#Behind those clear scales so to him it's always like he's just blinked

[cxpperhead]

So then how does Copperhead keep his eyes moist if he can’t close them anymore?

They're covered in scales too, just clear ones he's able to see through! They're kind of like goggles in a way, helping water and other debris like dust to slide right off their smooth surface but it can make shedding an issue if he's not properly hydrated or there is insufficient humidity in the air? Snakes get this issue too, making stuck eye caps one of the few health things he must be conscious of!

[domjaehyun]

tangerine love (favorite) (l.dh)

PAIRING. haechan x fem!reader

GENRES. fluff, smut, light humor

WORD COUNT. 21.8k

CONTENTS. explicit smut (oral (receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, cumming inside, riding, breast/nipple play, haechan kinda likes to talk dirty)

NOTES. mandarins and tangerines are actually not interchangeable but for the sake of this fic, i do not care. this was very fun to write. i hope you enjoy it!! please leave feedback if you liked it :) 

PLAYLIST. plastic off the sofa - beyoncé // tangerine love (favorite) - nct dream

Ever since moving into this new apartment complex with your friends Mijoo and Chuu, you’ve only caught a few glimpses of the three guys that live directly across the hall from you. 

Renjun, Jaemin, and Haechan all seem like nice guys in passing, always smiling politely and waving, but there’s always been something…different about Haechan. You could chalk it up to a budding crush on the handsome male, but there’s always a playful air to his presence, his eyes glinting with a secret you’re begging to be let in on.

You barely get any discerning words in whenever you pass by each other, the only notable time you’ve spent together being in a quick trip up to your floor in the elevator, and you spent that whole time trying to avoid getting caught ogling his attractive features. 

Based on the small amused chuckle he’d let out after a quick glance to you as he’d gestured for you to exit first, you think you weren’t as discreet as you’d hoped to be. 

That mildly embarrassing incident, however, only registers as a 3 on the Embarrassment Richter Scale that you definitely did not just make up. 

What definitely classifies as a 6, however, and you’re not being dramatic (probably), is tonight, when you make it to your apartment at 4:00am to find that you’ve forgotten your key and are, therefore, locked out.

After three unanswered calls to each of your roommates’ phones and four whining voicemails, you begin to lose hope.

“Oh, come on,” you mutter, restlessly shifting from foot to foot as you knock at the door insistently. “Wake up, wake up—”

“Hey, neighbor,” you hear from behind you, and you hesitate, praying you’ve incorrectly matched the voice to a person, before turning around. 

Of course, because your luck is just fantastic, none other than Haechan stands behind you, leaning against the wall by his front door.

“Hey,” you offer a small wave, and he raises his eyebrows, gesturing at your door with a hand holding a beer can. “Locked out.”

“Ah,” he says sympathetically. “That sucks. Have you tried kicking it?”

“K-Kicking it?” you ask, brows furrowed in confusion, and he nods, striding across the hall to stand beside you. He smells amazing, you note with a dreamy sigh that you hope he didn’t hear, and he points to the part of the door where the lock is. 

“Yeah, maybe if you kick it right here,” he cranes his head to look at you, smirking slightly when you blink at him wide-eyed, “you can kick the door in. I saw it on TV once.”

“We aren’t on TV,” you comment with a small snort, making Haechan chuckle and nod in agreement, “but I can give it a try.” You step back and rear up, kicking the door where Haechan pointed as hard as you can. 

The sound is embarrassingly loud and the black shoe print on your door is only a testament to your failed attempt to gain access to your apartment. 

Haechan snickers loudly from beside you, and you turn to him, eyes narrowed.

“Sorry,” he apologizes, holding his hands up in the air defensively. “It was an impressive kick, though.” 

You straighten up slightly at the compliment, smoothing down your jacket. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he says sincerely. “You’ve got a lot of power in those legs.” 

“Thanks,” you hum thoughtfully.

“What are you even doing out so late? It’s not safe to be out alone at this hour.” Haechan asks, and you huff in defeat.

“I couldn’t sleep, so I wanted to go for a walk to de-stress, y’know? Clear my head.” you sigh. 

“I see,” he remarks, taking a sip from his can as he leans against the wall beside your door. “Well, how’d that work out for you?” His tone is teasing, and when you turn to glare at him, the playful look on his face makes it impossible for you to maintain the disdainful expression. 

“Not great,” you mutter, smiling despite your situation.

“Well, y’know, if you wanna come in until one of your roommates wakes up, you’re more than welcome,” Haechan offers, jerking his chin in the direction of his door.

“That’s a very nice offer,” you say appreciatively. “Why are you awake, actually?”

“I don’t like to sleep.” Haechan answers, shrugging.

You blink at him. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Nope,” he chirps. “Sleep makes me feel like I’m missing out on something.”

“The FOMO runs strong in you, I see.” You offer a wry smile which he returns and you lean your back against your front door beside him. Looking over at you, he pushes off of the wall and turns so he’s standing in front of you. 

You really wish he hadn’t done that, actually, because now you’re forced to confront how unfairly handsome he is, and you suspect Haechan knows that, given the way his eyebrow arches attractively. 

“Think about it this way,” he shifts closer to you slightly, his tongue running over his bottom lip, “I would’ve missed out on getting to talk to you tonight if I was sleeping.”

“Very true,” you muse with a small smile, and he grins. “Didn’t know that my company is worth staying up for.” 

“Of course it is,” he scoffs. “Who else is gonna stare at me when she thinks I’m not looking?” His words freeze you in place, your expression resembling a deer in headlights before he laughs to break the tension. “I’m teasing.” 

“Oh,” you mumble, but you both know there’s truth to his words; your face doesn’t hide your emotions well at all, and you’re surprised you’ve managed to go this long without looking at him and practically swooning. 

“Cute,” he says softly, eyes scanning your face.

Before you even get to comment on the unexpected compliment, your door unlocks and you spring forward just in time to avoid falling back as it opens. A very sleepy, very cranky Mijoo stands in your doorway, eyes barely open as she holds the door open for you. 

In your haste to get off of the door, you fail to realize your surroundings, lurching forward and directly into Haechan’s personal space. Your chests are but a breath away from touching, and he chuckles, bracing you with both hands on your hips. The cold condensation of his can seeps into the hem of your shirt and you swallow hard as you look up at him sheepishly. 

“Sorry about that,” you mumble, stepping back slightly, realizing a moment later that Haechan still hasn’t released your hips. He seems to notice when you do, clearing his throat and dropping his hands back to his sides with a small smile. 

Turning to thank Mijoo, you notice that she’s already left, presumably having shuffled off to her bedroom to resume her sleep, leaving the door slightly ajar with a slipper.

“Glad you got in,” he remarks, gesturing behind you at your apartment, and you nod in appreciation.

“Thanks for, uh, keeping me company.” you say with a bashful smile. 

“No problem.” He walks backwards to his front door, opening it without looking, and raises two fingers to his brow in a mock salute.

“Good night.” You bid him goodbye with a wave, turning to head into your apartment before he calls your name, prompting you to turn back around. “Yeah?”

“Don’t be a stranger, okay?” He sounds, if you’re not crazy, like he’s flirting with you, and your eyes widen as he lifts his brows in a playful wiggle.

“Okay,” you agree with an almost robotic nod, and he grins before turning and heading into his apartment, prompting you to follow suit.

When the door’s shut and locked, you let out a long exhale, finally letting your giddy squeals bubble up out of you. 

He called you cute. He called you cute and he touched your hips, and he was so close—

Okay, maybe the Embarrassment Richter Scale would classify that as a 4 instead—points were docked because it may have actually worked out in your favor somewhat.

You haven’t really fulfilled your promise of not being a stranger with Haechan; he still makes your heart skip a nervous little beat every time he grins at you from across a room or waves at you in passing. 

He, however, is doing a great job of not being a stranger with your roommates, both of them regaling you with funny things Haechan has told them in various conversations. Chuu works with Haechan at the bookstore, as it turns out, and Mijoo just has a convenient schedule, running into your handsome neighbor more often than you do.

Are you bitter? No. Absolutely not. Are you jealous? Not in the slightest. 

Are you lying about both of those things? Yes, entirely.

You’re heading out of your apartment to the grocery store, locking the door behind you when you hear the door across the hall open.

Turning to see who it is, your eyes widen and a giddy little smile tugs at your lips as Haechan looks you up and down.

“Well, look who it is,” Haechan greets you, and your smile widens. 

“Hi, Haechan.” you say softly, attempting to sound as casual as possible.

“Where are you headed?”

“The grocery store,” you explain, showing him your tote bag filled with reusable shopping bags.

“What a coincidence,” he muses, stepping closer to you. “So am I?”

“Really?” you say in surprise, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. 

“Yeah,” he confirms, stepping even closer to you. He’s close enough now that you can smell the warm, cozy scent of his cologne. “You didn’t keep your promise,” he points out, frowning very attractively at you.

“About not being a stranger?” you ask, and he nods, his frown deepening. 

As cute as he is like that, you don’t think you ever want to be the reason he frowns again. 

“You can make it up to me if you wanna,” he suggests, a playful lilt to his voice, and you raise an eyebrow suspiciously.

“How’s that?”

“Be my shopping buddy for today.” 

You pretend to think about it, smiling when he looks at you expectantly. “Okay.”

“Great! We can take my car.” 

“Oh, thank God. I was gonna walk.”

“Aren’t you lucky to have me?” He grins and gestures down the hall for you to walk with him.

“Something like that,” you mumble under your breath, Haechan thankfully not hearing you.

The ride to the store is pleasant, Haechan playing music in the car—almost exclusively Michael Jackson, to be specific, with the inclusion of some other artists—and you two talk the whole time, never a lull in the conversation as you learn more about each other.

He works at the bookstore a couple blocks down from the record store you work at, likes playing video games and listening to music, and is, on top of an incessant flirt, a very attentive listener.

You two make your way through the store gradually, your shared cart filled with various frozen goods and produce items. You’re in the fruits section, inspecting bags of mandarins to find the best bunch, when you both start to speak.

“Hey, I just thought—”

“You know what’s so—”

You both stop talking at the same time, laughing before you gesture for him to speak.

“I was just thinking about how you work at the record store; do you guys have this one Michael Jackson vinyl? It’s limited edition, so you probably don’t, but—”

“What’s it look like?” you ask, and he pulls up a picture on his phone, showing you and looking at you hopefully.

“I can’t say no for sure, because I haven’t checked. I’ll check and let you know!” you assure him, and he smiles in relief.

“That’d be awesome. I’ve been looking for it everywhere. What were you gonna say?”

“I was gonna say that it’s so sick that produce companies put mandarins and other orange citruses in orange netted bags to make them look more appealing.” you huff, inspecting the bag you’re holding more carefully. 

“It’s sneaky,” Haechan agrees with a small smile as he watches you.

“It’s deceitful!” you exclaim indignantly, and he snorts, barely biting back his laughter. “I’m serious!” You frown, and he hums sympathetically.

“I understand.” He pats your shoulder gently, his hand lingering for a moment before dropping, his fingers grazing your arm on the way down. 

��I think these are good.” you finally decide, placing your bag in the cart, and Haechan quickly looks over the mandarins, plucking a bag of his own and placing it in the bottom of the cart. “You like mandarins, too?”

“Love them,” he confirms, and you smile, pleasantly surprised. “Do you have anything else on your list?”

“Nope; you?”

“Nope. Let’s go to the check-out aisle?” He gestures towards the front of the store, and you nod, walking beside him as you both push the cart. (Well, truthfully, Haechan is doing all the pushing; your hands are on the bar for decoration, essentially.)

When you get to the front aisle, a familiar voice calls your name and you crane your head to find the source.

“I think it’s Mijoo,” Haechan murmurs, also looking around. 

Do you bristle slightly at the thought that he recognized your friend’s voice before you did? No, absolutely not. And you’re definitely not lying to yourself right now.

You find her in aisle six, loading up your groceries on the conveyor belt and separating them with the divider as you greet Mijoo.

“How’s work?” you ask curiously, and she frowns deeply. “Oh, no.”

“I just got yelled at by some old lady who got mad I wouldn’t take her expired coupons. They expired four months ago.” Her face is deadpan, and you wince.

“Damn,” you sigh sympathetically as she scans your groceries. “If you want her to suffer, give me a call.”

She snorts loudly, putting in her employee code so you’ll get a discount on the groceries, and looks at you with an amused but unimpressed stare. “What are you gonna do?”

“Steal her cane or something, I don’t know.” 

“That’s evil,” Mijoo giggles, gesturing for you to pay. “Whenever you’re ready.” 

“You left something in the cart,” Haechan calls to you, and you frown, turning back to check. He shifts to take your place as you check before saying, “Oh, sorry, I think that’s mine, actually.” He smiles sheepishly, and you wave him off gently, turning back to the pin pad to see “Transaction Approved!” You turn to look at Haechan, who’s putting his card away, and shoot him an incredulous stare.

“What?” He’s grinning cheekily at you, and you splutter awkwardly.

“Did you just pay for my groceries?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” he replies smoothly, and you narrow your eyes, looking over at Mijoo for support.

She raises her hands in surrender, looking down at her scanner. “Don’t bring me into this.”

“Traitor!” you whisper incredulously, and she frowns at you.

“Sorry.” 

You direct your narrowed-eyed gaze to Haechan for a moment and then shuffle to the bagging section, carefully packing up your groceries as Haechan checks out his groceries. As they come down the conveyor belt, you package his things up too, and he smiles gratefully at you as he makes his way to you. 

You catch him giving Mijoo a fist bump and murmuring, “Thanks,” as you’re finishing up the bagging, and you huff petulantly, loading up everything into the cart.

You bid Mijoo goodbye and head out of the store, walking to Haechan’s car and starting to take things out of the cart as he opens the trunk.

“You’re pretty close with my roommates,” you say as nonchalantly as possible, side-eyeing Haechan.

“Not really,” he dismisses you. “I work with Chuu at the bookstore, and I really just see Mijoo in passing.”

“Well, you guys were all buddy-buddy just now,” you point out, trying your best to hide the jealousy creeping into your tone. 

Your attempt fails, if Haechan raising his eyebrow in amusement is any indication. 

“Are you…jealous?” Haechan asks with a smile, and your eyes widen. 

“No!” you yelp, clutching a bag to your chest almost protectively. “I am not.”

“You totally are,” he snickers, and your brows furrow. “It’s cute.”

“It’s not cute,” you counter, “because I am not jealous.”

“Oh, yeah?” Poking his tongue into his cheek and grinning at you, his casually attractive appearance practically takes your breath away.

“Yeah,” you mumble weakly. “I totally don’t mind that you talk to my roommates more than you talk to me. Doesn’t bother me at all.” Haechan doesn’t respond for a moment, giving you the opportunity to place the last bag in the trunk of the car. When you shut the trunk and turn around, you jolt in surprise at his sudden proximity, the two of you almost face to face, and he chuckles at your reaction before refocusing his gaze on your eyes.

“What if I said I was only befriending them to get close to you?” He raises his eyebrows with a flirtatious little wiggle, and you swallow thickly, looking down to break eye contact. Apparently, he doesn’t intend to give you a break anytime soon, ducking down slightly to lock eyes with you again. “Hm?”

“I’d ignore all of that,” you say slowly, carefully controlling the nervous yet excited tremor in your voice, “to ask why your face is this close to mine.”

“Why?” His eyes are alight with glee as he backs you up against the car slowly, and you gulp. “Does it make you nervous?”

“No,” you huff.

“You’re lying.”

“I am not lying!” you lie.

He raises his eyebrows again as if to say, “is that so?” He leans closer to you, now focused unwaveringly on your mouth, and wets his lips. You both stand frozen in place for a moment before he leans in closer and you break, yelping in panic before ducking so the crown of your head rests against his chest.

He calls your name softly and you shake your head, whining quietly in protest. He matches your tone, whining your name plaintively as he gently shakes your shoulders, and you peek up at him to see him grinning down at you.

“Told you.” He shoots you a smug upwards flick of his eyebrows before backing up to give you a moment of relief. “Now come on, the frozen stuff is gonna thaw.” When you don’t move at first, still stuck in place from the intimate moment you two just shared, he snickers and reaches for your hand, leading you to the passenger door, which he opens for you, waiting for you to get in. 

Your body finally listens to you, sitting down in the passenger seat and strapping yourself in, and he shuts the door before making his way over to the driver’s side and getting in. He straps in and starts the car, looking over to you.

“You ready?”

You nod. “Ready.”

He smiles. “Then off we go.”

“Hey,” Haechan nudges you as you’re unloading the trunk, “I bet I can carry up more groceries than you.” 

“No way.” you laugh, and his eyes light up as he grins before hurriedly snatching as many bags as his arms and hands can hold. “Haechan, there are eggs in here!” you warn in alarm as you grab bags quickly, swatting his hands away when he reaches for any bag you’ve set your sights on. 

He shuts the trunk and locks the car before standing in front of you proudly. He’s definitely got you beat, holding no less than six bags of groceries, most of them being your reusable bags. 

“You cheated,” you grumble bitterly, and he just grins and jerks his head towards the building.

“C’mon,” he says softly, walking towards the entrance. You walk after him and he says, “Do you know the real reason why I wanted to have that competition?”

“Because you’re competitive and wanted to see me meet my demise?” You look over at him, and he laughs before shaking his head.

“I wanted an excuse to be a gentleman and take your groceries up for you.” He holds the front door open for you, and you walk through, murmuring a “thank you.”

“Well, that’s very sweet,” you mumble sheepishly as you press the elevator button and avoid his gaze, and he shrugs, smiling.

“I’m a very sweet guy,” he says with a nod, and you nod slowly, looking him up and down. The elevator doors open and you both step in, Haechan pressing the button for your floor and leaning against the back wall as the doors slide shut. “What is it?” He looks over at you curiously, chuckling when he sees you smiling.

“Usually, sweet people don’t need to say they’re sweet, y’know.” 

He looks up thoughtfully before nodding in agreement and looking back down at you. “Maybe I can show you how sweet I am, then.”

You can’t help but feel like he’s hinting at something else, but you push the thought from your mind and meet his gaze once more.

“Maybe you can.” The elevator dings and the doors slide open, Haechan gesturing for you to exit and following after you. A thought comes to you as you set your groceries down to find your keys and you turn to him once more. “Haechan?”

“Mm?”

“Was your plan to hold my groceries partially so I’d have to let you into my apartment to unload them?”

“No,” he says truthfully. “I did plan on seeing you for longer, though, so now you have to figure out which bags are yours and which are mine.” He grins proudly, and you raise an eyebrow.

“I bagged them separately.” 

His face falls slightly, and you think you might hate that. “Oh.”

“But you wanna know something?” You’re quick to follow up in an attempt to comfort him, and he looks at you curiously. “I used my bags on everything, so…technically…”

“My stuff is in your bags.” His smile returns to his face and your muscles relax slightly in relief. “So…technically…”

“You and I have to unload all this stuff,” you say slowly, feigning a pout. “And who knows how long that’s gonna take?”

“Looks like we’re gonna be spending a bit more time together, yeah?” He’s grinning at you, stepping closer so the fronts of your shoes are touching, and you can’t help but mirror his smile, turning away abruptly to unlock your door.

“I guess so.”

As you, Mijoo, and Chuu become better acquainted with your handsome neighbors across the hall, you get closer and closer until hanging out with them is almost second nature. At this point, you’re no stranger to coming home and finding your neighbors and roommates sprawled around the living room; hell, you’ve often joined them if work hasn’t left you entirely drained.

You’re not even a stranger to the heated debates over nothingness that your friends often start fights about; you’ve always had a flair for the dramatic, and often storm off to your room in a grandiose huff when your opinion is shot down.

(If you’re being honest, sometimes you’ll take the smallest opening to retreat to your room once you feel your social battery depleting, but you don’t plan on admitting that any time soon.)

This afternoon, when you unlock your front door, sounds of yelling greet you as you step into the apartment and kick your shoes off.

“You’re home!” Mijoo yells in relief, running into the entryway and beaming at you. “Just in time.”

“Time for what?” you ask warily, and more footsteps come rushing towards you as Chuu approaches rapidly.

“If a dog wore pants—”

“You’re cheating! Let her get in here first!” Renjun yells from the living room.

Chuu rolls her eyes. “If a dog wore pants—as a matter of fact, come here and show them.” She takes your hand and pulls you into the living room, where Haechan, Renjun, and Jaemin sit in various spots. 

You lock eyes with Haechan, who grins and flicks his brows upwards as a greeting, and you snort quietly in amusement, smiling at him. 

“If a dog wore pants,” Chuu stresses, shaking your hand to get your attention, “how would it look?”

You snicker. “This is what you’re fighting about?”

“Yes, ma’am. Now answer the question.” 

“On its back paws,” you answer easily, and Chuu, Haechan, Jaemin, and Renjun exclaim triumphantly as Mijoo cries out in despair. “Mijoo, you’re kidding, right?”

“No! He has four legs!” she defends herself emphatically, and you shake your head vigorously.

“But the front two function as hands! You don’t put pants on your hands!”

“But they walk on all fours!”

“But if you handed a dog a ball, it would never try to grab it with its back two paws! Because those are its feet-feet, not its hands-feet!”

“I feel so betrayed,” Mijoo wails, rubbing her hand over her face.

“I mean, it’s okay!” You attempt to cheer her up, and she looks at you with a frown. “You’re entitled to your opinion—no matter how wrong it is.” You grin teasingly and you can hear Haechan snicker loudly from his chair.

“You little—”

“Who else had a wrong opinion they wanna share?” You change the topic, dodging when Mijoo launches a pillow at you. It hits the lamp instead, which falls and hits the wall, leaving a scuff mark. “That better buff out,” you warn a now sheepish looking Mijoo. “I am not losing my security deposit over something as silly as this.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” she mutters petulantly, and you pat her shoulder comfortingly. 

“Is that all you’ve been talking about?” you laugh as you make your way into the kitchen, washing your hands and grabbing the bag of mandarins, bringing them back into the living room with you.

“Pretty much, yeah.” Renjun sighs, and you can’t help but laugh.

“Eventful.” you say sarcastically, Haechan calling your name and catching your attention.

“Come sit with me,” Haechan offers, scooting over to create space for you in the armchair. The gesture is sweet, but there definitely isn’t enough space for both of you, so you settle for perching on the arm of the seat, draping your arm over the back of the chair.

Haechan rests his cheek on your thigh, looking up at you expectantly, and you lightly scratch the crown of his head in greeting.

“Hi,” he murmurs as the rest of your friends launch into another discussion about who knows what. 

“Hey,” you reply softly, smiling down at him. 

“Are you retreating into your room today?” Haechan frowns slightly as he asks, and you think about it before giving a small nod. “Why?” he complains, dragging the word out and shaking your knee rapidly.

“I’m tired,” you match his whiny cadence, scratching his scalp more in lieu of an apology. “You can come if you want.”

He perks up immediately, looking up at you in surprise. “Really?”

“Yeah, I’m not gonna sleep, I’m just gonna relax.” you reply, and he nods eagerly, sitting up and offering you his hand.

“C’mon!” He’s practically bouncing in his seat with excitement and you have to bite back a laugh as you take his hand and stand up, leading him to your room. 

“Wh—how come you’re going in her room with her?” Jaemin complains as you leave the living room.

“The vibes are better,” Haechan calls over his shoulder and you snicker, opening your door and tossing the bag of mandarins on your bed.

“You wait here; I wanna change.” You go through your drawers to pull out a more comfortable shirt and Haechan lies down on your bed, eyes taking in the entirety of your bedroom. 

“Okay,” he hums peacefully, closing his eyes with a smile. 

You go into the bathroom and change out of your blouse and into your t-shirt, leaving your jeans on and tossing your shirt in the hamper on your way back to your room. 

“Welcome back,” Haechan greets you when you shut the door behind you, opening his eyes to look at you. His gaze lingers on you for a few moments longer than you were expecting, his lips curling into a grin when you shift awkwardly and turn away from him. 

“Thank you,” you mumble, sitting on your bed and picking up your phone and a mandarin. “You can play music, by the way; my speaker system is the one with my name.”

Haechan nods and, as he’s setting up his connection to your speaker, says, “I was gonna ask; how was your day today?”

“It sucked, kinda. Well, I’m being dramatic, but my coworker was getting on my nerves.” you huff, and Haechan hums sympathetically. Selecting a song, he gets comfortable as the music filters in through the speakers. “I should have known you’d play Michael Jackson,” you chuckle fondly, and he smiles sheepishly.

“I love his music.” He frowns defensively, and you pat his hand gently.

“I know! I don’t blame you—he’s got an impressive discography.” you assure him, and you can see him relax slightly in your peripheral vision. Looking over at him, he’s got a relieved, content smile on his lips, his hooded eyes regarding you curiously.

“Tell me about your coworker?” he asks after a moment, and you pause mid-peeling of your mandarin. 

“She’s just a micro-manager,” you huff, peeling the rest of the rind off and launching into your spiel. “She always tries to tell me what to do, but—I mean, I don’t, like, get paid to listen to her of all people, y’know?”

“I do know,” Haechan agrees, nodding in understanding. “That’s super annoying, actually.”

“It is!” you gripe before softening slightly and turning to Haechan. “Want some?” You hand him a piece of your mandarin, and he brightens, taking it gratefully and popping it into his mouth. 

You two sit there for ages, to your surprise, talking about everything and nothing, from Haechan’s lazy slacker coworker to philosophical debates such as whether you’d rather be really small or really big (you’re both team little, for stealth purposes), sharing piece after piece of mandarin until your bed is practically covered in rinds and the pleasant smell of citrus lingers in the room.

“I like hanging out in your room,” Haechan muses thoughtfully, looking over at you.

“I’m glad,” you smile widely. “There are perks, y’know?”

“Yeah, there are snacks, good conversation, good music—and,” Haechan murmurs, his voice lowering ever so slightly in pitch as he studies your face, “I get a pretty view,” his voice softens to a whisper as he watches your lips, slowly wetting his own.

Your heart could just about beat out of your chest from the compliment, and the way he’s looking at your lips has your breath faltering, teeth anxiously nibbling at your bottom lip as you watch him watching you.

“Thanks,” you mumble quietly, and he nods, still studying your lips.

If you’re not crazy, it kind of seems like he’s about to lean in, and you brace yourself for impact, your eyelids drooping slightly in anticipation. Just as you expected, he breathes in softly, leans in closer, tilting his head to the side, and—

A knock on your door makes you flinch and him freeze, a small sigh leaving his lips as he pulls back and jerks his chin towards the door, reminding you there’s someone waiting.

“Come in!” you call, and Chuu and Jaemin poke their heads into your room curiously.

“We’re ordering food; do you guys want anything?” Chuu offers, and you look at each other before nodding in agreement. “Cool; come put in your orders soon!”

“We’ll be right out,” Haechan assures them, and Chuu removes her head from the doorway, probably heading down the hall.

Jaemin scrutinizes you two carefully, making your skin crawl anxiously as he regards you with suspicion. 

“Can I help you?” you ask with a frown, desperately hoping you don’t look as guilty as you feel. 

“Kinda thought you two would be—never mind.” Jaemin says cryptically, giving you both one last once-over before leaving your room and shutting your door.

You two are silent, the only sound in the room being the music playing in the background, and you can barely bring yourself to look at Haechan, already very aware that he’s looking at you.

“Wanna go get some food?” he breaks the silence, and you nod immediately, grasping at the topic shift like a lifeline.

“Yeah, let’s go.”

“Oh, damn,” Haechan’s sympathetic wince sounds out from behind you and you turn to look at him, hissing and turning back around as water starts to drip towards your elbow. “They put you on dish duty tonight, I see.”

“Yeah,” you sigh, shooting him a frown over your shoulder. “Woe is me.” 

“Poor baby,” he coos playfully, shrugging off his jacket and placing it on the island counter. Before you can either attempt to recuperate from the pet name or ask what he’s up to, he nudges you aside and picks up the spare dish cloth. “Don’t worry; Haechan is here to help.”

“My hero,” you joke, pretending to swoon, and he laughs as he soaps up his cloth and starts washing a plate. “No, but I do appreciate it.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he dismisses you casually. “I was actually looking for you.”

“Oh, yeah?” you ask. “Why’s that?”

“I wanna get your opinion on something.” Haechan says slowly, carefully, and you nod, a silent sign for him to continue. “Well, I have this friend,” Haechan starts off, monitoring your expression out of the corner of his eye. “He’s really into this girl, but he doesn’t know if he should go for it or not.”

“Hm. Does the girl seem interested?” you ask, trying to get a better sense of the situation, and Haechan pauses, looking at you again and chuckling as he shakes his head.

“He can’t fully tell,” he answers, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he sets the plate down and picks up a bowl. “She’s a little clueless.”

“Maybe tell your friend to give it some time to get a better idea of where she’s at.” you suggest, and Haechan nods slowly, thinking it over.

“But here’s the thing,” Haechan adds, “I—my friend wants to kiss this girl so badly.”

“Aw,” you hum sympathetically. “Poor guy.”

“Yeah, poor guy,” Haechan mumbles, and you become very aware of the fact that he’s staring right at the side of your face. 

You fixate on a piece of food stuck on the plate you’re washing, scrubbing at the spot vigorously to do away with your nerves.

Haechan pushes away from the sink, drying his hands and leaning against the island behind you, his still detectable, very probing stare sending shivers down your spine.

“He really wants to kiss her, y’know.” he stresses, and you pause because, for one of the first times in your adult life, you think you’re finally starting to get the hint.

“Yeah?” The word feels like it’s stuck in your throat, your heart rate picking up considerably as the poor thing thuds away in your chest. 

“Mhm,” Haechan confirms, his voice lilting as if trying to lead someone to an answer. “He thinks about it all the time.”

“Maybe she wants him to kiss her,” you murmur, and you could swear Haechan’s breathing stops, at least for a moment. He says nothing for an uncomfortably long time, your words hanging in the air between you two.

“Yeah?” His voice is soft, testing the waters, and you can’t bring yourself to speak, your rapidly beating heart migrating up into your throat. 

You nod.

He’s silent for what feels like ages, then he’s calling your name quietly, but urgently. His voice sounds significantly closer and the thought of being so close to him at a time like this has excitement bubbling inside of you.

“Hm?” Your response comes out as a squeak, to your utter embarrassment, but as Haechan places his hands on your hips and slowly turns you to face him, you get the sense that he might not be too focused on that.

He searches your eyes for something—you don’t know what—and, seemingly satisfied, his intent, determined gaze drops slowly to your lips. He takes a step closer, and another, his chest brushing against yours with every breath either of you take. 

You swallow thickly, instinctively moving with him as he backs you up against the kitchen sink.

“Haechan?” you call breathlessly.

His gaze doesn’t move from your lips, his own mouth curling into a small smirk. “Mm?”

“Why are you so close?” you ask, the anticipation reaching its boiling point.

He finally looks away from your mouth, meeting your eyes as he speaks with a raised eyebrow and a flirtatious little grin. “I can’t kiss you from anywhere else, can I?”

There, with soapy water dripping down your forearms and onto the floor and the faint chatter of your friends in the other room, Haechan kisses you for the first time. 

His lips are warm and soft, and his hands are still slightly damp as one cups the side of your neck, thumb gently stroking your cheek, and the other presses against the small of your back, drawing you in closer. 

As your lips move against the other’s, you come to your senses slightly and regain control of your body, wrapping one arm around his neck before pulling back quickly in realization.

His eyes are still closed for a fleeting moment after the kiss, lips parted slightly before he opens his eyes and regards you curiously. 

“My hands,” you mumble before he has a chance to misread the situation, wiping them on your jeans hurriedly as your eyes fixate on a drop of water on the floor to avoid looking at him, “they’re all wet. From the sink water—”

Haechan calls your name with a laugh on the tip of his tongue, and you drag your gaze to meet his.

“Yes?”

“I don’t care about that.” he assures you, pulling you back in and slotting his lips with yours. “Just kiss me.” It’s mumbled into and against your mouth, just like your responding nervous (but excited) giggle into and against his own, but it’s understood all the same, and you do. 

You do kiss him again—and again—and again, until you manage to separate from him long enough to turn off the sink water—and again, as he hooks his index finger through one of the front belt loops on your jeans and pulls you in closer, his other hand squeezing your hip—and once more, before the sound of footsteps coming towards the kitchen finally forces you two apart.

Haechan’s cheeks are reddened, yours are blazing with heat, neither of you can stop smiling, and the room is filled with tension so palpable that Mijoo and Renjun look between the two of you in confusion, sharing a bewildered glance between themselves before placing their dishes in the sink and exiting the kitchen.

(And then you kiss him again.)

Late one night, you’re awake in bed, scrolling through social media apps mindlessly, when a text comes in on your phone.

haechan: are you awake

you: no

haechan: ha ha very funny

haechan: i’m bored

you: me too

haechan: keep me company :)

haechan: come over

you: no it’s 3am

haechan: so? come over

you: i’m cozy i’m not moving

haechan: stubborn ass

you: :( mean

haechan: don’t worry i actually love your ass

you: :O that’s not very platonic of you

haechan: come over and i’ll show you just how not-platonic i can get

you: i’m not moving

haechan: UGH

you: :p sorry !! i have snacks in here i’m never leaving

haechan: …what kinds of snacks

You have a feeling you know where this is heading, so you muster the energy to get out of bed and head to your front door, unlocking it and heading back to your room.

you: come over and find out

haechan: gimme a sec

There’s radio silence for several minutes, then you hear a knock on the front door.

you: it’s unlocked :) 

Despite the preparation you took for his arrival, you decide to get up and meet him, heading down the hall to see him shutting the door behind himself, locking the door and kicking off his slides.

“Hi,” you say with a smile, and he frowns at you in disapproval, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder at the door. “What?”

“You know how risky it is to leave your door unlocked?” Haechan asks as you get closer to him. 

“It was unlocked for a total of fifteen minutes, max.” You roll your eyes, letting out a chuckle.

“So? That’s more than enough time.”

“Time for what, exactly?”

“Enough time for someone to sneak in here and,” Haechan focuses on your lips, staring at them as he continues in a softer, more suggestive voice, “have their way with you.”

You smile, amused, and make a show of looking all around. Leaning in, you whisper, “Haechan, you’re the only one here; are you planning to have your way with me?” 

Haechan grins mischievously. “That’s a secret.” When you gasp and push his shoulder, he laughs and puts his hands up in surrender. “I’m kidding!”

“Sure,” you scoff, narrowing your eyes at him. “C’mon, it’s cold in here and the heat’s on in my room.” He follows you into the kitchen, cheering silently when you grab the produce bag of mandarins and head to your room. Kicking off your slippers, you climb onto your bed, Haechan following suit, and sit cross-legged, placing the bag of mandarins in front of you. 

Haechan sits in front of you as you reach for a mandarin, peeling it with ease and separating a piece, offering it to Haechan. He takes it readily, chewing contently as he peels a mandarin of his own, offering you a piece of his. 

You’re not entirely sure why you two are swapping pieces as opposed to just eating your respective mandarins, but you figure there’s something tender about sharing the fruit with each other.

“What was keeping you up tonight?” you ask curiously, offering him another piece. 

“Hm?” He looks up at you, handing you the mandarin piece he just separated. 

“Your FOMO,” you remind him, and he grins as he thinks back to your first real conversation on the night you got locked out. “What did you not wanna miss out on tonight?”

“Talking to you,” he coos flirtatiously, and you roll your eyes and scoff in amusement. 

“Sure.”

“I’m serious!”

“You didn’t even know I was up!”

“That was the point of texting you. If you hadn’t answered, I would’ve just gone to bed.” he counters, and your cheeks warm at how endearing it is that he was waiting to talk to you.

“Cute.” you mumble, and he raises his eyebrows in surprise, grinning and leaning closer to you. You groan with a laugh, and stuff your last piece of mandarin in his mouth. “Shut up.”

“Hey!”

“No talking with your mouth full,” you point out, and he narrows his eyes at you playfully before chewing it and focusing on pulling the last bits of pith off of his last piece of mandarin.

“Open,” Haechan murmurs, bringing the piece to your mouth. You give him a funny look, but he nods in confirmation and wiggles the piece, dropping it in his haste but managing to catch it before it lands. His index finger’s half punctured it, juice from the section dripping down his finger to the knuckle, and he frowns (very cutely, you might add) and moves to put it in his mouth instead.

You don’t know what possesses you. Maybe the universe’s pushing you to finally do something about all the tension that’s built up between you two. Whatever it is, you suppose you owe it a thank you.

You catch his hand halfway to his mouth and steer it towards yours instead. He raises an eyebrow, looking from his hand to you curiously, and you swallow thickly.

The bead of juice drips down ever so slightly, as if reminding you to make your move, and so you do. Wrapping your fingers around his wrist, you take the mandarin piece into your mouth, pushing it to the inside of your cheek, and lick the droplet off of his finger, halting when your tongue reaches his fingertip and looking at him for a sign of something, anything.

His eyes have a wild glint to them and he looks up from your mouth to your eyes, raising both eyebrows this time in a silent challenge.

You suck his finger into your mouth, and he groans under his breath, shifting closer to you as he watches his finger disappear between your lips. 

The look in his eyes—like he’s about to lunge at you, frankly—and his slightly parted lips work together to wipe your mind blank, your eyes glazing over as you suck on his finger. Meeting his gaze with heavy-lidded eyes, you swirl your tongue around the digit and he hisses, leaning in so closely your noses are almost touching.

His attention shifts between your mouth and your eyes rapidly, slowly wetting his bottom lip and tucking it between his teeth. Experimentally, he pulls his finger back slightly and you truly don’t know what comes over you but you whine, sucking slightly harder.

He pulls his finger out of your mouth and raises his eyebrows at your disappointed, slightly dazed expression. He shifts back slightly, as if remembering the situation you two are in, and you take the opportunity to chew and swallow the piece of mandarin stuffed in your cheek.

“Don’t give me that look.” His voice is low and dangerously soft, the warning more than prevalent. 

“What look?” It’s a struggle to say it without sounding breathy or whiny, but you manage, mentally patting yourself on the back. 

“Don’t play dumb,” he warns you, “you know exactly what you’re doing.”

You don’t, actually. You kind of wish you did. Maybe you’d have a better idea of what he’s thinking.

Haechan looks down to the side, staring at your comforter hosting the mandarin rinds, and starts to speak. “You know, I don’t wanna ruin our friendship, but I keep thinking about our kiss the other week.”

You don’t blame him; it’s shifted your relationship subtly but noticeably and you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t frequently occupying your mind. Ever since that evening and the kisses you two shared, you couldn’t stop thinking about how he held you, his taste, his smell, the almost desperate way your lips kept connecting, the way his smile felt against your mouth—

“Ruin it.” Your voice is barely above a whisper, but he hears you all the same, his eyes lighting up with excitement as he stares at your lips. He leans closer, moving his body towards yours as he brings himself within kissing distance, and a tremble of excitement travels down your spine as you do the same.

“I really want to kiss you right now.” Haechan confesses in a hushed murmur, and you nod encouragingly, reaching up and tentatively placing your hand on the side of his neck.

“Do it.”

And he does. Surging forward, he connects your lips in a feverish kiss—he tastes faintly of mandarin on his tongue, sweet and bright and tangy all in one and you whine into his mouth as he leans over you, pressing your back into your mattress. 

His lips move with yours desperately, his hands clutching at your sides and pulling you against him, his hips pushing yours into the mattress as he sucks on your bottom lip and groans sinfully. Your fingers curl in the hair at the nape of his neck, tugging him closer to you and parting your legs for him to settle between them.

He takes the invitation immediately, resting between your legs as his kisses grow needier and deeper, his tongue flicking against yours before he parts from you, propping himself up on his hands as he breathes heavily, looking down at you with that wild-eyed gaze from earlier.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, your free hand gripping the front of his shirt as you try to pull him back down to you. 

Shaking his head, he swallows thickly and says, “I think that if we keep going,” his tongue swiping over his lips, “I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop.”

“Who said I want you to stop?” You tilt your head to the side curiously, and he pauses, looking at you with a brow raised questioningly. He scans your face, you shooting him an expectant look and tugging on his shirt impatiently, before inhaling sharply and leaning back down to kiss you again.

“You are so—” he mumbles distractedly, kissing you fervently and nipping at your lip gently. 

“So?” you press curiously, gasping when his lips trail down from yours to your jaw to your neck, sucking and nipping at the skin.

“Dangerous,” he finishes, muffled from his ministrations on your neck, one hand squeezing your hip and gliding it up and down your side comfortingly. “Can we take this off?” he tugs at the hem of your sleep shirt, looking up at you hopefully.

“Yeah,” you agree, and he grins, pushing the shirt up past your chest. You sit up slightly so you can pull it off your torso, laughing when Haechan’s expectant smiling face reappears after the shirt’s done blocking your view.

“Hi.”

“Hi, Haechan,” you laugh, pulling him back to you with one hand as your other tosses your shirt off the bed. 

“Have I ever told you that I love when you say my name?” Haechan’s lips resume kissing down your neck, sucking at a spot just above your collarbones.

“No,” you breathe, your inhale catching in your throat when his lips kiss lower to your chest, his hands pushing your breasts together and covering the exposed flesh in kisses. His tongue gliding in your cleavage, he sucks at a spot just above your bra, one hand slipping under you to unclip it.

“Love it so much,” he groans, pulling your bra off hurriedly and discarding it before taking one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking it and swirling his tongue around it slowly.

“Feels so good, Haechan,” you sigh happily, running your fingers through his hair as he sucks on the stiffened bud, one hand kneading your breast as he teases your nipple with his tongue.

He pulls back from you slightly, using the tip of his tongue to flick at your nipple, his hand leaving your breast and snaking down your stomach to slip into your shorts. When his fingers graze your clit over your underwear, you whine lowly and rock your hips up into his hand.

“Oh, you like that, huh?” Haechan mumbles around your breast with a grin, his middle and ring fingers tracing around your clit teasingly.

“Yeah,” you half-exhale, half-whimper, attempting to angle your hips just right so his fingers press against the sensitive button. He chuckles at your efforts and complies, pressing against your clit and rubbing circles into it.

The room is filled with the sounds of your labored breathing and small moans, as well as the wet noises of Haechan sucking on your nipples, switching between breasts by kissing along your chest.

Growing impatient, Haechan pushes his hand into your underwear, the palm of his hand pressing against your clit as two fingers tease your entrance. When you whine plaintively, he obliges, pushing the two digits into you slowly.

Your hips lift up off of the bed and push down towards his fingers, somehow both avoiding and leaning into his touch, and he tsks quietly in disapproval, guiding your hips back down onto the bed as his fingers keep pushing in until they’re buried inside of you.

“That’s it,” he whispers encouragingly, leaning up to kiss you deeply, his fingers curling as he pumps them in and out and gradually builds up a rhythm that has your breath coming in short gasps. “Feel so good around my fingers, baby.” Haechan coos sweetly, tongue trailing along your lip.

“Haechan, faster,” you urge, walls tightening around his fingers and making him hiss. “Go faster—”

“Like this?” he teases lightly, taking your bottom lip between his teeth gently and tugging it as his fingers speed up, fingers curling into a spot along your inner walls that makes you cry out weakly, clutching his arm to brace yourself. “Yeah, like that,” he mutters more so to himself, grinning and releasing your lip in favor of kissing your neck. 

His fingers are skilled and controlled, but his kisses are nothing short of a frenzy, his mouth seeming to attempt to cover as much ground as possible and coax you over the edge. It’s working, frankly, as your peak approaches and you grind down on his palm pressed against your clit, the added sensation dizzying.

“So close,” you moan, biting your lip to muffle the noises you desperately want to let out, and Haechan nips sharply at your neck, making you wince and pull back to look at him.

“Wanna hear you,” he murmurs.

“But—my roommates—”

“I don’t care.” He grins at you mischievously, his pace speeding up and making wet noises sound out from where his fingers disappear into you.

“Haechan—oh, shit,” you shudder as your climax hits, whining his name loudly as pleasure floods through your body, ebbing and flowing like tidal waves. Your nails digging into his arm, he winces slightly but keeps finger-fucking you until you’re pushing his arm away in a desperate attempt to protect your sensitive clit. “Too much!”

“Aw, c’mon, you can give me another one,” he taunts, and you shake your head, wrapping your legs around him and pushing your hips up.

“If I’m cumming again,” you say slowly, making sure he hears you clearly, “it’s gonna be with you inside of me.”

He hesitates, eyes widening almost imperceptibly, and gapes at you.

“You’re serious?”

“I’m serious.”

“God, you’re unreal.” he mumbles in awe, hurriedly kicking off his sweats. He curses when they get tangled by his ankles and you giggle, cupping his face to get his attention. 

When his eyes are on yours, you smile reassuringly. “I’m right here,” you remind him. “I’m not gonna change my mind.”

“You’re not?” he asks, and you scoff in amusement, shaking your head.

“Not even if you take more than three seconds to take your pants off.”

He chuckles and nods, tugging them off and tossing them off of the side of the bed. “Your turn,” he says, staring pointedly at your shorts.

You lift your hips up and shimmy out of the shorts, chucking them in the same general direction Haechan threw his pants in. He doesn’t even let you pull off your underwear, shaking his head at you and instead pushing his boxers down to the middle of his thighs, his length slapping up against his stomach. 

“Stop staring at my dick like that,” he mumbles shyly, and you shake your head slightly to snap yourself out of your daze. “I feel…scrutinized.”

“I’m appreciating it,” you assure him, and the unmistakable proud puffing of his chest makes you smile.

“Yeah?” he muses, leaning over you and guiding himself to your entrance, pushing your underwear to the side. You almost prefer this way, you think, something about the desperation laden in having sex with your clothes just barely shoved out of the way.

“Yeah,” you whisper, excitement creeping into your voice as he glides the shaft between your slick folds, collecting your arousal.

“Let’s see if you appreciate it more like this,” he breathes, pushing into you slowly, and your back arches as you inhale loudly. “Good?”

“So good,” you mumble, nodding encouragingly, and he licks his lips before bottoming out and groaning in pleasure. “Feels so full,” you say, and he nods, his brows furrowed in concentration.

“You’re so tight,” he grunts, pulling out slowly before pushing back into you quickly, eyes brightening at the moan you let out. He repeats the action, slowly moving inside of you and speeding up his thrusts until he’s built a rhythm that has little moans and whimpers spilling from you every time he bottoms out.

“God, yes,” you cry out, clutching his arm that’s propping him up by your head and turning your face towards it, biting down on his wrist to silence yourself.

“I wanna hear you,” he reminds you, shaking his hand until you release his wrist. “Every little sound you make—I want it.”

“Haechan,” you whine, and he growls softly in determination.

“That’s it, baby, just like that.” he encourages you, driving his hips into you in quick, powerful strokes.

You cup your breast with one hand, rolling your nipple between your fingers, and bring the other to your clit, rubbing it in quick circles that make your abdomen clench.

“God, that’s so hot,” Haechan mutters in awe, greedy eyes roving over your body admiringly as you pleasure yourself. “Want you to cum,” he urges, and you nod, your breath hitching.

“I’m close,” you confirm, and he hikes your leg up, resting it on his hip and angling himself towards it so his thrusts hit that spot along your walls that makes you see stars. “Yes, right there—”

“Right here?” His playful lilt drips confidence and only arouses you more, desire burning fiercely through you, an inferno blazing in your veins.

“Yeah,” you pant, whinier than ever as your desperation builds. “Right—fuck—” you hiss, your climax rushing to meet you and overpowering your senses. Your eyelids flutter shut and your mouth falls open, shaky breaths and broken moans of his name escaping you as his length pistons in and out of you quickly. Haechan doesn’t stop, keeping the same pace and power as your body stiffens before ultimately going limp.

“Good?” He rouses you from your daze, and you open your eyes to shoot him a dopey smile.

“Yeah,” you sigh blissfully, and he grins before leaning down so you’re nose to nose.

“My turn.” He thrusts into you even faster, the rhythmic sounds of your bodies meeting filling the room as you move to cover your mouth as hurried, frantic, and uncontrollable noises of pleasure leave you. “Look at you,” he coos, his words punctuated with each thrust. “Couldn’t be quiet even if you tried.”

“Hae—chan—” you stutter out, and he chuckles, bringing his lips to your ear.

“Music to my fucking ears.” His thrusts slow down as he groans with pleasure, his length throbbing inside of you as his pattern shifts to slower, more powerful snaps of his hips into yours. “Gonna cum—where do you—fuck—want it?”

“Inside,” you stammer, and he pulls back from your ear to look at you with unbridled excitement. “Cum inside.”

“God, you’re gonna be the death of me—” He climaxes without another word, biting down on your neck as he releases into you. His breath is hot against your flesh, moistening the skin as he digs his teeth into you and makes you whine in complaint, only releasing you in favor of sucking at the now sore spot. 

His thrusts finally come to a stop, Haechan burying himself in you to the hilt as your walls clench around him, milking his orgasm for all it’s worth. Neither of you move for a while, just remaining in the moment with each other, before Haechan slowly pulls out of you and moves to lie on his back beside you. 

Your walls clench around nothing, your face contorting in discomfort when a mix of your releases feels like it’s leaking out of you.

“I’ll be right back,” you murmur softly, and he looks over at you worriedly, the concern fading when you shoot him a warm, reassuring smile. You squeeze his hand comfortingly and climb off of the bed, readjusting your underwear and pulling your shorts back on. You shuffle to the bathroom awkwardly, cleaning yourself up and washing your hands before returning to your room. 

“Hey!” you complain when you return, looking at Haechan under your covers.

He looks at you in surprise, slightly worried. “Was I supposed to be leaving?”

“What? No—you’re laying on my side.” you explain, pointing at your pillow, and his shoulders slump in relief as he rolls his eyes slightly and shifts over to the other pillow.

“God, I thought you were having, like, post-nut clarity or something and wanted me to leave, never to be seen again.” he rambles, and you stop mid-stride, looking at him with your eyebrows raised in amusement.

“You’re ridiculous.” You continue your path to your bed, climbing under the covers and putting the bag of mandarins on your nightstand. “The only post-nut clarity realization I’m having is that I am sleepy.” 

“Me too,” he sighs. “Be right back,” he says, climbing out of the bed and scooping up the mandarin rinds, tossing them in your garbage on his way out of the room. You curl up on your side as you wait for him to get back, smiling softly to yourself as you recall the events that just transpired.

Your light turns off, shrouding your room in darkness save for where the moonlight delicately peeks through your windows, and Haechan clambers back into the bed, lying behind you stiffly before muttering, “Fuck it,” and draping an arm over your stomach, snuggling up to you.

“Good night, Haechan,” you murmur softly, and he hums contently, nuzzling his face into the back of your neck.

“Good night.”

Waking up doesn’t quite go the way you usually expect. 

Before you can even open your eyes, you feel an arm draped over your midsection and hear something—or someone—stirring slightly beside you.

In your just-woken-up foggy mindset, you try to recall what in the fresh hell is going on, only to be jolted out of your focus by the realization that you can quite literally feel the person beside you staring at you.

Peeking won’t do any good given that they’re literally looking dead at you, so you keep working on pushing away the grogginess clouding your sensibilities. 

“I can tell you’re awake, y’know.” 

Ah. Well, that solves that.

Opening one eye, you peek at Haechan, who’s watching you in fond amusement with his head propped up on his hand, elbow just beneath the pillow his head was just resting on. 

“Good morning.” He sounds teasing, the greeting pointed as you realize you haven’t yet said anything.

“Morning,” you croak, and he chuckles, settling back down so he’s lying beside you. 

You move to sit up and he whines immediately, pulling you back down none too gently. 

“Don’t get up yet,” he murmurs, and you furrow your brows.

“Why not?”

“Give me a second and I’ll think of a really good reason.”

You let out an amused snort and comply, lying back down. You shift slightly so you’re fully on your back and Haechan takes the opportunity to move closer to you, letting out a soft content sigh as he rests his head on your shoulder. “You’re awfully cuddly.”

“I’m always cuddly,” Haechan counters, and you nod slowly.

“You’ve got a point,” you agree.

He doesn’t speak for a moment, instead starting to shift away from you as he says, “I can stop if you want—”

“No!” you protest immediately, clutching onto his arm resting on you. “I like it.” He pauses and looks back at you with a relieved smile before settling back into place. 

“Good.” His arm tightening around you, Haechan’s head ducks down, nuzzling into the space between your chin and shoulder where he exhales softly against your neck, chuckling when you squirm under him.

“Mm, you like that?” he murmurs, sucking his teeth when you shake your head. “Sure, you don’t.” You can practically hear him rolling his eyes and, as if to prove his point, he presses his mouth to your skin in a lazy kiss, lips parting to suck gently. 

Your breath hitches and he snickers, repeating the action over and over again, lips kissing and sucking with no restraint, lewd grunts leaving him as he positions himself to get better access to you. 

When his tongue peeks out to lick the dewy patch of skin he’s been sucking on, you accidentally let out a choked whimper and he hesitates before pulling back and looking at you.

Averting your gaze, you can’t help but look sheepish under his probing stare, that knowing grin you’re so familiar with growing on his face in your peripheral vision. 

“Did you just moan?”

“That was not a moan!”

“So you admit you made a noise.” He looks smug at your inadvertent confession, and you grumble indistinctly under your breath. “It’s okay if I turn you on, you know.” Haechan says with a sympathetic pat to your hip, cackling when you push him away with an embarrassed huff. 

“You suck,” you mutter, and he ducks his head to press an obnoxiously loud and sloppy kiss to your neck. Your squeal of disgust rings out along with his laughter as he shuffles further down on the bed, pressing languid kisses to your body as he goes. “Where are you going?” you giggle when you feel his fingers inching up the hem of your shirt and his breath exhaling on your navel. “Haechan!” you yelp in alarm as his tongue dips into your belly button, reaching down to swat his head away.

His fingers are hooking in your shorts and yanking them down your legs before you can even process the situation, the blanket lifting slightly for his hand to fling them off the bed. 

He catches your hand by the wrist and presses it down on the bed by your hip, dotting kisses just above the waistband of your underwear as you wriggle under him uselessly.

“Remember that reason I was gonna give you to stay in bed?” he murmurs, the warmth of his breathing causing arousal to stir in your belly. “This is it.” He doesn’t say anything else, instead kissing your clit over your underwear with a low content hum. Your thighs reflexively move to close him out, but he pins them in place, palms flat against your inner thighs as he spreads them wider.

He presses another kiss to your clothed clit—and another, and another, until the room is filled with the sounds of his noisy kisses and your unsteady breathing. His kisses travel lower until he’s kissing at the very seat of your underwear, teasing over your entrance as his nose rubs against your clit.

Your breath catches in your throat when his tongue flattens against the seat of your underwear, no doubt tasting the arousal that’s begun to seep through the fabric. His almost ticklish ministrations have your insides fluttering with need and nerves, his moans only escalating the situation as they get lower and longer, croaky with desire.

He drags his tongue up your underwear from your entrance to your clit, swirling his tongue around the gentle imprint of the sensitive button and sucking on it until your thighs start to tremble. 

“Haechan, please,” you whisper, not trusting your voice to remain steady at a louder volume. He hums questioningly, flicking over your clit with the tip of his tongue rapidly and pushing your hips back down when they buck into his face.

“Please, what?” You can’t see him due to his being under the covers, but you can imagine the smug little grin on his face right now.

“Please don’t stop,” you whine, and he hums—loudly and contently—before pressing another kiss to your clit.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, baby.” His fingers collect the fabric of your underwear just above your clit and tug it upwards, making you gasp in surprise. He tugs up harder until the thin fabric of the seat of your underwear scrunches together and slips between your lips, flesh spilling out onto either side of the damp, essentially useless garment.

Your moans escalate in pitch as he tugs the underwear up repeatedly, delivering pressure and friction to your clit that’s almost dizzying but just slightly not enough. His tongue drags up your now exposed lips, sucking them into his mouth and licking over them to coat them with his saliva, replacing the slick arousal leaking from your core.

“Haechan,” you whimper, truthfully unaware of what you want—you know you want more, and you know he’s going to give it to you, if not more for himself than for you, if his blissful sighing is anything to go by. 

He doesn’t dignify you with a response, instead releasing your skin from his mouth and latching onto your inner thigh as he slowly kisses at the heated flesh, slowly pulling your underwear to the side to reveal your glistening core.

A sharp intake of breath sounds from under the covers, and before you can ask what’s happened, he groans and your clit is enveloped in his mouth as he sucks greedily at the bud.

“Holy shit,” you gasp, clutching at the bedsheets over where you know his head to be. The hand he’s been using to hold your wrist hostage slips down to link his fingers with yours in an intimate gesture that makes you glad he can’t see your unbelievably flustered face. “Fuck, just like that,” you urge quietly, and he responds by rolling his tongue over your clit, only releasing it to lap up the arousal coating your folds.

“Tastes so good,” he grunts, lips brushing against your throbbing clit as he speaks. “Such a pretty pussy, too, baby.”

Your only reply is a weak whimper as his tongue explores your core with an almost feral eagerness. He pauses, fingers slipping from yours as he uses both hands to yank your underwear as far down your legs as he can manage while still being between them, and resumes his fervent licking, digits linking with yours once more.

Tugging the hood of your clit back to expose more of the sensitive bud, he coos affectionately at the revealed button—an action that makes your cheeks burn from shyness—and flicks his tongue all over and around it before sucking it into his mouth and humming contently.

“You like that, yeah?” Haechan’s voice is throaty when he speaks, thick with desire as he practically slurs his words at you. “Like when I suck on your little clit like that?”

“Yeah,” you whine breathlessly, nodding vigorously even though he can’t see you. “Yeah, I like it—”

“Wanna feel my tongue in your pretty pussy, baby? Hm?” He’s practically taunting you, but you can’t even be bothered to care, your climax hovering just out of reach. “Wanna fuck yourself on my tongue?”

“Shut up, just please—” You don’t get to finish whatever thought you were going to vocalize, as Haechan’s tongue prodding at your entrance wipes your mind clear of any functionality. “Yes—more—need more—”

He licks all around your entrance first, loud and lewd noises of him lapping up your slick barely muffled by the barrier of the comforter, but finally obliges, pushing his pointed tongue into you as far as the pink muscle will allow.

The sigh of relief you let out is cathartic, the sound tapering off into an unmistakable moan as he urges your hips down towards his face. Taking the cue, you rock your hips into his face, movements jerky as his tongue glides in and out of you and renders you incapable of anything other than moaning and fucking onto him.

“Haechan, gonna—I’m gonna—” you moan, body shuddering with anticipation, and he just keeps guiding your hips against his face, not stopping even as your peak hits and your muscles stiffen reflexively, movements stuttering to a stop as you remain frozen, hips in the air and abdomen tightening. He smacks your ass lightly to get your attention and resumes your motions against his mouth, nose deliberately bumping against your highly sensitive clit. “Shit, Haechan, I’m done—”

Your weak attempts to wriggle away from him are only met with a forceful yanking of your body back into place and his tongue retracting from you in favor of licking at your clit. “I’m not,” Haechan mumbles determinedly, and the urgency in his voice makes you balk, your breath hitching again as he licks you to yet another climax. 

When you come down from this high, your mind is fuzzy in the best of ways, your consciousness only distantly aware of Haechan emerging from under the covers and reassuming his position next to you with a pleased hum, pressing his spit and arousal slicked lips to your collarbone in a quick kiss.

“That was fun,” he coos, his nose brushing against your neck, and you chuckle weakly, nodding. 

“It was more than fun.” 

“Good. In that case,” Haechan muses, his arm tightening around you as he pulls you impossibly closer. He tangles his legs with yours, his knee pushing against your half-removed underwear, and continues, “I think I earned staying in bed with you for a bit longer, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you half-chuckle, half-exhale, and he grins, lips pressed against your neck.

“Good. Now go back to sleep,” he urges, and you’re about to attempt to oblige when a knock on your door jolts you both out of your daze. His eyes widening almost comically, he ducks his head back under the covers and you redistribute the comforter to look slightly less suspicious.

“Come in!” you call, and the door opens to reveal Mijoo leaning against your door frame. “Hey!”

“Good morning,” she greets you with a warm smile. “We’re ordering breakfast from the diner down the street; do you want anything?”

“Uh—the breakfast platter with waffles, please.” you answer, and she nods.

“Great. Hey, Haechan?” she calls, and you both stiffen before a sheepish Haechan pokes his head out from under the covers. “Do you want breakfast?”

“Yes, please,” he says eagerly, and you snort in amusement. “Can I have the breakfast platter with waffles, too?”

“You got it.” Mijoo raises two fingers to her head in a mock salute before moving to shut the door. 

“Wait!” you whisper-shout after her, and she pauses, raising an eyebrow at you expectantly. “How did you know Haechan was here?”

“His shoes are by the front door,” she answers simply, and your body slackens with relief. “You moaning his name also helped.”

“…Sorry.” you mumble sheepishly, and she shrugs.

“You’re lucky we were already awake.”

“We weren’t that loud!” Your brows furrow as you look at her defensively, and she snickers, shaking her head.

“You’re right; I’m just messing with you.” she smiles teasingly, and you huff, frowning at her petulantly. “Okay, gonna go order now.”

A small “hmph” is all you have to say, and she shuts the door, leaving you and Haechan alone with each other once more.

Looking over at you curiously, Haechan grins before leaning up to kiss between your eyebrows where the skin is furrowed, then your nose, and finally your lips, his mouth lingering against yours. 

“You’re cute when you pout.” he mumbles fondly, and your cheeks blaze something fierce as you fight down a bashful smile. He pulls back slightly, studying your face before connecting your mouths again, this time parting his lips and sneaking his tongue into your mouth. The taste of your arousal transfers from his tongue to yours and you can’t help but whine from how arousing it is to taste yourself on someone else. “Don’t tempt me.” he mutters against your lips, and you nod in understanding.

“Sorry.” you say softly, and he chuckles before pressing a light kiss to your lips again and pulling back.

“It’s okay. Now, we only have so much more nap time before the food gets here,” he reminds you, collapsing back onto the bed and pulling you into his embrace, “so we’d better make the most of it.”

“Haechan, we can’t sleep now,” you point out, “we have to at least wash up and get dressed or something.”

“But—” he whines, and you kiss him quickly to shut him up. 

It works.

“We can do all that and then, if there’s still time, we can come and get back in bed,” you suggest, and he screws his face up in thought. “It’s not like you’re gonna wanna get back in bed once we get up, anyway.”

“I’ll take that challenge!” He releases you and rolls out of the bed, miscalculating slightly as he falls on the floor with a thud and an “oof!”

“It wasn’t a challenge,” you reply, trying (and failing) to hold back your laughter as you peer over the edge of your bed at a disgruntled Haechan lying spread-eagled on his back.

“Stop laughing,” he gripes, reaching a hand out to you. “Help me up?” he asks hopefully, and you take his hand to pull him up, yelping in shock when he tugs hard and pulls you out of the bed and on top of him. “Oof!” 

“Genius.” you drawl, and his hands just link behind you on the small of your back.

“Now, who’s laughing?” he points out, and you raise an eyebrow.

“Still me. You broke my fall.” you say with a snicker, and he hesitates before huffing in mild frustration.

“Well, maybe I should get a reward for being so gentlemanly.” He wiggles his eyebrows at you suggestively. “Like a kiss.”

“Given that you’re the reason I even had a fall to break,” you answer, patting his chest, “I’m gonna pass.” His face falls as he frowns up at you, and you roll your eyes, leaning down and pressing the quickest of kisses to his cheek before standing up and pulling your (highly uncomfortable, now cold and damp) underwear back up your legs to retain whatever dignity you have left.

“Aw, I only get a cheek kiss for breaking your fall?” he complains as you pull him to his feet, and you stare at him, unimpressed.

“You’re the reason I fell!”

“Excuses, excuses, excuses,” he grumbles, waving you off dismissively. “We live in a cruel and unjust world.”

“That we do,” you agree. “Now go put some pants on.”

“I think they gave you more food than me,” Haechan sulks, and you look at his container, then yours, then back at his.

“They definitely did.” you agree, grinning.

He narrows his eyes at you. “Don’t gloat.”

“But I love gloating,” you say with a frown. “It’s my third favorite thing to do.”

“Oh, yeah?” Haechan chuckles, looking over at you. “What’s the first?”

“Bragging.”

He snorts loudly. “Got it. Second?”

“Rubbing things in people’s faces.” You grin at him, and he raises one eyebrow. You suspect you’ve walked into a trap of some sort. “What?”

“I know something you could rub in my face.” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, and your eyes widen as you smack his arm and turn away from him to hide your incredibly flustered face. “I’m kidding!” You peek over your shoulder at him to see his hands raised in surrender and you cautiously turn back to face forward. “Unless…”

“Haechan, get out!” you shriek, the warmth returning to your face as you wave him away frantically.

“No can do, sorry.” He shrugs in your peripheral vision. “I wanna see how cute you look all flustered.”

“Stop teasing me,” you huff.

“But I love teasing,” Haechan says, nudging your side pointedly as he throws your words back in your face. “It’s my third favorite thing to do.”

“I’m not gonna ask what the first two are,” you mumble, turning back to face forward when the heat in your cheeks has dissipated somewhat and you feel less flustered.

“Aw, c’mon,” he whines, shaking your arm. “Please?”

“No.”

“Please?”

“Nope.”

He takes a deep breath. “Please, please, please, please, please—”

“Oh, my God, fine!” you exclaim, lunging at him and clapping a hand over his mouth. “What are the first two things?” you ask, cautiously moving your hand. You move to sit back in your spot, but Haechan grabs your arm that’s propping you up above him, keeping you in place.

“Kissing you is second.” He looks up at you with bright eyes and you would scoff and disregard the comment if it didn’t seem so genuine, a bashful smile curling your lips.

“What’s first?” You blink down at him curiously. 

“Hanging out with you.” He grins widely, and you open and close your mouth pointlessly, no words coming forth to rescue you from looking stupid. “Cute.” he coos, leaning up so you’re face to face. Studying your face carefully, his lips part slightly as he tilts his head to the side. Speaking softly, he asks, “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Depends,” you answer, speaking just as softly. “Are you thinking about the fact that eggs don’t taste good cold?”

He gives you a disapproving look. “No, actually. Now I am.”

“Great,” you muse, pulling back and sitting in your spot once more. “Now eat so I can press play.” You gesture with your fork towards your laptop which is sitting just in front of you both, the screen paused on a scene from Chicken Little. 

“I don’t know why we didn’t pick a Christmas movie to watch.” Haechan says with a small huff. “Where’s your holiday spirit?”

“We can watch a different movie,” you reply easily, gesturing towards the screen. “Just pick one.”

“Oh, hell yeah,” he mutters triumphantly under his breath, pulling the laptop to his lap.

“Don’t get syrup on my laptop!” you scold, plucking his fork from his hand and putting it in his container of food.

“Sorry, babe,” he mumbles distractedly, too focused on browsing for a good movie to notice the pet name that slipped out.

You, however, are unoccupied and therefore fully aware of it, your body freezing momentarily. Your face heats up for what feels like the millionth time and you partially forget that there’s food in your mouth, your jaw hanging slightly open as you sit in a stunned silence.

“Found one!” Haechan announces proudly, placing your laptop back on the bed and looking over at you, his brow furrowing in confusion. “You okay?”

“Yep!” you agree way too quickly.

His eyes narrow. “That was way too quick.”

Damn it. “I’m okay,” you assure him, and he scrutinizes you for a moment longer before seeming to let it go and returning his attention to his food. Desperate to change the subject, you look at the screen and nod in approval. “The Grinch—nice choice.”

“Thank you,” he replies, smiling with satisfaction as he presses the spacebar to play the movie. You two eat in silence for a moment as the beginning credits roll, Haechan for some reason waiting until the movie actually starts to speak. “Oh, speaking of holiday spirit—”

“You couldn’t say this before the movie started?��� You look at him in disbelief, and he frowns (very cutely, once again) at you. “Sorry,” you mutter. “Continue.”

“Thank you,” he replies, the smile back on his face. “We’re having a holiday party on Christmas, and you’re invited.” 

“Me?” You point at yourself, confused, and he shoots you a funny look.

“No, the ghost slightly to your left.” He replies sarcastically, and you roll your eyes, Haechan letting out a small laugh. “Yes, you.”

“Okay,” you say slowly, processing. “Can I bring Mijoo and Chuu?”

“Duh?” He shoots you another funny look. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I am!” you defend yourself, a bit too loudly for your tastes this time. “I am,” you repeat, sounding more normal. “You only invited me, so I figured—”

“Well, you’re the only other person in this room.” He points out, and you nod slowly.

“Fair.”

“I mean, I do want you to come—like, specifically you.” Haechan clarifies, and you look over at him curiously.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “It’s a good time to give you your present.”

“You got me a present?” you ask softly, surprised, and if he shoots you any more funny looks, you think you’ll throttle him. “I just didn’t expect it!”

“Why not?” He stares at you, confused. “You think I’d invite you to a Christmas party and not give you a Christmas present?”

“Good point, I guess.” you say mostly to yourself. “I can give you yours then, too.” 

He clutches his chest dramatically, eyes sparkling with emotion. “You got me a present?”

You stare at him blankly, and he drops the act, looking at you pointedly.

“That’s how ridiculous you were just now.” He raises his eyebrows, and you gasp in disbelief.

“I didn’t moon over you, Haechan,” you defend yourself, and he shrugs.

“Maybe you should’ve. It would’ve been cute.” He grins at you, and you narrow your eyes. “Kidding!”

“No, you’re not.”

“No, I am not.” Haechan confirms, shaking his head. 

“Anyway,” you continue, side-eyeing him. “Will there be snacks?”

“Yep! The festive kind,” he says proudly. “Eggnog…gingerbread cookies…sugar cookies…”

“Peppermint bark?” you ask hopefully, and Haechan looks over at you with a small smile and a soft, fond look in his eyes.

“Why? Do you like peppermint bark?”

You suck your teeth, trying not to roll your eyes. “No, I actually can’t be within thirty yards of it for legal reasons—yes, I like peppermint bark!”

“Sassy pants.” he mutters under his breath. “If you like peppermint bark, then there will be peppermint bark.” He smiles at you, and you bounce twice in place from excitement. 

“Yay! I’ll be there.” you assure him. “Do I have to get Jaemin and Renjun presents, too?” 

“Nah, you don’t actually have to get anyone anything, actually. Just show up with good vibes.” He leans back against your headboard and smiles contently at you, unperturbed by your disapproving frown. 

“Did you get Mijoo and Chuu anything?” you ask, and he shakes his head. “Mm, but I’m a guest…”

“And I’m a host, and I hereby absolve you of any gift-buying duties.” Haechan announces with an air of grandeur, waving his hand dramatically. You snort in amusement and he looks at you with a satisfied grin. “I got Renjun’s and Jaemin’s gifts already—gave myself a paper cut trying to wrap it.” He frowns, showing you his thumb with a red line running along the knuckle, and you wince.

“Poor Haechan.” You pout, and he nods, batting his lashes at you in a pronounced display of cuteness. “Wait right here.” You pat his knee and get off of the bed, heading to the bathroom and returning with a bandage. 

“SpongeBob?” Haechan chuckles softly as you bring his hand onto your lap so you can apply the cartoon-themed bandage. “How old are you, again?”

“You can always leave,” you remind him in a warning tone, not looking up as you peel the backing strips off.

“I love SpongeBob, actually. Love that spongy guy.” Haechan says quickly, and you snicker quietly.

“Yeah, that’s more like it.” You wrap the bandage around his thumb and pat it gently for good measure, looking up at him. He’s staring at you with that unreadable look again, a soft smile on his lips, and you blink at him, confused. “What?”

“Nothing,” he says quietly, looking down at your handiwork. “I think it needs something.”

“We have ointment if you want it, I just figured you didn’t need it because it’s a paper cut—” Your words stop abruptly when Haechan brings his thumb up to your face, level with your mouth. “Can I help you?”

“Kiss it,” he presses, wiggling the appendage in front of your face. “To help it heal.”

“You’re kidding, right?” Your voice is flat but incredulous, and he frowns at you.

“So you can suck on my fingers,” he starts, your eyes widening in shock, “but you can’t give my thumb a teeny little kiss to make it better?” 

You stare at him. He matches your gaze with a smug little challenge glinting in his eyes. You lean forward and press a small kiss over the bandage where the small wound is, and he smiles in satisfaction. 

“Feels better already,” he coos teasingly, and you scoff, trying and failing to hide your amusement. 

“Okay, I’m gonna reheat my food and you’re gonna rewind the movie because we missed the whole beginning.” You get off the bed and Haechan offers you his container with a hopeful smile that only widens when you roll your eyes and take it from him.

“You’re the best!” He shouts as you head out of your room.

“I know!” you call back casually, doing an excellent job at hiding how the compliment makes you more than a bit giddy inside.

The day of the Christmas party has finally come, and you’re filled with nerves for some reason.

In the past couple of days leading up to the party, you and your friends have been wrapped up in work shifts, the holiday season bringing in extra high customer volume. It normally wouldn’t be a big deal, but this means you haven’t really had time to hang out with anyone, least of all Haechan.

And you miss him. You miss him more than you thought possible, miss his smile, his laugh, the twinkle in his eyes when he teases you—

It hits you when you’re walking home from work the day of the party: you really like Haechan. Like—a lot.

You already knew you were into him because, well, you can’t even think about him without feeling the urge to giggle like a schoolgirl. It’s the gravity of your feelings that startle you. 

More than kissing him, you like holding his hands and listening as he tells you the story of his crooked pinky for the millionth time.

More than sleeping with him, you like hanging out with him; no responsibilities, no expectations, no pressure, and you always leave feeling better than when you met up with him.

It’s this realization that has you hopping in the shower and dressing up slightly nicer before gathering your gifts in a tote bag—well, the ones you can fit, at least.

You knock on their front door and nibble your bottom lip gently before stopping abruptly, not wanting to do away with all of your lip balm before you even set foot in the party.

“Hey, you made it!” Jaemin cheers when he opens the door, and you can’t help but laugh at his joy.

“Yeah! Traffic was crazy in the fifteen feet between our front doors, but I made it,” you joke, following Jaemin into the living room. “Oh, I have your present!” You root through your bag before gently procuring his gift and handing it to him with a smile. 

His eyes widen and he coos fondly, reaching for it and cupping it in his hands. “I may be an adult in many forms of the word, but I have a soft spot for stuffed animals and this? This is just about the cutest stuffed animal I’ve ever seen.” He cradles the white bunny plushie like an infant, humming contently, and you blink in surprise.

“I’m glad you love it, don’t get me wrong,” you say slowly, “but you seem a lot more excited than I expected.”

“I may have had some eggnog,” he whispers conspiratorially, looking at your raised eyebrows and the unanswered question still written plainly on your face and continuing on to say, “I heard a rumor that it’s spiked.”

“Who started that?” you ask, confused, and Jaemin rubs the back of his neck, grinning sheepishly.

“Well, I did.” he answers. “Because I’m the one that spiked it.”

“Ah.” You nod in understanding, patting his chest gently. “That’s nice, Jaemin. Have, um, you seen—”

“Haechan’s in the kitchen.” he answers with a knowing smile, clearly coherent enough to know where you were going with your sentence. Or maybe it’s just that obvious that you could only be looking for him.

“Great,” you exhale in relief, nodding once before heading towards the kitchen. 

“I’ll give you your gift when it’s gift exchange time!” Jaemin calls after you, and your brows furrow.

“Would’ve been helpful to let me know there’s a gift exchange time.” You shake it off as you enter the kitchen and stop short as your eyes land on the person you were looking for.

Haechan’s back is facing you, hunched over as he fiddles with something you can’t see. There are a few other people in the kitchen, but they melt into the background as you clear your throat loudly, smiling when Haechan jolts in surprise before turning around to lock eyes with you.

You want to say that your heart didn’t skip a beat from seeing his face light up at the sight of you, but you’ve never been a very good liar. You offer a small wave in reply as he crosses the kitchen to get to you, barely having time to drop your arm before he’s pulling you into a tight hug. 

“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” Haechan pulls his head back slightly to grin at you. “I’m happy you made it.”

“Me too,” you say just loudly enough for him to hear, tucking your head back into the hug to hide the giddy smile overtaking your lips. Pulling away from the hug somewhat reluctantly, you take in his outfit and—“What are you wearing?”

Haechan looks down at his ugly—an understatement, really—Christmas sweater, obnoxiously vibrant and colorful with a gaudy reindeer on the front, stitched to be three-dimensional, and huffs petulantly. “I’m dressed for the festivities!”

“You look like the festivities threw up on your sweater.” you remark plainly, and he grumbles incoherently, wrinkling his nose in disapproval.

“Words hurt, you know.” 

“You’re right,” you agree, raising your hands in surrender. “I am so sorry. How in the world shall I make it up to you?” Your robotic and wholly insincere delivery just makes Haechan narrow his eyes at you, a snicker escaping you as you avert your gaze.

“A kiss might help.” He raises an eyebrow expectantly, a smug twinkle in his eye.

“I don’t know,” you mumble as you think about it—your friends and these other perfect strangers have never seen you kiss before, and you don’t know what the implications of such a public display of affection could be, and—

“You don’t have much of a choice, actually,” Haechan replies proudly, jerking his head towards the ceiling when you look at him in confusion.

You follow his direction with your eyes and there, hanging neatly from the ceiling’s smoke detector, is mistletoe.

You roll your eyes, pursing your lips in an attempt to hide the fond and amused smile pulling at the corners of your mouth. You grip the front of his hideous sweater and pull him closer to you, pressing the quickest of pecks to his lips you think you’ve ever placed.

His eyes barely get a chance to close before they’re flying open in surprise and he opens his mouth to complain, but you hold a finger up to silence him.

“That was a kiss.” you point out.

“A tiny one.” Haechan counters with a displeased frown, but one look down at your fist still holding his sweater makes him smile softly, apparently unable to maintain his dissatisfied appearance.

“I still did it.” You shrug, releasing his sweater and smoothing down the yarn you bunched up by accident. There really isn’t much of any way you could have made the sweater look worse by wrinkling it, truly, but it’s the gesture that counts.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he mumbles, eyes darting to something over your shoulder before they widen slightly and he looks back at you. “You’re just in time for the gift exchange, actually. Do you want something to eat or drink before we go into the living room?”   

“Sure,” you agree, and he leads you to the counter he was standing at when you came in. Your face lights up at a familiar snack as you reach your hand into the bowl and pull out a small fistful of individually wrapped chocolate pieces. “You got the peppermint bark!”

“That I did.” He smiles widely, clearly proud of himself, and you wrap your arm around his waist, squeezing gently. “Oh, and tip? Don’t drink the eggnog.”

“Yeah, Jaemin said he spiked it.” you snicker, and Haechan sucks his teeth.

“I knew it tasted funny.” 

The gift exchange goes about as smoothly as you’d expect. Chuu’s very appreciative of her reading pillow and bedside lamp, her eyes lighting up with excitement as she opens the gift from you, and you’re pleasantly surprised to see that Chuu got you one of the books you always mention that you’ve never quite gotten around to reading.

(“Now you don’t have any excuses,” Chuu says, smiling, and you nod slowly.

“I bet I’ll think of some more.”)

You’re thrilled when Mijoo gives you your gift, a full gel nail kit, and her expression no doubt matches yours when you take her back to the apartment to reveal her brand new mini skincare fridge.

(“I know this is for face masks and ampoules and the like, but—” Mijoo starts.

“You’re gonna put some snacks in it, aren’t you?”

“I’m definitely gonna put some snacks in it.” She nods in agreement before you two laugh and head back to the party.)

“Hey,” Haechan calls softly from behind you, and you turn to face him, noticing in your peripheral vision that Mijoo and Chuu give each other a knowing look before disappearing into the party. “I wanna give you your present.”

“Yeah, me too.” you reply, feeling an anxious thrumming in your stomach out of nowhere. Will he like it? Does he even really want it?

“Over here,” Haechan says, taking your hand and leading you to a more secluded corner of the party where the holiday music somehow doesn’t quite seem to reach as well. 

“Okay, how are we doing this?” you ask, reaching in your bag and pulling his gift out, holding it behind your back. “On three?” You brace yourself to reveal the gift only to panic and shake your head. “Never mind—I wanna go first.”

“Okay,” he chuckles, smiling at you with a delicate fondness you don’t often see from him. 

“Okay, close your eyes and put your hand out.” you urge him, and he obliges, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he waits. 

He looks so incredibly kissable right now, actually, you think. His lashes flutter delicately on his cheekbones and you can count each lovely little mole on his face without him making a teasing remark about how you’re mesmerized by him, and his lips look so soft and inviting—

“Hello?” Haechan laughs, and you blink out of your daze.

Right. Back on track. You swallow the lump in your throat and place his gift in his hand, clearing your throat nervously.

“You can open your eyes now.” You rock back and forth on the balls of your feet anxiously as he opens his eyes and looks down at his hand. 

“No way,” he whispers, blinking down at the vinyl in his hand in disbelief. “You’re kidding.”

“I am not,” you chuckle nervously, and he looks up from the vinyl to you in awe.

“I thought you said the record store was sold out—” This is the softest you’ve ever heard him speak, you think, and it’s actually very endearing.

“I may have fibbed.” You shrug casually, and a surprised laugh escapes him as he turns the vinyl this way and that. “There was one left. I hid it so I could buy it for you, because I know you love Michael Jackson, and it’s limited edition and probably very cool for a Michael Jackson fan such as yourself to have—y’know—”

“You’re rambling, cutie.” Haechan cuts you off gently, amusement bright in his eyes as he watches you, and he definitely solved the problem of you talking too much, but the casual pet name has now rendered you mute. “Thank you so much,” he says sincerely, looking you in the eyes.

You manage to find the words to express yourself once more. “You really like it?”

“I fucking love it. I’m gonna display it in my room and brag about it whenever people come over.” He is most definitely not lying, you realize by the puff in his chest, and you bite back a giggle, feeling like a weight is lifted off of your shoulders. 

“I’m glad you’re happy,” you sigh in relief.

“My turn.” Haechan announces, gently setting the vinyl down on an armchair nearby and bringing his other hand from behind his back to hand you a small rectangular box. “It’s wrapped, so you gotta unwrap it.”

“I do think I’m aware of how wrapped presents work, yeah.” You can’t help but tease him lightly, and he laughs, shaking his head.

“Be nice, I’m nervous,” he whines, and you coo sympathetically as you gingerly open the wrapping paper.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you nervous—” Your lightly teasing words stop short when you lift the lid of the small white box and see the contents. “Oh, my God.” 

“It’s, uh,” Haechan rushes to explain, gesturing at the box, “I got it custom made with these little, uh, mandarin charms,” he points at the small orange charms on the bracelet, “because we always eat mandarins together, y’know? Like, it’s kind of our thing.”

“Yeah,” you say softly. “Haechan, I love it.”

You can hear his exhale of relief and his body goes slack, finally relaxing in your side view. “I was hoping you would.”

“Can you put it on me?” You feel like you can’t raise your voice past this murmur for fear that it’ll shatter the delicate and intimate moment you two have built with each other.

“Yeah,” Haechan says immediately, a smile audible in his voice. You hand him the box and he lifts the bracelet out of its velvety encasing, the dim but warm lighting of the living room catching the bracelet and making it glint beautifully.

“This must have been expensive,” you worry, and he shakes his head.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” he assures you. “Now that vinyl must have been crazy pricey—”

“It wasn’t too bad with the employee discount,” you half-lie; if it wasn’t for your employee discount and some serious sweet-talking to your favorite manager, you probably would have been living off of leftovers for a week or two.

“Gimme your wrist,” he murmurs quietly, and you comply, offering him your arm and watching as his hands fasten the clasp around your wrist. It looks stunning on your skin and you honestly can’t imagine taking it off anytime soon. “It looks beautiful on you,” Haechan compliments, and you laugh softly, shyly. 

“Thanks,” you mumble, and you’re now very aware that Haechan’s gaze has shifted from your wrist to studying your face, his intent stare sending nervous jitters throughout your body even as you avoid it. Slowly, you drag your gaze up from your linked hands to meet his eyes, and you’re all but floored by the intensity in his stare, his gaze somehow both unreadable and perfectly easy to comprehend.

It’s a myriad of emotions—fondness, desire, determination, passion—all packed into one heavy-lidded stare as he wets his bottom lip. His fingers loop around your wrist, just below the bracelet, and he tugs you closer gently, coaxing you into his embrace as his free arm wraps around your waist. 

Gazing into your eyes, he smiles secretively before looking up at the ceiling pointedly. When you look up, you already have a feeling about what you’re going to find, letting out a small laugh of disbelief when you see yet another mistletoe dangling from the ceiling.

“Did you plan this?” When you look back at him, his eyes are trained on your mouth and he leans in closer to you, his nose nudging against yours as his smile softens.  

“Of course I did.” His words are a soft murmur against your lips before he’s kissing you, and the way he does makes your head spin.

His arm tightens around your waist and his other hand holds your chin, gently tilting your head towards him so he can kiss you better. His lips move slowly against yours, leisurely yet still intense as he hums contently.

You feel like you’re kissing him for the first time by your sink all over again, excitement trickling through you like the soapy water dripped down your arms that first time and the chatter in the background—even the faint whoops you hear that most likely mean you’ve been spotted—fading into nothingness.

There’s no one around that matters but you and Haechan, and you could probably live in this moment forever. 

He gently separates from the kiss, resting his forehead on yours as you both attempt to catch your breath.

“Haechan,” you murmur softly, “if you kiss me like that again, I’m gonna think you’re in love with me.” Your attempt to lighten the mood to steady your pounding heart goes unanswered, Haechan surprisingly silent. You look up at him curiously to see, with a jolt of surprise, that he’s already looking at you, his expression unreadable yet immediately comprehensible like earlier, but there’s a fire to it, a burning insistence that makes you swallow thickly. “Don’t joke like that.”

He regards you with a raised brow. “Who says I’m joking?” At your skeptical silence, he scoffs in amusement, squeezing your waist gently. “You have to know I’m, like, crazy about you by now.”

You gape at him. “Really?”

He gapes right back at you. “Yes!” he answers exasperatedly. “I went to Etsy for you,” Haechan sounds incredulous, continuing on even as you start to laugh, “I don’t think you know how confusing it was to order a charm bracelet with mandarin oranges on it? The shop people probably thought it was ridiculous.”

“No,” you console him immediately, draping your arms around his neck. “They probably thought it was very thoughtful, romantic, and sweet. Just like me.” 

He looks up at you, hope in his eyes. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you confirm. “Plus, it could be worse—you could have done all that just to get rejected or something.”

“So, I’m definitely not getting rejected right now, right?” He’s only half-joking, making you roll your eyes and shake your head.

“No, I’m definitely not rejecting you. Maybe I’m kinda crazy about you, too.” you admit with a small smile, and his face lights up, his smile one of the most radiant you’ve seen from him since meeting him. He studies your face, taking it in like it’s the last time he’ll ever see it, and you can practically feel the question on the tip of his tongue. “What is it?”

“Do you wanna get out of here?” he asks, smiling like he knows something you don’t.

You nod slowly, offering him a wry smile as you say, “I’m in; we can have a night out on the town or something.”

“Yeah?” He sounds slightly surprised but thrilled nonetheless, and you nod, your smile widening.

“Yeah. Renjun gave me a $50 gift card to Home Depot, so I’m thinking things might get a little crazy.” you deadpan, and Haechan snorts loudly in amusement, his eyes widening like he didn’t expect to do it.

“Home Depot?” Bless his heart, Haechan does make an attempt to hide his amusement, but he gives up and bursts out laughing. “Why would he—”

“I don’t know.” You hold your hands up in surrender. “I gave him art supplies, nice and thoughtful, and he gave me a gift card to a store I’ve never even set foot in.”

“Y’know, there’s actually something kind of sexy about Home Depot.” Haechan hums, swaying the two of you from side to side. “Maybe it’s the smell of brand new appliances and stuff.”

“I can’t say I know what appliances smell like off the top of my head.” you say thoughtfully, and Haechan nods.

“Yeah, neither can I; I just said that to make you feel better.”

“Aren’t you sweet?” you coo sarcastically, pinching his cheek.

He swats your hand away with a laugh before saying, “Speaking of sweet—I just remembered to tell you that Jaemin loves his present.”

“Really? I mean, I kinda figured, what with the way he fawned over it when I gave it to him, but I’m glad to know he really likes it.”

“Yeah, I saw him clutching it as he threw up in the toilet.” 

You wrinkle your nose. “What a lovely mental image.”

“Sorry,” he chuckles.

“Y’know, I really didn’t have much confidence in my gift-giving skills, but then I met Jaemin and Renjun. So, like, at least I know there’s worse out there.”

“What did Jaemin get you?” he laughs, his arms tightening around your waist.

You stare at him blankly. “A cookbook.”

Haechan’s confusion is palpable. “You don’t even cook like that—”

“I don’t even cook like that!” you agree emphatically, and he snickers.

“That’s awfully domestic of them, honestly.”

“Isn’t it? Are they hinting that I should start settling down or something?”

“Maybe they’re hinting that you’re wife material.”

“I’m pending “wife material” status; I need to learn to cook and navigate Home Depot, apparently.”

“Speaking of Home Depot,” Haechan pipes up, giving you a lingering kiss. “If we go to Home Depot, we can make out in the gardening aisle.”

You pull back just in time to snort in amusement. “How very romantic.”

“Listen, I’m trying to work with what we’ve got,” Haechan defends himself, and you roll your eyes, a fond smile tugging at your lips as you scratch gently at his scalp on the back of his neck.

“We could listen to your new vinyl in your room and make out in there,” you suggest, and he brightens up, nodding eagerly.

“What a good idea,” he agrees, tucking your head against him to hug you properly. 

After a moment, you shift uncomfortably. “Haechan, is that your phone in your pocket or did all that Home Depot talk get you worked up?”

“What are you talking about?” His voice is muffled against your neck as he speaks, but you can hear his confusion regardless. “My phone is in my back pocket.”

“Haechan, don’t tell me you’re seriously chubbed up right now in the middle of this Christmas party.”

“First of all: please never say ‘chubbed up’ again.”

“Agreed.”

“Thank you,” Haechan sighs in relief. “Second of all, that’s my remote.”

It’s your turn to be confused, apparently. “Remote to what?”

Releasing you from his embrace, he reaches into his pocket and retrieves a simple remote, pressing it, and you watch as his sweater starts to flash bright lights.

You’re silent for a moment. “I didn’t think it could get any worse.” 

“Aw, come on!”

“No, I’m serious—it looks like the festivities threw up on you and now, apparently, they had some string lights in there too.”

Haechan pouts deeply. “Ah, you are so mean, seriously.”

“If we’re making out at all tonight, that hideous sweater comes off.” You point accusingly at the offensive garment, glaring at the wonky-eyed reindeer.

“No way.” Haechan disagrees immediately. “The reindeer sweater stays on during sex.”

“I will never sleep with you again.”

“On second thought, we could burn it. Burning it sounds good.”

“Baby, show me that last dance again,” Haechan urges you, jerking his chin at the open space of the living room you’ve been using as a makeshift dance floor.

You spring up from the couch, using a hand on his leg to brace yourself, and make your way to the middle of the room, taking a moment to recall the dance steps.

“It’s like this.” You hum a tune to yourself as you mime holding someone’s hand and their shoulder, swinging your hips as you move sideways, lifting your knee at the end before repeating the actions in the other direction. You look up at Haechan as you dance, immediately averting your gaze when you meet his eyes and take in his intense stare.

“And that’s the bachata?” he asks, raising his eyebrows curiously when you two lock eyes. You nod, and so does he. “You look good doing it.” He smiles and pushes off of the couch, taking the place of your invisible dance partner. Placing your hand on his shoulder, he rests his on your waist, lacing your fingers with his own and tugging you closer. “Dance with me now.”

“You got it?” you ask in surprise, and he nods.

“Quick learner.” he explains, smiling. He’s not wrong, you realize as you hum your little song and lead him into the dance. He moves smoothly and attractively, his steps confident but not too serious.

“You’re good,” you murmur in surprise, and he chuckles.

“I have a good teacher.” When you’ve completed two sequences from one side to the other, he twirls you, laughing when you yelp in surprise and clutch onto him tightly. “You’re not gonna fall, baby.”

“I know,” you murmur, resting your chin on his shoulder. “I trust you.”

“You trust me?” Haechan’s voice is soft, his fingers just as gentle as his tone as they stroke at your back, and you nod, knowing he can feel it as opposed to see it. “Then close your eyes.” 

You move back so he can see when you comply, and he grips you a bit tighter, turning you to the side and dipping you, his laugh ringing out with yours as you burst into tickled giggles.

“See? I trust you.” You still don’t open your eyes as you speak, the inaction triggering a jolt of surprise when his nose brushes against yours.

His lips connect with yours soon after, nudging them apart to kiss you sweetly. He stands you both upright once more and wraps his arm around your waist, drawing you in closer with a hum and tugging gently on your bottom lip. 

He peppers kisses down to your neck where they slow down, growing languid and needy as he latches onto various spots of your neck and sucks gently. 

“That tickles,” you giggle, squirming away, but he just locks his arm around you, holding you firmly in place as he continues to attack your neck. “Haechan,” you whine pleadingly, and he groans against your skin.

“Mm, yeah, love when you say my name like that.” He nips at your flesh, lapping his tongue over the sore spot in a wordless apology. 

“Haechan!” You attempt to scold him, but the pleasure gets to you, his name coming out even needier than before.

“Just like that, baby.” he grunts, sucking harder at a spot near the base of your neck that, despite your conscious desires, has you tipping your head back to allow him better access. “See? You love it.” His free hand trails down your backside, hiking up your shirt to grab your ass, clad only in black lacy underwear.

You’ve essentially given up on getting him to stop, finally succumbing to your desires and pushing your hips into his. He chuckles, the sound low in his throat and undeniably smug, and backs towards the couch, releasing you and plopping down on the seat.

He pats his lap with an inviting wiggle of his brows, his grin widening when you take the invitation and sit sideways on his lap, leaning your side against his chest. 

“Where was I?” he murmurs, kissing up your shoulder and making a determined path to your neck. You wiggle away at the last minute and press your lips to his before he can inevitably protest. His complaining whine abruptly changes to a pleased humming sound as he kisses you over and over (and over) again, alternating between quick, soft kisses and lingering, needier ones. 

His hand slides up your thigh purposefully, moving between your legs and hiking up the hem of the shirt you’re wearing. He grins against your lips when you part your legs slightly, allowing him to stroke along your inner thighs.

“Your skin feels so soft,” he murmurs against your lips, “and your kisses taste so sweet—I’m in heaven.”

“You’re so dramatic.” you snicker, and he shakes his head, parting from the kiss to look at you with bright, earnest eyes.

“I’m serious,” he promises, his gaze dropping to where his hand disappears between your legs. “I could stay like this forever.”

“Well, unfortunately,” you murmur, tugging gently at the locks on the nape of his neck and smiling when he groans, “I can only keep Mijoo and Chuu away from the apartment for so long.”

“What are we gonna do when they come back?” He frowns up at you, resting his chin on your breast.

He really needs to stop being so damn cute, you think.

“Well, we can just go in my room.” you offer, and he nods, lost in thought.

“Are they coming back soon? Should you,” he sighs deeply as if he already regrets the next words out of his mouth, “put some pants on?”

You can’t help but laugh at how resistant he is to the thought of you wearing more clothes before you stand up, moving back to the center of the room and twirling once.

“Mijoo and Chuu have already seen me like this, anyway,” you inform him, gesturing at your attire, and he raises an eyebrow.

“Oh, yeah?” he asks, beckoning you closer. When you’re within reach, he laces his fingers with yours and pulls you towards him until you’re landing clumsily on his lap once more with a yelp. “Well, aren’t they lucky?” He adjusts you so your knees are on the couch on either side of him, your hips hovering above his lap ever so slightly.

“I wouldn’t say lucky,” you chuckle, and he shakes his head, scrutinizing your face.

“Do they get to see you reaching for stuff in the cabinets with this on?” Haechan asks, his hands running up the backs of your thighs. “Hm? Do they get to see your shirt ride up and show off your cute little ass?”

You hesitate, slightly uncomfortable with the thought of flashing your friends and roommates. “If they have, I’m pretty sure—and kinda hoping, at this point—they’re not actually looking.”

“Do they get to see you bend over as you look in the fridge for something to snack on?” he continues, and you grimace, shaking your head.

“I don’t even do that—oh—” Your vehement protesting ends abruptly when he grabs your ass with both hands, using his grip to pull you forward until your chest is clumsily landing against his. 

“No, they don’t get to see that, right?” he murmurs, looking up at you with desire pooled plainly in his eyes. “Only I get to see my girl like that.”

You could just about melt from the pet name. “Yeah,” you agree breathlessly. 

“Yeah?”

“Mhm,” you hum in a daze.

“Only me?” he presses, hands pushing your shirt up past your stomach and over your breasts, now exposing your matching lacy black lingerie.

“Only you,” you confirm, the needy whine creeping back into your voice. “Haechan, touch me.”

“My baby wants me to touch her?” he asks softly, teasing you with the promise of a kiss but not delivering. His breath is warm on your lips as he taunts you and he’s all but inhaling your plaintive cries for attention, his eyes growing more wild and intense the more you quietly plead for him. 

“Please, Haechan?” To your embarrassment, your voice cracks slightly towards the end of the word, but it seems to trigger something in Haechan, who lets out a groan from deep in his chest before cupping the back of your neck and pulling you in for a heated kiss.

“Could never say no to my girl,” he coos against your lips, punctuating each word with a kiss deeper than the one preceding it. “Let’s take this off, baby.” His hand hurriedly yanks at the material of your shirt that’s bunched up above your breasts, and you break from the kiss to pull it off, barely having time to drop it on the couch before he’s hungrily kissing all over the exposed skin of your chest. 

You already know what he’s going after next, so you beat him to the punch, unclipping your bra and letting the straps fall off your shoulders. Haechan lets out a loud groan of approval, his kisses barely hesitating before dipping lower until his tongue is rolling over and swirling around your nipple. His hands fly to cup both of your breasts as he alternates between sucking at both of your nipples, and you suck in a sharp breath when his fingers pinch at the hardened bud, tweaking it teasingly.

As he loses himself in your breasts, you can’t help but rock your hips down onto his lap, the thin fabric covering your clit doing virtually nothing to conceal the sensation of his cock pressing against your core through his sweats. You stutter out a gasp, and he chuckles mockingly, releasing your nipple with a wet pop and regarding you carefully.

“That feel good?” he asks, mimicking you when you nod. “Yeah? Feels good to fuck yourself against my cock?” 

Your only response is a whimper and a rasp of his name that has his eyes blazing with lust.

“You wanna cum so bad, don’t you?” he taunts, and you cry out weakly, your head dropping down to rest your forehead against his. “Can you cum like this? Just like this?” His mocking tone softens slightly, and when you nod, he hisses, bucking his hips up to collide with your body, groaning, “I love seeing you like this—so fucking gorgeous like this—no one gets to see this but me—”

“Only you,” you moan desperately, willing to say just about anything if it means you get to cum. 

“All mine,” he growls under his breath, tilting his head up to kiss you fiercely. “I’m all yours, and you’re all fucking mine, yeah?”

“Yes, baby—Haechan, I wanna cum so bad,” you gasp, and he nods, releasing your breasts and grabbing your hips, guiding your rocking motions until that delightfully familiar tightening feeling starts building in your abdomen. “Fuck, just like that,” you cry out, nails digging into his shoulders, his only protection the thin shirt he’s wearing.

“Kiss me when you cum,” he pants, and you oblige, leaning forward and connecting your lips in a sloppy, heated kiss. He’s positively frenzied, biting roughly at your bottom lip until you wince and sucking on your tongue, not relenting even when you attempt to retract it to moan his name. 

Your poor tongue is trapped between his greedy lips as he sucks hard on it, only giving you a slight break when he swirls his tongue around yours with a lewd moan escaping him as saliva—you can’t really tell whose it is—drips down from your bottom lip onto your chest. 

He’s all over you, dominating your mouth with his, your breasts with his hands, your core with his length, and your mind is so blank that you don’t even notice when one of his hands travels south to slip into your underwear, only catching on when his fingers press against your clit roughly.

“Oh, sh—” you gasp as he rubs the sensitive bud vigorously, heavy-handed touches sending you toppling over the edge. To your surprise, tears well up in your eyes, the pleasure almost too much to bear, and Haechan coos sweetly when they start to spill, pulling back from the intense lip lock to kiss up your tear tracks, capturing your lips with his own tear-smeared mouth, lips wet and salty as he moves them against yours.

“Up,” he croaks, tugging you up off of his lap slightly, and you oblige, lifting up off of him enough for him to shove his pants down to his knees and pull himself out of his boxers, rapidly fucking his fist as he stares at your underwear, the very last article of clothing covering your body. “Sit, baby.” he urges, guiding you down. 

He gropes freely at your asscheeks with one hand as his other, wrapped around the base of his length, brings the thick head of his shaft to your entrance. You pull your underwear to the side to allow him entry, and he pushes up into you as you sit down onto him, both of you letting out groans of pleasure. 

“That’s it, baby,” he moans, “sit on my fucking cock just like that.”

“So full,” you babble, gasping as he bottoms out, “so fucking full.”

“I know, baby, I know,” he coos comfortingly, “you can take it all, yeah?”

You don’t think you have much of a choice, but it’s not like you were planning on backing out, anyway.

In lieu of a response, you lift your hips and bring them back down onto him, Haechan winding his fingers in the locks at the nape of your neck and yanking so your head is forced back. You whimper loudly at the tug and moan louder when his tongue drags up from the top of your cleavage to your chin, leaving a trail of saliva in its wake. 

“Obsessed with how you taste,” he grunts, barely parting from your neck as he sucks and nibbles at your skin and making loud and wet noises every time his lips release a patch of flesh. “Gonna eat your pretty pussy later, too—”

“Fuck,” you hiss, his words affecting you more than you expected. You position yourself slightly so you can bounce up and down on his length, your mind all but falling apart at the feeling of his thick shaft stretching you open.

He trails wet kisses back down to your chest, cupping your breasts and sucking on your nipples greedily, switching between the two like he can barely get enough. When he nips one of them a bit sharper than you’re prepared for, you cry out weakly, pushing at his head as a warning.

“I’m the only one who gets to touch you like this—” he grunts, thrusting upwards to meet your movements so you’re simultaneously fucking onto and into each other. “No one else gets to hear the pretty fuckin’ noises you make when I fuck you—no one gets to make you feel this good but me—”

“Just you, babe—” Your words are undoubtedly slurred from pleasure, but by the way Haechan’s thrusts speed up, you’re willing to bet he heard you. “Feels so good—wanna cum so bad—”

“Feels good?” Haechan echoes mindlessly, biting down on the flesh of your breast. “You love this, don’t you? Love me fucking you with my thick cock?”

“Love your cock so much—fuck, Haechan—I’m gonna—” You can barely get the words out before Haechan’s kissing you deeply, a filthy mess of teeth and tongue as his hips fuck up into yours.

“Cum all over me, baby, want you to make a mess all over me,” Haechan grunts, and you do. You climax loudly and powerfully, and Haechan’s thrusts continue the whole time, prolonging and heightening your pleasure until you’re shaking your head and squirming away from the hypersensitivity.

“Haechan, cum inside me,” you moan plaintively, still in a daze, and he nods distractedly, sloppily kissing every inch of your skin he can reach as he speeds up his thrusts and curses under his breath. 

“Cumming—” He’s barely able to choke out the last syllable before he’s burying himself in you to the hilt, his breathing ragged as he finishes inside of you. You affectionately rake your fingers through his hair as he recovers, his forehead resting against your chest. When he’s collected himself, he catches your wrist and presses a kiss to your palm, looking up at you with a lazy smile.

“You’ve got a mouth on you, y’know that?” you mumble in amusement, and he grins mischievously, wiggling his eyebrows. 

“Of course I do—and you love it,” he chuckles, and you roll your eyes slightly, shifting in his lap and cringing at how cool your chest feels. You look down and can’t help but widen your eyes at the state of your chest.

It’s, to put it lightly, covered in saliva, and you’re almost positive it’s entirely Haechan’s doing. When you look back up at him, you see him looking right where you just were, his lips parted slightly in what you assume is awe.

“You really do have quite a mouth,” you snort, pushing his jaw up so said mouth closes. “A messy, sloppy, dirty one.”

He looks up at you finally and you’re surprised to see that the look on his face wasn’t awe at his messiness but unbridled desire. He grins up at you smugly, making loud kissing noises.

“If I recall correctly, you weren’t complaining when my messy, sloppy, dirty mouth was all over you earlier,” he points out as he squishes you to his body, your breasts pressing against his face. He nuzzles into your cleavage, pressing a wet kiss to the skin, and you groan and push his head away with a laugh.

“Whatever,” you say, attempting to sound grouchy but ultimately failing as the smile on your face is too wide. “I need to shower.”

“Fine,” he sighs loudly, releasing you, and you stand up, making a face as his mostly softened length slips out of you. “On one condition.”

“It’s my shower, Haechan,” you point out. “What condition could you possibly have?”

“I get to join you.” He beams at you hopefully, nodding encouragingly in an attempt to convince you.

“I was already gonna say you’re coming with me,” you say, stooping to pick up your discarded clothing. “That way we’ll both be all cleaned up by the time Mijoo and Chuu come back.”

“Sounds good to me,” Haechan agrees, standing up and tucking himself back into his clothing. “Lead the way, baby.” 

When you turn and head towards the bathroom, a quick smack to your ass makes you yelp before turning to glare at your cheekily grinning boyfriend. 

“Haechan!”

“If I apologized, I’d be lying.” He shrugs nonchalantly, and you narrow your eyes at him before turning back around.

“You’re a menace.”

“You’re stuck with me,” he sing-songs, blowing you a loud kiss from behind. Thankfully, he can’t see the giddy smile on your face or feel the heat rising to your cheeks, so you just remain silent and think about how nice it is to be “stuck” with someone like Haechan.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” you tease, turning to face him as you step into the bathroom and shut the door in his face.

“Hey!” Haechan exclaims, indignant as he jiggles the doorknob. “You’re in for it now, you know that, right? You can’t get rid of me that easily!”

“I know!” you call back, covering your mouth to stifle your laughter.

Frankly, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

ta da !!! i hope you enjoyed :) happy new year!

[twst-drabbles]

Malleus 17

Summary: Most of Malleus’s day is spent zoning out while bathing in sunlight. It’s always fun to see his little lizard brain occasionally spark up an idea.

(I used to have pet lizards. Loved the way their eyes convey the absolute emptiness going on in their brain.)

Malleus hasn’t blinked for the past hour. He just sits there, on the window sill, face turned towards the sunlight as he stared into the lush yard outside. From a certain angle, he almost looks forlorn, like a doll abandoned by the side of the road.

If Sebek was here, he’d certainly be fretting around Malleus, trying to snap him out whatever trance he was caught up in. And Silver would whisper his concerns into your ear, hoping you’d give him ideas as to what’s wrong with Malleus despite being his owner for longer. And Lilia, cute bat Lilia, he’d be trying to goad Malleus into playing a flying game with him just to get him moving.

You walked over, leaned against the window sill, and poked Malleus on the forehead. He didn’t so much as twitch, his eyes remain unblinking. You pushed your finger against his head and watched as he practically became a wobble doll. You let go and Malleus still body rocked back and forth until he was stable again.

Malleus was still staring off into the distance.

You snorted. “Not a thought behind those eyes, huh? Empty-headed little critter.”

Bathing in sunlight always does this to him, like the warmth of sun soothed all the chaos in his head into nothingness.

There’s nothing wrong with him, Malleus was just zoning out for the moment. He’ll be back online in a moment. It’s always entertaining to hear the way Silver describes him, like this little pet was some always caught up in some grand and mysterious scheme. A magical genius so smart that his thoughts escape everyone’s comprehension.

That’s not quite it thought. Malleus is Malleus, and he’s more the kind of pet to get stuck on one particular thought or subject for weeks on end. All pets have different phases and routines, and long-living fae pets such as Malleus were no exception. He’s just slower to get to the next phase.

You opened the window. The wind gently blew right past the both of you, guiding the falling leaves and gently caressing your curtains. You took a deep breath in, and sighed it out.

Suddenly, Malleus’s eyes snapped wide open, back stiff and wings jittery. Energetic, excited about something.

“Oh?” You lowered your head. “Did you get an idea?” Are the gears finally turning again in his brain.

You scratched at his soft belly scales and laughed when he practically launched himself out of your hand. He was practically a rocket as he shot out the window, barely more than a blur as he flew in a pattern only he knew.

This month’s obsession seems to be dizzying flight patterns. All because Malleus witnessed Lilia’s flying right after he finished eating some of Crowley’s fermented peaches.

After a round of unsteady figure eights, Malleus finished with a belly flop on the grass, as Lilia did before. He got up, cleaned himself off, and fly once more. He’s nothing if not determined, that’s for sure. Still, it’s hilarious that he spent the entire day zoning out at your house.

Sure, you were a little concerned when he first did it, but you figured it out soon enough. You did as you usually do and let the pets do their own thing.

Maybe that’s why Malleus likes to come over here often. You’ve never been much of a person that fusses. Unless they’re putting themselves in active danger, you’re not going to bother them every single second of their life.

Well, whatever the reason may be, it’s still made clear that your house is a place to zone out in. You know you do that often. And, you will admit, you love the way Malleus's eyes go all empty like that.

[tenshi-agerasia]

in-universe alien stage mechanisms and the use of colors in round 7 (a luka & till rant ft. mizi & hyuna)

it's generally agreed that alien stage can be interpreted as a metaphor for the kpop industry, and as someone who did tons of studying (because of my 3d fav) on how performances work in c-ent, i noticed some things on my nth rewatch of blink gone

meta-wise, the colors in the mv are green (to represent till) and purple (to represent luka). this combo works really well for the song, but is there an in-universe explanation to the lighting? yep:

take a look at the scoreboard. even in-universe, green represents till and purple represents luka. taking the idol theme more literally, we can also assume that these are their official colors. i went back to the TOP 3 video and well well well guess what appears during luka's part

the lightsticks, the projected neon signs, the same kind of mask (?), the stadium lights. we can reasonably assume that this purple is luka's official fan color and represents support for him.

and guess what color almost all of the crowd is repping during round 7 through lightsticks and masks?

that's right, overwhelmingly purple. don't forget that the winners of each round of alien stage are decided by live in-house voting, and audience members will always be biased towards who they're a fan of. remember that luka is insanely popular and already won a season, so his fanbase would be larger, more developed, and more devoted.

till was, for a lack of better words, cooked. he was doomed to lose from the start, because how can a few of his fans outvote the majority?

i've seen some people theorize that the result was rigged, and i completely disagree: you cannot fake support on this large of a scale. "oh, but the color of the lightsticks are controlled by the organizers" then explain the masks, a clear fandom symbol

also, from my experience in survival shows, vote counts in the final round are usually hidden until the results are announced, which explains the wobbliness of the scoreboard bars like they're inflatable tube men in front of a car or mattress dealership.

an alternative explanation to the lightsticks is that it represents the current vote, but i'm not inclined to believe this theory because, again, the masks. like real-life idol performances, i think that this is just a show of support from the audience.

back to the meta: mizi's appearance in the crowd is a reinvigoration of determination in till, and in terms of color, she is a break of bright green among the sea of purple. she not only stands out because she's someone he loves, she is visually a breath of fresh air for him.

do you think, in those last moments, he was not only happy to see her alive in front of him but to also see her wearing his color?

in this part where they're reaching out to each other, the pink-purple light that seems to be shining from mizi is representative of how she's a beacon of hope for till. in-universe, however, till is just moving towards the audience, the close proximity of the lightsticks illuminating his face with color.

mizi and till are surrounded by this vibrant purple, a symbol for luka. even with mizi's more pink-ish radiance, they are literally in his territory, at the mercy of the system that he has been through and learned to play along with.

the same can't be said about luka when he sees hyuna again:

the warmth of his fan color disappears, replaced by a colder indigo. the audience, his fans, the aliens that he knows how to use to keep himself alive mean nothing to him right now. it's this cold feeling of shock that makes him so unsure of how to react.

in this moment, he is no longer luka the performer, luka the idol, luka the twice winner of alien stage—he's just luka. he's vulnerable to emotion, an unfamiliar thing, and he's so painfully human.

luka: (sees hyuna) holy shit it's you... mizi: till is literally dying behind you luka: this ain't about him

another detail: these shots were never shown in the mv so i'm assuming they're taken by in-universe cameras (see the red flashes in the audience), especially because of the angle (downwards pointing perspective)

[silkval]

♞】 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘺𝘤𝘢𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴- 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 Ⅱ

how much do the genshin boys crave your attention, and whats their style?

★fujoshis, wlm and minors please fuck off- you will be blocked★

♢】 scale of neediness

》 patience ★★★☆☆

》 intensity ★★★★☆

》 frequency ★★☆☆☆

》 touchiness ★★★★☆

》 publicity ★☆☆☆☆

oh, xiao, what a gorgeous little pet he is. quiet, obedient, loyal as a dog- and as protective as one, too. just the perfect darling who was at your beck and call at every moment, quite literally- need some company? a pretty face to look at? a sopping hole to fuck? He would be at your feet instantly, albeit a little red-faced and stuttery, despite how many times this very scenario had previously occurred. It was clear that he was absolutely smitten with you, always ready to fulfil your every desire and be by your side.

the poor boy couldn't even spend more than a week without your presence, constantly seeking reassurance and attention. It was both endearing and slightly suffocating- not that you minded, though. it was certainly quite the sight to see when your darling xiao would appear before you could even finish calling his name, already staring up at you with those gorgeous, gilded eyes- pupils wide as he’d cock his head, staring at you expectantly as his hands went to find purchase in yours- waiting to be order on his knees or to bend over a table- anything, for you.

…but oh, when you nonchalantly mentioned that you'd be away on a business trip for a few days in inazuma? oh. oh… he could handle that, couldn't he? he’d be a good boy, he promised- so with that, the conversation was over and done with, whisked away by the night of pleasure that followed suit.

until it had been a few days since your departure- and xiao was losing it.

As the days passed, Xiao's longing for your return grew more intense. Every moment without you felt like an eternity, and his touchiness increased as he yearned for your presence. His patience, once a strong suit, was tested as he anxiously awaited your arrival. The publicity of his desires once kept between the two of you, began to wane and seep into his every move as his desperation for your attention grew.

tsk, the poor thing- it only took three days for xiao's stoic facade to crumble. He was aching for your touch, your voice, your very presence. he thought he'd be able to bare it; hell, he had spent centuries with no company but the depths of his thoughts before. but now that he had you? it had barely been the first day since you had left and he had already started counting down the hours.

…but that didn't last long.

day 4. and the poor thing just couldn't handle it. he had been desperately grasping onto one of your favourite scarves that you had left behind for him, the soft fabric pressed flush against the pinked tip of his nose as a restless pout graced his lithe features- where he had been positioned for the last… 10 hours. trying to get some damn sleep. but how could he, without your presence? it was too, too much. within the blink of an eye, xiao appeared in front of you- unprompted. right in the middle of your bed with the mere whisp of smoke, resulting in a very… confused reaction on your behalf.

but of course, that didn't last long- you could barely let out a questioning hum before your darlings hands had already found their way against your skin, the smaller male gasping at the mere contact, yet not wasting a second before pulling his frame directly to yours as if you were a magnet- before whisking you both away, leaving only a swirl of smoke in your path as you now reappeared in your shared bedroom- that was… quite the mess.

from the nest-like flurry of blankets and your clothes strewn in some strange order on your bed to the box of tissues half used and scattered around- some dampened with tears, others dripping with slick- it was clear xiao had certainly got a little desperate.

…even more so, when you were interrupted by xiao swiftly tugging your body against his, both of you tumbling down against the plush of your bed- but before you could react, the needy little thing was already writing beneath you, soft pants and strained whines a dangerous combination with that look of his… oh, just how could you deny him?

“aww, looks like someone missed me quite a bit, hm, princess? go on, then- be a darling and spread your legs for me, yeah?”

[writingforstraykids]

Stargazing

Pairing: Chanlix

Word Count: 809

Summary: Chan has an idea to help Felix get sleepy. Their shared comfort leads to unexpected confessions.

Warnings/Tags: fluff, angst, cuddles, soft!chan, soft!felix, confessions, first kiss, teasing

A/N: A little bit of Chanlix fluff for you love🤭@miuracha

do not repost, translate, or plagiarize my works in any way here or on other platforms. ©️writingforstraykids 2024 -

Chan watches Felix shift for the tenth time and sighs softly. "Come on," he says, dropping his arm and inviting him in. 

"I'll get too heavy," he shakes his head. 

"None of that, come on," he snorts, and Felix gives in, lying down beside him and resting his head on his chest. Chan's arm wraps around him, the weight comforting him. 

Felix gulps softly as Chan's fingertips brush his skin before sinking into his hair. His eyes flutter close as Chan soothingly massages his scalp, so naturally, as if it was nothing new. He relaxes into the feeling for a moment and completely forgets about the main purpose of coming here so late at night. He hadn't been able to sleep, and Chan had been up anyway, suggesting they'd go stargazing to calm Felix's mind. When truly, all he needs for that to happen is Chan. "Can I get cuddles?" he dares to speak up, desperate to feel surrounded by him. 

"But you won't see the sky like that," Chan frowns and Felix subconsciously scoots closer. 

"Doesn't matter," he says quietly, and Chan gets the message. 

"How cuddly are you tonight?" he asks, soothingly brushing his hand over the back of his neck. 

"On a scale from one to ten? A solid 100," he says, and Chan can't hold back the laugh bubbling from his chest. "Fucking cunt," Felix curses at him, playfully upset, which only makes Chan laugh more. Felix pushes himself up and yelps in surprise when Chan pulls him back against his chest, flipping them over. He swallows as he's suddenly on his back with Chan on top of him and blinks up at him nervously, eyes widening. Chan's curls fall into his face, eyes sparkling with joy as he grins at him. 

"That's not very nice, is it?" he snorts, and Felix hums, trying not to think too much of this. "A solid hundred deserves to be suffocated by love," he explains before cuddling into him and teasingly tickling his sides. 

"No, Chan," Felix whines, shoving him off as he doesn't stop. 

Chan sits down laughing, bracing himself on his hands behind himself and spreading his legs as he throws his head back, staring at the sky. "It's beautiful, isn't it?" 

"You're beautiful," Felix says before he can fully process the thought. He blushes heavily, eyes widening in shock, and stares at him nervously. 

Chan turns to him, mirroring his expression of shock before clearing his throat. "Uh…thanks?" 

Felix swallows hard and shakes his head to himself. "This was a shit idea, can we go back?" 

Chan squints at him but nods gently. "Sure, alright." He pushes himself up and grabs his phone before folding the blanket. "Sorry for the shit idea, thought it might help," he shrugs, and Felix's blush deepens. 

"I know you meant well," he mutters and awkwardly rubs his neck. "I'm just really tired." 

"So it helped," Chan hums, walking back to his car. He opens the door and throws the blanket on the backseat, wondering why the mood suddenly shifted like that. 

"You always do," Felix answers quietly, and Chan freezes in his movement. Their eyes meet, and Felix subconsciously bites his lower lip, growing nervous. 

Chan gently closes the door and strolls over, stopping right in front of him. "Lix." 

"Yeah?" he asks softly. 

"I need to tell you something," he says, deciding right then to take this step that has been playing in his head for months now. 

"Okay?" he whispers, frowning when Chan's face suddenly softens immensely. 

"I love you, Lixie," he says softly, and for a moment, those four little words linger between them. "You don't have to say it back, just wanted you to know." 

Felix's heart picks up pace, and his chest warms at the mere thought of Chan actually meaning this. "You…you're serious?" he asks timidly, and Chan nods. "I uhm…I love you too." 

A beautiful smile covers Chan's face, lightening up his eyes and reminding Felix why he fell for him so easily. "Yeah?" he asks softly, and Felix nods firmly. "Can I kiss you then?" 

"Please," he breathes out, a soft sound escaping him as Chan doesn't waste another second and crashes his lips against his. Felix timidly holds onto his shirt, too scared to wake up from a beautiful dream and find out it's all been a lie. Chan's hands cup his face and grab the back of his neck, fingertips sinking into his hair. 

Chan pulls back after a moment, smiling at him fondly. "That eases your mind?" 

"Now I really can't sleep," he laughs, pulling him into another desperate kiss. "Can we stay for another bit?" 

MASTERLISTS | PROMPT LIST | GUIDELINES

"As long as you want, baby," Chan smiles, dimples accentuating his handsome face. Felix swoons at the term of endearment and giggles to himself. He didn't quite expect that coming here tonight.

Taglist: (Please let me know if you want to be added to/removed from the taglist!)

@kai-lee08 @mal-lunar-28 @aaasia111 @galaxycatdrawz @kthstrawberryshortcake @channieaddict @soullostinspaceandtime @malfoygalaxies @rebecca-johnson-28

[astr0disiac]

ᴛɪɢʜᴛᴇʀ

☆ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ:

Tiana asks for help adjusting her dress straps.

☆ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 1,108

☆ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: fluff, implied sexual tension (mdni)

☆ᴍʏ ꜱɪɴᴄᴇʀᴇꜱᴛ ᴀᴘᴏʟᴏɢɪᴇꜱ ꜰᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴍɪꜱꜱᴘᴇʟʟɪɴɢꜱ ᴏʀ ɢʀᴀᴍᴍᴀᴛɪᴄᴀʟ ᴇʀʀᴏʀꜱ☆

“Nanami!”

He perked up at the sound of his name, sitting up more as he heard Tiana call him from her bedroom.

“Can you come here for a second?”

Nanami stood quickly, his dress shoes thudding on her glossy wooden floors as he adjusted the collar on his shirt. He pushed Tiana’s door open with his hip, the only visible light streaming from the bathroom, the setting in the room sentimental and warm. The scent of Tiana’s vanilla body wash still wafted through the room, and the bathroom mirrors seemed to have a light layer of fog covering them, Tiana’s image blurred as she struggled to adjust something around her neck. He strides to the bathroom, leaning onto the door frame of the humid room, taking in the beauty that stood before him.

“Oh, good!” Tiana’s voice is chipper, the prospect of date night at hand. “Can you tighten and tie the straps for me? I can’t seem to get it right…”

Nanami wasn’t listening at all. 

His eyes started at the neutral color of Tiana’s freshly painted toes in clear heels, scaling up to her sharp calves and thick thighs that were covered by a shimmering, silver dress that was right above the knee. The width of her hips, the curve of her waist with a slight pudge in her lower abdomen. The glow of her back and shoulder blades, and the way her cowl dress draped over her chest like ripples of water. Her chandelier-like earrings, the gloss of her lips, to the light blush dusting her cheeks. The shimmer on the tip of her fleshy nose. Her dark lashes that curled to her thick brows, to the crown of her head where her hair fell into tight springs and ringlets to her shoulders like a dark divider. She looked like she had been sculpted in bronze, trimmed in silver, and intricately polished and shined to catch the light of even the dimmest of stars.

“Earth to Nanami?” Tiana says, holding her straps in one hand and using her forearm to hold the neckline in place so the fabric didn’t expose her top half. “Are you even listening?”

“I’m just…” Nanami inhales sharply and pushes the air past his lips just as quickly. “Speechless. You are absolutely stunning.”

Tiana blinks owlishly, biting the inside of her cheek as she grows a bit bashful. Sometimes it was still hard to just receive his compliments and bask in them.

“Thank you.” She says quietly, biding her smile. “You look quite handsome yourself.” She turns to look up at him, but it only lasts a moment before her eyes flit away. She was unable to endure his intense stare, one filled with awe and amazement. It made her feel soft, as if she would melt away like butter left out on the counter.

“Come on, let’s look in the full mirror.” Tiana ducked her head, walking to her full length body mirror in a bit of a tizzy. They always stood in the mirror to see how their outfits complimented each other, and if the outfit deemed worthy enough, Tiana would allow Nanami to take a picture. Though, he has quite a few candid photos of Tiana in her pajamas, bonnet, or just out and about with the goofiest smile on her face. Those were his favorite.

Nanami followed, positioned behind her. He gently grasps the strings from her fingers, her hands smoothing her dress a bit as she looks into the mirror with a satisfied smile.

“How tight do you want it?” Nanami asks Tiana’s reflection.

“I’ll tell you when.” She responds, trying not to break eye contact.

Nanami seemed to take his time, his fingertips trailing her upper back as he crossed the strings, looping them once, slowly pulling them as the fabric drags across Tiana’s bareback.

“More?” Nanami asks, looking up momentarily, and Tiana nods.

“Tighter.”

He wraps the excess string into his fists and pulls some more, Tiana tugging at the loose neck of her dress to see if it’ll slip off her body. Nanami looks back to her reflection, and Tiana nods again.

“Just a bit tighter…” 

Nanami tugs a bit harder, the fabric accidently pinching the nape of Tiana’s neck, and she yelps, her fists clenching as she winces into the mirror.

“Sorry...” Nanami loosens his hold, and Tiana chuckles.

“A bit too tight.” She says, Nanami still fiddling with the dress until-

“Right there!” She calls out, flattening her hands in a stopping motion. “That’s perfect.”

Nanami nods, quickly tying the flimsy strings into a bow, orchestrating how they dangled down Tiana’s back so that it would still compliment her perfectly from behind. Tiana does a once-over of herself in the mirror, happy with the current results.

“Thank you, Ken-oh!”

Nanami leans down to place his chin on Tiana’s shoulders, sliding his arms around her waist. He gazes up at their reflections, but mainly Tiana’s because of how bewitching she looked. She was just-

“Gorgeous.” Nanami breathlessly spoke in the dark, like a warm wind wrapping across Tiana’s heart. “Absolutely gorgeous.”

Tiana tries to subdue her wild grin, but fails miserably as she catches the bashful look in her eyes.

“Almost as beautiful as you.” Tiana remarks sarcastically, but her voice rides on a soft laugh, her hand raising to hold the side of Nanami’s face. 

“Much more.” He says.

Tiana almost squeals when Nanami places a gentle kiss on the shell of her ear, then the back of her neck, then her nape where he had accidentally nipped her skin. Not once did he let her go, never daring to release his grip.

“You know you’re precious to me, right?” Nanami mumbles against her soft skin, Tiana smiling so hard that her cheeks begin to sting. She allows her hands to fall over Nanami’s, bending at the knees with a soft sway.

“As you are to me.”

Nanami plants one more quick peck on Tiana’s temple, moving to stand next to Tiana. He lets one arm stay around her waist, opening his hand so that his palm would rest on top of her stomach and a bit of her hip.

He looked at their conjoined reflections, Tiana leaning into him carefully so as not to disrupt her hair or get her makeup on him. Nanami felt so giddy standing next to such a vision, that it radiated off of him, his sharp features dulled due to his soft smile. He looked so content standing next to her, as if he had somehow been blessed by the rarest treasure in the world.

Damn, Nanami thought. I’m a lucky man.

ᴛɪᴀɴᴀ ᴛᴜᴇꜱᴅᴀʏ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

[keicordelle]

The Adventures of an Inconvenient Au Ra: Fall Guys

It looked like a kid's candy-coated dream had vomited in here. Bright pinks and blinding greens assaulted Keshet's senses. Colors from every part of the spectrum were splashed about in what appeared to be some semblance of order, if your standards for "order" aligned more or less with those of a pixie from the First. Where in Nhaama's name Godbert had found those round-bodied monstrosities, Keshet could not even begin to fathom, but judging by the number of people currently gathered in the color-vomit room, he had to assume they were a hit.

It was all a little bit too bizarre for his tastes. The Gold Saucer was always loud and obnoxious, but this really reached a whole new level. But he was here, and much as his scales crawled to so much as look at the weird pink nuggets scattered around the room, he might as well give the game a shot.

And so he found himself waiting patiently - or as patiently as he was ever capable of - behind the starting line with twenty-three other people, all of whom were far too focused on the imminent death match- er, obstacle course, to even realize who he was. (And thank Nhaama for that. The bright pink sweater they'd forced him into made him feel rather like he wore someone else's skin, all awkward and ungainly. He felt weird with his skin all covered up, and even if he had ever felt compelled to don something other than his tribal garb, which he most certainly had not, this would not have been his choice. So much the better if no one saw and recognized him in it.)

"START!"

Keshet took off along with everyone else at his sides, careful not to trip over the diminutive Lalafell to his left. He took advantage of his longer strides, pulling ahead early. First jump, easily cleared. This wasn't so hard after all, what had everyone even been complaining abou-

There was no ground beneath his feet. Keshet didn't even have the breath to scream as he free-fell, wind whistling in his ears. Then, just when he was very certain this was it for one unfortunate lizard, he found himself back at the starting line, so suddenly he nearly tripped over his own feet and fell on his ass. He blinked, his brain swimming to try to compute the sudden change.

Okay. That was... Unexpected. He had no idea how that worked or why, but what he did know was that the rest of the racers were now a fairly significant leg ahead of him, and if he didn't want to get left in their dust, he was going to have to get his tail moving. He gritted his teeth, charging down the path once more. I will not lose!

It was just a silly game. Not something to get so worked up over. No one's life relied on this battle - at least, not now that he knew falling to his death was not in the question. And yet that same fire that raged through him when he faced off against an insurmountable foe burned though his chest, backed by grim determination.

The exultation that he felt when he caught up and then pulled ahead was as fierce as any combat victory, searing through him like the adrenaline that surged through his veins. Yeaahhh!! Let's goooo!! Each setback was met with a lashing tail and virulent hatred, grumbled curses muttered under his breath (when he could find the breath to spare). It was not as easy as he'd expected, to pull ahead and take the lead. Those stupid soft hammers kept bashing him upside the head, and he was so dizzy from spinning that it was a wonder he didn't fall straight of the edge. But he was doing it, he could make it, he could win!

Until a voice sounded through the space, feminine and excited: "And the winner is Leodaire Ferdillaix! Congratulations, and best of luck next time to the rest of our contestants!"

What?

He- He lost. How had that happened? When had that stupid elezen made it around him? He hadn't even seen him! Damn it! If only he'd pushed himself harder, if only he hadn't fallen!

Next time, he promised himself, teeth gritted and tail lashing. Next time, he'd win. No one would beat Keshet of the Dotharl and get away with it! 

-

Read the rest of the series on Ao3!

Masterlist | Prev | Next

[camilbarnessss]

¤ The Invitation ¤

{ Aemond Targaryen }

《 Part 11 》

When Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen's big family arrive at King's Landing for princess Helaena and prince Aegon Targaryen's wedding, things go as they always do. Dragons, uncles, nephews and cousins discussing and fighting, tension on every look, and disconfort when being with each other. Just the usual stuff...until the princess Daera Targaryen got drunk at a ball where The One-Eyed Prince happened to sneaked in

Masterlist

Warnings: swearing, family toxicity/drama, eroticism, male masturbation, TARGARYEN INCEST [cousinXcousin]

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Enjoy your reading!!! Likes, comments and reblogs will be highly appreciated♡♡♡

■ ■ ■

Rhaena blinked with softness, having a little smile in her lips. She sighs, raising her head, and looking at the big blue sky.

She sees how the skies were being ruled by tons of dragon, each of them colorful, fast, excited, and full of life. Syrax, Arrax, Vermax, Tyraxes, Caraxes, Kalistrox and Moondancer flapped stoppless while roaring and kicking the air with their paws.

Daera laughed vividly, tightly grabbed to her saddle while her dragon was flying fastly, at the same pace of the other ridden dragons. Excited, she looks at her right.

-Can you hear me?!-, she shouted as loud as she could, smiling. Kalistrox growled louder than her, shaking his neck, jubilant.

-NO!-, Lucerys shouted too from Arrax's back. His dragon, as the same age as him, roared, flapping his silver pale wings.

-WHAT?!-, Baela screamed, confused, from further, riding the beautiful Moondancer, whose scales were of a clear and light green.

-What are you talking about?!-. Jacaerys shouted from even farther, looking at his siblings with his nose and eyes scrunched. Vermax, greener and darker than Baela's dragon, roared towards the clouds.

-I can't hear you either!-, Baela said confused, looking at Luke and Daera, who were flying close to each other.

And they both instantly bursted out laughing amusedly, being under the annoyed gazes of Baela and Jace, who glanced at each other with boreness.

Kalistrox, being the older and bigger dragon out of them four, roared joyfuly, flapping his wings faster, making his rider to bigly smile, loving when he flew this rapid. Moondancer, Vermax and Arrax growled, impishly, trying to keep up with him, making their riders to chuckled excited as well.

The mounted dragons were being kind of guarded from behind by the ones who were not. Syrax and Caraxes were flying, side to side, he whistlening and she breathing calmly. And, below them, a little child. Tyraxes, beautifully red, was doing his best on flying along with them, keeping their rythm and pace. None of them had their riders on their backs.

While seeing those seven dragons flapping their divines wings in the skies, Rhaena sighed once again, resting her elbows over a wooden railing. A wooden railing from the ship she was in.

They are on their way to Driftmark, indeed, for the celebration of Lord Corlys's name day. The seas and waters, knowing about the special day of their lord, have been highly kind to the Targaryen ship.

Rhaena turned her head briefly when she heard steps approaching. She sees Rhaenyra and Daemon, who walked to her with easy steps. The pregnant princess sided her head and smiled to her, caressing her belly. The young girl smiled too, facing them.

-Enjoying the views?-, her father asks, pointing towards the skies with his eyes.

-Amm, yes-. Rhaena giggles, somewhat ashamed, looking at the dragons again, briefly-. I fear I am-, she whispers, grabbing her hands over her belly.

Daemon inhales through his nose, staring silently at her, almost with pity, but hiding it well. Rhaenyra sighed with one of her so motherly smiles, placing a hand of hers over one of Rhaena's shoulders.

-I am more than sure that Syrax will be soon delivering a new clutch of eggs-. She says softly. Rhaena gulps with a presed smirk, looking ashance to her father, who sikently nodded, staring at the ship's floor-. You will take whichever you like the most, you sweet thing-. Nyra promises with the kindest tone.

The girl sighs, sort of comforted, lifting her lips with a smile and nodding to the princess, silent and thankful. Rhaenyra curves her lips into a grin, nodding too.

-Mother!-. Joffrey suddenly calls from the other side of the ship, making them turn around-. Why can't I ride my dragon along my siblings?!-, he asked pointing at the sky, offended and annoyed.

-Oh gods, again...-Rhaenyra sighs tiredly, leaving their side and walking to him with slowless, watching her steps-. I rode Syrax for the first time when I was seven, little boy!-, she says raising her brows-. You are not seven yet...-Rhaenyra reaches him, beginning to explain it to him.

Rhaena giggled lowly, looking at them. Then she looks at her father, who was already staring at her. She gulps briefly, glancing back at him. Daemon blinks, softly.

-You will fly one day with them, Rhaena-. He says with a nearly tender voice-. I know it-, the prince inssists, raising his brows. His youngest daughter looks at him, shamefaced, silent-. But you do not keep waiting for a dragon to come to you, it is not how it will happen-. Speaking lowly, he reproached her, shaking his head.

Rhaena tsked embarrased, turning around again, and not looking at him anymore. Daemon rolls his eyes, sighing tiredly.

-Why don't any of my daughters listen to me?, I wonder-. He mumbles annoyed.

She justs tsks again and shakes her head, silent, answering him in her mind. It is not as easy as it sounds.

Daemon plannned to talk again, but something else catches his gaze. He narrows his eyes, walking and placing himself at Rhaena's left, looking front. Confused, she looks too, also narrowing her eyes when she noticed something.

The Rogue Prince hummed with bitterness.

Another ship came into sight, nearing from south, having the red three-headed dragon on its veils. A Targaryen ship, one that sailed from King's Landing and was now following the same steps as them. We know who these are.

-Greens-, mumbled Rhaena with a sigh, closing her eyes and feeling a great tiredness just by mentioning them.

Alicent Hightower was standing with her hands crossed over her belly. The wind was blowing her red long hair. She had her lips lightly scrunched, and her gaze was nailed on that other Targaryen ship from afar, looking at it with weary.

-The Blacks...-, Lord Larys Strong, standing at her side, speaks with a sigh. She blinks heavily and looks at the sea, nodding-. We seem to have arranged our schedules with theirs, by accident-. He says with a smirk, one that did not reached his eerie blue eyes.

-Indeed, Lord Larys-. The Queen speaks with a low tone, not looking at him even for a second. He, on the other hand, stared endlessly at her, having a smirk always on his lips.

-The King would love the fact-, he says.

-Yes, he would-. She agrees, turning around and looking ashance at Ser Criston, who was standing behind her-...But my husband is not here-, she murmured, walking away. Her protector followed her instanly, leaving Lord Larys alone.

Alicent walked towards her dearest, Helaena, who was lying in a long seat, surrounded by cushions and maidens that were fanning her. The pregnant princess was calmly sleeping, being tenderly watched by her grandfather, who was seated at her side on another chair.

-Oh, good, she's sleeping at last-. Alicent sighed with a quick smile, staring at her. Helaena grunts in the middle of her sleep, fully gone.

The Queen giggles really low, remembering when she was the one pregnant with her. The easiest of her four pregnancies, for sure.

Mighty and louds roars are heard just from above their ship, which made them look up with casuality, knowing who were the ones soaring in the skies about.

Out of the clouds came four dragons, each of them flying fastly and stoppless, going as the mighty beasts they were.

Aemond laughed with his teeth clenched, grabbed to his saddle and looking front with a smile. The largest dragon of the world, ridden by him, outed the clouds with a loud growl, opening her wings and flapping them with power over the skies.

Aegon was hugged to Sunfyre's back, smiling while feeling his warmth and the wind around them. The most beautiful dragon of the world, this was, with his long white horns and the perfect mix of golden and pink in all of his structure. The prince sighed, in love with his dragon, mumbling praising words against his saddle.

Dreamfyre was riderless, for her sweet Helaena does not rider her so much, less in her actual condition. However, she is always at presence, wherever her rider goes, for they both really are fond of each other. She was black as the night but, at the same timed, shined like the moon, being the most silent and calmed of the dragons.

And, the last child of Queen Alicent, was also in the air. Daeron Targaryen was with his eyes narrowed and his thin lips forming a big smile, happily riding his dragon. The Blue Queen, Tessarion. The blue teen she-dragon was flapping her wings as well as the others, going fastly and freely with no clouds in the middle of her path.

The Greens's dragons, for how fast they were flying, eventually encountered with The Blacks's dragons, who had became aware of their presence already. Now there were eleven dragons in the sky.

Sunfyre roared sharply, recognizing his brother, Kalistrox, who turned his head towards them with his golden eyes, roaring back. Contrary to the dragons, their riders were not so happy of seeing each other. Well, most of them...

Aemond turned his head, looking to the right, and Daera turned her head to the left. And with this, their gazes met. Grabbed to their handles, and with their silver manes flying in the air, they both sighed and smiled when seeing each other. They were truly far, indeed, but not even that could cut their gazes, which shined thrilled.

Daeron upped his gaze towards The Golden Ray, seeing princess Daera in there, powerfully seated in her saddle, with her brown shoulders showing, her wild hair flying and her flirty lips smiling cockily, being effortless gorgeous. That made the prince to smile mesmerized, looking up while The Blue Queen carried him.

Aemond and Daera stared at each other again, from their distances, giggling michevously and funny. She bit her lips, wanting so bad to already touch him.

Kalistrox growled happily, shaking his neck, and suddenly changing his direction. Towards Vhagar. Daera flinched in her place and gave a light jump, quickly furrowing her brows and grabbing her saddle tighter.

-Kalistrox, daor! [ Kalistrox, no! ]-. She instantly begins to deny, shaking her head.

Aemond opened his eye big, and his dragon, when seeing the golden one wanting to approach, also growled with easiness and sided her big body, directing to him. He hissed exaltated, rapidly grabbing her ropes and pulling them back.

-No, no no no!-. He whispers quickly, clenching his teeth.

The rest of the dragonriders furrowed their brows instantly, growing scared when seeing how those two beasts started to kind of flounder in the sky. They seem to wanting to...be nearer?

-Daera, what?!-. Baela screams scared.

-Get away from Vhagar! Are you insane?!-, Luke shouts worried.

-Daera!-, screams Jace.

From below, in the ships, everybody also became aware of the struggling up there, freezing instantly when fearing the worst.

-What?-, Rhaena whispers.

Rhaenyra and Daemon walmed quickly, looking up at the skies with their mouths opened, highly confused. From her ship, Alicent gasps and grabbs Cole's arm strongly, staring frighted at his son's dragon.

Kalistrox roared shaking his neck while feeling Daera tightly pulling back her saddle. Why did she want to get away? He didn't understand, still wanting to reach Vhagar. The Queen of All Dragons wanted to reach her friend to, the one she has been hanging out with during more than half a year by now. What is the problem with her rider, all of a sudden?

Daera and Aemond, now closer, glanced at each other with nervous and anxiety, talking quickly with their gazes. They knew their dragons couldn't be seen bonding with each other. 'Tis the same with themselves.

-Kalistrox, daor sir! Daor sir! Dohaeras issa!  [ Kalistrox, not now! Not now! Obey me! ]-. Daera speaks firmly on his back, patting it with one hand insistedly. He growls confused, blinking multiple times.

-No no no, Vhagar, stop!-. Aemond shouts pulling strongly her ropes, wanting to change her direction again. She roars with annoyance and confussion, shaking her big long neck.

Daeron breathes extremely confused from Tessarion's back, whike Aegon was laughing amused from Sunfyre's, mocking how his brother and his cousin were having troubles with their dragons. Poor miserables.

Daemon narrows his eyes sharply, clenching his jaw and looking tensely at there. He swore Aemond was the guilty of all.

-Get away, Daera-. Rhaena mutters nervously, staring at the sky.

-Qrīdrughagon, taoba! [ Away, boy! ]-. Daera's voice came out firmly and with autoritance, staring at her dragon with her eyes really hardened. Commanding him.

Kalistrox growled under his breath, blinking, and moving his neck with a spoiled grunt. He, at last, returned to his initial direction again, flying back towards Arrax's side, and getting away from Vhagar. Luke, Jace and Baela sighed breathless, looking at her.

Aemond bit his lips, and then grunted pulling Vhagar's rope once again. She, after seeing The Golden Ray getting away, decided to obey. She roared, dissappointed, and kept flying front. She felt harsh caresses on her back.

-Fuck...-, The One-Eyed Prince mumbled, closing his eye.

The families on the ships also could breath again, but still looked confused and tense, not having understood even a bit of what just happened. Alicent touched her chest. Daemon grunted turning around, and Rhaenyra sighed caressing her belly. Rhaena took seat along Joffrey, grabbing his hands, relieved.

Jace gulps, staring and Daera, who has her head placed on her dragon's back, against his bare scales, seeming to be whispering something to him.

-īlon kostagon daor sagon ūndegīva hēnkirī [ We can not be seen together ]-, she tells him, raising her brows and caressing one of his sides. Kalistrox growled lowly, tilting his head briefly. She sighed, biting her lips for a moment-. Ziry iksos trūba [ It is dangerous ]-, the princess explained with a soft whisper, shamed.

The Golden Ray blinks, staying silent, listening to the girl's words.

Aemond kept caressing Vhagar's back, thanking the gods she was now calm and under his control again. He sighs over the blowing wind, looking sideways towards Daera, who was far from him. Again.

With the flapping wings of the dragons, and some minutes that passed quickly, Driftmark appeared in front of their gazes, at, coming into sight beautifully, surrounded by the big blue sea.

Baela, Rhaena and Daera smiled bigly from their places, already wanting to see heir grandma. Luke and Jace smiled the same way, glancing at each other.

The dragons, soon, entered the skies of Driftmark, soaring above High Tide, where a lot of heads raised when seeing them. The dragons of the greens flew to the right side of the island. Meanwhile, the blacks flew to the left of it, going their own way. Not even crazy they would land together.

Dreamfyre, Sunfyre, Tessarion and Vhagar landed on a hill big enough to take all four dragons, three of them being huge. Their riders didn't wait for anything to dismount them, leaving their saddles behind.

-That was quite a flight!-, Daeron commented with a curious giggle, caressing Tessarion's horns, and making her purr.

Aemond grunted sourly under his breath, letting go Vhagar's ropes and landing on the grass. He furrows his lips, looking at her.

-And quite an espectacle as well-. Aegon taunts with a burlesque smile, resting his back on Sunfyre, touching him with softness-. Was it not, brother?-. He curves his brows, staring at the one with a patch.

-Hmm-, Aemond simply humms, annoyed, while he adjusted his leather gloves. He looked askance to Helaena's dragon, checking if she landed well, which she did.

-What happened, up there?-. Daeron asks with honest curiosity, looking at Aemond, who was giving them his back, just facing his dragon.

-Ugh catch up, brother, Daera lives to disturb us-. Scoffed Aegon rolling his eyes at the youngest, who tilted his head with doubt-. No?-, he asks Aemond, reaching for his support.

The One-Eyed Prince presed his lips, inhaling slowly through his nose while staring Vhagar's rope. He knew he gotta play his part, as well as Daera probably is too, right at the moment. So, he sighed, and faced his brothers.

-Yes-, he answered dryly, beginning to walk firmly-. The girl finds amusement in screw us, as the child she is-. Aemond said tediously, hearing Aegon cheering laugh in an instant.

-Well I disagree-. Daeron spoke proudly, raising his chin while he followed his brother, starting to walk behind him. Aegon said goodbye to his dragon, kissing his saddle with a smile and following them too-. I find Daera as a feroceous and alluring woman-, he says with a big smile.

Aemond tighted his fists at the side of his body, rolling his eye and forcing himself to maintain silence, and hold his jelaousy.

-Ugh, do not start with your thing, brother-. Aegon complained to the youngest, hugging him from over his shoulder and making him tsk-. Daera would suck my dick first than yours-, he taunted. Daeron, disgusted, walked away from him.

Aemond felt a itchy rage on his inside when hering him talking like that. But again, his part. He had to swallow every desire to deffend her, for he would never 'normally' do this. He recited his duty on his mind, knowing he could not jeopardize himself and his lover.

Meantime, Kalistrox, Arrax, Vermax and Moondancer were also seeing how their riders dismounted them, landing their feet on the grass with equal sighs.

-Oh fuck, my back-. Daera grunts stretching her body with her nose scrunched.

-What was that?-. Jacaerys abruptly approaches to her, pointing at the sky and having his eyes wide opened.

-Ow, what the fuck, right?!-. The older sister sighs with disbelief, shaking her head. She glanced briefly at Tyraxes, checking that he landed alright.

-I got so scared-, Baela whispers walking towards her and grabbing one of her hands. Daera smiled with pity at her, tilting her head. How much she would like to tell them the truth-. What did Aemond did?-, she asks with sourness.

-Why did Kalistrox disobey you?-, Lucerys asks with a worried tone, approaching too.

-Woah, disobey is a strong word-. Daera snorts with a hurted proud, making them inevitably laugh. Though the brothers shivered a little when hearing the adjective-. Amm, I consider Aemond is not to blame, even though I'd like him to be-. She mumbles under her breath, joking the way she would usually do about him. They laughed again, indeed-. I pressume Kalistrox got excited when seeing Vhagar-, she sighs.

-In what way?-, Jace asks, tilting his head.

-Well, he used to fly with her every day, when we lived in Pentos-. Daera remembers, and her sister smiles nostalgic, remembering-. The last time he did was a long while ago, so...perhaps he thought it was still the same-, she mumbled looking down briefly, lying to them.

-Ow, poor boy...-Luke sighs staring at the golden dragon, who was licking his wings calmly.

-Thanks the gods then that Vhagar apparently remembered that too-, Jace scoffed, making Daera laugh.

-Well, we have chatted enough!-. Baela said bringing a smile on her face, hugging to her sister's arm-. Grandmother must be waiting for us, let's go!-. She insists, pulling her.

-Oh yes yes, fuck! Our ship must be making its arrival already!-, Daera agrees, pulling her too.

They did not waste another second, running together as they constantly do. They smelled the beach and loved it. In some sentimental way, Driftmark's waters always feel different to any other of the realm. The Velaryons have made them magical, so deeply blue.

While looking at that blue as they ran, Daera couldn't evade thinking of Aemond's blue sapphire, which made her smile silly. She wants to see him.

Quickly, they arrived to High Tide's tall gates that would lead them to the castle. However, they didn't expect to arrive at the same freaking time of their cousins and uncles.

Aemond and Daera were the first one to stop walking, overwhelmed by the warmth they felt when seeing the other from close. They both hided smiles with all of their will, though their shiny gazes were harder to pretend. The others halted too, but not too happy.

-Ah great-, Jace whispered.

They stopped, face to face, separated by five or six steps, looking at each other blankly and silently, waiting for their families to arrive.

-Cousins-, Daera smiled fakely at them.

Aemond instantly wanted to fuck her.

-Cousin-. Daeron takes a step front, smiling at the princess, who sighed tiredly when seeing him, siding an amused smile. Her siblings rolled their eyes-. It is a greatest pleassure, to meet again with you-. He speaks softly, having his arms crossed, and a smirk on his face.

-Hmm, I bet it is-. Daera nodded burlesque, crossing her arms too. Daeron smiled gently, sucking his cheeks and looking endlessly at her. Aemond side eyed him with a serious expression.

Daeron, as all the realm knows, is definetely the kindest son of Queen Alicent and King Viserys. He, just moons younger than Jace, is the favourite of everyone, to not say the least. He is gentle, helpful and handsome. Aegon is a drunk rapist and Aemond is a cold cunt. How to not prefer this soft young boy over them?

-...Nephews-, Daeron whispered to the boys, scoffing.

The problem with him, is that he also despites and taunts Rhaenyra's sons as well as his brothers do.

-Uncles-, Luke whispers under his breath, forcing himself to be polite, as always.

Aemond blinks and directs his gaze at Daera. Silently, she looks back at him, biting her lips briefly. He hummed looking away again for his well being. She laughed muted.

-I hope your trip was...joyful-. Baela says with the same fake politeness, smiling at them.

-Oh, it was-. Aegon smiles and nods. She looks coldly at him, barely pretending. He bit his cheeks a little, looking at the girls from up to down-...You two are stunning today, cousins-. He mumbles.

-Aegon-. Daeron snorted. Aemond side eyed at the older with a tense gaze. Baela grunted, Daera rolled her eyes and Luke flinched.

-Do not look nor talk to them like that-, Jacaerys grunted pointing at his uncle, who made a funny face of surprise, drawing his lips down-. Don't talk or look at them at all!-, he cleared.

-Then you are going to have to cover my mouth and eyes-, Aegon smiles burlesque.

-Aegon, mother told you to behave-. Aemond grunted coldly, and his older brother snorted-. You, at least try to-. He looks at Jace burlesque. Daera furrows her brows with a sigh.

-You ask for too much-, Daeron laughed covering his mouth. Jacaerys grunted offended, opening his mouth.

-Shut up!-. Daera silenced them all with a tedious tone, making them to close their mouths-. Shut up forever-, she points at Aegon.

All of their heads turned when encountering with their families already arriving along their crews, all together. Baela made a unconfortable face when seeing Rhaenyra walking almost alongside Alicent. Matters to say they were even more unconfortable.

Helaena was being helped to walk by a handful of servants and Criston, while Rhaenyra was held to Daemon's and Rhaena's arm, also walking a little more slow. They were all approaching deeply silent, not speaking a word, feeling the strain in the air.

-Wow-, Daeron's eyes narrowed-...Is it always this tense?-, he whispered. Aegon looked boredly at him while yawning.

Taking advantagde of everybody looking at them, Daera looked at Aemond, who looked back at her. He blinked, acommodating his shoulders, and she sighed, shrugging, and winking him an eye at the same time she faced the tall gates.

-Oy!-, she knocked with her two fists, turning some heads. Daeron smiled funnily-. The ghosts of The Conquest are here! 'Tis Visenya talking, open up!-, she yelled loudly.

Laughs were heard along everyone, specially her siblings and the servants. As always, she easied the tension with some joke. Helaena laughed tiredly, nodding. Rhaena chuckled, approaching quickly to them, being greeted by a smile from Luke.

Aemond pressed an amused smile looking at his lover. The gates instantly started to be opened from the other side, which made the princess smirk and take a step back.

-That was easy-, she mumbles, grabbing Rhaena's and Luke's elbows on hers. The both giggled.

-As fierce as fire-. Daeron praised her, sillied. Aemond looks at him and then tsks, getting away from his side and going to help Helaena. When he walked pass Alicent, she followed him with her gaze, serious, as well as Otto, remembering the espectacle in the sky.

When the gates were opened, they encountered with High Tide's welcoming front, where there were a lot of lords and ladies already waiting for them. And princess Rhaenys, being the first of them all, was standing in the castle's doors, instantly smiling when the first faces she saw were her grandchildren's.

-Welcome!-, she sighed with open arms. They smiled, and did not wait a second to quickly walk towards her, being under all the gazes of the lords and ladies at presence.

They hugged their grandma, dearly while the royal family entered to the castle's grounds. Some gasps were heard around, and low murmurs as well. All the drama and gossip the royal family brings with them never goes unoticed. Something that they, sadly, have become familiar with a long time ago.

Aemond walked slowly along his family, feeling all the looks above his eyepatch and on him in general, speaking about him, the tales that are true and the ones that are not. He just allowed himself to sigh, finding comfort on Helaena's grasp in his arm.

-All good?-. Rhaenys was whispering to her grandchildren, caressing Daera's cheeks while asking for their trip. They all nodded, smirking, and she copied them-. I am glad-, she sighs-. Stay by my side-, she asked sweetly, turning around, and facing the patio again.

At her right, Baela and Jace stood, and at her left Luke, Daera and Rhaena did too, all of them proud, behind their grandmother. Aemond, when seeing his love standing in there, in those stairs while looking at everyone, thought how magnificent she would look as a queen. The single thought made his heart to beat fastly.

A desorganized row formed in front of the Lady of Driftmark by the royal newcomers. Princess Rhaenyra and Prince Daemon, heading the line, approached to Princess Rhaenys with silent steps, looking politely at her. She, however, did not pretended much the unhappiness she felt when seeing them.

It was truly easy to loathe them when they hadn't their children on their sides. Having them behind her, Rhaenys sighed briefly, thinking of all the things this two princes have made to her poor family.

-Princess Rhaenys-, Rhaenyra greeted with a polite nodding.

-Princess-, Daemon nodded, dry. His daughters looked at him with a dissimulated rapprochement, asking him to be nicer. He ignored that.

Rhaenys blinks, with the smallest of smirks in her lips, looking at them with a complete silent.

-It is quite an honor to be here, joining you on such important date-, The Heir sighed curving her brows.

Daera and Aemond glanced fastly at each other, once again, from their distances. He admired the beautiful blue gown she was wearing, showing her shoulders. She, feeling hot, thought how she would never get tired of seeing him all dressed in black. That is so much his color. In their minds, they purred to one another, desiring so deeply to...well, to do their usual thing.

-Thank you, princes-. Rhaenys finally talked to her grandchildren's parents, who smiled tinyly at them-. Lord Corlys would appreciate your presences, indeed-. She draw her gaze away from them.

Rhaenyra and Daemon nodded tensely, not saying anything more and walking to a side, taking Joffrey with them.

And, after them, Queen Alicent, along her four children, one of them with child, and her father, stepped foward, greeting her. Rhaenys smiled quickly, noticing at an instant the absence of her cousin, Viserys.

-Princess Rhaenys-, Otto nodded politely.

-Princess-, Alicent smiled the same way.

-Your graces, Driftmark is honored for your presence today-. Rhaenys smiled mannerly-. And your children's...-she murmured, glancing at them.

Daeron was looking around with a curious smiled, seeing all the faces of the surroundings, and smelling the beach like it was right behind him. Helaena sighed tiredly, resting her head on Aemond's arm as she smiled to Rhaenys. Aegon looked at his pregnant wife, and rolled his eyes. Aemond was breathing slowly, not blinking.

-Hm-, Rhaenys nodded side ways-. Though I wonder about The King's presence-, she asked confused, furrowing her brows.

Meanwhile, Jace sneezed, and all of his siblings turned to bless him. This brief moment was totally taken by Daera to look at Aemond again, and he did the very same, clenching his jaw. She pretended to scratch her mouth just so she could send him a kiss with her lips, staring desirely at him. Aemond went breathless, closing his eye with impatience and horniness. He swore he heard her laughing tauntly at that monent, even when she didn't.

-Oh, I am deeply sorry to inform you that my husband could not make it with us-, Alicent sighed, with pity. Rhaenys blinks worried, while the children were listening to, as well as Rhaenyra and Daemon-. The maesters recommended him to skip the trip, you see, for with his condition it was not...the best for him-, she said, blinking constantly.

Daemon and Rhaenyra stared coldly al her, not trusting any of her words. Daemon snorted under his breath, looking at his wife, who looked back at him with a doubty and sour expression, clenching her lips. She silently nodded, and he furrowed his mouth.

Thanks to all of Daera's visits to the capital, they have learned that The Queen apperared to be becoming really overprotective on her husband's health. In all of this months, Daera has only seen her uncle thrice. Every other time she had denied the right to seeing him. But, they times that she did, which were short, she would find an ill and weak man lying on his bed, mumbling nonsenses. She barely could bear the sight.

-That is something to lament...-Rhaenys murmurs dissappointed, and Alicent noded the same way, sighing. The Lady of Driftmark inhaled through her nose, tightening her shoulders-. You should enjoh your stay here, however, as my cousin would want you to-, she said.

-Indeed, princess-. Otto smiled, as well as Alicent, who nodded with her lips closed.

Rhaenys nodded, politely signaling them to step aside. Doubtless, they did. She looked at Helaena and could not hide a tender smile when looking at her buldging belly. By its size, she could tell she was due to a few weeks to give birth, or even days, if the gods wants her to.

-My lords, and my ladies!-. Rhaenys's voice raised between them all, gaining everyone's attention again-. The ones who would like to are invited to now head to the Driftwood Throne hall, where you will enjoy of an appetizer!-, she informs opening her hands with a smile-. For those who are tired from their trips, you are free to acommodate and rest!-, she says. Her grandchildren were looking at her with smirks, admiring her sweet politeness-. Lord Corlys nameday's ball will begin after the sun goes to sleep, and we all shall meet in the main hall!-, the princess informs.

Lord Colys's wife curves her brows, slowly glancing at all the people that were present because of the respect and love kept for her lost husband. That made her sigh.

-...High Tide is yours-, she nodded proudly, to then turn around, and take her grandaughters's hands.

With this, all of the guests clapped and cheered happily, beginning to head themselves to the place mentioned. Rhaenys smiled looking down, heading the way with Rhaena's and Baela's hands on hers. The princesses smiles towards each other, walking calmly while everyone behind followed.

Daera walked alongside Jace and Luke, standing in the middle of them. Soon, Rhaenyra placed herself in Luke's side, and Daemon in Jace's, reaching them, and now advancing together.

-May I ask what was that trouble in the skies?-, asked Daemon with a sour interest, glancing at his daughter.

-Please-, sighed Rhaenyra, looking around.

-As I said to my siblings, Kalistrox seemed to have remembered Vhagar from Pentos-. Daera sighed her response, looking at Jace, who looked back at her with a little smile, believing her-. We all here recall that she was once my mother's dragon-, she mumbles.

-Um...-Daemon nodds, blinking and drawing his gaze to the floor when remembering Laena.

-Until my uncle stole her...-Luke mumbled under his breath, and his mother looks at him with a soft pity, caressing his bair.

On the inside, Daera flinched at the word 'stole', but did not show any emotion. She just gulped and, grabbing her father's arm, kept walking with her lips closed. Daemon interwined his elbow with hers, sighing and also walking silently.

Aemond and his family were walking far from them, from behind. However, he takes every opportunity to glance at Daera's mane, seeing how it bounced with every step she gives. The one-eyed sighed, and suddenly flinched when he felt a tight grab in one of his arms.

-Aemond-, Alicent names him with a strong whisper.

-Hmm?-, he looked down at her with interest, furrowing his brows.

-What was that with Daera's dragon and Vhagar, huh?-. His mother asks reproachfully, looking around and making sure nobody was looking at them. Obviously, some people were looking at them.

-I have no interest on Daera's doings, or her dragon-. He denies dryly, shrugging-. But I kept Vhagar away, that is what matters, mother-. He says, though it was Kalistrox the first to obey his rider.

-Well she seemed agitated too, so have an interest in that-. Alicent says, giving a harsh caress on his arm while they walked, looking front. He, looking softly at her, raises his brows briefly-. Control her, Aemond...remember where we are-, she thinly whispered, having a thousand memories.

With those formers words, he also did, tightening the pressure on his jaw. Blinking, he remembered the first and last time he was here, in Driftmark, when he had to close an eye. The night repeated on his mind like it was a song. He gulped, feeling how bitter his saliva was suddenly tasting.

He landed his only eye on Lucerys's mane, looking at him from behind with resentment and seriousness. It was almost like the boy felt his gaze, for he slowly turned his head around, sort of confused, wondering what was that sharp feeling he was sensing on his back. When Luke looked around, it made sense when he found Aemond's cold eye nailed in him, quarrelsome and rapacious.

Lucerys shivered, intimidated, and instantly turned around again, tightening his gripping on Rhaenyra's and Daera's hands. When feeling that, Daera smiled curious at him, without knowing of his fear, and placed a tender kiss on his hair, making him calmer. When he saw that, Aemond wanted to puke. He shuddered with a disgusted expression, dying for take her to erase Luke brown hair's touch with his own lips.

Shortly after, the people arrived to the Driftwood throne's room, which was big enough to take everyone at presence, for the moment. Thy were welccomed by a warm fireplaced lit and servants instantly offerring them the promised appetizers.

Rhaenyra and Daemon, as The Heir and Royal Consort, had to leave the children by their own and wander around the hall, greeting and talking with all the lords and ladies that craved by their attention. Daera and her siblings, then, stayed together with their grandma, talking entertained between them.

A comfortable divan was fetched for princess Helaena near the fireplace. She thanked it heartly, seating in there with tiredness for the trip, having the company of her three brothers. Burlesque murmurs were wandering the hall, ones that said how the young princess seemed to be doing worst than princess Rhaenyra, who carried her pregnant belly with no exhaustion. They seemed to not understand this was poor Helaena's first pregnancy, and Rhaenyra's fourth.

Alicent was mumbling cursings to every tale-taler about her daughter, along Ser Criston, who always remained at her side while she drank wine.

-Children-, Rhaenys sighed after a guard mumbled something to her ear. Her grandchildren looked at her, curious-. I am being told that the Tullys are nearly arriving to our gates, so I must go and welcome them, if you excuse me-. She smiled pitied, caressing Rhaena's hair.

-Oh yes yes, you may, grandma-. Jacaerys instantly noded, kindly as well as the others.

-Go, do not worry for us-. Baela smiled the same way.

-Good-, Rhaenys nodded-. You all remember where your chambers are, do you not?-. She pointed at them, narrowing her eyes.

-Of course we do!-, snorted Daera with obviousness-. Now go on, the Tullys are not known for their patience-, she raised her brows.

Rhaenys smiled with a sigh, and then she parted to meet her arriving guests, being followed by two guards. Her grandchildren stayed by themselves, surrounded by all the people of the hall.

-Gods, I love this room...-Baela sighs, looking around softly. Jace smiles looking at her.

-It's always so warm-, agrees Luke with a giggle, tipping his foot on the floor. He instantly realized that was not the best thing to say, remembering that this is the very hall where his father, Leanor Velaryon, died in the flames. That made him clenched his jaw, gulping strongly.

Jacaerys thought about that too, and scratched his arms with same. The girls thinked about his fallen uncle too. The two youngers gulped, while Daera inhaled through her nose.

-I think is rather romantic-, she shrugged funnily, raising her chin. They smiled amused at her, drawing away the sadness-. Hmm, I think I once had a warm meeting with one of grandma's servants in the lonely parts of the beach-, she mumbled narrowing her eyes.

-News to me-, snorted Baela rolling her eyes with a laugh. The boys blushed and chuckled too.

-I know you dare to have another one of those in this trip in that very same place, or any other-, Rhaena talked with a taunt smiled, elbowing her older sister jokely.

The others laughed, and so did Daera, but at the same time she directed her eyes to the other side of the hall. Standing in front of the fireplace was Aemond, along his siblings, and he was looking back at her. So hidden yet so deeply. She knows to read his eye so well, and she knew what he wanted. For her to approach. Oh, and how much she wants that too. Aemond breathed slowly, blinking the same way with softness, thinking of his wildest dreams.

Daera lowered her gaze towards Helaena, and she found her looking at she already, caressing her belly. Helaena raises her brows and nodds briefly, pointing at her place with her clear eyes. Daera narrowed hers, smiling, and understanding the silent invitation of her dear cousin.

-Siblings-. Daera calls them with a soft smirk, making them to stop their talk and look curiously at her-. Why don't we go to greet Helaena? It's been ages since you last saw her-, she raises her brows. The last time they saw her was on the week of her wedding, more than half a year ago.

-Oh yes, that'd be lovely-. Rhaena instantly nodded.

-Let's go-, smiled Baela.

Daera smirked nodding.

-Ehh...-Jace mumbled while Luke scratches his hair-. We rather not-, he said politely.

The girls blink confused, but soon they knew it was due to Aegon, Aemond and Daeron, who were standing just behind Helaena, guarding her. The sisters understood problemless.

-We may greet her in the ball, later-. Decided Luke with a shamed smile. Daera smirked softly at him, nodding briefly towards his decision. She actually thanked it, for she does not like to see Aemond being mean towards them.

-You shall-, she whispered raising her brows.

-We'll meet later then-, Baela said looking at the boys-. We will head to our chambers afterwards-, he informed looking at her sisters, who nodded, agreeing.

-Very well-, Jace smiled to her, and then he sees Luke-. Come, let us see if mother is doing alright-, he ordered.

Aemond hummed looking around, bored. But his gaze lighted as soon as he saw Daera approaching towards them, with her sisters. He tighted his arms behind his back, remembering that there was a posture to maintain in front of this people. Daera, allowing herself to be more free, pressed a smile while looking ashance at him, biting her cheeks. She knew everybody was mattering their own matters, so what a smile could do?

-Girls-, Helaena sighed with a smile when seeing them coming.

-Go-, Daera murmured letting their hands go, pushing them lightly towards their cousin.

-Helaena-, greeted Baela with a kind smile, arriving.

-You look gorgeous-, flattered Rhaena tenderly.

Aegon sighed bored, listening to the talk between the ladies. Daeron was smiling since he saw Daera nearing. Aemond rolled his eye towards him, hating his attraction to her. It has always been there, of course, but he is not the same as always, not when being with Daera, as well as happens to her with him.

The older sister crossed her hands over her belly with a soft smile in her lips, looking at the girls chatting with Helaena, who was talking low and tired, but always smirking to them. Daera blinks and looks sideways to Aemond, who was staring at them too.

-Oy, Daera-. Aegon tries to have some fun, facing her.

-We've been playing this game for moons in every of my visits so, please, at least for today, I want you to shut your mouth, turn around, walk away and bury your face in a wine barril while my sisters try to maintain a conversation with Helaena-. Daera speaks dryly without even looking at him. He opened his mouth. Daeron laughs surprised, and Aemond hided a smile.

Aegon was about to fight back. She faced him coldly, warning him with a silent gaze. He clenched his jaw and breathed through his nose, stopping. He thought twice, and gulped. Aegon grunted lowly and passed right at her side, walking away with mumbled curses outing his mouth.

Daera sighed and blinked with a calm smile, raising her chin. The girls thanked her with smirks, and returned to their little chat again. Daera turns her face sideways, looking at Daeron after feeling his stare so intensely.

-Have I stolen something from you, cousin?-. She turns to him amusedly, raising her brows. Daeron giggles, and Aemond has to look at her too, for he was standing just as his brother's side. Thanks the gods. That is the same reason why she also faced the younger one, so she could look at her lover.

-My heart and breath, I am afraid-. Daeron answered with a tender mumble, shrugging.

Daera chuckles curving her frown. He might be a problem to her brothers, indeed, but he has always have a very remarkable enchant, especially when trying to court her.

-Ha, you are persistant, I'll give you that-. She smiled to him, tilting her head to a side, which Daeron also did, following her gaze-. But I don't do children, my boy-. Daera laughs softly. Aemond looks at her, emotionless, but smiling proudly on the inside.

-I am a young man already, not a child-. The boy denied and shrugged, still smiling. She agreed with him with a little nodd, remembering he is the same age as Jace, who is only a year and a half younger than her.

-You have grown, indeed-. She nods-. They are feeding you well in Oldtown-, she jokes.

-They are-. Daeron smiled-. And you...you are a woman-, he sighed silly, glancing at her uncovered shoulders.

Daera scoffed surprised.

-I would recommend you to not waste your time, brother, and to stop embarrasing yourself-. Aemond spoke, from a moment to another, coldly. Jelaous-. You have better things to attend to, do you not?-. He asks, looking sideways at him. Daera felt her womanhood pulsing, knowing that he was envying her attention towards his brother.

-And what things are those?-, snorted Daeron shrugging.

-Young ladies fawning over you, right at our right-. Aemond sighed, not even looking at the side he mentioned. Daera and Daeron did, finding some girls his age glancing constantly at The Queen's youngest boy. They all giggled when he stared and smiled kindly at them. Aemond rolled his eye, once again, which Daera looked at amusedly.

-They are delightful-, Daeron nodded gently-. But my cousin here is jaw-dropping-. And again, he flirts with her.

-You jester-, Aemond sighed tiredly.

-Uhh...Daera?-. Rhaena called her with a confused tone.

She turns to them, and saw how her sisters were staring confused at Helaena, who literally fell asleep from a second to another and now was snoring lightly, having her mouth opened.

-Ah yes-, Daera sighs-. She tends to do that-, she narrowed her eyes with a soft smile.

-Oh gods-, Otto arrived within a second, seeing his sleepy granddaughter-. She can not sleep here-, he mumbles ashamed, looking around at all the people.

-Let's take my sister to her chambers!-. Daeron instantly proposed, walking towards the divan and grabbing her hands-. Helaena-, he calls softly.

She snores.

-Seven hells-, Daeron sighs.

-We can help-, Rhaena said with a pity smile, and Baela followed her. Otto sighed standing Helaena up from the seat with all the caution of the world.

-Careful there...-The Hand whispers while she groaned tiredly.

Daera and Aemond, staying on their places, looked at there quietly, seeing that they had the enough help to treat with Helaena.

-There is a grass between the...-the dearest mumbles in the middle of her sleep-...between the tides-, she warns.

-Don't force yourself, sister, shush-. Daeron kindly recommended, taking her wide hips carefully.

Daera furrowed her mouth and, slowly, walked closer to the fireplace, gaining sudden interest in it. False. She did it to stand on Aemond's side, and he inhaled through his nose, remaining with no emotion. Daera, on the other hand, had the freedom of show her desire and dispair, for she was facing only the fire. No one could see her face. They both know he is better at pretending in this sort of ocassions.

-...My goddess-, he greeted in a very low whisper, barely moving his thin lips.

-Greetings, my love-. She murmur under her breath, playing with her fingers. Aemond hummed, looking around delicately-. I hope you had a good flight on your way here-, she mumbles.

-I did, and I hope the same for you-. Aemond whispered, wanting to look at her, but not allowing himself to.

-Uhum-, the princess nodds, looking at the fire that lighted her face-. We have to be more careful with our dragons-, she mumbled.

-Indeed-. He agreed with a whisper, nodding. The prince bit his cheeks from inside, silent for a few seconds-...I bought you something-. He murmured.

Daera felt all of her body burn. She smiled happily towards the fire, biting her lips briefly.

-Um, that is curious, for I have something for you as well-. She muttered with a cocky smirk, looking him sideways. Aemond clenched his jaw, hiding a smile while seeing how they were taking Helaena away with softness.

-I want to finger you-, he whispered. Daera gulped harshly, placing a hand on the wall and blinking slowly-. I want to ride you, Daera, I cannot wait longer-. He nearly moaned, and she did too before his confession-...I want us to be alone-, he said.

-We crave for the same, lover-. The princess sighed stressed-. But we share chambers with our siblings, it can't be there, or now-, she denied. He hummed annoyed, letting his gaze to show a little despair.

-What is our move, then?-. Aemond asked with a murmur.

-Leave it to me-. She answered with simplicity-. Go with your siblings now, and I'll go with mine, for now. I'll make sure you soon are riding and fingering me, as well as I will be riding you, and tasting your cock-. Her whisper came out with a desire hotter than the fire in front of her. Aemond sucked his cheeks from inside, not blinking-...Go, before we can't hold longer-, she muttered.

Aemond furrowed his lips with annoyance, keeping appearances, and then he hummed growly, walking away with his firm steps and his long hair bouncing in his back.

Daera stayed staring at the fire, slowly forming a smile on her gorgeous lips, having a thousand thoughts on that pretty mind that drives Aemond insane.

■ ■ ■

The Targaryen sisters arrived to their shared chambers, with the older one closed the door behind them. They three sighed when seeing the room.

-It never changes-, whispered Daera, proudly.

The chamber is covered by a sweet warmth even though its fireplace was not lit. There were two beds, each of them with blue and grey sheegs, and three wooden budoirs. The balcony was huge, and it gave a full look towards the gret Narrow Sea. They could see their dragons flying from here. On top of the fireplace there was a shelf, full of Valyrian books, some jewerly, old toys, along ink an paper, which were also really old.

-Greetings, mom...-Baela whispered with a soft smile, looking around.

These used to be Laena's chambers when she still lived with her parents. Every time her daughters come to visit, it is here that they stay. Rhaenys and Corlys, long ago, made sure to bring an extra bed and two more budoirs for their granddaughters's comfort, but the aura of the room has never change. It is almost as if Laena could be...felt, in here.

Daera gulped harshly, playing with her fingers while walking around the room as well as her sisters, each of them feeling the same. Grief.

-It does not seem to matter how many times we come in here-, Rhaena talks with lowness, walking to one of the beds and caressing it-, is always hard, is it not?-. She asks softly.

-It is-, whispered Baela, passing her fingers through one of the walls, feeling them.

The sister of the middle sighed, taking seat in one of the beds, the very one that belonged to their mother. The younger girl flinches and instantly goes there too, feeling great significant when seating over the same mattress Laena used to.

-'Tis so soft-, she briefly giggles.

The older sister walked in front of the fireplace with slowness, looking with sad and interest to the things placed on the wooden shelf. She smiled when she saw "Laena y Laenor" written on the wood with some dagger, or a fork perhaps. Daera always expects to see that when she comes to Driftmark. It feels nice to remember that her mother actually lived a very good life, comfortable and loved.

With a tiny smile, Daera thought of telling Aemond of this signature of the Velaryon siblings when they were kids. He would love the story, she is sure. His name made echoe in her mind. Aemond. She suddenly imagined how it would be if they also left their name in some place of the castle. Daera y Aemond over some wood. He definetely would love that. They both would.

The princess sighed, and her eyes found a tiny box covered by blue leather, the very blue of the Velaryon sigil. She, curious, grabbed it. And when she opened it, inside she found a beautiful pair of earrings. They were blue as well, but this was deeper and shinier. Daera narrowed her eyes, thinking of how beautiful they must had seen on Laena. She smiled, sad, closing the small box and putting it in its place back again. She decided she would keep them.

-I miss her...-, a thin whisper was heard from behind her. It was Rhaena.

Daera got out of her thoughts, forgetting about herself and turning around. She just came to realize thag her sisters were on Laena's bed, slouched and looking at the floor with sad tears reaching their eyes. Daera flinched in that instant, forgetting about anything else.

-Ow, my girls-. She sighs and quickly walks to them.

-I miss her too-, Baela whispered heavily. They saw how Daera kneeled on the floor in front of them, having a soft gaze and her brows curved-. You do too-. She did not ask this, but affirmed it.

-Of course I do-, Daera answered with a tsk, sidening her head-. We all do...and we know its never easy to come here-. She whispered, glancing their surroundings.

Rhaena did the same, sniffing and blinking quickly.

-Imagine, if she still was with us-. The younger muttered, sorrowful, curving her frown. Baela sobbed, closing her eyes strongly. Daera gulps and whimpers briefly, looking at them both-. She would still sleep here, every time we came...-she murmured.

-This would be her room, indeed-. Baela agreed with a sad sobb, shaking her head-...Not ours-, she said heavy-hearted and shamed.

Daera gulps again, strongly, feeling the tears gathering on her eyes. She moves them from Baela to Rhaena, sensing their sadness and mournfulness. She begins to shake her head briefly, raising her hands and grabbing theirs with firmness, making them to look at her.

-We are sisters-, she said kind of shakily, raising her brows-. Her daughters. This is her room...and ours-. Daera pointed, speaking slowly. They sobb thinly, looking sad at her-. She would be so proud of us sleeping in here, I know she is, wherever she is now-. Their older sister promised, vividly, grasping their hands with love.

-I just miss her so much-. Rhaena shook her head, weakly, letting her tears to fall coldly on her face. Daera tsks and clean them with her thumb, caressing her cheek.

-Sometimes I even forget she is gone-, Baela laughs sourly, resting her head on her free hand-. Gone forever-, she said sharply, crying.

Daera's lips trembled, and she knew her tears would soon came down. So she sighed and dragged them both, nearing them to her and hugging them with an exhorbitant love. Baela and Rhaena ended up kneeled on the floor too, and they instantly hugged to the older with all of their strength, beginning to cry with no remorse.

-Shh, shh...-Daera caresses both their backs, closing her eyes while feeling them sobbing-. She is not gone forever-, she whispered tenderly, resting her head on Baela's shoulders-. We are her legacy, remember?-, she asks softly.

They responded with light nods, whimpering on her shoulders stoppless, knowing they were the safest place in the kingdoms to cry and let out all of their pains. Daera's shoulders and words have always been there for them since Laena's ones went away.

-We are Velaryons-, she whispered lovingly, caressing their manes while feeling how hers was being wet by their tears, which she did not mind-. With us three...our mother will always persist-. Daera promised, firm-. Will she not?-, she smiled, pulling jokely both of their hairs.

-Ow, yes, she will!-. Baela laughed and cried with surprise, backing up to see her face. Rhaena also giggled in the middle of her tears, facing her too.

-She will...-the younger agreed, softly.

Daera's mouth curved into a smile, warm and lovingly, caressing the girls's cheeks with dearness, staring at both pair of eyes.

-I am glad you know it-. She whispered, and they laughed softly, looking at her. Daera smiled-...Why don't we go and walk a while on the beach, as we used to with mom?-. She proposed tenderly.

-Yes, yes-. Baela instantly nodded, cleaning away some of her tears.

-That'd be great-, Rhaena whispered with a smile. Daera wrinkled her eyes and smiled to them, raising her brows-. But- but first I want to get ready for the ball, I don't care if is too early for it-, she sighed.

-Let's get you ready then-, Daera smiled-. Op, but we still have pending the beds situation...-she mumbles.

They three turned their heads, slowly, to glance at the beds. Every time is the same. They have to decide who will be the one enjoying a bed for herself, and which two will have to share the other one.

The sisters blinked.

-The losers say "what"-. Rhaena spoke so fastly she was not understandable.

-What?-, Baela and Daera asked, confused.

-The bed is mine!-, Rhaena laughs and claps victoriously.

Baela and Rhaena deflated dropping their jaws.

■ ■ ■

In other wing of High Tide and in a lower height, were the guests use to rest during their staying, there were the Targaryen brothers, Alicent's boys, also sharing a single chamber for them three.

Aegon was lying in one of the beds. His eyes were closed and his lips were opened, having a wooden cup between them, sipping wine from it endlessly. The jar at his side was almost empty, for he has been drinking from it since they arrived to the room.

-Oh, bloody gods...-he sighs with a silly smile, caressing his own chest with his free arm-. Sailor wine is different, they are a bless from The Seven-. He giggled proudly, sipping from it again.

Aemond was seated in the chambers's balcony. He had his legs crossed and his arms resting on the sides of the chair. Silently, he was mesmerized by the astonishing view he has of the beach. The room was not placed high in the castle at all, so he could stare problemless to the sand, the waves and the sea. Its blue reminded him of his sapphire, which made him humm lowly. The one-eyed prince was entertaining himself just by admiring the surroundings, finding some calm in it. Though he lives in the capital, he rarely sits on his chambers to stare at the ocean. Perhaps he should start doing it. It also reminded him of Daera's blue gowns.

The younger Targaryen was not as silent as the other two.

-Come on, brothers, let us go out and take fresh breeze!-. Daeron was begging walking around all the chambers-. 'Tis a beautiful day outside! I couldn't have been the only one who saw those precious seahorses-shaped fountains they have outside!-, he shouts with a shrill voice.

-Shut it!-, Aegon grunts, gone to drunkenness already.

-Ugh!-, Daeron tsks-. There are no beaches like this in Oldtown, I want to go out-. He sighs tiredly, staring at the ceiling.

-Then why don't you go out?-. Aemond asked, monotonus, looking outside with a calm expression.

-Because mother told me to not go out by my own in here-, he mumbles ashamed, crossing his arms.

-Wow, you've grown to be obedient...what a pity-, Aegon mumbled hoarsely, smiling burlesque.

-I would go out with Helaena, I know she would like to join me, instead of you-. Daeron grunts with annoyance-. But my dear sister seems to be minutes away of having her first child-, he sighs anxious.

-Ugh, let us pray it does not turns out that way-, Aegon tsked, indolent-. I do not want my child to be born in...in this tavern of castle-, his silly voice mumbles inside the cup.

Aemond clenched his jaw when he heard him talking like this. He surprised himself when he got offended, for he thought about how this is the land of Daera's mother, and she would definetely wouldn't want it to be talked about like that. The one-eyed growled, lowly, not being heard by his brothers.

-I also wish Helaena could join you, for I do not want to walk around here-. Aemond spoke with a flat tone. Daeron looks at his back, listening-. Do I ought to remember you this is no paradise...for us?-, he asks, blinkless.

His little brother sighs briefly, instantly remembering that the last time his family was here, him not involved, was when Aemond lost an eye and claimed Vhagar. Also the night were their mother cut ferouciously their half-sister's arm and wanted to also tear away one of her son's eye. People in Oldtown still speak about that night, even though is a long passed one.

-Well, I apologize, but I want to make my own memories in here-. Daeron said proudly. Aemond rolled his eye and hummed, not talking to him again-. Hmm...-he thinks in something, caressing his own shoulder.

Seconds after, he turned around to see Aegon, who was still drinking in the bed.

-Big brother, I estimate you will reconsider your answer after I tell you that...-Daeron approaches with relaxed steps. Aegon looks at him boredly-...I heard in the halls that some of the Lannister ladies are taking a dive in the sea-, he mumbles with desinterest, shrugging.

In that moment Aegon coughed loudly, beginning to nod vividly and standing up from the bed within a second.

-Well, let- let us go, little shit!-. Aegon coughs and points to the door desesperately, pouring in his cup the lasts drops of wine of the jar.

Daeron cheers and runs there, opening the entry quickly. All red because of his cough, Aegon sips the drink and outed the room along his little brother, who closed the door harshly before sprinting out running.

Aemond stayed by himself, which did not bothered him at all. At the contrary, he thanked his annoying brothers went out already.

He remained seated, looking at the lonely and beautiful sea, feeling the breeze and smelling the salt. Everything was silent, until he hears some femine voices suddenly coming from not to far.

Aemond furrows his brows, leaning front in the chair, and narrowing his eye towards the near beach.

And so, he finds the Targaryen sisters walking on the beach by themselves, talking happily, elbowed-helded between them. He smiles tinyly when he saw Daera. She shines more than the blue waters of the sea. The prince keeps silent and quiet, deciding to stare at her from his place without she noticing him.

He leans back in his chair again, calmed.

-And do you remember when grandsire taught us to swim in the ocean?-, Daera recalls with a grating tone, curving her brows.

-Gods, I was so scared!-. Rhaena sighs closing her eyes. She was already ready for the ball, dressed in a beautiful white gown of silk.

-We nearly drown almost four, five times?-. Baela asks scrunching her nose.

-Four, five? Please! I wished it had been four or five!-, Daera snorted, making them laugh funnily.

-Well, five or whatever number of times it was...we did learn-, Baela sighs proudly, staring at the ocean they were walking by. Her sisters smile, looking at there as well-. In this very shore, was it not?-. She tilts her head.

-This very one-, Rhaena answered with a sigh and a laugh, looking at it with a nostalgic feeling-. We have to swim here before be leave-, she said raising her brows.

-Hmm...-Daera narrowed her eyes, slowly separating her elbows from hers-. Why don't we do it now?-, she proposed with a taunt smile, walking backwards in the sand.

-Uhh-, Baela claps interested.

-What? No!-, Rhaena instantly denied-. I just readied myself, I will not change again!-, she shaked her head harshly.

-Then don't-. Daera shrugged, smirking, and jumping to fall right inside of the beach, weting her feet and the end of her skirt. Baela laughed excitedly, running there in an instant while Rhaena scoffed with disbelief-. Ohh, magic waters of Driftmark!-, she shouts to the skies.

Aemond's face dyes with warm when he sees this. He chuckled resting his jaw over his closed fist, admiring how Daera was jumping and screaming on the water along Baela, who did not care either about wetting her dress.

-You must be insane!-, Rhaena laughs bemused, standing in the sand.

-And you are too dry!-, Baela shouts lifting water into her hands and throwing it to her.

-Baela!-, Rhaena squeals walking backwards-. Stop, I already told you!-, she grunts madly.

Baela and Daera laughed funnily, starting to splash water between them, tasting the salt in it. The sisters traveled back in time, when used to be them and their mother. Laena would splash water to them endlessly, without harming or drown them, and they would be watched by Daemon from Caraxes's back or even from the very sand, lying in there while seeing them play in and with the water.

Laena's laugh and happy face appeared in front of the sisters's eyes, causing them to smile bigger and laugh louder, almost feeling her in there with them. After all, her spirit is resting among these very waters.

A light chuckle left Aemond's curved lips, staring at Daera with a deep love, enjoying so much to see her having fun.

-Rhaena, come on sister!!-, she grunts happily, splashing her hands in the sea.

-Tomorrow I will, but not now!-. Rhaena groaned with insistance, opening her eyes bigly-. The sea will not be gone!-, she points.

-But we will!-, snorted Baela-. Come here!-, she splashes tons of water towards her. Rhaena squealed when, this time, all those drops did reach her, and it got wet all the end of her silk skirt, drawing it grey.

Daera gasped covering her mouth and bursting out laughs, while Baela opened her eyes with a bemused smile.

-NO, BUT-! I cannot believe you right now!-. Rhaena shouted, madly, turning around and beginning to walk away.

-Ow, I am so sorry, do not go!-. Baela apologized walking out of the water.

-Do not follow me! You'll ruin the other dress too!-, the younger outraged walking with her little fists tightened.

-I am sorry!-, Baela insisted, following her with hurry.

-Rhaena!-, Daera called between her laughs, having her hands placed on her knees while she chuckled.

Laughing, she saw how her two sisters walked away hurrifull, soon heading to the castle again. Daera shook her head from side to side, passing her hands through her mane, and closing her lips with a funny and relaxed smile, sighing.

She heard the waves of her surroundings.

And then, she looked directly at Aemond.

The one-eyed prince raised his brows from his seat, inevitably surprised, a feeling she did not seem to share. He saw her smiling tauntly, caressing her mane. For how long has she known he was staring at her?

Aemond grined at her, lifting his cheeks charmingly. The short distance between the beach and his balcony allowed him to see, clearly, how she smiled back at him. At the same time, she placed her hands on her own thighs, gripping them lightly while looking at him. The prince furrows his brows a little, staring at her.

...What is she doing?, he thought.

Daera looked around, biting her lips with a cautious smile. And, at the same time, she placed one of her hands on her left breast, gripping it tightly between her fingers. She saw no one around, so she grasped it harder. Aemond flinched in his chair, going breathless when seeing how her dress and skin was being squeezed by herself. He almost could hear her moan.

-Daera-, he named, guttural, even though she could not hear him.

The princess directed her other hand to her skirt, gripping its fabric and pulling it away from the water. It dripped infinite drops, ones that ran down her legs, for they now were at sight. For him. She lifted her skirt to the height of her thighs, showing him how wet they all were. Showing him the belt of his that is always there. The prince, in that moment, felt his cock twitching in his pants, suddenly waking up when his eye started to capture such magnetic view.

Aemond breathed through his open lips, reading the desire on her eyes, the invitation for him to enjoy of this sight. She bit her lips, again, and pulled up softly the fabric over her womanhood, uncovering it lightly, but noticable. And, as usual, she was wearing no undergarment, and that allowed him to see her cunt, which she tighted when closing her thighs strongly, showing him.

He sighed breathless, turning his head around quickly to see the rooms. He was still alone, and the door still closed. He prayed deeply to The Seven for no one to come in, for no one to knock, and definetely for no one to interrupt his provoking moment with his goddess.

Aemond hummed smoky, landing his eye on her again. And entering his hands on his pants, directing them to his cock.

Daera looked around for the millionth time. But there was no truly need to. She knows Driftmark, she knows a very few people truly care about what it bas to offer. She know no one walks through this part of the beach. So, confident, she turned around, and showed him her bare ass, grabbing it with her hands and squeezing it, while the waves around were caressing it sweetly.

Her cousin groan with disbelief, having one of his hands surrounding his dick, and touching it back and forth, feeling how hard it already was, and seeing how the fucking goddess in the beach was fucking herself with the water, moving on it while looking back at him at every second. Aemond bit his lips and, with his free hand, he untighted the threads of his pants, wanting his hand on his manhood to move more freely. He growled, desirely, watching Daera's ass and her hands on it, digging her nails in it. Ow, how much he would like to be the one doing so.

She moaned, turning around again and now grabbing both of her breasts, pushing them up and marking them with her fingers's pressure. She saw how agitated Aemond was, nailed on his chair and moving lightly on it while looking at her. It was not hard at all, for her, to deduct that he was touching himself. That made her feel so proud. That made her moan, and to upper her skirt again and show him more of her cunt. Daera sinked it in the water, just for when it came out it was all wet and driping salty water, making it even more delicious.

Aemond moaned so hard at this. He had bring out his cock completely, and now was stroking it from up to down. It was leaking precum and it was red, hungry for more touch but finding enough in his hand. He sucked his cheeks and spread his long legs widely, resting all his shoulders on his chair while touching his dick endlessly. He was moaning and twitching under his own touch, but all the credit was hers. Daera was driving him insane from the distance, dancing erotically in the sea and flashing her seductive body to him and just to him, letting him enjoy it however he wanted too. He wanted more than his own touch, of course, but again, at least is enough.

-Daera, Daera-. He named shakily and desirely, trembling under his hands, trembling under her shiny gaze from the sea.

She humms, sucking her lips and caressing her wet cunt with slowness. She made her hips to dance like a snake almost, sending them to one side and then to the other, moving above of two fingers of her one placed in her clit, which she showed to him too. Daera smiled tauntly, narrowing his eyes towards him.

Her lover trembled on his chair, and he mumbled her name in the middle of fast moans. His hand began to go faster on him. Aemond grunted stamping his fist on the seat's arm and then digging his nails into it. He began to thrust his cock on his own hand, doing it like a desesperate beast, turning wild because of her, who smiled breathless while touching herself as well with the magic waters of the sea. Daera sang her groans and dance to them with her hips, grabbing her breasts strongly.

Aemond threw his head back, clenching his teeth. His mind reproached him, pleading to see her again. So he returned his head front and kept staring at Daera, whose divine eyes made him moan one more time. She whispered his name. He read it on her lips. And then she pinched her own clit, now groaning his name. Then she whimpered, and then she said it with a smile. Aemond, Aemond, Aemond, she conjured him.

The One-Eyed Prince couldn't bear the sight of her touching her clit and sighing his name lustfully. He cried and tighted his teeth, feeling how red all of his face and neck were, to not mention his dick. He felt how a fire was abruptly lited on his inside. Doubtessly, he accepted his fate.

Aemond cummed with a muted and strong growl, afflicting his throat and closing his eye while feeling how his cock was letting all of his cum finally come out. That allowed him to spread it all over the dick, lubricating it, feeling it pulsing and sort of relieved. He cried Daera's name, shaking on the chair and feeling how his cock shook too under his hand, dripping his cream as it had no end.

Daera breathed fastly, stopping her touch when seeing how he was coming. She couldn't see his cock, but his face was more than enought to know it. How his brows curves, how his jaw clenches more than usual. It is as clear as water when he cums, and he just did, in her name. The princess sighed proudly, letting her skirt fall again, floating above the water, all wet.

Aemond's chest comes up and down, breathing heavily. Slowly, he opened his eye, landing it on her again. He sees how Daera smiles, breathless too, looking directly at him. Aemond smirked, bemused, tired and proudly, naming in his mind all the things he wanted to do her right now. She grined tauntly, raising her brows.

-Daera!-, a reproachful voice suddenly is heard from the distance.

The princess flinches surprised, directing her gaze instantly to an extreme of the beach, where her grandmother was arriving with an irritated and bemused gaze, walking fastly to her.

-Are you insane, girl?!-. Rhaenys reproaches.

Aemond gasps and, without even thinking it, he jumps away from his chair and throws himself on the floor, hiding from Rhaenys's eyes, who did not even glance towards there.

-Grandma!-, Daera smiles, hiding all of his nervous. She knew she hadn't see anything, for she would be lit in fire right now and drowning her in the sea. Probably.

-This is not a day to be enjoying of the sea, child!-. Rhaenys enters the water, mindlessly, and walks to her with angriness, not caring about weting her clothes.

-But- but it was just a little dive, ma!-. She instantly excuses, and soon she is grabbed from an arm and is pulled away-. Ow!-, she complains-. I'm sorry!-

-Don't you know how many men are in the castle today?!-. Rhaenys grunts with annoyance, taking her out of the beach. Daera wrinkles her lips with amusedment and shame, tsking-. A single wet dress turns them into beasts!-, she discusses.

Aemond bit his lips while blushing, lying on the floor of his rooms, still hidden.

-...I agree...-he mumbles with a sigh, feeling his cheeks and forehead burning.

■ ■ ■

Daera sighed passing her fingers on her damp mane. Behind her, Rhaenys sighed closing the door behind them. Grandmother and graddaughter entered a warm chamber, the biggest of all High Tide.

Rhaenys's.

-Look at you, for the gods sake-. The older princess tsked pointing at her dripping dress and hair.

-I think you are overreacting-. Daera scoffed, and her grandma gave her a harsh look, having her arms crossed. She gulped-...I'm sorry-, she shrugged.

-Ah, it is done already, so-. Rhaenys scoffed and did a tired sign with her hands. Her granddaughter smiled, sucking her lips-. But don't keep looking at me! Take that thing off before you soak your grandsire's favourite carpet!-, she ordered pointing at the dress and then at the floor.

-Ah, fucks!-. Daera instantly step away from the carpet, and so she started to drip on the floor.

-Ay, that mouth your father allows you to have-, Rhaenys mumbled stressfully, scratching her forehead.

Daera chuckled lowly, grabbing the ends of her skirt and beginning to pulling them up. Rhaenys narrowed her eyes, tilting her head when seeing her naked womanhood.

-Where are your undergarments, Daera, I wonder?-. She asked with fake politeness, crossing her arms over her chest.

-Uhh...-Daera blinked-, I lost them?-. She whispers doubty.

-You lost them-. Rhaenys repeated, nodding, burlesque-. But you never lose that, do you?-. She now pointed at the leather belt on her left thigh.

Daera just blinked, and smiled innocently.

Her grandma just rolled her eyes, shaking her head, and walked to the washroom, grabbing a furr towel from there, and hanging it in one of her shoulders. When she came out of the washrooms again, she saw Daera kind of struggling with her dress on her head.

-Ow, careful there, child-. Rhaenys places the towel in the bed and walks to her, grabbing the gown with delicacy.

-Help-, Daera spoke from under the fabric, laughing.

-I am trying!-, Rhaenys could not hide a laugh, smiling and pulling the dress softly, finally getting it out of her. Both of them giggled lowly, amused.

The Lady of Driftmark let the dress above some of the budoirs of the chambers, not minding that it get wet. Daera sighed picking up her hair and combing it into a quick bun, letting some strands of her white hair to fall in the middle of her view. She sees how her grandma takes the towel again, and nears to her with calm steps.

-What I told you is serious-, Rhaenys mumbled, beginning to pass the towel on Daera's wet skin, softly-. All the houses are here right now, and I don't want any of them to find you like this-. She whispered strongly, raising her brows.

-How? Enjoying the sea?-, Daera asks tauntly, facing her with a funny smile.

-Alone-. Rhaenys answered breathy, looking at her eyes with a soft worriness. The young lady understood what she meant, and so she closed her lips and started to nod briefly-. Do you understand, flower?-. She sighs, drying the drops on her skin-. Too many drunk men...-she whispered.

-I would cut any of them in a half if they dared to touch me-, Daera whispered with confidence, moving her shlulders. Rhaenys glanced at her, serious-. Yes, yes, I understand, grandma-. She sighed, nodding-. I didn't plan to be alone, its just that Baela and Rhaena had a fight and they left, fighting-. She narrates, laughing funnily.

-Ah, yes, I treated with them too on their way to your chambers-. Rhaenys scoffed with a chuckle, rolling her eyes and making her laugh amusedly-. Baela never learns to not mess with Rhaena's gowns-, she sighed, tired and funny.

-No, she never does!-. Daera laughed vividly, remembering as well former times when their sisters have fighted because similar reasons-. Oh gods, those two-. She chuckles, shaking her head.

Rhaenys smiled silently, keeping on passing the towel now over her breasts, doing it so tenderly. Motherlike. Daera smirked tinyly, feeling like a child again for a short moment, recalling how her grandma used to be the one who took care of her after a dive on the beach when her parents were busy with something else.

The older lady was having memories as well, the dearests ones of her heart. In every of them were the same faces. Laena, Laenor, Daera, Baela, Rhaena and Corlys. The faces she loves the most in the world. Nowdays, she only has with her three of them, for all the others have been taken away by The Stranger and evil people both.

Rhaenys gulped, feeling a lump in her throat while lovingly taking care of her granddaughter, who soon became aware of her heavy and sorrowful gaze.

-Grandma...-Daera whispered, worried-. What is it?-, she asks.

-Ouh, just...just losing myself in my thoughts, darling-. Rhaenys muttered softly. The answer was not enough for Daera, who tilted her head with insistment, making her to sigh. Rhaenys lowered the towel, looking directly at her young eyes-. I wish so deep, Daera, to have you all you three here, with me, everyday-. She murmured with a brittle voice.

-But, but-. Her granddaughter laughs lightly, taking her hands on hers and grabbing them tenderly-. We always visit, grandma-. She remembered with a dear shine on her gaze.

Rhaenys shakes her head from side to side, softly, curving her lips into a tired smile.

-I want you three to live here with me-. She whispered thinly, with a deep yearning touchable in her voice. Daera's factions softened, sighing and looking down-. Driftmark is where you should be-, she speaks rapidly.

-It is not, grandma, and neither where we want to live-. Daera said as softly as she could, curving her brows-. We have talked about this...-she whispered.

-We have-, Rhaenys muttered with a low tone, closing her eyes. The young princess tsks with sadness, holding one of her cheeks and caressing it tenderly.

-Dragonstone is our home-, her voice whispers with softness. Rhaenys furrowed her brows, gulping-. Father knew it would be, and that's why he didn't want to left us as your wards-. She points raising her frown-...It was the best for us-, she confessed, thinking how she and her sisters can't enter their chambers without thinking of their dead mother. And Daemon knew that.

-Daemon did what it was best for Daemon-, Rhaenys tsked, opening her anguished eyes again, remembering the time she said those very same words to her husband-. He wanted to keep you away from me, he wanted to keep Laena away from me, far in Pentos-, she murmured fastly and hurted. Daera curved her brows, inhaling deeply-. He and Rhaenyra, Daera...all that they have done to our family-, she sighs tiredly.

-Grandma, no, no, I plead you-. Daera talks with denial, shaking her head from side to side-. My mother, and my uncle Laenor, what happened to them...-, she fights so her voice doesn't tremble. Rhaenys's lips did, looking sadly at her-...Rhaenyra and my father are not guilty of it, nor capable-. She denied, confident of her words.

Rhaenys breathed through her nose, staring at her with her brows curved. She felt the tender touch of her granddaughter on her cheek, so soft and loving. She lets air out, opening her thin white lips.

-You may be capable of cutting in a half any man who dares to touch you, but I fear your mistake will be to trust him in the first place, my sweet summer child-. Rhaenys whispered tenderly and worried, giving a soft caress on her hair.

Daera chewed on her bottom lip, smiling tinyly and shaking her head briefly. She did not believe her.

-I do not make mistakes-, she whispered confident, tilting her head.

-You trust too much-. Rhaenys grunted wobbly, smirking and caressing back her cheeks. Daera snorted with a laugh, denying-...You are your mother's daughter, after all-. She sighed, almost worrylike, curving her brows.

-I am-, Daera giggled sweetly and proudly, having loved that statement.

Rhaenys sighed softening her shoulders, deciding that she didn't want to continue with the subject, not on this especial day. So, she separated from her graddaughter's touch, walking somewhere else.

Curious, Daera followed with her gaze. Meanwhile, she took the towel again and dried the remaining drops on her body. She narrows her eyes briefly, seeing how her grandma heads to the big wardrobe of the room.

-This...-Rhaenys sighed, opening its doors-...is the dress your mother wore to Laenor's wedding-, she smiled sideways, taking out a precious gown.

Daera turned speechless, frozing in her place when seeing such an alluring dress. It is golden, as her dragon. It also has black details, as House Targaryen's sigil. But what warmed her heart the most was the fact that it was her mother's. A gown of her mother. What else could she wish for?

-You desesperately need a gown, as I can see-. Rhaenys joked funnily, taking the dress out of the wardrobe and glancing at the wet one-. You will look just like her when you put it on-, she promised with softness, walking to her-. 'Tis yours-, she nodded.

-Grand-grandma...-. Rare of her, Daera stuttered, shocked by the significance of her wearing this dress. Rhaenys smiled softly at her, tilting her head to a side.

-Is Corlys's nameday, Daera-. Rhaenys recalled with a tender tone. The young princess curved her brows whith sweetness when hearing her dear grandsire being named-...He would also would want you to wear it, you know it-, she whispered with a smirk.

Daera lifted her lips with one of the dearests smiles of her life. She sighed, moved, taking the dress. She shivered when she touched it, and laughed excitedly. Daera chuckled loudly, seeing it from up to down a thousand times. Rhaenys couldn't be smiling prouder at her. And Laena would be too.

-Thank you, grandma-. She nearly sobbed, hugging the dress to herself. Rhaenys smirked, placing a tender kiss on her forehead. Daera smirked purely-. Ugh, Baela and Rhaena are going to be so jelaous, I love it-. She joked with a sigh.

-Oh!-, Rhaenys snorted funnily, looking away-. They also have their gifts, so shush!-, her grandmother said, making her to giggle-. To the washroom you go now, to take a bath!-. She clapped, pointing to the named room.

-Yes, miss!-, Daera laughed mischievous, walking towards there after placing the dress on the bed, delicately.

-I must fetch you some undergarments now-, Rhaenys mumbled-. And, Daera!-. She called.

Daera turned around instantly, raising her brows.

-Do not lose them this time-, the Lady of Driftmark pleaded, tired. Her granddaughter smiled tauntly, licking her teeth.

-I'll try!-, her voice made echoe in the washroom.

■ ■ ■

As princess Rhaenys promised, as soon as the sun went down to sleep, Corlys Velaryon's name day officially begun to be celebrated.

When the night fell, all the lords and ladies in High Tide directed to the biggest hall of the castle, which was fulled of tables, chairs, candle-filled chandeliers, food, drink, and now of people too. Full of people. The only ones still to arrive were the Lady of Driftmark herself and her six grandchildren, namely Laena's three daughters and Laenor's three sons.

During the wait, the guests are entertaining themselves with talks, and some were even eatinv already, being attended by the servants of the castle. The musicians were on their cue, but were not playing anything yet, for they were waiting for their lady to arrive so they can do so.

Rhaenyra and Daemon were seated in one of the tables, with no one else accompanying them. The Heir to the Iron Throne and her Royal Consort were silent, with their faces showing no true emotion but bitterness, staring across the room. Their eyes were placed above The Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, who pretended to not notice their intense gaze. She knows they entirely blame her for Viserys's absence. Words were not needed to became aware of such accusation.

-They are burying their eyes in you, my queen-. Ser Criston spoke sourly, staring back at Daemon and Rhaenyra.

They raised their chins lightly, not blinking, and neither intimidated by his look.

-Let them stare, Ser Criston-. Alicent said with a soft and firm voice, looking at her cup of red wine-. Assumptions are always made when a wife does the best for her husband-, she pointed, superior.

The knight clenched his jaw, nodding briefly, but still looking back at the Targaryen couple. Alicent, on the contrary, turned around and walked a few steps, giving a glance to her children, who were gathered near her, by her own orders.

Helaena was acommodated in a divan, once again. She was uncomfortable, it was obvious, for Aegon was seated in her very side by their mother's orders as well. Daeron was seated on a chair aside the divan, looking around with an interested smile, seeing all the different people in the hall. And Aemond was firmly standing behind the divan, with his arms crossed behind his back and his face not showing a single emotion but a light caution, as always.

Looking at them, Alicent sighed and sipped her wine longly.

-Princess Rhaenys Targaryen, The Lady of Driftmark!-. A strong and firm voiced raised all across the hall, turning every face of it. The Queen turns around, and The Heir did too, raising her brows. Drums started to beat softly while the guard spoke, at the same time the big gates started to be opened-. And her grandchildren, princes Jacaerys, Lucerys and Joffrey Velaryon, along princesses Daera, Baela and Rhaena Targaryen!-, the knight names with proud, and honor.

And the drums's sound raised powerfully when the named ones crossed the tall gates, entering the hall prideful. All the room filled with excited claps and loud cheers coming from every place and every person when they saw Princess Rhaenys walking firmly and smiley, being loftyly followed by all her grandchildren. At her left, Laenor's boys, and at her right, Laena's girls. Each of them were smiling, walking towards without stopping for a second, being cheered and celebrated by everybody in the hall.

Daemon's brows went up when he noticed the dress his older daughter was wearing. He knew he had seen it somewhere else, and he instantly placed. 'Twas the very same dress his first wife wore the night she coquered his heart. The Rogue Prince laughed, muted, honestly surprised. Rhaenyra lifts her head to look at him with a bright smirk, also remembering it. The princess chuckle, heartwarmed, staring at their children again.

Holding a hand of Joffrey in one of hers, Daera walked with a closed proud grin on her face, looking around with joy in her eyes, staring at every happy face of the hall, including her siblings's, which were more than brightful, excited for the cheerings and the loud music being played because of their arrival. Daera laughed with her mouth open, jumping a little and making Joffrey to do so too, smiling happily at her.

From his place, Aemond stared at her from head to toe, nearly mouth-opened. Enchanting, magnetic, luring. Those and more words came to his mind while looking at his lover endlessly, admiring her beauty, her figure, her smile, her eyes. Admiring her, for fuck's sake.

With a hidden smile, Aemond looks sideways towards Helaena, and she looks at him too, smiling hugely and raising her brows, nodding in his direction. She is proud of him for the woman he is in love with. Aemond suck his cheeks, almost smirking.

-Ouh...-Aegon sighs, bored, staring at the newcomers-...Our cousins are exquisite-, he mumbled, raising his brows.

Aemond and Helaena erased their smiles, looking sideways at him with annoyance and disgust.

-Rhaena is still a child-, the one-eyed reminded with a flat tone.

Aegon shrugged.

-Daera is enthralling-, Daeron sighed with a silly smile-. Daera and Daeron...does it not rings?-, he asked hopefull.

Aemond rolled his eye blank.

The Lady of Driftmark, along the princes and princesses, arrived to the end of the hall, turning around and facing all the people in it. They smiled looking around. And, with a giggle, Rhaenys lifted a hand. Withing five seconds, the cheerings were silenced as well as the drums and the other instruments. She sighs with her throat afflicted, crossing her hands over her blue dress's belly.

-My ladies, and my lords!-. Rhaenys speaks with joy and firmness, having every ear of the room listening at her-. Here we are, at last-. She lets air out-. Years ago, on this very day, Corlys Velaryon was born, and with him, the persuading of legady and honor-. Rhaenys says, proudly-. Many, many years ago!-, she jokes, raising laughs and giggles across the room. She laughs too, nodding.

Daera smiled funnily, blinking and directing her eyes to one certain place of the room. She looked at Aemond, whose tall and all-in-black dressed body made him to stand out. He, already with his eye on her, nodded briefly, talking with his gaze. You look beautiful. She pressed a smile, licking her lips, and looks at her grandma again.

-And, since five years ago, my dear husband has been fighting day and night in The Stepstones, deffending his...our realm-. Rhaenys spoke softly, forcing a smile, trying to not show the resentment on her heart towards her husband, who abandoned her five years ago. Jace keeps a relaxed face, though his brows curved a little, while Luke and the girls looks sadly at their grandma. The hall lamented the fact too, keeping silent-. But I am more than sure that he...-she gulps, not ending her sentence. The lords and ladies expect her words silently.

-That he will come back to us soon-. Daera finished for her, grabbing her hand and smiling towards the attendances.

-We all are sure of it!-, Luke did the same, speaking shyly, but smiling and nodding.

Daemon blinked with a soft smirk, while Rhaenyra licked her lips with a proud smile, placing a hand of hers over her chest, heart-eyeing the children.

-Yes, yes, we all are-. Rhaenys nodded with a smile, looking at both of them with love. They smiled back at her. Luke felt his chest so warm, and he giggled staring at Daera, who nodded proudly at him-. And we all thank you for each of your presence and attendance, which shall never be forgotten!-, she speaks loudly again, smirking-. Now, you shall all enjoy the food, the drinks, the music and the dances!-, she shouts raising her hands, which still helded Daera's and Luke's-. Lord Corlys would ask the same from you-, Rhaenys smiled funnily.

And again, cheering louds and screams raised in the hall and the music instantly began to be played again, now with a more danceable melody.

Helaena falls asleep again in a snap, and Aegon jumps confused. Otto sighed.

Within a second, people shouted started to dance vividly with their partners. Aemond inhales through his nose and looks around, growing bored.

-Uh, Daeron!-. Alicent gasps surprised, trying to stop her littlest child, but the young boy flees away from his family and runs excitedly to the dance floor, losing himself into all the people. His mother sighs tiredly-. Well, there he goes...-she whispers raising her cup. Criston laughs softly at her side. She rolls her eyes with a smile, sipping the wine.

Baela grabbed both hands of Rhaenys and dragged her to the dance floor. Her granddmother did not refuse, smiling widely and beginning to dance with her. They both laugh along the music, thrilled.

As Rhaena and Luke took Joffrey to fetch him some supper, Jace and Baela walked happily towards the table where their parents were seated. They smiled when seeing them approaching.

-Come here you two!-, Nyra smiled brightly, caressing her belly.

Jace giggles going to his mother. Daera, instead, walked towards Daemon with cocky steps. He laughed under his breath, raising a hand and placing it in her mane, caressing it with softness.

-You look just like your mother...-, he muttered, proudly. His eyes had a shine that only comes out when talking to his girls, Rhaenyra included. A loving shine.

-So I am told-, Daera mumbled in the middle of giggles. He chuckled as well, shaking his head briefly-. Grandma gifted to me...it's beautiful, isn't it?-. She sighed, truly heart-warmed.

-It is-, and with Daemon's voice, also spoke Rhaenyra's.

Daera smiles looking down at her, finding the soft gaze of the boys's mother. The young princess laughs funnily, kneeling on the floor and facing her big round belly.

-She always do this!-, Rhaenyra laughed and looked at Daemon, who chuckled amusedly, taking a seat too.

-Ohh, what do we see here?-. Funnily, Jace kneels too on Daera's side, and they both laughed looking at each other and then to the woman's bulged abdomen.

Rhaenyra's cheeks were lifted up entirely, laughing endlessly while she looked down at them. Daemon was chortling too, having his factions relaxed and his arms resting on the table.

-Ahh, this one is a kicker-, Daera narrows her eyes-. A wild dragon he'll be-, she assures to the mother and father.

-Aha?-, Daemon raises his brows.

-I may be hearing him-, Jace mumbles nearing his ear to the belly-. He said my name!-, he jokes.

-Fucker!-, Daera bursted out laughing for his joke, punching his shoulders. Jace didn't hold himself and laughed loudly too, resting his head on Nyra's legs.

Aemond stared silently towards there, as well as many others of the hall, seeing how the happy princes were caressing and talking to the royal belly, joking around. He hummed lowly, thinking for a second how easy her family seems to be. Lucky her, he thought.

Rhaenys and Baela were going around all the hall, dancing vividly under a ton of gazes they didn't mind. Rhaena, soon, dragged Luke to the dance floor too, and now they were dancing overjoyed, with the boy having his cheeks more red than fire.

They were all just as their grandsire, Lord Corlys, would love to see them.

Daera approached to the table of food with a curious expression, wanting to fetch herself some dinner. Interested, she grabbed a banana from the fruits section. Finding it really attractive, she peeled it while nodding. And, meanwhile, she laughed, knowing that someone was looking at her.

She catched Aemond's gaze on her, and he bumped a little on his place when she discovered him. He was near the dancing Daeron, guarding him from a corner. The one-eyed prince sucked his cheeks from inside with a low giggle, watching her from across the room. He felt his face burning lightly.

Daera licked her lips and, innocently, she placed the half of the banana in her mouth, surrounding it with her lips and sucking in it 'distractedly', looking around. Aemond bit his lips and laughed from deep his throat, drawing his gaze down and feeling how his cheeks burned even hotter, provoked by the sensual sight of her.

Alicent narrowed her brows, looking from the distance how he was laughing like a teenager a blushing like one too. That confused her highly. Mumbling a confused sound, she looked around, trying to find what made him laugh like that.

She saw Daeron dancing with a Baratheon girl. Helaena snoring, Otto fanning her. Aegon drinking from two cups of wine. Daera eating a banana in a very vulgar way. Rhaenyra laughing with Daemon. Baela dancing with an Arryn boy. Rhaenys talking with Vaemond. Luke dancing with Joffrey.

Nothing out of normal.

Alicent sighed, shaking her head confusedly.

■ ■ ■

Taglist: @loxido @jamie-in-flannel @grungegrrrl @aemondswifey @poppyflower-22 @melaneigh2 @stargaryenx

[chocoblep]

#5: The Mercenary Life

Hinan sighed as he trudged along beside the cart he was escorting. They’d started in Drybone and were bound for Mor Dhona, and though going up through Northern Thanalan was always dangerous, it wasn’t so dangerous now that the nearby Castrum had been cleared and gutted. Now the route was well-traveled, and most of the time there was little to do but watch out for the occasional wild animal and scare it off.

Today the heat was oppressive, which wasn’t unusual. Hinan, still unused to the heat, had opted to remove the leather vest he normally wore and toss it in the back of the cart, leaving him in just the undershirt he wore to prevent the thing from chafing. But even then he was sweating, squinting up at the bright sky every so often like it had personally offended him. Eventually he stripped off his shirt, too, baring his muscular red torso and dull black scales, and tossed that in the back of the cart with his vest. He should really get those buffed sometime, but he kept forgetting.

The merchant whose cart he’d been walking beside looked down when he returned to his side and smirked. “I thought you’d be used to the heat. Don’t your kind come from a place where it is hot more often than not?”

Hinan blinked, turning his luminous fire-orange eyes toward the carriage driver. Even with his lips pressed into an impassive line, he still looked murderous. “I grew up in the Doman mountains. It’s not this sweltering heat.”

The merchant blinked in return, his cheeks flaring red. “Oh, I thought you came from the Steppe. I’ve never met a Xaela from Doma, I just assumed–”

“It’s the big axe and all the scars, isn’t it?” Hinan asked, and the Midlander on the driver’s seat nodded. Hinan sighed. “I may look like an uncivilized, unkempt mess most of the time, but most of my scars came from mercenary jobs. When I was growing up, I wanted to be Sekiseigumi. You know, the peacekeepers in Kugane? Never happened of course; even if I hadn’t found out what happened behind their closed doors, they’d never have let me in. Birthright is big there.”

“Huh. Well, I’m sorry for assuming. Do you like this? What you do now, I mean?” the Midlander asked.

Hinan grinned. “I do. It lets me travel, gives me coin… and most of all, lets me chop shit up with an axe blade the size of my torso.”

The merchant suddenly laughed. “Well, at least I had your barbaric tendencies right!” he said, and Hinan shot him a look that could freeze a man’s blood. The Hyur’s hands tightened into a white-knuckled grip on the reins of the chocobo drawing the cart.

After a moment, Hinan snorted and laughed in turn. “I also like intimidating people by looking like I’m going to chop them up with an axe blade the size of my torso.”

[scrubsandsweats]

A Series of Unfortunate Autopsies:

"I'm begging you son please don't cry, shhh, shhhh, it's gonna be okay." 

Those were Hawaa's final words. 

…

"Where am I? What is this place?" Hawaa stared around an entirely white room. Cold suffocated her. There were no walls, only an infinite vacuum of white. A face of wrinkles and dry, flaky skin stared down at her. 

"So you're finally here?" Death said.

Hawaa didn't remember dying. She didn't even know she was sick. In fact, she couldn't recall anything about her life. All she remembered was that she was once a doctor. 

"You're not in Kansas anymore. Or Detroit." Death answered.

"Detroit? Seriously? Why would anyone want to live there?"  Hawaa responded. 

 Death laughed caustically and snapped its long, thin fingers. 

Hawaa's surroundings transformed. She blinked several times, and every time she opened her eyes, something new appeared. Tables. Sinks. Weighing scales. Microscopes. The dull white was replaced with melting colors. The floor blurred until it morphed into a tiled appearance. An empty observation room appeared across from her. An unusual feeling of deja vu overcame Hawaa, but she could not extract a single memory of being here. Then, finally, a body appeared on the silver autopsy table, covered in a white blanket. 

"Are you God?" Hawa asked. Of course, she knew the answer already. Everyone could recognize Death.

"'Course not. You think God is this pretty?" Death struck a pose and laughed before resuming its serious expression. "You know what to do right?" Death pointed to the body, and she nodded. It was in the part of her memory that she wasn't conscious of, like riding a bike, driving a car, or believing in God. 

 "To recover your memories and uncover the truth behind your death, you must conduct a few more autopsies." Death explained.

"Are you serious?" Hawaa put her hand on her hips. Just then, she noticed she was wearing a white coat with dark red stains on the shoulders. 

"I'm as serious as a heart attack." Death cackled at its own joke before vanishing .

Hawaa was glad to be alone. She disliked Death and its idiosyncrasies. The afterlife was much different than she had been told. There were no flames, no angels or devils, no rivers of wine, and 72 missing virgins. 

Contemplatively, she stared at the body before lifting the white blanket. For some reason it would only permit her to see the ankles. If she tried to lift the blanket any higher, the blanket became mysteriously heavy. It was clear that Hawaa would have to investigate the feet first. 

The skin of the soles were cracked like the floor of a desert. The veins around the ankles were dark and blue, with slight bruising around the ankle. There was a crack in the big toenail on the right foot and an ulcer on the left. Even with the tiniest glances, she could begin her list of differential diagnoses. Diabetic neuropathy was her primary concern, but she had to look under the microscope to be sure. Hawaa leaned in to get a skin sample and noticed faint jagged scars. The sight of it made Hawaa almost collapse in shock.

She recognized those feet. And suddenly, she unlocked a memory.

It was the summer of 1991. Hawaa was only six years old. It was a record breaking hot day, and Hawaa had to stay inside to keep cool. Her mother, Sophia, could not escape the heat, though. She had to make dinner so she diligently wiped her brow as she stood before the stove. 

Sophia was always standing as a teacher and a mother of 3. Hawaa poked at her mother's varicose veins and wondered why grown ups decided to have kids. Suddenly, a young boy knocked on the door. Hawaa pulled herself from watching TV and greeted him inside. He was one of the many students who would join Hawaa's family for dinner. 

Sophia never turned away a hungry child. And their neighborhood was never short of them. They shared a plate of macaroni and cheese, topping off their dinner with 4 cookies each.It was no surprise Sophia became a diabetic later in life.  Once they finished eating, everyone cleaned the kitchen together. Hawaa balanced several plates on top of each other, to her mother's chagrin. 

"Be careful!" Sophia said. But it was already too late. One of the children bumped into Hawaa on her way to the kitchen and glass shattered everywhere. Sophia rushed to carry the children to safety, stepping on the glass in her haste.

Hawaa bandaged her mother's bleeding feet while accepting her mothers praise. Sophia was terrified of blood. 

"A Muslim student once told me heaven is at the bottom of your Mother's feet." Sophia said. 

Hawaa blushed, pleased with herself for helping the women who raised her and so many of the neighborhood children. 

That was the moment Hawaa realized she wanted to become a doctor. 

…

Hawaa was back in the room. How long had she been lost in her memory?A breeze blew the blanket further off the body. There were no windows in the room nor any signs of air conditioning. But Hawaa knew better than to question the afterlife. She looked back at the autopsy table, but this time, the body was someone else, someone Hawaa never met before. It was a man this time, with hairy legs and a Hebrew tattoo on his shin. The white sheet was mostly gone now, but it stayed firm on his face. It was no mystery how he died—a bullet wound in the chest. Hawaa began to wipe the blood away and sprayed the body with water from the sink. Her hands shook as she began to dissect. The first question to answer: was this suicide?

She couldn't take blood and gastric samples to test for toxicology. But he didn't seem to have been under the influence. His GI tract did not have the signs of gastric mucosal injury commonly seen in alcoholics. His lungs were smooth and pink, so it was unlikely he was a smoker: no dark purple nails or signs of cyanosis and no track marks on his arms.

She examined and weighed what was left of his organs. She quickly found a bullet in the heart. Despite the obvious trauma, the rest of his body looked extremely healthy. Death reappeared and leaned over the body, as if it was judging Hawaa's work. "So…what do you think happened to him?" Death asked.

"It's unclear, but I'm thinking maybe he had asthma." Hawaa responded sarcastically. 

"Surely Rosalind Franklin taught you more than that?" Death said. 

"Who is that?" Hawaa asked, forgetting the name of her medical school university.   

Hawaa turned the body over to show Death a better view.

"It looks like he was shot from behind, so I'm ruling out suicide." Hawraa said. Hawaa had seen so many suicides in her career that it became a cliche.  

"You're finally getting there." Death glided towards the body and snapped its fingers again. For the third time, the body changed. But this time, the white sheet was completely gone. 

Hawaa stared at the face. She stared and stared and stared until the shock wore off. Then she screamed. 

…

Not many pathologists got to determine their own cause of death. 

Meanwhile, Sophia sat in the observation room, helplessly watching her daughter scream until she collapsed on the floor. It was a sight that no mother would ever want to see. Hawaa's body was on the table. Her face was barely recognizable. Her skull blown apart by bullets.

Sophia lived her life selflessly. She led by example. If someone was hungry, she would feed them. If someone was hateful, she would love them even harder. Sophia felt stupid now. How could Sophia expect to reverse the course of hatred with macaroni and cheese? Sophia instilled good values in Hawaa. But they were just hapless gestures. She inspired Hawaa to volunteer at a hospital in Gaza- a decision that would lead to her death. Sophia thought it was all her fault. If only I taught her to only care for herself, Sophia thought. She was tangled in it now; the web of pain tying a collective conscience. 

Someone tapped Sophia's shoulder. A tall plain looking man stood before her. He was wearing a t-shirt and shorts, revealing a Hebrew tattoo on his shin. 

"Hi, my name is Ben. I killed your daughter."

Sophia wanted his blood. She wished she could inflict infinite pain onto him. She tensed her fists as tight as she could. Imagining her hand around his neck, squeezing tighter and tighter and tighter. She considered swinging at him right then and there, but decided against it. She relaxed her fists. There was no use, after all the damage was done. He was already dead. And so was she. And so was her daughter. 

There was no revenge to revel in. Only regret. 

"The last thing I remember is going to a hospital and shooting everyone." Ben said with his face in his hands. Sophia didn't reply, and Ben took this as an invitation to continue to speak. "I could have refused, they would have put me in jail. But I had a choice. The truth is, I did it because I wanted to do it. Not because other people told me to do it. And it wasn't only me, but a whole army of people who agreed. Some people kill and others die. You think you are better than me. But if you were born as me, you would have done the exact same thing."

"Go fuck yourself." Was all Sophia, a retired elementary school teacher, could say. 

"Don't worry, I got my punishment. I felt everything. Earlier, when your daughter was dissecting me, I felt the pain. My organs were poked and prodded and my skin was peeled. She fondled my heart in her hands and played with the bullet parts. I suffered. I know what it feels like to scream in agony without anyone hearing a sound. Does that make you feel better?"

"No." Sophia began to cry. His pain could not cancel out hers. Pain was only additive. To her surprise, Ben began to join her. Neither of them had any idea how to stop the carnage. Nor any remaining whim to try. Eventually, out of curiosity, Sophia asked Ben a question.

"What does your tattoo mean?" Sophia asked.

"It means 'mother' in Hebrew." Ben responded. 

"Is she still alive?"

"For now." Ben said. 

…

Death returned and snapped its fingers again while Hawaa rose from the ground. Hawaa's dead body disappeared from the autopsy table. The shock had deteriorated. She remembered everything all at once. Her childhood. High school. Undergraduate school. Medical school. Residency. October 7th. 

"Would you have changed anything? Knowing that your decision to join Doctors Without Borders resulted in your demise?" Death asked.

"Of course not. I did the right thing because I wanted to. Not because other people told me to do it. I wasn’t alone. Hundreds of doctors left their homes to volunteer. That's how our mothers raised us." Hawaa shrugged. 

"Are you sure about that?" Death motioned towards the observation room. The door swung open and Sophia rushed out to embrace her daughter. Ben remained motionless. He sat completely still and watched as the two reunited. How could they be so happy? He wondered. Don't they remember all the pain I inflicted on them? 

 "So Mom, if heaven is beneath your feet, then how exactly do we get there?" Hawaa asked. 

"I'm not sure, but keep those scalpels away from me." Sophia teased.

 And even Ben laughed, despite it all. 

The End

[undercoveravenger]

To Be With You

Pairing: Cato x Male!Reader

Requested: Yes

Original Request: “Being from the Capitol after Cato wins the Games and "purchasing a night with him" - at first he thinks it's for sex but you just want someone real and honest and strong to hold you and he's confused but interested”

-----

Winning the Hunger Games hadn’t been what Cato had expected it to be. He’d anticipated the parades and the celebrations, but he hadn’t expected the behind the scenes dealings. He hadn’t expected to be sold off to the highest bidder at all those parties like some low-life harlot.

It was another such night when his handler approached him and told him that it was time to go. He sighed, squaring his shoulders to present the same confident facade he’d used in the Arena despite the crawling sensation creeping across his skin.

His handler escorted him out of the bustling party and out into the shining silver car that would take him to his purchaser’s home. At one time he had admired the Capitol’s technology, but now he understood the truth; that this was just another cage built to make a lion into something about as dangerous as a kitten.

The vehicle came to a stop outside a rather nondescript building and his handler slipped him a small slip of paper with the apartment number on it. Cato sighed, but took it and exited the car. He made his way into the building and upstairs until he was face to face with the door of his new temporary owner. He heaved a breath and steeled his nerves, before lifting his hand to knock, knowing that the sooner he got this over with, the sooner he could go home and pretend it hadn’t happened.

He never knew what to anticipate when this sort of thing happened; he’d been met with people with dyed skin and those with scales or feathers. But when the door opened, he found himself surprised.

You were not strange or grotesque the way that many people from the Capitol were. A part of his mind registered that you were handsome, but mostly he was glad that you looked… human.

You cleared your throat and stepped aside, holding the door open for Cato.

“So,” Cato said, crossing his arms over his chest as he stopped in the middle of the room. “Shall we get started?”

“That’s not why I called you here, actually,” you said, closing and locking the door before making your way further into the living room and then settling onto the couch. You hesitated for a moment as you thought, looking up at him consideringly from your seat, “I’ve seen your interviews and been at some of the parties you’ve made appearances at. I can tell that you’re unhappy.”

Cato was confused. In the months since he won the Games, no one had thought to check in with him on more than a surface level, and now some stranger could see through his mask? “What do you mean?”

You sighed softly, cocking your head to the side, “You’re not the first Victor that I’ve been around, y’know? I’m more familiar with the nightmares than I’d like to be.”

In that moment, Cato recognized you. It had been a long time and you’d been much younger then, but he was sure that you’d been the victorious tribute from the Hunger Games several years before his own. “It’s not- it’s not what I was anticipating,” he said after a long moment.

“It would’ve been easier if being a Tribute stayed in the Arena, wouldn’t it?” You said, a knowing glint in your eyes.

Cato nodded, moving to sit beside you, finally relaxing a little now that he’d found someone who understood him. “How do you cope?”

“I had someone to help me,” you smiled softly at him. “And if you’ll let me, I’d like to do the same for you.”

Cato was stunned. Through his whole life, he had always been treated like a warrior. Like, he’d been infallible and indestructible. But now, with you looking at him like that, he felt more seen than he ever had. “I think I’d like that.” He felt his chest tighten a little when your smile widened a little.

“Look,” you started, “They’re expecting you to be here for a while, so if you want to rest, my room is through there; take as long as you want.”

The blond blinked, momentarily confused. Eventually he nodded, pushing himself to his feet and heading toward the door you’d indicated. He paused in the doorframe, turning to look back over his shoulder at you. “Are you not coming?”

You looked startled, mouth falling open for a second as your gaze turned from the book you’d just picked up back to him. “Did you want me to?”

Cato hesitated, but eventually found himself nodding. “I sleep better when I’m with someone I trust.”

“You trust me?” you asked with a raised eyebrow.

He nodded slowly, a little uncertain now that his judgement had been called into question. “You’ve done more for me in a few minutes then most of my allies did in the Arena.”

“Okay,” you murmur quietly, setting your book aside and following after Cato as he leads you back into your room.

He hesitated next to your bed as you laid down, but settled down next to you after a long moment.

As time passed and you drifted off to sleep, Cato tried to will himself after you, but the sight of you this close to him has his mind reeling now more than ever. He hadn’t ever really allowed himself to consider attraction, but now, with the faint light of the moon seeping through the massive window and casting over your face, he could feel his heart thundering in his chest and a light blush rising in his cheeks. “...Why would you want to help me?” he murmured, reaching out to trail his fingertips over your jawline.

You shifted at his touch, nose scrunching in a way that he’d never admit that he found adorable and your hands reaching out toward him. His breath caught in his chest, but he slowly moved closer to you until you were able to wrap your arms around him and curl close to his chest, tucking your face against his shoulder.

He watched you sleep for a while longer until his eyes grew heavy and his breathing slowed, finally slipping into the most peaceful sleep he’d had since the Reaping. The last thought that he could recall was that he wouldn’t mind staying in the Capitol longer, as long as it meant that he’d get to be with you.

[tainted-wine]

Subject: RAPTOR

Nomu!Hawks x Reader (NSFW)

This GIANT is the lovechild of this amazing fanart and this ask:

I twisted the shizznit out of that ask, but the inspiration is still there. A thank you to anyone who makes it through this very long ride.

This fic does takes some liberties in the creation of nomu. Some factors will deviate from canon.

Words: 20k+

You can also read this long-ass story on AO3 if that’s more comfortable.

Heed these warnings: Blood and Death, Teratophilia/Monster-Fucking, Breeding, Mutant Genitalia, Unethical Experimentation, Mutilation, lots of handjobs and cum, LOTS of long tongue action and I’m ashamed, Brief Suicide Ideation, and Shitty Science

——–x——–

Fertile nomu were the greatest breakthrough that the villains could ever hope for. Breeding saves so much time and resources, as opposed to artificially creating each specimen from scratch. There were two major “programs”, as these sick bastards insist on calling them. 

The Mating Program, where the nomu were paired together, one with male sexual organs and the other with those of a female, though there was also the occasional subject that managed to possess both. It was an unpredictable process; miscarriages were common, sometimes the offspring dies minutes after birth, or the fetus develops too rapidly inside the womb and the birth becomes a violent bursting out of the parent’s body. Weaker nomu, usually the ones incapable of rapid regeneration, have been killed from such incidents. “What a waste,” those bastards in lab coats would say.

And then there was the Milking Program, in which semen was collected to later be frozen or artificially inserted into ‘other creatures’. Yeah, they say it as if ninety percent of those creatures weren’t humans.

You were an unwilling member of the latter program, but the assholes sure did love making it sound like they were doing you a favor.

“This entire precinct is yours,” they said. “Your very own farm of all-powerful beasts!”

Gee, thanks. Just what you always wanted, to jerk off abominations and collect their cum. To be fair, it could be worse. At least you weren’t one of the unlucky ones being impregnated. Your possession of a quirk, albeit a mostly useless one, probably saved you from that fate. Those without a quirk had a higher chance of passing down all of the Nomu’s abilities. Just another addition to the long list of Why Being Quirkless Fucking Sucks.

The weaker and simpler nomu aren’t an issue. A sort of imprinting drives them to obey your every command. Hell, jerking them off isn’t even needed — you can literally just order them to ejaculate, and the damn things are spewing out their putrid seed before you can even prepare your containers.

The most troublesome part of your “job” was the High Ends. They are powerful, sentient, and God help you, have an actual sex drive. They were obedient to an extent, but you can’t hold complete control over something that was specifically designed for independent thinking. You were responsible for only five of these advanced nomu, and that was too many. The touchy bastards always wanted more than just a handjob, vocalizing their lust through distorted throats. The long, beastly groans of “inside” and “give pussy” echoed in your head throughout the day and into the night.

These things can literally pound you into mush, and the very thought of carrying their horrifying children makes your throat burn with rising bile. You don’t believe it’s worth risking your life just to please their monster dicks.

That was all before they introduced you to a new ‘pet’. You stood in the hallway of your assigned area of the old hospital and watched two approaching figures. Ugh, another damn High End to make things more difficult, but this one made your heart skip a beat. 

Most of the creature’s body was a solid black, just like the rest within its tier. It was more slender than the others, upper body leaning forward with the support of long legs with joints that reminded you of a bird. Both its hands and feet were covered in scales and ended in large talons. A grand pair of ebony wings were folded behind its back, and a muscular feathered tail swayed with its movements. Overall, its appearance was a mixture of avian and reptilian.

The feathery wings were a huge hint, but absolute certainty struck you when you made eye contact, gold-filled eyes with a bird-like slant on a face that still managed to stay youthful after so many alterations to its body. You listened in on the villains’ conversations whenever they were around. With no access to any kind of media in this place, it was the only way to stay up-to-date with everything happening outside of these cursed labs. You remember hearing about their latest victory, how they managed to overpower and kill the number two hero of Japan, dreadful news that you refused to believe. But the beast that was eyeing you curiously gave you no choice but to accept the truth.

Hawks has become their newest nomu.

The doctor accompanying him smiled proudly, commanding the monster to take your side. You gulped and tried not to flinch in his presence; you were always extra tense around new additions that didn’t know you yet. “Hawks is dead,” the doctor said calmly. “Say hello to our latest work: Raptor.”

You think you’d rather stick with ‘Hawks’. The doctor doesn’t wait for a response before continuing. “We expect samples from this one daily.”

The shocking demand has you speaking before you can stop yourself. “Why?”

The man’s impassive eyes darkened and you shrink back, considering an apology but deciding that it was best to just keep your mouth shut. Prisoners like you followed a set of rules, the most important one being ‘No Questions’. They’ll feed you to the very beasts entrusted in your care without batting an eye.

Lucky for you, this man was willing to give you a pass. “Analysis, fertilization, storage for future plans…many matters that don’t concern you. Expect me every morning to take it in for testing. Until then, get it settled and collect the first sample.”

You shuddered, sneaking a glance at Hawks, who was busy looking up at the occasional flicker of the ceiling light. It was careless to underestimate how observant the High Ends were, but this is the first time you’ve seen one so openly curious. Normally they would just absently stare at nothing when left idle.

Only when the doctor turned to leave did you finally give the newcomer your full attention. “Hawks?”

He continued to watch the blinking bulbs with great interest.

“Um…Raptor?”

You nearly jumped from how quickly his entire body turned toward you, completely still and waiting for whatever instructions came next.

You scratched at your head nervously. “Right, I guess that really is your name now. Well, come with me.”

He followed you down the old hall and past the rooms where others of his kind rested, talons tapping against the tiles with each step.

 x---x---x---x---x 

Raptor’s exposed frontal lobe throbs.

He doesn’t remember anything before his awakening in that cold and wet chamber. Was there anything before? Had he just been born?

Perhaps…but it just didn’t feel right.

x---x---x---x---x

  Like all the other nomu, Hawks’s private space was nothing more than an emptied patient room. Their loyalty was the only thing keeping them from breaking down the old doors or tearing through the worn walls. Every minute spent alone with these superhumans was a gamble with your life.

But again, the newcomers make you extra nervous.

You stood at the door while Hawks examined his new home. He sniffed and pawed at every nook and cranny like an animal in unfamiliar surroundings, straightening his flexible spine to touch the ceiling before lowering himself on all fours. He seemed just as comfortable crawling as he was with walking; you can only imagine how incredible his agility has become. The beloved wing hero was best known for his swiftness in defeating and subduing villains, and it looks like the mad scientists sought to maximize his talents. The average nomu was built to be an indestructible powerhouse. Hawks was built to be an even more efficient predator than he already was.

As much as you didn’t want to interrupt him, you had a job to do. “Raptor…”

His head whipped around to pin you with a sharp stare, molten yellow slits revealing the red irises that only appear when focused. You tensed, but he made no further movements.

You cleared your throat and took a deep breath. Nomu respond best to a confident and assertive voice. “Just relax and stay still. It’s time for me to collect some sperm, if you even know what that means.” You grab the jar that you had already prepared in the corner.

He shook his wings and soft mane of hair, leaving his head a poofy mess. Well that was…cute. You approached him before setting the container back down and reaching for the pathetic rags they called shorts. It’s beyond ridiculous how these sadistic doctors are willing to completely violate and alter a person’s corpse, yet they force the abominations to keep their junk covered as some form of decency.

A low rumble vibrated from his chest as you dropped to your knees and pulled down his only article of clothing, allowing the not quite human-looking cock to spring free — a thick base with a curved shaft decorated with scale-like ridges on the top and bottom, then tapering to an arrow-like head, twitching and growing each second. You’ve seen stranger dicks, but it still catches you by surprise. Was Hawks’s dick always like this?

Is that a distasteful question? He is technically dead.

The moment your hand made contact, a loud hiss rushed past his teeth and he stepped back, wings flapping as he backed away until he hit the wall.

“Calm down.” His reaction startled you, but your voice remained steady. He wasn’t showing any signs of aggression, his widened eyes and timid posture gave the impression that he was just caught off-guard. “Calm,” you repeated more softly.

A few seconds pass while his breaths slow and he stands straight again to give you access to his fully hardened cock.

You try to move more slowly, at first running just your fingertips along his length to ease him into the feeling. You smiled at the sight of his face relaxing; he was surprisingly expressive. “See? It’s not so bad, is it?”

His mouth opened to give you a glimpse of sharp teeth that could easily shred your flesh, but the only sounds that come out are several choked peeps. He winces and brings a clawed hand to his throat.

“Can’t talk yet, huh? Don’t worry, it usually takes a few days for you guys.” You closed your fingers around his shaft in a firm grip and began to stroke him.

The soft purrs must mean that he has fully given in. He thankfully hasn’t made any grabs at you yet; only staring down and watching you explore every inch of his pitch-black meat, taking his leaking pre-cum and smearing it all over for lubrication.

His wings shiver and his tail begins to swing wildly—you flinch at each loud thud whenever the powerful limb whacks the wall or slams into the floor. You briefly wonder if the feathers on his tail are capable of becoming sharp blades like the ones on his wings.

The purrs become low growls as he begins to bend over your kneeling form, muscular thighs quivering around you. His cock was twitching under your quickening pace, notifying you that it was time to grab the jar and get ready. “No need to hold back. Go ahead and cum.”

He obeyed with a high screech and two sets of talons seized your shoulders, tearing through cloth and digging into your skin. You yelped, but didn’t halt your milking of his cock, ensuring each spurt of cum landed inside the container. Blood can be felt trickling down your arms, his grip on the verge of crushing bone until he finally lets go after his final spasm. You release the breath you didn’t even know you were holding as you sealed the jar and stood up. “Good, now rest,” you said through clenched teeth and turned to leave.

A distorted chirp is heard behind you; you twisted your head to see Hawks rushing forward, and your heart jumps into your throat. Fuck, what did you do? Did turning your back excite him? Running wasn’t a smart option at this point. You held the fresh warm sample close to you as you shut your eyes and braced for whatever the nomu had planned.

But when he was close enough for you to feel his hot breath against your back, nothing happened. Then there were fingers, the same fingers that pierced your flesh with their hooked claws, lightly tracing over the bleeding wounds. It was a touch that was way too gentle for a monster created to kill.

You heard the choked sounds again, and you take a look at his face as he strains to form a word, eventually giving up and mouthing it instead. What you read from his lips was something that hasn’t been said to you during your entire time in this hellish hospital.

‘Sorry.’

He retreats to a corner and curls up his entire body like an animal sleeping in the cold.

You felt like the one unable to speak now, mouth opening and closing in search of a response. Eventually you were able to collect yourself. “It’s alright…I guess. Not the first time one of you has handled me roughly. First time one of you showed any regret, though…it’s honestly really freaking me out.” You giggle uncomfortably and decide that you need to hurry up and treat yourself before the scratches get infected. “Rest,” you make sure to command before rushing out of the door.

The restroom held a shabby but functional shower that will rid you of the blood, and the workers were at least generous enough to give you the bare minimum of first-aid along with extra gowns. A couple excruciating dabs of alcohol on the open wounds should clean them up just fine.

You’ll have to think about Hawks’s odd behavior later. You still had other nomu to tend to.

 x---x---x---x---x

Subject: Raptor

Field Test

Quirk #1: Fierce Wings

Notes: As the host’s original quirk, we don’t expect Raptor to experience any difficulties with Fierce Wings. It should serve more as a refresher for his memory. With a brain more advanced than any other nomu so far, he should still be quick in attacking and reacting. His slightly enlarged wings will allow for greater endurance during flight, and of course, a bigger arsenal of feathers. The feathers on his tail are also to be tested.

The room that Raptor stood in the center of was filled with targets everywhere—some static, some moving in fixed patterns. The humans in coats were a safe distance away and watching him closely.

“Raptor, strike the targets with your feathers.”

He didn’t even have a chance to see which one gave the order before his body was already reacting. It took only seconds for him to pin the locations and time the movements of each target. In a flash, black sharpened feathers darted in multiple directions and pierced every mark in the room.

He didn’t care about impressing the Coats, but he still released a pleased hum after hearing his entire audience gasp. The whole situation felt familiar for some reason. Completing such a test felt so natural to him, he could probably do it blindfolded.

“Again, but this time use only the feathers from your tail.”

He obeyed. With his body lowered and tail raised, it only took two seconds longer to hit each mark.

Several more tests took place. He chopped objects of different materials and varying thickness, sliced apart a combat robot while using only his tail as a blade, and showed off his speed and aerial maneuvers during a small obstacle course.

His brain pulsed painfully. He doesn’t understand why taking so many commands was such a painful struggle.

He didn’t mind the tests much. At least he can actually do something in these test fields, as opposed to sitting in his empty room all day. After the very pleasant time spent with you, it was nothing but hours of pacing, scratching, and grooming out of boredom.

You mentioned there being others like him in those rooms. How do they handle having absolutely nothing to do for so long?

“Its mind tends to wander, doesn’t it?”

He turns to the source of the voice and finds a pair of Coats that stared at him like they were trying to probe his mind with just their eyes. The rest were scrambling about, discussing the excellence of his performance and scribbling notes.

But these two only seemed interested in watching him get lost in his thoughts. He stared back, waiting to see if they had any commands to give.

One of them only smirked as the loyal creature stood at full attention. “Yes, not very hostile, either. Not only is he capable of higher levels of thinking, he is the first High End that doesn’t host the body of some brutish villain. A more complex mind often comes with very human...quirks.”

Raptor blinks. They really enjoyed saying that particular word.

x---x---x---x---x

When you stepped into Hawks’s room for the second morning, you were ready to step right back out when you saw the state of it.

Claw marks everywhere, covering the walls and floor like webs embedded in the surface. Hawks was looking at you closely while stooped low to the floor, but his body appeared relaxed and not ready to lunge.

Not a single hair on you moved when you spoke. “Are you alright?”

He tilted his head at the question, releasing a puff of air through his nostrils before returning to whatever he was trying to do to the floor. He wasn’t violent with his movements. The talons scraped across wide curves, long lines, other patterns with seemingly no goal in mind. Looking around at the other claw marks, you realize that none of them are the angry slashes of a beast throwing a fit. They all looked to have been drawn in a calm matter, twisting and turning into random non-specific shapes.

“Raptor, are you…bored?”

He paused his carving to look at you again and releases a long and drawn-out groan, throat vibrating along with the vocals. Was that a whine?

All of the High Ends had traces of their original personality, but this was on another level. It wasn’t unwelcomed, however. “You know, when the other High Ends don’t have anything to do, they kinda just…I don’t know, it’s like they put their brains on a power-saver mode. You can’t do that?”

His brain responds with several strong pulses. Gross, you’re never going to get used to that pink-gray matter moving around. After what was apparently deep thought, Hawks gave a softer groan and shook his head.

You couldn’t help but laugh humorlessly at this entire situation. “Incredible. You’d think that these smartasses would know that making a creature of extraordinary intelligence—I bet that’s what they said—would mean that your big gross brain needs regular stimulation. Geniuses, my ass.”

Hawks gave a beastly snort. Seems like he agrees with you. You don’t mean to sound like those insane bastards, but it truly was incredible to see a High End that showed interest in casual conversation, not just commands or any opportunity to cause destruction.

Feeling confident that he won’t maul you out of boredom, you finally approach and kneel in front of him. “Sorry, there’s not much I can do about that,” you said with genuine sympathy. “Not like I have any entertainment of my own. My room sucks too. But—“ You held up your fresh new jar. “Maybe we can kill some time together again? God, that makes me sound like a sex worker for you guys.”

You don’t know if he has a sense of humor, but he clearly understands your hints and perks up. He stands so that your face is leveled with his groin, black scaly hands tugging at his shorts until a loud rip causes him to grunt in frustration. You giggle and decide to help tear the rest off. “They were just shitty rags, anyway,” you said.

He was already growing right in front of you. Your hand wraps around him for a second time, thankful that it doesn’t startle him again. He tenses for only a moment, but quickly relaxes when your stroking begins, a large pair of testes swinging freely now that there was no cloth to contain them.

“Wow,” you couldn’t help but gasp. “You’re not even built as big as the other nomu, but those are still impressive. I guess you’ve got plenty of samples to give, huh? Good, ‘cause I’ve gotta do this every damn day.”

You received a purr and a swish of his tail in response. It was a one-sided conversation, but it was still pretty refreshing. Milking the other High Ends was an uncomfortable task, one where you always had to be prepared with a loud and strong “No” or “Stop” whenever their excitement evolved into aggression. Every minute was tense, and despite your occasional wish for release from this shitty life, you didn’t want a violent end at the hands of these sex-hungry monstrosities.

His reactions weren’t too different from yesterday; he was being more vocal and less shy about physically expressing his pleasure. The massive black wings blew your hair back with each powerful beat, and his tail was thrashing about even more wildly.

His deep purrs weren’t unpleasant, slowly changing into higher mewls as he got closer. “Come on, just do what you did last time.”

And so he did, delivering another fresh sample straight into your container with a warped cry. His hands lingered right over you, clenched in tight fists that surely had those sharp talons digging into his rough palms. You couldn’t be sure, but it looked as if he was trying not to grab you this time. Would he really care about that without being told?

Hot, tired breaths blew into your hair as he recovered from his climax. Then, with his head reared back, he let out a yawn. You even heard a faint little whine similar to a dog escape him. It would have been pretty endearing if it weren’t for just how widely his mouth was opened, displaying the scary set of teeth within. Does he really use those in combat?

With his still-dripping member going flaccid, he returned to the spot he was scratching at, lazily tracing the markings that were already made. The thought of him doing this for another ten hours or so made you frown. They probably wouldn’t care if you stayed in this room a little longer than usual, would they?

Shrugging, you kneeled down again, this time resting beside him. Hawks stopped and looked at you curiously.

“Sharpen one of your feathers and give it to me,” you ordered.

Almost immediately a feather appears right in front of you. You grab it, taking care not to cut your fingers on the razor-like barbs. When’s the last time you’ve held a writing utensil? Shifting awkwardly next to the large nomu, you took the quill and began scratching lines into the floor. The hot heavy breaths and overall warmth from his close presence was hard to ignore. You’ve never been this close to a nomu for any reason that wasn’t jerking them off. He remained calm, watching your hand closely until you finished drawing a small grid.

“You know how to play tic tac toe?”

He blinked.

“…Okay, it’s pretty simple. You fill a space with either an ‘O’ or an ‘X’…”

Somehow, teaching a killer monster how to play a common children’s game was weirder than making him jizz. He caught on quickly, favoring X’s. You were winning each game at first, but once he figured out all of the possible patterns, every game was ending in a draw. You drew larger grids, sometimes having both of you move to a different spot for more room. Most matches were still draws, but he will sometimes catch you by surprise and scratch a row of three X’s that you didn’t notice in time, his tail swishing out of what may have been pride or enjoyment.

After a while you decided to show him other shapes. Maybe he can experiment with them more when you were gone. Who knows, soon he might be drawing more than random lines. He wasn’t bad company, to be honest. Then again, your standards have taken a nosedive ever since you winded up in this facility of unethical science. It was nice to spend time with anything that didn’t want to just tear you in half with a massive cock.

Only when you felt like you overstayed your welcome and stood back up did you realize how much of a mess you both made of the floor and walls.

“Oops, it looks like a bunch of kids got in here,” you said while looking at the collage of shapes and lines. Hopefully the doctors won’t find this too strange; he was pretty intelligent, after all. “Well, it’s about time I take my leave. You keep practicing your doodling skills, I guess.” With the jar of white fluid back in your arms, you headed on out, but a large hand grabs onto your arm.

Hawks’s yellow eyes were wider than usual, a scraping, guttural noise leaving his throat as he toyed with his voice.

“Sss…..aaayy…” Just like the other High Ends, his vocals were warped and all-around unsettling, but you could hear it, traces of the playful and smooth-talking hero that you used to watch during interviews and talk shows. It was barely there, but it was still there.

“St…aay.”

You couldn’t help the sad smile that graced your face. He was looking at you like a puppy. “Sorry, but I don’t know what they’d do if they notice me staying here for too long,” you explained.

He winced from the strain of his vocal chords. “Come…back?”

You shook your head. “There are cameras in the halls. I shouldn’t be going in and out of your room.” You tensed under his grip, afraid that refusing him like this will anger him. He has been very docile so far, but you don’t know what it takes to set him off.

Thankfully, he lets go of you and backs away with another one of those whines. For God’s sake, were you really feeling bad about leaving one of these...things?

To be fair, in the two days you’ve known him, Hawks was already much different from the others. Hell, he hasn’t even shown any true signs of aggression yet. The other High Ends are always expressing some desire to attack or break something. You thought it came naturally with all of the engineering. For something that was apparently supposed to be their finest specimen yet, Hawks’s behavior wasn’t fitting for his job at all. You just played tic tac fucking toe with him like two kids on a sidewalk.

That’s probably why you found yourself trying to reassure him. “We can play some more tomorrow. Don’t worry.”

An odd clicking noise was made—he sure had a variety of sounds reminiscent of birds—and he returned to his favorite corner, hooking his talons into an empty spot on the wall to begin yet another drawing.

The slightest hint of warmth could be felt in your chest as you left him to his creative tasks. This place sucks and has deprived you of everything good in life for…you’ve lost track of how long. You’ll take whatever you can get to make things more bearable around here.

And if that ‘whatever’ turns out to be a former top hero who was killed and resurrected into a horrid experiment, then so be it.

x---x---x---x---x

Subject: Raptor

Field Test

Quirk #2: Reptile

Notes: The Reptile quirk will make for a great upgrade to Raptor’s physical capabilities. He may possess wings, but the ability to climb almost any surface will be helpful in enclosed areas and improve his overall performances in stealth. A flexible spine allows him to comfortably be both bipedal and quadrupedal, the digitigrade legs granting him greater speed and jumps.

Also, someone needs to send in a request for a new pair of shorts for the damned thing.

There were many more instructions to follow this time. The Coats were bombarding him with one command after another.

“Climb up here.”

“Slash this with your talons.”

“Crush this with your hands. Try again with your feet.”

His head throbbed painfully as the voices took hold of his movements. They pushed his endurance to the limit when they made him run on a machine, first on his legs, then again on all fours. He was only running in place, but it was much more satisfying than pacing back and forth in that boring room.

It turns out that he can scale walls and ceilings with little effort thanks to the pads on his hands and feet. Maybe he can try drawing on the ceiling when he returns to his room. The only downside was that you wouldn’t be able to sit up there with him.

The Coats observed behind the (assumed) safety of a wall of thick glass. Each one possessed a small microphone so that their voice can still be heard clearly through the speaker on his side of the room.

They always watched him with cold and calculating eyes, and only spoke to him when telling him to do something. You feared him; his feathers easily sensed your tension, unsteady breaths, and quickening heartbeats, yet you still took the time to be friendly. And what you do with those hands…he wishes you’d make him feel that good all day. Yes, his room was small and boring, but it did have you.

“Raptor, to the opposite end of the room,” a Coat ordered. The sensation of being pulled by his entire head forced him to take his place at the wall, staring straight ahead at the door.

His wings twitched from a powerful approaching presence, feathers instinctively sharpening at the possible incoming threat. The door was opened by a small Coat to make way for a beast, a beast with a large powerful form and exposed brain just like him.

Vacant eyes stared straight ahead, looking right through him like it was dead on its feet.

“This is one of Cloner’s spawn, yes?” A female Coat spoke with her mouth close to the mic. He supposes that they don’t care if he hears them.

“Yes. His offspring always turn out even more unstable than him. This one can’t even produce a single proper clone, and no additional quirks were inherited. It’s useless.”

“Well, at least it’ll help us in its final moments.” The man leaned into his mic. “Raptor, kill the nomu. Do not use your wings.”

The woman followed up with her own order. “Nomu, kill Raptor.”

Blood was suddenly rushing through his body twice as fast, the reds of his eyes appearing and locking onto the target that was already charging at him with a horrifying wail.

Kill it.

He ducked under the bigger creature’s closing arms that would have likely trapped him into a crushing hug, causing his opponent to lose balance and fall forward. His hand shot up and dug his talons into thick flesh, slicing it from its chest all the way down to its stomach as he ran beneath. Rising from under the nomu’s legs, he turned to see his gruesome work.

Instead, he sees the blur of a fist right before it smashes into his face and sends him flying. His back colliding hard with the wall accompanied the shattering of his jaw. There was no time to wait for his vision to clear up, scrambling out of the path of the charging silhouette before it slams into the now-empty spot, the impact shaking the entire room.

The pain only intensified when his face and spine began to shift, mending itself back together while he tried his hardest to keep his eye on the much more violent beast. A ghoulish moan was heard as it straightened itself, and Raptor could see the large gash that should have easily disemboweled it already closing up.

Ah, so they can both heal.

It was already charging straight at him again. The thing was fast and powerful, but it was acting like it had a one-track mind, sticking to a simple strategy of running towards him and dealing whatever damage it could.

His wings twitched, but there was a barrier in his mind preventing them from moving. Damned Coats.

The fight became a game of evasion, darting and dashing around the bigger and stronger nomu’s swings and countering with deep slashes. Wearing it down was impossible with such rapid healing, every cut he brought upon its skin was quickly sewn shut.

His only chance was to attack its brain, but the nomu had enough sense to protect its one true vulnerable spot, nearly crushing Raptor’s arm into paste after an attempt to sink his talons into the soft matter.

So he kept dodging, and dodging, until something inside the creature just...snapped. Perhaps it was out of frustration in failing to land any hits, but its haunting moans and wails soon became full on screams. Tightly clenched fists pounded into the floor, the stone floor crumbling under the sudden tantrum. Raptor stood and watched, wings tensing from the burst of tortured emotions.

“Hm, you weren’t exaggerating about the meltdowns,” he heard one of the Coats say, her voice as dull as ever.

“What an embarrassment. Damn thing can’t even carry out a simple fight.”

Raptor looked behind the glass of spectators and saw faces of disappointment.

“A complete waste.”

“Cloner’s children are all wasted potential.”

“What a sad display.”

“Pathetic.”

He looked back at the creature that was now writhing and flailing, its skin oozing a blob that throbbed and squirmed, like it was trying its hardest to take a shape. 

But the bubbly pulses stop and the dripping mass melts into a lifeless puddle. The nomu continues to scream after its failed attempt at using its quirk. Raptor’s gut twists with pity.

A sad display, indeed.

“Raptor! Did you forget your orders? Kill him!” 

The sharp command smothers all feelings of sympathy, and before Raptor knew it, he was running toward the tormented creature, each feather on his tail sharpening with every step. Ducking under a blind swipe, the black spear thrusted forward and pierced its brain with a sickening shlunk.

The thrashing was reduced to short spasms as the nomu choked out its final groans, its terrified eyes glazing over when the last traces of life faded. 

The tail was yanked out and shook off the blood and spongy brain matter to splatter on the ground. Raptor gave a soft whine of distress.

“Well, that was all rather underwhelming.”

“Yep, that didn’t exactly challenge Raptor at all.”

“I’m concerned about his lack of aggression. Did you all see him hesitate?”

“Most likely just confusion and caution after witnessing such a sudden breakdown.”

So many voices, so many comments; Raptor paid no attention to them. His mind was on the corpse that continued to bleed heavily from the large gash in its head. Raptor was the stronger nomu. He won.

Was he supposed to feel proud? Victorious?

“He’s a very smart one. Did you see the markings in his room? He and his harvester have been...bonding.” That voice...Raptor recognized it as the Coat that showed up every morning to retrieve him from his room to enter these test rooms. “I can’t decide if I like the idea of a friendly nomu.”

The woman dismissed his worries. “As long as he knows to kill when he’s told, his behavior shouldn’t matter. But it might benefit us to test his relationship with his owner after we’ve finished observing his quirks.”

His throat vibrates as a low growl passes through.

Raptor doesn’t like it here.

x---x---x---x---x

Maybe it’s just because Friday (you’re pretty sure it’s Friday on your self-made calendar) tends to be your busiest day of the week, or that your wrist is beginning to wear down from the many giant dicks you’ve been stroking. Or maybe it’s just one of those days when you remember just how shitty this life was. Whatever it was, you weren’t in one of your best moods today. 

That’s why you felt just the smallest hint of excitement when you reached Hawks’s door. Yes, it’s weird, but he was the closest thing you had to a companion around here, alright? 

The last thing you expected was to open the door to an empty room, at least it appeared that way until you saw the black creature resting on the ceiling.

“Aah!” You yelp and drop the jar out of fright, causing Hawks to jump from the sudden noise. You curse and quickly pick up the container and scan it for any cracks while he gracefully twists his body to drop on the floor with a thud. He was as graceful as a cat...a cat that can comfortably sit upside down.

Relieved to see the jar in one piece, you turned your attention back to the waiting High End. “I didn’t know you could climb like that.”

His wings fluttered at the comment and he raised his palms right in front of your face. Ah yes, a hand. Very lovely. But looking more closely, you could see a difference in texture on the rounded pads of his fingertips. “Ooh, little sticky hairs, huh?”

He gave a click of what you assumed to be approval, tail swinging behind him.

“So I guess you’re not just born knowing everything your body can do. Sounds troublesome.” There’s something you wanted to do, something you wouldn’t ever consider doing with the other nomu even in your dreams. “May I, uh, touch them?” You held up your own hands innocently.

Hawks cocked his head, a gesture that you’re always going to find kinda cute, before grunting and bringing his larger hands to yours. All ten of your fingers made contact, and the slightest shiver shot down your spine. 

It’s the first time you’ve ever touched one of these monsters outside of jerking them to collect semen. Your curiosity was always there, but the disgust and fear you often felt when in their presence fueled the overpowering desire to hurry up, get the damn job done, and get away from them as quickly as possible.

You never imagined that you’d be standing face to face with a High End, feeling the surprisingly soft pads on his scaly hands, his breaths deep and hot against your face as those red irises watched your expressions. He was still very intimidating with his tall form, glowing glare, and the large imposing pair of wings. But those eyes—they contained too much intelligence and emotion in them.

Too human. It was as uncanny as it was fascinating. 

Only when his eyes close and he begins to croon softly do you realize that one of your hands have moved up to touch his face. The black skin feels extra thick when you gently press his cheek, strong and leathery. He leans in and brings his head closer to give you better access, and you can’t help but reward the reaction with scratches against his jaw and chin.

“You know, you’ve been doing a shitty job of acting like the ultimate killer,” you said when he purrs happily. 

The purr morphs into a disgruntled whine. “Don’t...like.”

Your hand pauses, hoping for him to elaborate as well as he could. “Don’t like…?” You encouraged him.

He was still struggling to work his vocal chords, but at least he seemed to be showing less pain. “Don’t like...k-killiiing.”

What?

“Raptor, that’s...you know...the very thing you were made for, and you don’t like doing it?” Not that you’re complaining about his gentle nature, but hearing a damn nomu say that he dislikes killing might be the most ludicrous thing you’ve heard here, even more so than the first time you were told to make an abomination cum.

His entire body stiffens, and you couldn’t help but tense up as well. “Maaade-” He makes a harsh hacking sound. “-to kill?”

Shit. You panic and attempt to backpedal. “Not to actually kill. You’re supposed to be, you know, the strongest creature that’s capable of killing whenever he wants...if you, uh, wanted to.” Yeah, that sounds good enough.

It appears to do the trick, his body relaxing again. “Don’t like,” he repeated more smoothly this time.

“I know, I know. Killing sucks. Just don’t tell the assholes in labcoats that, alright? Now calm down.” You return to your ministrations, this time using both hands to rub and scratch his face. His eyes drift shut again as your hands trail down to his slightly elongated neck, brushing past his steady pulse.

Reaching his collar and then his chest, you discover that he’s solid muscle everywhere. He may not be on the verge of bursting out of his own skin like the others, but he could no doubt snap you like a twig just as easily. You feel his chest heave from a deep breath, the strength emanating from his body making you shiver. You shush him when he jolts as your hands reach his pronounced abs, pushing against the hard muscle until you finally arrive at his groin.

You snorted at the new pair of shorts. “Another pair, huh? At least these look a little less ragged.”

You pulled his large member out for the third time. Why did you have to do this daily? What could they possibly be doing with so many jars of jizz? Making cakes?

Sighing, you brushed off the soreness of your arm and wrist and began to pump his ridged length. “Just do me a favor and try to cum quickly, alright?” 

He made a rather sad groan at that, curling into himself so that his face was close to yours. His sharp breaths were loud in your ears.

You couldn’t help but smile even through the strain of your muscles. “What, you wanna make this last? Do you know how many dicks I’ve had to tend to today? Cut me some slack, we’re gonna be doing this everyday, anyway.”

Hawks purrs before that monstrous voice shakes your body, his hot breath warming the side of your face and neck. “Feel gooood.”

The primal lust dripping from him triggers a pulse of warmth inside you. You...can’t remember the last time you’ve felt that, and it’s just a tad strange that a nomu caused it. Were you really that starved for attention? “I-” You cleared your throat after an awkward voice crack. “I know, handjobs tend to feel good. But please be a good boy and help me out here.”

He gives a puff that blows your hair back, but he complies. The big sweaty face that buries itself in your neck is so distracting that you almost forget to get your jar ready and fill it with the incoming spurts of semen. There, the final sample of the day has been collected. Now, if you could just push the panting fiend off of you before he starts drooling on your shoulder.

Something warm and slimy touches your neck. It has you pulling back so quickly that you almost fall and spill the vile essence all over you before the jar could be properly sealed.

Hawks shrinks back and quickly withdraws the indigo tongue into his mouth, looking down in what appears to be shame. You touch the licked spot, the thick saliva coating your fingers. 

“Sss-sorrry.” Regret can be heard clearly in his droning voice.

“No, it’s...it’s okay,” you stammer. The sensation lingers, and then ignites a spark somewhere inside you.

A sick, disgusting, and absolutely fucked up spark. The next thing you say should horrify you, but instead you feel nothing but a twisted form of anticipation. “You can...um...do that again, if you want.”

His tail slapped the floor in excitement before he slowly closed the distance again, cautiously looking into your eyes before his tongue slithers out and caresses the same wet space.

The smooth muscle is hot against you, extending to inhuman lengths to explore your neck. The slick sounds as it slid across your skin should have grossed you out—all of this should be grossing you out, so you don’t understand why you tilt your head back to give him more room. He licks up and down your throat slowly to savor your taste, breathing heavily and releasing a stale stench from his open maw. You imagined the breath of a previously dead man to smell a hundred times worse, frankly. 

With your neck completely drenched in his cooling slobber, he ventures upward, purring louder than ever as he tastes the flesh of your jaw. The tapered end of his tongue begins to curiously flick at your earlobe before circling around the shell of your ear. He seems to take a liking to the flabby cartilage and laps at it playfully while giving the occasional nip and suck and god, it’s all heard so fucking clearly, every schlick and smack traveling right through your canal and setting off questionable reactions all over you. Your hands are clenched and held against your chest, but you don’t tell him to stop.

‘What the hell is wrong with me?’

The licking moves to your cheek, lapping at it shortly before moving to your pursed lips.

‘This is fucked up beyond words.’

You flinch when the clammy tongue brushes over your lips, at first smoothing over them lightly, possibly testing to see how you’d react. His face is so close, your noses almost touching. To allow a nomu this close to you, touching you like this…

When you make no move of resistance, he gets braver and laps at your mouth with controlled eagerness. Your eyes close to hide from the otherworldly gaze, but your lips feel even more sensitive to the weight that continues flicking and pressing at them, covering them in hot saliva. Several times does it briefly part your lips and graze your teeth, making you swallow at the thought of…

‘Don’t do that.’

Hawks pauses when you open up for him, but gives a gleeful chirp and snakes his way into your inviting mouth.

‘I’m really letting him do this.’

Clawed hands grab your arms a little too tightly and hold you in place. It hurts, yet all you can focus on is the flexible muscle exploring your mouth. It rubbed against the roof, pushed at the inside of your cheeks, and eventually stroked and curled around your own tongue.

‘You’re sick.’

But you’ve been sick ever since you got here, haven’t you?

When his grip loosens, you take the opportunity to place your hands around his head, digging your fingers into his...hair? Plumage? Was his hair always this feather-like?

A high-pitched sound of surprise leaves him when you try to pull him in closer. He quickly complies, closing the distance until his lips and mouth are covering yours.

It completely smothers your senses. You see his black wings expand to slowly encase both of you. You hear the wet friction of his tongue and the hungry growls that roll from his throat. You smell sweat and blood, briefly wondering just what exactly was he made to do during those ‘tests’. You taste the thick and flavorless saliva that makes you gag at first, but becomes easier to swallow as you take in more. And most of all, you feel him slowly moving in and out of your wide open mouth, the thrusting motion forcing your thighs to rub together in response to the growing heat threatening to consume you.

You snap out of it before that can happen.

Hawks pulls away when he hears your choked sounds of protest, your hands suddenly on his chest and pushing. Fresh oxygen rushes back into your lungs when his tongue leaves your mouth and retreats back into his. The warmth between your legs doesn’t fade away. Everything that just happened, everything you just allowed this monster to do fully sinks in.

And you fucking enjoyed it.

You back away from him as quickly as you can, ignoring his confused groans. A wave of nausea sweeps over you like a powerful gust that churns your stomach.

“Rest. I need to go.” It was all you said before you picked up the forgotten jar and fled the room, refusing to falter from the sorrowful whines behind you.

The urge to spew the little food you’ve been fed throughout the day all over the hallway floor is strong, but you manage to hold out until you reach the toilet in your room, quickly kneeling and hurling. It wasn’t much, but it still left you teary-eyed and with a burning throat.

What did you do? Just what the hell did you do that warranted getting kidnapped, having your nice comfortable life stolen from you, and the only way to cope was by making out with a horrid creature? You jolt from a painful mix of a sob and a hiccup. It’s been weeks since your last breakdown, but this new discovery was another hard blow to your sanity and pride. You let the tears flow as you flushed away your mess, moving over to your bed and collapsing onto the thin mattress. Fuck this facility. Fuck the scum that created all of this.

And fuck the throbbing wetness between your legs that still won’t go away.

Your sobs transform into humorless laughs. You’re going to have to get rid of the throbbing yourself, aren’t you? They won’t arrive to collect all of your samples for about another thirty minutes, so that should be enough time...

You pulled down the thin blue pants and rubbed your fingers over the slick that had gathered from what had transpired in Hawks’s room. It’s true, you’ve been doing nothing but sick shit since you’ve been tossed into this new life. Why do you even still hold on to feelings like shame and disgust? What good will they do you here?

So you try to drown out the voice of your conscience as you laid back, succumbing to the wonderfully twisted thoughts of a nomu’s tongue.

x---x---x---x---x

Subject: Raptor

Examination

Quirk #3: Regeneration

Quirk#4: Heat Resistance

Notes: Our most advanced specimens deserve the best healing quirks we have to offer. Raptor is no exception. It will also make up for his lack of weight and hard muscle, not that he should ever be mistaken as frail. Most importantly, this should accelerate the regrowth of his feathers and supply him with an endless arsenal. We do not want to risk his regeneration being hindered by burns. After all, it was fire that led to the host’s death. This is why we have added a quirk that should make it almost completely fireproof.

The only people that Raptor disliked more than the Coats, were the Masks. The Coats saw him as nothing more than an attack dog that is expected to obey every command. But the humans in masks...to them, he was just a fleshy object to be dissected and analyzed.

They were poking and cutting to their heart’s content. His mind screamed to get away from the assortment of blades and needles that hovered over him, sinking into his skin in various places while he could only writhe against the cuffs of the metal table he was strapped to. He doesn’t believe it’s their intention to test every ounce of his willpower, but that sure as hell is what they’re doing right now as he tries, really tries not to use his feathers out of desperation.

“Excellent. The cuts begin healing the moment they’re made,” one of them observes. “Try deeper incisions. Maybe I should try removing one of its eyes.”

Raptor’s heartbeat was booming in his ears after hearing those words.

A younger Mask has been flinching from every one of the nomu’s movements. “Shouldn’t we sedate it or something? What if it lashes out?”

“Stop panicking. A nomu won’t hurt anyone without orders, though his responses to pain are stronger than I expected. We may have to fix that.”

Raptor wouldn’t mind that at all. He hisses and howls as he’s taken apart and mended back together in a torturous loop. His brain is throbbing so strongly one would worry that it might burst. He fights to think through all of the agony. 

He thinks of your touch. He thinks of your taste. Were you repulsed by what he did that morning? 

Sharp pain shot through his wings when his feathers were being forcefully yanked out, his teeth on the verge of shattering from his tightly clenched jaws.

“Perfect! Look at that, they’re already growing back in.” 

They were. He could feel the fresh plumes pushing through his skin. The regeneration did well in preventing any real damage, but it didn’t make the violent tearing of his feathers any easier to bear.

The cruel assault on his wings and tail eventually ended, black fluff littering the room’s floor. He remembers when you mentioned other nomu being capable of shutting down whenever they wanted. What he wouldn’t give to just turn off like a light switch right now.

“Alright, it’s time to move on to his heat resistance. Get the torch.”

The what? Raptor searched the fragments of his knowledge; most words were familiar to him, they just took a while to be remembered from...something. He doesn’t understand how he already knows so much, even though his subconsciousness needs time to dust everything off.

One of the Masks was holding a small object that ended in a tube. With a push of a button, a small blue flame appeared.

The glowing yellow eyes that were normally slits were suddenly wider than he thought possible, every part of him hyper focused on the small fire that was getting too close to his sore wings. His mind recovered a new piece of information:

Blue flames are to be feared.

He was thrashing the second the searing pain was felt, fighting to escape, to get away from the blue death that threatened to incinerate his wings again. He has felt this before. He doesn’t want to burn again.

Panic consumed him, unaware of how much his feathers have sharpened as he beats his wings and tail against the table. He can barely hear the Masks’ frantic voices over the ear-splitting screech, a screech that he realizes is coming from his own strained throat.

“–ptor, I SAID STOP!”

“–y arm! Fuck, my arm is bleeding bad–”

“–old you he’d attack! Why is he reacting so–”

“–atives! Into his neck! Hurry!”

Needles are being jammed into his neck, the chemicals working quickly in sapping away his strength, limbs becoming too heavy to move, and his thoughts were too cloudy to even continue panicking. The scorching heat was still present in his wing, but he can still feel the presence of all of his feathers. There was no foul smell of burnt plumage.

“Aaaugh, my arm...” In the corners of his vision, Raptor saw one of the Masks hunched over and clutching a blood-soaked arm. He didn’t mean to hurt any of them.

“Shut up and go patch yourself up.” An older man motioned the rest to come closer to the calmed nomu, which they cautiously obeyed. “Do you all see it? His feathers aren’t damaged at all. Perfect.”

“But why didn’t he stop resisting after you ordered him several times? And why was his reaction to pain so strong?”

The elder grimaced behind his mask and shook his head. “Its pain tolerance is laughable. There’s no use in a nomu having such sensitivity. We’ll need to perform an operation that will dull his nerves.” 

They scrambled around the table, gathering new tools and focusing the creaky hanging light on Raptor’s face. He was too doped up to even react to the harsh brightness.

“And if he ignores us like that again, we may need to alter his brain and ensure his compliance in the future.”

The nomu tried to make a sound of protest, but in his dazed state he could give no more than a pathetic whimper. He was rather thankful of the drugs for making him unable to notice just how many needles were sinking into his brain, or the blades that opened up the rest of his head, keeping the tools in place to prevent his skull from instantly healing. It still hurt, a lot. But as they tweaked his pulsing organ, injecting unknown fluids inside, the pain began to dim. Raptor would have celebrated and attempted to wag his tail in relief.

But it wasn’t the only thing that was fading. The coldness of the metal at his back was becoming distant, the chill in the air of the room was suddenly so faint that it no longer made him shiver. 

He wanted it all to hurt less, but he still wanted to feel. 

He has no idea how much time had passed once they finally finished and allowed his bone and flesh to close up. The old Mask stared down at him, gloves drenched in thick crimson.

“That should do it. Going by your weaker reactions, the operation was a success and you now feel less sensation. Good.”

‘No. Not good.’ It’s what he was tempted to say, but Raptor didn’t want to utter a single word to anyone besides you, and the cruel man’s recent threat of robbing him of his free will ensured that he keeps his mouth shut.

Raptor hates it here.

x---x---x---x---x

There were fresh claw marks covering the walls of Hawks’s room, and this time they were angry. The drawings and games you made together were literally slashed out, with spots of blood spread out all over the floor.

He was curled up in a corner, wings concealing most of his shaking form.

“Raptor.” Firmly addressing him is usually all it takes to gain his full attention, just like any other nomu, High End or not.

Hawks doesn’t respond at all.

That’s new...and very unnerving.

You called him again. The mass of feathers didn’t budge. You swallowed a lump in your throat. He had clearly just thrown a violent tantrum, and you don’t know if he has fully calmed down yet. Approaching him is too risky, but the damn nomu won’t even acknowledge you. So you’ll have to get through him in a more natural way. 

“Raptor, is everything alright? Do you, um, need some space? I can come back a little later...maybe another thirty minutes or so.” You offered, your body slightly twisting toward the door, ready to bolt if he decided to attack. You ignored the cold hard fact that the door and your legs would do little in protecting you from him.

His tail slowly uncurls like a timid snake, wings following suit and revealing his shrunken form. He was hugging himself tightly, talons peeling the skin off of his biceps. His head hung low, but you can see the spot of red in each eye looking right at you. He looked like an angry and frightened child, and his pitiful plea didn’t help matters.

“Don’t...go.”

His vulnerable state quelled your fears, but you still took caution. “Can I come closer?”

He looks down at the floor for a moment, seemingly pondering the question, before straightening his posture and nodding. 

You follow the routine you’ve been getting used to with him, setting aside the jar and taking some time to talk. “Now tell me what’s wrong.”

It was supposed to compel him to instantly explain the issue, or at least attempt to with his awkward speech. You instead see him flinch and growl lowly, as if he didn’t appreciate you making demands. Just what is going on with him?

Your anxiety was probably visible since he quickly switched back to a less aggressive stance. You wince when he drags a claw through his flesh, blood leaking out for only a second before the wound instantly repairs itself. “Can’t feel.” He weeps with cracks in his unnatural voice. At least he’s dragging out his words less and sounds less like a moaning zombie.

“You can’t feel?” You repeated, edging closer and placing a hand over the healed spot. Another growl, louder this time, scares you into pulling away. But his bigger hand seizes yours and presses it hard onto the black skin. You feel the tremors that begin to wrack his body and try to stay calm in the wake of his growing distress. 

His voice becomes only more broken. “Can’t feel it! Can’t feel you!”

You find yourself shushing him, holding your free hand up like you’re trying to calm a panicking animal. You cup the side of his face, but that seems to upset him even more. “You can’t feel my hand?”

He shuts his eyes and shakes his head, squeezing your hand tightly enough to cut off circulation. How freely he can emote still freaks you out a bit, face looking on the verge of shedding tears. Everything about him continues to be so surreal.

“Raptor, you’re a shitty nomu,” you told him with a small smile. “Not that I mind.”

And there goes that cute head tilt. The thought of him being released in a city to wreak havoc, just like the one that attacked Endeavor and...him, feels less possible after every meeting.

He was still powerful and potentially dangerous, if the state of the walls were anything to go by. You really shouldn’t be pushing your luck or his temper. On the other hand, you did decide yesterday that from now on, you are going to embrace the depraved dumbass within you. Hawks stiffens and starts to slowly pull back, but your hand makes its way to the back of his head. “It’s alright, it’s alright,” you soothed him. “I just want to see if you can feel any of this.”

With no more hesitation, you pressed your lips to his, feeling his shock through a surprised grunt. For a minute, you simply cover his rough lips with kisses while he stays completely still, eyes looking on the verge of bulging right out of their sockets. It looked downright silly. Why was he so shocked by a simple kiss anyway, after the way you let him ravage your mouth yesterday? 

Your lips pause when you remember the distraught sounds he made that morning as he watched you rush out of the room. That’s right.

“Hey,” you murmur against him. “Sorry for taking off like that last time. Just...don’t worry about it, okay.” He released a hot breath onto your face. Your trapped hand is finally freed from his iron grip, numb and stiff, but you keep your attention on the motionless nomu. “We’re not exactly supposed to be doing this, but I want you t-mmf!”

He suddenly went forward and attacked your lips, aggressively mimicking your movements with enough force to bruise. You try to keep up and calm his pace, sighing into his mouth once his lips finally begin to slow down. He’s clumsy like you expected, but his intelligence shows when he tries to follow your lead and quickly learns the intimate dance of your mouths. The occasional swipe of that blasted tongue across your lip makes you gasp, and then you feel big strong arms wrapping around you and pulling you close, the beats of his excited wings, the throaty growls that rattle your entire being…

You can feel yourself heating up again already.

“Mmm, Raptor...wait,” you manage to say between kisses, your hands pushing against his chest. He gives a grating sound of annoyance, but pulls away like you wished. You were suddenly hyper aware of his size and strength – this monster that was holding you closely and taking care not to harm you. If any other nomu had you like this, they undoubtedly wouldn’t have stopped.

“So, did you feel any of that?” Your hand travels down to his groin and rubs at the bulge that still had a lot of growing to do. “Do you feel that?”

To your dismay, he shakes his head. “No,” he groans as his wings droop closer to the floor. 

It has you stumped. How are you supposed to please him when his whole body is numb?

“But…” He licks his lips slowly. “Can still taste. Tastes so good.”

When you let him lap at your lips again, he twitches beneath the ragged cloth.

You put two and two together, and the realization makes you gulp. And ache.

Remember, shame is useless here.

He allows you to back away and create some distance. The sight before you is frightening on its own: The sharp stare of the raven-winged fiend while surrounded by the deep marks of its outburst would do well in intimidating any sane individual. Remembering what exactly he is makes you pause only for a second, your hands grabbing the bottom of your thin blue shirt and lifting it before your pesky conscience can even get a word in.

Hawks’s wings flare out slightly when your breasts are revealed to him, talons clicking against the floor as he shuffles about, at a loss of how to react. Relieved that you haven’t been pounced on immediately, you lean down to remove your pants next, ignoring the trembling in your hands as you pull the garment down and step out of them. They never supplied you with underwear, so with your two articles of clothing removed, you were completely nude in front of the dangerous nomu.

At first you both just stared at each other, until he finally came forward to scan your body more closely, mindful of how nervous you were. The tension made you almost choke and cough on your words.

“I-if you want to…taste more of me, go ahead.” You didn’t mean to squeak out those last two words. You blame it on the chilly air.

The hands that take hold of your hips feel extra hot, along with the breath that grazes your chest. The blue tongue slides past his lips and extends to press against the spot right over your pounding heart, then moving smoothly up the column of your neck and your cheek in one long swipe, the wet trail making you shudder. The mouth ventures close to your ear to utter the word that you remember repeating to him on the first day you got him off.

“Calm.”

It’s followed by a rolling purr that eases you into doing just that. The humming continues while he eyes your breasts, nipples already pert from being exposed to the air. Even in your more relaxed state, the sudden lick across your tit makes your breath hitch. He seems to enjoy your response and repeats the action, giving it several more laps before wrapping around the entirety of the soft globe like a tentacle, squeezing gently.

“Ah, Raptor,” you moan when the tip of the tongue flicks at your nipple, sending the tiniest of jolts through you. “Damn, where did you learn to do that?” 

He answers with nothing more than a groan as he continues to show off his tongue’s flexibility. It coils and swirls around the skin until every inch of it is covered in his saliva, making you even more sensitive to the cold air. Satisfied with his work, he moves on to repeat the motions with your other breast.

The pleasure was soothing, like a massage…if the masseuse had sticky boneless limbs. You close your eyes and wrap your arms around him, letting yourself enjoy the vile act of a monster sampling your taste. 

His mouth suddenly engulfs you, the damp heat adding to the ongoing feeling of his tongue dancing around your tit. The purrs abruptly become a powerful vibration that electrifies your skin and brings forth your moisture to drip and run down your thighs.

But Hawks suddenly pulls away and stares at you intensely, the glower snapping you out of your daze.

“What is it?” You were getting nervous again. Did one of your reactions irritate him?

He breathes in, again and again, sniffing at the air for something. The swaying tail hints that whatever he smells is exciting him. His head lowers in pursuit of the scent and stops at your womanly mound to take a long whiff at the spicy aroma emanating from your cunt.

With his breath now blowing right against your sex and increasing your arousal, your juices trickled freely onto the floor and for him to see. The clawed hands on your hips held you steady, preventing you from collapsing from the nerve-racking anticipation that had you shaking all over. At no point in your life have you ever felt this exposed, being ogled by a pair of eyes in which the irises were bigger than you’ve ever seen them, mesmerized by the source of the delicious smell.

The tongue slips between your thighs before you could even prepare yourself, stretching across the entirety of your lips, over your entrance, nearly reaching your ass before it pulls back toward his mouth, the rubbing of the silky muscle creating buzzes of pleasure. Looking down gives you the unpleasant view of his brain, but you also get to see him swallow and savor your taste, humming deeply in approval before salivating with the need to drink up more.

“Good.”

He doesn’t wait for your response – his face is already being shoved into you, and you’re suddenly bombarded with delightful hot sensations all over your pussy. The ravenous organ travels up and down your folds, collecting every drop of your sweet nectar while you could do nothing but spread your legs to give him more leeway – God you’re such a whore – and cover your mouth in the hope that no passerbys hear your moans in the room. 

When your legs officially become jelly and can no longer support you, Hawks tires of holding you up and allows you to fall back a little too hard onto the floor, the impact making you wince. Any other time, he probably would have at least made a sound of apology, but your sopping wet pussy has stolen his attention. He wastes no time in lifting your hips up toward his waiting mouth, now utilizing his lips along with his tongue to loudly slurp up your essence.

His vicious hunger has you seeing stars. Wings open up and expand around both of you like black curtains that darken your vision, like a bird of prey mantling over a hard-earned meal. The only thing you can clearly see between your legs are the eerie glows of red and yellow; the glare of a demon that seeks to devour you from the inside. He starts to suck your folds dry, growling as he inspects every inch of the ravaged honeypot until his lips brush against your neglected clit.

A muffled “fuck!” passes between your fingers, both of your hands tightly clamped over your mouth. The reaction surprises him, and to his delight, it triggers more of your nectar to flow. The most efficient gag wouldn’t have been enough to suppress your scream when he sucked hard on your sensitive bud.

You couldn’t help it. Fighting past the paralyzing pleasure, your hands blindly grab at his head and accidentally bury your fingers into a soft squishy brain. The discomfort makes him shake his head and groan in irritation, raising his head and narrowing those menacing eyes at you as a silent warning.

“Hah...shit...I’m sor–AH! Fuck-oh my god....” He’s already attacking your clit again before you can finish your apology. All he cares about at the moment is your taste, and not even you were going to interrupt him. The surrounding wings occasionally twitch and shudder around you, vibrating along with your approaching climax. But the second you feel dangerously close, his lips leave the perky little pebble and move back down to lap at your fresh flow. It tears you away from an orgasmic finale and brings you back to that sensual middle ground. The audible licks were amazing, but you need to reach that edge. Your hand drifted down to your pussy, right over his tongue where you can give your clit the stimulation needed to cum…

“Hwrrrrrrr…”

You felt the terrifying snarl more than you heard it, shaking you to your very core. The other core, not the one on the verge of bursting. You immediately pull away and freeze, shivering and breathing quickly at the sight of his bared fangs. For a brief moment, the tent of feathers showed off a faint sheen, like they all suddenly sharpened. A quivering, fear-fueled gasp left you. 

It felt like the staredown went on forever, but Hawks was eventually convinced that you weren’t going to distract him from his feast again and returned his gaze to the fragrant pussy before him. However, after a few more licks, he grunted in frustration. You weren’t secreting your precious juices fast enough; your body simply couldn’t keep up with his newfound greed.

The insatiable tongue keeps poking and prodding at your opening until it pushes in just enough to slightly stretch your walls. You struggle to stay relaxed and keep your hands to yourself. Hawks was currently as unpredictable as any other nomu, and you didn’t want to piss him off.

When the hot thick muscle is suddenly shoved into you, you don't even have time to cover your mouth and block the next scream that is ripped from your throat. There’s no time to adjust to the completely foreign sensation. It squirms inside of you like a living creature, massaging your pussy in ways you didn’t even know were possible, sometimes hitting that special soft spot.

Your molten center spreads its flames across every nerve. This is far beyond what you fantasized on the night you touched yourself. His tongue was able to fill you completely, all while moving around more freely than a cock or even fingers ever could. Too soon does it leave your pulsing walls and back into his mouth, where he swallows every drop he’s gathered before shooting his tongue back out and penetrating you again before you can even complain.

He was moving with more force, enough to create a visible swell in your stomach that moved along with his tongue. You can’t look away from it, even as he begins to push in and out at a steady rhythm, the pleasure building up to new heights while the bulge in your belly moves up and down. You’re tempted to ask him to move his wings to allow more light for a better view, but interrupting him now is probably a stupid idea.

He pants loudly from his open mouth as he fucks you thoroughly with nothing more than a long powerful tongue, his thrusts moving faster and deeper in search of more of your savory wetness.

Meanwhile, you were dizzy. It was uncomfortable at first. It’s been so long since you’ve been fully stretched, but it all quickly melds into pleasure you have long since forgotten – no – you hadn’t even known. Your interest in sex has greatly diminished during your stay here. Hell, you were certain that your libido was officially dead. But Hawks….

This abomination was going to be the death of you.

Your g-spot is suddenly struck again, and again. Most of your words were incoherent, and the ones that could be made out were nothing more than endless encouragement.  “Gah-hnngh, fuck, Hawks, you want more, don’t you? Ah, I’m about to give you more. Keep going Hawks don’t fucking stop.” 

Talons are biting into your skin from his tightened grip. With a low bellow of excitement, his mouth moves to cover your entire sex, prepared for the incoming downpour, and thrusts his tongue into your most sensitive spot repeatedly without mercy.

The pressure within explodes violently, completely overshadowing that laughable orgasm you gave yourself yesterday. Each contraction adds more white that flashes in your eyes, moving in from the corners of your vision until it becomes as blinding and unbearable as the bliss that washes over you. There are noisy gulps between your legs, the parched monster happily taking every rush of fluid directly into his mouth and down his throat until he finally has his fill.

Even through your spasms your walls try desperately to clamp around his tongue as it leaves, but to no avail. The looming wings finally move away and return to their usual resting spot behind his back while he sets your lower body down and licks his lips for any remaining traces of your slick. The talons never broke your skin, but they did leave some glaring marks on your hips and ass.

You still tingled all over from the waist down while your muscles make the greatest effort to respond to any of your commands. No use. You decide to lay there covered in the monster’s spit. The work of that amazing specimen of a tongue almost made you forget that this was being done to arouse him. You should probably check to see if he was hard. He may not be able to feel your hand anymore, but he still might be excited enough to cum from the act. Stupid science bastards, making your job more complicated.

“Hawks.”

The single word uttered from the nomu clears your mind instantly. Your weakened arms push you upright to properly face him. He was still crouching, scaly toes supporting the weight of his body like a gargoyle without a perch.

“You say Hawks. What...is Hawks?”

What? When did you…?

Oh. Shit. Your mouth was moving on its own while he was eating you out.

Your mind was zipping in several directions at once, hoping that he wouldn’t find anything odd about your eyes darting about, looking everywhere except at him. You settled on a simple and dismissive answer. “Oh...don’t worry about it. I was just babbling while you had me on cloud nine,” you said with a crooked smile.

Black lips twisted into a frown, accompanied by a quick beat of his wings and then...eww. His brain is pulsing way too much, so much that he shakes his head in agitation, which only adds to the disturbing visual as the organ jiggles slightly in his head. “Hawks...don’t know...I know…” His words jumbled over his inner turmoil. The long tail lifted and began to swing quickly.

You sat there, nude and bewildered. Every High-End still carried traces of who they once were, expressing some of the same behaviors and habits they presumably had before death.

This is the first time you’ve seen one with any sort of recollection of their past life, even if it’s something as minor as feeling a connection to their name. You have a feeling that’s not supposed to happen.

You shouldn’t tell him anything; nothing good will come out of it. He needs to shut up and start being a bloodthirsty killer before the doctors decide that he’s more trouble than he’s worth.

“Raptor,” your shaky legs move slowly, shifting until you’re resting on your knees, face to face with the nomu that still looks interested in your naked body even as his head throbs. “It’s not important. Stop thinking about it.”

The look he gives you is one of hurt and dammit, this is exactly his problem. “But...Hawks. Want to know what-”

“I said stop thinking!”  Your volume shocks both of you, but Hawks actually recoils from the unexpected shout. You don’t care, all it does is confuse you more, anger you more. “Why the hell aren’t you listening to me anymore? That’s what you’re supposed to do! Do whatever we tell you! What, did you break?” A full-body chill reminds you of the state you’re in. You were seriously having an outburst while still completely naked with Hawks’s saliva glistening over your thighs. You groan and turn away from the troubled hybrid to grab your clothes and dress yourself, not giving a damn if you pissed him off and he decides to kill you right there. He’d be doing both of you a favor, really.

But it shouldn’t be a surprise when you see that he hasn’t budged from his spot, making no move to retaliate. “I like you, Raptor,” you admitted. “Somehow, you managed to be the only welcomed company in this fucked up hospital slash prison, but you shouldn’t be. What we just did...that shouldn’t have happened. Fuck, I – I should’ve been terrified, and I kinda was, but, I shouldn’t have felt that good!” Your doubts, your conscience, they both return with a vengeance. But this time it’s not you they’re worried about. 

“If this is how you act around everyone else, you’re not going to last here.” You hold his face in your hands, a tender gesture that shouldn’t be possible with the likes of him. “These assholes are gonna get rid of you if you don’t do what they want, and they’re going to ask for horrible things. I know you don’t like killing, but if you keep up all of...this, you’re going to lose more than your sense of touch.”

He doesn’t make a sound, only staring at you before gritting his teeth and nodding in your gentle grasp. His compliance both relieves and hurts you.

“I’m sorry, but no more questions. Please? The less you know, the better.”

“No more…questions.” Dammit, you hate how clear the sorrow is in his eerie voice, like the mournful moans of a lost soul. “No more.”

You give him a smile of thanks, it’s the least you could give him. You try to bring the atmosphere back to its usual awkward yet friendly vibe. “Now, let me see if your, um, tasting did you any good.” You move to pull down his shorts. That is, until you notice the large damp spots and stains on the cheap material. Oh, he did not.

“Welp, it obviously worked. Now how am I gonna scrape this shit off?”

x---x---x---x---x

Hawks.

Flames.

Decay.

Death. Everywhere.

But, somehow, he knew it wasn’t his doing. 

Maybe he did kill a few...he wasn’t sure. It’s all so blurry and nauseating. 

Was he killing people? Was he…trying to save them? A monster like him, saving people?

“No more questions.”

Your voice echoes, bouncing across the shattered fragments of his mind. Raptor tries to obey. He doesn’t know what this Hawks is, or why it keeps plaguing him.

Whatever Hawks was, it’s gone. Raptor wants it to leave him alone.

x---x---x---x---x

Subject: Raptor

Field Test

Quirk #5: Camouflage

Notes: As you know by now, Raptor differs from other nomu in that he is designed for agility and stealth. An invisibility quirk will not only make Raptor into the perfect phantom, it can also assist in infiltration and spying. While the quirk may be called ‘camouflage’ mainly due to how it changes skin pigmentation, it does much more than match the colors of the environment. It hides the user’s entire form as perfectly as any true invisibility quirk. Raptor should be more than capable of destroying targets without ever being noticed.

You were right. It was strange how he doesn’t discover these ‘quirks’ on his own. It was an understatement to say that he was a little lost when a Coat ordered him to activate his Camouflage. Raptor was prepared to feel those words bind his limbs and move him against his will. Whenever his brain was under the Coats’ control, he was capable of doing whatever they asked, even when he himself didn’t understand what they were asking for.

So it was worrying when he felt nothing. He heard the order loud and clear, yet it didn’t wrap around his brain like it always does. 

So it wasn’t just you. His mind no longer submitted to anyone’s commands. He would have chirped in celebration if he didn’t have an audience that was still waiting for him to follow through, giving looks and comments of impatience while he stood there. 

He can’t let them notice that he was unaffected. The words of the Mask that stole his touch repeated in his head along with the memories of cutting and burning, every nerve seething from raw pain until all feeling began to fade.

“If he ignores us like that again, we may need to alter his brain and ensure his compliance in the future.”

Alter...change...he doesn’t want them to change him. So Raptor tried to pretend, another thing that felt natural to him. 

The process of finding his new quirk was difficult to describe; it was more like willing himself to blend in until the rest of his body got the message. All of his muscles tightened, and he almost panicked when black skin began to disappear before his eyes. His wings, his tail, every part of him looked as if it was dissolving, but he can still move and feel the weight of each limb. Once his body relaxed, he was fully invisible. The Coats kept him pinned with their stares, however.

“Completely hidden. Very good,” one of them said, writing something down. They’re always watching, always taking notes on him, always judging. This all felt familiar as well. “Now, walk from that corner to there, and keep a hold on your quirk.”

There was no pull, no sudden fuzziness or loss of control. Nothing. It’s a strange feeling, following orders because he actually chooses to. It will take some getting used to, but it shouldn’t be too difficult. 

Has a monster like him ever acted before? It sure feels like it.

He performed several different tasks: running, climbing, flying, and shooting feathers. All while unseen by the naked eye. The feat even earned him a round of applause from the Coats.

“I can picture it already. He could slice apart an entire group of targets, and they wouldn’t even understand their deaths. A flurry of invisible blades!” One of them exclaimed with a smile that was way too wide given the subject matter.

“Don’t worry, we’re going to get a taste of what this is capable of right now.”

Right on cue, the doors opened. Every feather on his wings and tail bristled instantly, ready to shred whatever possible threat that may enter. They wouldn’t be able to see him. It would be so easy, just like the Coats said.

But instead of another nomu that was simpler and more violent than him, a woman was shoved into the room hard enough to make her stumble forward and fall, the door slamming shut behind her. She was dressed like you, wearing only a thin blue shirt and pants. What did they bring someone like her in here for?

She was already back on her feet, scanning the area with wide eyes and shrunken pupils before moving her gaze to the humans that continued to observe from the other side. The fear in the air was so thick that Raptor could nearly taste it as she shook uncontrollably – he wondered if her knees would collapse from the trembling alone.

He was still camouflaged; she couldn’t see him at all. The urge to reveal himself is strong, but one: the Coats had yet to order him to deactivate his quirk, and two: knowing that she was in a room with a nomu will most definitely only terrify her more, so he stayed where he was, motionless and quiet.

For a suffocating minute, the only sound was her rapid breathing until one of the Coats finally spoke up.

“Kill her, Raptor.”

“What?” The woman’s voice was constricted by anxiety. She looked timidly at the man, who only stared back expectantly, waiting for something. “W-what?” She choked out again. She switched her attention to the door, still distressed and shaking. When no horrid beast entered the room like she expected, her panic increased even more, stuttering so badly that it was a challenge to discern what she was trying to say. “I-I-I w-I won’t...I’m s-so...p-p-please.” 

Her head whipped upwards to a vent in the ceiling. Nothing happened. The confused woman was now spinning around looking for something, hysterical with the knowledge that her impending doom was coming, but not knowing where or when. The weight of her dread was making him anxious.

The same Coat, however, only sighed in annoyance at the sight of the trapped panicking animal. “Don’t dawdle, Nomu.” The final word dripped with venom. It reminded him of his place: a puppet that should have no will of its own. Raptor didn’t want to kill, but if he defies them, then they will dig into his brain again, and the woman will probably be violently killed by a more enthusiastic nomu. He’s afraid of what they might take from him next. He can’t let that happen.

The shrinking woman is still whipping her head around in every direction as her bare feet take a step backwards, then another, completely unaware of the larger creature that stood right behind her. He can’t guarantee a painless death, but he can make it as quick as possible for her.

Raptor added an edge to some of his feathers, but reconsidered. That would require pinpoint accuracy, not worth the risk with a target that was moving so erratically.

His tongue curiously ran over the points of his teeth, checking their sharpness. No, that would leave too much of a mess.

His hands clenched into fists, and that’s when he practically heard the ding in his head. A simple method, but it should work just fine.

He was originally going to wait until she backed all the way into him, but that would be rather cruel. Killing her before she even recognizes the danger is a greater mercy. His hand struck with the swiftness of a snake, grabbing the back of her neck. The delicate spine could be felt beneath.

Raptor was not as strong as other nomu. That didn’t mean he couldn’t crush a human’s bones with little effort.

He felt her jolt, but that’s all she had time to do before the sickening snap and crunch sounded throughout the room, then she went limp with nothing more than a few final twitches.

Some of the Coats audibly gasped, while others clapped excitedly at the kill they couldn’t even see coming. From their perspective, an unsuspecting woman’s neck was suddenly crushed by an invisible force like an aluminum can.

One of them didn’t look very impressed. “Eh, a bit anticlimactic, don’t you think?”

“We’re not watching a bloodsport,” another one snapped. “Raptor is designed to handle matters quickly. A cervical fracture is fast and effective.”

“She was so terrible at her job. I think she deserved a terrible death in return,” another said. 

Their babbling continued while Raptor placed the body on the floor more gently than his audience would have liked. Her eyes were still wide open, frozen in that moment of realization just a millisecond before death. Still, things could have been much worse for her. 

“I still think we should have used his harvester instead. She’s becoming a nuisance.”

Raptor has grown to really dislike that voice, the voice of the man that takes him away every morning. He always stares at him like an expensive possession that turned out to be a waste of money. It’s an effort to keep his lips from curling over his teeth whenever the bastard’s around.

An older lady spoke. “Her relationship with the nomu is unique and warrants its own set of experiments after we cover the basics here. We already told you that.”

“Yes yes, I know. But her sample this morning was pathetic. It’s like she’s forgotten her job, too busy turning our greatest achievement into a softie. Call me petty, but I’d get a good laugh out of watching her be devoured by the nomu that she’s decided to become friends with.”

Anger.

“You are petty, and short-sighted. Do you understand just how extraordinary this relationship is?”

Another Coat butted in. “Sure, but what use is sentiment to a nomu? This was supposed to be a cold lethal predator, not a child that likes to draw on walls. I agree that the bond with its harvester is holding it back. It would be better off without her.”

Raptor hates it. He doesn’t want any of them talking about you. To think that they’d consider something as twisted as offering you to him as a helpless prisoner to execute, just like the one whose spine he had just snapped.

How dare they.

The lady was suddenly staring right at him with a look of shock before her aged lips curled into a smirk. Actually, everyone was staring at him now, and they all showed varying levels of discomfort. That’s when he noticed that he can see his hands in front of him again, along with his feet, wings, and the rest of his body. His fury made him lose his hold on the Camouflage quirk. They had all just seen his face of hatred.

And yet the lady continued to smile. “I don’t believe he agrees with you two.”

She then whispered something, lips forming what looked like the word ‘magnificent’ while her eyes bore into him. Even his rage was nothing more than a fascinating process to be examined.

Raptor wants to get out of here.

x---x---x---x---x

You’re alright. You made it out. You were bruised, but you made it out.

That High-End nearly broke your fucking arm when it came. It was always a pretty rough one when you jerked it off but for god’s sake, why did it always have to squeeze you like a stress ball? Thankfully, your painful shriek of “STOP!” was enough to penetrate the horny shield over its brain and it released you.

It wasn’t your first injury, but it’s been a while since you’ve gotten such a scare. It could’ve been worse – it could always be much worse.

The fact that you feel elated when you reach Hawks’s room shows how close the two of you have gotten in less than a week. Two prisoners who agree that this place can go fuck itself; one was pumping cocks on the daily, the other failed miserably at being a ruthless monster. They ought to make a movie out of this.

You enter the room to see him resting in the center while several feathers carve into different areas of the walls and ceiling. His understanding of shapes was becoming more complex at a rapid rate, if the current drawings were anything to go by. They looked to be unintentionally abstract faces, varying greatly in size and structure, but one thing they all had in common was oversized eyes. Every face was furiously scratched in, the sound of chiseling surrounding you and adding to the ominous aura given off by the etchings that lacked skill but teemed with raw emotion. 

The scattered claw marks from yesterday are still as visible as ever. Everyday, this place looks more disturbing even with the not-so-hostile creature that occupies it.

Something prompts his feathers to stop abruptly and return to him, followed by him quickly standing up and hissing. The badly-timed hostility makes you jump back. “Raptor? What is it?” You tried to stay calm as usual.

He drew closer, eyes narrowed and teeth bared at the purplish welts on the arm that held your gazillionth jar. Oh, of course. You waved with you uninjured one. “It’s alright. One of the High Ends was being a little heavy-handed. It stings, but it’ll get better.” 

Hot air hits you when he releases a snort. While he studies the bruise, you continue to examine the newest artful additions. “So...what do all of these mean?” You ask.

He follows your traveling gaze and mutters. “Watching. They’re always watching.”

He said it so smoothly that it gave you chills. “You’re tripping up less on your words. That’s, uh, good.” When a grunt is his only response, you keep talking. “Are these the doctors?” He nodded. “Did you...have to kill again?”

A beat. Then he nods again, more slowly this time. “It was easier.” 

You’re not sure what to say to that, deciding to instead rest a hand on his arm. For some reason, what he said didn’t scare you. It was you who asked him to act more like a nomu, anyway.

You both stayed like that for a few minutes, standing side-by-side in the middle of the room’s crude composition that illustrated his short life. Innocence, rage, and now a feeling of powerlessness. You can relate; your progress here was very similar except that the ‘innocence’ part can be replaced with ‘grief’, having lost contact with everything you were familiar with. 

“You know, maybe I can add my own additions to this sometime, if you don’t mind. Make this place our own little mural.” You giggle when his tail swings at the proposal. “There’s no way they haven’t noticed how odd of a duo we are by now. I wonder how those assholes feel about all of this.”

You’re grabbed and pulled into him so quickly that the jar slips out of your grip, rolling away as you’re pushed into a hard black chest. The tight embrace squeezes your swollen arm painfully. “Shit, that hurts!”

He whines apologetically and loosens his hold. Pain and lack of oxygen aside, it’s oddly comforting. You haven’t been hugged in ages, and here you were being held by this. A song of soft coos calm you, but there is a noticeable sad tone to them. You look up at him, chin resting on his pecs. “Raptor, I know it sucks here, and I don’t really know what to say to make things better, but I’ll keep trying to hang out with you for as long as I can, alright?” You reassure him while rubbing his chest. “Remember, you’re kind of the best thing that ever happened to this place. Not that my standards in this shithole are very high – they’re actually lower than a regular nomu’s sex drive – but it’s still an achievement you should be proud of.”

Your words did their job, if his lighter hums are anything to go by. His comforting heat was gone too soon when he gently pushed you back, following up with a press of lips against yours.

There’s no more clumsiness in his movements. He switched from light brushes that had you craving more to deep smooches that took your breath away. There wasn’t much else you could do except follow his lead. The teasing licks against your lips never fail to get you going, and he probably knows that by now. Unfortunately, you had to break apart for a breather, allowing him to cradle you as he waited.

“Who the hell have you been kissing while I’m not around to learn so fast?” You joked.

You didn’t expect him to look away and hesitate to answer before uttering, “I...remembered.”

If he was expecting that to upset you, it didn’t. You can’t stop his brain from working, and he no longer automatically gives in to any demands. You still don’t know what’s up with that. “Right,” you sighed. “Are you remembering anything else?”

“No...same things. Hawks...fire...death...I want to forget.” He pulls you in again, this time taking care not to add too much pressure to your bruises. His strangled attempts at speech have become smoother over the days, but hearing the winged hero beneath the layers of grotesque sounds that create his voice is going to take a long time to get used to. “Can...you...make me forget?”

A twinge of sadness and pity. Are his final moments the only parts that keep playing in his head, in a cruel loop? You direct all of your strength into your voice and speak. “Forget about it. Forget about Hawks and all of those foggy memories.”

He sits there and blinks with no clear sign that your words had any effect. 

Then he wilts and groans in defeat.

“No good, huh?” You shrug. You truly did wish you could help him. “There’s not much else I can do, sorry.” A pause. “Must feel like nightmares, I guess. I get plenty of those.” You rest in his hold while recalling some of the fears that manifest in your sleep. “Dreams about what they’ll do when they don’t need me anymore. I never had the guts to put myself out of my misery – don’t have many options to work with anyway. Maybe I can ask a nomu to chomp my head off.”

“No.” The word was growled out, felt all around you like a small quake. You quickly try to calm him by raising your uninjured arm to hold and caress his face. You know that he couldn’t exactly feel it anymore, but the memory of your touch is probably what still managed to soothe him. It was an intimate image, touching him so lovingly while in his arms.

“Don’t worry, I’ll stick around. We can make things easier for each other.” Without a second thought, you straighten up and begin pushing down your pants, Hawks already chirping in excitement and fumbling with your shirt, his talons ripping the cloth. You were naked in front of him once again, and the memories of yesterday already have your pussy lubricating itself in preparation. Samples...semen….you weren’t thinking about any of that. You just wanted him again.

“Let’s help each other forget.”

And just like that, you were devoured. His mouth was everywhere and you happily took it all. You were addicted to his touch as much as he was addicted to your flavor. The dark blue tongue moved gracefully across your face, the small grin and lidded eyes telling you that he quite enjoyed the sight of you covered in his saliva. You opened your mouth wide as an invitation that he gladly took, the strong muscle charging straight into your mouth and hitting the back of your throat. It makes you gag and has tears pricking at your eyes, yet you continue to throb between your legs.

He fucks your mouth so fast and roughly that you’re forced to only breathe through your nose. You’re clinging onto him as you gurgle around the ravaging muscle, your nails unable to pierce his tough hide no matter how hard you grip.

Something solid rubs right against your sex, grazing your clit and leaving you moaning into his mouth. His hips were bucking into the air with a very prominent tent that constricted his growing cock.

It’s the first time a nomu’s dick actually touches you there. 

And it makes your walls clench.

You get closer for more friction, trying to grind against the massive erection while he finally removes his tongue from your mouth. That’s when he notices just how hard you’re trying to get off on his bulge.

Heat is rushing to your face at his puzzled expression. “You-” You gasp, still catching your breath after having him squirm down your throat for so long. “You feel pretty good.”

He simply watches you continue to rub against him – you don’t even notice that his hips are no longer moving, you just press closer to him and grind harder in desperation. His wings flutter and the rest of his body shakes lightly, his breaths coming out in short huffs.

He was laughing.

The look of amusement is so unexpected that it has your hips stopping out of embarrassment. And here you thought nothing else could leave you flustered at this point. “You don’t have to laugh. Trust me, you’ve looked way more desperate than I have,” You tease him. 

He clicks his tongue, then with a yank and a loud rip, his shorts are in tatters and his cock springs free right onto your belly. Another short round of huffs are heard from him when you squeak in surprise. Just where did this attitude even come from?

Beads of precum ooze from his pointed head and drip onto your stomach. Maybe it’s your lust-tinted lenses, but his cock is looking much more attractive than usual. Its curved perfectly to hit all of the right spots, and those ridges probably feel amazing when moving inside you.

“Want more?”

The low-pitched voice right in your ear has you shaking, like it was a question from the Devil himself. Thirst aside, you don’t know what you should say. You trust that he won’t fuck you to shreds like the other High Ends would, but the biggest issue…

“I don’t know if I should risk that,” you murmur, a hand reaching to rub the textured flesh. “As tempting as it is right now.”

His confidence is replaced with disappointment. That is, until he immediately perks back up and grabs your hips.

“Wait what are yoooo-whoa!”  You’re being lifted off the floor, legs dangling uselessly as he holds you easily, your body hovering right over his twitching dick.

Panic begins to set in. “No! Nononono I said-”

“I won’t.” He says softly. As softly as he can with such a voice, at least. “Calm.”

Instead of penetrating like you feared, he lowers you until your flushed lips are resting on the length of his scaly shaft.  

And then, slowly, his hips push forward.

The bumps and creases slide against you in all of the right ways. “Oooh fuck.” You adjust yourself to ensure that he rubs your clit as well. The sensation has you shuddering in his hands as the pressure inside you builds quickly. Your slick makes his dick smoother after each thrust, and when Hawks sees that you’re comfortable and lost in the rhythm, he begins to speed up. 

Your legs are swinging madly at a complete loss on how to handle the electrifying friction, but the nomu grunts and takes hold of your thighs. They close around his cock, greatly increasing the pressure as he continued to fuck past your thighs. “Stay there.” The vibration from his deep raspy voice only arouses you more. His hips collide with yours after each buck.

As amazing as it feels, your hazy mind recalls that Hawks shouldn’t be able to properly revel in this outercourse. “I-I thought...you couldn’t feel this.” You say shakily.

Hawks is eyeing your bouncing form with great interest, his hips not missing a beat as he answered. “Can’t. Just watching.”

He presses down on you more, slowing down his pace with his eyes still locked on your face. His tongue quickly swipes across your forehead to taste the sweat that has mixed with his saliva. “You look good.”

Goddamn him.

You felt close, so close, but even as your limbs tingle from the pleasure, your orgasm remained out of reach. The most severe ache that had yet to be sated, to be given any attention, was inside you. You have never throbbed this much in your life, you didn’t even know that your muscles down there could even contract this tightly. The dragging of his cock against your drenched lips isn't enough. You don’t care about risk anymore. Not after feeling what he has to offer.

There’s no voice telling you how stupid you’re being right now. It already gave up on you.

Good.

“Haw–shit–Raptor, inside. I need you inside.” You beg between your moans. He stills completely, which has you whining and squirming even more.

“Inside?”

Hearing him say it sobers you up a bit, but not enough to kill your desire. “Just pull out before you cum, alright? Think you can do that?” You ask.

He nods eagerly, wings and tail moving with glee as he lifts you off of his dick that was already lubed up by your natural fluids. He angles himself until the head is pressing at your twitching entrance. 

You can’t tell if you’re trembling from excitement or fear. Probably both.

The fine tip already has you being stretched wide, burning and stinging in spite of your pussy’s preparation. It makes you wince and want to close your eyes – to create some distance between you and the pain – but your curiosity has you looking down to watch him enter you, inch by inch. You can once again see your stomach distend as it attempts to accommodate the large intrusion, much bigger than the slithery tongue that previously invaded it.

But it’s exactly what you craved, the unique texture feeling even more delicious when inside of you. Your toes curl and legs quiver from his girth; not as meaty as the other dicks that you’ve treated, just enough extra thickness to give you a stretch that you’ve never experienced, without causing serious harm.

He reaches the end of your cavern with a few more inches to spare, and the drawn out moan slipping past his lips surprises both of you. You try to relax around him while he fights the urge to move. Black shaky wings expand behind him.

“Feel…” He gasped and choked, one would think that he was trying to learn speech all over again. “Can feel...squeezing. So gooood.” The last word came out as a strong rasp against your face.

The new discovery has you smiling, one of your hands rubbing at a much larger one around your waist. “You can feel it? You feel how tight I am, Raptor? How badly I want you to stay inside me and never leave?” He may not be able to feel your heat or your dampness, but it looks like he can’t escape the pressure from a cunt’s death grip.

He twitches inside, making you jolt. Oh, how quickly the tables have turned.

You scratch under his chin. Numb as he is, he still tilts his head like a pet dying for affection. “Then I want you to fuck me. Stop thinking, and just move...” You bring your face close to his, pulling off a seductive look and tone even when impaled on him. “...Just like a good nomu.”

Perhaps Hawks had a submissive kink when he was alive. It would explain why that riled him up so much that he was already slamming into you with absolutely no warning. 

It hurts. It hurts so fucking good. Every thrust tears a helpless cry out of your body. The scales grind against every nerve around your hole, while the ones deeper inside nudge your velvety walls as they move in and out, in and out.

You couldn’t talk between your screams, not with how violently he was pounding you. Your arms and legs wrapped around him and hung on for dear life with your face buried in the crook of his neck. His own muscular arms wrap around you in a deceptively loving embrace, pumping into you with a rhythmic smack smack smack.  All you can do is reap what you sow and take it. 

This wasn’t just for you, this was for Hawks as well. You gave him something that he could feel again. What began as whiny gasps for air soon became rolling growls that vocalize a need for more. 

Your orgasm barely sticks out of the continuous blinding pleasure as he plows harder through your spasms, your contracting muscles wrestling with the merciless cock to hold it inside. 

His tone is dark. Vicious. “Tight. So tight!”

It makes your greedy body want even more. “Oh, good job, Raptor. Such a good boy.” You praise him, feeling the brief falter in his movements. He really does like that. “Go ahead and take it all, as much as you need-ah. Don’t worry about me. Fuck me until I can’t think.”

The violent sex stops and you’re being ripped away from that wondrous cock in the blink of an eye. Before you can even question what’s happening, your world begins to spin until you’re suddenly on the floor. You’re getting adjusted onto your hands and knees right before being pierced again with a force that shoves you forward. 

Your thoughts struggle to keep up with the lightning-fast sequence of events, hindered even more by the warmth of the body hovering right over you. Hawks too was on all fours, though he looked much more comfortable and natural, wings fully spread out in a proud and dominant display as he throbbed inside of you. 

His hips snap forward, already at a rapid pace that rocks you with each hard impact and soon has you howling again. The floor was filled with uneven cracks and scratches that scraped your knees, not that the discomfort was easy to notice while you were being drilled into. As you latched onto one of his arms for support, you noticed right in front of you, was your first game of tic tac toe.

Drool dripped down from the snarling jaws above you and onto the innocent group of lines and shapes.

The mounting beast humped you with every ounce of energy he had. Your aching pussy couldn’t take it. Too hard...too big... you’re cumming again around his pistoning cock, moans melting into defeated sobs. The huge pair of swinging balls occasionally smacked right into your oversensitive clit. You were losing the will to hold yourself up, gripping his supportive arm more tightly while your thighs quivered. Even if you had the strength to, you had no plans to ask the feral savage to stop.

He currently wasn’t anything like the gentle experiment you’ve befriended in just a few days. Right now, with his head thrashing around and flinging spittle everywhere as he barked, and wings beating hard against the floor, he was terrifying. Powerful, hungry, and single-minded.

So this is what it’s like to give in to a nomu.

It’s scary.

It’s thrilling.

Every fast agonizing stroke right against your cervix takes your breath away, your mouth eventually just hanging open in an attempt to capture whatever oxygen it could into your lungs. Hawks curls into himself so that he can crane his neck and look at you, saliva flowing freely down his chin. Each breath came out as a throaty growl wafting against your sweaty face. He takes one look at your parted lips, and stuffs you with his tongue.

If your thoughts were more coherent at the moment, you’d wonder how the hell the muscle was strong enough to be able to move into your throat as hard as the dick that continued to wreck your insides. His hips assisted in gagging you even more with each thrust. The threat of asphyxiation only brought you closer to your next orgasm. 

Your mind was empty, save for the immoral thoughts that have long since driven off their more honorable competition. 

Just use me.

Your entire body was on fire, getting pummeled from both ends.

Just use me however the fuck you want.

Hawks is suddenly bombarding your cunt with short and speedy ruts of his hips, and that does it. Your limbs give out and leave you to plop onto the floor as your pleasure blooms all over. But his long tongue follows you, still pushing into your whimpering mouth to deprive you of much-needed air. He simply lowers himself and proceeds to fuck you hard into the ground, pressing your skin into his many carvings.

His tongue leaves...your eyes rolling back….

Hawks releases a horrid cry that sounds like both a roar and a bird-like shriek.

Exhaustion…

Hawks is too lost in the surprising sensations, dull but still intense, to realize that he’s shooting his thick load into your womb

Warmth...full...sleep.

x---x---x---x---x

“Get up.”

The voice is muffled as you slowly come to. Whatever you’re resting on doesn’t feel like your bed.

“I know you’re awake. Hurry and get up.”

You’re surrounded by warmth, by something breathing. Pain shoots through your back and legs when you stir. When you open your eyes, you see the golden eyes of a High End.

The fear does well in masking your aches as you scramble out of the arms of what turned out to be Hawks, who was lounging on his side like a giant cat.

And standing at the door, was the damned doctor that you had the privilege of seeing every day.

His stare looked even more judgmental than it usually did. Full-on disgusted, actually. Realizing that you’re still naked, you grab one of Hawks’s wings that were splayed out on the floor to shield yourself.

He simply shakes his head. “I’ve already seen enough. And heard enough.”

Oh shit.

Oh shit.

“I-I…” you stammer, panic rising in your chest as you’re unable to come up with any sort of explanation. You even turn to Hawks, like he’d somehow provide you with the answer.

“I normally don’t care what deplorable methods you people use to collect your samples, but going by the filth between your legs...” That prompts you to look down, and the second you do, you already feel a dense fluid oozing out of you and running down your legs that were stained with white. “...you actually allowed Raptor to inseminate you.”

His words, along with your accelerating heartbeat, thunders in your ears. Hawks is watching his seed leak from your raw pussy. He remains still and quiet, uncertain of how to act in the presence of a doctor.

“To think that someone would deliberately let a nomu breed them. I know that the two of you have gotten close,” His eyes skimmed past the many images and markings in the room. “But just how depraved do you have to be to go this far with a nomu?”

If this was before the days you allowed Hawks to touch you, you would have felt embarrassed. You are scared. Not only did he cum inside you, you’ve also been caught right after the act.

But any sort of shame?

You had the nerve to huff, still hiding your body from him not out of shyness, but because the asshole didn’t deserve the view. “I guess we’re all sick fucks around here,” you retort.

The glare on his glasses add to the intimidation factor of his glower. He takes a step forward and gives a quick tilt of his head. “Get dressed. You’re coming with me.”

Both you and Hawks are taken back. “For what?”

He scowls even harder. “Still asking questions? You’re lucky that you’re valuable right now. You have most likely been impregnated. This is an unexpected opportunity to observe one of Raptor’s offspring. We’ll be watching over you until the birth.”

You don’t move, still soaking in every word. This most definitely was a mistake. Not only are you going to be taken away from Hawks to be cooped up in a room with constant surveillance, you’re going to have a...fuck.

You feel the wing in your grasp vibrate softly, Hawks sensing your distress and attempting to silently reassure you.

“I said get dressed,” the doctor ordered impatiently. “Or are you still basking in the afterglow?” He snickered at his own joke before walking forward, ready to take you by force.

That’s when the nomu in the room finally stood up to step right in front of you, standing tall in all of his naked glory and easily towering over the man.

You had to give the guy credit for not looking phased by the very dangerous creature blocking his path. Then again, maybe he was just so sure that Hawks wouldn’t harm him in any way.

“Out of the way, Raptor.” Strong and firm. It’s the tone that ensures a nomu’s obedience, but you know by now that Hawks’s mind has grown beyond that.

As expected, Hawks doesn’t budge, still looking down with eyes of liquid gold.

The doctor only looks more annoyed, not afraid. “I knew you were defective,” he sneered. “Always hesitating during tests. Such wasted potential, yet the others insist on keeping you around. To do what? Decorate rooms? The idiots should have altered your brain by now.”

What? 

Hawks still didn’t move. The lack of reaction was beginning to get to the man’s nerves, his hands balling into fists as he contemplated what action to take next. You stayed mostly hidden behind Hawks, anxiously looking past his wings.

When he accepted that the nomu wasn’t going to move, and forcing his way past him was too dangerous of an option, he smirked. “Fine, then. You’re only making yourself look worse. I’m certain I can convince them to move forward with that operation after they see how defiant you’re being right now.”

No! You feel so damn useless. The bastard wanted to change him into something more compliant. How much would that change Hawks himself? You don’t know if there’s anything you can do that won’t just end with you being thrown into the lion’s den. 

The doctor placed two fingers to his temple. Fuck, his quirk. 

“Backup needed in South Hall, room five o’ ni-”

He stopped. Pure shock took over his face, words replaced with the faintest choked sounds. You truly considered asking if he was feeling alright.

Until a thin line of red appeared at his throat, blood oozing out, the bleeding getting heavier by the second.

“What. The. Fuck?”  Your breaths were becoming too short as you watched him crumple, the liquid crimson quickly pooling around him. “What the fuck is going on?”

The confusion and fear was making you delirious. God, you were going to pass out again, this is too fucking much, this asshole was about to take you away because you have a monster growing inside you and then he was going to turn Hawks into a regular High End but now he’s dead but who the fuck killed him and what’s about to happen to you-

“Calm.”

A large hand on your shoulder grounds you, steadying your breathing and expanding your tunnel vision. Hawks is in front of you, releasing soft coos.

“Wha–how–wha…” Your shaky lips are unable to form words, but he seems to understand. Something materializes right in front of you. Small, black, and sharp. It’s a feather, floating between the both of you. “What?” You finally spit out.

“Camouflage,” that’s all he says, as if that explains everything. Since when was he able t-

Whatever. There’s too much shit happening right now.

Still shaking, you look to see the doctor still bleeding, some of the blood flowing into the engravings and painting them red.

“Y-you killed him?” You whisper.

He nods, staring apathetically at the body.

“But, I thought you didn’t…” You trailed off, too stunned by everything that has happened to finish.

He turned his attention back to you, red irises – as red as the blood that continued flow – staring into your frightened eyes. “It gets easier.”

Once again,  you’re not sure what to say to that.

He looks to the door. “More coming soon.”

Right, whoever the doctor was contacting must be wondering why his telepathy was suddenly cut off.

“I want to leave.”

“Leave? Like, you want to escape?” Another nod. “That’s...I don’t know if that’s possible. There are villains around here. Strong villains. Shit, they might release some of the nomu on us!” 

“You want to stay?”

Your mouth opens, then closes.

“I’m strong, and fast.” His wings unfurl and sharpen every feather, his tail curling around you so that you can see the knifelike plumes on it. “Can heal very fast and blend in. Can do a lot.”

The display and simple explanation reminds you that you haven’t seen any of his combative skills firsthand. This is what they made him for.

Well then…

“Right, then how about we give them a final test?” Just when you were finally calming down, adrenaline is already being pumped back into your veins. “Let’s show them how unstoppable their latest work is.”

His little peep of agreement nearly ruined the moment, but it reminds you why you’ve grown so fond of him.

He turns around and crouches, motioning you to climb onto his back and wrap your arms around his neck. It was awkward, mostly due to the wings that you were squishing under you, but when you voiced your worries he just gave you an “It’s fine.” He warned you to hang on extra tightly whenever he gets low to the ground. He’s a much faster runner on all fours.

Stepping over the corpse that has bled dry, he stopped at the door and braced himself. 

“Ready?”

Your arms and legs were secured around him. You breathed in through your nose then out through your mouth. 

Breath in. Breathe out.

A lot of death and destruction is probably about to come your way.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

It would be great if you never had to fill another jar ever again.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Your clammy skin hasn’t felt sunlight in fucking forever. Are the heroes even still alive out there?

Breathe in. Breathe out.

You try not to think about what’s happening in your womb.

“I’m ready.”

The door is pushed open. 

x---x---x---x---x

Targets first spotted at 12:50

The old surveillance cameras flicker and lag. It makes noticing the running black figure all the more difficult. On most screens, you’ll see nothing more than a blur. There will be the occasional confrontation with villains, sometimes accompanied by researchers with incapacitation quirks. More often than not, the escapees easily outmaneuver them, crawling and leaping on every surface and zooming past their potential captors before they can even follow.

Some of the stronger villains and nomu slow the duo down only briefly before they collapse from an unseen force. The recovered bodies possessed deep cuts across major arteries or accurate punctures in their major organs.

Some footage shows the two sometimes climbing into vents, temporarily escaping the cameras.

The woman on the High End’s back was injured during the fatal showdown at the hospital’s exit, enraging it to the point where it swiftly killed everyone in its vicinity, including fleeing researchers that were only caught in the crossfire.

Targets escaped facility at 13:09

x---x---x---x---x

Subject: Raptor

SUBJECT HAS ESCAPED. NOMU IS HIGHLY DANGEROUS. TAKE EVERY PRECAUTION IN RETRIEVING IT.

Some things are too good to be true. It turned out that Raptor’s brain has, shall we say, faulty wiring. Several observations have noted him hesitating upon certain commands. This should not be a constant problem with any High End. I don’t understand why they did not immediately work on this issue. It’s possible that they feared irreversible changes to his unique mind.

I personally believe that many of these flaws are the result of a compassionate host. The hero Hawks was unmistakably a gifted combatant, probably the most gifted individual the facility has gotten their hands on, but his attitude did not translate well into the role of a nomu. On the bright side, I never thought I’d ever see nomu, let alone a High End, show such genuine fondness over a human. I believe it’s worth another try in the future.

But for now, we should stick to what works. There are more than enough lowly criminals to go around.

[plasma-studios]

Real or Not Real? || Marc Spector/Steven Grant Angst-fic

Summary:

Set in Episode Five but the timing of some scenes may be off. Marc and Steven. One was the first. The other...were they truly real? This question danced around Steven's mind, then you know happened. And Marc was left in shambles.   Also, yes, I'm aware that alters are each their own real person, however, Steven's starting to incorrectly think otherwise and I'm using this as an angst opportunity. In the end, I try to make it a little more obvious that both Steven and Marc are separate, real people, but it might not appear obvious. -

Steven had known for some time. Or did he? He didn't know, maybe he was just always in denial.

Real...

The word swam around his (their?) mind. Who was the real one? Steven, or Marc? Or were neither of them real? real? real?  He now knew Marc was the original; the real one. Steven was just someone he made up. Heh...just something. A puppet.  Oh god, oh god no. He- he needed to know the truth- the truth? What truth? That he was just...made up? That he never existed? He was just a fictional thing? 

Heh... he was. He was, wasn't he? He tried to deny it. Oh, he did. But then that- that arsehole Arthur had to blow this whole thing up!

Real, real...

One by one, the walls, the lies, the facade crumbled. 

"Mom's dead." And they found themselves back onto the ship. 

"I'm so sorry, I was rooting for you, I really was."

Taweret's voice was white noise, her good intentions meaning less than nothing.

Then the first clambered onto the ship, its intentions clear as day. Ah, yes, now the dead were coming to collect them. Deliver them to the underworld.

Real...

"Hide, Steven!" Marc backed up too, eyeing the creatures reaching closer and closer to them

Real...

"Real what?" Steven whispered to himself.

He stared at Marc, attacking and dodging them as their pale hands reached forwards, dragging...no, leave him alone! He's the real one, leave him alone! A grunt escaped Marc, struggling to find a way out. Fear blossomed stronger than ever, yes, even stronger than when Steven saw the butt of the shotgun- the bullet plunging into their chest-

Marc needed help.

Steven's hands seemed to move without him realising, stirring the ship, beating seven shades of actual dust out of those....those..creatures?

Real...

Shut it, shut it...Steven smiled weakly at the other. Marc stared in surprise.

A memory surfaced from what seemed like a lifetime ago. 'It's the same body, innit? Muscle memory and...and all that.'

Real, real...

A cold hand wrapped around Marc's neck. He jerked up, then the hoard was upon him.

Real, real...

No. MARC!

Steven's mind was a mess, a chaotic mess, in shambles. 

Without thinking, without blinking, Steven lunged forward, arms ready to pull Marc back, help him, save him from the underworld.

Real. 

It shot through the chaos like a fresh bullet. Only this—this— held the promise of life, not death.

Well, not Marc's at least.  Real.

A small smile played on Steven's lips. The weight was shifting to him, he could feel their fingers clawing in, Marc's eyes hardening as realisatio dawned on him.

Goodbye, Marc.

And Steven was thrown off the ship, the creature not far behind.

He landed in the sand, dazed.

"STEVEN!" He tensed up, realising what every human does in their last moment.

I'm about to die.

"STEVEN!" His vision was blurring, every sense just screaming at him to get to Marc.

He ran, following the ship as Marc had his hands outstretched in a fruitless attempt to rescue the other.

I don't want to die.  Marc's name had been on the tip of Steven's tongue for so long, a silent scream as the dead clambered over Marc just a moment ago.

"Marc!" And so he ran, running for a rescue he knew would never happen. Already, he could feel his limbs stiffening.  He stopped in his tracks, knowing it was inevitable. His eyes searched upwards, meeting Marc's as he frantically tried to save the other.

Cold. The stone was so cold.

Steven was ready to give in. 

"Your scales balanced!"

And Steven let go.

The last of Marc's desperate screams entering earshot right before the sweet, blissful oblivion of death.

Marc found himself in the fields. Golden crops dancing in the breeze. With Marc. 

Just Marc. He doubled over, desperate sobs slashing their way out. Steven...Steven...

A scream clawed its way out.  Another person's blood spilt on his blood soaked hands.

His fault, his fault...

Real? Who's real, you ask? Both are real. Steven and Marc are both real.

Real.

But now as Marc lay in the Field of Reeds alone, he willed everything to be anything but real.

Please, please let it be not real.

But it was.

It was true, it was real.

Both of them.

Real.

Real.

A second scream tore its way out, raw and anguished.

Do you want to know what was real? That Marc was alone now.

[starlessea]

𝙎𝙩𝙚𝙥 𝙤𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙂𝙖𝙨 - Chapter 1. Is It A Bird?

A/N Make sure you read the prologue before, or this chapter might not make sense!

Series Masterlist: Step on the Gas

Summary: A dishonourable discharge from the military results in you being hauled off to live with your grandparents in the boonies, otherwise known as the middle of nowhere Georgia. After running over a nail on the road, and pushing your grandpa's vintage Camaro to the nearest auto-shop, you meet Daryl Dixon - the local mechanic. At some point, the world ends, but that stubborn man never gives you a chance to slow down. His smile gives you whiplash, but he still insists that you to step on the gas.

Words: 4869

Chapter Warnings: Language, Injury

You watched the bird fly from behind the clear glass, level with the top floors of the office building.

You followed it the best you could, walking the stretch of the room alongside it. The window was long and wide, filling the wall entirely. This whole section of the building was made of glass, and stood tall against the skyline — so that you could often see the flocks of birds that flew by.

Though, it wasn’t as tall as the ones closer to the inner city.

No, this was more of a dwarfed skyscraper.

You reached the end of the office, and placed your hands up against the cool glass as the bird continued onwards — leaving you behind. Below, the street seemed desolate, just as the sky now did. There wasn’t a single soul lurking down there — but you didn’t trust your eyes in the slightest. Especially not here.

You needed a better view. You needed a bird’s-eye view.

The fire escape steps were rickety, and metal flakes crumbled beneath your feet. They had rusted from the rain, and you tried not to think about how precariously they squeaked as you made your ascent to the roof. You’d done it before, but every time felt worse than the last.

You just couldn’t shake the feeling that they’d cave beneath you — and laugh their squeaky laughs as they sent you plummeting to the ground.

You reached the top, and felt the breeze on your cheek as you scaled the roof courtyard. Up here, everything seemed untouched. It always had done. This high up, people would look like mere ants — harmless, and far enough away that it didn’t matter if they weren’t.

The wind blew, and you stared out towards the building parallel to the corporate one you were currently standing on. It had been a hotel once. But now its roof held something far more valuable than deckchairs and a cocktail bar.

There she was, you smiled, and what a beauty indeed.

It was an army helicopter, sat perfectly still against the horizon — like a bird nesting. It was a camo green, but it didn’t camouflage against the greyish sky in the slightest. Though, it did seem like it belonged there; it was a hawk after all.

A Sikorsky Hawk, to be more specific.

You’d never flown her type before, but she’d been there ever since you first took refuge in the building, like an abandoned bird in an abandoned city. The army had been the first to flee, after all — or the first to die. Either way, the hawk had sat alone for nearly two months, teasing you.

You should have just stayed in Georgia.

It was only meant to be a weekend trip, but somehow you’d gotten stranded in Atlanta during the end of the world. You would have cursed your luck, but then again you were lucky enough to get stuck on the outskirts — only narrowly missing the bombs as they reigned down upon the city.

It was like a meteor shower. Except, instead of falling stars, it had been napalm.

You could remember it perfectly. First the power had gone out, then the water mains dried up, and finally the food whittled down to nothing. You’d hopped from building to building until you came across this corporate graveyard — which had enough supplies to keep you alive for a few weeks. But you should have just left Atlanta whilst you had the chance.

This tower had lulled you in with the promise of safety, but had kept you trapped there ever since.

Walking closer to the roof’s edge, you glanced along the building in the distance. You’d checked it a dozen times now — mapping out all of its exits to try and find a way inside. You had to be prepared. After all, it wasn’t like you could just wait until you got there. Your boot hit the fencing, and you felt the urge to peer over the railing at the alley below.

Don’t look down, you told yourself — but you always did.

A narrow sidestreet separated the office block from the hotel. There was a fence at one end, secured with a thick padlock, whilst the other was open. That would have been fine on its own; except, the biters had all stumbled into the alley as though it were a cattle cage — and couldn’t figure out how to leave once they were there.

Dumb fucks, you thought, watching them pile up against the gate as though it were a concert barrier.

Almost every day, you’d come to see that helicopter — separated by a channel of the undead, their heads bobbing like ripples on the surface of water — and every day you’d turn around and head back down the fire escape.

Your stomach gurgled, and you let out a sigh. The stale lunchroom cereal had recently run empty. You felt for your pistol in your back pocket — the one you’d managed to get a hold of during the initial outbreak.

Six bullets, you counted, before slipping it back into your jeans.

You smiled at the irony.

“Six!” you yelled at the man, placing your card face-up on the bar. “It’s my lucky number.”

Dixon knocked back his whiskey and grimaced as it went down. Joe’s was practically empty by now, but the man lingered about like the aftertaste of your drink — waiting for your shift to end.

“An’ why’s that?” he asked, not looking up from his own hand.

You smiled — the alcohol making you loose-lipped.

“It was your closing time. Six in the evening,” you explained, waiting for him to lay his last card. “But you still fixed up the Camaro anyway.”

Your fingertips rested along the hem of the jacket, feeling the worn leather. The air was stiflingly warm, but you kept it on. After all, it still smelled faintly of the man who’d given it to you.

Like whiskey and gasoline.

Atlanta had gone still and quiet, leaving you to your thoughts as you stood on that rooftop — trying to be brave. Military training was meant to beat that into a person, but maybe you’d gone soft since then. After all, you always preferred to stay above the action than be in the midst of it.

Six bullets, a Hawk, and a cattle grid filled with biters.

You laughed. Everything interesting always seemed to happen on a Tuesday.

Glancing over your shoulder at the bird once more, you tried to ignore the way your stomach dropped and your palms sweat. It was probably from the heat, you tried to tell yourself, but you knew better than that.

“I guess today’s the day,” you said, to no one in particular.

Then, you began to descend that rickety fire escape once again — because what goes up must always come down.

//

What you hadn’t realised, is that the same could be said for that Sikorsky Hawk, which spat you out of the sky like you didn’t deserve to be there.

When you finally came back around — after drifting in and out of consciousness for what felt like much too long — all you could smell was burning rubber.

That’s not good, you thought, as you blinked your eyes open.

Black smoke hung thick in the air, melding with the orange flames that flickered in the distance and caught the trees.

Those damn trees.

You hissed curses through your teeth as the pain finally kicked into gear — albeit a bit delayed. In your haziness, you’d barely realised how precarious your situation was. Like a puppet on a string, you dangled from the branches of a tall, leafless tree — caught by your parachute wires.

Your breaths were shallow and strained, and you slowly lifted a hand — the one not tangled in the cords — to feel your stomach.

Blood.

It was shrapnel from the crash. It stung like a bitch, and would probably need stitches. Well, it would if you could get down in the first place.

You glanced up at your other arm, eyes stinging from the brightness of the sky.

That doesn’t look right either, you grimaced.

It had gotten caught during the fall, and had twisted at an unnatural angle which only made you wince as you tried to free it. Like a marionette, if you plucked those wires ever so slightly, your whole body flailed.

The radios whirred below you, letting out a continuous note of high-pitched static as they caught alight. It reminded you of the screeching of wheels as they spun over tarmac — or something like that.

But, then you saw a man.

And the man saw you.

At first, you barely recognised him without his oil-stained work clothes — wrench in hand. But at the same time, he seemed to blend in perfectly with this new world. He had a crossbow slung over his back, and a rope of limp squirrels looped around his shoulder. A natural born hunter, indeed.

With numb toes, and blood rushing to your head, you called out to him hoarsely — hoping that he’d spot you perched among the trees.

“Dixon,” you spoke, and winced straight after.

Your voice didn’t even sound like your own.

Still, the man whipped around, and stared straight through you as though he were looking at a ghost.

“How’s it hanging?” you teased, and recognition flashed on his face.

It had taken him a while to cut you down, untwisting your limbs delicately from the cables. But once you were free, he carried you in his arms — like some trophy game from his hunting trip.

Then, he noticed the wound.

The mechanic looked down at you helplessly. He still hadn’t said a single word, but his eyes told you everything you needed to know. They rested on your hands — which were pressed down firmly to stop the bleeding — before trailing back up to your face.

He looked older than you remembered, and more hardened. And he didn’t view you with the same shy curiosity as before — you had noticed.

No. This was sadness.

You brought a hand up from your stomach and touched it to his cheek. He flinched at the contact, but didn’t pull away.

You could swear he even leaned into it.

His mousy stubble tickled your palm, and only then did you realise the bloody fingerprints you’d left behind on his skin. You let your head flop against the man’s chest, your ear pressed to his pounding heartbeat.

“Today really isn’t my day,” you murmured there, and he started walking.

//

You watched the sky the whole way back.

It looked so different from the sky in Atlanta. There were no hulking skyscrapers blocking it, nor fast food billboards that had begun to peel away. And there were far more birds flying by — the real kind, not any Sikorsky Hawks.

Dixon remained completely silent, except for when he’d occasionally remind you to keep pressure on that wound. He moved quickly, but he seemed lost in thought — lacking the usual bite you remembered.

He also seemed to have lost his words, you thought.

But then you reached a clearing.

You could hear the commotion before you saw it; there was some rustling behind the trees, accompanied by dry shouts and the clanging of metal. You glanced up at the man carrying you for answers, but he didn’t once look down.

Daryl stepped out into the open air, and squinted from the sunlight. You did the same, turning your head into his chest for some cover from it.

“Ya can drop yer weapons,” you heard him say.

Well, more like felt — since the vibrations rumbled against your cheek.

“Unless yer plannin’ on offing me with tha’ shovel,” he snapped.

There he was, you smiled, that was the Dixon you recognised.

You could feel his heart thumping as he spoke, and you had to coax yourself away to take a look at the scene for yourself.

A group of people holding spades, a bashed-in biter, and a mauled deer.

You laughed. Fucking Tuesdays.

Except, the laugh trailed off into a wheeze as the pain started up, and the blood poured.

Daryl quickly kicked into gear with urgency, and brushed off the group as they tried to ask their questions. “Someone best go get Merle off his lazy ass,” he yelled, “tell him his favourite helicopter pilot jus’ crash landed ‘ere.”

Your head snapped up at his words.

Merle Dixon, too? You weren’t sure you could handle them both.

Except, nobody moved to go and retrieve the older brother. Instead, a small asian man stepped forward — removing his baseball cap and wringing it in his hands.

“I can’t believe it,” he announced, eyes locked on you, “helicopter boy was telling the truth!”

You squinted at his words, trying to make sense of them amidst the heatstroke and blood loss.

But, you didn’t have to try for long. A second man stepped out from behind the frontline of people, also parting with his obnoxiously large hat as he did so. Except, this was no baseball cap; this was a damn country midwestern cowboy hat.

The badge in the centre of it caught the light and beamed it back directly into your eyes, making you cower away. The man shucked his hands into his pockets, and only then did you catch sight of him fully — clad in his King County Sheriff’s Department uniform .

Great, you sighed, letting your head flop back over Daryl’s arm. A fucking cop.

Dixon’s jaw clenched, too. You saw it above you — tensing.

“You come from Atlanta?” the officer questioned, “earlier today?”

That caught your attention. He’d been in Atlanta, too?

You definitely hadn’t seen any survivors on the flight over. But then again, it would’ve been nearly impossible to distinguish the dead from the living at that altitude. You swallowed thickly, and nodded.

“What happened to you?” he pressed.

The group’s chatter had died to a silence, and even Daryl seemed to await your answer.

“Engine failed,” you croaked, parched from a lack of water. “Couldn’t control the descent so I had to jump,” you cursed the last part, “too many trees.”

Then, you pinched Daryl’s arm lightly — feeling woozy from the sun. He nodded, and wordlessly stepped over the rotting corpse near his boot.

“You two know each other?” a voice interrupted, “and you just happened to find her?”

You didn’t like this man’s eyes; you hadn’t since you’d first caught a glimpse of them. He had dark, bouffant hair that seemed far too prim for the end of the world, and was wearing light cargo pants.

Then you noticed the dog tags hanging from his neck, and the combat boots which matched what you knew to be police-issued training gear.

Seriously, you thought, another one?

Daryl didn’t seem particularly fond of the guy, either, because he narrowed his eyes at him in the same way he did the biter at his feet. He looked as though he was considering ignoring him completely. And you couldn’t blame him.

It wasn’t like you were bleeding out, or anything.

“Was trackin’ tha’ deer,” he responded, toeing the dead animal with his boot. “Seen the bird go down an’ followed it.”

Daryl readjusted his grip on you, and you groaned from his heavy-handedness. But you didn’t miss his guilty expression.

After all, he probably tried to be gentle.

“An’ there she was, jus’ swingin’ from tha' tree like a big ol' piñata,” he finished — that southern drawl thick on his tongue.

You watched the other man’s jaw shift as though he were chewing on a bee, and spit at the ground like it had stung his mouth.

“You’re telling me that she crashed a damn helicopter in our backyard?” he barked, narrowing in on you with those sharp, dark eyes. “Drawing walkers from all over?”

Daryl shifted where he stood, making the leather of your jacket squeak as it rubbed together. You were beginning to feel like tinfoil in a microwave — cooking slowly in the sun as you waited for the men to finish brooding.

“Ya hear ‘nything?” the mechanic asked of the group, who turned away from his intense gaze one-by-one. “Din’t think so,” he spat, and you could practically hear his thoughts.

What a bunch of cowards.

“Was in the bow of the woods,” Daryl went on, eyeing the dark-haired man where he stood. “Land dips in at either side, like a noise tunnel.”

He paused, his eyes briefly flicking up to the sky as though seeing the scene once more.

“Only ones hearin’ it were the ones a’ready there.”

Daryl juggled you in his arms again, probably aching from the long trek, and seemed antsy to finally escape those heavy stares. But then, the man shook his head — as though remembering something.

“Now where’s my damn brother?” he growled.

And everyone’s eyes fell straight to the ground, like birds swooping down from the sky.

//

It would be an understatement to say that Daryl Dixon had exploded at the news.

He went nuclear.

If you hadn’t been in his arms at the time, you were certain that someone would’ve been on the receiving end of Daryl’s right hook. You’d seen it before, after all. That man wasn’t exactly one to pull his punches.

But, luckily, you had been there — crumpled in on yourself as the white hot pain also reached nuclear levels.

And so, you were ushered into a small, greyish tent that smelled faintly of oil and gasoline — and the unfortunate alcoholic stench of Merle Dixon — and stripped out of your jacket by a woman who tried her best to quell the bleeding.

But even then, you could still hear the storm raging outside the thin canvas material — the storm that went by the name of Dixon. He’d never shown that sort of temper around you before, so it came as a shock to see it brewing for yourself.

Yells competed with each other outside the tent walls, as a woman with short, greyish hair politely tended to your wounds — pretending she couldn’t hear anything at all.

But, you heard it and bolted upright, straight as an arrow.

Merle Dixon had been chained to a roof like a dog in Atlanta.

What fucking irony.

The smoking ban had loomed over rural Georgia for a while now, but it fell on the deaf ears of the regulars. They still smoked their thickly rolled cigars, and cheap cartons of cigarettes — clogging up the bar and your lungs every time you took a breath.

Dixon sat on the stool, watching as you wiped down the chestnut oak covered in sticky beer rings, and pulled new drinks for the impatient men twice your age. He was mulling over a particularly hard whiskey that day, but wouldn’t tell you the reason behind it.

So, you continued with your rounds until another man approached you, and took the only free seat beside the mechanic.

Big mistake, you smirked, and awaited his reaction.

Daryl Dixon shared barspace with no one - hence, the free seats on an otherwise crowded Friday night. Except, he did nothing but shoot the stranger a side-eyed glance, before returning to his whiskey that needed a top-up on ice.

The newcomer let his eyes slide down over you, in that sleazy way you’d become familiar with by now. He ran his tongue along the front of his teeth and tilted his head back in an exaggerated display of bravado.

And you snorted; you just couldn’t help it.

He scowled at you in response, as his gaze rested on the bare skin of your neck.

“Military dog,” he spat, despite your lack of tags, “where's yer collar?"

Beside him, the mechanic’s jaw clenched as he looked up from the ice melting in his glass.

You laughed. “Howdy, redneck, where’s your cousin?”

And Daryl choked on that same ice.

Surprisingly, the bitterness all but faded away from the unknown man’s face — as he seemed to take your comment in jest. He smirked, and wacked Daryl on the back forcefully as he hacked up his whiskey — yelling something about it being too damn expensive to go shooting out all over the bar.

You couldn’t understand the situation. You’d never seen Daryl act like that with anyone at Joe’s — let alone this particular breed of asshole.

“Feisty, jus’ how I like ‘em,” the stranger quipped back, sending a wink at you that lingered on your skin.

You pulled a face, and went back to wiping down the bar — careful not to lean over too much.

“Knock it off, Merle would’ya?” Daryl shot back, his voice rising in pitch over the name.

The other man — Merle — grinned, before clapping Daryl over the back once more. “No promises, lil’ brother,” he teased.

Then, he knocked back a drink you were certain he must’ve snuck in — because you sure as hell hadn’t poured it for him — and disappeared into the sea of drunkards playing pool and throwing darts haphazardly.

You froze, glancing over to the mechanic.

“That’s your brother? I’m so sorry-”

“Don’ worry ‘bout it,” he interrupted, before finishing his whiskey and handing you the empty glass. “Asshole deserved it.”

Back then, you saw no resemblance between Daryl and Merle Dixon — but, families always had a strange hold over a person. After all, that was the reason why you’d gotten shipped off to Georgia in the first place; your parents had swept you under the rug like a bad kept secret — simply to try and keep up appearances.

You’d followed your brother into the military, only for it to spit you back out and leave a bad taste in everyone’s mouths afterwards.

The tent door unzipped, and flapped as it caught the evening breeze.

Daryl entered like a hurricane, startling the woman — Carol — as she tended to you. He was followed by an entourage of curious faces who watched as he toed his boots off, and kicked them to the side.

“All of ya best get out,” he grumbled, as he peeled off his leather vest and set it down next to you — his eyes focused on your white shirt that had since been dyed red.

The group seemed to register his words, but no one made the move to leave.

The man let out a frustrated grunt, before fumbling with the small first-aid box near your feet. “Need to give ‘er stitches, an’ I ain’t need no one breathin’ down my neck,” he said, scowling down at the supplies.

You swallowed thickly, that didn’t sound very convincing.

A blonde woman near the tent entrance seemed to think the same, because she chirped up.

“You know how to do that?” she questioned — braver than any of the men who stood in stunned silence.

Daryl’s jaw set. “Y’ain’t believe me?” he bit back. “Think ‘m only good for spittin’ on the ground an’ feedin’ ya damn squirrels?”

The same woman recoiled at his words, and you sighed.

Always had a bark much worse than his bite, that one.

But then the man reached over for the hem of your shirt and you just froze — before slapping his hand away. He also recoiled with the same, exaggerated movements, and scowled at you as though your touch had burnt him.

You wanted to trust him, but part of you just couldn’t.

Daryl must’ve caught the look in your eyes — and recognised it for himself — because he sighed and shook his head, and glanced over at the women nearby.

“Anyone else know how to give stitches ‘round ‘ere?” he demanded, but the majority shook their heads.

All except one.

“I think I-” Carol piped up, before a burly man shot her a look so boldly threatening that it even made you flinch.

The woman paused over her words, before eventually shaking her head.

“I don’t. I’m sorry,” she mumbled, timidly, before that same man slipped his hand in hers and pulled her away.

You recognised that look, too.

And so the rest of the stragglers disappeared from the tent one-by-one, until only you and Daryl remained — deadlocked.

“C’mon, Camaro, quit yer bitchin’,” he coaxed, his voice more soft now that it was just the two of you. “Unless ya wanna bleed out o’er my tent.”

He had the needle and thread all prepared between his fingers, waiting for your permission.

You sighed. “You used to be a lot nicer, you know that?” you remarked, thinking back to the Dixon who shyly smoked cigarettes on that cliff’s edge, watching you like you were brighter than the stars.

You had noticed.

Then, you lifted up your shirt with your trembling hand, as he pressed onto your skin with his steady one.

And so Daryl gave you stitches — filling you up on Merle’s stash of whiskey to dull the pain — and muttering how, despite his work not being pretty, it’d be functional. You didn’t question how he’d come to learn how to sew butterfly stitches in the first place, thinking it best not to ask, nor did you comment on how gentle he wiped away the blood.

Always a man of his word, Daryl Dixon’s stitches were definitely not pretty.

But, to you, they looked like constellations.

He’d made it clear how lucky you’d been that it was only a surface injury; if it were anything deeper, he wouldn’t have been able to patch you up. It was probably thanks to that thick jacket that you’d managed to walk away from the crash mostly unscathed.

You’d seen him eyeing it occasionally as he worked, glancing over at the bloody leather that stained his tent floor.

Like hell would you be giving it back.

After that, he’d also managed to sneak Carol back inside — away from who you could only guess to be her husband. She’d told you that your arm wasn’t broken, but in fact dislocated, and helped set it back into place as your eyes stung with salt tears.

But you couldn’t complain.

After all, they’d tried to put you back together like humpty dumpty after your crash — albeit with staples and scotch tape.

Though, as soon as you were out of the woods and in the clear, Daryl pulled his boots back on and collected his things impatiently — not even sparing you a second glance.

“Where are you going?” you asked quietly, afraid of the answer.

Your words left your mouth a bit slurred from the medical-whiskey concoction, but he only pretended not to hear them.

You asked again, until he finally responded. “‘M goin’ to get my damn brother back, where’d ya think?” he answered, frustration laced in his voice.

He stuffed a few things into his rucksack, before slinging it over his shoulder.

“Careful, Dixon,” you cautioned, “you have a habit of finding yourself in a mess when you let your temper get the best of you.”

The man scoffed, and made a point of looking you up and down — calling you hypocritical with his eyes alone.

“Don’ act like ya know me tha’ well,” he growled, startling you with his tone.

But, you couldn’t blame him for his words.

After all, you’d spent more time apart than you had together.

The man sighed. “Gotta go get Merle,” he reasoned, more carefully this time.

He flickered open the tent, and let in the sky. It was not yet black, but a burnt orange, as though preparing to be set alight with stars. It reminded you of those evenings you’d get to close up early, and walk past a certain auto-shop that still had its amber lights turned on, and its door wide open.

And the former mechanic started walking away, leaving you behind out on the sidewalk.

“Daryl-” you called after him.

The word spilled from your mouth like beer overflowing from a glass — pouring over before you could stop it.

He glanced back immediately.

You never called him that.

Even though you knew his name from other people’s tongues, he’d always been Dixon — ever since the moment you read it on his shoddy name-tag. Not once during the month you’d spent with him had you called him Daryl.

Not until now.

“It’s getting dark out,” you whispered, even though the sky was still clearly orange.

You swallowed the dryness from your throat — and with it, your pride.

“Please stay? Until morning?”

Dixon looked back at you, swaddled in one of his clean shirts that he’d buttoned up himself — making you look so small.

And he sighed. He always was the worst liar of them all.

“Jus’ ‘til mornin’,” he repeated, trudging back to that grey tent.

Then, he took a seat beside you, his knees knocking against yours. But you tried to fight against your smile, and racing heart that pounded deep in your chest.

Because what goes up must always come down.

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[rotworld]

18: Strix

you and soleth have been teaching the village’s mage children for a couple years now. you’ve grown fond of him in that time, but you had no idea just how strongly those feelings were reciprocated.

->explicit. contains mild feral behavior, animal death, breeding kink (no pregnancy occurs), and single father owlman.

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.

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Conjuration is the last and most destructive lesson of the day. It doesn’t matter if the students are practicing stormcalling or magical shielding, and it makes no difference how carefully you watch them. Someone always manages to set something on fire. This time it’s Brenn who sheepishly tugs at your sleeve and points to the smoldering embers quickly catching in the middle of a fairy ring. Before you’ve even moved, a blur of brown and gray rockets past you.

It’s your fellow instructor, Soleth, wings stretched wide. He flies quickly and soundlessly from another group of students across the clearing and smothers the fire before it grows any further, stamping it out with nothing but his bare, taloned feet. He’s told you a dozen times that his skin is thick and scale-like around his talons, that he isn’t burned and doesn’t need any salves or lotions, but you always worry.

“I’m fine,” he insists. You just have to take his word for it. Soleth’s face is always stony and inexpressive, something he’s told you is a skill cultivated by adult strixes. The small, down-like feathers where a human’s hairline would be are capable of a wide range of motion to convey a strix’s mood and feelings. The most you’ve ever seen from him was a mild, disgruntled quiver when one of the students nearly struck him with lightning. He hadn’t even blinked.

The commotion has the whole class gawking and gathering around. Soleth steps carefully through the crowd of children, mindful not to catch their robes with his talons. “Who is responsible?” he asks tersely. Brenn’s eyes go wide and misty as he ducks behind you. 

“I didn’t mean to!” he says, babbling nervously. “I was just trying to make the shield but it wasn’t working and I didn’t know why so I tried harder and then there were sparks and I got scared and then there were more sparks and—”

You crouch down in front of the boy, lightly grasping his shoulder. “Brenn, take a deep breath with me,” you tell him. He makes a miserable sound but follows your lead, breathing in, holding it as long as you do, and letting it out in a rush. “It’s okay. No one got hurt. I’m glad you came to tell me right away.” You stand up and look around at the gathered students. “It’s important that we’re all  very careful if we cast inside a fairy ring. They amplify magic. Does anyone remember what amplify means?” 

You see Ingrid’s skinny hand shoot up, her fingers tipped with tiny claws. “It means it makes magic stronger,” she chirps. Soleth’s daughter is still covered in down and baby feathers, her head covered in white fuzz, but the ones ringing her face have just started to turn a soft ecru. 

“That’s exactly right,” you say. Her whole face lights up in delight, facial feathers wiggling. “Magic is amplified, or becomes stronger, in fairy rings. It’s like when you’re mixing potions, and you put in the ingredients too fast. You may not think you’re putting in too much, but suddenly everything starts to heat up and bubble over. It can become dangerous really fast.”

“I did that once,” Carlos says sheepishly. You remember. You were holding alchemy classes in your home that day. You went outside for less than a minute to pluck a few herbs you needed from the garden, and by the time you came back, Carlos’ cauldron was expelling hissing, boiling foam in impossible quantities. Soleth had moved with an urgency you didn’t often see, plucking children up by the armful to drop outside. You thought for sure he’d been burned that time because of how badly he was shaking, demanding to see the soles of his feet after everyone had been evacuated from your slimy kitchen, but he shook his head.

“Wanted to get you out sooner,” was all he said. 

Thankfully, there are no more incidents for the rest of the lesson. Brenn produces a shimmering magical shield, without sparks this time, and beams with excitement when you congratulate him on it. The sky flushes with sunset and it’s time to get the students home. Soleth and Ingrid live deeper in the woods, but they always come with you into town. No one is terribly surprised to see a couple of strixes walking the children home anymore. Carlos’ mother gives you fresh baked bread to take home. Brenn’s little sisters swarm him with questions, wanting to know what “magic practice” is like. It’s nearly nightfall when you finally make the long walk back towards the forest and your little cabin.

Ingrid yawns and starts to fall behind, but she squawks in protest when Soleth picks her up . “Daaaaad,” she whines, “I can walk!”

Soleth makes a low-pitched chirping sound, the strix equivalent of rolling his eyes. “You’re tired,” he says patiently. “We drop quickly when we are tired.” She tries to argue with him, but she’s already nodding off in his arms. He strokes the thick down feathers on the back of her head. “I have to take her home,” he tells you, stretching his speckled wings. “I will come back after. Make sure you’re alright.” 

You don’t quite finish telling him, “You don’t have to do that,” when he lifts off the ground. Soleth’s wings never cease to amaze you. Large, beautifully patterned, rich auburn with dark bands across the bottom of his feathers. They hardly make a sound despite their size as he flaps above the trees and soars gracefully away. 

He’s on your mind the whole way home. It’s only been a couple years since you first met, but it feels like a lifetime with how seamlessly he’s become a part of your life. You’d been preparing to take on new students after the last class had gone on to take apprenticeships in distant lands and magister’s towers, tending the garden and reminiscing, when he landed in front of you.

You’d never met a strix before. As far as you knew, they lived far from humans and kept to themselves. He towered over you with long legs and frightening claws, bird-like talons on his feet and hooked claws on each finger. Large facial feathers, roughly where a human’s ears would be, flared out in a show of intimidation.

“You teach young mages?” he’d asked. You stared up at him, forgetting how to speak for some time, and nodded. He stalked around your home, examining the wooden fence around your herb garden and the well behind the house. You followed at a distance, and just about had a heart attack when his head rotated nearly all the way around. He didn’t entirely trust you, that much was clear. He was reluctant to take his eyes off of you as he poked around in the bushes and peered through your windows. Finally satisfied, he turned towards you. “My daughter is gifted,” he said. “You will teach her.”

Time had softened him somewhat. Soleth would perch in a high tree during those first few lessons with Ingrid, watching you like a hawk, but gradually he became less rigid and standoffish. He would linger after lessons were over. Conversation was never his strong suit, so he would offer to help you with tasks he was uniquely skilled at, like scaring deer away from your herb garden or fixing holes in the roof. Eventually, he asked if you wanted an assistant teacher. His magic was among the strongest you’d ever seen. You asked him why he hadn’t become a magister. He made a face like he’d eaten something distasteful. 

You aren’t surprised that Soleth is waiting for you. He flies much faster than you can walk, having dropped off Ingrid and tucked her into bed already. His eyes glint in the dark, catching the moonlight. You notice a large lump under one of his talons. He nods towards it as you approach. “You haven’t eaten yet,” he says. Not a question, but you suppose he would know, having been with you all day. 

It’s a stag, you realize. The beast is practically as large as you. Soleth’s talons are wrapped around its limp, broken neck, the only damage you can see. “I just came across it on my way back,” he says modestly. There’s something distinctly off about him. He’s tense, rigid in a way you haven’t seen in a very long time. His feathers are puffed up, but he’s not trying to scare you. It’s more like he’s showing off, standing straight-backed and taller than usual. You don’t know enough about strix culture to make any assumptions, but it’s hard not to read this as a courtship display. Your heartbeat quickens at the thought.

“It’s...really big,” you say, still stunned. “I appreciate this, I just don’t want it to go to waste. Maybe you could take some home with you?” 

Soleth blinks slowly. “But it’s for you,” he insists.  “You’re meant to have the whole thing. If you like it.” His facial feathers flutter just a bit. Is he nervous? You’re definitely missing something. 

“Soleth,” you say gently, “I don’t want to misread your intentions here. Does this stag have a particular significance?” 

He doesn’t answer. You worry that you’ve offended him, or upset him somehow. Before you can apologize, he says, “Come closer.” His voice is just above a whisper. You oblige, stepping towards him. “Closer,” he repeats. “Come here.” You hesitate. Soleth waits patiently. You close the distance that remains. Soleth adjusts his grip on the stag, turning the head so its antlers aren’t in the way. He wants you as close as you can get, nearly nose to nose when he finally lets out a breath, satisfied. 

Soleth folds one of his wings around you, pulling you into his chest. His hand rests on your hip. You’ve never been this close to him. Your heart is pounding and you know his acute hearing can pick it up. You whisper his name with nervous anticipation. He hunches, desperate to meet your gaze. You always thought they were solid black, but you can see a band of color around the outer rim, streaks of auburn. He speaks in a steady, quiet voice, the hand on your hip rising slowly along your side. 

“We are very different, you and I,” he murmurs. His hand slides under your tunic and the lightest graze of his claws against your skin makes you gasp. He rubs between your shoulder blades, a firm massage aimed at your tense, knotted muscles. “No wings. No claws. Can’t see well in the dark. I worry about you. I feel more than just worry.” Soleth leans in, his lips brushing against your hairline. Where your feathers would begin, if you were a strix. “When we find one for whom we feel more than just worry, we hunt. We bring a gift that is worthy.” He presses his forehead to yours. The soft, curly roots of his facial feathers tickle your skin. You hear a deep rumbling sound, vibrating in his chest. His eyes shut in contentment. It’s the most expressive you’ve ever seen him.

“If I accept the stag,” you say, “then that means I accept you. Is that right?”  

“Yes,” Soleth says. 

You don’t even hesitate. Cupping his face, you press your lips to his. You feel the air stirring around you, his wings flapping in shock. Soleth wraps his arms around you, pulling you against his lithe body, but he doesn’t kiss you back. You pull away and find his eyes searching yours. He’s holding his breath. “Help me bring the stag inside,” you tell him.

Like a dam breaking, Soleth is still at first, then begins to tremble. It starts in his facial feathers, a slight quiver. You watch them flare in sequence, waving like little wings on either side of his head. You yelp when you’re pinned up against the door of your own home. Soleth brings your feet off the ground, holding you up to his eye level. You wrap your legs around his waist and he makes that pleased rumbling sound, louder this time. Your worries that he might not be familiar with kissing or find it unpleasant are unfounded. He crushes your lips together, nipping and biting playfully until you open your mouth. His tongue is long and coaxes yours out to tangle together.

“Warm,” you hear him mutter between sharp pecks and lovebites. His hands explore you and he keeps letting out pleased little gasps at every new discovery. Your chest is particularly interesting to him. No feathers like his. His hands slip under your tunic and map the curves and shapes of your body. You make a sound he likes when he tweaks one of your nipples and it makes him relentless, swiping his thumb back and forth over the nub and teasing it into hardness. “Warm. Soft. Like this.” 

“Inside,” you remind him gently. You run your fingers carefully through the feathers on the side of his head. He likes that, leans into the touch and keens happily. “I want to lay down. I want you on top of me.”

Soleth shoves your door open and carries you easily, one arm under you and your legs around his waist. You have to coax him into moving just a bit further because he keeps stopping, pushing you against any surface he sees. He kisses you breathless against the kitchen wall. He starts undressing you on a table, tugging at the cord of your tunic with his teeth. You start to notice something growing beneath his trousers, a heated, pulsing bulge between his legs that’s never been there before. “Bed,” he scoffs after the fourth time you whisper the word. “We’ll go to bed when I’m through with you. Not before.”

You try to make it enticing, licking your lips. “The bed is where humans make love,” you say. Soleth is familiar with the phrase. It makes him groan and palm the bulge between his legs.

“You dirty the place where you sleep?” he asks, but he sounds just as intrigued as he does scandalized. 

“We clean it later.”

You’re undressed by the time you make it to the bed. Soleth lays you down gently like a precious treasure and crouches over you, peeling off his trousers. There’s a fleshy spot where his feathers part, a slick slit that he dips his fingers into with a moan. He holds your gaze as he teases out a long, thick cock, rocking his hips into his own hand. 

“I haven’t mated in years,” he admits. “No need. No desire. Until you.” He stops just to admire you, stroking his cock as his eyes rake down your body. You’re self-conscious, curling in on yourself, and it makes Soleth growl. It only takes one hand for him to flip you over onto your stomach. You bite back a moan when you feel his body blanketing you, his soft, feathered chest pressed against your back. “You did this to me. Put me in rut,” he hisses. He slides his cock against your ass, letting you feel how hard he is, how far he’ll reach inside of you.

Soleth ruts against you like an animal, panting and growling. His wings are bent, the tips of his feathers curling against your floor, as though he wants to wrap them around you. He trails kisses down your neck and hisses against your skin, “All I can think about is breeding you. Making eggs with you. My clutch, growing inside of you.” 

“Soleth,” you whimper. 

He noses against your jaw, letting out a reassuring trill. “I know,” he murmurs. “It’s just a fantasy. But if I could, I would. In a heartbeat.” He stops his frantic grinding to line himself up properly, his tip nudging your entrance. “Let me pretend,” he whispers. He bites playfully on your earlobe. “Let me imagine it. Breeding you, just like this.” He rocks his hips slowly, lets you feel the steady pressure build. Soleth’s talons wrap around your ankles and he spreads your legs wider, pinning them in place. You moan his name as he penetrates you, the hot, thick slide of his cockhead spreading you open. Your hands twist in the sheets and you arch your back, eager for him to fill you. 

“So tight,” he hisses, his wings fluttering. You don’t have long to adjust before he’s moving, building to a quick, pounding rhythm that makes your bed rattle and bang against the wall. The sound seems to excite him. Soleth buries his face in your hair, kissing your scalp and inhaling your scent. His hips drive forward, his cock fucking into you deeper until his hips slam into your ass and he stills with a groan, rotating his hips while he’s seated inside of you. He rubs all the right places to make you see stars and scream his name, arching under him. One of his hands cups your chin and you give into the pressure urging you to bend backward as far as you can, watching him loom over you.

You’ve never seen Soleth likes this. That constant control has snapped and he’s panting, his face flushed, feathers taut and standing on end. “I love you, Soleth,” you say. It’s impulsive, slipping out in the heat of the moment, but you mean it. It’s hard to imagine your life without him in it. He makes a wounded sound and swoops down to kiss you. It’s awkward and messy, your nose bumping his chin, his teeth grazing your jaw, but you don’t want it to stop. Soleth fucks you in slow, deep thrusts. His whole body is shaking. He’s close, but he doesn’t want to finish first. 

“I’m going to breed you,” he says, his voice thin and strained. He starts losing rhythm, his hips slamming into you at their own frenzied pace. “Going to pump you full of me. Stuff you with cum. Won’t stop till I know it takes.” You mewl weakly, melting in pleasure, as Soleth peppers kisses over your shoulder and up your neck while he fucks you. “You’re going to have my eggs,” he moans. “Our eggs. A full clutch inside of you. My mate. All mine.” 

He bites you, sinks his teeth into a spot he sucked tender, and it sends you crashing over the edge. You see stars, your toes curl, and your body shivers with every pleasurable tremor. Soleth starts to rut mindlessly through the tightening spasms of your inner walls. He lets out a shrill sound when he cums and locks against you, hips straining, cock pulsing with every spurt of cum into your trembling body. He pins you to the bed, talons wrapped tight around your ankles and his hands on your wrists, holding you still as he fills you. He’s still cumming long after the last waves of pleasure leave you. You whimper, sore and overstimulated. Soleth murmurs apologetically, nuzzling against the side of your face.

“Taking me so well,” he praises you. His hips are still rocking with small, hard thrusts. You’re so full that his cum is leaking out of you, dribbling out around his softening cock. You feel it withdrawing slowly, slipping back into the sheath of his cloaca. His feathers are bunched up and sticky with your sweat, but Soleth is in no hurry to part from you. He moves only to roll you over so he’s on his back between you and the bed. He drapes a wing around you, his long feathers brushing light against your heated skin. Already, you see him retreating into his usual shell of stoicism, but there’s tenderness in his eyes that you haven’t noticed before. He rests a hand on your hip, rubbing small circles with his thumb.

“We never brought the stag in,” you say weakly. 

“Mm. That’s right. You need to eat. And the bed needs to be cleaned.” Soleth kisses your forehead and starts shifting under you, but you whine and grab his hand. 

“Later,” you say, unwilling to move. Soleth frowns. You draw him in for a kiss, startled when you feel his cloaca twitching against your hip. 

“I’m going to breed you again later,” he growls, nipping at your lips. “So you need to eat now.”

“You’re ready to go again already?” 

“I told you. You did this to me.” Soleth takes your hand between his legs, letting you feel the throbbing, tender opening where his cockhead is sticking out. “Feel that? It’s all for you. And this,” he hisses, stroking your sex, “is all mine. I’m not going anywhere before I have my fill. Even then, you won’t be able to get rid of me. This is a very serious arrangement.”

“I know,” you assure him. His facial feathers are quivering. He looks almost guarded, like he’s afraid of rejection. “Soleth, I love you. I want this. All of this.” He rumbles happily, sweeping you up in his arms as he stands up. 

“Good. Ingrid is expecting you to move in,” he says, sounding almost sheepish. You stare at him in shock.

“You told her?” 

“I did not tell her anything,” he insists. His wings quiver at his back and his facial feathers are drooping. You think this is what embarrassment looks like. “But I have been shamefully obvious in my interest. That said, I do not want you to feel any undue pressure. This is very new, and very delicate. If you would like time to think, I would understand.” 

“Soleth,” you say. He looks down and you cup his chin, pulling him into a kiss. You feel him relax into you, the tension melting out of his body. “Let’s have dinner, and relax. And,” you say, licking your lips, “after you breed me again, help me take some of my things over.”

Emotions you’ve never seen before flicker across Soleth’s face, too quickly for you to recognize them all. But you see what you think is joy, relief, love, and something very hungry before he tangles his hand in your hair and drags you back to his lips.