ass kicked.”

Spider snickered. Sitting down in front of you.

You whacked him with your tail.

“Fuck off. Those sky demons ate my arrows.”

Spider groaned, 

“I’m so pissed. I heard you fell down in a explosion and ate shit-

And now one took a picture for me!” 

Lo’ak threw and arm around your shoulder and wiggled his eyebrows.

“Oh yeah. And her Romeo was panicking because he didn’t save her in time”

You flushed, shoving him away.

Spider laughed, standing up.

“I can only imagine-“

He cleared his throat, before making his voice go an obnoxious pitch higher, twirling his locs around his fingers and batting his eyes, mimcmking what was supposed to be you.

“Oh Neteyam! My big strong warrior man! Come save me!”

You hissed in annoyance, but couldn’t help but bite back laughter at the back of your throat.

Lo’ak stood to his feet, puffing up his chest and taking his braid out of the way he tied them back, letting them hang, deepening his voice and stomping towards spider, dramatically holding him in his arms as spider collapsed with a loud rehearsed sigh.

Lo’aks Neteyam imitation sent you over the edge, you were now cackling and had rolled out of your hammock.

“I’ll save you from the demon ships with my bow and arrow!”

Lo’ak, you, and spider all break into a fit of laughter, rolling around on the ground. Lo’ak steadying himself by burying his face in your shoulder as spider banged his fist on the ground, finally, as the laughter died down, the three of you stared at the top of the tent, out of breath, the only sound being the gentle wheezing endnotes of your breaths.

“Glad you kicked some ass today. Those fucking RDA pilots didn’t stand a chance against you and that bow of yours.”

Spider whispered. Nudging your shoulder gently.

You smiled at him, Lo’ak squished in between you.

The three of you said your goodnight s, and you watched the two missing parts of your circle leave the tent before they could get caught after lights out.

You nestled back into the hammock, staring up at the ceiling.

The aching in your arms hasn’t completely vanished it’s fortification of pain in your shoulder.

You gently rub circles around the small carved spiral you untied from the long shaft of your bow when spider dragged it inside.

You played with the small crystals and the beads, gently humming to yourself.

Your fingers traced along the shape, Neteyams eyes invaded your mind.

It was fascinating, really. How a warrior such as yourself had won today's battle and yet the one thing you truly yearned for was still not within your grasp.

It hurts sometimes, to think about how beautiful he was.

The way his irises encompassed golden hour in all its starlight sessions.

The air was thicker in the mountains like this, up here in high camp. Perhaps that’s why the sweltering residual warmth that rippled across your skin like lillies to a pond every time you thought of him

You wondered if he tasted like the sun. Sweet, possibly bitter. Bleak and addicting, such a delicacy deserved to never touch your lips.

Alas the stars did not align for you.

Not tonight.

You trace the spiral one last time before letting your eyes flutter closed.

Your tail flicked as you heard yet another rustling.

The sound of footsteps, slightly heavier than last time.

You groaned.

“Spider did you forget something again?..”

When no answer was heard you grumbled. Standing to your feet and untying the tent flap, only to be met with two two golden hour orbs that had just plagued your mind.

“”Neteyam?..”

authors note:

I’m finally done! I haven’t slept in two days but I’m finished. I can’t decided whether I like the way this turned out but I LOVE some of the smaller little details. Y/n is such a badass and she’s in her reputation eraaaa. We love to see it 😩👏 this first one was a lil angsty but I PROMISE y’all, this series is NOT angst. I’ve got a ton of stuff planned. I’m thinking maybe a little bit of jealous Neteyam? Some humor? Spider and Lo’ak being the captain of the ship? Mo’at being a sassy Granmda? Maybe some sister bonding with Kiri? AHHH IM SO HYPED. I, about to pass out and I can’t feel my fingers but that’s it for now! Stay tuned for part 2 🏹

-Sol

Jan 2034

“Virago” series, chp. 1.

Taglist:

@plooto

[dappervoided]

Docs vacation to Quesadilla Island!

So I watched Docm77 last Hermitcraft season 9 episode today and RAN to make this.

More so on the topic!

He needed to take a break and get his creative juices flowing? What's a better break (nightmare) than to come enjoy the island for a short while!

I've been spinning around the idea of Qsmp and Hermitcraft crossover since the start of Qsmp. There's so many ideas in my brain about this topic even though it'll never actually happen! I'm so sorry, but some things are bound to get out of my daydreams and materialize into doodles!

I think Doc would LOVE the eggs! Not to mention all the cute creatures they'd show him! He'd get attached instantly, they're too adorable!

I could only fit 3 here without making it too busy, but I wanna expand on what I could see the interactions being. Massive ramblings, often grammatically incorrect ahead:

Sunny - now we all know she's a material princess, they'd love Docs bedtime stories about the diamond pillar wars and his incredible contraptions made of diamond in the Perimeter and all the riches he had. Now Tubbo not only has Pierre to watch out for, but Doc also, cause Sunny would beg him to make stuff out of diamonds to show off!

Empanada - she'd clock in instantly that Doc is a German and would try speaking to him in German every moment she got. Now she has both her mom Niki and Doc to talk in her language to! It's not much of an expansion, but she appreciates it a lot! They'd have many delightful conversations and Doc is always happy to have her build little things together. They learn from each other!

Ramon - besides finally having another redstone genius with an entire Hivemind on the server, Ramon would be interested in how Doc works - both in a cyborg way and in the way he creates mind-blowing, game breaking contraptions. If they're not destroying the server together for fun, they're not making the most of their time! Jk, but it do be nice when both of them get to hang out and show each other what they discovered that's scuffed on the server.

Some eggs that aren't drawn:

Chayanne - finally! Another farmer came around! Chayanne would show off his impressive potato farm and cooking skills to Doc, who will always be amazed at the kids dedication! Doc can finally have his tomato farm in a Minecraft world now, since the mods allow it! It is too free for everyone to use

Tallulah - If she would show Doc the incredible builds she made and her and her papas place, he would be moved to tears! Everything is made with such love and incredible amounts of effort and thought! From her farm of all possible plants, to her garden and to El Cielo De Las Tortugas. Such incredible places to visit and appreciate! And Tallulahs amazing way of storytelling would only serve to amplify those feelings

Dapper - now besides trying cage trap Doc 1000x times, Dapper would definitely show off everything he got once he discovers that Doc is deeply amused and surprised by all the non vanilla things! They would invite Doc to their base to show everything and I mean EVERYTHING there is for show. It's definitely too much, but Doc is very impressed by her and would praise how much work she puts in! Dapper do be the definition of GRIND!

Leo - Leo and her dads made so many incredible builds, Doc would be amazed at how much they did in such a short time! Besides that Leo herself is an incredibly, theatrically even, good at body language and expression! He'd die of cuteness and laughter like all of us already do!

Pomme - we all know that Pomme has so many talents! From being a little musician, to an incredible warrior, to a thought out builder and a spectacularly emotional writer. There's a lot Doc will have to slowly discover about Pomme! And each time the scale and depths of things will get more and more impressive, because the share amounts of time and effort she puts into her creations, passions and loved ones is massive!

Pepito - this kid! Pepito is such an incredible character to be around! Pepito is so dedicated to whatever Pepito does, especially if it's with friends! Whenever Pepito has fun, it always radiates outwards in many different ways! You can't really help yourself but get charged up with energy when you're around. And Doc does just that!

Richarlyson- Richas is a lot in the best ways possible! But we all know he's very much a jokester, he wouldn't miss a beat trying to mess with the goat! And once he finds out what kinds of retaliations Docs is capable of? OH IT'S WAR (for fun, cause that's what it's all about!)

I'm sorry if this is chaotic at some parts or lacking in others, I have to write this all in one go before my battery dies. I haven't been able to watch many streams so I'm sorry if Im not up to date with the characters, but that is what I remember them as! Any corrections or lore updates are always welcome! I want to learn more, especially now that I can't watch!

Anyhow, now that I look back on that drawing why do I feel like I've done something terrible.... I've seen those designs before......

OH NO

[salmonskinrolltf]

The Grind

Todd really did enjoy working from home. He loved the perks of getting to roll right out of bed when his alarm went off, and he loved not being stuck in traffic every morning and evening on his commute. But recently, he was starting to feel like he couldn't focus. It was important to him to succeed at this job, so he could keep rising in the ranks at his ad agency, but there were too many distractions that weren't allowing him to prove himself: chores to do, food to eat, noise from his neighbors. Dear God, the noise!

The window of his home office opened right out onto the alley behind his apartment. It was summer, so he needed the windows open in order to snag that cross breeze and keep from boiling to death, but the teenage skaters that seemed to swarm the alley during summer break were out and about in full force.

He tapped his chin with his pen, trying to come up with a good word that a cat might use to describe the delicious new treats Todd's client was going to feed him, but he found himself distracted yet again by the noise from the skaters outside. He wondered how they didn't get bored, with their endlessly repetitive roster of lame-ass tricks that all sounded the same.

Whirrrrrrr-thud

Whirrrrrrr-thud

That's all Todd heard all day, over and over, with metronomic regularity. If he could harness one-tenth of the passion that these burnouts used when trying to learn ollies or whatever, he would be CEO within the week.

God, if only. He felt like he was working himself to the bone, with no results. A mighty headache was threatening to rear up and throttle his brain, too. He had been chugging Pedialyte, hoping to at least make it to the end of his shift. If he used even one sick day, he worried he'd seem like a slacker who wasn't committed.

OK, staring at his laptop screen wasn't working. He pulled out a pad of paper and a pen. Sometimes physically writing things down helped his creative juices flow. He tapped his pen on his chin with a maniacal rat-a-tat rhythm. It didn’t help. He sighed and hung his head in his hands. He just wanted to rise in the ranks. To get a better life for himself. Why was this so difficult?

Whirrrrrrr-thud

Todd tapped his pen on his chin more slowly. Was it just him, or were the skaters kind of perfectly timing their tricks? It sounded almost like the percussion on one of his favorite classical compositions. He strained to listen.

Whirrrrrrr-thud

Whirrrrrrr-thud

Yeah, there was definitely a meter to the noises, so precise that his brain felt like it could slot perfectly into them. He realized the predictability of the noise would be beneficial in terms of helping him ignore the skaters and focus back on work. As long as he internalized the rhythm, it would just fade into the background.

He pulled the paper toward him and began tapping with fresh vigor, trying to let the noise sink into the back of his brain.

Whirrrrrrr-thud

Whirrrrrrr-thud

The sound was still present, but it was already becoming more like a gentle hum he was only vaguely aware of.

Whirrrrrrr-thud

Whirrrrrrr-thud

That’s right. He felt the noise begin to flow through him. It was just like living in an apartment by the freeway, he thought. You can ignore any noise if it becomes familiar enough.

Whirrrrrrr-thud

Familiar… Familiar… Family! He scribbled on his notepad. “Your cat is a part of the family…” He sucked on the end of his pen. He couldn’t figure out what to put next, but it was a start. He stared at the paper for what felt like another ten minutes, continuously drawing a blank. He pinched the bridge of his nose. Fuck, that headache was building again. He knew he was only feeling bad because of stress, but how was he supposed to de-stress when he had a deadline? He stared at the paper intensely, willing words to appear on it.

Whirrrrrrr-THUD

A particularly loud thud jolted Todd out of his reverie. Fuck, he was getting jumpy. Maybe he should take a ten minute break. As soon as he figured out the end of this tagline. He sucked on the end of his pen once more, but as he did so, something weird happened. There must have been a hole in the clicker of his pen, because he felt it break open, releasing a hot, gaseous substance into his mouth.

He gasped in surprise, accidentally forcing the gas into his lungs, which began to feel like they were burning. He gave a panicky cough and a plume of smoke trailed weakly from his mouth. What the fuck? He closely inspected his pen, but everything looked totally normal. Perhaps the end was a little damp from him sucking on it. But he saw nothing that explained what had just happened to him.

The burning sensation still tickled his lungs, but it was quickly mellowing into something… something quite nice, actually. His toes felt a little tingly, and a sense of calm washed over him. He felt his muscles relax somewhat as he slumped back into his chair. His headache was even receding a bit. If he could get it to go away entirely, maybe he could finally finish…

Whirrrrrrr-thud

Yeah, fuck it. He was gonna try again. He put the end of the pen in his mouth and took another deep breath. Once more, the top of the pen opened up and expelled smoke, which he took into his lungs and held there, enjoying the warming sensation before blowing it out in a tight stream.

That’s the ticket. He felt the headache recede entirely. He finally felt well and truly relaxed. He flipped his hoodie up over his head and drew the drawstrings. Wait, he hadn’t been wearing a hoodie, had he? Fuck it, he didn’t care. He was now warm and cozy, inside and out. He felt better than he had in a long time.

But it was still too hot under the hood. It felt right to be wearing it, even in summer somehow, but he could feel sweat glistening on his forehead. He wiped it away with the back of his hand, but he still felt himself grow hotter and hotter, yet strangely lazy and unwilling to actually do something about it because he was SO relaxed.

Whirrrrrrr-thud

He began to sweat so much that his perfectly coiffed hair started to wilt, dangling down in front of his eyes. It then just… kept going. It extended down over his face to the point that he thought the sweaty strands might poke him in the eyes. His normal instinct would have been to sweep it back, but in his addled state, he instead gave a practiced flick of the head, gathering the hair at one side. The color began to change from a strawlike dirty blond, to brunette, to dark brown, to a black so concentrated it must have been dyed. But he never dyed his hair, had he? He liked being a natural blonde.

Fuck, it was SO hot. Why had he chosen to wear this hoodie? A memory blossomed of him putting it on that morning. Well, of course he had worn this hoodie. It was his favorite hoodie. He wore it every day, whatever the weather. Sure, he could do to wash it. It stank of sweat and pot smoke, but it was his and he loved it.

He needed to cool down something fierce, though. He made a move to pull the hoodie off from around his head, but his hands unconsciously ignored his intention, opting to flip up the collar of his open button-down instead. As he adjusted the collar to look perfectly mussed and careless, the material of the shirt turned coarse and thick as it became a battered denim jacket.

He was totally unaware that he hadn’t perfectly executed his plan, still feeling relaxed and a little fuzzy from his vape pen. That’s what it was, of course. A vape pen. He wasn’t sure why he'd thought it was an actual pen, like for writing. He chuckled softly. Suddenly, being confused about things felt like it came more naturally to him, somehow. At first, he was confused about that, but then he wasn’t. Being confused isn’t confusing, is it? Is that confusing? Shaking his head and laughing, he took another hit off his vape pen and blew a perfect smoke ring, letting the warm fuzziness flow through him.

Whirrrrrrr-thud

He decided to return to his brainstorming. Although he was hot and not entirely clear-headed, he felt a burst of creative energy all of a sudden. He began to scribble on the notepad, working furiously as sweat began to pool on his forehead once more. He only noticed when it began to trickle down his face, tickling his cheeks and dripping from his chin onto the page. He scrubbed his face with his hand, not noticing that, as he did so, the hairs of his neatly trimmed beard were wiped entirely away, vanishing into thin air.

As he continued to scribble, his newly clean-shaven face grew pockmarked and yet more youthful and supple at the same time. His mustache, the only thing unaffected, began to recede into his upper lip, slowly shrinking back until it was just a dotting of stubble that suggested he’d been trying to grow one out but this was as far as he ever got. As if to compensate, his eyebrows thickened, darkening to a deep brown that better matched (but not entirely) his new hair color. He didn’t even notice the dark black strands hanging down over his eyes anymore, or the careful flick of his head that he gave periodically when he needed to concentrate.

Whirrrrrrr-thud

The warmth around his head eventually made him feel sleepy and dull, and he couldn’t stop yawning. So, after a couple more minutes, he sat back and looked at the perfect tagline he’d been working on, only to realize that he’d just been doodling little cartoons all around the edge of the page instead of actually focusing on work.

“Dude, get a grip,” he said out loud. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Dude? Since when did he say dude?

He decided to take a break, cool down, and grab a Perrier sparkling water. Returning from his fridge with the green bottle, he unscrewed the cap and took a deep swig. His tongue was suddenly awash with the taste of sugary battery acid, and he had to fight not to spit it out. What the…?

He looked down and saw that he had accidentally grabbed a bottle of Mountain Dew, not Perrier. He didn’t remember buying Mountain Dew, but maybe his nephew had left one behind when he had come to visit last? He thought about going back to the fridge to swap out the drinks, but it suddenly seemed so far away. And now that he knew what flavor to expect, the taste wasn’t all that bad, actually.

He took another swig of the soda, the sugary concoction lighting up his insides.

Whirrrrrrr-thud

His skin began to feel itchy. Was he having an allergic reaction to the soda? He lifted up the hem of his hoodie and scratched at his stomach. As he did so, he felt the light blonde hairs of his treasure trail wriggling back into their follicles, leaving him perfectly smooth. What the fuck?

Finally, the shock of what he had just felt pierced his newfound love for the hoodie and he ripped it off, along with the denim jacket. He rushed into the bathroom, arriving in front of the mirror just in time to see his sparse blonde chest hair receding back into his skin. He ripped off his chinos as well, panicking as he saw the hairs on his legs vanishing into thin air. He did a quick 360 and checked in his underwear, noting that the only hair that remained on his entire body was his pubic hair and armpit hair, both of which seemed thicker than usual and were quickly darkening to a deep brown as though they were in a time-lapse video.

He watched this happen in horror, but even with his hoodie off, his head still felt warm and sleepy. His senses felt dulled, and he struggled to think of what he could possibly do next. He began to breathe faster in his panic, his belly jiggling slightly as he did so. Breathe. Jiggle. Breathe. Jiggle. Breathe… Nothing.

As he watched, his soft tummy had begun to recede as well, revealing cobblestone abs like the tide pulling out over a rock formation. His doughy chest began to firm up as well, shrinking into a pair of lean pecs, his round nipples shrinking and popping out from their perches on the hardened mounds as soon as they were finished forming.

“Holy shit, dude, I’m ripped!” he said, letting the slang tumble breezily out of his mouth without a second thought while he rubbed his abs with both hands. The ridges of his stomach made his fingers tingle and his arms shrank, lean muscles emerging from the surface while his legs followed suit, the thighs shrinking into the perfect fit for skinny jeans - where had that thought come from? - while his calf muscles rippled and stretched, their new bulging shape accentuated by his hairless, pale skin.

Whirrrrrrr-THUD

Todd felt the noise from the alley reverberate around his head. It sounded like someone out there must have fucked up a crooked grind real bad. ‘Gnarly,’ he thought, imagining how much pain they must be in. His mental image grew more and more clear and vivid. Somebody falling onto the asphalt on their elbows.

He felt a slash of pain across his elbows and held them up, seeing red in the mirror before it faded into a pair of scarred, scabbed patches that he felt like had always been there. He returned to his reverie. Somebody skinning their knee after narrowly avoiding hitting a tree. Another slash of pain and the skin on his knee suddenly looked knobbly, like it was still healing.

As potent mental images flitted one by one through his brain, scars and scrapes began to dot his body. Slash, slash. Two more long scars on the left knee. Slash. A long red scrape along his right pec that looked dope as hell. Slam. His palms became pockmarked and gravel-scraped.

Not even noticing the pain anymore as his skin toughened and ever-so-slightly tanned, he stood up straight to his full height, admiring the effect of his newfound musculature. He was too busy trying (and failing) to pop his skinny pecs to notice that his “full height” was a couple inches shorter than it used to be.

Whirrrrrrr-thud

The sound of the skaters outside brought him back to the present. Wasn't he supposed to be doing something, other than checking himself out in the mirror? He got dressed, throwing his hoodie and jacket back on. He could have sworn he’d been wearing a different pair of pants earlier, but all he found crumpled on the bathroom floor was his favorite pair of joggers. Oh well, he threw them on too.

He was halfway out the door when he remembered he was supposed to be doing something at home. Where the hell did he think he was going? He shook his head, trying to remember. He still felt sleepy and slow, his thoughts inching along as he tried to remember what he was supposed to be doing.

He reached into his pocket for his vape pen and realized he’d left it on his desk. His desk! That’s what he was doing! He was still on the clock! He needed to work!

He wandered over to his desk, took a drag from the vape, and stared in consternation at the notepad in front of him.

Whirrrrrrr-thud

He knew he was supposed to care about this dumb shit about cat food or whatever, but he really wasn’t feeling it. Something in the back of his mind told him that he’d get money if he finished it though, so he decided to give it a shot. He sat back in his chair and found himself falling, the chair’s seat vanishing beneath him. Before he hit the ground, however, he was caught with a soft flump in a squishy, slick mound.

He looked down and saw that he was in a beanbag chair. Something was wrong here. He could feel his brain slowly whirring. Was it the chair? No, it’s the one he’d brought from home when he moved in. He saw his initials carved crudely into the fabric on his right side.

What was wrong, then? Was it his desk? No, he didn’t have a desk, did he? He looked up and saw his entertainment unit in front of him, his XBOX still glowing green because he’d forgotten to turn it off earlier. No, all that looked normal.

So what was wrong? Was it the fact that he was worrying about money?

Whirrrrrrr-thud

His parents paid for whatever shit he wanted as long as he kept his community college grades up, so there was no need to worry.

Whirrrrrrr-thud

No need to worry at all, really. About anything. Or think, even. He barely ever went to class. He just wanted to hang with his friends at the skate park. But as long as he flirted with his professors the right way, he passed with flying colors. He was a studied flirt, even if he wasn’t a studied anything else.

Anyway, his parents would let him drop out once he proved he could make money as an X Games champion. He rubbed his dick through his joggers, not noticing as it plumped up a few extra inches while he fantasized about all the tail he’d get once he was a skateboarding champion with endorsement deals and shit.

Whirrrrrrr-thud

No, he had all the money he needed. He just wished he was 21 already, so he could buy weed for himself at the dispensary. Then everything would be perfect. Just two more years, he reminded himself. He could survive on stealing shit from his older brother's stash at home until then.

Whirrrrrrr-thud

Todd leaned back in the beanbag and reveled in that sound. His favorite sound. He loved it so much. He never wanted to stop hearing it. With his eyes closed, he didn’t notice the rest of the room change around him. The tasteful Pier One art being swapped out for posters of busty babes and retro Tony Hawk video games sloppily scotch taped onto the walls. The cream-colored couch he’d saved up for was now scuffed, stained orange in patches from crushed Cheeto dust, and stank of weed.

The wall that formerly held potted plants was now devoted to a rack of the sickest custom boards anyone had ever seen. Not that he’d made any of them, he didn’t have time for that shit. He just paid other people to bring his dope-ass ideas to life.

Whirrrrrrr-THUD

Todd was rubbing his dick absent-mindedly again and came in his underwear. Fuck. He hadn’t prematurely ejaculated in months, now. As he changed his underwear, leaving the cum-drenched boxers on the floor by the beanbag, he worried about doing that in front of a babe he wanted to score.

He needn’t have worried. Todd didn’t know it, but he would never have worries again. Inside that underwear, which would remain on the floor forgotten for the next two weeks, contained the last vestiges of his previous life, expelled through pure pleasure at the life he got to live now. What he left behind was a person he would never remember and who he would shudder to think had even existed in the first place.

No, he was destined for a dope life. In a clean pair of underwear and his favorite kicks, he wandered his way into the back alley, watching his friends Tate and Landon practicing tricks while offering them tips and taking a hit off his vape. The grind was over for Todd now, though that word already meant something entirely different to him at this point.

Whirrrrrrr-thud

[staytinyville]

Greed

For my Cult of Dionysus Secret Santa @thelargefrye I hope you love this as much as I did.

↣ Summary: You grew up thinking there was something wrong with you when you couldn’t step a single foot into a church without getting sick. It wasn’t until you became friends with 8 boys that your worry of being possessed by a demon passed and you realized where it was you actually came from. 

↣ Characters/Pairing: ot8 ATEEZ x Reader 

↣ Genre: smut (mdni)

↣ AU/Trope info: Fallen Angel!au, Religious!au, Inspired heavily by Death of a Bachelor album by Panic! At the Disco (Specifically Hallelujah, Emperor's New Clothes, and Don’t Threaten Me with a Good Time)

↣ Word Count: 9,024

↣ Warnings: Very wrong depictions of the church, small amount of blood, I swear you might think it’s grooming but it’s not because I do in fact explain how everything worked, soulmate type deal almost

↣ A/N: This is the longest imagine I have ever written (that isn’t an entire like chapter type fic). But damn if I didn’t love writing this and creating the story. If some of these conversations didn’t make me giggle. Really got my creative juices flowing with this. 

Staytinyville’s Permanent Taglist

↣ Affiliates: @cultofdionysusnet , @pirateeznet , @wonderlandnet

↣ Special Thanks: Thank you @saradika-graphics for the amazing banners! Please go check her out if you have specific banners in mind. She is great!

You couldn’t remember a time where you didn’t have one of the four boys flocking at your side at all times. You could remember meeting them in grade school–three boys who had chubby cheeks each and eyes that sparkled every time they looked at you. The fourth one came in the following year seeing as he was younger than you all. But still once he made his way into your life things had always been the same. 

You, Yunho, Yeosang, and Mingi were all in the same grade–being in the same kinder class at the age of 5. You stayed quiet that first day of classes, opting to stay where the teacher had assigned you to and listen to every instruction. The table was meant for four kids, and seeing as your class only had so many girls, the teacher had made a move to place at least one girl at each table.

So you were destined to be sat with three other boys who beamed the moment they saw you. They each introduced themselves that day, sharing their school supplies or making sure they were always next to you in the line. You had thought you had made great friends that day, having people to play with rather than just waiting for someone to go up to you. 

It was an eventful year for your little 5 year old brain to really see that over time the other kids seemed to talk behind your back. It was often petty little toddler drama about a girl who didn’t want to be your friend because you were friends with one of the boys they had a crush on. There was one fight that had escalated too far that six children had to be taken into the front office to have a talk. 

Like always you were giggling as Yunho chased after you, Mingi and Yeosang trapping you on the playground to keep you from running away. Yunho had told Mingi and Yeosang to go the other way, wanting to catch you before you got off. But you found another route and ended up on the other side of the playground. 

Just as you were about to jump off the last step of the structure, some girls quickly crowded you causing you to flinch from the sudden invasion of privacy. You froze on the steps, standing above them as you looked down. 

“Excuse me.” You politely told them, trying to move around them. 

They barely moved as you reached the ground, causing you to bump into their shoulders. “You need to stay away from Yeosang! He’s my boyfriend.” One girl called out. 

You turned around confused, frowning at the girl’s words. “He’s my boy friend too.” You tilted your head to the side. “He can have more than one friend.” You explained to her. “He has Yunho and Mingi too.”

“No! He’s only mine.” She continued to yell–she even stomped her foot. 

“Hey, don’t yell at her.” Mingi said, coming up as the three boys finally caught up with you. 

“Yeosang, tell her you're my boyfriend.” The girl pointed her finger at you, causing you to hunch your shoulders back as tears began to form in your eyes from her anger. 

Your lips began to tremble, which Yunho immediately saw. He took your hand then, pulling you into a hug. 

“I can have more than one friend.” Yeosang told the girl. 

“No! You can only have one.” The girl continued. 

“Then I want (Y/N). She lets me have more friends.” Yeosang walked over to where Yunho was hugging you, taking your hand into his. 

“No! You are mine!” With that the girl quickly shoved Yeosang and Yunho off you. 

Her little hands were on your body as she shoved you down onto the floor. You yelped out, feeling the small pebbles digging into your palms as they created wounds. You started to cry loudly, making the girl look at you with wide eyes. 

“(Y/N).” Mingi cried, his own tears forming in his eyes as he saw you hurt. The boy quickly dropped down to you, hugging you closely to him. Yeosang sat down too as Yunho looked around to find a teacher. 

You, the three boys, the girl who had pushed and someone who saw in passing all were sent to the headmasters to talk about what had happened. Your wounds were used as evidence for the girl's shove, even if she tried to argue that you had shoved her too. But all three boys were backing you up and the kid who was there as a witness solidified things. 

That was the day things settled in that you were not going to make many friends who were girls that year. The class already had a few and they all disliked you because you had all the boys wanting to be your friend. 

When you three had entered 1st grade, you had all met Jongho who was a year below. You all had an assembly in the gym when you met the boy first. He had sat next to you and gave you a kind smile, kicking his feet from sitting next to you. When you all would get the chance to play on the playground together he would be seen running with all four of you, keeping up. 

It was also discovered that he lived in the same neighborhood as you all, right next door to Yunho. So when you would have playdates, all of them were invited. It didn’t feel right when one of them wasn’t present. Like there was a part of you missing. 

Jongho had been the first one to ever be missing from some playdate, which led you to realize the problem you had when he was gone. The three boys who had known you for longer than a year were quick to realize when something was wrong with you. 

“Are you okay?” Mingi asked.

“I miss Jongho.” You spoke out loud. 

The three boys all looked at each other, humming in agreement. “We can go see him.” Yunho suggested, coming to a stand from the coloring all four of you were doing. “His parents told me I can go over whenever I want.” The boy added. 

All four of you quickly got up and followed after Yunho. He walked over to the younger boy’s house next door, knocking once he made it past the porch. Jongho’s mother opened the door, greeting all of you. Her eyes lingered on you for a moment, clearing her throat as she turned back to Yunho. 

“Can Jongho come out and play with us?” He asked the mother politely. 

“Jongho has to finish homework first and then he can play.” She answered. 

“Can we help him?” You immediately spoke up, not wanting to waste more time without him. “It will go by quicker.” You explained. 

The woman thought for a moment before sighing and allowing you all to walk in. Jongho was in the living room doing his homework at the coffee table. When he saw all of you walking in, he grinned grew and his eyes sparkled. 

“They are here to help you finish. Not play.” His mother told him. “You can do that after finishing.”

“I’ll help you.” You told him, sitting down next to him to where your shoulders touched. 

So you spent a good 15 minutes helping him out with his work, the three other boys watching and helping out where they could. By the time you knew it, all four of you were outside playing tag like normal. However, you still felt like things were missing. 

Because of them, everyone else in your class seemed to avoid you. The girls called you names for always hanging around boys. You tried to do what they did–tried to play their games and ask your parents to dress you up in pretty clothes to fit in–but no matter what you tried to do the others would still alienate you out of games because they knew the boys were always on your side. 

You once tried to get them to stop being your friends in 2nd grade but it seemed to prove difficult. Every time you would distance yourself from them, nightmares would plague your sleep leaving you crying at night. You worried your parents so much they tried to find a solution by taking up a religion they thought would be able to help you all. 

However it was obvious that did not help. Not until Yeosang had gone up to you the day after you tried to get them to leave you alone and asked if you were okay. That was the first night you had not had a nightmare. It was also the day you realized you couldn’t be without them. 

So you grew accustomed to their presence. 

You could remember the first time your parents had forced you to go to church with them. It was the Sunday after you made up with the boys and spent a couple of days without nightmares. You were only 7 when you stepped into the place of worship. 

You remember it like it had just happened the day before. If only because it was the start of a horrendous life that your parents wanted for you. At least a life they forced on you. 

“Hey you go, (Y/N).” Mingi told you, handing you a chalk stick to continue painting along the sidewalk. 

“Thank you, Mingi.” You answered him, bending down to color in your poor drawing of a unicorn. 

“Anything for you.” The boy beamed, giving you a tooth filled smile. 

You blushed, eyes almost closing from how wide you had smiled back. You, along with your four boyfriends as your classmates called them, were all enjoying the Sunday sun drawing on the neighborhood sidewalk. 

Yeosang had been kind enough to bring out his chalks and called upon all of you to spend time together. Yunho had come from down the street with Jongho, while Mingi joined you quickly, seeing as he was your next door neighbor. 

“(Y/N).” You snapped your head up, seeing your parents looking at you coldly from the front porch. 

“We have to go.” Your mother called. Her eyes scanned over the four boys that seemed to crowd you, wanting to share your space. “Now.” She said harshly.

You got up in a hurry, wiping your hands on the grass for a moment so as to not stain your white church dress. “I'll see you guys later.” You gave the boys each a smile, turning around to join your parents in the car. 

The moment you stepped through the large doors of the brightly colored church it felt like your throat closed up. The stained glass that showcased different kinds of stories made shivers go down your back. The pews that were lined with more church goers made you miss a step and almost trip on yourself. 

And the large cross that was placed directly in the middle of a stone table made you feel nauseous. 

“Stop slouching.” Your mother scolded, pushing your shoulders back to straighten you out. 

“I don't like it here.” You whispered, swallowing down the bile that was rising in your throat. 

You flinched and turned behind you as you heard some screeching noise. It made the hairs on your arms stand, leaving you frightful. 

“How can you say that?” Your father shook his head. “This is a house of god. He has done no wrong to you for you to say that. You should be thanking him because we are here to help with your nightmares.”

“My nightmares stopped though.” You told him. 

You began to roll your shoulders, your stomach making weird noises as the cross seemed to get bigger the more you stared at it. You squeezed your eyes shut as the screeching was suddenly heard directly behind you, rocking back and forth to get it to go away. 

The old man you knew to be the father began to speak to the mass, which only made the swirling of your stomach get worse. “I don't know.” You shook your head, hands clutching onto your dress. “It feels really stuffy in here.” You swallowed again. 

And when the father began to recite words from the holy book, things made you go dizzy. 

“I'm going to be sick.” And with that you turned to your mother and let go of all your breakfast into her lap. 

“(Y/N)!” Your mother screeched, standing up and interrupting the sermon. 

And that was the start of your anxiety-inducing journey of attending church every Sunday and throwing up every week. It got to the point where you were terrified of stepping into the church, not wanting to have the acidic taste fill your mouth once again. 

“Why does she get sick so easily, father?” Your mother cried. “And it's only in the church!”

“I cannot explain it.” The man sighed, shaking his head. “But there is something that is tethering her to the other world.” He looked out the window to see you playing in the church yard with your four friends. 

“Something attached to her.” He finished. 

Your parents looked at each other. As they saw you laughing with the young boys, they frowned as they thought about something sinister overtaking your body without anyone knowing. 

“An exorcist?” Your mother whispered. 

“We can try.”

And so you sat patiently a couple times a week for the next few years as the father received things in a language you didn’t understand. A couple of times it would be your church's pastor, other times it would be someone new they would bring in thinking it would change things. At one point you heard your parents talking with the pastor that they had brought someone in from the Vatican. 

However, even then, you sat patiently swinging your legs back and forth as they would repeat the words you had learned by heart at that point. You would repeat it in your head to go to bed, even telling the father of the church that you did that. 

It left him and everyone else baffled at how you seemed to get sick so easily in a church but somehow didn’t react to the exorcism. It seemed that whatever was keeping you from going to a house of worship was not what they had originally thought it to be. 

“Please we've done everything but there is nothing!” Your father had finally started to cry after years of trying to fix your problems. 

“Your daughter doesn't have a demon attached to her.” The pastor explained. “Nothing close to sinister. At least not that we can tell.”

“Then what can it possibly be!?” Your mother was frustrated. 

“God is punishing your child for something she has done.” Was all the father told your parents. 

They kept trying–taking you back every week to see if one day you would magically stop getting sick at the church. You went your entire grade school and middle school life getting sick to your stomach until you left the wooden boards and felt the dirt under your shoes. 

You tried to make your parents stop taking you, but they stuck to their belief that you had something inside of you that needed to be expelled. So you endured it. You cried on Saturday hoping that the next day would be the day everything stopped. The day you were finally free of the sickness that tormented you each time you saw that white building. 

Until one Sunday, things took a turn in a direction you didn’t know if you were allowed to go in.

Puberty had come and gone for each of you, changing everything to prepare yourself for adulthood. You had all taken classes that explained most of what it was–what was the human body and what came with it. You were taught what most people needed to know in order to have a smoother transition into your teenage years. 

However what the classes didn’t teach you was the sickening feeling you got each time you saw one of the boys. It left you feeling icky because of how much you wanted to be with them–how much something called you to them. You had asked your parents about it and they only gave you angry responses. They had told you to stop seeing the boys for a while but when the nightmares returned you couldn’t stay away. 

You had sat down with the boys to ask them about it. And they all seemed to have the same answers. 

“I don’t know. Ever since I started puberty I’ve been having these weird dreams.” Mingi told everyone first. 

“What kind of dreams?” Yunho asked. 

“I think it’s heaven.” You looked at him oddly, tilting your head to the side. You didn’t notice how the other boys all shared the same look. 

“I have those too.” Yeosang spoke up. “We’re all there. With other people too.”

“It seems like you’re looking through someone else’s memories.” Jongho explained. “Yunho?”

The boy had a dazed look on his face, seemingly lost in thought. He quickly looked up at the others, giving them a kind smile. He was the oldest out of all of you, probably the smartest seeing as he always had an answer for everything. 

“You’ll understand when you finish going through puberty.” He told you all. 

“I don’t have those dreams.” You frowned. “They didn’t tell us it was part of puberty.”

“For us it is.” Yunho told you. “You have to wait for yours.”

While you were glad to know you weren’t the only odd one out, you were still left confused at how much Yunho didn’t seem to tell you. And the confusion only reached tenfold after each of the boys began to talk in private or hang out without you. You were upset about those kinds of things but you realized they were boys–you weren’t always going to be there with them. 

The Sunday that changed your life was some random one in your Sophmore year of high school. 

It was the day your new neighbor had moved in. He was a year older than you and the boys–already a junior in high school. You had been walking home from the library with your four boys, pressing yourself to whoever had been walking next to you that day. You had explained to your parents that you had to finish a report before going to church that day.

“Such a pretty girl.” Jongho brushed your cheek with the tips of his fingers. “My love.” He whispered.

“Did you say something, Jongho?” You asked, turning from your conversation with Yunho.

“No.” The boy grinned. “I was talking with Yeosang.” He answered.

“Are you still going to church?” Yeosang asked, coming up next to Yunho who stood to your left. 

You had to lean over to see around the tall boy, smiling grimly at Yeosang. “I have to. You know my parents always make me.”

“Would you like for us to go with you?” Yunho asked, fingers brushing against your own causing yours to twitch. 

Things had started to change between the five of you when you had all entered high school. You began to see each of the boys differently. You watched as they grew out of the chubby cheeks and turned into handsome men. 

Yunho and Mingi grew to be the tallest out of all of you. Jongho began to fill out his body, his baby fat filling the right places as he began to look like a bear. And Yeosang was probably the one who called all the girl’s attention. His birthmark was the one thing that made you recognize the boy anywhere. 

Because of this, you started to question if things were going to be okay. Having a crush was nothing you were new to. However, being in love with all of them made you anxious. It wasn’t normal. Not from what your parents would explain to you. Not from what you read in the book they made you study. It was a sin. 

But how could you say anything when you couldn’t even step foot into a church. 

“No, it's alright.” You smiled at him. “You guys do enough.”

As your house came into view, you all saw a moving truck parked in the road. The house next to yours–the one that wasn’t Mingi’s–had the door open with people moving in and out. 

“You guys have a new neighbor.” Yunho told you and Mingi.

“I guess so.” You spoke up.

You weren’t able to see the subtle look each of them gave each other. They gave small nods of their head before turning back to look at you. “Let's go say hello.” Yunho added. 

And so there you were, standing on the porch waiting for your new neighbor to walk out. And when he did, your lips pressed into a thin line as you took him in. He reminded you of the angels you would read about, the ones you would see depicted in pictures. You didn’t think that was how they truly looked. You couldn’t see them as cherubs that flew around with wings. 

In your eyes all you could think of is black feathers that fell from the sky. A bright light that shined in your eyes from a part of you that was taken away. You couldn’t look at them for too long, being reminded of something that you didn’t want to be. However for some reason, this was one you couldn’t tear your eyes away from. 

“Hello.” He smiled at you. “I'm Seonghwa.”

“(Y/N).” You shook your head. “These are my friends.” You gestured to the boys standing at the end of the porch, all of them giving nods in greetings. 

Seonghwa gave them a smirk, nodding his head back before turning to look at you. “It's nice to meet you all.” He spoke out loud.  

His eyes trailed down your body, taking note of your nice dress and ruffled socks. “Are you going somewhere?” He asked.

“I have to go to church.” You answered.

“Do you need company?” He immediately asked.

“Not at all.” You shook your head. “I won't be long.” You felt the need to tell him. “Thank you.” You quickly added, minding your manners. 

“Anything for you.” Seonghwa smiled softly. 

You didn’t question the way he spoke to you. You had other worries on your mind as you drove towards the building that had left you with trauma. However this was the day that changed all that you had known about the church.

You had walked calmly behind your parents that day, head dropped to the floor as you prepared yourself for the nauseating feeling that would ultimately burst the moment you passed the doors.  But your shoes scuffed against the floorboards, creaking with each step you took deeper into the building. 

You had reached the pews and the seats your parents normally sat at. You sat down, looking around as you waited for something to start giving you anxiety. You had never made it farther than the music that the choir sang–usually letting go of your breakfast by then. 

And yet, you were there the whole time, listening as a young man played the piano for the choir. You listened to the father you had become acquainted with as he began the sermon, speaking about the god that the people worshiped. You flinched as each new song began to play as the man skimmed his fingers along the keyboard each time. 

And when the final song came to a finish, your family looked at you with wide eyes. Tears began to slip from their face as you had not gotten sick once. Not a single complaint about a bad stomach. Not even a single peep from your lips as you seemed to be in a trance the whole time. What they didn’t catch was the way your eyes were directly at the new boy who played within the choir. 

The father was the first to greet your parents in astonishment as he watched you standing directly in front of him after the hour long service. He couldn’t believe that here you were standing next to him without so much as looking green. Even he couldn’t believe his eyes.

You couldn’t look him in the eyes, choosing to glance around at the church that you had never gotten the chance of admiring. Still though, the glass stained windows with depicted stories left you unsettled–like a bug crawling under your skin. 

“You don’t like them either?” You turned your head, facing a boy who had blue hair. 

He was looking up at the windows, sucking his teeth as he sneered at them. When he turned back to you, your eyebrows rose. You got the same feeling you had when meeting Seonghwa, flashes of falling feathers seeping into your mind. Your mouth opened as you let go of a breath, pressing your lips together as you didn’t know what to say. 

“Oh, this is Hongjoong.” The father introduced the boy to you and your parents. “He’s one of the orphan boys the church took in. They will be under my tutelage.”

You kept your eyes on him, trying to find out what it was that made him so familiar. He reminded you of your friends, like you had known them forever. Like he meant something more to you. 

“An amazing boy with the piano. A protege, honestly! If he hadn’t insisted on wanting to become a father, I would have had him become a performer.” The father laughed. 

Your parents beamed, telling Hongjoong he was an amazing pianist and that his performance was grand to watch. With your parents occupied over talking about your sudden healing, Hongjoong took the liberty of taking you away to the piano, sitting down carefully as he began to lightly press on the keys. 

“You did play beautifully.” You told him. “I had never heard something like that.”

Hongjoong laughed, smiling brightly at you. “It means a lot coming from you.”

Hongjoong began to play another tune, causing you to become dizzy with an emotion you couldn’t explain. While he continued to enjoy his playing, you took the liberty of moving up the little stage at the front and behind the stone table. 

Nothing seemed to cause you any harm. Not until you would catch sight of a mis-depicted angel. You subconsciously would sneer at them, quickly turning your head to avoid further headaches. You could feel the statues mocking you, laughing at your expense. When you reached the cloth covered stone table, you turned, looking out over the empty church. 

Taking in the deep breath you felt something buzzing around the building, malice seeping out of its presence. You frowned, shoulders shaking from the ghostly being. You felt fingers touching you harshly, as though they wanted to hurt you–pulling at your hair, pinching your skin. 

Hongjoong had stopped playing, turning around to face you with wide eyes. But you were too in your own head to notice that something had moved the large cross off its hanger behind you. 

All you heard was your mother’s scream and people rushing forward. You turned around to find what it was they were looking at, only catching sight of the large wooden structure heading towards you. It never touched you though, someone having reached you on time and quickly saving you from a large gash to the head and possible death. 

You flinched a bit, eyes closing shut as you were brought out of your stupor. You turned to find your savior, catching sight of a man with cat-like eyes. He had broad shoulders, ones you were gripping onto to keep from falling over. 

“Are you alright, heaven?” He asked you quietly, his lips a breath away from yours. 

You nodded your head softly, feeling your legs come back to life as you tried to stand on your own. Your fingertips tingle when you feel his own slot themselves between yours, interlocking your hands. He helped you to stand on your own feet, keeping you at arm's length. 

You didn’t notice your family and the father quickly making their way over to you. You didn’t hear them fussing and asking you if you were okay. All you could see was the way the boy’s eyes seemed to sparkle as they looked at you. 

“Thank you so much, son!” Your father patted him on the back. “You have no idea how terrible that would have been if (Y/N) had been hit.”

Your mother was frowning at the cross, keeping an eye on the wood figure that was on the floor in shards. “You don’t think-” You mother began but was stopped as another boy came up to the statue and quickly began to clean it up. 

The father began to speak to him, causing you to look over at him. They were discussing how the statue had fallen, taking note of the nails that had been embedded into the wall had popped out. The father turned back to your parents, but you kept looking at Hongjoong and the other two boys cleaning up the cross. 

“No,” The father waved your mother’s worry away. “It was faulty screws.” He pointed up to where the cross was. “Nothing out of the ordinary.”

You felt sick to your stomach as your eyes zeroed in on the screws. Your lips turned up, hearing someone snicker in your ear. You looked over your shoulder, trying to find the issue. It wasn’t until you heard someone’s sharp intake of breath that you turned around to find the problem. 

“Your hand.” You said, finding the boy who had started cleaning up first cradling his finger that had a bleeding poke from a splinter. 

You leaned down next to him, between the one who had saved you cradling his hand closer to you. He watched as you carefully took out the splinter before moving his finger up to your mouth. You didn’t know what came over you, or how it was you knew to do that. But you slowly licked over his wound, cleaning the small droplet of blood from his palm. 

It wasn’t a lot, maybe a drop or two that seemed to cause a small dribble. As you pulled away from him, you looked up to see all three of the boys staring at you with wide eyes, mouths agape. Your own eyes went wide, quickly letting go of the boy, coming to a stand.

“No!” The boy spoke up, standing next to you. “Don’t be sorry, my love.” He told you, eyes bright as he looked at you. 

“You’re (Y/N). Right?” He continued, holding his hands together at his chest making him look cute. 

“Yes.” You nodded slowly, a bit speechless from his looks. 

“I’m Wooyoung.” The boy smiled. “The man who saved you is San.” He gestured to the broad shoulder boy. “It feels so great to be with you.” He reached a hand out for you, gently cradling it with his. 

You didn’t question any of their words that day. You didn’t think much about their nicknames for you or how they spoke as if they had known you for ages. Any sane person probably would have, but you weren’t normal. At least not until you had finally met all 8 of them. They made you feel whole–like that was a part of you missing this whole time. For once in your life, there was nothing wrong with who you were–what you did. 

At least that was what you thought. Your family thought something else completely. 

When you finished high school, they had tried to take you away from them all. They didn’t like how much they all doted on you. At least not all of them. They didn’t like that you spent so much time with them–alone. They would yell at you, call you names that made you look down in shame. 

You knew all about those people who roamed the streets at night, looking for company. That wasn’t who you were. Wasn’t who you wanted to be. But you couldn’t let go of them. You needed them all there with you or else it wouldn’t feel right. They meant everything to you, just as you meant everything to them.

But still, you chose to appease your parents. You would go to the church–confess your sins to the father who had known you since you were a child. He wouldn’t tell you anything but you knew he would repeat what you said back to your parents. And when you did you would get looks that showed they were disgusted with you. 

First they were terrified of you, worried that something was inside of you that was not meant to be there. Now they were disgusted, and knew exactly what it was that made you sick in church. God knew the kind of person you would become so they punished you for it. Now you had to repent to fix the mistakes you were bound to make. 

You were going for your weekly confession, bringing along the five boys who had always trailed you since high school. The other three were waiting on the other side of the church doors, any moment they would come out to greet the others as they would wait for you to finish and then walk you home. 

“We'll wait out here for you.” Seonghwa spoke to you, leaning down to touch his forehead with yours. 

“I'll be quick.” You told him, giving the other four boys a smile. 

You walked in as you had for the past 20+ years of your life. You took in a breath, knowing that the sick feeling wasn’t going to come up after so long. Your feet shuffled towards the box that you had memorized inside and out. You knew where every splinter was, every scratch, every paint stain. It was something you were once again forced to do–even after so many years. 

You sat down on the bench, closing the door behind you and waiting for the father to get situated. When he did, you leaned back, head bumping into the back rest. 

“Forgive me father for I have sinned.” You spoke monotonously, already knowing how things were going to go. 

“What troubles you my dear?” The voice spoke up, catching your attention as you sat up. 

“Hongjoong?” You questioned, turning to the side where the father would normally sit. 

You could barely make out his dazzling grin, the way his cheeks rose as he smiled at you with glee. You knew how he looked–you always enjoyed looking at all of them. But you were here to confess about him, you couldn’t exactly tell him about it now. 

“Hello, my dear.” Hongjoong smiled.  

“Where’s the father?” You asked. 

“He is allowing me to take his place for the time being. Let me get some practice in–think of me as the father.”

You sat back, sighing as you realized you weren’t going to be able to get out of it. You wanted to get it off your chest–having had it pent up for the last couple of days from when you last confessed. It was always the same thing over and over again. But with Hongjoong now being the one to listen to you, things changed. 

“But that's why I'm here, Hongjoong.” You sighed, dropping your head back. “I have to confess I have not been on the right path.”

“And what path is that?” He asked, sounding professional. 

“One of sin.” You answered. 

“Is that what you think of it?” He spoke up, eyes on you as he kept his head forward. “Why?”

“Because I am not meant to be greedy.” You whispered, turning away from him knowing he was one of the reasons. 

“You think it’s greedy?” You heard him lean forward, chin moving to rest on his hands. “To have feelings?”

You didn’t know how it was he knew, but it seemed like he did. He knew where it was you were going with the whole thing. Of course he did–him and all the others always knew. 

“It’s greedy to love.” You explained to him. 

“It’s how we procreate though.” Hongjoonf shrugged, moving to sit back again. “So why is it?”

“Because I’m not supposed to love 8 men.” You cried. 

He kept trying to get you to say it, and you did. You didn’t know if you were meant to–this wasn’t the normal conversation you would always have with the father. All he knew from all that you would tell him was that you spent too much time with men and it left you bothered. 

Truly it didn’t. It left your family bothered, so you would try to lessen their anger by doing as you were told. But here you were finally confessing the real reason you felt like you weren’t good enough to be a person. Because you had been so traumatized that you began to think what you were feeling wasn’t right. 

“It’s not okay! I am to be the wife of one man only. I have to give him children and continue my family line.” Your voice quieted down, looking down at your hands. 

“And?” Hongjoong only shrugged. 

“I can't love all of them!” You gasped out, coming to a stand but immediately sitting back down knowing there was no space. “That's being greedy.”

“I don't think you should worry about being greedy.” Hongjoong sighed, leaning back nonchalantly. “You are your own person who deserves everything she wants.”

He paused for a moment, making you turn to look at him. You couldn’t see him completely but you knew he was in thought. 

“Do you love us?” He asked you suddenly.  

You felt your breath stop for a moment. Your fingers twitched on your lap, clenching onto the fabric of your skirts. “It's wrong—”

“Do you love us, (Y/N)?” He asked again, stopping you from continuing your rant. 

You had never thought of the word when thinking about the boys. You knew that there was something there that seemed to call to you but you had no idea that it was love. You couldn’t be without them just as they couldn’t be without you. You would get physically sick not being able to spend time with them together. 

There wasn’t a time where you wouldn't think about them. Wouldn’t want them to be at your side to take care of you. You knew they meant so much to you. A lot more than you were willing to understand. It went beyond physical emotions. It was something out of this world. 

“Yes.” You answered quietly. 

Hongjoong paused once more, the silence filling up in your throat as your words lingered in the air. 

“Then come home to us.”

You went home that day. To your parents waiting for you to have dinner with the rest of your family. Watching as they all bowed their heads in prayer, reciting the same words as the ones from the morning at breakfast. Calmly eating with your head down to avoid catching your parents eyes. 

You took slow bites, making sure you didn’t catch too much attention to yourself. You tried to make yourself small, but of course, even if you did, you were still noticeable in the eyes of your parents. 

“Did you go see the father today, (Y/N)?” Your mother started, calmly eating as though she wasn’t about to cause a scene.

“I did.” You answered.

“And those boys?” She continued. 

“What about them?” You didn’t look at her, trying to show that you weren’t really bothered by her question. 

“Did you see them?” She asked again. 

“No.” You swallowed your food. 

You didn’t think your parents were dumb. You knew even if you denied your mother’s question they would know that you had been with the boys. It was the same thing over and over again. As it has always been since you were a little girl. It wasn’t physical abuse but mentally you were exhausted. 

Before bed, you sat on your knees, clasped your hands together and recited the same prayers you had for years. Your parents made you sleep with the door open, they could hear you skip a day of prayer. It was the routine. What you had engraved in your head for years. 

It was easy to fall asleep. Easy to fall prey to a dream that makes you gasp for air. A dream that showed you just the kind of life you used to live. With whom you used to live. 

The walls were too bright, you couldn’t see anything past what was above you, what was next to you–under you. The feathers felt soft under your fingertips, almost like you were on a bed instead of the ground. You could feel their hands softly touching your skin with their fingertips–it made you close your eyes as tears began to pool.

“Don’t cry, my heaven.” Your eyes slowly opened, coming face to face with Seonghwa.

You hummed, a hand moving up to touch his cheek. “Seonghwa.” You whispered, stroking your thumb along his cheek. 

He smiled at you, moving back. His hand drifted down your arm, pulling you to a sitting position. As he sat behind you, pulling your back to his chest, you noticed someone else coming up at your side. They lightly grabbed onto your hand, pulling it up to kiss your knuckles.  

“Jongho.” You breathlessly spoke up, smiling at the man. 

“Yeosang.” You said next, your other hand moving to grab onto the man who walked on your other side. 

“My love.” He whispered. 

“Heaven.” You looked down, giggling as Wooyoung pressed his cheek to one of your thighs. 

Letting go of Jongho and Yeosang, you ran your fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp lightly. 

“Sannie.” You smiled, watching as the boy pressed his own cheek to your other leg. You did the same as you did to Wooyoung, watching as his eyes closed and he hummed in content. “Sweetheart.” He hummed, giving your knee a kiss. 

You almost hit his cheek as your body tingled from his lips pressing against your skin. You giggled, stroking his skin as he reveled in your touch. 

You felt two more people make their presence known at your sides, touching your shoulders as their heads nuzzled closer to your neck. 

“You made it.” Yunho breathed against your skin. 

“We have been waiting for so long.” Mingi left a small kiss on your neck, leaving you to close your eyes in pleasure. 

“Mingi.” You answered breathlessly, rolling your head to give him more room for kisses. 

Opening your eyes, you turned the other way to smile at the boy at your side. “Yunho.” You smiled, moving to rub a thumb along his cheek. 

You took the moment to look around some, noticing there was one still missing. You knew he was here–you always knew when they were all there. 

“Hongjoong?” You quietly called out, looking in front of you as a silhouette appeared and began to walk closer to you. 

The other’s began to run their fingers along your skin again, applying both light and harsh pressure. All of your skin was on display, nothing hidden to their eyes just as nothing of theirs was. You could feel their skin on yours, feel their warmth radiating onto your very being. It made you dizzy. Made you want to fall into the bed of feathers and lay with them as you were meant to. 

“We are yours to please.” San whispered, rubbing his cheek against your thigh.  

“Yours to do as you wish.” Wooyoung’s hands moved along your other thigh, messaging the skin. 

“We are here as your lovers.” Songhwa whispered in your ear from behind you. 

“You are our one true treasure.” Jongho squeezed the side of your hip.

“We will do all that you ask of us.” Yeosang’s hand came up to brush against your breast.

“The reason we live.” Yunho’s lips brushed against your cheek, nose bumping along your temple. 

“The final piece of our earth defying souls.” Mingi kept his lips pressed to your neck. 

Someone pulled at your chin, making you look up at him. You breathed out your mouth falling open as Hongjoong kept his lips just enough away from yours to make you tremble. 

“Our angel.” He was the first to take your lips.

The others moved out of the way as Hongjoong leaned over you, pushing you back against Seonghwa. His knee placed itself between your legs, causing you to move your hands down to his naked thigh. You let go of him though when more hands started to roam your body once more. 

You felt hands start to play with each of your breasts, fingers lightly skimming over your nipples. Two more pulled your thighs apart, hands slipping between them as they messages your heated skin. A pair began to rub at your hips, pressing his fingers into your soft skin. Separate hands rubbed at your neck, thumbs pressing into your pulse point causing you to feel dizzy from the lack of air. 

Hongjoong leaned back from your lips, watching as your eyes fluttered open. “Tell us what you want.” He whispered. 

He leaned back then, allowing you room to look at them all. Seonghwa’s lips skimmed the shell of your ear. Mingi and Yunho kissed your shoulders. Jongho and Yeosang attached their lips to the side of your breast. San and Wooyoung placed open mouth kisses along the side of your hips. 

“I want all of you.” You breathed out. 

“Then take us.”

And so your head fell back onto Seonghwa’s shoulders, eyes falling shut as you felt all of them attach their lips to your body. They all kiss and suck at their own pleasure, leaving marks on your body that let them know who it was that you belonged to. They all left their own special marks, different shapes and sizes–in different parts of your body. 

You felt them everywhere. Felt them touch you in a way you had never been touched. They showed you things you would never be able to see on your own. They made you feel things you had never felt before. It was euphoric, a feeling you would never be able to get enough of. You needed more–something they gave you. 

You had them all. One by one they took the time to worship you. 

Hongjoong was the first, taking your lips and allowing himself to feel your warm walls around him as he laid on top of you. Seonghwa came next, keeping you sitting on his lap as you bounced with his thrusts. Yunho had you lay on your back, legs held up to rest on his shoulders as he held your thighs. Yeosang had been the most gentle, spooning you from behind as he kept one of your legs up to keep you from getting tired. 

San had you on top, sitting on him as he laid down and used a hand to grope your breasts. Mingi didn’t hold back and held you up against him, groaning and whining in your ear. Wooyoung was a childish one, taking you from behind while he held you against his chest and his fingers lightly pushed into your neck. Jongho was the last one, but he was the longest, taking his time and slowly moving to keep you from burning out after so many orgasms. 

And once you were done, heat leaking with so much cum, you still felt full and complete. Even if you were tired and probably hallucinating from everything but you knew now what you were. What you had been. And you knew the reason you were casted out. It was the very same thing that had stuffed you full one by one. 

You had been greedy in heaven.

It was somewhere in the middle of the night when you had woken up. Fog was settling in outside as the streetlamps illuminated the neighborhood. It reminded you of a horror movie but you knew where the real horrors lied. You felt something had changed in your body. Something that didn’t leave you scared of who you were or what you had. 

You were no demon from hell that had come to create chaos. You were a daughter of god who had chosen to love instead of following orders. You were an angel. The angel who had 8 men waiting for her at their home. 

And so you left in that moment, pajamas still on your body, feet bare as you walked towards the church you grew to hate so much. You could hear the whispers the closer you got, but you only sneered their way. You jaw locked, not wanting to hear another moment of their mindless gossip. 

When you threw the door open, the whispers stopped, everything coming to a harsh silence as you looked down at the aisle and towards the altar.

Hongjoong sat in the middle of the stone table, playing with an hourglass in his hands as he flipped it back and forth. The other seven boys were scattered around, turning their heads the moment they heard you enter. You walked closer, fingers twitching at your side. 

“Why were we casted out?” You asked, taking the steps that led to the small stage. 

“Because our love was seen as greedy.” Hongjoong stood up from the table. “What we do isn’t what others think is right.”

“Father would never think that.” You told him, looking at all the boys who gave you small smiles. 

They grew closer to you, Hongjoong taking your hand and turning you around to sit on the table. They began to surround you as they had in the dream, touching your body. 

“It wasn’t father.” Yunho answered you. “It was our brothers and sisters.”

“They would never understand what we have.” Jongho told you. “Too jealous of the power we had together. 

“But yet, father gave us the chance to find it here–on earth.” Seonghwa smiled, lips brushing against your hair. “We have you here with us now.”

Your lips pressed together as you glanced over all of them. All those feelings you had since you were a child were making sense. The time when the boys went through puberty and were having dreams of heaven. The times when they would hang out without you. You understood where it was they were coming from, but it only left you confused on why you had taken so long to notice where you were in your past life. 

“Why did it take me so long?” You asked. “Why were you all able to find the truth before me?”

They took a moment to look at each other, telepathically coming up with an answer to your question. They already had it but they had to make sure they worded it in a way that you understood. 

“Father had us know the truth before you did because you went through challenges that kept you from learning the truth” Yeosang explained to you. “Your parents prevented you from seeing who you truly were which led to you having inner struggles with yourself.”

“The moment you realized you loved us was the moment you found your past self.” Wooyoung smiled at you, eyes tearing up at the thought of you finally being with them fully. “Your parents were filling your pretty head with nonsense about the church that made you question everything about us and yourself.”

You moved a hand out to wipe at his eyes, making the boy nuzzle into the palm of your hand. 

“We never questioned what we felt for you so we found ourselves quickly.” Mingi began. “We all understood once we finished puberty. It was when we all got our wings back.” Mingi said.

“Wings?” You furrowed your eyebrows. 

The boys suddenly grinned, all perking up at the idea of showing you something magnificent. San, Wooyoung, and Yeosang all moved to stand in front of you, hands stretched out not wanting to let you go for a moment. 

The only things in the whole church that had lighting were the candles practically finished burning through and the bright full moon that was on full display behind you, but you could easily see the boys clear as day. They stood a good amount apart, squaring their shoulders and the moonlight that showed through the window behind the pillars. 

A cloud suddenly passed over the moon, blocking out the light for just a moment. But in a quick second the moon flooded its light causing shadows to fall behind the boys. Your eyes went wide and a small gasp fell from your lips as dark shadows of wings displayed themselves on the pews of the church. 

All three boys had different shapes, different places that had holes but you could clearly see them. Just as quickly as they appeared, they quickly disappeared the moment another cloud passed over the moon. You looked up at them, breathless from the stunning sight.

“They’re beautiful.” You whispered.

The three boys smiled at your statement, quickly making their way back over to you. They reached their spots, finding a way to touch you once more. 

“They are nothing compared to what they used to be. But it means so much to hear you say that.” Yeosang softly told you. 

You felt at home. Safe in their arms and caressing touches. You had nothing to worry about now that you knew the truth. Nothing to hide from. And no parents to think about anymore. You were your own person–much more powerful than they could ever be. There was no reason to be scared of them anymore. You were someone who found their heaven. 

“What about heaven?” You asked suddenly, remembering your old home. 

“We don’t need it so long as we are together.” San kissed your knuckles. “You are the last piece of our puzzle.”

“Welcome to our heaven, my love.” Hongjoong kissed you then.

Permanent Taglist: @hecateslittlewitchling , @ldysmfrst , @rln-byg , @vampcharxter , @angieskzzzz , @puppyminnnie , @smilingtokki

[writethrough]

if you are taking billy hargrove requests can you do a billy x reader, where the reader has had a really bad day because people have been mean or like someones being sexist and then when they get home billy cheers them up.If not that's fine love you u <3

Still A Thing

(Billy Hargrove x Female Reader)

Warnings: Language, suggestive situation, Tommy being a dick

Word Count: 783

A/N: While technically my requests are still closed, I'm really glad you sent this in! I feel like I'm headed into a rut, but this helped get some creative juices flowing, so thank you!

I hope it's okay how I interpreted your request, and I hope you enjoy!

Billy looked away from the TV when the front door slammed, and you stormed right past him.

His brow furrowed. You didn’t get pissed often, but when you did, it was usually because of someone else’s ignorance.

It was a miracle you put up with Billy for all these years. You had told him trying went a long way with you. And he’d be damned if he stopped.

You’d already rid yourself of your jeans when he reached your bedroom.

“What happened?” Billy asked, leaning against the doorway.

You had your shirt halfway off when it got too tight, and you had to shimmy it the rest of the way. And with a frustrated huff, you whipped it onto the floor.

“Ran into Tommy 'Dickhead' Hagan.” You opened the drawer Billy was using and grabbed one of his shirts. “Haven’t been in Hawkins two fucking minutes, and I see the guy I wanna deck the most.”

You hadn’t noticed Billy walking toward you until he grabbed both of your hands, putting one on the back of his neck and the other on his belt loop. You automatically started playing with his curls and rubbing the denim between your fingers.

“What happened?” he asked again, much gentler, eyes patient.

You inhaled deeply, trying to keep yourself from losing it.

“Said he was surprised you and I were ‘still a thing.’ That he ‘figured you’d drop my ass after you got some ass.’” You really wished you were the type of person that would bitchslap an asshole.

To his credit, Billy didn’t react besides squeezing your shoulders. He was waiting for you to finish.

“And what did you say?”

You bit your lip, your words finally coming to you after your mind had gone fuzzy at Tommy’s comment.

“Told him a twenty-six-year-old should grow up and stop inviting high schoolers to keggers. And to stop having keggers,” you said.

Billy threw his head back with laughter, and you joined him, stepping forward so you could lean your forehead on his chest.

“You should’ve seen the look on his face when I said, ‘Hope you have the day you deserve.’” Your giggling only increased when Billy wrapped his arms around you and lifted you to the bed.

“Was he smart enough to get what you were saying?” Billy leaned over you, one arm supporting him over your head.

“Must be, ‘cause I thought I saw steam coming out his ears as I left,” you said, cupping his neck and running your thumb along his jaw.

He nudged your nose with his. “Good. Jackass deserved it.” He pulled back slightly so he could look you in the eyes. “M’proud of you. Standing up for yourself. Know it’s hard sometimes.”

You gave him a small smile. “Was standing up for you, too. You don’t deserve to be spoken about like that. Not after all the work you’ve done. All the ways you’ve grown.”

Your hand moved to caress his cheek, and he kissed your palm.

“Couldn’t have done it without you,” he mumbled, leaning into your touch.

“Couldn’t have stood up to Tommy without you,” you said.

Billy smiled. “Guess we’re pretty good for each other.”

“We’re great for each other.”

He hummed and situated himself so he laid on top of you, face buried in the crook of your neck.

“Remember, we’re meeting everyone at Steve’s in two hours,” you said, drawing patterns on his back.

His grin pressed into your throat. “What are we gonna do with two hours?”

You rolled your eyes, a fond smile growing. “Less than two hours.”

He pulled back to look at you. “We’re the guests of honor. Just tell them we got in later than expected.”

You raised a brow at him. “After what happened at the store? I’m sure the whole town knows we’re here by now.”

He huffed, pushing his face back where it was, and mumbled, “Fucking Hawkins.”

You giggled and kissed his forehead, feeling him smile even though he wanted to pout.

“How about a half hour of this, then we get ready?” you asked.

He hummed. “We’ll see. Might take a nap.”

“A half-hour nap.”

He placed a finger on your lips. “Shh, I’m napping.”

You bit his finger lightly, and he scraped his teeth along your neck.

Your breath hitched, and he chuckled.

“Maybe I can do something else in that half hour,” he mused, kissing your jaw.

You let out a content sigh as he continued his path until he reached your lips.

Part of him hoped you would both run into Tommy again after this weekend. Billy would gladly show him how together you were once that ring was on your finger.

Taglist: @moonlightfountain, @steph-speaks, @bookshelf-dust

If you’d like to be added to any taglists, please comment or message me with the character you’d like updates on.

[madameminor]

Fox Fire - Commander Fox x f!reader - Chapter 1

Summary: In an effort to forget your on-again-off-again, you head out with your friends - and they're determined for you to meet one Commander Fox. After all, the quickest way to get over someone is to get under someone else.

Commander Fox x f!reader

Tags: Smutty mcsmutterson. 18+. NSFW. "Basically, all the good stuff."

Warnings: Nothing this round. Just build up.

Notes: Ok hi! Dunno why I wanted to do this, but I did. I'm excited for the story. Post-war, everyone's ok, that sort of thing. Thank you so much to @dumfanting and @rains-on-kamino for beta-ing and keeping my creative juices flowing. I've tagged all the people on my IMWTO list, JIC you're interested in following this story too. If you are, comment. If you don't, I'll remove you for next chapter. Thank yoooou. Let's get this party started!

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

You have to hand it to Chrisa. If her significant other didn’t work here, you would never have thought of coming to the Clone Bar for your night out - but it is PERFECT for what you need.

All the clones made it easy to clock strangers.

The entire vibe of the place is all about coming in and forgetting the world outside.

None of your or Marco’s mutuals would EVER just happen to be here.

AND

You have a bartender on your side, so if anyone gets too handsy or in your face - insta-boot.

The anger from earlier has simmered into resolve, and any excess is going to be worked out on the dance floor. You’d had enough to drink before coming out to loosen you up, but not to spiral you down. You. Look. FAN-TASTIC. Nothing pumps you up like looking your absolute best - and knowing it.

Damn right. It was time to have some fucking fun.

Your gaggle stride up to the front doors, Chrisa flashing the front doorman a smile and a kiss on the cheek before sliding on in. The thick togruta grins as he waves you all in, the lively music thrumming up through your shoes. OOooooo YES! Here we GO!

Lights, bass, people, ALL of it. You’ve missed it. Your spirits lift at the beautiful sight of fun.

Chrisa leads you past the first few bars, piled up with people, making her way towards a third bar closer to the back. You all follow, chatting away excitedly and looking out over the writhing sea of people. Your smile is genuine. You missed this. You missed them. 

“Baaaaaabyyyyy!” your friend croons, leaning over the somewhat busy bar to kiss the bartender. The rest of you sidle up to the 3 empty seats between two groups of clones, offering your hellos.

“Well, look at this attractive group coming up to my bar,” the bartender, Ceese, says with a grin. Their eyes land on you. “Heard we’re celebrating tonight,” they say with a wink. “So let’s get you all started off on the right foot.”

Your girls cheer and you grin as Ceese sets out 6 double shots, filling them to the brim with your favorite alcohol. You laugh as each of your friends and Ceese all take a shot glass, gathering in close around you. 

“To taking out ta poodoo!” Lehla toasts, holding out her shot.

“KRIFF TA POODOO!” Five clinks as you all cheers and down your shots. The liquid comfort slithers through your body, and you breathe a bit easier. THIS is fun. You’re safe here. You slink your arms around Freen and Sizie and hug them close. They smile and hold you tight while Ceese pours out your drinks.

“There you are, drinks are up, get out there!”

You all cheer and grab your drinks, Chrisa leaning up to kiss them thanks for all of you as your crew saunters off to the dance floor. 

Lehla dives right into the center, turning to all of you, and, holding up her drink, proclaims with the gravity of a general headed into battle “Behbies, lets DANCE!!”

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Pulsing, beating, swaying, living. You laugh and twirl and thoroughly lose yourself in the pleasure of being out with your friends. This was amazing. This was life as it ought to be. 

Only exhaustion and the need for another drink eventually pulls you off the floor, plunking you and your friends down into an open booth.

“More drinks, more drinks!” Sizie chants.

“Oh gods I can’t MOVE,” Freen whines as she leans back. She makes begging eyes at Lehla. Well, the Rodian equivalent. “Lehlaaaaa…”

Lehla good naturedly rolls her eyes. “ALright, alright. Chrisa, that's you and me. Lets go get the goods.” 

Chrisa laughs and loops arms with hers, the two heading back to the bar.

You fan yourself, glancing over your two friends as they gab away with each other, taking a second to get your bearings. The anger is burning off now, leaving just the sadness, the hurt… but its nice to remember everything you gain by… well, by things changing. Change is good. You take a deep breath, letting the comfort settle back in.

“Why do they keep looking over here?” Sizie’s voice cuts through, curious.

You look over towards the bar and see Chrisa and Lehla chatting with Ceese and a few troopers - commanders by their pauldrons. Of course Chrisa knew the regulars, probably catching up. And, uh, they all keep looking over. At you. Specifically at you.

Uh oh. “Oh Mother, what are they up to…”

Freen laughs. “Knowing them, something AMAZING.”

Chrisa and Lehla hurry over, both with a mysterious glint in their eye. Chrisa plops down next to you while Lehla leans in with a smirk, hand on the table.

“Soooooo,” Chris says with a sly grin, “do you think that clones are attractive?”

You side-eye her suspiciously. “Why?”

“Weeeeell,” Chrisa tilts her head to the side, letting you see past her, “one of my ‘friends’ over there happens to be Commander Fox of the Coruscant Guard.”

Your stomach tightens with regret.

You sigh, your forehead in your hand. “Chris, you know I don’t-”

She waves her hand at you. “-get on with law enforcement, I know I know. BUT,” she grins, holding a finger up to halt interruptions, “that’s long term. Fox is usually super busy, so he doesn’t really have much time for women in his life. Like, EVER.” She smirks with a small eye roll. “His team almost has to blackmail him to go out with them and relax - and that almost NEVER involves a woman. But that doesn't mean he hasn’t had off-ers,” she says in a sing-song voice. The others giggle as they glance off towards where the Commander sits.

Chris continues. “SO. It wouldn’t be for long- a fling, a jaunt, a roll in the hay, something cas-u-al-and-FUN!” She emphasizes each syllable to get her point across. “You need this. Something different to show you that you can actually be HAPPY in bed, with someone who actually CARES.” 

You raise an eyebrow. “How the heck do you know he ‘cares’?”

She grins again. “I’ve known him for a loooong time. And on the rare occasion that he’s drunk enough to loosen up and actually go home with someone, they ALWAYS come in again talking about how GOOD he is.”

You blink in surprise, and a little shock. “People talk about that?

She shrugs good-naturedly. “Bunker bunnies do. No judgement, they just like to try ‘all the clone flavors’.” She winks. “And I love to hear the gos about the regulars.”

You smirk as the others laugh. Trust Chrisa to be the bar gossip gatherer.

“So, what, you want me to hope he gets drunk, present myself to him and say ‘hi, my ex is an ass and I broke up with him today. Wanna fuck?’”

“Oh NO,” Chrisa pulls a face, “I wouldn’t suggest it if it was that impersonal. See, apparently…” she leans her cheek on one hand, grin glistening with mischief. “He’s been looking over at you all night.”

You blink. You try to sneak a look over to the bar to try and catch a glimpse of this Commander Fox. Two of the red and white clad clones start waving and pointing excitedly between them at the seated one beside them, facing away with what looks like his forehead in his hand. You’re sad you can’t see his face, but you can’t help but smile to yourself. You kind of know how he feels.

“And he’s… cute?” You say hesitantly.

Chrisa perks up and grins. “Oh YEAH. I’ve definitely glanced at him a time or two, don’t tell Ceese.”

“And… safe?” 

“YES,” Chris almost huffs a whine in exasperation. “Who do you think I am??”

Well…

It’s not what you normally do…

…but you ARE trying to do things differently this time…

Just one conversation? You didn’t even have to say yes…

He could be cute…

You look around at your friends' faces. Are any of them unsure about this? Would any advise you that this wasn’t a good idea?

Nope. All of their eyes are excited, almost pleading.

“...ok. I’ll at least talk to him.”

You friends all burst out with a “YES!” You smirk and shake your head. Jeez, you didn’t think you needed it THAT bad.

Chrisa stands and gives a thumbs up to the two clones waiting at the bar. They both pump fists in the air before leaning down to talk to the hunched Commander- who simply punches one of them in the arm without looking over at him. You laugh to yourself. Yeah, you definitely know THAT feeling. The poor guy.

Whatever they say to him, it apparently seems to work. He begrudgingly turns around on his stool and stands, grabbing his helmet. One of his men claps him on the shoulder, which he pushes off angrily before taking a deep breath, turning, and starting his way over to where you and your friends sit. 

You feel your breath catch a bit in your chest, something your girls notice with a smirk. He’s GORGEOUS. His hair isn’t standard clone cut - its a bit longer on top and down the back, the sides cropped short. You can see whisps of gray at the side of his temples, almost looking like highlights, making him seem more mature. He has a scar across one cheekbone adding to an authoritative air - but not oppressive or dismissive. His eyes are a beautiful amber brown, serious, but not cynical. And, you notice with a small smile, right now he looks just a little bit… sheepish. 

A man like this has been watching you? A trooper who doesn’t normally take girls home had seen you and not been able to disguise it from his overeager companions? You feel yourself preen internally as he finishes making his way over. 

“Commander Fox, meet the rest of my besties - Freen (she waves), Sizie (a nod and smile), and of course, The-woman-you’ve-been-staring-at-all-night.”

He glances at her with annoyance as your friends laugh. You extend a hand out to shake his hand with your introduction.

“Its… very nice to meet you.” He nods, resigning to the awkwardness of being caught.

“Well, we’ll get out of your hair so you two can get acquainted,” Chrisa simpers. You give her a ‘stop that’ look as she and the girls all file out with winks and excited grins. Sizie even seems to shake little pom poms, mouthing “go, girl, go!”

You play a bit with one earring as you look back at him.

“Sorry about them,” you smile. “Teasing is their love language.”

He snorts with a glance back at them, relaxing a bit. “I know the feeling.”

You chuckle despite yourself. He seems to relax a bit, a smirk playing on his authoritative features.

“Would you care to step into my office, Mr. Fox?” 

He chuckles this time, giving you a quick appreciative glance before sitting down across from you, placing his helmet by his side.

“Excuse me.” A service droid waddles up with two drinks - one your usual, the other looks like a whisky neat for him. You look at it, confused, while it sets them on the table.

“Compliments of the bartender, with the accompanying message-” says the matter of fact tinny voice. “‘-Make out already-’.”  You look up to the crowd of onlookers from the bar giving you both a thumbs up. 

You show them a different finger. 

They all burst out laughing, but get the hint and go back to each other.

You turn back, catching an impressed smirk while he gazes at you.

“You sure showed them.”

 You chuckle while you take a sip of your drink.

“So,” you smile, “come here often?”

He snorts an appreciative chuckle before shaking his head and indicating the two Corries at the bar. “Enough. Though not as much as my men would like.”

You chuckle, glancing over at the excited huddle. “I didn’t know the men of the Coruscant guard were so invested in their Commander’s R&R.”

A sigh and an eye roll, another sip of his drink. “Apparently getting away from work is ‘necessary’ for a healthy, ungrumpy lifestyle.” You nod sagely, indicating you see the sarcasm. “Just my luck to have the subordinates that actually care about my work-life balance.”

“Luck seldom has anything to do with things like that,” you smile, leaning your cheek on your hand. You know what garners unerring loyalty and hard work. You know the kind of leader it takes to make men march into danger- just to drag that S.O. to the bar afterwards - the kind who men take care of, because he took care of his men. “You must be a great commander if they worry about you so much.” And smart, and firm, but kind under it all, and… hoo, slow down honey. 

For some reason, looking at him, knowing what it takes to be a leader, to be someone who watches out for others, you feel compelled to say something you’ve never said before.

“Thank you. For your service.”

His head quirks to the side, eyes interested as they take you in. “I can’t really take much credit for that… it wasn’t entirely my choice, you know.”

You chuckle. “Perhaps not. But I’ve heard of clones who have sought other lives now that the war is over and your rights have been won - can’t blame them at all. I understand not wanting to do what you’re ‘born for’.” You unconsciously watch the bubbles in your drink for a moment before realizing your thoughts are straying, looking back into his intrigued eyes. “So you did have a choice. And you chose to help the people of Coruscant.” You smile, and shrug.  “So, for whatever it's worth, thank you.”

“Hm.” He smiles thoughtfully, regarding you for a moment while he takes a sip of his drink. “Actually, coming from you, it means a lot more,” his eyes take you in again, admiring, intrigued, inviting.

It sends a happy warmth through your insides.

He sets his drink down again, folding his arms and leaning in on his elbows. “So. Born for, huh? Tell me, what were you ‘born for’?”

You smirk, waving a hand in dismissal. Definitely a cop. “Nothing that I’m doing. But I’m an event planner.” You shrug, knowing it doesn’t sound like much to someone who regularly risks their life.

“Hm,” he answers, intrigued. Like actually intrigued. “Can’t say I’ve ever met someone in that field before. What’s your favorite part of the job?”

Hm. You can’t help your smile. No one ever really cares to hear about this part. “Well,” you think, having a genuine look at your chosen profession, “I meet a fair amount of different, interesting people. I'm more active and involved than other jobs, I get to create something, after a fashion, get to create beauty and harmony for people to celebrate or commemorate something.” And you do it well, you know you do. You’re proud of the work you do. “Its satisfying. Like I’m doing good in my own way.”

He smiles at that. 

“‘Interesting people’, huh? Have any good stories?”

“Hah,” you chuckle. “Oh do I.” You perk up, leaning in conspiratorially. “And in your line of work, you probably know some of the main antagonists.” 

His eyes definitely light up with interest. 

Pulling no punches, you dive into tales about Senators, big wigs, their staff, their relatives, the drama before, during, and after. His laughter is all the more hearty knowing who you're talking about. He even thanks you once for making him laugh so hard he cries about a particular Senator from Naboo and a Jedi getting told off for inappropriate use of an ice sculpture.

Knowing you know the main players, he pays you back 10 fold with his own stories- ridiculous requests, entitled children put in their place, the shenanigans his men pull when they think he isn't aware. You swap stories back and forth, relaxing in each others company, unwittingly moving closer together.

He’s nice, you keep thinking. He’s cute. He’s serious, but can laugh. You wonder… what he’s like when he’s alone, in the dark, laying in his own bed...

You only realize how long its been when you take a sip of your drink only to find the cold, watery dregs of melted ice. As you glance into your glass, with a small curse, you hear him say quietly, almost like he’s talking to himself:

“How anyone could do something stupid enough to lose a woman like you is beyond me.” He says quietly, almost to himself. You duck your head, a bit bashful, but keep your eyes up. So he’s feeling it too. He still wants you. He… he likes you. 

Maybe its knowing that, or maybe its the drinks. Or both. But suddenly you feel… sexier.

You look up at him through your eye lashes. 

“Is it alright if I… get more comfortable?”

His eyes spark with excitement and intrigue. “Of course,” he says quietly.

You close the small distance and slide into his lap, your back to the (you are totally sure) excited onlookers. 

You feel your heart pounding at the closeness, skin electric at your own daring.

“Is this alright?”

“Yes.” His voice is much deeper than it was. “More than alright.”

“Good,” you smile, one hand tracing behind his neck, lightly trailing through his curls. He gently places his hand on your leg, his coarse gloves ticking along your thigh, bewitched eyes starting to turn ravenous. 

‘You are absolutely stunning,” he breathes, voice low and serious.

You smile bashfully. “Thank you, its true.”

He lifts his hand and cups your neck, thumb tracing the length of your throat.

“I definitely, definitely want to kiss you right now.”

You place a finger against his lips. He smirks, slowly opening his mouth to lightly bite your fingertip. You breath catches at the small, sensual gesture. His eyes darken at the sound, his teeth releasing you.

“Kriff, mesh’la. I’m going to take such good care of you tonight.”

He kisses you. 

It's like a fire has started in your blood, burning away anything that isn’t this moment right here. You want him. You want him so badly, with his locks between your fingers and his teeth on your throat and his cock in your-

And you can. Because there is absolutely nothing holding you back.

You pull away just enough that your words ghost against his lips. “Do you want to get out of here… Commander?

His kiss is more insistent this time, ending with a small bite pulling your lower lip.

“More than anything.”

You slide off of him before taking him by the hand. He barely looks away from you as he grabs his helmet and dutifully follows you out of the club.

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

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[prolix-yuy]

Writers' Iron Chef #13: Lovesick

[PROMPT] Patching up a wound

[ADDITIONAL PROMPT] “Why would you put yourself through something like that?”

[TIME LIMIT] Optional, 10 minutes prep. time 30 minutes writing time Optional, 10 minutes editing time

Pairing: Joel Miller x GN!Reader

Rating: M, descriptions of wound care and blood, allusions to dubcon due to drinking and drug use. While this story is not explicit, my blog and the content shared on it is 18+ so MINORS DNI.

Summary: You've been greedy for Joel for too long.

Notes: Written for Writers’ Iron Chef Prompt 13

I've had a Joel story idea bouncing around in my head for several months now, but it's not much more than disconnected scenes and a vibe, you know? I decided to try and exorcise a part with this prompt. This was imspired by a scene in the movie Foe with Saoirse Ronan and Paul Mescal (which was excellent, btw) that got the creative juices flowing.

Thanks to @writersironchef for always giving the best prompts!

The blood that runs into the sink isn’t yours, but it is Joel Miller’s and that’s hardly better.

Laying the needle and scissors beside the sink, you dry your hands on a towel that doesn’t make you feel much cleaner. There’s probably still blood under your nails, half moons of frenzied memories you can look back on when you’re in bed tonight.

“Joel, what the fuck?”

“I need…”

He didn’t have to say much more, and your stomach sours for it. Joel could say he needed you to balance on the edge of a razor and you’d do it just for the fact that he needed you. Pitiful, lovesick, desperate you.

He’d shredded his back coming back into the QZ scrambling away from patrol lights. Tess split off from him, trades to be made and deals best done without her loyal attack dog. So he’d stumbled back to his apartment, stopping just long enough to knock at yours across the hall.

“Jesus Christ, how did you fuck yourself up this badly?”

“FEDRA’s patrolling our usual spots, think they’re onto us…fuck!”

You salved his wounds with apologies as you cleaned grit from long scrapes and worried at the beads of blood that melted across your fingers. The worst was a gash you had to close, infection too present a worry. Hardening your gut, you tried to disassociate how much like sewing leather it felt. Joel bit down on his belt and stuffed his face in a pillow, but fists still slammed on walls around you at his ruckus. 

“I’m done, I’m done, it’s finished.”

“Jesus ‘n Mary, there ain’t much left for you to piece back together at this rate.”

Walking back to the bed, he’s disheveled but alive. He asks for booze, which you find in a high cabinet. He asks for pills, reluctantly revealed to live in a false drawer bottom. You don’t have to say he can trust you with these secrets. Vices were too expensive for you most days. Once he downs both he lays back, injury padded with the cleanest cloths you could find. His breathing hitches, pants in pain, then slows as the drugs and drink take effect. 

And then it’s just you, sitting next to your neighbor as his body releases. 

You should go. Tess would be back any time now and you didn’t want her to see your longing. There are whispers about if Joel is hers, and while you know they belong to each other in a way drenched in darkness, you’ve never been sure if the claim is on their hearts as well. It’s just vague enough of a partnership that when Joel has a good day and shares an extra ration card, your heart flutters. 

But it’s too dangerous. He’s too dangerous, the both of them. You can’t get mixed up in whatever they have going on. Why would you put yourself through something like that?

It’s not the first time he’s come home bloodied, and not the first time you’ve pulled him back together. There’s trust there, but also foolish hope that life could march on and a man could desire you again. Maybe even care for you enough to break teeth and bones. 

A brush against your arm turns you back to Joel, eyes half-lidded but trained hazily on you. One large hand skims over your shoulder, down your arm and lands heavily in your lap. 

“Joel?” you ask, looking down at his thick fingers splayed across your thighs. He hums, low and rumbly as his lips part. 

He’s surely too far gone to know you’re even here. It would be best to slip out unnoticed, talk to Tess tomorrow about checking his injury for infection. 

But you don’t. You’re frozen as the calloused skin of his thumb catches on the worn fibers of your jeans. It’s a caress you haven’t known for years. 

He doesn’t know it’s you.

“Joel,” you say again, and enough courage bolsters you to slide your hand into his palm, the other circling his wrist. He’s so warm, thick-skinned against your fingers. You start to lift from the bed, intending to place his hand where you sat, when it makes a drunken path to cup your chin. Pressure against your jaw turns your face to him spread out on the bed beside you. His chest is bare, light perspiration beading along the cut of his collarbone. He licks his lips slowly, the slip of tongue drawing an ache up from the deepest well. 

“Hey there,” he drawls, and god, you could shatter from it. Tears build in your eyes but you can’t move, his hands drawing you down to him. 

“Joel, it’s…I’m not…” you choke out. It’s a final defense. He’ll hate you tomorrow, but you’ll have said something. His lip quirks, not quite a smile. 

“I know,” he husks before leading your lips to meet his.

You’re not sure he does, but you’re too greedy to say more.

END

[gentlebeardsbarngrill]

05/03/2024 Daily OFMD Recap

TLDR; Rhys Darby; Taika Waititi; Samba Schutt; Nathan Foad; Erroll Shand; AdoptOurCrew Convention Guide; Our Flag Makes A Difference; Fan Spotlight; MerMay; Love Notes; Daily Darby/Tonight's Taika

== Cast & Crew Sightings ==

= Rhys Darby =

Samba did some great impressions of Rhys in his video below, but as much as we love those impressions sometimes there's no replacement for the real thing! So here's some Darby for you today!

Img Src: Samba's Instagram

But wait-- there's more! New Cryptid Factor Episode! Check it out here on Spotify.

= Taika Waititi =

A quick additional photo from the shoot Taika did not too long ago! Photography by @atibaphoto Creative direction by @justinoshea

Img Src: christinecentenara Instagram

In addition, Rita uploaded some quick photos of Taika today from the other TYPEBEA launch at a Sephora in NYC-- they were quickly deleted, so maybe they'll show up later again on her instagram. Thanks to @taikaarchives for catching them!

Img Src: The Taika Archives on Twitter

== Samba Schutte ==

Samba's still raising money for @everymomcounts! You can still get access to his Crew For Life Shirt, as well as his Mother's Day Weekend baking class where he'll be making Rhys' favorite: Rosy Maple Moth Pie! Wanna get it on it? Head on over to: Stands for the shirt/cooking class, or just the cooking class here.

== Erroll Shand ==

Just a quick snapshot with Erroll and his pups <3 Always good to see him pop up on our feeds.

= Nathan Foad =

Nathan's always gotta look cute for the camera doesn't he?

Img Src: Nathan Foad's IG

== Adopt Our Crew ==

Our friends over at Adopt Our Crew have created a Convention Calendar for 2024! First up is Basingstoke Comic Con May 10-12! Remember to tag them on IG and Twitter if you want to share pics, videos, etc!

Source: @adoptourcrew Twitter

== Our Flag Makes A Difference ==

Some of our lovely crew over at Our Flag Makes A Difference have started a new fundraiser, this time for the student protesters across the country who have been wrongfully arrested. If this is a cause you're interested in / have the capacity to hhelp out with, feel free to visit the GiveButter page. They're already at $1245 of their $10000 Goal.

== Articles ==

== Fan Spotlight ==

= Cast Cards =

@melvisik's Cast Cards tonight is for James Barrington! One of the English Soliders that deserved to get slapped by Roach!

Src: @melvisik's Twitter

== OFMD Colouring Pages ==

More title cards from @patchworkpiratebear! Have some free time and need something to relax to? Pull out some crayons or art supplies and get those creative juices flowing!

= Stede & Ed (Calvin & Hobbes Redraw) =

More Stede & Ed comics by our magnificant @blakbonnet! She's given us so many adorable Calvin & Hobbes Redraws! Thank you Meow for giving us something silly and fun to look forward to in these crazy days. Please head over to her blog and send her some love <3

== MerMay ==

= Day 3: "A curse is a curse" =

= @blueberreads =

It's an older model-- but it checks out! Our kind and creative crewmate @blueberreads submitted a gif they made previously for today's MerMay! I'm not complaining! More cursed suit please!

= @snejpowa =

Our glorious and generous crewmate @snejpowa has been participating in the SaveOFMD Crew's MerMay as well! Check out some of their submissions below!

== Love Notes ==

Hey Lovelies, it's been another very long day-- but we made it! We made it to the end of the week! Tomorrow is Saturday (it already is for some of you) so please oh please take some time to relax and get outside for a few minutes if you can.

I am fading fast, but I wanted to still send some love, so here's some notes from some other folks. Love you crew, take care of yourselves and do whatever you need to do to unwind this weekend (cry, draw, write, scream into the void, go outside for a walk, whatever you need).

Stay soft lovelies <3

Art below by @thelatestkate

== Daily Darby / Tonight's Taika ==

This weekend we're going to be watching WWDITS 2014 + Rhys' episode of Wellington Paranormal, and Love birds on the RhysDarbyFaction server, so those movies are the theme tonight! Wanna join us? They start at 1 pm MT / 12 pm PT / 3 pm ET each day.

Tonight's gifs are courtesy of @ deliciousnecks and @ fandomsmeantheworldtome

[even-disco-baby]

CINDY THE SKULL — “Evening, officers. It’s a bit late to be skulking about, don’t you think?” Though she’s lounging around the coal room door as languidly as ever, her pale eyes ringed with coal dust seem to bore a hole in your skull.

YOU — “I’m looking for a place to sleep.”

CINDY THE SKULL — She lifts an eyebrow at you and Kim. “Did the cafeteria man finally decide he wasn’t interested in keeping a pigsty?”

YOU — “No, Kim is still staying there. I just can’t pay my bill.”

KIM KITSURAGI — The lieutenant clears his throat slightly. “Let’s not give people the impression that officers of the RCM make a habit of dodging their tabs, detective.”

CINDY THE SKULL — She glances at Kim, lips pursing just slightly.

EMPATHY — His little comment irritated her. Curious.

CINDY THE SKULL — “Tough luck, officer.” She shrugs, the faux fur collar of her coat brushing her cheeks. “There’s a perfectly good garbage bin in the courtyard. It’s got a lovely view. Real prime real estate.”

YOU — “I know. Garte said I could sleep there, but I’d rather find somewhere else.”

CINDY THE SKULL — She blinks her coal-smeared eyes at you. Then, she turns to the lieutenant. “Is he joking?”

KIM KITSURAGI — “No,” he says drily. “He is not. If you know of any… more *comfortable* places to sleep, we would be much obliged.”

CINDY THE SKULL — She stares openly at the two of you, as if in disbelief.

COMPOSURE — The absurdity of your plight has nearly broken right through her veneer of youthful detachment.

CINDY THE SKULL — “Maybe I’m the one who should be a detective. I can solve your little case for you right now.” She points to the lieutenant. “Your room.”

KIM KITSURAGI — His face is solid stone. “No.”

ESPIRIT DE CORPS — There are so many reasons why he does *not* want to do that. He has neither the time nor any desire to share them with Cindy. Or with you, for that matter.

-1 MORALE

CINDY THE SKULL — She whistles softly. “Damn. Must be true what they say about pigs and cannibalism.”

KIM KITSURAGI — The lieutenant does not rise to her bait.

EMPATHY — But there is something playing at the downturned corners of his mouth and the furrow of his brow. Something like guilt.

YOU — “What about the coal room, Cindy?”

CINDY THE SKULL — She outright laughs at you. “Fuck no! You want in my room, get a warrant, piggo!”

LOGIC — While drug possession is not a crime in Revachol, it doesn’t stop most cops from confiscating substances from vulnerable civilians for their own personal use. Including yourself, most likely.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY — Hey, good idea! Cindy’s an artsy type, she’s probably got all kinds of shit to get her creative juices flowing.

PAIN THRESHOLD — And to get her through the cold and the hunger and the cruelty.

VOLITION — No. Don’t make things any worse than they already are.

YOU — “But then… where do I go?”

CINDY THE SKULL — She shrugs again. “It’s not my problem, is it? Ask your partner, here. Or maybe you should take a hint and go back home to the farm.”

YOU — “I don’t know if I have a home… I think I lost it.”

KIM KITSURAGI — The lieutenant’s frown deepens. He stares down at his boots rather than meet your or Cindy’s eye.

CINDY THE SKULL — A long, almost uncomfortable silence. Her eyes are hardening as they take you in— you and your bloodshot eyes, your slightly labored breathing, your clothes that are certainly too thin to keep you warm tonight.

EMPATHY — She feels sorry for you, and she resents herself for it.

CINDY THE SKULL — She lets out a long sigh, closing her eyes and shaking her head. “All right, piggy. Just quit looking at me all pitiful… You saw the foreclosed apartment in the hall, right? If you wait for the cleaning lady to go to sleep, and you don’t stay long, it’s not a bad place. Better than the trash, anyway.”

REACTION SPEED — She seems to regret it as soon as the words leave her mouth. She’s not thrilled at the idea of trusting your honor not to rat out or even arrest your fellow squatters. But it’s too late now.

SUGGESTION — Wait. Is it really that simple? What if she expects something in return for the information? Or she could be setting a trap for you!

YOU — “Hang on. What’s the catch?”

CINDY THE SKULL — A wry smile breaks out across her face. It almost looks pained. “No catch, officer. I’m no snitch. Nor a pig.”

RHETORIC — You’ve insulted her more deeply than she cares to let on. She helped you because she knows your struggles intimately. Struggles that have claimed the lives of people she cared about. But now you’ve reminded her of the difference between you: she calls you pig because you sold your humanity for the power to strip others of their own.

EMPATHY — She’s sad. She was born sad and she will die sad. You are the one making her sad.

YOU — “Hey, Cindy?”

CINDY THE SKULL — “What?”

“I’m sorry. Thank you for helping me.”

“You shouldn’t judge me. We’re the same. We do what it takes to survive. You have the Skulls, I have the RCM.”

“Can’t we just get along?”

“I’ll pay you back somehow. I’ll make things right.”

“I don’t want to be this kind of animal anymore.”

KIM KITSURAGI — The lieutenant looks up at you, startled. Concerned, even. He almost looks as though he wants to say something, but nothing comes to him. He just stares at you, at a loss.

CINDY THE SKULL — She levels you with a steady gaze. Even without the coal dust, her eyes would look sunken into her wan face. If it weren’t for the roundness still clinging to her cheeks, she would have lost nearly all trace of her youth by now.

“I don’t think you even understand what kind of animal you are,” she says coolly.

ENCYCLOPEDIA — Homo sapien.

CONCEPTUALIZATION — A tiny, violent ape.

AUTHORITY — Predator.

HALF LIGHT — Prey.

VOLITION — You’re a human, Harry. Nothing more or less.

INLAND EMPIRE — The saddest and cruelest animal of them all.