#;second hand embarrassment;; DASH COMM

[madrcams]

" I get the feeling but like... how is it any different from raising chickens and eating chicken eggs simultaneously? "

" ... hm. I kinda wanna try raising a chicken now... they're brutal. "

[izzystizzys]

“ - but have you ever considered, I don’t know, not sucking all the time? Just a thought.”

It takes the combined grips of Nuisance and Hound to keep the wriggling, snarling body beneath Fox from throwing him off its back. With three years’ practice of having to fix his own rickety desk chair over and over again, the movement merely ruffles the proverbial fringe on his helmet.

“And I don’t mean that as an insult, necessarily. Well, I do a little bit. But also I have some amount of empathy for the no doubt immense amounts of trauma that had to go into the creation of something so dysfunctional as you, on a very personal level, so have you considered going to the root of that in a way that’s like… useful? Instead of wasting it all on kriffing Kenobi, I mean. Look at the guy. All he does all day is drink tea and commit warcrimes. I bet he knits for fun. Bit of an embarrassing nemesis, don’t you think?”

“I”, says Kenobi, then pauses. The space between his eyebrows is creased with uncertainty, and he looks deeply torn between continuing rocking the shaking Duchess of Mandalore against his chest from his corner of the throne room and re-activating his lightsaber to continue losing his fight against the Darksider Fox is currently sitting on. “I feel like I should object to some part of that, but I’m not entirely clear on what. Or how this happened, again. Isn’t Mandalore a few star systems from your purview, Commander?”

“Probably the warcrimes”, mutters Nuisance underneath his strained breath.

“About as far from my supposed assignment as yours, General”, says Fox a little louder.

Kenobi twitches. Fox cannot claim to know which of them does it. Both, maybe. Probably.

“I will - taste - your - flesh!”, heaves out Darth Maul, snarling and hissing.

“Oooh, kinky!”, calls Grids, from the corner where she’s got her stun-setting aimed at the other Zabrak, currently passed out cold. Fox sighs deeply. He knew he shouldn’t have taken those three - any combination of Grids, Hound and Nuisance in a room together usually spelled chaos.

Unfortunately, it also spelled competence. The Basic alphabet can be funny that way.

The point being: as of some months into the war, one of Fox’s assigned tasks is the surveillance of all GAR-wide communication. All command-class staff theoretically got that memo, but no one seems to have read the fine print where that includes both professional and personal communication, as well as any and all comm devices registered or suspected to be registered to that person. Especially not one Anakin Skywalker and Padmé Amidala.

The point further being, if that sounds both immensely impractical and sort of terrifying in a democratic supposedly non-surveillance state, you’d be bang on the credits, and to Fox’ eternal chagrin the singular person in this whole useless army who’s spent the second of thinking necessary for that conclusion.

The final point being, when one frantic General’s mad dash across the Galaxy to rescue his teenage sweetheart from the spectre of his supposedly dead nemesis crosses his desk on its way to the Chancellor’s inbox, it doesn’t take much time for him to block any and all trace of it across the digital space of the GAR commboard and take matters into his own hands.

“ - which is why I told Thorn to suck it up and be in charge for a few days, and also why you’re still alive, your Highness, very welcome, was no trouble at all”, he concludes, drily. The Duchess stares the wide-eyed look of someone attempting to reconcile clones with ‘sentience’ or perhaps ‘personality’ in her head, but won’t say it outright.

Or the look of someone who’s just been violently overthrown and nearly murdered, perhaps, Fox allows.

“Um -“, Kenobi hedges, blinking rapidly.

“And the reason you’re still alive, probably. You’re welcome for that too, by the way”, Grids calls from the back of the throne room, cheekily.

“Alright”, says Kenobi, loudly. There’s color back in his deathly-pale cheeks, Fox notes, even if that color is a lot of red. It doesn’t fade very gracefully into his beard. “Opinions on whether or not I had everything under control notwithstanding -“

“You really didn’t”, Hound supplies helpfully.

“ - opinions notwithstanding, I am admittedly still lost on why you’re now sitting on Darth Maul and attempting to, to - jeer at him, Marshall Commander!”

“We’re not jeering, we’re trying to create a safe space and lay the groundwork for more open communication”, Fox says, primly.

Maul screams into the ground, attempting for the umpteenth time to rear up and visit great violence upon Fox, which admittedly has him rattling in his crosslegged seat atop his back.

Kenobi raises a perfectly plucked eyebrow. “Safe space?”

“He’s restrained and not stabbing anyone, I personally feel much safer than before”, Grids muses. “Watch the teeth though, Hound. Little biter.”

Indeed. Fox’s right greave will have to be replaced posthaste.

“And anyways, the point isn’t to jeer at him, it’s to make clear that he’s focusing his energy in the wrong places and could be doing much better things with his admittedly not-great life”, Fox adds, shifting to cast a pointed look down at Maul. The Sith is panting open-mouthed into the durasteel floor, sharp teeth gnashing wildly as his piercing yellow eyes shine with barely restrained rage. “I’m just saying - aim higher. You aren’t seeing the forest for the Kenobis, Maul. Can I call you Maul?”

“I will feed you your own entrails”, yowls Maul.

“See, that’s exactly what I’m talking about. Right now, I’m an easy target to focus all that built-up rage on, but is killing me really going to help you achieve any of your goals? No! Think about it - when it all comes down to it, who sent you on that mission to Naboo in the first place? Who made sure the Jedi and, by extension, Kenobi would be there to kill you? Who used you as a dejarik piece and then cast you aside the second you outlived your usefulness?”

Beneath him, Maul slowly stills in his struggle, still panting heavily. Hound and Nuisance don’t let it deter them in their vigilance, because they’re damn good vod’e and possess an ounce of common sense.

“And, look, I get it. I could spend the rest of my life punching every civilian who spits on me in the streets and it would even be satisfying. I could hit back the Senators who think of clones as easy targets. Or - I can aim my sights at who’s on top. And I think you know who I mean, because you know as well as I do the same damn man has ruined both our lives.”

Kenobi makes an alarmed noise, and Maul an interested one - not that Fox is going to let him walk out of this place awake. Still, he tilts his head in a way he hopes conveys his helmeted grin successfully to non-vod, as well as the bloodlust behind it. “You’re also welcome for the fact that the Chancellor won’t have heard of your spontaneous resurrection yet, by the way. You’ll retain your element of surprise instead of gambling it away on petty revenge on Kenobi.”

“He cut me in half!”

“He killed my master!”

Fox waves their protests away.

“Also, that’s treason!”, Kenobi adds, sputtering. Fox grins. Kenobi purses his lips, and continues. petulantly, “…do you have any proof?”

“So. Much. Proof”, says Nuisance, dreamily. “Like, do you want it alphabetically or by date?”

Which is when the Duchess, of all people, bursts out into barking, crazed laughter.

“You - you’ve certainly given yourself an edge in that fight, Marshall Commander”, she wheezes, brushing tears from her eyes. Fox raises his eyebrows at her, which she somehow seems to be able to tell, because she gestures at the clunky handle dangling from his belt.

“What, this old thing?” He unclasps the black rectangle from its hook, holding it up in the air. Maul stills strangely beneath him, and Kenobi goes ghostly pale again. Fox is starting to get a bad feeling.

“I took it off Viszla and beat him over the head with it. I figured he’d taken it off a Jedi cadet or something. What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

[zhukzucraft]

Wild Life - Chapter 1

A fan-made Life SMP session project by Zhuk and Schmomo

>Read it on AO3 here<

Scott blinked, eyes adjusting to the sudden change in light. It had been night time in Chromia when he’d been warned by Grian of the impending summoning. Now he was in the bright morning light on a brand new server, surrounded by familiar faces. 

Well, not as familiar as he had been expecting. 

“Are we furries?” he heard Jimmy question, standing a few players down from him. 

Scott felt his ears twitch, a startling sensation in and of itself. His hands moved to the sides of his head, but only found his wavy blue hair. Before he could migrate his touch further, to see if he looked similar to the equally confused gaggle of players around him, Grian grabbed his attention.

Grian clapped his hands, “You all know the gist. Season six, three lives each. Reds are hostile. Three, two, one, bye!”

Scott blinked several more times as his fellow players sprinted in varying directions, screeching chaotically. After a second to process he quickly followed suit, dashing backwards from spawn and into what he soon realized was a Dark Oak Forest. 

Not ideal, he thought to himself, but he was already in the thick of it. He started hacking away at the bark with his bare hand and let his mind wander up to the sky.

Season six, Scott repeated in his head. Six times now he had found himself summoned, chosen by those beings he still did not quite comprehend to participate in a death game amongst some of his closest friends. The details changed but the goal always remained the same: last player standing wins. Wins what? Scott had already won and he still did not know. He’d been given audience with the beings, but they had looked at him with derision more so than any kind of admiration or praise for his victory. It had been hard to concentrate, or think in their presence. He could not even look at them without a piercing pain behind his eyes. 

 Despite knowing this, the drive to win was ever-present. Even if it would all be for naught in the end. He would spend a few blissful months in his empire only to be whisked away with just a quick warning on his comms, to return to the bloodbath. 

He finished punching down the tree, yielding himself quite a bit of wood in the process. He crafted a table and got to work on a simple pickaxe. It was only then while digging through his inventory that he spotted the book. 

He pulled it out, cracking it open to read: 

Welcome to Wild Life! You are a Cat!  … What? Did you expect further explanation? Where’s the fun in that? Good luck!

As he closed the book, he vanished it from his hands and back into his inventory. He frowned. “Why do you always have to be such a menace, Grian,” Scott sighed. 

“That’s not very nice,” Grian said. 

Scott shrieked, one hand moving to clutch at his heart as he whirled around. There, he found Grian, wearing his typical red sweater and already boasting an iron sword in his hand. Atop his messy mop of light brown hair were two fluffy pointed ears. 

“Grian! You scared me!”

Grian laughed, putting his sword away. “Guess that means you’re a scaredy cat.”

Scott rolled his eyes, feeling something behind him flick back and forth. He glanced backwards to find he had a blue-gray tail, long and puffed up from fright. His ears pinned back in embarrassment, and his hand moved up to touch them atop his head to finally examine them. They felt pointed, just like Grian’s, but perhaps larger. 

Right. He’d made a point not to really think about it.

“Did you not notice?” Grian continued, a giggle still coating his words. 

“Of course I noticed,” Scott grumbled, “Jimmy’s comment soured any sort of interest quite quickly.”

Grian snorted. 

“You have no business calling me a scaredy cat when you’re a feline too,” Scott continued. 

“I wish,” Grian sighed, “But pointy ears aside, I’ve been cursed with doghood.” 

“Oh?” Scott blinked, trying to look closer to see if he could figure out the difference. But Grian took a step back. 

“Got to go,” Grian said quickly, “Oh and, watch out for the skeleton behind you,” he added, before darting away through the trees. 

As if on cue, an arrow pierced into Scott’s shoulder, lurching him forward. He twisted around to find the skeleton just one tree down, shaded by the thick canopy of Dark Oak leaves. Scott cursed under his breath, running a few meters away before taking some of his spare planks and towering up above the tree line. He took in a breath, ripping out the arrow with another curse on his lips. 

“You couldn’t have spared me an iron ingot for a shield, Grian!?” Scott shouted out into the air in exaggerated annoyance. He wiped some sweat from his brow before returning to holding his injured shoulder. He needed food. That shot had taken nearly a third of his health away–

He only had nine hearts. 

He blinked, recounting them in his head, but no, instead of the normal ten he only had the outline of nine. For a moment he feared they were playing without regeneration again, but no, the silhouettes of two and a half hearts remained. 

He pursed his lips. This might be a cat thing. He would need to get a feather and ink sac to start jotting down these observations if part of this game was to discover their own abilities. 

He supposed that gave him a place to start. He should keep an eye out for fellow felines to exchange information with while he hunted down some food. He kept to the treetops, hoping between leaves, careful not to fall into any gaps in case he lost even more hearts. How embarrassing would it be to become the first yellow on day one.

Eventually, he found the edge of the forest, where the Dark Oak gave way to a small stretch of grass before easing into water. From his high vantage point he could see it was a large lake. He could just barely see the shadow of the coast on the other side. 

He hopped down carefully, digging along the coast until he found some stone. From there it was simple to craft a set of stone tools and a furnace. He slipped into the cold water and drew out his sword. He managed to swipe at a few cod and was able to return to grass relatively quickly. 

He shivered, shoving some dark oak logs into the furnace and throwing the fish over it. He was so hungry even their raw form made his mouth water. But no, he wasn’t an animal–

Well, maybe he was. As he chewed on his cooked cod, he ventured closer to the lake’s edge to look at himself properly. His large blue gray ears twitched atop his head and his long tail swayed behind him. He curled it, watching, a bit mesmerized, as the appendage moved under his control. In his reflection he saw the shimmer of another player behind him, hopping down from the treetops. 

He waited, pretending not to notice the intruder to see what they were up to. But the man quickly gave way his position by calling out, “Oho! Is that food I smell?”

Scott snorted, turning around lazily to face his visitor. Etho stood right in front of the furnace, poking at the still cooking cod with his iron sword. How did everyone already have iron?

“Can I have a bite?” Etho asked, “I’m starving.”

“Dog or cat?” Scott asked instead, hopping atop his furnace to look down at the taller man. 

“Isn’t it obvious?” Etho raised a brow. His pointed white ears swiveled, and his fluffy white tail swished behind him. 

“I’ve been fooled already,” Scott replied, lifting his hand to push some stray blue strands behind his ears. He failed in his endeavor, his ears no longer there at all. He frowned.  

“I’ll give you a hint,” Etho said, lifting his hand to make a little paw motion by his masked cheek, “Meow.”

Scott laughed, retrieving one of his pieces of cod and tossing it to Etho, who easily caught it. From his own inventory he took out two oak logs, setting them down on the grass. He took a seat on one, and Scott joined him on the other – reluctantly, suddenly missing the cozy warmth of the furnace. 

“Still working with stone, eh?” Etho pointed out. 

Scott huffed, “Well excuse me for being a bit careful and not barreling into the first hole in the ground I find.” 

Etho dug through his inventory, handing him a stack of ten or so iron ingots. Scott’s eyes widened. 

“A bunch of us found an above ground vein,” Etho explained, and even though Scott couldn’t see his mouth he knew he was sporting a cheeky grin, “There’s a mountain on the northside of the map. It was all snatched up within ten minutes I’d say,” Etho laughed. 

“By you?” Scott asked with a raised brow. 

“Not just me,” Etho replied. “Have you met anybody else so far?”

“Just Grian,” Scott said, “He’s a dog.”

“Is he?” Etho blinked, “Looked feline to me. He made out with the most iron, I think. Him and Gem. She’s definitely a cat.”

“Did you see anyone else?’ Scott probed. 

“Bdubs is a dog,” Etho counted out on his fingers, “Cleo is a dog too. Honestly, I think all of my friends are canines.” His ears pinned closer to his head, “They all ran off together pretty quickly.”

Scott placed his chin in his hand, logging the information away. He wondered if it was worth searching out Gem, then. However, they had teamed up just last game, and Scott did his best to switch up his allies as much as he could in these sessions. 

Their pockets lit up and they both brought out their comms to see new messages flashing on their screens. 

Skizzleman > DOGS RULE ImpulseSV > CATS DROOL InTheLittleWood > based Smajor1995 > rude.

Scott put away the comms after he finished typing his response, “Well, I suppose we can assume what those three are.”

Etho sighed, standing up from the log. Scott mirrored him. After all, the sun was past the midpoint and he hadn’t made much progress at all. He really should find himself a cave after he finished crafting a set of tools with the donated iron. Caves were always so dangerous in the early game…

“Seems like the dogs are sticking together,” Scott said casually. His tail flicked as he looked up at Etho, “Perhaps we should form our own feline alliance?”

“Fe-liance,” Etho offered, which made Scott snort. “Sure, but we should probably find a good spot to hunker down. We don’t have much daylight left.”

Scott shoved the rest of his items back into his inventory, giving a quick glance around to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything. With that, he and Etho started walking, following the edge of the lake with the Dark Oak forest to their left. 

“Something’s happening out there,” Etho commented, pointing out toward the lake. 

Scott squinted, making out the vague silhouette of something being built out in the middle of the lake. It was too far to really make out exactly.

“If only we had a spyglass,” Etho sighed, shoving his hands into his pockets as he continued his leisurely pace. 

“I bet they’re in trident range,” Scott replied. Etho laughed. 

“And you’re in my range!” 

Scott looked up, watching as someone shot down from the heavens, spinning in a tight circle as he went. He landed right in front of them, facing the wrong direction. He quickly corrected himself, but even without facing them, Scott would recognize Joel’s vest and linen shirt combo anywhere. Of course, now he was also sporting some brown cat ears and a brown and black striped tail. 

He grinned at them, “360 spin jump from sky limit. Impressive, am I right?”

Scott raised a brow, shifting so he could look past Joel and see that he did have a tower of cobble going up into the sky. “I knew you were a thrill seeker, but that seems more like a death wish to water bucket clutch on day one.”

“Have you learned nothing from me?” Etho added, “At least boat it.”

Joel blinked at them, “...You’re both cats right?”

“Yeah?” Scott started, glancing over at Etho who simply shrugged. 

Joel’s confusion seemed to give way to a manic sort of grin. His tail swayed back and forth and the entire display gave Scott the urge to bristle. Joel could be so infuriatingly smug sometimes. Maybe all the time.

“Joel!” 

Joel turned his head, tail perking up straight, “Over here, Lizzie!”

“You’ve wasted all my cobble!” Lizzie complained, coming into view. She sported a pair of ears folded down slightly on her head, the fur a soft orangey-pink. Her tail was especially fluffy, similar to Etho’s. 

“It was necessary,” Joel brushed off. “Had to make sure you were right.”

“Well, now you owe me for the cobble and the information,” Lizzie huffed, “Give me a bucket.”

“I don’t have a bucket,” Joel snapped back. 

“But I saw an axolotl!” Lizzie whined. Joel sighed, digging through his inventory and throwing three iron ingots into his wife’s arms. 

She squealed, “Okay, thanks, bye forever!”

Joel rolled his eyes, but his smile was soft and fond, so unlike the manic look he’d worn before. 

“That was quite cold of you, Joel,” Scott commented. 

“What?” Joel said, turning back to look at them, “I gave her the iron!”

“You could have just given her your bucket.”

“I don’t have one. Are your new ears not working properly?”

Scott pressed his lips into a thin line. Did Joel think he was an idiot? 

“Joel, do you have a base yet?” Etho asked. 

Joel’s shoulders immediately loosened, looking over at the white cat hybrid, “I’ve carved out a little place inside one of the dark oaks.”

“Cool, we’re moving in,” Etho said.

“Excuse me?” Both Joel and Scott snapped, before glancing at each other. 

“Sun’s setting,” Etho said easily. 

“That’s not my blummin’ problem,” Joel huffed. 

“You’d let your boat boy die out here?” Etho pouted and Joel groaned, but seemed to fold easily enough at the words. 

“But why’s Scott have to come?” Joel asked, even as he started to lead them toward his starter base. 

“We’re in a Fe-liance,” Etho said, “You are too.”

“I don’t think cats work in packs,” Scott couldn’t help but comment. 

“Lions do,” Etho said. 

“That’s a pride, not a pack,” Joel replied.

“Joel’s got a lot of that. Pride and ego,” Scott said. 

Etho snorted, but Joel just shot him a glare, illuminated by the flicker of his torch light. With his back turned, he didn’t see the zombie coming toward him.

Luckily, both Etho and Scott had quick reflexes–with Scott grabbing Joel’s arm to wrench him behind his shield and Etho drawing out his sword to slash at the beast. 

Joel recovered fairly quickly, jumping into the fight with relative ease. They were getting surrounded by mobs now. Scott deflected an arrow with his shield and then slashed at a spider rearing up on him. 

“This way!” Joel called, and Scott stabbed the spider one last time, relishing in its death cry. He had no time to grab the string it dropped, instead turning to race after Joel and Etho, weaving through the thick forest of trees. He almost missed it, but there was a dark oak door on one of the trunks that Joel swung open, urging the two inside before closing and locking it behind them. 

It wasn’t a natural tree trunk, Scott realized immediately. It was much more spacious, hollowed out and with ample room for the three of them to move. It was only one room and it still only had grass for flooring, but it kept the monsters out.

“Only one bed?” Etho asked, looking around. 

“I wasn’t exactly expecting company,” Joel grumbled,  pushing past them to the left side wall where he already had a double chest. He dug through it, taking out some raw chicken and more fish. He started loading up his furnace, and Scott summoned his own to speed up the process. Joel said nothing but did dump the fish in Scott’s hands to deal with. 

“I’ve got one,” Etho assured, placing down a bed right beside Joels’. 

“You found more sheep?” Joel blinked, “I was with Martyn and Jimmy briefly when we found a herd and they obliterated them. It almost seemed like they’d gone red.”

There was a smug crinkle around Etho’s eyes, “I actually hid two away. I’ll bring them here in the morning.”

“Brilliant,” Joel grinned. 

“Are we married to living in this dreary place?” Scott asked, “Such a gloomy color scheme.”

“You can head out the door whenever you want,” Joel snapped. 

“And leave you and Etho to pair up again? That’s been done. I have to stick around now to spice it up.”

“Is that a rule I don’t know about?” Etho asked, “Because I’ve repeated buddies every series.”

“Scott just likes being extra,” Joel said. 

Scott gave a little wink, flicking his hair back and swishing his tail for good measure. Joel grimaced.

While the food cooked, Etho and Scott crafted their own chests, each claiming a corner of their room to organize their things. When they finished, the pair joined Joel to eat. Ehto sat on the bed, Joel leaned against his chest and Scott found himself drawn to perching on the lit furnace once again. 

“Has fish always tasted this good?” Etho asked as he ripped into the salmon. 

“The chicken’s divine as well,” Joel agreed. 

“Perhaps it’s a cat thing,” Scott offered, “Did your books give you any clues?”

“Nah,” Etho said, “These games are never that easy.”

“Heh,” Joel grinned, “So you really don’t know anything do you?”

“You’d keep secrets from the Fe-liance?” Etho gasped. 

“Don’t listen to him,” Scott said, “Joel’s not smart enough to know so much so soon.”

Joel squawked, “I’m plenty smart, Scott! And not only that, I’ve got a wife who lives her imperial life as a cat all blumming day every day.”

Scott’s eyes widened. It was true – Lizzie was the Empress of Animalia back on their home server. Despite her best attempts to hide her feline traits, it was fairly obvious she wasn’t fully human. “We need her on our team.”

Joel’s shoulders slumped, “Scar snatched her up immediately. Maybe he had the same idea, I don’t know. But she refused to link up with me. At least right now.”

“Why the hell would she want to pair with Scar? He’s an accident prone disaster,” Scott groaned. 

“He did win last season,” Etho reminded them. 

“I guess,” Scott conceded, tapping his chin, “And Lizzie did crash and burn back there too. Died before Jimmy and everything.”

“Hey!” Joel snapped, “It was your fault she died in the first place!” He shoved his finger into Scott’s chest. 

Scott easily slapped it away, “My fault? Who was the one sending her to kill me?”

Joel growled, tail slashing back and forth in agitation. 

“Man this cod sure is good,” Ehto interrupted loudly, “Nothin’ like sleeping on a full stomach.” He leaned back, stretching out on the double bed. 

Scott let himself be distracted, slipping off the furnace in favor of crawling into the beds beside Etho. 

“Oi!” Joel started, “Are we really going to cram three of us into two beds?”

“Afraid to cuddle me, Joel?” Scott teased. 

Joel shot him a look, “You’ve brought nothing to the table. You should sleep on the floor.”

“We’ll get a third bed tomorrow,” Etho waved off, “Come on, it’s warmer like this anyway. We’ve fit more people in our bed in Double Life.” 

Joel reddened a little as he grumbled. 

“Oh?” Scott tilted his head, ears perked for any juicy gossip. 

“Bdubs insisted on having a sleepover at least one night,” Etho laughed, “It was all four of us sandwiched between the furnaces in the Relation Ship.”

“And it was terrible, Etho,” Joel scowled, but still climbed into the bed, shoving Scott with more force than necessary to carve himself a space. “I’m pretty sure Impulse ended up on the floor and I burned my hand on the furnace.”

“Our hand,” Etho corrected with a yawn. 

“Even worse,” Joel agreed. He turned onto his side, facing away from both Scott and Etho. Etho chuckled, nuzzling into his pillow. Scott soon realized he’d found himself in the worst spot, sandwiched between them. Perhaps it would be better for him to be on the floor – not that he’d ever admit that fact to Joel. 

“You know, Joel,” Scott tried instead, unable to suppress his grin, “It would make more sense for you to be in the middle, what with you being shorter–”

Joel kicked his leg back, slamming it into Scott, “I swear to the void, Scott! One more word out of you and you’ll be the first damn death message in the chat.”

Scott laughed, even though the kick had him wincing in pain. In fact, he’d taken a tick of damage from it too. So he conceded, keeping quiet and enjoying the little taste of victory in the rise he’d managed to get. He closed his eyes, relishing in the warmth the bodies surrounding him provided. 

Tomorrow he’d dig down and get his full diamond gear. He’d find Lizzie and interrogate her. From there he’d start formulating a real plan for the season and get back on track. 

He was almost asleep when Etho whispered close to his ear, “Should have warned you earlier, Scott.” 

“Hmm?” Scott murmured sleepily. 

“If you’re sleeping so close to Joel, best to keep your neck covered.”

“ETHO!” Joel shrieked. 

Scott laughed, curling up to dodge the pillow being slammed into Etho’s face. 

It was going to be an interesting season. A wild one at that.

[adventures-with-ana]

- Anticipation -

Bucky Barnes x OFC // 488 (Written in 1st person, no character name or description given.) 18+ only, minors dni; A nervous tick just might lead surprising places.

Author's Note: Inspired by this post: x

It shouldn’t be taking this long. Steve and Natasha were supposed to be in and out, a quick mission.

“Nothing could go wrong,” Steve had told me.

What a lying asshole, I thought.

In my nervous waiting I went from repeatedly clicking my pen, to tapping it on the table, to outright banging it on the table while I waited for something; anything. A white flag, a flurry of noise over the dead silent comms, anything at all to tell me that Steve and Nat were okay or needed help.

“Would you stop that?” Bucky snaps, grabbing the pen out of my hand. “How would you feel if I banged you on a table?” he questions.

My eyebrows rise. He didn’t mean that in the way I understood it, and his face proved that as his expression changes from annoyance to ghost white horror. He turns away from me, his cheeks flushing with what I assume to be embarrassment.

“So should I answer that, or…?” I ask with a slight snicker.

“You know what I meant,” Bucky mutters, still not looking at me.

“I mean, it would be one way to pass the time,” I tease.

Bucky’s head snaps towards me so fast I don’t know how he didn’t break his own neck. “Excuse me?”

“I have eyes, Barnes,” I tell him, looking him over to prove my point.

Ever since the day SHIELD recruited me I’d spent my time eyeing up the former Winter Soldier. His power, his strength, his dashing good looks, his gorgeous blue eyes, the way his ass looked perfectly firm in his tactical pants. It was no small wonder how I was ever able to focus on anything when he was around, and every training session I ever had with the man was revisited every night when I was alone in my room.

Bucky blinks at me and once again I found myself wishing I could read minds. I would love to know everything he was thinking. “So does that mean you have a preference of tables?” he asks, his features rearranging themselves into a wicked little smirk that made me feel like I was going to melt into a puddle.

“Yeah,” I reply. “The closest available one.”

Bucky’s eyes darken deliciously as he stands up and steps over to me. “Then get up,” he commands, his tone making my knees weak and my heart pound.

“Make me,” I challenge him.

He wraps his fingers around my biceps and pulls me to my feet. “You always were a brat.”

A smirks toys at the corners of my lips. “You always seemed like a man who could handle it.”

“Maybe I’ll just spank it out of you,” He replies.

He releases my arms, but the second his hands cup my cheeks and his lips are centimeters from mine… the comms crackle to life and Steve’s voice ruins my entire day.

“Asset acquired, heading out.”

[fives-girlfriend]

A/N: New here? Start at First Impressions, part 1!

Lockdown, part 2

Perhaps Asha isn't as much of an outsider with Clone Force 99 as she thinks she is.

Read Part 1

Characters: TBB, OC (Asha Kurr)

Warnings: Minor descriptions of injuries, some mild dissociation, general anxiety. Not much in terms of bad.

Word count: 2,404

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

Asha could hardly recall the rendezvous. Everything was an adrenaline-addled blur; she remembered Echo's voice over comms, informing them that they were in position. She remembered hearing the thudding of footsteps and nearly jerking out her blaster on instinct until she saw Tech and Crosshair coming up the rise. She hardly remembered when Hunter and Wrecker arrived a minute later, smelling of smoke and burnt fuel. The six of them made a mad dash for the ship, and from then, Asha could finally let the ringing in her ears fade. Her entire body was on autopilot as they left planetside; she sat down in one of the crash seats, and from within the cockpit, she could hear Hunter and Echo reconvening while Tech got them all into hyperspace.

"I couldn't get much before the lockdown hit," Echo stated, "nothing that we don't already know. But I think I might've been able to pull a base of operations, a larger outpost than the one we just hit. When I'm able, I'll upload the information to the Commander."

"It's better than nothing," Hunter sighed. "We got what we came for, that's what matters. How's your…?"

"...short," Echo replied with a hollow chuckle. "Emergency removal. It was either this, or take the outlet with us. We didn't have the time to cut through the wall. She can replace it soon enough, there should be spare parts in storage."

Everything fell silent after that, at least to Asha's perspective. She was already putting away her new gear, now smudged with dust and dirt and soot. She felt like she was floating, each motion nearly robotic as she stashed away her gear and ambled her way to find Echo. She still had to help him - check on him, see how he was doing. But before she could even think to reach him, a warm, calloused hand rested on her shoulder, partially yanking her from her daze.

Hunter looked down at her, and Asha could see in his eyes the moment their gazes met just how concerned he was. For a moment, she was puzzled - but it slowly dawned on her as she fully took in where it was that they were. They were in hyperspace now, and had been for at least several minutes. They had left the surface some time ago. She had hardly realized it - it had felt more like seconds. She was suddenly very acutely aware of how hard her heart was pounding, and she actually tried to will it to slow. And as if it were even possible, her crimson face flushed an even darker red in embarrassment and shame, tinting her white facial markings a rosy pink.

"...Asha, relax." Hunter's voice was low and even as he spoke, and Asha took a shaking breath. "It's done. You can breathe now. Echo told me what happened."

That somehow only served to worsen Asha's anxious tension, having been so lost in her own head that she hadn't even heard the conversation barely a room away. What did he tell him? That she nearly fell? That she panicked? That she had mutilated him, that she could hardly think the entire time?

Hunter sighed. He could hear the way her heart thudded even faster, and he moved to stand in front of her, both hands now resting on her shoulders. "You did good. You were caught in a situation neither of you were prepared for, and you adapted. The first field mission is never easy. As far as those go… you did exactly what you were supposed to."

Asha's breath caught, then slowly left her in a quiet exhale. She could see just the scarcest nod from Hunter - breathe. Just breathe. She did good. She did what she was supposed to. She…

"...I… have to go help Echo," Asha muttered, straightening herself up and rolling her shoulder. The knot in the muscle was painfully tense, and no doubt that her shirt was just barely covering a harsh bruise from pulling it so sharply… Hunter gave her a bit of a look, to which Asha could only sigh. "I'll take care of it once Echo and I are done, okay? I'll live. It's just a pulled muscle."

"Just… let us know if we can help," Hunter said softly, giving her a small pat on her uninjured shoulder before dipping away back into the ship proper. Asha smiled for a moment, gentle and fond, before carefully making her way down into storage to find a replacement scomp, no doubt buried under the errant piles of scrap she and Tech had both jointly accumulated.

—

"Echo?" Asha called out as she stepped into the cockpit, a few things in her arms - a replacement scomp, her toolkit, a small twist-jar of bacta gel for bruising. "Got a sec?"

Echo was currently occupying the copilot seat, and when he swiveled around to look at her, he took in all she was holding and actually smiled. "There you are. Come on, let's get to it - I just wanna get this over with, if… that's alright with you."

"Perfectly fine," Asha said softly as she set down everything she had and knelt down in front of him, picking up the scomp and lining it up with its port. "Want me to walk you through it again?"

"...not this time," Echo responded, a bit quieter. "If- if you wouldn't mind. I kind of just want it to be done with."

"Fine by me." Asha didn't argue, and instead set straight to work. "I've done this fix a million times before, okay? I'm gonna deactivate the pros-"

Echo shot her a look, and she quickly shut her mouth. Force of habit, she realized. Wordlessly, Asha deactivated his prosthetic arm, and set to work on reattaching the scomp to its port. It was a silent procedure, at least. Everyone seemed rather tired out from the mission, and decompression was sorely needed. The fix, all in all, took maybe five minutes. The second she was done, Asha reactivated his arm, and sat back on her haunches with a smile. "And there we go. Move your elbow for me?"

Echo did so, going through the motions as he tested out the maneuverability of his arm once again.

"Good. Wanna just, plug into the outlet real quick so we can make sure it works? I've no doubt in my work, of course, it's just a routine diagnostic and-"

"And now you're sounding like Tech," Echo replied with a small smirk, earning a gaping look from Asha that quickly melted into a laugh the second she noticed that the aforementioned pilot had turned to look at them, an incredulous look on his face. Asha was right, though - her work was flawless. When plugged in, his arm was as good as new.

Satisfied, Asha opted to take the now-unoccupied copilot seat, and work on applying the bacta gel she had brought along to her pulled shoulder. However, upon moving to shift her arm out of its sleeve, she hissed in pain and had to stop. Her range of movement was now severely stunted thanks to that strained muscle, and even just getting it out of her shirt to try and heal it was proving problematic. Frustrated and embarrassed, Asha started to stand so she could go somewhere private to try and work it out, but she was stopped when a surprisingly gentle hand settled on her uninjured shoulder.

"Let me help," Echo said softly, as he stepped behind Asha. "Here, lean forward a bit. What do you need?"

His forwardness genuinely shocked her, all things considered. In her mind, she was still more or less just a nuisance to this squad - a very stubborn nuisance, one that was determined to do what she was assigned to do, and make friends while doing it. She felt that her presence was an inconvenience to them at best. But when Echo asked that gentle question - what do you need? - a slight flush came to Asha's face as she glanced over her shoulder.

"...I-I just wanna get my arm out of my sleeve so I can- so I can get this gel on my shoulder. I pulled it when you caught me from falling off the roof back there, heh…" she muttered, rather embarrassed by her vulnerability. A certain look crossed Echo's face, and he lightly shook his head while he moved to start helping her carefully shift her arm out of the confines of her top, a little bit at a time.

"You're never going to stop helping me before taking care of yourself, aren't you? This is the second time already, Asha," he chided her, but nothing in his tone even hinted at the idea of anger. Asha let out an airy chuckle, not looking back at him but instead keeping her gaze forward at the endless expanse of hyperspace outside.

"It's my job to help you, Echo. Simple as that."

"Is that the only reason you're so adamant, then? Just because it's your job?" he asked, adding on a small "Here, hold this for me." as he passed the small jar of gel to Asha for her to hold. Practiced fingers smeared the cool blue substance onto the harsh bruise that was forming on her strained muscle, and her form sagged in relief as the ache began to ease.

"...started out that way," Asha mumbled. "Rex sent me here. He and I worked together before, and I don't take his orders lightly. I was… determined to do right by him. Then I actually started getting to know you guys, and…"

She trailed off as Echo finished applying the medicine, and she went to close the jar again, already starting to feel better thanks to his help. "I realized really quickly that this wasn't just another deployment. I… I hadn't worked with another battalion since I left the 501st, so I was… I-I was keeping things stiff and rigid. I wanted to keep a distance."

"You are remarkably bad at that," Tech suddenly spoke up from the pilot's seat, making Asha jump - she had genuinely forgotten he was there. When he saw the scandalized look on her face, he tilted his head slightly as if confused by her reaction. "I'm only speaking based on my observations. You've shown from the moment you set foot into our barracks that you have a remarkable tendency to get attached to people quickly. Keeping your distance was never an option for you, I figured that much was obvious."

Asha was dumbfounded, and she heard a quick exhale behind her that she knew was a split-second attempt at hiding a laugh. She rolled her eyes and moved to stand up, looking all sorts of playfully annoyed. "You guys are the worst. So what if I wanna actually be your friend now, huh? Would that really be so bad?"

Echo sighed, and he looked over to Asha with a gentle smile. She'd shown him by now what it is she was capable of - how she treated them. This wasn't just another assignment to her, despite how much she cited it as such. "No, Asha… that wouldn't be bad at all."

—

The gunner loft was Asha's sanctuary. Whenever she wanted space, or just a place to be comfortable, this was the spot to do it. That sanctuary wasn't going to last for much longer at the moment though, not as Asha peeked up from her datapad at the first hint of movement out of the corner of her eye. And there Crosshair stood in front of the ladder leading up, his perpetual scowl somehow deepened, body tense, an air of such utter vitriol emanating from him that it made Asha's heart pick up. He didn't even wait for her to speak, cutting her off the moment she opened her mouth.

"I don't know what it is you're playing at, or how you've got everyone fooled," he spat, "but you're going to have to try harder than that."

"Wh- what-?" Asha quickly tried to retort, but Crosshair was as quick on the draw as ever.

"Don't play dumb, mechanic," he continued. "Humor me. Your record showed that you went months without any contact whatsoever from the army. You left your old assignment - not dismissed, left - and went radio silent. What happened between you and the 501st, hm? If you're so adamant about being friendly, why don't you go ahead and tell us what you're hiding-"

“Crosshair!” Hunter’s voice cut the air like a knife, silencing his brother as he quickly stepped forward to put himself between the two. Asha looked genuinely startled, and Crosshair somehow looked even more bitter than before. “That’s enough. What’s gotten into you?”

Crosshair didn’t grace Hunter with a response. Instead, he backed down – not without shooting a glare to both Asha and his brother, before stalking off to head below deck. Hunter didn’t flinch, and Asha let out a low, anxiety-riddled sigh. Hunter was, at this point, entirely used to her heart pounding in fear and worry, and he turned to face her with a calm, but remorseful expression. “...I’m sorry, Asha. He’s… never been one to trust outsiders. He’ll come around eventually.”

“Yeah, I… I’m used to being the odd one out, heh,” Asha replied with a hollow chuckle, setting down her datapad. “Believe me, I’ve gotten way worse than some weird accusations thrown around at me. I… I’ll cope with it.”

“...well, if it means anything to you,” Hunter began, a small smirk drawing up on his lips, “we’re all the odd ones out in this squad. So to me, it seems like you fit right in.”

At that, Asha actually laughed – and Hunter could count it as a win that he got her to smile. With the tension dissipated, eventually Asha was once again left alone – and a certain sort of quiet descended over her as she watched hyperspace swirl by from outside the gunner loft. She was free to let her mind wander, and it kept wandering back to Crosshair’s accusation.

She never wanted to leave the 501st, not really. She traced shapeless patterns on the back of her hand as she stared out the window, and leaned her head back as her eyes eventually slipped closed, lost in thought. At least she still had their memories, she thought.

A few silent tears slipped down her cheeks.

At least she still had their memories together.

[writerpeach]

Initial D'ed

Le Sserrafim Chaewon x Male Reader

5045 words

---

Read on AFF

Read on AO3

My first ever Chaewon smut. Please play your favorite eurobeat song while you indulge.

"They're right behind us."

Police sirens were only an annoyance, like a dog that was all bark and no bite. They did nothing to deter you, and only served as distracting background noise, accompanying flashing red and blue lights that were just a blur in the rear-view mirror. 

The smell of burning rubber permeated the air, with the wind in your face, and beams of sunlight reflecting off the hood. Three pursuit cars chased behind, with more on the way, but there was never a need to worry. It wouldn’t be a problem, not unless you made a mistake—and you never did.  

“I need thirty seconds to disable the tracker.” 

Hands gripped the steering wheel, not even bothering to look back behind you, while a petite woman in the passenger seat fiddled with a small black device underneath the glove box. 

“Then work your magic.” Tires screeched, and the car fired off like a bolt of lightning, as the distance between struggling cops became even more embarrassing. 

“Tracker disabled. Can you lose them?” The woman in the passenger side asked, intently focused on the police scanner without any expression on her face. Police comms never sounded so desperate. 

“Of course. I can lose anyone.” 

“You better. The puppet master won’t like it if we’re late.”

“The PM can kiss my ass then.” 

Highways were a death sentence, especially when traffic was this bad, and you needed to get the hell out of there. You’d never lose cops like this. Even when speeds approached over 150 mph, wailing sirens grew louder and louder.

“They still have eyes on us. Two behind us, one charger on your right. They might pit us.” 

“They can try.” Not that you’d ever give them a chance to, and with a hand on the shifter, you floored it, weaving through traffic on the wrong side of the road. The adrenaline in your body sky-rocketed. It wasn’t anything you hadn’t done before, but it always came with risk—but with high risk came high reward. 

“Just don’t get cocky.” 

Vehicle still southbound, approaching dangerous speeds over 150 miles per hour. Be advised, now heading into opposing lanes of travel. Requesting additional units. 

The woman beside you looked nervous as she looked behind her, then focused on bright beams from the many death traps headed your way. Against her better judgment, she had confidence in your skills. 

“Chaewon, it’ll be fine. I’ve got this.” The sleek vehicle purred beautifully as you dashed in and out of traffic, loud horns blaring at you. One wrong move would send the both of you to the hospital, or worse, but you wouldn’t let that happen. 

“I sure hope so. I’d hate for this box to be my grave.” 

Your carefree words did little to put Chaewon at ease, but it wasn’t your job to keep her cool, just to arrive in one piece unscathed. When you spotted a break in the traffic, you pushed the car to its limits and drove back onto the proper side of the road, then took the exit, and rounded the corner back into the city. Sirens still roared behind, a constant reminder not to let your guard down. 

“I’ll lose them in two turns. Just watch.” 

“Bet. You owe me dinner if you don’t.” Dashing past several red lights, you took a left, went through a parking garage, out the other end, then took a right and under an overpass. Sirens were a faint murmur in the distance, and you saw flashing lights across the upcoming intersection, heading in the opposite direction. 

Vehicle currently VCB, last spotted heading northbound off exit 24

“You’re toying with them. This isn’t a game.” 

“Relax, Chae. It’s not my fault they make it too easy.”

“Wow, congrats. You out drove a bunch of cadets. Want a gold medal?” Chaewon turned her head and caught eyes with you, just to let you know it didn’t impress her. 

“Just mark the dropoff spot, sweetie. Maybe someday you’ll be able to drive this well.”

“You know cars aren’t my preference. I much prefer to have something thick between my legs.” Chaewon smirked, with her arms folded, and her cute nose twitched.

Miles of road went driven unfollowed, which gave ample time to catch your breath while you pulled into the destination—an empty, unmarked garage by the docks. 

“You’re reckless,” Chaewon scolded as she exited the car. Her round eyes widened and her gaze was intense. It was hard to tell the validity of her emotions. 

“Maybe. But did we get caught?” 

“Not yet. Day isn’t over, though.” 

A message popped up on your phone. Car has been successfully dropped off. Rank upgraded. Please leave the area.

“Another successful job. Guess I’ll see you later. Thanks for the help, Chaewon.” 

“What? You’re just going to leave a girl here alone? My bike isn’t anywhere near here,” Chaewon scoffed. 

“You can take care of yourself, can’t you? Want me to call you a cab?”

“Hell no. I’d never be caught dead in some smelly taxi. It’s just—”

“What? Spit it out.” 

“You know, it’s just—racing gets me all types of excited. I love the feeling of being a fast car, escaping from those dumb cops. It just really gets me going.” 

“Yeah, I know the feeling. My heart is still racing. I almost spun out a few times.” 

“Not that kind of excited, dumbass!” 

“Then what—”

Chaewon grabbed your shoulders, pushing you against the nearest wall, inside the garage with your back pressed up against it. She moved quicker than a cat and grasped your face, silky lips crashing against your own. The sweet, unforgettable taste of her mouth invaded yours, tongues colliding, dueling with one another, fighting back and forth to see who had the upper hand. 

“You’re so fucking oblivious,” Chaewon spat out. The only retort you had was biting on her lower lip, and swiping your tongue across her teeth, before you captured her mouth, and took your fair share of dominance. Your faces were a hair's breadth away, but the vacant stare she gave off didn’t last long, betrayed by the lust in her eyes that demanded your lips back on hers.

“Or maybe you’re just too easy to read,” you said, gazing into Chaewon’s round eyes. It was hard not to stare down at the plunging neckline of her dress and the escaping cleavage that drew your eyes to her breasts. Your hands didn’t stay idle, wandering around her creamy skin, and hooked your fingers into both straps of her dress. 

“No—just fuck me against this wall. We don’t have much time before the PM shows up to pick this up. I don’t want him to be here when you’re balls deep inside me.” 

“Fair enough. I’ll get my crew to send a car to pick us up,” you said, eyes exploring the curves of her desirable body. ”That dress looks great on you, Chaewon.” 

“Everything looks great on me. Now don’t keep a girl waiting.” 

It was unfortunate you didn't have the time to explore Chaewon’s perfect body. Her naked body had blessed your eyes many times before, but you’d have to wait for a more opportune time to give it the attention it deserved. As much as the puppet master didn’t intimidate you, that didn’t mean that you wanted to get on his bad side. 

With no hesitation, you spun Chaewon’s compact frame around, and hiked up her little black dress past her tiny waist. It was a pleasant surprise that she didn’t have panties on to get in the way, presenting her round, spankable ass that you felt inclined to do just that—and slapped one cheek hard. 

“Fuck!” Chaewon gasped, and bit her lip. She placed her palms flat on the wall in front and stuck her ass out to entice you more. “Make it hurt.” 

When your focus shifted to Chaewon’s delicious backside, you gave her plump cheeks a firm squeeze, then kneaded them with your fingertips, before you delivered another harsh spank. The smack of warm flesh was addicting, as was the jiggle that Chaewon’s cheeks made when your palm struck it. Each smack rippled the pale cheeks harder than the last, and you followed up with squeezes of the tender skin. Chaewon tried not to moan too loud, but she couldn’t hide her satisfaction. The harsh sting on her backside drove her wild. 

One more loud spank, then two fingers traced the outline of her ass and dipped lower. They moved between her legs and rubbed her bare slit. A smile formed on your face by the amount of slickness that coated your fingers with arousal. 

“You’re drenched,” you whispered, and made Chaewon blush from ear to ear. Perhaps the thrill of a chase turned her on more than she led on, but most likely Chaewon being spanked a little too much, the answer being a combination of the two. 

“And you’re fucking hard as a rock,” Chaewon said. She pressed her bare ass against your bulge and wiggled her hips. “Hurry and put it in me already.” 

With hurried movements, you unzipped your pants, dragged them down, and took your boxers off at the same time. Chaewon eyes brightened and snatched your cock up. Her slender fingers wrapped around your length, then she pumped slowly with a firm squeeze, and stroked it from base to tip. 

“It’s still as big as I remembered.” Chaewon spread her legs wide for easy access, and aimed your shaft between her legs. The delicate movements she used made you throb. 

“Fuck me here, or fuck me here. Your choice,” Chaewon said, as she lined up the swollen head of your cock against her pussy, then her little puckered hole. Both options were optimal, but the way your shaft twitched more against the rim of her ass made the choice easy for you. 

Greed filled your body—you wanted Chaewon’s pussy just as much, but you couldn’t waste a chance to stuff her shapely ass with your cock. “You know how much I love your ass.”  

Chaewon looked back, wearing lust on her immaculate features. “Then shove your big cock in it. Don’t even think about pulling out.” 

“Like I could ever pull out of such a perfect ass.” You felt a demonstration was in order, so you lowered yourself down and dug your fingertips into her buttcheeks, spreading them wide apart. 

Chaewon’s plump ass was supple enough that even when you cupped it, it didn’t fully fit in your hands. Unable to hold back, you shoved your tongue in her sweet little asshole and swirled it around. 

You could tongue Chaewon’s ass until your tongue grew numb. It was truly a taste to be savored. The cute whines she made while your tongue explored her hole were just like you remembered. But before you got lost with your face buried in between her cheeks, you didn’t let yourself get carried away. There would be a time and place to eat Chaewon’s ass like a feast. So you took one more round of teasing licks and slickened her asshole up enough to prepare it for the pounding it was about to take. 

When you stood back up, your cock twitched at the sight of her exposed ass. Chaewon’s cheeks were so perfectly sculpted, and so well defined, that you needed to slap your hard shaft on them, desperate for some relief with your cock so pumped to the brim with blood. 

“Why isn’t that inside me yet?” It was a valid question for sure, one that you didn't have an answer to. It was hard to take your eyes off her welcoming cheeks, yet you didn’t want to be caught with your pants down—quite literally when the PM arrived. So after you released a held breath, your cock slid inside Chaewon’s very tight asshole, and somehow managed just past the tip while it disappeared inside. 

“That’s fucking it,” Chaewon moaned, and tilted her head back. Her ass eased back onto your cock, as her hips moved at a sluggish pace. 

“Still so damn tight,” you hissed, and slowly stretched her little asshole out. it had been too long since you felt such a strong clench around your shaft. 

“Of course. Did you expect something else? You’ll never find an ass tighter than mine.” Chaewon wasn’t wrong—even when you started pumping in and out of her warm asshole, it strangled your cock with a tight vice grip on the few inches trapped inside, and demanded more. 

“Fucking hell, Chaewon. I’ve missed pounding this ass so much.”

“The feeling is mutual. Nobody stretches me like you do.” The whiny moans Chaewon made through pursed lips were music to your ears, as she savored the fusion of pleasure and pain coursing through her body. “You know I like it rough. What are you waiting for?” 

If there was any reason you were holding back before, you wouldn’t be anymore. You snatched her hips, forcing yourself deeper into Chaewon’s asshole, and filled her to the hilt, just to withdraw, then slammed back in. She felt so fucking tight it drove you crazy, almost painful to pump into her as you formed a rhythm in harsh, rapid thrusts. You wouldn’t let up for a moment. 

“Fuck yes, just like that! Pound that ass harder. Wanna feel every fucking inch of that big cock. I love when you’re so deep, holy shit. Stretch my tiny little asshole out as wide as you can.”

“I forgot what a dirty mouth you had. My cock still makes you this needy?” 

“Hmph. Just shut up and fuck me. Fuck me until you explode in me.” 

That was something you had no problem doing. It was more of a rush fucking Chaewon’s tight ass than any chase could ever give you, and your cock was such a perfect fit inside her. It was less of a struggle to bottom her out than expected, and the view of your shaft penetrating her inviting asshole was perfect.

“Harder, fuck me harder, “ Chaewon begged between needy moans, and pushed herself back onto your cock, which made the delicate slide in and out of her asshole feel more incredible. You were inclined to give her what she wanted, and gripped her hips harshly until the deafening slap of flesh against flesh echoed around the metal walls. 

“Oh my god, yes! Pound my asshole, I wanna be filled with your cum!” 

Desperate cries for more did not go unanswered, which unleashed the feral beast inside you. Now you moved with uncontrollable thrusts, hips in a frenzy as you rammed into Chaewon’s ass without a care, her tight hole nothing but an outlet for the built-up lust she created. 

Harsh smacks returned to her plentiful backside, and the pale cheeks took on a familiar rosy hue. Relentless spanks after each frantic thrust made in an attempt to absolutely ruin Chaewon’s small body. 

But somehow you weren’t fucking her hard enough. If Chaewon still had the ability to speak coherently, then you hadn’t done your job properly. Too focused on your own pleasure, you ignored the pool of liquid that formed underneath her thighs from an unknown number of orgasms, and your fingers pressed into her warm skin deep enough to form bruises. You held Chaewon steady against you, and moved so roughly her legs were liable to give out, but all you could hear were the needy moans and whines from her not so innocent lips. 

“Is this what you wanted? To be fucked like a whore in public? We could have waited until we were at my place, but you were so fucking desperate to get dicked down. That pussy was just too wet, wasn’t it? You couldn’t wait for me to rail your ass?”

Between the smack of your hips against her ass, Chaewon felt lost in the pleasure, and it took a second for her to respond. 

“God, you always—you always talk too fucking much. But fuck, you’re right. I can’t help that I love your fucking cock. Fuck, it just fills my asshole so well!” 

Chaewon couldn’t stop moaning. Yet you fucked her ass like you had something to prove—like she wouldn’t ever find anyone able to fuck her this rough or deep, like you had staked your claim to it. You’d never really admit it, but there was a mutual desire for each other—you lusted for Chaewon just as much as she did for you. 

You fucked Chaewon with so much strength; it was as if your cock belonged inside her welcoming, warm asshole. Chaewon took everything you gave her with gusto and still wanted more. 

“Cum inside me. Use me to drain your balls, empty your hot load into my tiny little asshole.” 

Chaewon’s dirty mouth sent tingles up your spine. Slick coated her thighs, and they only grew wetter the more you railed her, as she savored every frantic thrust that slammed her body. Time was short, and you couldn’t hold out much more if you wanted to. Chaewon felt a little greedy and took one more intense orgasm that made her thighs quiver, then scrambled to latch onto anything on the empty garage walls.

There was no doubt Chaewon could tell you were close, but the diverse stream of profanities that escaped her lips wouldn’t last much longer, and neither would you. You could probably count to ten, but there was no way you’d make it past nine before you exploded. Not when Chaewon’s asshole squeezed your cock this tight, and urged your load out at a rate faster than expected. You held her hips steady, pulling her back, then jammed your throbbing shaft up her little asshole. With such striking thrusts, you’d expected her to break, but she held on until you reached the point of no return. 

“Cum for me.” 

Chaewon looked over her shoulder, whispered those three heavenly words, and you lost it. 

Everything stood still—you held tight the bruising grip on her heavenly hips, and kept up the momentum, inching closer and closer until you couldn’t hold out. 

After you looked down at Chaewon’s parted cheeks, the orgasmic sight of your cock disappearing between them was the last thing you needed. Her name on your lips was the last syllable out of your mouth as you buried your shaft deep into her asshole, erupted violently, and pumped her incredibly tight asshole full of cum. There hadn’t been a better sense of relief as Chaewon milked your cock, her ass wringing out every little last drop out of you, with the constant pulsations and spurts filling her up to the very brim. 

You wanted to cum in her again. Even after you flooded her asshole with cum, you wanted to fill her up again, and again, and again, until there was nothing left in your balls to empty. But the thrusts in your hips involuntarily slowed down until you couldn’t move much more. It would do for now as you pulled out and watched the thick amounts of cum you blasted inside her gaped hole leak out. If you still knew Chaewon—and you’re pretty sure you did, one time wouldn’t be enough to satisfy her. 

“Holy shit, do you know how long it’s been since I’ve been fucked like that? That was—”

“Amazing?” you said, and answered for her. 

“Don’t get cocky. I hate when you’re cocky. Just because you fucked me stupid doesn’t mean—”

Sounds of tires pulling up interrupted whatever thought Chaewon had. Several car doors opened. then shut, and put a panic inside Chaewon. 

“Shit! It must be the puppet master. We’re fucked!” Chaewon frantically pulled her dress down and tried fixing her messy hair. 

“Relax, it’s my crew. They brought us a car, but they know how to be discreet. They left already. It’s not the PM.” 

Chaewon wouldn’t believe it until she saw it. She began exiting out the garage, when it hit her just how difficult it was to move. 

“God, I can barely walk.”

“If I recall, you wanted it this rough. You quite literally begged for it.” 

“Shut up, I never begged. Let’s get out of here before the PM comes. You’re driving. I can barely feel my legs.”

✦✦

Driving on the highway at the speed limit felt strange. No blaring sirens when you looked back, no cars trying to ram you off the road, just limitless roads, the music blasting, and Chaewon by your side. It was quite peaceful. 

“How much longer?” Chaewon asked, fidgeting in her seat, and played with the straps of the seat belt. 

“At least an hour. You know how long this drive takes.” 

Chaewon rolled her eyes. “Ugh, you’re driving so slow for a racer. I’m falling asleep.” 

“I’m driving ten over. I don’t want to get pulled over. The police probably have our descriptions.” 

She stayed silent and just listened to the sound of cars passing by. But Chaewon was never really silent for long. 

“I’ve got a better idea.” Chaewon unbuckled her seatbelt, and leaned over, then casually reached over the center console. She slid a hand over your leg, caressing dangerously close to your crotch, and gave your thigh a squeeze. 

“Eyes on the road, sweetie,” she said, before you could see the smirk that formed on her lips. 

“Chaewon, what are you—”

“Don't question it, just drive. But speed up. Go at least eighty.” 

Your foot pushed down on the pedal enough to meet Chaewon’s demands, as slim fingers teased your crotch, circling your shaft. “Just focus on the road.” 

It wasn’t that hard to keep your attention on the road, for now. Chaewon would surely change that, when her fingertips traced the fly of your pants, and made them tighter. 

“Consider this practice.” 

“Practice?” It got more difficult to keep your composure while Chaewon palmed your hardening cock through the fabric of your pants. She leaned out of her seat and kissed the side of her neck, right behind your ear.

“You’re not always 100% focused when you’re driving away from the cops, are you? You’ve got so many things to deal with: sirens, lights, trackers, other cars in the way.” 

Her fingers began unzipping your pants, and at the same she blew hot air into your ear and reduced her sweet voice to a whisper. “I’ll give you such a huge distraction, and you’ll have no choice but to keep your eyes on the road.” 

You knew what she was doing. You knew exactly what she had had planned, but there was no way in hell you’d stop her. “Assuming we don’t run off the road.” 

“Well, don’t run off the road then.”

Easier said than done. She took one lick against your neck, then moved to nibble your earlobe, fiddling with the button of your pants until she had enough space to slip a hand down your pants. It was safe to say controlling your breathing—or anything else wouldn’t be simple.

“The only thing you need to worry about is that fantastic driving of yours. I’ll do the rest.” 

It was easy for her to say, like you weren’t going crazy just with her small hand on your cock, stroking ever so slightly. You’d have to remember to buy one of those remote vibrators the next time she wanted to drive and offer some “practice” of your own. 

The next step in Chaewon’s well-calculated plan was to get rid of your pants, just enough past your knees to give unfettered access to your cock. Fingers teased around the swollen head, squeezing enough to earn a subtle groan from your lips as she stroked your length.”

“How long has it been, an hour since you destroyed my ass? And you’re this hard already? Looks like your balls have filled back up too. Fuck, I must really turn you on that much.”

It was pointless to answer her when your precum trickled down her fingers. “Such a big, juicy cock, all for my hungry little mouth to suck on.”

Several teasing licks later and Chaewon had you in the palm of her hand, figuratively and literally. So much so that your foot involuntarily slipped off the pedal, lowering the car’s speed to a more considerable limit. 

“No cheating. If you slow down, I’ll stop.” 

Chaewon couldn’t help but enjoy the situation you were in, and ran her wet tongue around the tip of your cock, smiling smugly when she licked the aching slit, lapping up the mess she had created. As if that wasn’t enough to neglect your attention towards the road, Chaewon lowered her head down and wrapped her lips around your leaking tip and brought you into her warm mouth. 

It was a natural reaction to close your eyes, but you forced them open, and just gripped the steering wheel hard enough to change the color of your knuckles. Chaewon, however, had no mercy. She sealed her lips tight, then pushed down until her mouth rested at your base, pulling back at an excruciatingly slow pace while dragging her tongue back up. 

Repetition was the name of her game. Slow bobbing of her head ensued, followed by playful licks around your leaking head that traced down the length of your shaft. Once Chaewon was done, she dipped down to coat your balls with saliva, and sucked on each one for a few seconds—not quite long enough to give actual pleasure. 

Unsafe speeds be damned, you craned your neck down enough and saw streaks of red Chaewon had left on your cock from her favorite lipstick. It was pure agony to not do anything but stare through the windshield, and you felt the compulsion to grab the back of her head for a necessary outlet. 

“No. Keep both hands on the wheel. I told you to let me do the rest.”  

Such demands weren’t something you were used to, but neither was getting blown at high speeds during the middle of a highway. Chaewon needed to shift her body around, getting in a more comfortable position with her legs stretched out, with her knees on the passenger seat. It was helpful her small frame allowed her the free rein of movement, but also gave anyone passing by a very obvious view of exactly what she was doing. Not that either of you cared. 

Chaewon paid close attention to the way your cock reacted to her touch, and with every lick and tender suck of her lips, she extended her motions, until you moaned the right way for her. She was having way too much fun with this. 

It was a bad idea to look down to your lap at Chaewon’s bobbing head. “This is one hell of a distraction.” 

Loud, hungry slurps filled your ears before Chaewon responded. “I know. But after this, we’ll be even better at escaping the cops. You’ll be able to drive with your eyes closed.” 

You wished you could close your eyes, if only for a moment, to process the warm mouth swallowing up your cock, sending shivers of electricity after every stroke. Chaewon had moved past the teasing stage. Her lips were now wet with saliva and secured around your shaft, taking it all down her throat with ease, and burying her nose down to your crotch successfully every time. 

“Fuck, Chaewon.” Words grew a little difficult to mouth out. It became more impossible to keep eyes focused on the road, when Chaewon’s talented mouth slobbered all over your cock and sucked with a renewed determination. 

Your fingers hurt from how hard you gripped the steering wheel, but there were limited options to what you could do, and regretted every time you looked down at the blur of bobbed hair that sucked with intense, sharp suction. Her tongue and lips did everything to make you mad with pleasure. And it was working.

Chaewon was driving you insane. 

Every second that went by surprised you that the car didn’t slide away from you. Chaewon hummed around on your cock, sending strong vibrations that upped the pleasure, and the intoxicating squeeze of her throat when pursed lips slid up and down. It was all too much. 

“Chaewon—”

She only responded by bobbing her head frantically and slurped loudly, with her tongue flicking wildly out of control. Her hands weren’t idle either—one fondled your balls, and the other squeezed your thigh to encourage exactly what she wanted. Your stomach coiled, forming an uncontrollable blaze that couldn’t be put out, and you just held the steering wheel tight for dear life while you embraced the inevitable.

Chaewon felt the persistent throbs of your shaft, which made her plunge her lips down as far as they could go, with her cute nose flush with your stomach as you emptied down her throat. 

Somehow, you kept the car steady, with strained moans while her lips drained your balls. Constant suction demanded your load, and it was so much cum Chaewon nearly choked on it.

It wasn’t Chaewon’s favorite way to make you cum, but when she had absolute control over you, she’d take it. She waited for every drop to be milked out, and savored the weight of your thick load on her tongue before she pulled back, tilted her head back, and swallowed it down in several gulps. 

“God, how do you still cum so much? All that cum in my asshole wasn’t enough?” Chaewon asked with a satisfied smile, and licked your shaft clean, not wasting a drop, as she admired the lipstick she had smudged all over your cock. 

“This was your idea.” 

“You’re right, it was but—”

Chaewon didn’t have time to finish her sentence when the blare of sirens popped up behind you. In your orgasmic trance, you hadn’t realized you were going over one-hundred mph, thirty miles well over the speed limit. 

“Here we go again.” 

“Guess it's a good thing we practiced,” Chaewon said, returning to her seat, and buckled herself back in. “Lose them, and we can find a nice, quiet place for round three in the backseat. That is, if you still have any cum left to dump in me.” 

“Oh, I’ve got plenty, trust me. So you better head back there and get ready to take that dress off.” 

[millllenniawrites]

warmth (Poe Dameron x Reader)

words: 5.6k yes it is the longest thing on this blog shush

summary: The Resistance’s victory celebration quickly turns sour when their trusted Commander, Poe Dameron, recognizes a toxin in the air. This favourite doctor is the only one he trusts with the information he has. You’re the only one you trust to look after him.

warnings: smut (this is 18+ people); afab!reader; porn with plot; sex pollen so that automatically makes it dubcon; doctor!reader; swearing, drugs, dirty talk, Poe Dameron is so whiny when he’s horny holy fuck; bondage; oral (f receiving); unprotected sex (wrap it up folks); pet names (good girl, honey, sweetheart, baby); this relies on Poe’s spice runner past (the one I use in Helix, not the gross canon one) but it’s not directly dealt with and it’s super vague 

a/n: I was trying to find a place to feature Kade Sol who is my baby sunshine light of my life from the Helix series and I snuck him in here! also this was a worldbuilding writing exercise that somehow turned into the filthiest smut I’ve ever written so there’s that 

__

As the last First Order ship disappeared from the sky, a victory cry sounded through the Resistance fighters. Poe Dameron landed on the tarmac of Cida’s Travel Station, popping the hood of his X-Wing. He grinned, watching the rest of Black and Blue squadron land around him, all hopping out of their ships and rejoicing on the deck.

They didn’t lose anyone in the air today. That alone was cause for celebration.

It had been three weeks of trying to break the First Order’s blockade on the Cida system. King Caran had graciously accepted the help of the Resistance, backed by the New Republic’s ships, and allowed them to set up a temporary base on Cida Prime. In exchange for liberating their system, His Majesty had granted the Resistance usage of their hyperspace lanes, which would cut the transport time from the Hosnian system to D’Qar in half. An easy trade, if anyone had bothered to ask Poe.

Which no one did, these days. But he was doing his best. 

Kade, his captain, shook him from his thoughts as he called from the ground, “The King is asking for you, Dameron.”

He dropped out of his ship, quickly hugging Kade, grateful as always to have his best friend by his side, before jogging into the command centre of the makeshift air base, where King Caran and Admiral Ackbar were waiting.

“Commander Dameron,” the King’s booming voice sounded through the small room as Poe entered.

Poe bowed low, nearly folding himself completely in half. “Your Majesty.” 

A pair of Cidan guards’ in navy uniforms flanked him as he trailed behind the King and Ackbar. Poe found himself tuning out the negotiations, agreeing with Ackbar on instinct as the two men spoke. They took more twists and turns than Poe could count. He began marking various basins, leaking different coloured smoke as landmarks, in case he needed to find his way out. 

Not that he thought the King wasn’t deserving of their trust. This was a war. He just wasn’t going to risk it. 

As they entered what appeared to be the King’s office, Poe felt almost out of place. Like he was floating, a gentle burning feeling in his gut the only thing grounding him. 

In a turn of events Poe was not expecting, he found himself missing you.

He loved Kade. Of course, he loved Kade. His second. His partner in crime. But the flight home was sure to be a boring one without you.

It wasn’t tradition, necessarily. But each time the two of you had taken a mission together, it had been a resounding success. And on your way home, he’d celebrated between your legs. 

And you’d taken care of him after, like the good girl he knew you were. 

The burning moved lower, a sweet smell settling in his nose. One Poe recognized, from a time before the New Republic Navy. 

Fuck.

Voice panicked, “King Caran,” Poe stood, realizing he had interrupted the King. Breathing heavily, he scanned the room, eyes locking on a small stone in the corner. It sat on a warming plate, small tendrils of yellow smoke disappearing into the air.

Caran laughed, following Poe’s gaze. “You know your therapies, my boy.” The man seemed… pleased. Proud. “A gift, from us to you.”

“With all due respect, your Majesty,” Poe coughed, a phantom of the sensation he had only felt once before aching deep in his lungs. “Most organisms outside of the Cidan’s can’t handle Stiima the way your graciousness can.”

“My apologies, my friend. We thought that it would help to calm things. For negotiations, of course.” Caran met Ackbar’s eyes, anxiety evident. “Please understand it is simply the way we celebrate such a great success as we have seen today.”

“I understand, your Majesty.” Ackbar side-eyed Poe, concern evident. “Are you alright, Commander?” 

The ringing in Poe’s ears drowned out the last of their conversation. The next thing he knew, he was back on the tarmac, shouting, “Kade. Get everyone in the air. Now.”

He beelined for his shuttle, locking himself in the cockpit. Hand clenching as he felt himself relax into the passenger seat, the pain of his nails digging into his palm grounding him. 

“Poe, you good?” Kade banged on the door.

He didn’t answer, focusing on the 

Kade finally got the door open. “Poe, what the fuck?” 

“Fly.” Poe said through gritted teeth. “I need you to fly.” 

So Kade did. 

They didn’t dock to the main carrier, flying above it. They would wait until it jumped to hyperspace before they followed. 

Poe watched as fighter after fighter flew into the large ship. Ears filled with cotton, he barely heard Ackbar’s order over the comms for anyone in a shuttle to stay away from the ship.

Code Orange.

Quarantine protocol.

Poe couldn’t stop his mind from going back to you. The last time you were on mission together. The way your mouth felt.

Your eyes. 

The innocent way you would smile, naked and spread out under him… 

“Poe?” Kade asked, sitting forward in his seat. “Are you alright?” 

Poe hit a comm button on his dash, connecting him directly to command. 

“Commander Dameron, are you alright?” A young man’s voice came through his headset. 

“I need you to connect me to med.” 

“Is someone—” 

“Connect me to med, officer. I need to speak with the doctor.” 

*

You opened the hull door of Poe Dameron’s shuttle, a small case of bacta and other various medications tucked under your arm. Coughing into your mask as you entered the dark ship, you quickly located the panel to seal the door behind you, saluting the mech on the ground that would lock you in after the door eased shut.

The convoy had landed hours ago. The medic team had been slowly working through shuttles, administering antidotes to those that could take them.  

It wasn’t poison. You’d ruled that out early. But the obvious effects of dehydration were evident. Poe seemed to know what it was, from the way he sounded in the recording Ackbar had passed off to med, but no one else was familiar with the symptoms everyone seemed to be presenting. 

Looking around, you stayed still for a moment, letting your eyes adjust to the dark. You had been in his shuttle before; you knew you were in the cargo bay, and if you followed the wall to your right, you would find the ladder that would lead you to the cockpit. Your mission. The plan. Assessing Poe and Captain Kade Sol’s symptoms. 

But if you went to the left and pushed the thin black curtain aside, you would find the small closet that served as his bed on long missions.

Your bed, when you joined him. 

It was hard not to smile, remembering the long nights in hyperspace with the famous Commander. The way his curls tangled around your fingers. How his stubble felt against the inside of your thighs…

Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you shook your head with a small embarrassed laugh and began to work your way to the ladder.

Even with the grey cloth pulled tight across your mouth and nose, you could still smell the musk of the air, heavy in your lungs. It wasn’t unpleasant, but it had a true weight to it, like slightly overripe fruit or warm spices, much worse than the three shuttles you had cleared before this. The rungs of the ladder were warm like the air, slick with moisture, a telltale sign that Poe and Kade had done as asked. There had been no air circulating in the ship since they landed. If any of the airborne toxins had gotten into the ship, it wouldn’t have had the chance to escape outside. 

You smiled as your hands brushed their oxygen canisters, hearing the slow leak of fluid. Always thorough, Dameron…

Your hands grazed the small railing that guarded the catwalk to the cockpit as you made your way down to the sealed door.

“Commander Dameron? Captain Sol?” you called, hoping they could hear you through the dense metal. “It’s Doctor--”

The hiss of the door caused you to jump and you stepped back, taking in the form of the Captain. The large man nearly filled the doorway, dark clothes making it difficult to see him in the blackness of the ship. “I know who you are. Command came through a little while ago.” His voice as gruff as always, but he said it with a smile. “I’ve had no symptoms, but I figure you still need to check me out?”

“Yes, Captain.” You nod, “If you wouldn’t mind going back into the cockpit for me…”

He grumbled something you couldn’t make out but did what you asked, sitting in the only passenger seat in the small room, empty save for them.

“Where’s Commander Dameron?” you asked as you knelt in beside Kade, fingers on his wrist.

You ran through the basics of your training as he talked. 

“Poe didn’t get so lucky. Got hit worse than most people, from what we’ve heard. He was in the King’s office. Said something about a… diffuser?” When you nodded, he seemed to relax. “That’s why he made the call. Asked me to lock him up until a medic got here. He was specifically asking for you, so I guess we got lucky.”

You were grateful for the dark, hiding the way you flushed. “Guess so.” Unable to hide the warmth in your voice, you gave Kade a small smile. “There isn’t a brig on this ship. Where—"

“His quarters. Stun cuffs magnetized to the wall.” He seemed almost embarrassed, ducking his head. “I’m not sure what’s wrong with him, exactly. Just that he hasn’t really stopped making noise since about twenty minutes after we landed.”

You hesitated. Generally careful about the information you give out to patients, you weren’t sure it would be appropriate to explain, but Kade and Poe were a package deal. Rarely did you see one without the other. They’d been joined at the hip since long before they had defected to the Resistance together.

“It’s a potent aphrodisiac.” You murmured, standing behind him and tilting his head to check for discolouration on his neck, “Most people got hit with… well, let’s call it Level 1 symptoms. Loose tongue. Unable to really control what they’re saying, or at least not thinking it through. Level 2 are action: making choices you wouldn’t ordinarily make. The… aphrodisiac part. If you get to level two, we’ve found they wear off in about three hours. No antidote needed. Just fluids and rest, after it all. But you’ve been in here almost a whole day…” and Poe’s condition hadn’t improved.

“Which means what? He’s at level 3?”

There wasn’t a level 3. 

Coming around in front of Kade, you nodded slowly. “Was he complaining of… pain?” you flinched as you said the word, knowing the man had no idea what you were truly asking.

“Right before he asked me to gag him. He had moments he was lucid… basically told me to leave him locked up, no matter what he said.” 

There was only one other person that had said the drug hurt, and she had been fine for a few hours now. 

Kade chewed idly on his bottom lip, seemingly lost in thought. “Not easy being locked in while your best friend is raving like a madman.”

“The gag was a good call. He’ll thank you once he’s back to himself.” You tried for another smile. “You seem okay. Vitals are normal. Rosa is just outside. I’ll let her know that she can open the door. She’ll give you a mask and escort you to showers, and then back to your quarters. They’ll send a medical droid to check you out fully before you’re allowed to intermix with the base. Just in case.”

“Thank you, doc.” Kade stood, heading out the door to the rest of the shuttle. “Poe is—”

“I know.” You nodded, not really thinking through your words. “Closet. Curtain.”

Kade paused, turning to look at you for a moment. His eyebrow twitched, just slightly, before he dropped down the ladder. You appreciated that he hadn’t said anything, having a sneaking suspicion that he didn’t know you only off your medical reputation.

Your excursions with Poe were a relative secret, not wanting command to restrict you going on missions together because of your… you weren’t really sure what to call it. Enough people had stories about him that you knew you weren’t exclusive, but being with him was different. It had always been different. 

Though you supposed all the people he took to bed could say the same thing. 

You pushed the heavy curtain aside.

He was laid back on his cot, only one of his boots on. Poe struggled against his cuffs, attached to the wall above his head, and whined through the gag in his mouth. The bed squeaked and shook. It was a significantly less pleasant sound when you were standing there, not on top of him…

You shook your head quickly, a reminder that you were working, before you knelt on the ground next to Poe’s head. His eyes widened as he focused on you. Reaching for the fabric cutting into his cheeks, your fingertips grazed his jaw. “I’m gonna remove this, okay?” you murmured before eased the gag out of his mouth, letting the loop of dark cloth hanging around his neck.

“Sweetheart…” he whined the moment his mouth was free to move, his voice cracking around the dryness of his throat. You set your med case on the floor and opened it quickly, digging through bandages and bacta patches before finding what you needed. You lifted a small canteen to his lips, letting the water trickle into his mouth. He coughed, spluttering a little before he was tilting his head away, gasping, “Please, sweetheart. I need…”

You shushed him gently, swiping a cloth over his lips. Trying to distract him, you softened your voice, “You got everyone out before it could get bad, Poe. Everyone else is safe.” 

He turned his head to look up at the ceiling, seeming to relax a little. Your eyes found his throat. Watching him breathe, swallow, reminded you of the way his skin tasted… 

Fuck. 

You coughed again into your mask, murmuring, “I’ll be right back.” and ignoring the way Poe whined as you let the curtain fall behind you. 

Once you were a few steps away from him, you could breathe a little easier. The air was hot, fucking scalding through your mask, and you tilted your head back a bit to force yourself to breathe deeply. Slowly. Calmingly. 

You reached up, touching the pad of the in-ear to firmly press it into your head, “Rosa? You copy?” 

The woman’s high voice came through, louder than before. Her voice seemed to be directed straight into your skull. “Everything alright in there, doc?” 

“Everything’s fine. Commander Dameron has symptoms we haven’t seen before and I think I’m contaminated. It’s not bad. I can work through it. But I’m going to take my comm out just in case.” You really didn’t need command hearing your unfiltered thoughts.

She grumbled, “Maker. You sure you’re alright?” You swore you could almost see the way her eyebrows furrowed. 

“Yeah, Rosa. I’m good. Level 1 or less. Just make sure those doors stay locked until we come off it. Don’t open them for anyone. Even the General.” 

She turned on the link long enough that you heard her laugh before she said, “Sounds good. If we need you, we’ll come through the cockpit.” A brief pause, “Stay safe, doc.” 

“You too, Rosa.” 

Pulling the plastic out of your ear, you double checked that you had it turned it off before returning to Poe’s side. 

He relaxed the moment you were back in view, hips stilling on the bed. You tried not to stare at the obvious tent in his pants. 

His eyes seemed to focus better than before, saying quietly, “I heard you. Talking to Rosa. You shouldn’t have touched me.” 

He was right. It was probably your proximity to him that did it. But you had to do your job. That was your only priority, of course. Of course…

“Like I’ve ever been good at keeping my hands to myself with you around.” You froze as the words slipped past your lips, unable to stop them. 

He didn’t seem bothered by the sudden accidental honesty, but his eyes glazed over again, trailing over you. “I miss your hands…” he groaned, biting his lip and sending a wave of heat through you. 

“Careful, or I’m gonna put that gag back in.” Voice sounding forced even to your own ears, you sat down on the floor, your back resting against the bed. 

He mumbled something you couldn’t quite understand, until he repeated himself. “Take yours off. The… the mask. If you’ve got it…” 

He was right. If you’d already been exposed, there wasn’t any point in keeping it on. It was hot. There was no one in there but you. You weren’t hurting anyone. You could take the mask off. It would be fine. You—

“Sweetheart…” Poe groaned, rattling the cuffs. 

You ripped the mask off your face, tossing it near your medical kit. 

“G-good. Can you… can you please take my arms down, honey?” he tugged at the cuffs again. If you had turned to look at him, you would have seen the desperation you knew was painted across his features. “It hurts.”  

His whine sent a pang of guilt through you. “Why did you know what the drug was?” you asked, hoping it would distract him.

“It’s used in party drugs. The way it burns… it’s not like anything else I’ve ever—” He shifted, trying to get more comfortable, despite the way his pants were twisted around his legs from hours of struggling. The fabric stuck against him and pulled, and he moaned, guttural and sweet and chipping away at the wall of self-control you had haphazardly built against him. 

“Poe,” Meant to be chastising, the word landed somewhere in the realm of yearning and breathless. 

“Anything, sweetheart. Please.” Rolling his head back and forth on the bedroll under his head, he sounded close to tears as he whined, “I think my dick is going to fall off if you don’t touch it.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, helping to break the cloud of arousal circling your head. “I don’t think that’s a medically sound diagnosis, Commander.” 

“Say that again…” he breathed. 

“Medically—”

“No.” 

Your sharp intake of breath was the only sound in the shuttle. 

“Commander?” 

He tilted his head back, groaning, “You say my title and I can’t stop thinking about being inside you.” 

“It’s just the drugs.” 

“You know it’s not just the drugs.” You could have sworn it was a growl with the way the low sound of his voice tore through you. “I need you to touch me, honey.” 

“Will you stop talking if I do?” 

“Come lay with me and give me one hand back. Then I’ll stop talking.” 

Negotiating meant he was lucid, if only partially. 

“I thought you said it makes it worse if I touch you.” You squeezed your eyes shut, like that could block out the image that his soft gasps conjured in your mind. 

“It’ll get worse before it gets better.” 

“Always got a fucking answer for everything…” You grumbled, but it worked. Carefully, you eased yourself up off the floor and onto his small cot and leaned over him. One ring of the cuffs released with the click of a few buttons. 

After freeing the gag from around his neck and tossing it to the floor, Poe’s free hand immediately reached for you, gripping your thigh. Even though the thick fabric of your pants, you could feel how warm he was. “Sweetheart…” 

“You said you’d stop talking.” 

“Lay down. Lay down and I’ll stop talking.” 

You had agreed to it. And when his fingers dug into your thigh and the wave of relief washed over you at his touch, you weren’t about to argue. 

So you laid down, back to him, letting his free hand roam up and down your side. Under your shirt. Down under the top of your pants that he didn’t bother to undo. There wasn’t any focus to his movements. Where he touched you, you relaxed, and as his touch moved on, your skin burned. 

You didn’t notice the high-pitched whine leaving your parted lips until Poe’s hand came to rest on your throat. 

“Does it hurt?” He traced from your jaw to your collarbone, over and over, putting just enough pressure on your neck that you were gasping. 

“N-no… Are you…? Does it hurt for you?” 

“This is better. You being close makes it better.” 

“It’s just warm.” That was the only way to describe it. It was like he had set you on fire. Everywhere he had touched ached. 

He groaned, breath hot against your ear as he rutted his hips against you. “Let me help, sweetheart…” No amount of squirming was going to make the heat go away and you couldn’t figure out how he could be so slow about all of this. “I can make you feel good. I can make it go away. Please…” His fingers trailed across the exposed skin of your stomach, soothing the burning feeling that wracked your body. 

You gripped his wrist, bringing his hand up under the hem of your shirt, needing his cooling touch. Arching your back, your ass grazed him and you groaned together.  

“Please sweetheart.” he begged, voice low and sending vibrations through your back where he pressed against you. “Let my other hand down. I promise I’ll make it worth it.” He rattled the cuff still glued to the wall for good measure. 

He didn’t have to ask you twice. Rolling over, you shoved him onto his back and swung a leg over his hips. Grinding down as you reached over him, you released his hands, leaving the cuffs on the wall, up and out of the way. He was quick to flip you onto your back, hand cradling the back of your head as his lips met your neck. 

“Pretty girl…” Poe murmured as his hand tangled in your hair, wrenching your head back to expose your neck. “Such a pretty girl for me… so fucking sweet…” 

“Poe… Poe, please.” The whine left you before you could fully decide what you were begging for. Just more. More of him. His hands on your body. His lips on your skin. 

The heaviness of the air weighed you to the cot, your knees down to the thin mattress as he slotted himself between your legs – still fully clothed – and you fell apart in his arms. Gasping into his mouth, body convulsing, you could barely move with the way he was positioned above you. You couldn’t open your eyes. You could barely breathe with the way every small movement sent searing heat straight to your core. 

“Fuck.” His dark eyes focused on your heaving chest. “Do that again.” 

He fought with the ties on your pants, tearing the sides as he forced them down your legs, taking your underwear with them.

 It was all you could do to keep from screaming as he sunk two fingers into you. 

Each movement of his fingers battled the heat coursing through you and let you come back to yourself, if only for a moment. His other hand splayed out on your stomach to keep you still. He pushed your shirt up and you ripped it over your head. 

Your head spun as you realized he was still completely clothed. 

Leaning down, he sunk his teeth into the inside of your thigh. Where you expected pain, pleasure ran down your legs. Following his trail of bite marks with soft kisses, up closer to where you needed him, he blew softly on your folds and you cried out, bucking off the cot. 

You could hear the squeaking of the bed as you squirmed. Each laboured breath Poe took as he nestled himself between your trembling legs. The rasp in his voice as he murmured, “...wettest fucking cunt I’ve ever seen...” before he lowered his face to meet the apex of your thighs. 

His mouth on you didn’t offer the relief you were so desperately searching for. It somehow made it worse, every swipe of his tongue followed by a trail of fire. 

You pushed at his head but he barely responded. “Poe… Poe please… I need your cock…” 

He hummed lightly against you, his tongue working you slowly, like you weren’t threatening to burn up underneath him. 

Finally, you grabbed onto a handful of his curls and pulled. 

He only looked up in mild annoyance. Gripping your wrist tight, he forced your hand to the cot. “I’ve got you. I’ll take care of you.” Though the words were soft, his tone was gruff. 

Poe slowed his soft circles on your clit and you whined again, pushing up into his mouth. “Stay still.” He mumbled against you. 

Each of his motions were so methodical, you could have sworn you were the only one dealing with symptoms. Until he glanced up at you with his almost-black eyes. 

You stopped breathing.

You weren’t afraid. You could never be afraid of Poe. But you’d never seen him so unhinged. Like he was going to jump, and you were coming with him. 

He snatched up both your wrists, leaning over you. Tipping your head back, you tried to kiss him but he moved further, up above your head. 

In one quick motion, he locked both your hands in the cuffs on the wall. 

“I need it. Please. I need--” He didn’t finish the sentence, hooking his hands under your knees and spreading you out for him. His tongue found your clit again and you couldn’t hear your own scream over the rush of blood in your head. 

He’d always been accommodating. He took constructive criticism well and was determined to get you off, no matter what he had to relearn, when the two of you had fucked before. 

Now, he took each of those little pieces and, like he’d been given the code to your body, he took you apart. 

Every stroke of his tongue would have seemed planned if not for the way he moaned into your skin, the way he grinded his hips into the cot beneath him. You gave up fighting against the cuffs, instead focusing on rolling your hips against his face. 

He held still, letting you move the way you wanted. Letting you use his tongue. Guiding your hips. It wasn’t until he set you down and you opened your eyes that you realized that he was dripping with you.

His chin glistened as he sat up and yanked his shirt over his head. His eyes didn't leave yours as he undid his pants, shucking them off and tossing them somewhere with his shirt. You didn't care. You didn’t care where his clothes were or where yours had disappeared to. 

“My-- the cuffs. Poe, I need to touch you…” 

Your hands were in his hair the moment he released you, pulling his mouth to yours. He tasted of you, and the heaviness in the air, and the familiarity of him that you’d grown so intoxicated by. 

Ordinarily, he’d tease you. Just like this, your legs spread for him. He’d drag the head of his cock over you until you stopped threatening him, until you melted and became putty in his hands and your begging became wordless. 

But he didn’t have the patience. You could see it in his face. He angled his hips, sliding into you slowly. 

With this, there was relief. But it came as quick as it went and you were again whining under him, your cunt clenched tight around him. 

He pushed deeper, his face tucked into your neck. “Relax, baby. Relax. You’re so-- so fucking…”

You didn’t know how he was going so slow. You didn’t know how he managed to stop, only halfway inside you. 

All you knew was that you needed him. 

You pulled his hips into yours. After two orgasms, there was no resistance. He bottomed out, gasping into your mouth. “Pretty girl…” 

“Fu… Fuck me. Poe please please fuck me--” You pulled at his shoulders, his hair, grinding up into him as much as you could with him fully on top of you. “It hurts. Please…” 

Whatever well of self control he’d been drawing from seemed to have dried up. Snapping his hips into yours, he kissed you. 

His tongue dominated your mouth, not giving you space to breathe. Or think. Or do anything other than take what he was giving you. Your nails dug into his upper arms, leaving little crescent moons behind. His soft gasps of encouragement had you writhing beneath him. 

“Perfect little… You take me so well, honey. Like you were fucking made for me…” 

His words alone threatened to take you over the edge. 

The burning came to a throbbing head in your core and you arched up into him, trying to pull him closer. Deeper. Anything to quell the fire inside you. 

“Poe… Commander… P-please let me cum…” You weren’t in control of your words anymore. You weren’t in control of anything. “I need you.” 

You wrapped your legs more tightly around him and his hips stuttered but he wasn’t stopping. Not for fucking anything.

“Let me feel you, pretty girl.” He growled against your neck. 

And you unraveled. 

The relief washed over you in waves as you lay beneath him. Between each peak, you could hear your own panting, feel the way your body fluttered around him. 

You floated in the bliss.

Vaguely, you felt yourself roll over. Something cold dug into your side, but you couldn’t figure out how to move. Or figure out how to want to. 

Your chest was still heaving as he traced along your ribs. A warm body came flush with your back. Fire trailed his dancing fingers. 

“Sweetheart…” A soft moan at your ear. Breath, warm on your neck, sending a ripple through you. He pressed his hips forward, his hard cock sliding against your ass. “I need more. Please?” 

You shifted your aching hips back towards him. “Please.” 

*

You weren’t sure how long passed before you returned to normal – sated and thoroughly exhausted, but normal. Your skin no longer burned at the gentlest of touches. You could stand to look at him, to draw over the planes of his chest as he laid beside you without feeling the unyielding need for his cock inside you. 

Your fingertips traced gently over the straining cords of muscle in his neck and he shuddered. 

“You bit me.” He finally whispered. 

You dissolved into a fit of giggles, curled up against his side. His arm wrapped around you, pulling you onto his chest. 

“I’m sorry.” You laughed against his neck, kissing over the hickies you’d left behind. 

“Don’t be. It was hot.” 

“Where’d I bite you?” You propped yourself up on an elbow, looking down at him. 

He tapped his upper arm, right underneath a series of bite marks. Ducking your head, you kissed over them, murmuring soft ‘I’m sorry’s between pecks. 

“It’s okay. Really.” He tapped under your chin and you met his gaze. “Was that okay? We’ve never used cuffs or anything before and I’m really sorry--” 

You kissed him to cut him off. “I’m okay. I trust you. You know that, right?” 

He didn’t answer. Instead, he rolled on top of you, an intensity in his eyes that would have scared you if you didn’t know him. 

“I’m glad it was you.” Forehead pressed to yours, you shuddered as his soft breaths fanned across your lips. “I was hoping it would be you.” 

Your breath caught. Gently, you brushed away the curls that fell in his face, tilting your face up and bringing your lips to his again. 

He mumbled between kisses, “Can I take you for dinner?” You were too stunned to say anything, letting him kiss your bottom lip gently. He lingered at the corners of your mouth, leaving light kisses behind. “Hm? Will you let me take you out, sweetheart?” 

“On a date?” 

“If you don’t want it to be a date, it can just be a thank-you dinner--” 

“It can be a date. Can it be a date?” 

Giggling against your mouth, he said, “It can. I’d like it to be.” 

“We should probably get out of this shuttle first.” 

“Maybe put some clothes on before that?” 

“Maybe.” Your nose brushed his. “Maybe I’d like to kiss you first.” 

“Maybe I’ll let you.” 

[madrcams]

" Boooooo! Let him EAT! "

[liquid-luck-00]

My Life is One Complication After Another 3

Cursing Ahead 🤬

Ao3 *** First *** Previous *** Next

~~~~~~~~~~

Ever since Mari's classmates stopped talking with her, they also stopped asking her for favors. Along with a blocked and rotating schedule for patrols meant that she actually had a sleep schedule. Sure she didn't get nearly enough but that was what coffee is for.

That was how she found herself down in the bakery with her papa. Roy had called her and the four of them talked and it was comfortable. Mari was the one who opened and was watching the front. She was still talking with Roy, but now it was on a headset, as he was out patrolling In Starling City.

"So as I was saying before we were oh so rudely interrupted." came Roy's voice in her ear. "So Ice cream and movies?"

A soft laughter escaped her and a smile on her lips.

"Sounds gre..." the bell at the door chimed. "Hey guys come in," she greeted the Waynes.

"Let me guess the bats?" Roy supplied as Dick bounced towards the counter.

"Good morning Marinette!" Dick practically sang loud enough for even Roy to hear.

"God how the hell is he so chipper so early." she heard Roy grumble.

"God damn morning people," she grumbled. That elicited laughter from both Roy and Jason.

"Amen to that!" Tim seconded in a monotone lifting a coffee cup. "Maman I'm going to take the Waynes up." she called poking her head into the kitchen. Her Maman nodded so she picked up her phone and walked towards them.

"I'll Let you go," Roy was about to hang up.

"Wait how about we give the Bats a heart attack." she smirked changing to the ancient language of miracles.

"I like the way you think, I'll catch you later." he responded in the same tongue.

"See ya then." she smiled, switching back the language. Ending the call and removing the ear piece. “Are you guys coming or do I have to drag you guys?" she turned back already at the door. Granted most of them showed confused faces and side eyes, but she smiled. They followed her without saying a word.

Once they were in the apartment she excused herself to change into more appropriate gear. She activated Kaalki’s miraculous, who then silently portaled out.

That being said she changed into a pair of black skinny cargo pants with red combat boots. A black long sleeve shirt under a cropped red sleeveless hoodie. Her hair was half down with red and pink streaks and a mini white gold backpack with three patches in the same white gold finished her outfit. She grabbed four parcels and went down.

"So we can either do the boring ground tour or," she held up the bundles. "we can turn up the speed."

"I like the way you think Pixie Pop." Jason stood and she handed him his.

"Roy sent me you guy's sizes, so I altered and customized a few things." she smiled. "bathroom is over there and the guest room is next to it." Dick looked torn between excited and horrified when handed his stack.

Tim seemed awake, but she knew better, "go change and I'll have a fresh pot of coffee ready." He nodded robotically as he got up.

She set the last bunch next to Damian, who was looking like an angry kitten. She sat down next to him and leaned in.

"What are you.." he started but Mari whispered in his ear.

"The jacket has a hidden sling for a katana, which will be practically invisible when on." His eyes widened slightly and there was a bit of slack in his jaw now. Before turning into an amused smirk. "Use my room up the stairs and through the hatch." she finished as he headed up the stairs.

"I'm impressed he let you close without struggling," Bruce broke his silence, as she finished prepping the coffee maker.

"Well he would have if," she began as Damian practically crashed down the stairs and all but tackled Bruce before rushing out the door. The closest she had ever seen her baby brother smile, which effectively made her smile.

"Holy crap! What are you?!" Dick made himself known.

"More importantly what the fuck did you do with Demon spawn!" Jason shouted from next to Tim, who was being propped up by both Jason and Dick.

"Tt. I am right here Todd." The scowl reappearing on his features. "It is adequate Dupain-Cheng."

"I'll take it as a compliment on one condition."

"And that is?" he rose a brow.

"You call me Marinette not Dupain-Cheng. I'm your sister aren't I?"

He seemed to war with himself for a moment before stating. "That is acceptable, Marinette."

At this point all the bats in the room were playing a game of ping-pong between Marinette and Damian. They were trying to figure out what magic spell Marinette must have used, when in reality she just seemed to fall into Damian’s good graces automatically. OK so maybe Marinette being the holder of the ladybug miraculous as well as being the great guardian of the order has that affect on most people, a sense of respect and trust that seems to permeate her aura.

She was handing Tim a huge mug as the front door swung open to reveal her Maman.

"Hello Bruce," Sabine greeted.

"It is good to see you Sabine," was his response.

“Maman," Mari pulled her mother's attention from her biological father. "These are Bruce's boys and my brothers. Tim, Jason, Dick, and Damian." she motioned to each one respectively.

"It's nice to meet all of you." Sabine smiled, "why don't all of you get something from the bakery before you go."

After finishing their small breakfast in the park Mari pulled out a map and a marker.

"So what do you guys want to see?" They listed off places that she marked down. She added a few to the list to fill it out, marked the route and took a picture and sent it to Roy. "Okay so this will work." she glanced at her phone. A quick look on social media showed no one has found Andre yet. She pulled out a case of comms and added, "Also keep your eyes out for Andre."

"Who is that?" Dick asked taking the earpiece.

"Andre's Ice cream cart, the best ice cream in Paris." Marinette answered.

"Then why must we look for him?" Damian added.

"Well he changes locations daily and turns it into a game of tag of sorts."

"Alright, lead the way Pixie." with a smirk she dashed off her brothers close on her heels.

Yes this is the best way to get to see the city, but this was also a test to see how the bats did without their toys.

Getting to Notre Dame was uneventful. Dick kept up a steady conversation with her, just a step behind with Damian, Jason brought up the rear but would constantly toss in quips and questions. Damian and Tim were mostly quiet, unless they were trying to get one of their brothers to stop a particularly embarrassing story.

Getting to the Louve was even more entertaining. Now that Dick had a feel for the Parisian roofs he would do flips and vaults to make her laugh. In the Louve is another story.

They had accidentally ran into some of her classmates, quite literally. She and her brothers were taking goofy 'walk like an Egyptian' group photos on the second floor of the Egyptian exhibit, the mini Ladybug camera was reattaching to her phone charm when Tim began asking her questions about it.

"Well my best friend loves anime, and we kinda sorta binged the entire Dragon Ball series and when we saw the ladybug camera. He said it would be impossible to create and maintain the quality of the image. So I kinda sorta made it out of spite." she mumbled the end.

"Hell if you weren't my sister I would beg Bruce to adopt you," Tim stated. "Do you have the files I would love to look through them. Maybe send them to Babs or Cy!"

"Sure I think I have it on a flash drive." That was when a tall body, walking backwards slammed into her, pushing her into Jason. "oof."

"You okay." Dick was in full mama hen mode fretting over her.

"I wasn't watching where I was going." the figure spoke as he turned around. "I'm sor." the words died on his tongue, Kim.

Max, Alix, Nino, Alya, and oh kwami no Lila, who were now all snickering.

"I'm fine Dick," she smiled to reassure him. However her classmates were shocked.

Lila of course was the one who broke the silence, by beginning to cry. "I'm so sorry about her. I know she hates me but to be so rude to a complete stranger!" her sobs breaking the sentence while her lackeys went to console her, glaring daggers at Marinette.

"Seriously girl," Alya began to scold her. "Your little out burst not only made Lila cry. Your insulting someone who is just trying to be nice."

She and her brothers were now standing awkwardly being scolded by a teenager. After three minutes of trying to figure out what they were being scolded for and why the guys hadn't apparently left.

"What the fuck did she do that your yelling at her for?" Jason finally broke Alya's rant. Now it was the five Parisians and the Italian to stand there confused.

"She called him a dick," Alya sighed exasperated.

"Yes." Dick answered confusing them further.

"Dick."Tim now called.

"What?!"

"Dick!!" Damian, Marinette, Tim, and Jason all called, and immediately began laughing.

"What? Oh, oh," a sheepish smile now on his face. “Names Richard but I go by Dick,” he explained to those who weren’t laughing, smiling at them.

"Tt. this is why I call you Grayson." Damian rolled his eyes. "Besides this one still has not apologized." he jabbed a finger to Kim.

"It's not worth it Damian,” Marinette shook her head. "We should head back to the bakery anyways. Maman has probably finished scolding Bruce." she smirked.

"Damn I wish I was a fly on the wall for that conversation" Jason lamented.

"Well..." she held up the ladybug charm and flipped it over showing an empty space.

"Two!" Tim shouted.

"Anyone who beats me back gets a copy," she smiled.

"Your on." Jason nodded as he vaulted over the safety wall from the second floor. Damian and Dick sprinted in opposite directions.

"Sorry Mars your gonna loose." Tim shouted as the last to leave.

"We'll see," she shot back. "Bye," She turned to her classmates as she grabbed the railing above and flipped up and over to the third floor, running to one of the secret zip lines the miraculous team set up.

"What the fuck" was faintly heard behind her, all but Lila and Max shouted by the sounds of it, as she jumped from the window.

She made up quite a bit of distance and seemed to be on Damian's heel. She had passed Tim and Dick was a few steps behind. Jason was just out of arm reach. So with a burst of speed both she and Damian were shoulder to shoulder with Jason.

The three of them simultaneously practically crashed into the side door of the bakery.

"I won."

"In your dreams Todd."

"I beat both you and Pixie"

"Check your eyes, or do you need the camera installed in your helmet." Jason's gaze hardened at Damian's words.

"How about we call it a three way tie and you both get a copy." Mari interrupted. "We should head up." Laughing Marinette opened the door and went up.

Lunch was rambunctious, but she was coming to expect that with her brothers.

“Too bad we couldn’t find that ice cream guy Mari,” Tim spoke up once everyone had finished eating.

“Oh let’s see if anyone has posted where he’s at today!” She went to check her phone but a message ended up distracting her.

Andres in your favorite spot I’ll meet you there at 7 your time.

"Cool he’ s in my favorite spot in all of Paris which just happens to be the last spot on our list today," she announced, sending off a text, setting her phone down, screen up.

Can't wait Katniss

"Why don’t you all go and Mari can get to know Bruce," Sabine offered.

OK granted it’s a good idea, maybe I should get to know my biological father but am I ready to? Do I want to? Am I yes, yes I want to get to know my biological father, yes I want my family to grow, my brothers are such protective goofballs and I love them already.

"Sounds good," she smiled.

That was when her phone lit up from a message. She went to pick it up, but she was to slow.

Jason was the one who snacked her phone. "Message from Katniss says see ya then Peeta. So who's Katniss Pixie."

"Well..." she started but she began to blush furiously.

"That would be her boyfriend," her Maman decided to add before heading back down to the bakery with Papa.

Dick pounced asking a million and one questions, Bruce physically froze but she could tell his mind was racing because that look was much the same as hers. Jason was pensive, while Tim and Damian just seemed bored or tired.

So that was how she found herself talking about Roy, blushing furiously. While simultaneously avoiding his name and details that would tip any of them off. After about a half hour of her answering questions did Dick start telling her about his fiancée. How they were planning on setting a date for the wedding.

After that the next few hows was spent sharing stories and tidbits of themselves.

However, thanks to Dick a design was swimming in her mind. so she did the only logical thing and ran up to her room. Grabbed three drives, her tablet and pen and ran back down. She tossed the red drive to Tim, and Jason and Damian each a black drive. Plopped down and began stretching out an Italian suit with a nock lapel. A rough coloration of a midnight blue offset by a sapphire. Accents of golden thread, emerald buttons and an Osiria rose in the lapel. She signed the design 'Mira Luck' and handed Dick the tablet.

"So I couldn't help myself," she begun to fidget. "But in my defense you told a designer about a wedding and my brain wouldn't stop screaming at me until this was on something. So what do you think? I know its rough but."

"Holy Shit your Mira Luck as in M, Jagged Stones personal designer. You are M as in the designer for the Lucky Spot!!" Tim screamed lunging to take the tablet from Dick.

"That's me," a blindingly bright smile lit up her features.

"So what do you think?" she asked again.

"It's amazing we were actually hoping to talk to you about Kori’s dress." Dick smiled. "I could call her it's not too late there."

"Perhaps it would be best to discuss it in person when Marinette next goes, that way she can get to know Gotham." Bruce interjected.

"That actually might be sooner than you think," she responded.

"I was actually accepted to be an exchange student for the next semester at Gotham Academy."

"Wait you’re willing we going to Gotham to study! You ’re going to Gotham willingly. Bruce I think your daughter might be a little crazy." Jason surprisingly brought up.

"I might be but but it’s no crazier than Paris and it’s a Akumas. Besides I would love to design your fiancée’s dress and we should head over to Andre’s ice cream before the sunsets that way we can watch the lighting of the Eiffel tower." She got up and called out. "Hey Jason mind passing me my backpack."

"Yeah sure," he went around he couch to grab it and toss it to her but before he did he finally seemed to notice the patches. "Wait are these The Outlaws."

"Yeah Red Hood, Arsenal, Star Fire, and Bizarro." she was smiling.

"Why choose The Outlaws?" Tim brought up.

"Honestly it was because Roy mentioned something about Arsenal and Red Hood and I ended up liking of the logos, so I made them into the backpack," she shrugged. "Besides unless you’re looking at it close enough you can’t tell which is always fun to see if people pay attention to it, let’s go."

At that the six of them walked out of the apartment, away from the bakery towards the Palais de Chaillot.

"So what's so special about Andre's Ice cream?" B asked.

"Personally I think he is a meta. But what he does is he can either see your true reflection or that of the person best suited to you."

"So he sees souls?" Tim added.

"Not quite, more like he sees the main qualities of you or your go." she tapped her chin.

"But he is meta,” Tim tried to figure.

"That's the only explanation I can come up with but I have no idea." Marinette shrugged.

"So how does he do it." Tim was now fully invested in this.

"Well you either ask for love or self and he usually does three to four ice cream flavors and gives a short reason."

They were now at the top of the stairs at the Palais de Chaillot looking out at the Eiffel Tower. They stood there as the last of the light faded from the sky. The city was dark for a moment as the Eiffel Tower lit up and slowly the lamps lit up.

"So that's why this is your favorite spot Minnie." A voice behind her chuckled. She turned around and nearly tackled him.

"Hey speedy." she pecked his cheek.

Not a second later did Jason scream, "Roy!"

"Ready for that movie?” Roy asked her an arm around her shoulders.

"Of course," she smiled. "See you guys around."

"What the fuck are you doing in Paris Roy!?" Jason screamed.

"Um... Date night," he answered. The Waynes were now practically surrounding the couple.

"What?" Apparently it was Dick's turn to yell.

"Seriously. I thought you said the bats and birds were detectives." she spoke just loud enough for them to hear. "It's kinda hard to believe with the big bat having a heart attack over there." Sure enough Bruce was seriously hyperventilating.

"Oh mind giving this to LB?" He handed her a small nondescript red box.

"Sure," Marinette took the box, "Au Revoir."

From there they left and oh kwamii did she wish she could replay that again, oh wait I can.

Next

~~~~~~~~~~

Permanent Taglist: @itsmeevie01 @miraculouspenta

Taglist: @dolphin-ghost @unabashedbookworm @bookgirl14 @laurcad123 @mochegato @vixen-uchiha @jjmjjktth @deathwishy @toodaloo-kangaroo @stackofrandomstuff @megaafangirl @trippingovermyfeet @chocolatecatstheron @nathleigh @nyx-in-line @indecisive-mess-named-me @ichigorose @maribat-is-lifeblood @user00000003 @gimpedmercy @el-zabethh @mickylikesstuff @a4-machete @stainedglassm @greatcatblaze @lady-bee-fechin @adrestar @moonlightstar64 @corporeal-terrestrial

[gumnut-logic]

Escapee (Part Two and End)

From here.

This has been on my WIP list far too long for a tiny short, so I’ve finished it off and am now dumping it here and running. Quality is questionable. 2267 words.

I’ve posted this piece of art with it because screenshots lack hugs. I need to draw more hugs :D

I hope you enjoy it ::hugs you all::

-o-o-o-

Virgil woke with a headache and a foul taste in his mouth.

The obvious smells of the infirmary alerted him to where he was, and even this deep in the mountain, he could hear the storm still raging outside.

He groaned. Damned cyclone. Two was going to need a full overhaul after that landing.

Landing.

Memory tracked him approaching Tracy Island, desperate to get home before the cyclone hit, but sure that Two could handle the conditions. After all, she had tackled much worse on many an occasion.

But there was a blank. He didn’t remember landing and all his memory could supply was a jumbled mess of terror.

“Scott!” He sat straight up in bed, his heart suddenly racing, thudding in his chest, absolutely terrified. What had happened to his brothers?

Hands grabbed him and, for a split second, that fear multiplied as he realised his own hands were tied down and he couldn’t free them.

“Virgil! You’re safe. You’re home. You’re safe.” Scott’s voice, panicked and desperate. A pair of worried blue eyes and Virgil latched onto them. A moment of stillness, recognition. He was in the infirmary. Scott had him. He was okay.

God, his head hurt.

“Scott?”

A tentative hopeful smile. “You with me, Virg?”

“Uh, yeah.” He pulled at his arms, looking down to find his wrists strapped with medical restraints. His left arm was swathed in bandages and was complaining. A frown. “What happened?”

Scott stepped back a little, but his hands didn’t leave Virgil’s shoulders. “You had a bit of a rough landing. Two did her best, but you got a bit shook up.”

Landing.

He searched his memory. Still nothing. No specifics, just a haze. But this wasn’t the first time he had hit his head...because he had obviously hit his head because he couldn’t remember the incident. “What’s the damage?”

“You have some electrical burns and bruising.”

“Not me, Thunderbird Two!”

His brother’s shoulders dropped and he sat back, rolling his eyes just a little. His brother radiated such a sense of relief. “Virg...” But there was a hitch in Scott’s voice. “Two is fine. A bit of strain to her superstructure, one wheel had to be replaced. Brains was concerned about her electrical systems, but he said it was mostly a replace and patch up job. He’s already repaired the dash.”

“The dash?!” What the hell happened?

“Hey, relax. She’s good. As far as we can tell it was a freak accident. A combination of lightning and a shielding failure. You hit the runway hard and an electrical arc took out you and half the dash.”

Virgil stared at his brother. “Are you sure she’s okay?”

Scott frowned at him, all humour gone. “Virgil, I don’t care about Two. I only care about you. It was...close. You scared us.”

Virgil blinked, the terror making a sudden return, swirling in the back of his mind. “What happened?”

Scott sighed. “You’re okay, just as much as your ‘bird. Grandma knows what she is doing.”

Another blink. “Grandma? Where is she?” He looked around the room as if expecting her to suddenly pop out of the shadows.

“She’s resting.”

Another thought hit him. “Gordon! Where’s Gordon?”

Scott frowned at him. “Gordon’s fine.”

“But the Landing...” He trailed off. His memory refused to supply the information he needed. There was something about Gordon. Gordon getting hurt.

“He wasn’t on Two. You were alone. You were coming back from Beijing. You were delayed with another rescue in the Phillipines and it messed up your flight plan proper. Gordon was fishing a boat full of whale watchers out of the drink in Tonga.”

Virgil just stared at him.

Scott’s frown deepened. “Gordon, travelled back under the edges of the cyclone. Made it back a couple of hours before you.” The hands on his shoulders squeezed gently. “Virg, what is it?”

“Why am I strapped down?” The fear was becoming a physical thing. His memory was blank, but something had happened. His neurons may not have recorded the information, but his body was on edge. Something other than falling out of the sky.

It hit him like a slap to the face as the facts all came together. The strain on Scott’s face, the fear in his own heart, the restraints, the memory loss... Quiet words echoing the terror welling inside. “What did I do?”

Scott’s stiffening gave it all away. The flicker of fear in his brother’s eyes that echoed Virgil’s own.

“Scott, what did I do?!”

“You were medicated. It wasn’t your fault.”

“Scott!” Why the hell didn’t he just tell him?

The door slipped open and a strawberry blond head poked through. “Virg! You’re awake!” Gordon bounded into the room, a grinning Alan following him in.

The aquanaut thumbed his comms. “John, he’s awake.”

The FAB at the other end of the line was curt, but a moment later his tall and lanky brother slipped in behind them.

Virgil stared, his aching head not quite able to keep up with the sudden change in audience.

Alan had his left arm in a sling. When had that happened? Again, his memory refused to supply the requested information. He resisted the urge to swear.

“Will someone please tell me what happened?” He was almost embarrassed by the desperate plea in his voice...almost.

All four brothers froze, three of them turning to Scott as if awaiting direction. Virgil looked from one to the other and back again. “Guys?!” He rattled the restraints like that guy out of Dicken’s ‘A Christmas Carol’ rattled his chains.

And immediately regretted it when Alan’s eyes latched onto them. The expression on his littlest brother’s face flashed worry.

“Allie?”

Alan startled and Virgil’s already thudding heart upped its pace another notch as clues began to slot together.

“Allie, how did you break your arm?” No, please, no.

“Virgil-“

“Scott!” He glared at his brother before turning back to Alan. “Are you okay?”

The worry on Alan’s face vanished and he shrugged as if the sling was nothing. “I’m cool. You’re the one we’re worried about.” He strode up to the end of Virgil’s bed and dumped himself on it. “Are you feeling better?”

There was so much hope in those blue eyes.

Virgil blinked. He really wished his head would stop hurting.

Enunciated very clearly. “Can someone please tell me what happened?” An unsteady breath as his eyes latched onto Alan again. “Did I hurt you?”

The restraints bit at his wrists as he clenched his fists.

Alan’s eyes darted to Virgil’s hands in echo of that earlier flash of emotion before his little brother threw up the same cheerful façade he did during rescues.

Virgil’s heart broke.

Alan reached out, a soft smile on his face as his fingers landed on Virgil’s leg, the bed covers relaying his little brother’s touch. “I’m good, Virg. You didn’t know what you were doing.”

“I hurt you.” The words scraped past his larynx as Virgil’s eyes latched onto the sling holding his little brother’s arm safe.

Alan waved it away. “Eh, you just proved a point. I need to spend some more time with Kayo.” He smiled just a little. “You know how to kick ass when you want to. Note taken. Don’t get in your way when you’re determined.” An impish grin. “Didn’t think you had it in you.”

“I-“ He knew Alan meant well, but every word… he struggled against his restraints. He desperately wanted to reach out and hold his brother, reassure himself, provide comfort, but…his chains rattled.

It was Gordon who acted. “Hey, Virg, it’s okay.” A hand on his shoulder for just a moment before his aquanaut brother was fiddling with the strap holding down Virgil’s arm. “I can see that hug machine grinding gears.”

Scott was fiddling with the fastenings on Virgil’s other wrist.

“No, not the hug machine!” It was comical on Alan’s part as he flailed dramatically at the end of the bed, but it was in such contrast to the distress in Virgil’s heart…

Then his hands were free and he was reaching for his little brother. “Allie!”

Perhaps he feared rejection in Alan’s eyes, but as the young astronaut flew into his arms without hesitation, Virgil was overwhelmed with a mixture of gratitude and love.

“It’s okay, Virg. I promise.” It was muffled into his shoulder.

Virgil only squeezed tighter, his left arm pulling at whatever he had done to it. Blond strands fluttered as he breathed into his brother’s hair.

“Sorry.” Hoarse.

“Is okay.” One thin arm tightened around him even tighter and it squeezed moisture out of his eyes.

He clung to his little brother for a long moment, but questions still needed answers.

As Alan eventually pulled away, blue eyes looked up at him and smiled. As far as Alan was concerned, he was obviously forgiven.

But Virgil didn’t think he could ever forgive himself.

And he still didn’t know what had happened. His eyes skipped to Scott, then Gordon and finally John.

John.

Virgil’s eyes narrowed as they focussed on his space brother. “Tell me.”

“Virg-“ Scott placed a hand on his arm again.

Virgil shook it off and kept his eyes on John. “Tell me!”

Aquamarine gauged him, flickered to Scott and back. “You had an adverse reaction to medication. Grandma tried a new combination as you weren’t responding well to your usual dose. It worked. However, an unforeseen side effect was paranoia. You fled the infirmary in what appears to be an escape attempt from the Island and headed down to Thunderbird Two.” John’s eyes were kind. “Alan got in your way. He claims you picked him up with one hand and threw him across the room. Hence the broken arm.”

Virgil turned to stare at his little brother who shrugged. “You were right. You can pick me up with one hand.”

Fingers tightened on Virgil’s arm, but he was beyond identifying who they belonged to as he turned back to John. Quietly. “There’s more.” It wasn’t a question.

John tilted his head a little. “Then Scott got in your way. You were determined that he was an enemy. Either the Chaos Crew or the Hood himself, because you blamed him for Gordon’s injuries earlier in the year.”

“John.” Scott’s tone was sharp.

The space monitor turned to the commander. “He needs to know.”

Virgil couldn’t take his eyes off his tall, red-headed brother. Those aquamarine eyes turned back to him. “You attacked Scott. Gordon took you out with a tranquilliser gun.”

Virgil stared. A lump in his throat welled up. “Thank you, John.”

His brother’s lips curled up into the faintest of smiles and he nodded once, but didn’t say anything further.

Virgil turned to Scott. “Are you okay?”

Eyes were rolled at him for his efforts. “As if you could take me your best day, Virg. Are you kidding me?” All smirking confidence.

Virgil raked his brother with his gaze, almost wishing he could medically scan him with his eyeballs.

He turned back to John. “Is he okay?”

A disgusted sound from Scott almost obliterated John’s smiling words. “He’s fine. Maybe a few bruises. That’s all.”

“John!”

John turned to Scott. “You want to try and hide medical issues from Virgil? He’ll worry himself sick and then find out anyway. Best to be upfront. For everyone’s health.”

Scott grunted and glared. “I’ll remind you of that next time you complain I’ve set Virgil on you for not sleeping.”

“That’s different.”

“Different how? Eos claimed it was a good thirty-six hours last time and you were hallucinating coffee.”

“I am old enough to make my own decisions.”

“Could have fooled me.”

“You can’t talk. You hid that bruised rib from him when you came back from San Fran two weeks ago.”

“John!”

“You’re lucky he punched you on the other side today.”

“John! For goodness sake!”

Virgil stared at both of them in shock as the ‘discussion’ blew up into a full-on argument over the bed. John stood with his arms crossed and his brow furrowed while Scott pointed fingers at him in punctuation.

Alan stared at the both of them, wide-eyed beside Virgil.

A nudge at Virgil’s other side snapped him out it.

“Both idiots, if you ask me.” Gordon was quietly grinning. He sat on the edge of the bed beside Virgil and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “Can’t hide anything from you, anyway.”

A blink. The hug was weird and voluntary, but Virgil wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

However…

“You shot me.”

“Yep.” The grinning continued, but Gordon didn’t look at him, his eyes tracking the entertainment of space monitor versus commander as they bickered.

“Thank you.”

That did draw those amber brown eyes in his direction. “You’re welcome. Any time.”

Virgil’s left arm hurt and was stiff as hell, but he lifted it awkwardly and pulled his fish brother in as best he could. There was that odd compliance again as Gordon let him do it with no protest at all.

Gordon’s hair always smelled of chlorine. It was familiar and reassuring.

“You okay?”

That earned him a snort. “My only regret is I didn’t shoot you in the butt.”

“Gordon.”

His brother sobered a little. “Honest, Virg. I’m fine. You didn’t hurt me and...” Those eyes, so like his own, fixed him where he sat. “It wasn’t your fault.”

Virgil didn’t have an answer to that so just pulled him in closer.

“Do it again and it’s the butt. I’m taking pictures.”

Virgil closed his eyes and just held on tight.

-o-o-o-

FIN.

[papa-rhys]

The Morning After (Rhys X Reader)

Note: Kind of a part 2 to Shared Empires, but can also be read separately!

Warnings: none unless you count heavy smoochin as a cardinal sin

Word count: 2000 (ish)

Just gone 6 am. It’s so early you might actually cry and the constant tick tick tick of the clock in Rhys’ bedroom is slowly pushing you over the edge, seemingly just to spite you.

             Rhys sleeps peacefully beside you, one arm draped over you. Soft snores leaving his lips, stirring up that god-awful moustache ruining his face. Not for the first time, you contemplate shaving it off while he sleeps. Or maybe setting it on fire? No, that’d probably hurt him. You watch him sleeping for a moment longer before the clock's tedious taunts begin grating on your nerves again.

             That’s it, you think, I gotta kill it.

             You sit up and gently shove the sheets off - silk, grey in colour to match the industrial metal of Rhys’ room and damn near everything else on Promethea. It’s a break from the sand and rock colours of Pandora, at least. You’ve never thought that grey could be so refreshing, but after spending a significant amount of time on a planet that literally has a place called The Dust, you’re just thankful that it’s not frigging beige.

             You have to stand on an armchair to reach the clock on Rhys’ wall and once or twice you almost fall, your legs still wobbly from sleep and the celebratory bloody mary’s you and Rhys had thrown down your necks last night. Memories surface, albeit blurry ones; Rhys’ smile, his dumb jokes landing better than usual thanks to the ethanol, hands wandering under the table while Atlas soldiers booze it up on the other side of the room.

             The clock tumbles off the wall when you smack it, vengefully, and Rhys pretty much leaves his body when it clatters to the floor. Bless him, but he looks like he might have just had an aneurysm. There’s a few moments of silence as he blinks away the fogginess, sitting up and looking around the room like he’s just been born.

             “You okay?” you ask. He nods, slightly confused. He looks like he might be trying to remember his name. “Good,” you say, holding back a giggle.

             Rhys rubs his eyes with his knuckles, digging in deep enough to spark a kaleidoscope, no doubt. He’s shirtless and his hair is a mess - his locks having dried curly and shaggy after you’d drunkenly (and totally playfully) dunked each other in the indoor fountain on the way through the lobby last night - but it suits him a lot more than his usual business getup, you think. He looks less work and more play, which is always the way to be.

             “You want some coffee for that hangover, Mr CEO?” you ask, hopping down from the armchair and landing on the metal floor, barefooted.

             “Coffee sounds amazing,” he replies, giving you a sleepy smile. He frowns when he spies you picking up the cracked remains of his clock from the floor. “What happened to my clock?” he asks.

             “I killed it.”

             “Why?”

             “It was ticking,” you say simply, flashing the object a look of disgust before heading towards the buzzer on the door and nonchalantly dropping the blasted clock into the rubbish bin on your way past. You thumb the pad on the wall beside the door and speak into the comms. “Two coffees with extra cinnamon when you’re ready, Butler Bot. Throw in a little ethanol if you’re feeling generous.”

             “I’ll be right with you!” the robotic voice complies, way too cheerfully for this hour of the morning.

             As you pad your way back over to the bed on the balls of your feet, Rhys sits at the foot of the mattress, still wrapped up in the sheets at his waist. He waits for you to approach with his arms open and you stand between his legs, the pair of you still warm and toasty with sleep. He hugs your waist and looks up at you through eyes that at least seem a little more alert now.

             “How did you end up here?” he asks as you comb his hair back from his forehead.

             “You offered to pay me otherworldly amounts of money for the rest of my life,” you reply. “And as a Vault Hunter, I’m legally and morally required to do anything for money.”

             “I mean here,” he clarifies, smiling. “In my bed. With one of my shirts on.”

             You look up at the ceiling, pressing a finger to your chin under the pretence of searching for an answer. A hum and a shake of the head draws Rhys’ smile up even further at the corners. “Can’t think of any reason in particular,” you say. “Maybe it’s just your dashing wit.”

             “And my wonderful fashion sense,” he says, straightening a little.

             “The alcohol helped, too.”

             Rhys pulls you in against him and you topple, the pair of you landing with a bouncy thwump on the mattress. You giggle and sigh while he places a few strategic kisses on your throat and the sweet tickling of that bloody ‘stache is the one and only thing worth keeping it around for. Lord knows the pash rash down under makes a good argument for shaving it off, though. Eugh.

             Rhys rolls sideways and you land beside him with his arm draped over you once again. It seems like you’ve spent the last 48 hours doing anything but moving - the whole time, you’ve been hanging off him like the punters at the bar hang off Moxxi. He hasn’t seemed to mind so far. His eyes haven’t left you in a solid three weeks. If you didn’t find him so innocently charming, then you’d probably have shot him in the face by now, in all honesty.

             “We can stay here all day if you want,” he mumbles quietly, only a hairbreadth away.

             “Screw the war and let them take Promethea?” you say. 

             Rhys props his head up on his hand and leans over you. “Well,” he says, shrugging, “we could always save the planet tomorrow instead. I am the CEO of Atlas, you know. I can pretty much do what I want.”

             “That sounds like a very shady way of looking at it.” 

             You smile, but it’s tinged with sadness. You both know letting Maliwan and the bloody Children of The Corn take over Promethea isn’t on the cards. Hell, it isn’t even written on the throw-aways. If this damn war weren’t raging overhead, then you and Rhys would have all the time you wanted. But alas, it is. Another villain taking up your time, another stranger who needs your help, another wrong that needs to be righted. 

             “I can stay until noon,” you tell him, craning your neck to deliver a swift and equally sweet kiss to his lips. “But then I have to go. You know how it is.”

             “Yeah,” he sighs, tracing circles around the edge of the button on your borrowed shirt. “I know. I just hate that we can’t spend enough time together.”

             You push up onto your elbows and sit up, gaining height on him (for once) and revelling in the way he looks up at you with that sparkle in his eyes. That sparkle comes when he watches you do two things; when you kill and when you boss him around. You’re beginning to think he has a little bit of a fetish for those two things and you’re not so certain which one is stranger.

             With a pointed finger tip pressed to his chest, you push him down further into the mattress and swing a leg over him, straddling his waist. “Why, Mr CEO, you should know that it’s not about the amount of time spent,” you tell him, summoning the most painfully flirtatious tone that drips off your tongue with each word. You lean down and he watches you with those wide sparkling eyes, hardly believing his luck. “It’s about what you do with it,” you add.

             Rhys swallows, the pounding in his chest visible. He doesn’t get a word out before you kiss him, but you doubt he’d be much more than speechless anyway. A few second of waiting for a response would have probably only earned you a little drool and a murmur that you imagine would have sounded a lot like “murrmuhnuhnuh?”

             The kiss is all kinds of lovely now that last night’s booze has mostly worn off and you pray to the Maker that Butler Bot doesn’t interrupt with that coffee. In an ideal world, it would conveniently take him the next two hours to prepare those piping hot cups of bean water, but realistically you know you have a little over five minutes before he comes zooming in with a tray in hand, offering cheery commentary on your sexual performance. Robots don’t have a grasp on social etiquette. 

             Still, you can’t quite bring yourself to stop Rhys from flipping you over, despite the embarrassment that is surely on the way up the stairs this very moment.

             Rhys breaks the kiss, hovering over you with your legs wrapped around his waist. “Is this okay?” he asks, that cute, bumbly nervousness creeping in. “This is what you want, right?”

             You smile up at him, pearly whites on show. He returns the smile even though you haven’t given him an answer yet. Bless him, he really likes you.

             “This is exactly what I want,” you tell him. “But if you’d be a doll and hurry up before Butler Bot barges in with those coffees, that’d be amazing.”

             He leans down and gets right back to it, laying down kisses like they’re landmines in a field of Eridium clusters. There’s no way in hell that something that feels this good is legal. Or even morally sound. You’ve gotten a lot of kicks in your time but this is on another level. You're a tad bit lightheaded, only it feels good, not dangerous. The thumping in your rib cage thrums through your ears, too, and your breath comes quick and heavy. All of this feels a little bit like heaven, if you’re honest - not that you’d ever get up there after all the things you’ve done for money. Still, you can afford to enjoy this little taste of it, right?

             You lose your fingers in the hair at the back of Rhys’ head and grip the slightest bit tighter when his hand squeezes your thigh. His whiskers tickle at your collar bone as he leaves his kisses across your chest. You can tell that some of them will have left hickies in their wake come tonight and you look forward to wearing them on the battlefield. There’s something deliciously petty about letting Maliwan and those COV losers know that you still have the time to get laid in between putting them under the dirt.

             Rhys comes up to take a breather, his cheeks pink and breath slightly laboured. “This is more than just good fun, right?” he asks.

             You tilt your head to one side, trying to pin his meaning. Watching his breaths come and go, stirring up that moustache, you speak. “What do you mean?”

             “I mean you’re… you’re waaaay cooler than me and I - I just figure maybe you’re just having fun while you’re on the job and I was just hoping that maybe it’s more than just… that.” He swallows between breaths. “Is it?”

             A slow smile creeps up to the corners of your eyes and you reach a hand up to smooth out his dumb frigging moustache that you’re shamefully beginning to like. In a weird, love/hate kinda way. “If I wanted fun, I definitely wouldn’t be fighting yet another corporate war on a planet in the arse end of the galaxy,” you say. “I think I could find better ways to get my kicks if that’s what I was looking for.”

             “And that means…”

             You cup his face with both hands. “It means I like you, you idiot,” you giggle. “For reasons that may never be known.”

             Rhys grins like a Rakkshire Cat and that sparkle is back to twinkling in his eyes with a hot vengeance. He leans down and presses his lips to yours once, twice, three times. And with a soft sigh, you flop your arms onto the mattress on either side of you and let the moment take you.

[lesrevesdeprovence]

Indecent lyrics

Universe: Idol AU 

Genre: fluff 

Characters: Jane (OC), Jaehyun, M (briefly). Mentions of Tara (OC) and Mark

Word count: 2,2 k

*Part of the larger world and multiple AU stories, but you can read it on its own. If you have questions, the private messages and asks are open. 

“So…” Jane said as she led the ash-blond man through the doorway of her new favorite local spot. It was a cold November day, so Jane silently cursed herself, wondering what kind of stupid idea was crossing her mind when she picked her outfit that morning. On days like those, it was painfully obvious how much of a Provençal girl Jane Durand was. No one in London wore a —mini— skirt suit, stockings, and a silk paper-thin blouse on a winter day. Or at least not any Londoner.

Jane sighed in content when a blast of warm air-kissed the skin of her face, the atmosphere as cozy and welcoming as ever. Granted, she had only been in this particular place a few times —all of them to plot how to get Minah and that Sungjae guy she liked together—, but she was already in love with the familiarity and comfort of M’s coffee shop. Not to mention its private ambiance, which was the main reason she had dragged Jaehyun there as soon as his superstar idol group landed in London for a packed week of concerts and promotions.

“So, what?” Jaehyun asked, the slightest sight of a smirk forming as he reached to grab her hand. It was probably the simplest of the gestures, but it made Jane hold in an enamored sigh as they strolled past several tables, turning eyes on them. As per usual, Jaehyun and his chiseled Korean pop-star features, sleek jawline and perfectly tousled hair attracted attention effortlessly. And there was no doubt as to why. Jaehyun was dashing even while clad in casual attire. A checkered Comme des Garçons blazer fit on his upper body while tight black jeans captured every curve of his muscled thighs. The look was appalling to Jane after barely seeing him at all for weeks that appeared to be bazillion years.

“Start explaining how this-” Jane recomposed herself and made a pause to signal him to sit at a nearby table. Then, she pointed at the screen of her phone “…happened?” She completed the question scrunching up her nose in something that resembled disgust, which undoubtedly misplaced Jaehyun because all his eyes could take in was Jane’s music app; his group’s latest track on pause.

“We have a new Recording Company in the States?” The guy ventured, not quite sure he was getting her question. After all, his “girlfriend” —who also happened to be his group’s international PR assistant—, was the first person to inform him, a couple of weeks ago, that their next schedule included a trip to L.A. and the recording of a full English track.

“I know that, silly.” Jane scoffed rolling eyes and placing her mint-colored Chiquito bag on the table quite dramatically. “And that was not my question”

“Then?” Jaehyun came next to her and pulled out a chair before sitting across the table.

“I meant the substitute indecent lyrics everybody is talking about right now!” She said tapping her phone and the dozens of notifications showing on the top of the screen. “Twitter is going off”

“Hey! They are not indecent lyrics!” The man complained and pouted offended, his antics so cute that they painfully reminded Jane of that popular homemade video of an 11-year-old Jaehyun, speaking nonsense English that included phrases of the likes of “I just want some milk” or “Be quiet, don’t cry”.  She laughed thinking how “They are not indecent lyrics” would surely fit that list along with his signature “It’s just a kiss” that in reality was a meaningful subtext because it always ended up with them losing track of time in some obscure corner of the guys’ rented home in St. James.

Jane made a mental note to add the new phrase to Jaehyun’s book of nonsense English.

“Sweetie, the whole thing went from “As if nothing had happened on your way. Go easy. Keep on” to “Baby, you a bad girl, watch your mouth” and “I love how your body feels on me”. Jane explained, keeping her tone unwavering.

“Oh! I see what you mean” Jaehyun’s eyebrow went up and his lips slowly turned into a devilish smile “But they are not indecent lyrics unless you are a dirty-minded person” He retorted naturally, leaning back on the chair and crossing his arms over the chest. His smirk becoming more distinctive under the dim lights of the café.

“You’re speaking as though you had no idea of how dirty-minded I can-“ Jane stopped midway when she realized Jaehyun was grinning a bit too much, looking pleased and causing a pair of cute dimples to form on his cheeks. It was that distinctive look he gave her whenever he wanted to brag about something, but this time it almost looked as though he knew something she didn’t. “Oh God-“ Jane turned her head just on time to see M uncomfortably touching his nape, looking turned in between not knowing what to do and feeling flat-out embarrassed.

“Are you ready to order?” M stood few steps away, taller than Jane remembered him to be, with his ever friendly kilowatt smile and those square shoulders that made him appear more imposing than his warm personality alone would’ve ever allowed him to be.

“Hey, Jane, nice to see you.” Jane mimicked what was supposed to be M greeting her on any normal day, although she had to accept her voice was nothing like his. Nevertheless, it made M laugh briefly and his cheeks to slightly flush.

“I’m sorry, I just didn’t mean to interrupt" the man responded with a simple wave and a gracious smile on his face, dimples in full view.

“Oh, come on! That’s ridiculous” Jane rolled eyes and scoffed playfully. “You’re not interrupting anything, we were just-“

“I’ll get an ice-Americano” Jaehyun blurted out of the blue. It earned him a confused look from both M and Jane. Then, he cleared his throat in an obvious attempt to remind Jane of his presence.

“Oh, I’m sorry. This is my friend, M and this is his coffee shop” Jane made a small hand gesture, signaling M. Jaehyun only nodded, acknowledging his presence before asking the routine question.

“What does the “M” stand for?”

“Mystery” Jane said almost automatically “It’s a well-kept secret he refuses to disclose, but that’s irrelevant.” Jane interrupted M before he could even begin to explain it himself “Anyway, this is Jaehyun.” Jane moved on, trying to avoid more questions from the blonde man and knowing perfectly well that he was waiting to be introduced. “A friend”

The offhanded way in which she used the word “friend” made Jaehyun frown. It sounded to him the roughly equivalent to “some guy I barely know and have no particular ties to”, but he pushed those thoughts away before Jane could examine his expression closely.

“Nice to meet you,” The two men said almost in unison. An awkward silence followed afterward, but Jane was quick enough to break it with the cute antics she reserved for when she was in the presence of men. She tilted her head, put a finger over her lips and moved it up and down pretending to contemplate her options.

“And I’ll get my usual order,” She said finally.

“Irish coffee with only 1 cm of cream. Be right back” Without further exchange M walked away and disappeared behind the counter seconds later.

Jaehyun remained silent, waiting for Jane to pick up the conversation right where they had left it. There was something he couldn’t point at that made him sulk childishly, so he reached the pocket of his jacket and pulled out his phone. His group’s latest track had been released only a few hours ago and although that was not the right the moment or place, he distracted his mind by swiping at the screen and scrolling down his Twitter feed.

“Ice Americano?” Jane raised a brow and outstretched her hand over the table to hold Jaehyun’s, momentarily diverting his attention away from his phone. “It’s freezing outside, you’re going to get sick.”

Jaehyun held Jane’s hand, the corner of his lip raising faintly “Are you worried about me?”

“Jaehyun, you have three interviews and a concert tomorrow! You can’t get sick” Jane said, suddenly frowning seriously at him. 

“Oh, yeah, right” The man quietly went back to his phone after releasing Jane’s hand. Knowing that it was her work that claimed her thoughts and not him, made him scowl and remained silent until their order came and Jane brought up the topic of Mark’s love issues and how Tara didn’t seem willing to spend Christmas in New York with him and the rest of the group. Then, Jaehyun’s scowl was replaced by a slight indication of concern in his brows.

“You girls are way too complicated” He blurted, barely registering the words he had just pronounced.

“Ohhh, is that so?” Jane’s eyes squint just slightly, a soft smile creeping onto her lips. 

“Yes,” He nodded solemnly  “I see it this way, Tara broke up with Mark, and what was the reason? I don’t know, she just said she was losing herself in their relationship.” Jaehyun picked his drink and gave it a long sip, probably expecting Jane to say something, but at her lack of response, he went on “Then she gets caught going out with that one guy she repeatedly claimed she disliked and now that they are apparently back together she doesn’t want to spend Christmas with him. Does that make sense?” Jaehyun said that last bit rolling eyes.

“Ok, can you stop projecting on Tara and Mark and tell me what is bothering you? Because honestly, I feel you have something to say” She raised a brow to mask her amusement. To be honest, Jane knew perfectly well what the problem was and why Jaehyun was acting like someone had deeply wounded his ego, but she still had to ask the question.

“I just don’t get why we couldn’t stay home with a bottle of La Romanée Grand Cru.” He groaned “The boys all went out, so we had the house all for ourselves” Jaehyun folded his arms over his chest and leaned back on the chair again. He almost looked like some sulking kid who had been denied a piece of cake.

“You seemed perfectly fine just a few minutes a-“ Jane’s speech was interrupted when Jaehyun let out a loud sigh, eyes dark as he glared at something behind her.

“You introduced me as a friend, Jane. That’s what’s bothering me” He said, eyes locking with hers. This time his lips didn’t show any sign of that signature mischievous smile of his. Instead, they were pressed into a thin line.

“Jaehyun, are you serious just now?” Jane’s eyes landed on him, training on his face for a few seconds before speaking again. “I work for your company, you know I can’t go around flaunting our relationship to everybody.”

“Is that so or are you probably trying to keep your options open? Honestly, I get it, we don’t get to spend a lot of time together, but-“

“Shhhh. That’s about enough” Jane cut him off before he said add another word. “Let’s just finish this” She said pointing at their drinks “And then we can go home. We still have a lot of time before the guys go back home and I’m positively freezing, so I need a new outfit”

A doubtful expression set on Jaehyun’s face for only a second before his lips cracked into a small smile, eyes forming into crescents as he nodded.

“You are such a simple-minded man, Jung Jaehyun…” Jane shook her head

“For the record, I did like the coffee and I actually love the outfit” The man reached out for Jane’s hand and laced their fingers together.

“Thanks, it’s Carven” She hummed before taking a sip from the cup resting in front of her.

“I don’t care about the brand as long as I can get it off you when we get home,” Jaehyun said, picking his own drink and gulping it down in a matter of seconds.

“Jaehyun…” Jane gaped at him

“What? I was just hot” Jaehyun shrugged nonchalantly.

“You are going to get sick and I won’t be the one taking care of you” The woman clicked her tongue disapprovingly.

“Probably not, but you’re gonna have to take care of something else” Conveniently enough Jaehyun opened his jacket and looked at his inside pocket, taking his wallet out and picking a 20 pounds bill. Jane tried to ignore it, but the juxtaposition between the his intense stare and the relaxed smirk on his lips was driving her crazy. Even dressed in that casual attire, he kept the same energy that he held clad in those red carpet looks that his fan swooned about. It was frankly annoying.

“Ugh. You are so cheeky. It’s embarrassing.” She composed a grimace, but Jaehyun only chuckled, a wider smirk displaying on his face; his dimples even more evident on his cheeks.

“Is it me or you’re blushing?” Jaehyun teased “Only a few minutes ago you were talking this big game about showing me how dirty-minded you can be, but I guess you were only bluffing. It is such a shame.”

“Shut up, Mr-those-are-not-indecent-lyrics.” Jane’s eyes narrowed “A few minutes ago you were professing your high moral ground and called me dirty-minded for assuming the obvious about your song”

“You know what? Let’s just go.” Jaehyun placed the 20 pounds bill on the table and grabbed Jane by the arm, helping her to stand up.

“But I haven’t finished my coffee yet” She complained, pointing at the cup and its content. 

“I’ll get you another one later, with tons of cream,” Jaehyun said picking Jane’s bag “That's it, if you are a good girl, of course,” he said smirking devilishly, innuendo present in his comment, judging by the way he winked at Jane her “For now, I got some things you want to see” He added, quoting the exact lyrics from his group’s newest release in a sing-song voice

“That was one fine way to ruin such a beautiful and meaningful song” Jane rolled eyes as she allowed Jaehyun to drag her out the coffee shop.

:::

[kiruuuuu]

I don’t expect he would, anon! :) Thanks for the cute prompt ♥ (Rating G, fluff, ~1.1k words)

.

“It’s bad in there”, Tachanka reports over comms, “we can try to rush them. Not really a refined strategy but they’re no match for us in close combat.”

“I can throw a smoke and create a diversion, make them think we’re coming from another direction”, Glaz answers as quietly as possible so he doesn’t give away his and Kapkan’s position. Glaz is pressed against him behind a shelf in a small alcove, awaiting orders from their chosen leader and trying not to think of the long line of Kapkan’s legs brushing his, ignoring the steady breath and piercing gaze because if he doesn’t, his focus will be invariably lost. It’s only a training exercise yet they’re expected to perform and treat it the same as an actual mission.

“Yeah, do it and let us know when”, Tachanka agrees and makes him spring into action.

He peeks around the corner and simultaneously blindly grabs for one of his grenades, tightening his grip for a second when he thinks he sees movement. No, there definitely was someone down the hallway, he’s sure of it, he caught a glimpse of -

“Glaz”, Kapkan murmurs next to him yet it doesn’t sound urgent, so he disregards it for the moment – he’s probably only going to tell him he should stay here and leave it to Kapkan to incapacitate the Frenchies, intending to steal all the glory for himself. The corridor stays empty though he remains alert, slowly pulls up the grenade in preparation. “Glaz”, Kapkan repeats, now sounding irritated for some reason and what is his problem, it’s not like he’s in any danger because then he’d sound entirely different.

“Glaz, for fuck’s sake, let go of my hand!”

Oh. He looks over and see that, indeed, he’s tightly clutching Kapkan’s hand for some reason and how did he not notice before and Kapkan’s outburst was entirely too loud so they just briefly look at each other, Glaz embarrassed and Kapkan vaguely angry, before dashing off lest they get surprised by Twitch who’s surprisingly adept at sneaking up on people.

.

“I’ve seen ballistics gel in action before, it’s really fascinating”, Rook recounts excitedly and almost hits Blitz in the face with his MP5 while waving it around a little too animatedly. “You can really see how the bullet explodes!”

“I’ve seen it too, but I don’t understand the hype behind it”, the German responds with a straight face, “when I threw my gun at it, it only wobbled a little.”

Where Glaz snorts, Rook merely rolls his eyes and jabs him between the ribs with an elbow that has Blitz chuckling to himself. “Hilarious. Can I see your pistol for a second, Glaz?”

He readily reaches out to pick up the weapon in question without tearing his gaze away from the two lovebirds who look about ready to engage in a full on tickle fight – which turns out to be a mistake. Because what he ends up touching isn’t the cool grip of his trusty pistol but rather warm fingers that come alive as soon as he grabs them, twist in his grip and then smoothly slide between his, locking in place like they belong. It’s deceptively comfortable. Glaz stares at them for a second in which he fails to process what just happened before it hits him like a truck. “What are you doing?”, he asks quietly and already feels blood rushing to his face.

Kapkan, sprawled in the chair next to him, apparently has all the time in the world to finish the conversation in which he’s currently participating before glancing at him. “This is the second time”, he tells Glaz almost reproachfully, “if you want to hold my fucking hand so badly, here you go.” Glaz attempts to withdraw which only prompts Kapkan to hold on more firmly. “I’m not letting you go, don’t even think about it. You did this to yourself.” And with that, he seamlessly joins Tachanka and Fuze again who are chortling in their mother tongue and seemingly paying no heed to the fact that the other two Spetsnaz operators are literally holding hands. It’s not even hidden, it’s in plain sight on the tabletop and Glaz’ cheeks are on fire.

So he’s forced to hand Rook his gun with the other hand and then attempt to follow their quick banter which becomes absolutely and one hundred percent impossible when Kapkan’s thumb starts stroking the back of his hand.

.

They run into each other on base, Kapkan’s expression slightly panicked and Glaz’ confused until he hears the distant rumbling of an incoming thunderstorm. Tachanka quite obviously is in a rotten mood today, has already thrown things and almost destroyed a door by kicking it, so it’s best not to cross his path at all. “We need to leave”, Kapkan tells him to which he’s inclined to agree, and suddenly there are fingers encircling his wrist and dragging him along. They seek refuge in a tiny supply room, holding their breath and waiting for the tornado outside to pass.

While stomping footsteps ominously approach them, Glaz notices that Kapkan is still clutching his lower arm, warm skin on his, an almost possessive grip that’s starting to become uncomfortable. It’s hard to tell whether it’s on accident or on purpose, though Glaz decides to test it out by wriggling a little. Kapkan continues to cling to him and even clasps him more tightly. Interesting.

Just before Tachanka is right outside their door, Glaz murmurs: “Do it properly.” He shakes his arm lightly and now Kapkan’s finger loosen, travel lower, interlace with his and the fluid gesture turns his knees into pudding and involuntarily has him reach out to take hold of Kapkan’s other hand. The whole situation is awkward, both of them avoiding each other’s gaze and yet they both refuse to let go. In silence, they wait until resounding footsteps have faded into the distance and then, following a virtually imperceptible twitch from one of them (though both would claim it was the other one), they break apart. Even in the dim light falling through the undersized window, he can make out the blush on Kapkan’s cheeks.

Since Glaz doesn’t know what to do, isn’t trained on proper etiquette after holding hands with your crush like an idiot, the best course of action seems to flee. He bursts out of the room right into Thatcher who eyes the both of them curiously and of course it had to be him. He’s not going to miss their bashfulness. “Oh. What were you two doing in there?”, he asks unapologetically.

“Nothing”, Glaz replies hastily.

But Kapkan adds, a little quieter: “Nothing I wouldn’t do again.”

And Thatcher just raises a brow at the sudden smile that appears on Glaz’ face.

[writesandramblings]

The Captain’s Secret - p.78

“We Get What We Deserve”

A/N: This chapter concludes the events of episode 10, "Despite Yourself," and continues with the events of episode 11, "The Wolf Inside."

Full Chapter List Part 1 - Objects in Motion << 77 - Hook Line and Sinker  79 - People They Come Together >>

The brig on the ISS Shenzhou was exactly as Lorca remembered it. The three agony booths, the crackle of torture devices, the unending screams. Two of the booths were occupied. The third had been emptied for Lorca, its former occupant shunted over to the containment pen to sit and enjoy what little respite the too-bright lights of the pen offered.

"Only the finest agonizer booth reserved for the treacherous Lorca," Connor announced. Lorca resigned himself to step inside it. At least the booth had been sanitized recently. The only thing worse than getting into an agony booth was getting into one that was already drenched in someone else's urine.

"Absolutely not," said Burnham.

Connor and Lorca turned towards Burnham, Lorca's alarm evident on his face. Was she trying to spare him this? That was a mercy Terrans did not give. Connor was equally confused.

Burnham's response to this silent question was to shout. Not the kind of calm, commanding, scathingly dangerous tone that would have shut Connor down completely, but a shout that just seemed to be for the sake of shouting. There was a forced insincerity to it. "What did I say to you! I do not want some overzealous guard killing him before I have the chance. I would punish the entire ship for an error that grave!"

Lorca winced. He probably should have told Burnham what agony booths were, but he could not explain to her how he knew; the booths were so ubiquitous they did not merit definition in the rebel data core. It also felt like there was a plaintive note of desperation in her voice. Not only did it remind him yet again she was not his Michael, it might spell their downfall if she failed to convince the Shenzhou's crew of her strength.

"We would never allow him the release of death, captain," Connor assured her.

"See to it that he is installed properly here," Burnham said, addressing the brig security chief and Tyler, and still sounding entirely too unconfident. Thankfully, she finally hit her stride. "I need to access my files. Escort me to the ready room." She strode away with Connor.

The brig commander issued some quick orders. Double-check the monitoring systems, set low thresholds for the alarms that warned when someone was entering potentially deadly distress. (Alarms which were usually turned off. People sentenced to spend time in agony booths were typically expendable.)

Lorca was mildly annoyed by this result. He did not need to be coddled where agony booths were concerned. He also noticed Tyler seemed slightly dazed and decided the best thing to do was also the thing that came most naturally to him.

"Well, now that it's just us chickens, who’s up for a little mutiny? I'll make it worth your while." He smirked. He received only silent glares in response, but it was his way of signaling to Tyler that everything was fine.

Tyler’s expression showed no sign of reassurance at the joke. He looked as dazed as before. Lorca's eyebrows knit in momentary concern. Tyler's head was not in the game. He needed Tyler in the game more than ever because he was counting on Tyler to protect Burnham.

The security chief came and removed his restraints, then shoved him backwards into the booth. Lorca smirked at her. "Maybe you'd like to come in here, too? I can show you a good—" He never finished. The door clicked shut and the booth turned on and he screamed as his skin seemed to light on fire with electricity. Every nerve, every synapse lit up with pain. He had to fight to keep his hands from clawing at his face—that was a rookie mistake where agony booths were concerned, and he was no rookie. As he screamed and screamed and screamed, he forgot all about Tyler.

Connor picked up on the flaws in Burnham's performance. Even if he had not, her demise was the only way for him to keep his captaincy of the Shenzhou. He came at her in the turbolift between the brig and the bridge. Burnham was forced to defend herself, stabbing him with his own knife and feeling a rising panic as his eyes went wide at the realization that his life was ending.

It was the second time Burnham had watched him die, and even though Connor had tried to kill her, it felt as horrible as the first. When the turbolift doors opened and his lifeless body spilled out onto the bridge, the crew assembled there began to applaud. Crew with familiar faces: Kayla Detmer, currently Discovery's helmsman and formerly helmsman of the USS Shenzhou, standing as the ISS Shenzhou's first officer. Around her, Weetan, Januzzi, Gant—officers Burnham had served with and known for years, but complete strangers as they applauded Connor's death.

She was glad for the solitude of the ready room and equally saddened by it. It had the same dimensions and layout as the ready room of the USS Shenzhou. She and Captain Georgiou had spent so many hours in there, planning missions and reporting to Starfleet and reviewing ship operations. This room was different, darker, and decorated to be faintly menacing, but it was familiar all the same.

That was the worst thing, she decided as she scanned for the Defiant files. Everything here felt familiar yet wrong, like looking at yourself in an unmirrored photograph.

She found the files. There was a problem. The data was massive, encrypted, and behind a formidable firewall. It could not be transmitted off the ship undetected.

After dealing with general ship matters and receiving a comprehensive update on the Shenzhou's status, Burnham retired for the night into the captain's quarters. It was a relief when Tyler contacted her on the comms. "How's the captain?" she asked.

She could hear Tyler exhale heavily. "It was... horrible. He's hanging in there..."

The captain was not her only concern. She could only imagine how that scene had looked to Tyler after surviving Klingon prison for seven months. Her voice softened. "How are you?"

"I wish I were with you."

Burnham wished that, too. "We should keep a low profile for now." Talking was some comfort, so they did that for a few minutes and then Burnham slept as best she could in a bed that was not her own on a ship where it felt like the shadows were filled with daggers.

In the morning, she beelined for the brig. She could hear the screams from the hallway. The first thing she saw when the doors opened was Lorca in the same agony booth as the day before.

Burnham addressed the brig commander. "I want to speak to the prisoner. Alone. Clear out this rabble." It was a fierce, determined voice, entirely what it needed to be. If Lorca had been aware enough to hear it, he would have described it as steel and approved entirely.

"As you command, captain," said the brig commander. She rounded up the brig's other occupants with brutal efficiency and herded them away, the brig guards following. Burnham and Lorca were alone but the room was still filled with the sounds of Lorca's screaming. It was a different scream than Tyler had observed the day previous; lower, hoarser, more of a keening than a full-throated sound.

Burnham went to the brig console and found the command to turn off the booth. Lorca's voice terminated into a gasp and he sank down in the booth with exhausted relief. Burnham dashed over and opened the door.

Lorca looked up at her, breathing heavily. "Oh," he said, and managed to swallow. "It's you." He closed his eyes and relaxed, his breaths leveling out into a slow, even rhythm.

Burnham crouched down and tried to help him up, but he waved her off.

"Just... give me a minute."

He seemed utterly exhausted. "Were you in here all night?"

Lorca gave a snort of amusement. "Is it morning already?"

Burnham stared. How could they keep someone in this state for such prolonged periods? "Sir, at this rate, I'm uncertain how much more of this you can take." The stress alone seemed potentially fatal.

"Ah, they pull you out when you lose consciousness," he told her, managing a smile. "I just haven’t yet. Guess I'm made of pretty strong stuff." It was a point of personal pride. He could go longer in an agony booth than almost anybody.

He motioned for Burnham to help him up. He stood up straight and tall and stepped out of the booth, rotating his shoulders to ease the stiffness out of them. Noting Burnham's continued look of concern, Lorca offered, "I'm fine. Good thing I skipped breakfast. Hate to embarrass myself the way some others have." He looked over at the adjacent booths. That was another rookie mistake. The smell in the brig really was abominable. "I think I'll use this opportunity to avail myself of the facilities if you don't mind."

She turned her back while he did. The containment pen seemed to have no privacy settings. Apparently even that simple courtesy was beyond Terrans.

"I'm truly sorry about this, captain. If I could get you out of here without arousing suspicion, I would."

Lorca was touched by the concern but shrugged it off as he returned to the central section of the brig. "I've been through worse."

It was hard to imagine what was worse than this. "The Klingons?"

"If you like," said Lorca dismissively. Burnham realized her guess was wrong.

"The Buran," she tried again.

Lorca looked at her calmly. "I know pain, Michael," he said. "I think we both do. Whatever this is..." He gestured at the agony booth. "It doesn't compare to that."

Her parents. He was talking about the death of her parents. Burnham felt a small well of sympathy she had thought buried with the memory of her parents' deaths long ago.

Seeing that sympathy, Lorca smiled. It was good to know, under all that Vulcan nonsense, she was still as human as he was. He treasured that right now, because for a moment, he felt like he was looking at a different Michael Burnham.

Some part of him wanted to reach out, embrace her the way he had embraced the woman whose face she shared, but he knew better. There was no pretending his Michael was anything other than dead and, in more ways than he could express, this Burnham was not her. He was simply grateful that the universe had provided him opportunity to see her again.

"Sir, I have an update on the Defiant files..."

There she was, all-business Burnham. Right on cue. He listened to the update with mild agitation. When she was done, he said, "I know you can do this. Keep at it. The sooner we get those files back to Discovery, the sooner you and I can both get out of here." There was an easy answer to getting the files but he could not tell it to her because, again, how would he explain the knowledge? So many things he could not say.

He stepped back into the agony booth.

"Maybe I can adjust the settings, make it less..."

Lorca smiled and turned away because he did not want her to see the regret in his face. "It's fine. I can take it." Had he looked at her, he would have seen her sympathy a thousand times magnified, and a horrible regret to match his own as she closed the door and turned the booth back on.

The pain made the heartache go away. The pain made everything go away. As he screamed, it even made Burnham go away, because she could not watch the horrible writhing of a man she respected as her captain. Lorca pressed his hands against the walls of the booth and screamed and screamed. There was something freeing in it, in not have to think of anything, of screaming without end.

Besides, some part of him felt he deserved it for failing his Michael Burnham.

The security chief and guards were in the hall. They wordlessly returned to their posts. Burnham noticed the other prisoners were not waiting in the hall with them. Detmer's voice came over the comms. "We're ready for you in transporter room one, captain."

In the transporter room, Burnham found the brig's three former guests arrayed on the pad like offerings for inspection. Detmer stood at the ready and exchanged a nod of greeting with Burnham.

Detmer spoke to the assembled prisoners. "You are all guilty of malicious thoughts against your emperor. By order of the sovereign Terran Empire, I hereby sentence you to death."

Burnham felt her eyes widen slightly and fought to keep her face impassive as the three figures were enveloped in particles of white streaked with gold. They were being beamed out to space where they would suffocate and freeze in the vacuum. All Burnham's time at the Vulcan Science Academy, fighting to keep her emotions in check around her Vulcan classmates, was being pushed to its limits. She turned from the empty transporter pad and strode out.

Lorca had warned her. Her decency in taking the time to speak with him had been a weakness. Those three crewmen had paid for that weakness with their lives.

The news of Culber's death took the crew of Discovery by surprise. It was as if the darkness of this universe had infected the ship. The fact that the murder had been perpetrated by Stamets made it even worse.

Sylvia Tilly was still having trouble with this turn of events. Even in his worst moments of delirium, she could not see Stamets as being capable of murdering his own husband and dragging the body down to deck twelve undetected, but apparently that was what had happened. That said something to Tilly. In a very real sense, that person who had stumbled out of the spore chamber after the jump had not been Paul Stamets, and she intended to prove it.

As the ship shifted over to night, Tilly headed to the engineering bay and pulled a canister of spores from the wall. She informed the other engineer in the room she was taking it for a comparative analysis to try and determine if a property variance had caused the universe jump (just in case anyone asked) and proceeded to deck nine.

O'Malley was on the door. He and Larsson were on twelve-and-twelve solo shifts now out of necessity, not that anyone else on the ship really knew or noticed. "Captain," he greeted, displaying the same sort of jaunty irreverence as he had used the first time he met Lorca.

Tilly smiled, glad for a small spot of light in these dark times. "Delivery!"

Normally, the spore delivery was conducted entirely in the security area, but today, Mischkelovitz directed Tilly to bring the spores all the way inside. It did not escape Tilly's notice that Mischkelovitz's nose and eyes were red from recent crying. "You're not going to take them into..." Tilly wondered what to call the crawlspace.

"No need," said Mischkelovitz, gesturing to the security monitors up by the ceiling. "Captain's not on the ship. He won't see." She directed Tilly to put the canister on the table and went to open a wall panel.

Tilly decided to ask now before she lost her nerve. "I've been bringing you a lot of spores. I was wondering if you might be willing to help me with something in return?"

"Okay," said Mischkelovitz, opening a conduit to load the spores into.

The words came flowing out of Tilly like a broken fire hydrant. "The jumps have affected Lieutenant Stamets brain, and ever since the last jump, it's like his brain is stuck and that's what made him kill Dr. Culber, because the Paul Stamets I know would never do anything like that! He injected himself with alien DNA rather than let Ripper suffer, he hates seeing anyone suffer. I need your help to fix him, to make him himself again. Lieutenant Stamets is always saying physics is biology, so I was hoping maybe we could try and make medicine like engineering and fix him that way?"

Mischkelovitz gaped. Tilly winced, knowing her verbal hemorrhage could have that effect on people sometimes, but Mischkelovitz's shock was due to something else. "Hugh is dead?" Her jaw began to tremble. Fresh tears spilled down her cheeks.

"I didn't realize—" Tilly paled. Of course Mischkelovitz did not know. She rarely left her lab and never spoke to anyone on the ship outside the small circle of Lab 26 personnel. Tilly clenched her hands. Mischkelovitz was so jumpy Tilly was not sure if she should try to hug the other woman or not, but standing around doing nothing felt wrong. She tentatively reached over and put a hand on Mischkelovitz's shoulder.

"I'm okay, I'm okay!" went Mischkelovitz, wiping her face furiously. "What happened?"

"They think... they think that he had an episode and ran away and Dr. Culber chased him and Paul... Lieutenant Stamets snapped his neck."

Mischkelovitz's breaths came in rapid, ragged gasps. "They think?"

"That's what Commander Saru told me happened." Tilly gulped. "But Lieutenant Stamets couldn't do something like that! He wouldn't!"

With a series of long, shuddering breaths, Mischkelovitz seemed to get hold of herself. She knew what it was to be blamed for and even responsible for the death of someone you loved through no intentional fault of your own. "Okay," she managed, and nodded. "I'll help."

The spores lay untouched on the table as Mischkelovitz and Tilly went over Stamets' brain scans. The changes to the white matter and cerebral blood flow, suggestions for how to undo or repair the damage in some way, they went over it all. Mischkelovitz managed to explain the neurological processes in ways Tilly could understand clearly, a task which was made more difficult by occasional verbal slip-ups: "mite whatter" instead of "white matter," "teurological nissue" for "neurological tissue." It seemed the more technical Mischkelovitz's words became, the more the letters rearranged themselves.

The conclusion of their assessment was that much of Stamets' brain had been rendered nonfunctional as a result of the structural changes to the organ. Thankfully, the situation was far from hopeless. "You're right," said Mischkelovitz, "it's a ratter of medirecting the pathways, but medical intervention can't do it. He's part of the network. You have to reroute the network."

Tilly's eyes went wide. "Of course!" The network that needed rerouting was the pathways forged by the mycelial link. "The spores changed the structure, they can change it again."

"You just have to be careful to change it to the right structure. Here." Mischkelovitz brought up an earlier brain scan of Stamets; the one Lorca had provided her when she okayed him for that last jump. "You can use this as a template."

Tilly beamed. "Thank you so much, Dr. Mischkelovitz."

Mischkelovitz blinked a few times. "You... you can call me Mischka."

"I can?"

Mischkelovitz nodded rapidly. "It was nice having a partner again. Maybe... maybe if I can find myself here..."

That threw Tilly for a loop. "You want to work with the other you? Isn't she a bad person? It seems like all the people here are... the worst version of us. My doppelganger has killed dozens of people!" Captain Killy had, in fact, killed hundreds, but in this instance, Tilly was referring only to those deaths Killy had performed with her own two hands.

"Maybe," said Mischkelovitz quietly, "but if I could just find me, maybe I can be two people again."

It was tragically sad. Mischkelovitz seemed to think she could replace Milosz with her evil twin. Tilly was not sure what to say to that. "Maybe," she offered after a moment. "Thanks again."

As the doors cycled, Mischkelovitz's odd desire lingered in Tilly's thoughts. She almost forgot O'Malley was outside. Tilly startled when he asked her, "You were in there a while. Everything all right?"

Nothing was all right, but Tilly was starting to feel like it might be better soon. "Uh, yeah! Just... Dr. Mischkelovitz and her husband really had a special connection."

"Oh?" prompted O'Malley. "How d'you know that?"

"They recorded these research logs. It was like..."

O'Malley smiled softly. "Like the same person in two places?"

Tilly was surprised. That described what she had seen perfectly. "Exactly! Did you know Milosz Mischkelovitz?"

"I've known them both since they were eight," said O'Malley, smile deepening into one of genuine affection at the memory.

"You grew up with them?"

O'Malley started to laugh quietly. "Emellia is my sister," he said in proud explanation. "And my favorite person in two universes." That fact suddenly amused him, fraught as it was with the unfortunate nature of their circumstances.

Tilly's eyes went wide as saucers. "I have a million questions!"

O'Malley considered that. As far as crewmembers went, Tilly was right up there with Saru in his estimation. She was amiable, cheerful, intelligent, generous, and kind, but her overly eager nature and willingness to stumble into making mistakes did not make her a very popular person. A bit of an outcast, really. At the beginning of the voyage, she had tried to join the family dinner in the mess hall and they'd turned her away. O'Malley now realized they had done themselves a grave disservice with that action. "Well, I've got nothing but time."

"Really?"

"I mean, I can't promise I'll answer everything, but I'm standing around all night either way."

Though her uniform gave the appearance of Terran scourge Captain Killy, the eager look of excitement on Tilly's face was anything but. "Tell me everything!"

He wouldn't, of course, but he knew enough minor, unincriminating anecdotes to entertain. "So there was this one time, when Mischka was ten..."

In the morning, Saru and Tilly contacted Burnham for an update on the mission. Saru chose not to inform her of Culber's death. It would only distract Burnham from her task. Besides, there was nothing at this point any of them could do.

Stamets lay strapped down to a medical bed, restraints across his torso, arms, and legs. He was completely immobilized. There was no way he would escape again. His milky-white eyes stared unmoving at the ceiling, only the beeps of the medical monitors signaling that he was still alive.

Tilly hated seeing Stamets in this condition, but Saru was adamant the restraints were needed. "If Lieutenant Stamets killed Culber, he may be a danger to all of us." That Stamets was not the real suspect was a fact known only to a few. Circumstances were bad enough without the crew thinking they had a potential murderer roaming the ship who could freeze time and strike anyone, anywhere. Circumstances were bad enough with everyone thinking Stamets had murdered his husband.

"He only escaped because the containment field was disabled," said Tilly. She had not thought to raise it after seeing Stamets; neither had the nurse. In fairness, it was hard to notice a lack of something in the room, particularly when Stamets had seemed so largely unresponsive. "Culber probably lowered it himself. Who could stand to see the person they love in a cage?"

"Perhaps that was his fatal error," mused Saru. At present, he and Groves were operating under the theory that Stamets had gotten out of sickbay, wandered down to deck twelve, and Culber had tracked him there, encountering Allan. Allan then killed Culber, framed Stamets, and deleted the relevant security footage. The theory was not perfect, there were a lot of questions like why Allan would kill instead of just disappearing as he seemed readily able to, but it was a solid theory.

Tilly's reply was immediate. "Stamets didn't kill anyone."

"Are you suggesting there's a murderer running free on our ship?" asked Saru, concerned. Because Allan had always kept himself on the fringes of everything, never getting directly involved, no one seemed yet to realize his absence. That could surely only last so long.

"No!" exclaimed Tilly. "I'm saying that this... this is not Paul Stamets." She brought up Stamets' brain scan on the nearest display and outlined for Saru the details of her discussion with Mischkelovitz. "This was an unfortunate consequence of an addled mind trying to reach beyond a cloud of confusion. We are losing him, commander, and fast."

"The lieutenant's health it in the hands of our medical officers," said Saru somberly.

"Medicine isn't working! This is a spore issue. Which means no one is more qualified to treat him than I am." Before the mirror universe, such an outburst would have been entirely out of character for Tilly. Some combination of the role she had been forced to assume as Captain Killy and her desperation to save Stamets had combined to produce a forcefulness within her. It surprised her as much as it did Saru. She quickly tempered her outburst with a plea. "Please? Let me bring him back."

As he looked down at Stamets, Saru thought that this was not what Culber would have wanted. "Very well," he said, though some part of him doubted Tilly would be able to succeed where Culber had not. They had to try, at least. For the memory of Hugh Culber.

Part 79

[thesoftdumbass]

Undercover

Sam Wilson X Reader Words: 1,079 Characters: Reader, Sam Wilson, OC Matt, Nick Fury (mentioned) Warnings: Alcohol usage, jealousy, flirting, unwanted flirting, unwanted touching (not much) Summary: You and Sam go on an undercover mission, and Sam gets jealous when you have to flirt with a target. Author's Note: Hi guys! I haven't seen much Sam love lately and I thought I would change that. This is my first time writing a Sam-centric post and I hope I did him justice. Please correct me if I got anything OOC. I hope you like it. Sorry for any spelling or grammatical errors. Enjoy!

(All gif credit to owners)

As always, (Y/N)=your name and (Y/L/N)=your last name.

You were currently on an undercover operation with a teammate where you had to attend a gala and get information from a target. Other than an indiscreet Sam Wilson and a concealed handgun, you had no back-up.

"I'm nearing the target, my comm will be on the whole time and you can listen in," you update Sam through your earpiece.

"Will do," he replied.

You slowly walked to the bar in the extravagant ballroom, holding eye contact with the man confirmed to work as a low-level accountant at Hydra. He wasn't too bad looking, in his early thirties with short black hair and scruff on his angular jaw. At least you won't be completely grossed out while being forced to flirt with him. You reached the bar and sat down on a stool to the left of the man, ordering a drink. You glance to your right and notice the man watching you. He decided to speak to you.

"Hello, beautiful, I'm Matt. What's a gorgeous woman like you doing here unaccompanied?" the man introduced himself before eyeing your figure up and down.

You had to admit, you looked pretty good. You were wearing a revealing dress, a simple black design with a deep plunge and thigh-high split, and suede grey heels. Matt certainly admired your assets in the ensemble, and you used that to your advantage.

"Well I certainly wouldn't say I'm alone, now that you're here. My name is (Y/N) by the way," you say, giving him a sultry smile.

"(Y/N), that's a pretty name."

"Thank you handsome," you say, laying it on thick. You turn toward him and whisper conspiratorially. "Are you almost asleep too? I always find these events boring."

"Well if you'd like, we can sit here together. Maybe we can entertain ourselves?" Matt suggests. You almost roll your eyes at how easy that was.

"That sounds nice."

While you let the man buy you a drink and got to work, Sam stood and started wandering the room with his drink, being inconspicuous. He couldn't believe that scum got to flirt with and be seduced by you, it was just unfair. Sam cursed his luck. He nearly choked up every time you tried to have a conversation with him, and that's because he had the biggest crush on you.

If Matt was distracted by you in your dress, Sam was even more so. Sam resumed focus on the job when he saw you in his peripheral vision, laughing and running your hand down the target's arm. He clenched his jaw as you leaned in closer.

"Your job just sounds so interesting. What is it you said you do," you asked, feigning interest.

You let Matt drone on about working at a respectable business (yeah right) downtown and recording it all through your comm, even giving you a building address while trying to impress you. It didn't work. By the time you get all the information you can about his work without Matt getting suspicious, you're trying to fabricate a good excuse as to why you're not going home with him.

"Thank you for saving me from dying of boredom tonight, you're practically an Avenger!" you tell him sweetly.

"You're welcome. So do you wanna get out of here," Matt suggests, suddenly close to your face.

"No, I am very flattered though," you tell him as politely as you can.

"You sure about that, baby girl? We'll have a good time," he's now grabbing your arm, trying to pull you closer to him.

It was fortunately for you that Sam chose that moment to pass by you, and noticed the unwanted touching. He came closer, interjecting into the conversation. "(Y/N)! There you are, gorgeous. Sorry, I got caught up talking business."

While Matt was surprised by Sam's sudden appearance and affectionate nickname for you, you were able to slip from his grasp without causing a scene. "It's alright, handsome. I was just passing the time and making conversation. I know how these work events can be." You stood at Sam's side, putting your arm around his waist in a loving gesture.

Matt sputtered, looking insulted at being led on. You decide to pull the innocent act and get out of there as fast as possible. "Sam, this is my new acquaintance Matt. Matt, this is my boyfriend Sam."

"You didn't say you had a boyfriend earlier," Matt says coldly. You pretend not to notice the venom in his voice.

"You didn't ask. Now if you'll excuse us, we've gotta get home. It was nice to meet you!" you say wearing the biggest, most innocent smile you can muster.

You leave Matt standing at the bar, walking arm-in-arm with Sam out of the building. As you're making your way to your vehicle, you speak up. "Thank you for the save back there, Wilson. I really appreciate it."

"Anytime, (Y/L/N). I'm just glad I didn't punch him in the face, the way he was grabbing you like that." You can hear the anger in Sam's voice as he tries not to turn around and head back the way you just came.

"That would have been fun to explain to Fury," you laugh out, trying to lighten the mood. You see in the way Sam's brown eyes shine that you were successful. "Is it just me, or are you starving too? Let me buy you dinner for saving me."

"Only if I get to pay next time, and it's just you and me there. No annoying Hydra jerks," he replies, holding the car door open for you and shutting it after you.

"Is that your way of asking me on a date, Sam Wilson," you ask with a smile when he gets in on the driver's side.

"That depends," he says with a mischievous smile. "Is that your way of saying yes?"

"Yes."

"Then yes."

"Alright then. Where would you like to eat? Your pick," you say.

"I think a burger sounds good."

Ten minutes later, you're sitting in a Five Guys in a formal dress with a dashing tux-wearing Sam Wilson across the table from you. You had a lot of fun, even though the night started with work. You stayed until the restaurant closed, telling embarrassing stories and laughing until your sides hurt and your cheeks were red. If your first date with Sam was this good, you can only imagine how much fun you'll have on your second date with him. And you can't wait.

[madrcams]

Closes doors, shuts curtains, turns lights off, hides under bed armed with Nerf gun.

“ You ain’t catching me, Horse Curse! ”