#and for perhaps the hundredth time I have not read it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

perlelune · 8 months ago

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Glory And Gore | Feyd-Rautha

The trip to Giedi Prime you take with your mother should have been a mere diplomatic gesture. Instead, you find yourself prey to the inevitability of fate as it sinks its claws into your flesh.

Warnings: NON-CON, Deception, Parental Neglect, Cannibalism, Mutilation, Bene Gesserit Reader, Knives, Murder, Forced Marriage, Primal Kink

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

“I don’t want to.”

“You must.”

“Mother-”

“Use it!”

The authority dripping from your mother’s voice has you shrinking in your chair. You lift your gaze. A shudder slithers through your frame. Your fingers squeeze around the armrests, gripping so tightly you can feel the iciness seeping into your veins.

You study your mother’s face.

An unsettling realization crashes over you.

You no longer are looking into your mother’s eyes…but at the Bene Gesserit. You steel your features and iron your resolve.

You swallow a deep, calming breath.

“Give me the blade,” you repeat, for perhaps the hundredth time that morning. The exact count has evaporated amidst your heated nerves long ago. Your mother is unyielding today, pushing you further than she ever has before. While her purpose eludes you, the urgency etched in her manner from the moment she tore you from bed that day doesn’t. Today, your mother will not settle for surrender. She demands results.

Results for all the years she spent drilling the Bene Gesserit ways into you.

There is no hint of being swayed in your mother, her handle on the dagger unwavering. No twitching. No slackening of her grip. Your spirits dim.

“Again,” she barks.

Pearls of sweat gather on your brow as you strain your mind once more. The humming courses through your blood, the echo of power swelling in your mind. Fiery tendrils trickle through the veil of hesitation and nervousness.

You grasp at the threads, the fleeting wisps of control, pulling on them with all your might. Still, they slip through your fingers like sand. Frustration flares inside you with every attempt.

You persevere, enduring through the agony bleeding inside your mind. Through the liquid fire sweeping through your veins.

You meet your mother’s harsh stare.

“Give…me…the blade…” you articulate, injecting every bit of hazy conviction glowing inside you.

For a while, you and your mother hold each other’s gaze. A battle of wills. An ephemeral, pathetic one that ends as it always does…with your mother snickering at your failure.

She shoots up from the chair, exasperation evident in the drawn-out sigh she unleashes.

“No willpower. Just fear,” she says, pacing across the room.

“Apologies, mother,” you mutter, lowering your head in shame.

The Voice. The damned Voice. In eighteen years, you have never mastered it.

She approaches you, kneeling in front of your chair.

“Child, you must never fear, because fear…”

“...Is death,” you finish. The Bene Gesserit words are woven into the very fabric of your mind, for you have uttered them so many times since childhood.

She places her forehead against yours, cupping your cheeks.

The combination of your two voices echoes in the room.

“Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me…”

As you recite the familiar prayer, a wave of serenity swaddles you in its calming tide.

Your eyes flutter open.

Your mother’s fingers wrap around yours.

“Reverend Mother will see you tomorrow.”

“So soon?”

“You are of age. It is time.”

“Time for what?”

A shadow flits across her eyes.

“For the Gom Jabbar.”

“Gom…Jabbar.” A crease appears on your forehead. “What is it?”

A tense smile spreads on her face, her grip on your hand growing tighter.

“You will learn soon enough,” she says.

Rest eludes you that night, your mother’s words weighing too heavy on your mind for it to float away in peaceful slumber. Tormented by nightmares, you toss and turn between your sheets.

A beast chasing you, its claws sharp and long…Like knives. Darkness creeping on your every step. Fire shooting through your veins.

The world in flames, while you burn alongside it.

You awake drenched in your own sweat.

Hugging your knees, you lean against the headboard. You stare ahead. Moonlight drizzles through your carved window, casting shapes of silvery light against your walls. The same granite walls you have known since childhood. Usually so familiar, comforting. Today the sight of them reminds you how utterly alone you are.

Your thoughts churn, the storm of doubt and gloom within you grazing its peak.

Per custom, you are a disappointment to both your mother and the Sisterhood. The Voice. The Weirding Way. No matter which skill your mother and the myriad of Bene Gesserit teachers you had over the years attempted to drill into you…you failed to master every single one.

It’s not for lack of trying on your part. You wish you knew why. Why your voice always cracks. Why your hand always falters. Your mother has never given hope to lure a steel-mindedness out of you that was simply…never there. No part of you wishes to bend others to your whim or cause harm. You don’t crave control or power. Only serenity and peace.

The next day springs forth in a haste, the blinding light of the sun arriving too quickly for your comfort. There is a deliberate languid nature to your motions as you get dressed, fussing with your hair and dress. A pointless attempt at delaying the inevitable.

Gom Jabbar. You mulled the words over and over in your non-sleep. Mighty oppressor or mighty enemy. The translations from Chaksobar to Galach are plentiful. While you don’t know what awaits you on the other side of the door, from your mother’s pinched expression the day before…unpleasantness is guaranteed.

You trudge inside the dark room, a chill shooting through your spine at the sight of the still figure of Reverend Mother Gaius Helen Mohiam sitting in the middle. Her pale, weathered features, wrinkled and creased like ancient parchment, stand out amidst the unsettling gloominess ahead. Even behind the black veil, the older woman radiates an aura of ancient, mystic power, her presence both fascinating and intimidating.

No word unfurls from her tongue at first, her keen, bird-like eyes assessing you. Despite the urge to cower, you hold your chin high and stiffen your spine.

“Your Reverence,” you greet, bowing so low your nose almost grazes the tiled floor.

“Come closer, child.”

Your feet move on their own before you even register the command. Shock pulses though you as you approach the Reverend Mother. The Voice…She used the Voice on you. No Bene Gesserit ever did that before. None would even dare. Not on a Count’s daughter.

You land in front of her, stunned and shivering.

She collects a viridian metal fox from beneath her robes, its eerie light glowing ominously in the darkness. Your heart stutters as you note the chasm inside the box, a lightless void reflecting nothing but complete blackness.

“Put your right hand in the box,” she orders.

Her tone is bereft of the thrall of the Voice now. Willing compliance... you realize this is what she wishes from you. You stare at the pitch blackness inside of the box, the sight alone stirring your unease. Hesitation limns your fingertips.

“I…”

The Reverend Mother’s firm voice booms across the air like thunder.

“Is this the respect you show to your elders?” she roars.

You flinch. Shameful heat lurks its way inside your cheeks. Mother would be embarrassed if she saw you now, denying the Reverend Mother herself, the Emperor’s Truthsayer.

You inhale a wide breath and place a tremulous hand inside the metal box. As the darkness engulfs your appendage, a cold wave creeps over it. The prick of a needle on your fingers follows closely. Sensations vanish from your hand, only an odd numbness remaining.

The old woman’s gaze sharpens. Her wrinkled hand shoots upward with a quickness that leaves you speechless, halting right beside your neck.

A glimpse of metal beckons you from the corner of your vision. Temptation to turn your head simmers within you but an instinct set deeply into your bones screeches at you not to move.

You yield to to the second hunch.

“I hold at your neck the Gom Jabbar,” she informs. “The high-handed enemy.”

“Poisoned needle?” you absently wonder.

You catch the shadow of a smile through the black veil.

“Your mother did say you were a clever one.” She tilts her head slightly, reminding you of a vulture circling its prey, gauging the right moment to swoop down and sink its claws. “A soft heart with a sharp mind.” Dread coils around your heart. “The test is simple, girl. Your hand must remain in the box. Keep it in the box, you live. Withdraw it, you die.”

“What’s in the box?”

“Pain.”

Tingles begin to spread.

Your breath snags, needles starting to dig across the back of your hand. But unlike before, the sensation lingers this time. Growing and growing. Uncomfortable at first, then unbearable. Then, it turns blatantly hellish. Fire licks your flesh, the flames causing your entire body to break out in sweat and your breaths to come out labored and uneven.

Pain such as this cannot be of this world, you begin to think.

The kind that grows more vile and intense every second. You writhe, tears rushing to your eyes. Your free hand clutches your stomach, twisting the flesh in desperate need of an anchor amidst the unnatural agony. The room fogs around you, your quick, panicked breaths and the wild drumming of your heart filling your ears.

The longing for death comes and goes, the impulse to withdraw your hand teetering over a precipice. At least, death would bring release from the unfathomable pain.

Blessed freedom. You nearly surrender to that wayward instinct. Nearly.

In the end however, the acute, overwhelming awareness of the lethal needle less than an inch from your neck keeps your hand inside the box.

“An animal in pain would chew its own leg to escape a trap,” The Reverend mother says calmly, unfazed by your tears and sobs. “But a human would bide its time, suffer through the agony until he might remove the threat to his kind. This is a test of humanity. This is what us Bene Gesserit do. Set humans apart from animals.”

An eternity in the pits of hells seems to drag along before she gives you permission to withdraw your hand, her hand dropping from your neck.

“Enough,” she says.

You tear your hand out of the box with a trembling exhale, astonished when your gaze tumbles upon smooth, unharmed skin. You turn it upside down, flabbergasted. It looks the same. Yet the furnace within the box made the burning feel so real, so vividly, terrifyingly real, that you were convinced the flesh and bones were devoured by the flames. You expected a lump of bleeding, smoking flesh. In disbelief, you fold your fingers several times. You wince. Phantom pain still sits in your hand, your nerves alight with embers of ache.

Suppressing a fresh surge of tears, you lift your eyes to the Truthsayer.

“Your tolerance for pain is sufficient,” she states. “Congratulations, child. You are human enough to serve our purposes.” She hums in thought, a sliver of satisfaction seeping through her solemn inflection. “You may not be a complete waste of genetic material after all.”

“You almost failed the test, I hear.”

You shift in the bench opposite your mother, her imperious tone ripping the wound of your glaring incompetence open once more.

Your attention wanders above the closing gate of the starship. You commit the luxurious plains of your planet to memory. Your chest twinges with preemptive melancholy. From what you heard, Giedi Prime is a dry, depleted rock where trees are replaced by rows of factories and metal skyscrapers which only blot out the dusky skies even more. A nightmare from the sounds of it. Though your mother insisted you join her on the trip, arguing your presence is key to the success of the treaty.

So you swallowed your reluctance and agreed to come.

“I thought I would lose my hand,” you mumble, your fingers clenching. The awe over the flawless state of your limb hasn’t left you.

“Her Reverence would never maim a prospect,” your mother argues.

You nod, gaze colliding with hers.

“Just kill them if they fail to prove their humanity?”

You still recall the sharp, poison-dipped tip pointed at your neck. The oppressive weight of impending death nipping at your flesh.

The line between surrender and success had been thin. Too thin.

Your mother’s stern brow furrows.

“Pain is always a possibility…One you must embrace.”

“Why? Isn’t the Gom Jabbar a singular occurrence?”

Instead of answering you, your mother lifts a black, oblong chest from beside her. You noticed it before but forgot to inquire about its purpose.

The metal and dark accents of the object mimics the Harkonnen style. Your fingers sweep over the symbols engraved on the box.

“What is it?” you ask.

“Open it.”

You do as instructed. The inside of the chest reveals a set of knives, a long obsidian one and a short silvery one. The blades glimmer as you lift them, their sharp edges catching the artificial light of the cockpit.

“They were forged from the finest steel on Alderan,” your mother says. You give a puzzled stare. Your mother elaborates, “You must gift them to the na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen upon arrival. For his coming of age.”

Right. Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen’s birthday celebration. You were told there would be a grand spectacle in the arena, that he was a great warrior, revered and admired by his people…perhaps even more than his uncle the Baron Vladimir. Day after day before the trip, your mother has impressed upon you the importance of attendance, of embracing the Harkonnen customs as if born into them. Every single one, however uncanny, crude or brutal.

So, much as the concept of spilling blood for entertainment repulses you…you shelf your disgust for now. Personal feelings must capitulate to diplomacy.

Your critical eye sweeps over the knives. These must have cost a fortune. Sinister beauty and artful skill fused in ominous synergy inside a finely made instrument of death.

“It’s fine craftsmanship,” you say. Your fingertip drags across the curved edge. A crease appears on your forehead. “But the edges…they could be sharper.” Your eyes light up. “I could finish before we land.”

You sift through one the heaps of precious stones and minerals lining the walls of the cockpit.

Victory floods your being as you find what you sought. A flat whetstone that shall serve your purpose well. You find a spot on the floor and begin your task. The knives shine brighter with every swift glide of your hand.

The frown on your face deepens.

“I hope the Baron’s nephew is pleased with our gift.”

You know next to nothing of him. Though you surmise if your families are to start trading with each other, getting along would be wiser.

Your mother smiles at you though it fails to reach her eyes.

“I have no doubt he will be very pleased with all the gifts you bring him, daughter.”

The frosty, pollution-heavy winds of the lifeless planet whip your face as you set foot outside the car. Your eyes roam over the large building housing the Harkonnen arena. The imposing structure casts an intimidating shadow against the nebulous, gray sky above it. Dormant volcanoes peek through the horizon in the distance, the only remnants of natural landscapes.

Hopelessness surges through you.

Despite having landed less than an hour ago, a fierce longing for Alderan’s endless green fields and snowy mountain peaks roars inside you. Every cell in your body screams to go back inside the ship and return home.

But you can’t. Such a display of rudeness would be a disaster for diplomatic relations. So you plaster on a smile and ignore the potent stench wafting around you.

You exert meticulous sovereignty over your expression when the Baron floats toward you and your mother. Nothing could have prepared you for this. The sight of the bald, massive man hovering towards you and your mother in his suspensor chair.

The floating figure of the baron stops in front of you and your mother. A circle of servants, clad in black clothing, follows behind him. You note their bowed heads, the way their eyes never rise high enough to look directly at you or your mother. A brand marks their necks, one you recognize as the sigil of House Harkonnen. You’re reminded how ubiquitous the slave trade is on Giedi Prime. Your mother mentioned it but the harsh reality of it didn’t strike you until now.

“Welcome to Giedi Prime,” Baron Vladimir greets. His gristly tone surprises you, eliciting a chill across your spine you swiftly suppress.

“My Lord,” your mother says, sinking into a graceful bow.

You mimic her. The baron leers at you.

“She is even more exquisite in person.”

You recoil, the glint in his calculating stare stirring your unease.

Your mother’s gaze sweeps across her surroundings.

“The na-Baron isn’t in attendance?”

“My dear nephew is preparing himself in the gladiator pit. There are rituals we Harkonnen observe upon one’s coming of age.” Your mother nods.

The baron smirks, his focus swinging to you. “Perhaps you could pay him a visit, little one?”

You clutch the small chest in your hands.

“I…”

“Go on,” your mother urges, shoving you forward.

You gasp, almost tripping in your shock. The baron’s commanding voice rises.

“Slave!”

One the cowering servants leaps from the circle.

“Yes, sire?” the boy mumbles.

“Escort the girl to my nephew at once.”

The servant approaches you. His gaze briefly lifts before finding the floor again. A pang of empathy twists in your chest as you note the fear etched in the servant’s eye. You find yourself wondering what these eyes have witnessed, what horrors lurk on the wretched rock.

“Follow me, my Lady,” he says.

As you’re led away from the welcoming party, you toss a glance at your mother above your shoulder. The message written in her eyes and stern expression is clear as lake water.

Do not cast a veil of shame upon our house. Remember your duty.

Sucking a deep breath, you turn away.

You and your retinue of two guards and an attending maid are taken to the bowels of the arena. A horrid stench clings to the walls as you trudge through the dim walls. It grows more potent the closer you get to the pit. Your chest heaves. The urge to empty the meager contents of your stomach in the sand tickles your dry throat. You quell your disdain with a shake of your head.

You are here to present your house in a positive light, help Father’s treaty with House Harkonnen be a success.

As you enter the room, you get your first look at Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen. Warmth finds your cheeks. He’s almost bare, his rippling, pale muscles on full display. Two servant girls paint broad, black strokes over his carved back. The dark color stands out against his alabaster skin. Not a stray hair covers him and you suppose he’s as smooth-skinned and hairless as the rest of his kind.

When his dark gaze settles on you, you take tremulous steps forward.

You open the chest and present the knives to him.

“This is a gift for you, Lord na-Baron Feyd-Rautha,” you say, your voice cracking at the end.

Silence hangs for what seems eons, Feyd-Rautha cocking his head as he gauges you. It takes every ounce of bravery inside you not to flinch. His presence alone has every hair on your body stand at attention.

There’s a cold intensity in his glare, a tautness on his slender features.

You feel as prey being assessed. The urge to run itches your flesh. Your mother’s quiet warning echoes in your head. Remember your duty. You dig your feet into the ground, willing your roaring pulse to steady.

You hear him speak for the first time. His voice is hoarse and deep. Like the scratching of a stone over a sharp object.

“Would you like some fresh meat, my darlings? Lungs, a liver, perhaps?” he offers, smirking at three women sitting in a corner of the room. Their inky, whiteless orbs and ravenous grins send a chill through your spine.

His eyes fall on the knives inside the chest. His hand sweeps over the blades, an odd gesture almost reminiscent of a lover’s caress. He places the silver knife against his tongue, as if to taste the sharpness of the weapon. You shudder as you watch him, a foreboding feeling spreading across your flesh.

For a brief span of time, the well of your buried childhood memories tugs you to its depths. You recall a day when you were little. Your father took you hunting in the forests of Alderan. You chased a butterfly and got lost. You fell across a field. When you rose, you were nose to nose with a fierce predator. It stared at you a while, so still as its slanted, yellow gaze pinned you to your spot that you thought you were safe. You didn’t notice the calculated way it was prowling towards you, its maw opening slowly in anticipation of its next meal. The gift of tender, unsuspecting flesh. It’s not until your father speared the creature with his sword that you realized the jaws of death almost closed in on you. As it sprawled across the field, it unleashed an ear-piercing dying howl.

You were struck with shock that day.

A similar shock rocks you to your core when Feyd-Rautha slices the throat of one of the servant girls at his side and stabs the other repetitively. Time freezes as the lifeless bodies of the slave girls hit the sand with a loud thud.

Speckles of dark blood stain the bottom of your light tunic.

Your wide gaze lands on the other slave girl, tucked in a corner of the room. You watch her shrink in fear, the quaking in her hands so intense she nearly drops the tray she’s holding.

Horror fills you. She isn’t wondering if she’ll be next…but when.

Feyd-Rautha’s attention swings back to you. Dread coils around your heart.

“Hm, these are shockingly adequate,” he purrs appreciatively, grabbing the other knife from the chest.

It’s hard focusing on his words. Behind him, the three bald-headed women are swooping down on the poor servant girls’ corpses like vultures ripping a carcass to shreds. One of them pulls out a knife and slices the girl open from neck to gut. They bury their hands inside the girl’s body and grab fistfuls of her soft insides that they greedily shove into their mouths. Pieces of guts and dripping flesh jut from their pale lips, trickling down their chins and necks.

One of the women catches you staring and flashes you a blood-drenched, black grin.

You shudder. The maid at your side chokes on a sob, her hand flying across her mouth. Even your guards are appalled by the display, one of them averting his eyes.

A whispery croak slips through your lips.

“I s-sharpened them myself this morning,” you say, your fingers tightening around the chest.

A crooked smile unfurls on the na-Baron’s lips.

“Well, aren’t you full of surprises, pet.”

His smile expands. “How rude of me,” he says, tossing a casual glance at the ghoulish spectacle behind him. The women are still gleefully feasting on the slain slave girls. “Would you like a bite as well?” His mirthful gaze flicks over your heaving chest. “Fresh heart, perhaps?”

You swallow past the lump in your throat, forcing a placid smile onto your face.

“I-I’m quite alright, my Lord. I already ate.” The chomping noises of the cannibalistic women rises, one of them tearing into the slave girl’s side with her sharp nails.

Sickness spreads through your being. You avert your gaze.

“I shall leave you to get ready for your entrance, my Lord,” you stammer as you give a quick bow.

“I look forward to our next meeting, my Lady,” Feyd-Rautha says, the amusement never leaving his face as you scurry out of the room.

A tremor still lingers in your hands as you join your mother in the golden box above the triangular arena. The moment you sit at her side, she questions you.

“So, what did you think of him?”

“Who?” you reply, feigning ignorance.

She sighs. “Feyd-Rautha.”

You press your lips. The crowd chants his name as he steps into the arena, clutching the blades you gifted him at his sides. He walks slowly, with purpose. Yet there’s a hint of tedium in his haughty gait. As if today was no different than any other day for him, and the taking of more lives were nothing more than a mere footnote in his long list of tasks for the evening.

Sadist. Psychopath. Deranged.

These are some of the few choice words that surge inside your mind in response to your mother’s inquiry.

You utter none of them.

“Why does it matter? Our stay on Giedi Prime will be short, will it not?”

You peer through the binoculars your mother hands you. There’s a gut-wrenching brutality to the na-Baron’s practiced motions.

You watch him cut down two Atreides gladiator-slaves with ease. It’s clear something has been done to the men, their wobbly, confused steps through the arena a painful scene to witness.

Your chest seizes every time his blade tears into the poor mens’ flesh. He snarls after a series of successful strikes, seeming more beast than human when he bares a row of black teeth.

A shiver ripples through your spine.

“You must keep an open mind,” your mother heeds.

The last gladiator-slave is different. You note it right away. There’s a lethal precision in his movements that was amiss in the other Atreides soldiers. Panic swarms the golden box. Baron Vladimir’s advisor begs him to cancel the fight.

“This one isn’t drugged,” he says, fear lacing his tone.

“This will spoil my nephew’s birthday,” the baron rumbles, dismissing the man with a withering glare. He remains disturbingly calm. “Show me who you are, dear nephew.”

You take a deep breath. The rest of the fight veers to an unusual route. Feyd-Rautha removes his body shield, welcoming the challenge the Atreides soldier offers with open arms.

A psychotic smile decorates his lips as he fights for his life. For the first time since the fight began, he comes alive in the arena.

The vicious trading of blow after blow has bile rising to your throat. Unable to stomach it any longer, you bolt to your feet and mumble a rushed apology to the Baron.

“I shall retire to my chambers,” you say.

As you exit the golden box, the excited clamor of the crowd as they scream Feyd-Rautha’s name follows your hasty steps.

You sneak a glance through the high, blue doors. The sight inside the vast hall has your blood curdling. Debauchery the likes of which you have never witnessed unfolds before your eyes. A peculiar blend of orgy and slaughter occurs in the hall. You’re failing to comprehend what you’re seeing, relief coursing through you that you refused the Baron’s invitation.

Once more, you are stunned by the vast cultural differences between your people and the Harkonnens. Sickened, you step away from the doors. Twisted curiosity led you there, and blatant disgust will take you straight back to your room.

The dusky, barren walls of the Harkonnen keep are a stark contrast to the colorful tapestries that can be found all over Castle Alderan.

Homesickness tugs at your heart strings. This alien world is hostile, wretched. You long for the familiarity of your bed and the warm, soothing winds of your planet.

As you roam the hallways, a prickling across your nape has you whirl.

Your sight fills with Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen.

Your chest clenches. Your head whips around, a fresh urgency livening your steps.

“Should you not be celebrating your grand victory, my Lord?”

“Frivolous pleasures do little to sate me,” he says, easily keeping up with you. His gravelly baritone ripples across your spine. “This isn’t for me…It’s for them. And my uncle knows it.” His arm brushes yours. You bristle. Amusement bleeds in his tone. “Where are you running off to, pet?”

Pet. You tense at the belittling moniker, the one he forcefully bestowed upon you.

“To my chambers. The evening has exhausted me.”

“You left early.”

You cast a puzzled frown upon him.

“In the arena," he specifies.

Your fingers curl into fists. The unfairness of what you witnessed still staggers you. The Atreides soldiers weren’t given a chance. Pigs led to their inevitable slaughter. And Feyd-Rautha plucked joy from their misery, seeing every slave as a tool to satisfy his unquenchable thirst for blood.

“I have no stomach for violence, my Lord.”

A humming sound pours from his throat.

“Perhaps it was careless then.”

Confusion flutters through you.

“Careless?”

A wicked smile tilts his lips skyward.

“Of my uncle to hand me such a delicate flower…one whose petals are bruised so easily.”

You let out a hollow laugh, dread gripping your insides. Loathing the way his dark gaze slides over your frame, you set your eyes forward.

“You say such strange things, my lord.”

“Do I?” He adds casually, “After all, you were promised to me.”

Your heart falters, missing a beat. He must be drunk, you ponder, in a feeble attempt to placate yourself with reassurance.

“Perhaps you ought to sleep the evening off, my lord. I believe victory may have gotten to your head, warped your perception.”

His sinister chuckle bounces against the walls.

“A pet with a sharp tongue. How fortuitous.”

It’s the only warning you receive before he snatches your wrist and slams you into a nearby wall.

You gasp. He pins your wrists beside your head, trapping you between him and the wall. You squeal, eyes bulging at the abrupt impact. You can already feel bruises form beneath his steely grip.

You fight to get free but he doesn’t budge. Sadistic enjoyment contorts his features as he admires your fruitless struggle.

He leans close to you. Your pulse soars.

“What are you doing?”

His lids sag as he drinks you in.

“Well…sampling my other gift, of course,” he whispers, lust oozing in his voice.

His mouth crashes over yours. You go dizzy. The kiss is bruising, staggeringly possessive. A brutal, sloppy clash of lips, teeth and tongue. You give his lip a harsh bite but it only draws a cheerful laugh from Feyd-Rautha. The acrid tang of metal coats your tongue. He moans against your lips and starts exploring your curves.

As his hands pluck at your soft flesh, fear surges through you.

“Let me go,” you scream, trying to use the Voice. There’s a flicker in his eyes and you feel hope…but it swiftly vanishes. One of his hands fastens around your throat while the other charts a dangerous path under your tunic. His fingers crudely poke and prod the apex of your thighs.

Your panic swells.

“Unhand me this instant!” you shout, a trickle of power rushing in your words.

Feyd-Rautha shakes his head, your thrall only seeming to last a few seconds. Mirth shimmers in his inky orbs as he studies you.

“Are you trying to use Bene Gesserit tricks on me?” The hand around your throat tightens. You claw at his arms, your vision flickering as he taunts, “Why don’t you try again, little witch?” He sinks two fingers through your dry entrance. Tears swim in your eyes at the aching, sudden stretch. His cruel voice flows against your temple. “Perhaps I ought to slice your tongue and shove it down your throat for our wedding.”

The hammering of your heart grows deafening. You swallow your tears and look into his eyes. You gather a thin breath to speak.

“Back away…” you croak weakly, desperation flailing inside your chest.

He gives a slow blink. To your surprise, the hand around your throat slackens. His eyes narrow as he leans away from you, a dazed expression on his face. You don’t take time to bask in fleeting relief, racing to your mother’s room as soon as his hands aren’t on you anymore.

Once you reach your mother’s chambers, you fling yourself into her arms.

Her arms wrap around your shuddering frame. She caresses your hair, gently whispering, “Daughter, the hour is so late…Is something the matter?”

You release a shaky breath, sinking further into her embrace.

“May we return to the ship? Go back home?”

“Why?”

You cast a tearful gaze towards her.

“Haven’t we done our duty, mother? Is it not enough?”

A long weary breath flows from her lips. Her hands curl around yours. She takes a deep breath before speaking again.

Her face becomes stern, impenetrable.

“Apologies, sweet child. We cannot.”

You search her harsh gaze. A heavy silence settles between the two of you. You retreat, horror clogging your airways as unsaid words hang in the air.

“Mother…What have you done?” you mumble, a fresh wave of tears breaking past your lashes.

“You are to marry Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen in three days’ time,”she bluntly announces. Your jaw drops as you take another step back. “All the arrangements have already been made.”

Your voice trembles.

“And Father agreed?”

“It was his idea, approved by the Reverend Mother herself.”

The deepest pits of hell welcome your plummeting heart. You sink to the floor, the weight of your kin’s treachery growing too heavy to bear.

“And you did not speak against it?” you mutter, disbelief confining your breath.

Your mother falls to her knees, joining you on the floor.

She cradles your face. “It is your destiny. We are Bene Gesserit. We exist only to serve.”

“He is a monster.”

“I’m afraid it’s irrelevant.”

A sharp breath spills from your throat. Your head snaps up.

“Is this all I am to the Sisterhood?” You unleash a dry laugh. “A broodmare to be sold and used to further their plans? To you and father…”

Her mouth wobbles. “Our way is not to question, but to answer when duty calls.”

You bring a quivering hand to your throat. You can still feel his harsh fingers crushing your windpipe.

“Do you see what he has done to me?”

“Mother, please…”

A flash of regret appears on her face. It barely lasts a second before a mask of indifference drapes over her features again.

“You should rest,” she says, cupping your cheek. “You will need your strength for the days ahead.”

You take in your mother’s blank expression. The blatant lack of emotion despite her knowing what Feyd-Rautha did to you. You swallow a shivering sob. It might have hurt less if she struck you across the face. Or drove a dagger through your chest.

The room chills around you as you reach a sinister conclusion.

You are completely alone.

Packing your scarce belongings takes little time. You didn’t bring a lot with you on Giedi Prime. The trip was supposed to be short after all. A mere courtesy visit to honor your father and the Baron’s alliance. How naive you were.

In the end, you are just a pawn for the Bene Gesserit and your father to move around. You always knew marriage would come eventually. It is what you have been prepared for your whole life. But you harbored the faint hope that your future husband would be kind, or at least a decent man.

As you recall every instance of Feyd-Rautha’s cruelty, horror clutches your insides.

There isn’t a sliver of kindness in him. You venture he may even draw sick pleasure from others’ misery. The smile that touched his lips when you struggled against him still chills your veins.

It stuns you that someone like him, who seems more animal than man, even passed the Reverend Mother’s test, that he somehow withstood the pain, and maybe even embraced it.

Logic dictates that he must have however. Otherwise the Reverend Mother wouldn’t ratify the crossing of your two bloodlines.

The mere thought fills you with dread. He is dangerous. A monster who thinks, who plans, who schemes, who gathers joy from pain.

You come to a decision. You will not be Feyd-Rautha’s bride.

You must find your way back home. The sisterhood can find another sacrifice to fulfill their prophecy. It will not be you.

You wait for the keep to be quiet, not a sound lingering in the cold, blue hallways. You conceal a few belongings beneath your cloak. Another set of clothes, a compass, some jewelry and other valuables you’re hoping to trade for safe passage on a starship. Doubts wander inside you.

Where will you go? What will you do? Will you survive the weather conditions and atmosphere of a completely different planet? You still remember your brief visit on Salusa Secundus for the Princess Irulan’s coronation day. How you couldn’t move without fire rushing to your lungs. How every single step felt like you were taking a hundred. You could die.

Still, the prospect scares you far less than what awaits you in the Keep.

Uncertainty lies in your future. But you do know one thing. You must run as far away as you can from Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen.

Getting past the guards is easy enough.

You use what you remember of your Bene Gesserit training to sneak outside the fortress.

Harko city welcomes you in all its dull, somber rotting glory. You cross past discarded piles of rubbish and large oily puddles as you race through dark alleyways. Everywhere your gaze rests, it’s assaulted by sheer decay and putrefaction. Unlike the clean, cold, pristine interior of the Keep, the city is crumbling.

The putrid stench rising from the streets almost causes you to turn back. In the end, you refrain, steadfast as you rush through the busy streets. Every second is precious. You could get caught, dragged back to the Keep.

The back of your neck prickles. Your pulse escalates. The presence of three men hovers at the edge of your sight. Pretending you didn’t notice them, you subtly hasten your strides.

They catch on quick, too quick.

One of them pounces on you. You keel over and collapse on the harsh, dirt-covered ground. You try to crawl away, fright engulfing your senses.

Another of the men grabs your ankle and yanks you towards them.

Leering smiles float above you in the dim light of the alley.

“Hm, we could fetch a good price for that one,” the last man says. “Such a pretty little thing with pretty, pretty hair…”

The man who caught you barks a derisive snicker.

“An outworlder. How exotic.”

The second one bends closer to sniff the air around you. Your throat constricts as you turn your head.

“Not just any outworlder,” he says, his head tilted in curiosity. “This one smells like royalty.”

Elated chuckles burst in the darkness.

“That royal bitch will make us rich.”

The man who smelled you licks his lips.

“But shouldn’t we sample the goods first?” Fear shoots through you. “Never had me a highborn gal before.”

“Me neither.”

“This is a once in a lifetime-”

The man chokes mid-sentence. Your mouth drops as a blade is driven through his neck from behind, practically beheading him. Blood rains over you. Wet spots drip onto your face and dress as each of the men is gutted by a swift, ruthless opponent. You watch one pull a knife. He doesn’t get to use it, unleashing a blood-curdling scream when his hand is sliced at the wrist. The fingers of his severed hand twitch as it hits the floor. He sinks to his knees, wailing while cradling his bleeding stump against his chest. He meets his end with a brutal smash of his head into the stone wall. Gray matter spills from his skull as his eyes roll back and he falls in a dark puddle lifelessly.

The last one tries to run but is dealt with in the same merciless fashion.

Your wide, horrified gaze sweeps over the massacre. The speckles of blood on your face are still warm with the heat of the dead men’s bodies.

A shaky breath spills from your throat.

Your head rises. You come face to face with Feyd-Rautha’s expressionless stare. He picks up your trembling frame from the ground and tosses you over his shoulder. He strolls over the men’s corpses as if they weren’t even there, huffing a deep sigh of annoyance.

“You should be glad I found you in time, pet,” he says.

He throws you inside a car. The door slams and you huddle in a corner. Feyd smirks at your shrinking form.

“Truly? Nothing to say after all that fuss?”

Tremulous words trickle through your lips.

“Just let me go home.”

He slants his head, the corners of his lips lifting slowly. “No.”

“You could say that you didn’t like the look of me,” you insist. “That I repulsed you.”

Feyd-Rautha snorts.

His hand shoots out, moving too fast for you to comprehend. He leans over you, fingers squeezing your throat. “Pet…you were mine before you even set foot on Giedi Prime.” His dark gaze drags over you. You get a glimpse of black teeth as he grins. “The only place you’re going tonight is my bed.”

Once the car reaches the Harkonnen keep, you’re roughly pulled from your seat. Your chest tightens as you note the severed heads of your guards and maid lined in a neat row near the gates. Their lifeless eyes are wide open, staring at nothing.

You stumble back, hands flying to your mouth.

Satisfaction twinkles in Feyd-Rautha’s dusky orbs.

“I had to kill these incompetent fools, of course. They let my precious bride slip away.”

You gawk at him in shock. Guilt presses inside you. If you hadn’t tried and failed to escape, those poor people might still be alive. Tears swell beneath your lashes.

The na-Baron exhales, gripping your arm and tugging you along when you refuse to move. He smiles. “Do not worry, pet. We will find you new servants. Better ones.”

You end up in a large room inside the Keep. A tub filled with water sits in the middle. Feyd-Rautha’s concubines flash black-teethed smiles at you as you crash into a heap on the floor.

“Get her ready for me,” he says.

“Yes, master,” the three women reply in concert.

Your eyes swing upward in alertness.

“Ready for what?”

His inflection is chillingly matter-of-fact.

“Well, our wedding ceremony, of course.” You unleash a whimper as his fingers twine in your hair, twisting your neck backwards. His feral gaze seems to peel the layers of your blood-soaked tunic. “Why wait a few days when I can have you as my birthday gift tonight?”

His hand coils around your jaw, forcing your head to pivot. Your gaze falls on a slave girl standing fearfully in a corner of the room. You’re struck with recognition. She was in the arena before his fight, tending to him along with two other girls. Two girls who are now dead. Courtesy of Feyd-Rautha. She glances at you before her eyes tumble to the smooth black tiles again.

“Do you see her?” he whispers, his chest brushing against your back.

Feyd-Rautha beckons the girl with two fingers. She staggers forward.

“Speak, slave,” he orders.

The girl opens her mouth. However, instead of uttering words, only distorted whimpers come out. Horror twists your insides as you realize something crucial is missing inside her mouth.

“W-What happened to her?” you ask, dreading to hear what you already suspect.

His dark chuckle resonates in your ear.

“She can’t talk anymore. Do you know why?” His lips graze your cheek, his raspy tone lowering. “Because I took her tongue.”

Your stomach sinks.

When you attempt to turn away, his grip on you becomes harsher. He forces you to keep your eyes on the girl.

“I want you to take a good look at her.” His hand spreads over your chest, right above your hammering heart. “Try any of your Bene Gesserit tricks on me again…and I will feed your tongue, and perhaps even other parts of you to my darlings here.” He snorts. “After all, I only need one part of you intact to make me an heir.”

“Do you understand, my love?” he inquires, his husky bass dripping mockery upon the last two words.

You swallow a large gulp of air. “I-I understand.”

He storms out of the room and you sink to the floor. His concubines dive upon you. They nudge you to the tub and remove the clothes off your quivering frame.

The blood, grease and dirt is scrubbed off your flesh. Scented oils are massaged into your skin and hair. A dress is wrapped around your body.

You numbly let it all happen, defeat sinking its hooks deep inside your soul.

The farce of a wedding ceremony flies by in a blur.

Baron Vladimir and your mother are both in attendance, the two wearing satisfaction on their faces, albeit in different manners. While the Baron is smug, your mother is attentive. Not a single emotion betrays her face and you feel thoroughly abandoned.

Before the ceremony, she mumbles in your ear that the Reverend Mother requested a girl-child. You know the process, have been taught how it’s done. But it’s a cruel reminder…that you are nothing more than a tool in the larger schemes of the Bene Gesserit.

And that perhaps, your entire life you have simply been your mother’s mission. Maybe she even feels relief to be delivered from her duty.

The thought overwhelms you with sadness.

You stand before Feyd-Rautha in a flowing white dress while he dons black from head to toe.

He astonishes you by uttering his vows with the utmost seriousness, swearing to protect and cherish you until death forces the two of you apart. Death...In that moment, you find yourself silently wishing for its swift, imminent arrival.

When the Harkonnen priest whirls to you, the words stick to your throat, refusing to unfurl from your tongue.

“Does the bride consent to the match?” the officiant repeats.

Shell-shocked, you shiver in your spot. Feyd-Rautha’s mouth quirks upward.

“Oh, she consents. She is simply too overwhelmed with happiness to speak,” he replies on your behalf, openly taunting you.

You grimace as he slices the inside of your palm with a dagger and brings it to its lips. Your blood coats his mouth and his tongue flicks out. He hums at the taste, a smile blooming on his face. He does the same to himself, digging even deeper in his alabaster flesh. You flinch as he presses his bloody palm against the bottom of your face.

The Harkonnen wedding ritual concludes with him planting a rough kiss on your lips. He shoves his tongue inside your mouth, pulling you against him.

When the ceremony ends, he hoists you in his arms and takes you to his bed.

As promised, he lays his claim on your body right away.

Your wedding dress is ripped open with a few precise slashes of his knife. Your insides coil, the fear of him driving the weapon through your soft flesh keeping you docile underneath him. You don’t say a word, your tongue shackled by his earlier threat. He takes a moment to drink you in, relishing the rapid rise and fall of your chest as he drags the tip of his blade across your skin. He savors your fear like the sweetest offering, growing harder against your thigh as you tremble beneath him.

His black-toothed grin freezes the blood in your veins.

“My pretty little pet…all mine to play with, finally,” he rasps.

There’s no gentleness in the way he explores your body, scratching and nipping at your flesh as if to make sure no one dares doubt whom you belong to when you leave his chambers. Every plea for him to slow down is met with renewed ferocity. He tastes and fondles every inch of your quivering flesh. Your nipples pebble under his palms. Your core ignites below his tongue. Pleasure and pain mingle in sinful, twisted harmony.

Your back folds and your eyes roll back as a myriad of confounding sensations assaults your senses.

As he buries himself inside you to the hilt, he frees a satisfied grunt.

Pain clamors through you when he starts to move. Your walls catch fire at the aching, brutal stretch.

Holding your wrists above your head, he pours every ounce of lust and aggression inside you. You feel it in every stab inside your core.

His pale, muscular form pins you to the bed as he thrusts deeper inside you, reaching a tender spot that has you releasing an ear-splitting scream. You squirm over the soaked sheets as he takes you again and again, the mix of blood and arousal coating his length easing his blunt intrusion. Your helpless wails mingle with his feral moans.

Raspy words in the coarse Harkonnen tongue are heatedly whispered into your ear. You don’t understand any of them and it makes your terror grow.

You feel as if you will break, shatter at the seams beneath his rough, careless touch.

The agony seems to stretch into eternity.

Feyd-Rautha’s lips skate across your bruised cheek.

“Do not fret, pet. I shall aim not to break you just yet,” he teases, sinister promises lurking in his lewd inflection. “Not when our fun has just begun.”

A single wayward tear traces a slow path down your cheek.

He greedily licks it, purring at the taste of your misery.

You feel him strain against you as he nears his peak, his thrusts getting slower and deeper. He comes with a deep roar.

The na-Baron spills his seed inside you. Your eyes shut. Power flows inside your womb as you conjure the right outcome.

A girl they desired. A girl they shall have. As you writhe beneath Feyd-Rautha, forced to bear his rough, bruising touch, you wish your daughter fierce and strong.

Strong enough to pluck the stars from the heavens. Strong enough to unweave the tangled threads of time.

Strong enough to twist the arm of fate itself if she wills it.

#feyd rautha #feyd rautha x reader #feyd-rautha #dune fanfiction #feyd rautha harkonnen #dune part 2 #dune #feyd rautha harkonnen x reader #dark fic

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baldursgate3tempobsessed · 1 year ago

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Please let Astarion meet Tav's family and have a younger sibling like 6 be like im gonna marry the prince points at Astarion.

Tav : Sorry, im married to the prince

NO IM GONNA MARRY THE PRINCE

That's so fucking cute kill me. But I just realized AFTER I finished it I read this wrong 😭😭 I read it as "marry" instead of "married" so whoops now it's an asking for your hand in marriage fic.

Also, I'm going to make this a weird little, unofficial, alternate reality, off shoot of this fic to explain away why Astarion can be in the sun without ascending because I am ~lazy~

Quick summary if you didn't read it, Tav serves Selune, gets a blessing for all the good work, and uses it to cure the anti-light issue of the vampirism (but not all of it). It's not a literal extension of that fic but I'm stealing my own plot explanations. That's it! Now here we go:

Astarion wasn't nervous per se. He was just... on edge. And the two-week journey it took to get here wasn't helping things, not when it gave him so much time to ruminate in his thoughts. He never expected to be in the position of "meeting the family," let alone in anticipation for asking for someone's hand in marriage.

Astarion wasn't even quite sure how his life got here. He had always fantasized that a life without Cazador would be one of selfish hedonism, not one where he would be legitimately concerned about a damn six year old sibling's first impression of him.

But then you came along, effortlessly shattering all of his grandiose plans with a batt of your eyelashes. Perhaps the entire journey of falling in love was more complicated, but it felt like it was that simple. In hindsight, he never stood a chance against you, but it was hilarious that there was a time he ever thought he did.

All of his prior dreams and fantasies felt like nothing in comparison to just being with you. It had been a year since you both saved the Sword Coast, a beautiful, fantastic year. That had ended with him somehow more in love with you now than when he first confessed. Selune's blessing had certainly helped with that he was sure. He still couldn't quite believe that you would use a god's blessing on him of all people, but gods, was he appreciative. Because being able to walk in the sun again meant that he could live the life he wanted, with no restrictions. He could be the partner you deserved, the kind that a father would happily say yes to when asking for your hand.

Which brought him back to his current dilemma. Perhaps he hadn't seen any of your family members in the time you'd been together, but he had heard plenty. You loved them all to death, especially your little sister. You wrote to them constantly, the mere sight of a letter from your parents enough to put you in a great mood for the rest of the day. He was aware that your mother was supposedly a saint, a fact that your own father had instilled in you often. He knew that they had a wonderful, loving marriage and were both higher ups in the Church of Selune. A fact that Astarion didn't particularly enjoy.

As grateful to the moon goddess as he was, he was aware that you were an expectation to the very normal belief that vampires were bad. And that marrying one was one of the stupidest things you could ever do from an average person's perspective, let alone a Selunite.

Why you hadn't done the smart thing and lied about what he was, Astarion would never know. But he did know that the thought of their rejection over his admittedly sordid history was putting him in a tailspin.

"They're going to love you," You said for the hundredth time, giving his hand a squeeze as you led him up the steps to your childhood home, "You have nothing to worry about sweetheart. I promise."

Astarion highly doubted that, but you were already knocking on the front door before he had a chance to argue. The door instantly slammed open, a beaming child already launching themselves at you before Astarion could process what was happening.

But you were more prepared them he was. You effortlessly caught them in your arms, laughing at their excited shouting, "Titi! You're late!"

So this was the famous Arabeth.

"No, I'm not!" You laughed as you settled her on your hip, "And what happened to my little girl's manners huh? You haven't even introduced yourself yet."

The child glanced over at him, like she was just realizing for the first time that someone else was standing over there. She looked a little shocked at the sight of him, staring at him with wide eyes. Wide enough for Astarion to start to wonder if something was on his face.

He gave her a little wave only for her to bury her face into your shoulder, peeking out at him with her lips pursed. Which was not the best start to the whole making his darling's family actually like him plan.

"Well, as you've probably guessed this is Arabeth. She's just a little shy," You reassured as you stepped inside, muttering a quick invitation inside under your breath. He appreciated that, he didn't need the whole house to be reminded of his... limitations.

"But she'll get over it soon enough," You continued as you called into the house, "Mom? Dad? We're here!"

And just like that they were rushing into the room, acting just as excited as your sister had been. Your mother wasted no time in smothering your face with kisses while your father swept you up into a hug. It was a rather impressive display of coordination, considering how they hadn't managed to knock you and your sister to the floor in the process. Astarion was pretty sure they were both saying something along the lines of We missed you! But it was hard to tell with all of you so tangled up in each other.

It was heartwarming to see, in all honestly. Of course such a loving person would come from an equally loving family, what else would he expect?

Though he certainly hadn't been expecting for your mother to throw her arms around him next. She brought him into a tight hug before looking him up and down, "So you're Astarion huh?"

She turned back to you, grinning ear to ear with her hands set on Astarion's shoulders, "He's so handsome! Selune help us, do you remember the last boy you brought home? He had a nose the length of my arm-"

"And that's enough of that," You said with a strained laugh, pulling your eccentric mother back a few inches, "And we've talked about the impromptu hugs. What happened to asking for permission?"

"Sorry, sorry!" She said with a wave of her hand, "Let me try again. I'm Seliras, and this is my husband-"

"Marcoul," Your father interrupted, putting his hand out for Astarion to shake, "It's been awhile since we've met a boyfriend."

"He's a little more than that," You said with a sigh as everyone exchanged pleasantries.

"We'll be the judge of that," Marcoul said with a sharp but friendly grin, the grip he had on Astarion's hand briefly tightening before he let go, "From what we've heard, you're quite the character aren't you?"

Ah, so the interrogating was starting early then. It was nothing that Astarion hadn't expected. Besides, turning up the charm was his strong suit, even when he was uncharacteristically nervous.

Astarion smiled back at him, "You've heard right. And I'm more than happy to answer any questions you might have."

"Oh gods please don't say that," You groaned, but it was too late. Your parents were already leading him to sit, rapid-fire questions coming out of their mouth.

Where are you from? How did you meet? Are you serious about our Tav? What's your religion? Where's your family? What are your plans?

But Astarion answered them all, with only mild censorship for the child's sake. The child who suddenly couldn't stop staring at him. It wasn't exactly easy to sell himself as a future husband when he was a vampiric ex-slave, but he made do.

It was an overwhelming experience to say the least, but not necessarily an unpleasant one. That was one good thing about trying to marry into a family of zealots, it was a lot easier to convince them of your virtue when you received a personal blessing from their goddess.

By the end of the night, they were all throughly appeased, enough so to get off the topic of him for a moment.

"You look a little young to have a thirty-year old child," Astarion said to your mother. He was actively trying to compliment her for obvious reasons, but he was also genuinely curious. She barely looked a day over 40.

"Oh we breed young," She said with a laugh, "We had Tav in our teenage years. Arabeth came much, much later. Our favorite little surprise. Gods, I can't think of a single person in our family who didn't have kids young. Our little Tav is the only exception to the rule."

"But maybe not for much longer, huh?" Marcoul added with a grin, yelping when you lightly smacked him over the head for the comment.

"Do not start the kid talk again!" You hissed out, cheeks red, "We've talked about this!"

Astarion couldn't help but grin at your reaction, charmed by your embarrassment. Though... the idea of the two of you having children together sure was an interesting thought.

Astarion felt a tug on his sleeve while you were distracted arguing with your parents. He turned, smiling when he saw your little sister standing there, still staring at him with wide-eyes.

She took a deep breath before blurting out, "You look like a prince. Are you?"

"Not exactly," Astarion said with a small laugh. That couldn't be further from the truth, "There's no blue blood in my veins."

She frowned, cocking her head at him like he wasn't making any sense. But then an idea obviously struck her as she excitedly asked, "But if you married a princess, then you'd become a prince too. Right?"

"I suppose?" Astarion answered with a shrug.

"So if I become a princess, and I marry you, then you'll be a prince?"

This conversation was quickly becoming out of his depth. But luckily enough for him you were swooping in to save him.

You laughed at her question, turning your attention back to the two of them, "No offense Bethy, but I'm going to be the one marrying this particular prince."

But Arabeth wasn't having it. She crossed her arms, looking at you like she was the one talking to a child, "You can't. Because if I don't marry him, he won't be a prince. So there. I have to do it."

She looked so serious, her facial expressions incredibly similar to your own. Astarion was holding back a loud laugh as you tried and failed to reason with her, "I can marry him without the royal status-"

"No! I'm marrying the prince!"

Your parents were doing a much worse job at hiding their reactions, both of them opening giggling behind their hands as you came up with a compromise.

"Okay, okay," You said with a sigh, kneeling down to look the small girl in the eye, "How about this? I marry him first. But only until you become a princess. Then he's all yours. Sound fair?"

She thought about it for a moment before nodding to herself, "Sounds fair."

Well Astarion wasn't going to get a better set-up then that. He turned to your father, his nerves coming back for a brief appearance, "I'm assuming now might be a good time to ask what I came here to ask. Though I do promise I only intending on asking for one of your children's hand in marriage."

Marcoul nodded slowly, his face unreadable as he spoke, "I mean no offense when I say this Astarion, but you aren't exactly who I imagined for my daughter."

"Dad don't-"

"Darling, let him finish," Astarion gently interrupted, his eyes still locked with your father's.

He took a deep breathe before continuing, "That said, I've never seen her so... herself with someone else before. So yes. The two of you can marry. On one condition."

"Anything," Astarion said instantly, nearly giddy at the fact that he was so close to the official yes, "Just name it."

"You have to have the wedding here," Seliras answered for him, a massive smile on her face, "No ifs, ands, or buts."

"And I get to be flower girl!" Arabeth chimed in, her past indignation completely forgotten as she climbed all over you, "And there has to be chocolate cake!"

"Oh gods, help us," You groaned, but Astarion was already nodding along. He couldn't give less than two shits where it happened or who was involved. He could scarcely believe that it was happening at all. But that was the last thing he had needed.

He already had the ring, the most amazing person he could ever fathom being with. Who actually wanted him back.

Now all he had to do was ask.

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wolfjackle-creates · 4 months ago

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Hi!! I haven't been on Tumblr for a while but I used to read a fic you made out of a prompt (?) Someone else made about Danny who freaked out when he realized the Waynes are the Bats and accidentally shot Bruce(?) And if I'm not mistaken you made a part 2 of it (idr remember if it was a wip or finished) but do you have a masterlist so I can re-read it :D? So sorry if I sound weird (´⌒｀;)

It is absolutely never weird to ask an author about their works!!!! Thanks so much for sending this in.

It's been ages since I've worked on this one, but it's definitely on my short list to get back to. Especially since I'm pretty close to having it finished?

Here's chapter 1 on AO3. And the Subscription Post.

Chapter 2 is limited to Tumblr right now, only two parts currently. Part 1 can be found here.

Currently it's called Want to Hold on and Feel I Belong. However, when I do start updating on AO3 again, I plan to change the name. (I'm just waiting so people who have subscribed are more likely to remember what they're getting an email about.) Mostly I refer to it as my Bad Reveal AU. Though I get that's not a great working name as that's usually reserved for the Fenton parents reacting badly rather than Danny reacting badly.

Also, as a thanks for reminding me that it's been a while since I've posted anything about this fic (or, well, in general), have the next bit!

Here's a random 1.5k.

-----

Having a potential lead so close meant the hours until J’onn’s arrival were spent in prep mode.

Every uniform had to be checked for the slightest damage and upgrades done where possible. Supplies and go-bags were organized so they could leave the moment they had a lead. Fuel levels in every vehicle were checked and topped off where necessary.

And finally, the zeta tube activated and J’onn stepped out. “Good day to all of you. I heard my assistance was needed?”

Bruce went to greet him. “J’onn. Danny’s room is upstairs. Did Clark explain the situation?”

“Yes. He said that your newest ward has density shifting powers and left things behind in his walls and floor before running away a few days ago.”

Bruce nodded sharply. “Follow me. Clark will show you where the items are hidden so you can retrieve them.”

Dick happily zipped up what felt like the hundredth bag he’d had to pack and joined them. “Hey, J’onn. Welcome. How have you been?”

“Greetings, Dick. It has been a long time since our last meeting. I have been well. I want to wish you luck in finding your brother swiftly and easily.”

Dick nodded his thanks. “Same. We’re really hoping he left behind something to help because we haven’t had much luck so far.” Dick pulled out his phone and notified the family of J’onn’s arrival and requested they meet in Danny’s room.

On the way, Bruce and Dick filled J’onn in on the situation. At the implication of government experimentation, he face went hard and he vowed he would help them however he could.

Clark, Jason, and Alfred were already there when the group arrived and the rest weren’t far behind. With everyone present, the room felt crowded.

“Where should I start?” J’onn asked Clark.

“Behind the NASA poster. I think that’s where he keeps the weapons. One of them is an object that looks like it might be the same as, or at least similar to, the weapon that shot Bruce.”

Under Clark’s direction, J’onn removed not just two more energy guns, but also a glowing-green net, a boomerang, a tube of lipstick, what looked like a weird, high-tech thermos, and a wooden baseball bat with a sticker that said “Fenton” on it.

Dick couldn’t help but whistle at the pile. “Damn, he was packing all this?”

“Apparently,” said Damian. But Dick could tell his youngest brother was impressed and mentally reassessing his beliefs of Danny. “Perhaps he is not as helpless as I previously believed.”

“Why’s he got lipstick?” asked Steph as she picked up the tube.

“Don’t!” ordered Bruce even as she opened it and released a laser beam that left a small scorch mark on the ceiling.

She stared in shock before laughing. “Oh, damn! When he comes back, I’m so asking if he could get me one of these. That’s so cool!”

“Can I see that?” asked Barbara.

“Wait until we’re in the cave,” said Bruce with a sigh. Both women grinned at him.

Dick reached down and grabbed the net. Despite the color, it seemed normal enough, maybe a little smoother than most rope he’d handled. He pulled out a pocket knife and was able to slice through one of the ropes easily enough. Jason came over to look at it with him.

“Anything weird about it?” he asked as he reached out to touch it. “Huh, that’s odd.”

“What’s odd about it? Seems pretty normal to me.”

“It just… It feels weird. It almost hurts to touch.” When Dick looked at him sharply, Jason quickly added, “It doesn’t hurt, but it feels like it should. If that makes sense.”

“Feels normal to me.” Dick showed him the break he’d made.

Jason shrugged. “Dunno, then. I just get a weird feeling from it.”

Damian picked up the energy gun, Tim the thermos, and Duke the boomerang when Alfred cleared his throat.

“Before we get distracted, might I remind you that there is more to find? We can bring everything down to the cave to examine them with no more damage to Master Danny’s room.”

Everyone sheepishly put down the things they were holding. Dick bit back a laugh when he noticed Clark push the baseball bat away from himself with his foot.

“So, J’onn,” Clark said. “I think the next area of interest is behind this poster.” He gestured at a poster of the horsehead nebula. Dick had helped Danny find it and hang it up and the kid had talked about nebulae for over an hour as they did. The memory caused his eyes to burn.

From this stash, J’onn pulled some notebooks and two external hard drives, which Barbara took. Dick and Bruce both grabbed a notebook. Dick opened his to the first page.

Journaling is such a stupid idea. I don’t have any time for it but Jazz says I need to get my feelings out. Pointless. So what if I can’t sleep and Skulker attacked me again today during English getting me another detention. Its not my fault! Shit, haven’t done that essay for Lancer. If I miss any more assignments he’s gonna fail me for real.

Everyone knew Danny had been failing before he’d been brought to them, but he’d refused to discuss why. Once he was in school in Gotham, he’d gotten straight A’s. Even if he did ask for the occasional help in English from Jason.

But this raised so many questions. Who was Skulker and why were they attacking Dick’s little brother during English class. He flipped through the pages. Interspersed between journal entries were drawings of schematics. Dick thought he recognized some of the designs as the weapons they’d uncovered.

His eyes caught on an entry that started with a string of curses.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. My parents saw Dani today. In ghost form. They actually managed to hit her. Only her second visit and I couldn’t keep her safe. Some big brother dad cousin whatever I am. I did get her to the Far Frozen. Frostbite fixed her up. Taught me what to do if it happens again, too. And gave me the medicines and supplies to do it. I’m so glad I have friends in the Zone now. It makes it so much easier. I can’t get the image of Dani’s blood staining my hands out of my mind. Going to Tuck’s tonight. I can’t be around my parents right now.

Stomach dropping, he flipped a few more pages until he found one with a photo. It was a grinning Danny with white hair and wearing a jumpsuit standing on a curved balcony. Behind him, spire buildings rose into the air, many rounded in a way not often found on Earth.

Clockwork took me to Mars today! Holy shit it is so cool. Just, everything. We went back to when they were thriving and I had to stop an invasion. But that’s not important. Everyone here can go intangible despite being alive. Some of their buildings don’t even have doors because they’d be pointless! And the plants and animals are all so different, too. Clockwork helped me find some books on Martian history and biology and evolution. He’s also gonna show me where the Martians exist in the Zone so I can learn their language. Maybe one day I can go to Krypton or Tamaran as well?

Dick stared back at the picture. It did have that distinctive feel of wrong that extraterrestrial landscapes always had. He swallowed. “Uh, J’onn?”

“Yes, Dick?”

“Um, Danny. This is his journal. He said he went to Mars. Before… Just, before. He’s got a picture. Is this real?” He handed the photo to J’onn who hesitated a moment before taking it.

J’onn froze as he stared at the simple image. “I… Yes. This is my home. How…?”

Dick shrugged and wished he had an answer for the last of the Martians. “Someone called Clockwork brought him there apparently. To stop some sort of invasion? He didn’t discuss that much. He was too interested in the planet and people to talk about what he did. He was hoping to visit Krypton and Tamaran, too. Also said something about Martians existing somewhere he called the Zone. He wanted to meet them to learn the language.”

The look on J’onn’s face at the mention of other Martians existing somewhere was heartbreaking. Maybe Dick shouldn’t have said anything? When Danny came home, would he maybe want to talk to J’onn about Mars?

With clear reluctance, J’onn handed the picture back. “This is your brother in the photo?”

“Yeah. I mean, Danny usually has black hair and blue eyes, but that’s him. Do you recognize him?”

J’onn nodded. “Of course. He is the Omen. His coming foretells death and destruction which he will then try to avert. I know what invasion he is speaking of, it is, was, taught in our history books. He saved all of Mars that day. We thought him a god.”

Dick’s mouth fell open. His little brother? A god?

-----

Did you enjoy your little surprise update tonight? Let me know what you think!

#dpxdc #bad reveal au #wolf writes #dick is trying to be a good brother #but he keeps feeling like he's failing #(he's not he just thinks he is)#i hope my vague descriptions of mars #are accurate enough to hold up #the door thing isn't based in any sort of canon #idk if there were any buildings on mars that eschewed doors #but i feel like it'd make sense if they did?

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notjustjavierpena · 8 months ago

Text

Terror

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: By popular demand! This turned awful in my brain very quickly. I know instantly that this won’t be everyone’s cup of tea, so please read the tags before jumping into this. Not everything is fun and games for hubby.

Summary: Javier doesn’t think that he has nightmares about Colombia anymore until he suddenly does. The difference is that he also has you and the family that you have given him.

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader (no y/n)

Tags: +18, graphic description of gun violence, some gore, PTSD night terrors, major character death (but not really), panic attacks, domestic, cuddles, hurt/comfort, family time, love confessions, pregnant reader dies in this dream

Word count: 2.6k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54592621

Terror

Javier searches and searches to no avail. He walks with frantic determination between burning cars and bullet shells, occasionally hitting the latter with the tips of his shoes so they go cascading down the asphalt with a clinking sound. He doesn’t trip on them though, as his steps are sure, moving around the chaotic scene of the aftermath of an ambush by grabbing at whatever he can to push himself forward.

He knows where he is but he doesn’t remember getting here, and he has no clue if he was involved in the shooting that has evidently occurred here. However, when he looks down at himself, he finds no bullet wounds and no tactical gear either. So why does he think that you are here? He yelps as he accidentally grabs the hood of a car that seems to have been burning for a while, the metal so hot that it scorches his skin. The heat radiating from the vehicle makes his body prickle with sweat, his shirt clinging uncomfortably to his skin that is riddled with damp sweat from anxiety. He clutches his burnt hand and continues down the never-ending street.

Where are you? Where are they? He searches through several empty cars, nearly ripping the doors off of their hinges to get to you quicker. Perhaps you know where they are but he doesn’t even know where you are.

When he gets to what feels like the hundredth car, finally reaching the end of the road that somehow resembles a labyrinth despite only moving forward, panic has started to rise in his throat. He calls for you but you don’t answer, and then he calls for Lucas in case he has managed to hide himself and his sibling somewhere.

“Lucas! It’s alright, it’s just me!” He yells out but it’s just the echo of his own voice that answers him, “You can come out now, it’s over, te prome— (I promi—).”

Javier has turned the corner. It is the sight of Horatio Carrillo’s face that makes him realize that this isn’t real. Carrillo is dead, and he has been for nearly twenty years. Javier will never forgive himself for not having been there. He should have been there with everyone. It should have been him; he had had nothing waiting for him back in Laredo.

In front of him, a row of children and teenagers are kneeling but he doesn’t recognize any of their faces. He has seen this scene before. He remembers doing nothing back then, and the thought is enough to make his gut twist with guilt and nausea even if nothing could have been done to change Carrillo’s attitude towards the kids. He hears a gunshot and a young child falls to the ground, head split open from the way the bullet has torn through soft, young flesh. He flinches in a way that he didn’t back then, in a way that only a man who is a father can.

Carrillo’s blank and indifferent stare terrifies him to the point where he wishes that he could wake up. It is clear that this is a nightmare, so why hasn’t he woken up yet? Aren’t you supposed to wake up when you have figured it all out? He tries pinching his arm but nothing happens, and the claustrophobia of being stuck in his own head makes his chest constrict and his heart, too big for his rib cage by now, hammer with the speed of a hummingbird’s wings.

The stare he is watching is not one of being rid of emotion but rather the look that washes over a face when the person it belongs to is dead. His old colleague is standing in front of him in a zombie-like state and Javier cannot shake the feeling that Carrillo looks less like a person and more like a thing.

“Carrillo,” he says sternly. On the ground, the blood oozes towards his feet and he shifts to avoid it soaking through his shoes.

His colleague turns to him but doesn’t say anything. He still has the weapon in his hand, arm stretched out, and pointing the gun at the row of innocent children. Javier speaks quietly despite his anxiety, “C’mon, they’re just kids. Look at them; they’re just ki—“

He turns to look at the kneeling figures but the faces aren’t unknown to him anymore. His blood runs cold at the sight of his eldest son who has his arms stretched out to hold Inés close to his body, effectively shielding her from any shot that may be coming at her at any moment.

“Lucas,” he croaks, “¿Dónde está tu madre (Where is your mother)?”

“I don’t know, Dad,” his son replies, “I’m scared.”

“I know, don’t worry, I— I’m gonna take care of it,” he replies with a dizzying heartbeat followed by the urge to throw up.

It’s then that you appear too. His heart skips a beat as you materialize right behind your kids, pregnant with his child and vulnerable as tears stream down your cheeks. Your arms are in front of you, wrapped around your children as you try to protect them while whimpering in a way that makes Javier more than desperate. He tries to sound more assertive than anxious but listening to his own voice, he doesn’t feel very successful. He turns back to Carrillo who hasn’t moved the firearm even an inch, “For fuck’s sake, get that gun away from my family!”

“Están trabajando para Escobar, Peña. Si quieres justicia, entonces esta es la única manera (They are working for Escobar, Peña. If you want justice, this is the only way),” is the only reply he gets. Carrillo spits at the ground.

Javier takes a step forward but suddenly, a shot is fired at his feet and he is forced to jump back with his hands in the air. His eyes are pleading, his voice wavering, “Jesus Christ, Carrillo, they’re not working for him. Put the damn gun down! They’re mine. They are my kids. You’re pointing a gun at my wife!”

Lucas shifts on his spot on the ground. His knees can barely hold himself up anymore, gravel gnawing at his kneecaps but Javier holds out a hand to stop him, “Don’t move, mijo (my son). I know you’re scared but—“

But Lucas’ eyes are wet with terrified tears. He panics, throws himself to the side to crawl away and the ghost of Javier’s previous colleague seems to come to the conclusion that it is too risky to attempt a shot in the boy’s direction in case he misses, so instead—

Javier flinches at the loud sound of the gun going off. You lie on the ground in the next moment. He lets out a cry of anguish, crawling across the gravel road to get to you until his hands are scraped and his knees are dirty. The love of his life and his unborn child.

“No,” he yells as tears spring from his eyes. He clutches at you whilst you breathe rapidly and try to hold onto him as well but your grip is slowly loosening on him with every beat of your heart. He can see the way your pulse slows in how your clothes soak slower and slower, knows where it is going. You try to say something but he cannot understand it, your voice having been replaced by gurgles of blood, “No don’t try to talk, baby. Shit, I— look, it’s not even that bad. Shh, it’s okay, baby. It’s not even that bad, it’s fine, you’re gonna be fine, mi vida (my life). You and the baby. I promise.”

The same blank stare as the one that Carrillo sports washes over your face. He says your name over and over, “Mi amor (my love), no, no, look at me. No, no, no no no.”

Inés has started screaming in panic. She’s crying for you in the most heart-wrenching manner, terrified when you don’t react to her words like you always do. Her pitch climbs with each passing second but Javier has no strength to soothe his daughter because he yells your name until it feels like he cannot breathe.

Lucas yells for his mother in the background. The agony of hearing his children cry mixed with hearing you say nothing is too much for him. He panics, shakes you violently—

He jolts awake in the next moment to the sound of your voice. Fear still has him in its grip and leaves him disoriented, ready to fight whatever comes his way. He hyperventilates until he feels lightheaded and tries to figure out where he is, beads of cold sweat having collected on his forehead during his restless sleep.

“Javi,” you say with a hand on his shoulder and he whips his head around to face you. A moment ago, your eyes had been glazed over by death.

Immediately, he grabs your wrist in an iron grip. You place your other hand on top of his, speaking softly, “Javier. Let go.”

“Are you alright?” He chokes out and grips you harder, eyes wild in the dimly lit bedroom. He wants to run a million miles, “Are you alright?”

“I am okay, baby. We’re both safe,” you reassure him with a hand on your pregnant belly. Tears start to roll down his cheeks. He is unable to shake the image of you lying dead on the ground, “Shh…”

“Are you sure?” He whimpers, eyes flickering from your face to your stomach and back to your face again.

“Yes. It was just a bad dream. It was just a nightmare,” your voice is still ever so gentle and nowhere near the way it had been in his state of terror. He releases the clutch on your arm and you carefully run a hand over his forehead, “Breathe. Hold my hand. Tell me you love me.”

You offer your free hand to him and he carefully takes it, trying to convince himself that you won’t slip away from him in the dark bedroom. You squeeze his hand slightly. It’s a silly thing you came up with years ago.

“I love you,” he says quietly, already feeling a little better but when you say it back ever so gently, he finds himself bursting into tears. He cries and it is the kind that comes from the very bottom of one’s lungs; frantic and breathy sobs that sound almost painful.

He thought that the nightmares had stopped. They had been bad when he first met you, and he connected it to his decreasing alcohol consumption because back in Colombia, he was sometimes too boozed up to even dream. However, meeting you - marrying you - had been a glimpse into a future where he could get better because you were together. So why does his brain still do this once in a while?

“Pensé que te había perdido para siempre (I thought I had lost you forever),” he sobs when you engulf him in your arms. He rests his head against your soft chest, grabbing onto whatever he can of you to make sure you are real. It’s only times like these when his strong, broad hands feel unsure on your skin.

“Oh, baby. I’m right here,” you rock him carefully in a way that a mother does, “I’m not going anywhere, te prometo (I promise you).”

“No puedo vivir sin ti (I can’t live without you),” he continues. You reassure him that he won’t have to, that by then, someone will have discovered eternal life or made all of you into kind-hearted robots. Despite the chuckle he lets out, you also let him cry for as long as he needs to.

It takes you a while to calm him down again, resting your chin on top of his head as he lets himself fall into you instead of going out of his mind. He mumbles, “Where are the kids? Where’s Inés?”

“They’re in bed,” you promise him, arms cradling him and rubbing his back until his breathing starts to slow again, “They’re okay. They’re just asleep.”

Except they are not asleep. Your hand stops moving on his back, and he looks up at you to find your eyes on the door.

“Inés. Lucas. Stop standing at the door,” you say gently.

“Sorry,” they say in unison.

Relief floods Javier’s system at the sound of his children’s voices. His chest expands as he breathes in deeply for what feels like the first time since he woke up. He watches their little faces, hears the click of the lamp on your nightstand as you turn on the light.

“Is Daddy okay?” Inés asks carefully. Her eyes tell Javier that he has noticed the tears on her father’s face.

“We heard you yelling,” Lucas elaborates to his father, “Inés didn’t want to go in here alone. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize, sweetie,” your voice is sweet and calm. It is in these moments that he loves you the most; when you prove to be the anchor in any storm, knows that the only times he might actually get a good night's rest is when you are right here beside him.

“Come here, mis amores (my loves),” he scoots a little away from you to open his arms. His children look uncertain for a moment but then Inés rushes forward to climb into bed and into his embrace. Lucas follows a moment after, the both of them earning a kiss on top of their heads.

Inés’ eyes are wide as she stares up at him, “Papá, you scared me.”

“I had a bad dream,” he explains to both of them and attempts to smile, pulling them closer to his chest. They make faces as they are squished but he doesn’t let go, “but I’m okay now. I’m sorry for waking you.”

“Then why are you crying?” Lucas gets out of the embrace to study his face, shocked to see the tears running down until they drip down from his chin.

“Daddy! You are crying!” Inés parrots her older brother as she notices too. She kneels in front of her father and tilts her head.

“I am?” He asks, pretending not to know. Inés’ tiny hand reaches to wipe a few tears away without much success and his heart clenches in his chest with how lucky he feels to have such a beautiful family.

“It’s okay to cry,” Lucas explains softly, “That’s what Mom says.”

“Alright, let’s give your father some space,” you lock eyes with your husband, cup his cheek for a moment before brushing away the last traces of tears from his face with the back of your hand. He smiles at you and it is completely genuine for the first time.

“I don’t want to sleep,” Inés protests loudly.

“What if you both sleep in here for the rest of the night?” You bargain whilst still smiling at Javier, however a little more goofily now, “Just for tonight.”

Lucas is already crawling under the covers to cuddle up next to you, and Inés lays down next to her father. It takes a moment of quiet chatter and soothing caresses to make them both fall asleep again, their bodies exhausted from being awake in the middle of the early hours of the morning.

Javier can’t fall back asleep but from the way you breathe, he can tell that sleep hasn’t found you either.

Outside, the first light of dawn has begun to filter through the curtains. There’s a warmer glow in the room now, and he peeks at you from where he lies, looking like someone catching a glimpse of their crush.

"I love you," he whispers, his voice barely audible.

You turn your head to face him and smile tenderly, the morning glow illuminating you from behind. You are so beautiful, he thinks, beautiful and pregnant, and he is so lucky.

Your voice is filled with genuine happiness, warm and loving. You look down at your sleeping children, place a hand on your bump, and then look back up at him, "We love you too.”

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

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little-diable · 1 year ago

Text

I wish I didn’t, but I do - Aaron Hotchner (smut)

Listen, I’m currently on a run with writing pwp, but I ain’t sorry for it. Y’all just have to endure it. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves.xxx

Summary: The reader and Aaron have to share a bed as they hunt yet another unsub, but Aaron growing jealous of an officer flirting with the reader just makes things even worse; pwp

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, oral, choking, dom!Aaron, degrading, jealousy, one bed trope, colleagues to lovers, age gap (without any age specified)

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader (2.3k words)

“You okay?” Her voice was quiet, dripping with tiredness as she sipped on her coffee, eyes set on Aaron. He was wearing his all too familiar frown, only nodding his head, rereading through their new files for what appeared to be the hundredth time. (Y/n) kept looking at him for a few more moments before she turned away from him with a sigh, gaze finding the blurring by clouds.

Yet another case was calling them away from home, flying across the country to follow the few details they had so far, hoping to find their unsub. It was a cruel case, a bloody case, a case that would keep them all up for nights on end, and yet neither of them even dared to think about sitting this one out. Like lost pilgrims making their way through unfamiliar territories, focused on their final destination.

Tiredness swapped through (y/n)‘s system, forcing her eyes to flutter close. It took her a few seconds to grow calm, letting a yawn claw through her. Within another second she felt Aaron move next to her, shuffling closer to allow (y/n) to rest her head on his shoulder. Even though her tiredness guided her, her mind didn’t stop racing, hyperfocusing on the man sitting next to her.

It had been years since (y/n) had joined the team, following them through the country to chase unsubs. And even though she had stumbled into this circle of colleagues, forming their own family, she still hasn't adapted to being around Aaron Hotchner. He was everything she wasn’t, perhaps that’s what kept her curious, but deep down (y/n) was all too aware of what kept her mind chained to the thought of Aaron. Details that forced her mind to work all through the nights where she desperately needed to catch up on much needed hours of sleep.

……

“Who’ll room with who?” (Y/n) barely paid Aaron’s words any of her attention, eyes focused on her phone. Since she had used the past hours to sleep, she was now reading through their files, trying to remember all the little details they needed to keep on building the profile.

“(Y/n)?” This time Aaron managed to grasp her attention, wide eyes flickering up from the screen of her phone. “You’re with me.”

It took her a second to jump into action, choking on the surprised breath of air leaving her. Her body followed Aaron through the small hotel, into the room they’d share for the upcoming days. Neither of them said a word as they took in the double bed, well neither of them said a word to the other that is.

Wrapped in a blanket of silence the both of them unpacked their bags, cherishing the calmness this room offered till the moment where they’d leave to drive towards the police station. Her fingers tingled, just like the rest of her body, desperately wanting to reach out to Aaron, wanting to feel his hands pressed against her skin - mere dreams that could probably get her fired if she’d ever speak them out loud.

She felt his eyes on her, following (y/n) around like a gun trying to focus on a target, preparing to pull the trigger. Would he speak up? Would he ask her for her opinion on something? But Aaron kept quiet, unlike her spiraling thoughts, focusing on the scent of his ever present cologne clinging to her like a memory of a day she wouldn’t ever want to forget.

As if she could ever forget about Aaron Hotchner.

……

“What was that?” Aaron’s voice boomed through the black SUV, words shaking through (y/n)‘s tense body. She was heavily breathing, just like he was, riled up by the sudden wave of anger leaving him to try and drown her.

“What was what, Aaron?” His eyes momentarily flickered from the road ahead to meet hers. Perhaps he hadn’t expected (y/n) to match the angry tone of his voice. Perhaps he had thought that she’d instantly understand what he was hinting at. But she wasn’t, not understanding what he wanted from her at all.

“Flirting while we’re on the clock? Do you realise how unprofessional you made yourself appear?” A humourless laugh left (y/n), eyes zoning in on his handsome features. Every movement, every microexpression of his told her everything she needed to know. No matter how long Aaron has been in their business, he still didn’t manage to hide the jealousy thumping through his veins, unable to think straight.

“Are you kidding me right now? Please tell me you’re fucking kidding me right now, Aaron.” With his foot finding the break all too quickly the SUV screeched to a halt. Both were heavily breathing, eyes connected for a few more seconds till he undid his seatbelt, stepping out of the car. She followed him into the hotel, teeth buried in her lower lip to try and keep quiet, at least till they’d find some kind of shelter in their shared room.

“I didn’t expect this kind of behaviour from you; not from you (y/n). Do you think this is some kind of joke? Do you think we have enough time on our hands to just-“ no further word managed to leave the tall man, forced to shut up by (y/n)’s lips finding his. She was seething, every inch of her body burned in anger, but the desperate need to prove to Aaron that she had no interest in the officer who had been a tad bit too friendly with her kept her moving.

Aaron instantly replied to the kiss, hands finding her sides as her fingers worked on shuffling his suit jacket down his muscular arms. Their hearts were racing, lungs burning due to the lack of air filling them, lips already somewhat swollen.

“As a profiler you should have noticed my feelings for you by now, Aaron. I didn’t speak more than three words with the officer, I promise.” The confession was whispered against his lips, not daring to part, anxiously waiting for his reply. Aaron’s fingers found her chin, forcing (y/n) to look at him once again. No longer was his expression filled with anger and hatred, growing softer with every passing second.

“Well, it seems like we both don’t know how to do our job. I was jealous of him, I didn’t like the way he looked at you. But you still need to be punished, you need to learn your lesson, sweetheart.” With a gasp rippling through her, (y/n) was pushed onto the mattress, staring up at Aaron with wide eyes. She was forced to watch the man undo the buttons of his sleeves, rolling the fabric of his black dress shirt up to his elbows. “Take off your clothes for me.”

(Y/n) instantly snapped into motion, not breaking eye contact once. One by one her clothing pieces fell to the ground, exposing her goosebump covered body to his hungry eyes. Aaron settled between her thighs, eyes breaking contact with hers to look at her cunt, groaning at the sight of her arousal glistening on her skin.

“You’re soaked, baby. What a pathetic slut you are, I haven’t even touched you yet, but you’re already dripping. Tell me, do you enjoy seeing me angry?” A gasp left (y/n) as Aaron brushed his fingers through her slit, spreading her arousal on her pulsing bundle of nerves, slowly moving in circular motion. “Speak up when you’re told to.”

“Fuck, yes I do.” She hated how her voice trembled, making her appear even more desperate, but (y/n) didn’t find the time to spend her trembling voice any of her attention, head thrown back as Aaron’s mouth found her heat, rough tongue brushing over her folds. No words were spoken as he wrapped one arm around her quivering thigh, fingers teasing her entrance.

He was eating her out like a starving man, needing the taste of her to survive like air flushing through his lungs, the elixir of life humankind has been searching for ever since the start of their timeline.

“What do you think, can you take another?” Aaron’s glistening eyes met her dilated pupils, lust blown, almost fully black. She needed a moment to understand what he was talking about, choking on her moan as Aaron curled his fingers against her swollen spot. “Of course you can, a whore like you likes to be stretched, don’t you?”

(Y/n) couldn’t reply, no longer able to produce any sounds but her moans. She was trembling, shaking, unable to keep her sounds bottled in. Aaron fucked her fast with his fingers, adding yet another as he sucked on her clit, pushing her closer and closer to the edge. He didn’t give her any time to be embarrassed about how quickly her orgasm was approaching, not wanting to hold it back since she had been dreaming about this happening ever since she had met him.

“Aaron, I - oh god,” her breaths grew shallow, hands grasping the blanket she was laying on, trying to claw her fingernails into the fabric as if she was scared that something could try to pull her away from this very moment. He added more speed to the movements of his fingers, tongue brushing against her clit over and over again, till she came with a moan of his name.

(Y/n)’s orgasm rocked through her, sputtering through her veins like a bullet piercing through different layers of wood. One by one. She kept falling, not able to control her body as the intense feeling kept holding her hostage. Aaron looked at her with awe laced in his gaze, smirking against her folds as he slowly rose to his feet.

His cock left a prominent bulge, pressing against the fabric of his dark trousers, begging to be freed. Slowly Aaron pulled his clothes off his body, taking his time, teasingly, building up the tension once again.

(Y/n) was still panting, and yet she couldn’t wait to feel him buried inside of her, fucking her into the mattress like a man on a mission. And on a mission Aaron Hotchner certainly was. He turned from her to fish a condom out of his wallet, connecting their eyes once again as he moved closer, rolling it down his twitching cock before positioning himself against her entrance.

“You can still tell me to stop, I won’t be mad, promise.” His whispers left her smiling, making (y/n) shake her head as she wrapped her arm around his neck, pulling Aaron in for a kiss. Her moans clawed through her, dampened by his kiss as he pushed into her.

Both needed a few seconds to adjust, walls fluttering around him, before Aaron began to build a slow rhythm. Their moans echoed through the room, followed by the sounds of their bodies meeting every few seconds. Both knew that what they were doing was awfully wrong, going against every law they were supposed to follow, and yet neither of them could care about their hierarchy at this very moment, trusting one another fully.

“You’re so fucking tight, fuck, I’ve been waiting to bury myself inside your cunt for years, such a slut for other men and yet you kept away from me for so long. I wish I didn’t love you like this, but I do, fuck.” An almost desperate whine left (y/n), trying to swallow down another moan as her mind began to realize what Aaron just confessed. It took her another deep breath before she could speak up, eyes struggling to stay open.

“I love you too, so much, Aaron.” Another kiss was shared, his thrusts grew rougher, faster, set on properly claiming her. Sobs left (y/n), desperate sounds that only spurred him on to push her towards the edge once again.

Their bodies were intertwined, just like their souls, forming a strong bond that would only grow within time, outliving any fights, any struggles they’d eventually face. Made to love, made to fight, made to grow old together.

„I wanted to kiss you at the station, wanted to claim you as mine right there, in front of his eyes.“ Her walls clenched around his cock, drawing a sharp breath from Aaron. His hand found her throat, pinning her down as he buried himself even deeper inside her tightness. “You would have liked that, am I right, sweetheart?”

“Mhm, yes, I’m yours, only yours.” She was about to let go, struggling to keep on breathing as Aaron tightened his grip on her throat. Her eyes were forced open, staring into his dark pupils, reminding her of the gate of darkness she’d eventually have to cross, finding comfort in the thick blanket he wrapped around her. Once again she called his name, letting go as he fucked her through her high.

A string of curses left Aaron, forcing him to follow her moments later, releasing himself into the condom. Both were panting, chests heavily rising and falling, sharing a kiss or two before he slowly parted from her.

No words were spoken as Aaron took care of her, carefully cleaning her, taking his time with (y/n). Moments later he found himself lying next to her, smiling down on her. Once again her tiredness stuck to her features, forcing a yaw out of her as she kissed his naked chest.

It’ll take them a while to adjust to their new relationship, keeping it a secret for as long as possible, remembering every moment on the nights they’ll share. But no matter what, the two will stick together, clinging to one another for nights and years to come.

#Aaron Hotchner smut #Aaron Hotch imagine #Aaron Hotchner x Reader #criminal minds imagine

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galacii-gallery · 9 months ago

Text

Shattered Fates AU: The Beginning [ Chapter 1. ]

Read it on Ao3 ( Edit: fixed the problem )

read it below! [ Exclusive Images Included ]

The battlefield, where it began… adorned with statues of the villagers they knew before, ruined buildings that used to be tall… the stump where their ‘mother’ laid. It was all there, and they were too… the guardians of this world, ending it all again with conflict. Such a cruel fate, these two. Arrows pierced in tar, while on the other side of the field was a skeleton covered in yellow, dripping from their chest and skull, a tendril impaled the being; keeping him still in this. The two souls looked to each other… one hoped that the other would give up, the other had differing intrusive thoughts.

“Again, I win and you… the hero of this story.”

he pulls the drowsy target close, face to face with a grin he then speaks truthfully.

“...you’re dying- certainly not like every other fairy tale huh?”

Coughing erupts from the dreamer, then they glance up to Nightmare

“...you’re right.”

even in their weak state, they smile

“though next time, perhaps this story of ours will have a nicer end.”

“Next time? Ha- you wish.”

the triumphant sneered.

“ I don’t wish, It just happens.. Though I doubt you’d understand.”

Dream then spoke of a distant concept, one believed that only particular humans could possess.

“not this time, not the next… not the four hundredth either… ha, will things ever change?”

“You’re insane… crazy even, you should know that we only have one chance.”

their head disdains, vision starting to get drowned by yellow. A faint whisper left his teeth, silence filled the air.

The entity looms over, it was clear by now it ate his brother entirely in this life too.. It ‘freed’ them from their sadness.

Nightmare brought his hand to Dreams neck, holding it up and softly told them.

his grip loosened, the Dreamers head dropped more. One part of Nightmare felt.. Bad, however it was flooded out by the images which it provided; how Dream was the one to bring this upon himself.. By not helping but instead fighting what he has become.

. . .“Finally kicking the bucket?”

“Maybe things will change... In your next run possibly?~”

The Nightmare commented, after hearing Dreams' continuing silence.

Their grin twisted and contorted, his tone became that of someone making fun of the other.

A thud could be heard in the place where it all began, a vision of Nightmare walking away from the scene… turned to pitch black. The ringing in Dreams head began to vanish, becoming hushed.

Their words haunted dream, next run?... ha. Sure, next run. Then we’ll see what’ll change… surely.

Dream lifts their head with the last of the energy that stayed within their core, something began to break in him… not just his heart. Their sunken eyes, the one not broken hues darkened; tainted by the battle.. Finally went out.

White noise, a quiet place again... pitch black and empty. They saw this so many times, he lost count.

“Again, I win and you… the hero of this story.”

he pulls the drowsy target close, face to face with a grin he then speaks truthfully.

“...you’re dying- certainly not like every other fairy tale huh?”

Coughing erupts from the dreamer, then they glance up to Nightmare

“...you’re right.”

even in their weak state, they smile

“though next time, perhaps this story of ours will have a nicer end.”

“Next time? Ha- you wish.”

the triumphant sneered.

“ I don’t wish, It just happens.. Though I doubt you’d understand.”

Dream then spoke of a distant concept, one believed that only particular humans could possess.

“not this time, not the next… not the four hundredth either… ha, will things ever change?”

“You’re insane… crazy even, you should know that we only have one chance.”

their head disdains, vision starting to get drowned by yellow. A faint whisper left his teeth, silence filled the air.

The entity looms over, it was clear by now it ate his brother entirely in this life too.. It ‘freed’ them from their sadness.

Nightmare brought his hand to Dreams neck, holding it up and softly told them.

. . .“Finally kicking the bucket?”

“Maybe things will change... In your next run possibly?~”

The Nightmare commented, after hearing Dreams' continuing silence.

Their grin twisted and contorted, his tone became that of someone making fun of the other.

A thud could be heard in the place where it all began, a vision of Nightmare walking away from the scene… turned to pitch black. The ringing in Dreams head began to vanish, becoming hushed.

Their words haunted dream, next run?... ha. Sure, next run. Then we’ll see what’ll change… surely.

White noise, a quiet place again... pitch black and empty. They saw this so many times, he lost count.

“Again, I win and you… the hero of this story.”

he pulls the drowsy target close, face to face with a grin he then speaks truthfully.

“...you’re dying- certainly not like every other fairy tale huh?”

Coughing erupts from the dreamer, then they glance up to Nightmare

“...you’re right.”

even in their weak state, they smile

“though next time, perhaps this story of ours will have a nicer end.”

“Next time? Ha- you wish.”

the triumphant sneered.

“ I don’t wish, It just happens.. Though I doubt you’d understand.”

Dream then spoke of a distant concept, one believed that only particular humans could possess.

“not this time, not the next… not the four hundredth either… ha, will things ever change?”

“You’re insane… crazy even, you should know that we only have one chance.”

their head disdains, vision starting to get drowned by yellow. A faint whisper left his teeth, silence filled the air.

The entity looms over, it was clear by now it ate his brother entirely in this life too.. It ‘freed’ them from their sadness.

Nightmare brought his hand to Dreams neck, holding it up and softly told them.

. . .“Finally kicking the bucket?”

“Maybe things will change... In your next run possibly?~”

The Nightmare commented, after hearing Dreams' continuing silence.

Their grin twisted and contorted, his tone became that of someone making fun of the other.

A thud could be heard in the place where it all began, a vision of Nightmare walking away from the scene… turned to pitch black. The ringing in Dreams head began to vanish, becoming hushed.

Their words haunted dream, next run?... ha. Sure, next run. Then we’ll see what’ll change… surely.

White noise, a quiet place again... pitch black and empty. They saw this so many times, he lost count.

. . .

[ * You need to live on. ]

[ * Wake up. ]

. . .

But what’s the point? It’ll repeat once more.

Attempts to prevent their downfall failed, the least the world could do was let him rest once more in this quiet place.

. . .

[ * You don’t have that choice. ]

. . .

[ * I believe that you'll change fate. ]

. . .

The Silence was soon broken, birds began to chirp and the light was starting to invade their resting place, the ray landed on the skeletons- they were both laying on top of a hay pile, dozing away from prying eyes.

they mumbled a bit, struggling to sleep before waking up in a cold sweat, their arms wrapped around themselves before settling on their ribcage. Even after going through this several times the phantom pain still gets to them.

after investigating It was clear that they were staying in a farm shed, a place where he and his brother would stay when they’d get the chance to; better than sleeping in those stone-like beds. Besides the dreamer was their brother, well what they were before the incident… still asleep.

...There was a brief moment where their imagination had gotten rid of it woke up- thinking of that even for a moment sent chills up their spine, what was wrong with them?

Soon after they brought themselves up from the makeshift bed, leaving the other behind. Dream walked to the door, making sure to stay quiet.. Their hands pushed and the rays poured in, waking their brother in the process- suddenly they brought up their hands, trying to combat the sun by blocking it from their face

“mmmgh…”

his expression scrunched up.

“Shut the doooor-”

the response to this was a slight chuckle from Dream, after they spoke

“I’ll let you get back to your beauty sleep Night… though it’d be bad if Mr. Neriah found you hum?..”

The other jumped awake, stumbling up

“Gods no-”

he sighed, placing their hands on their head- saying in a defeated tone

“...I still remember how he made us clean the entire basement-”

a pause came out of their brother... they had caught what their sibling called them, confusingly they said

“Night?? Who- you know my name!-”

they were then cut off with

“-Because we didn’t show up for morning prayer! It’ll surely happen again if we don’t get there soon-”

they grinned a bit

“you’ll get your name out of my mouth once you beat me there yeah?”

Dream rushed to the door, swinging it open.

The door began to shut as one of the Skeletons left. They jumped up and scurried, putting on their worn out jacket

“Wait up!- wait up- I'm getting ready-”

they then followed, making sure the door wouldn’t slam on the way out.

“Jeez, aren’t you up and ready for this!”

they sighed as they finally began to catch up

“You normally avoid it..”

Dream quieted down for a second, thinking of what he'd say back then.

"...Just have a hunch, trust the gut! especially mine!"

The two strolled towards the Village from the farm shed, it was full of life, Humans and Monsters in harmony… working together to make things work, buildings in which they made.. Bakeries and shops galore; but in the very center of it was their ‘mother’. But even in this ‘paradise’ there were still things wrong, they should know this well. As they continued some waved, others looked at them in distaste… the two were used to this treatment, Dreams brother was just glad that group of kids weren’t here. Their brother was starting to notice the glares given to them… To ease tensions growing, Dream then asked.

“Think we should grab something after?”

their brother paused, thinking

“But we don’t have the money- you know this- interrupting the other”

tsk-

“who knows, a miracle could happen!”

The twin looked away slightly, surely if miracles happened it’d be better to hope on something else other than bread.. A real family, maybe?

“...Sure. let's say if one were to happen, who’d get it?”

Their brother jested, Dream beamed, smiled even

“Both of us, Brother.”

he suddenly pressed his finger on his brother's nose, causing them to kind of push Dream away a bit afterwards holding their precious nose

“you should know I wouldn’t leave you behind… or out of things, especially a meal.”

Dream mentioned, even after everything they didn’t exactly want to leave their brother out of the good things which fate provided. Their brother was grateful that he wouldn't be left behind if that were to happen.

“Now since that’s done-”

Dream clapped their hands together, now approaching the church.

“Let's say hi shall we?- haven’t seen everyone in a while.”

the other was confused about that last bit, raising a brow- considering they had just seen the others the day before.

“...We just saw them yesterday?..”

the Dream told them in kind

“Those hours felt like days.”

Now time for their 'grand plan'

They snuck into the establishment, making sure to step on the floor which didn’t creak. Being barefoot has its perks… navigating around the place was easy, they had been there many times.. Dream had even memorized the pattern in which they’d have to go however... their brother wasn’t as fortunate to remember. A sound emerged beneath their feet- fear arose. Silence came after. . . the anticipation of something happening was ruined with the pitter patter of footsteps- not as loud as an adult but it still frightened them.

. . they stared at where it was coming from, the door at the end of the hall-

They were expecting it to be Mr. Neriah was going to be there at any moment but thankfully they were saved, a monster… one with a burn across their face arrived and greeted the two.

“Never seen you two arrive this early- is it a special occasion???”

they eagerly waited for a response, the rabbit crossed their arms.

“or did you fear that Mr. Neriah would give you that task?...”

Dream spoke up.

“Well, maybe. Just had a hunch something would’ve happened if we were late again!”

Felix commented after the other was done, then glanced to Dreams brother.

"Epiales you need to sneak up your game if you want to avoid it."

Nightmares name before the incident. Dream had almost forgotten it, but with this reminder it brought a weight off his shoulders.

Dream knew that very well… they had repeated this many times, mainly cause one of them couldn't sneak that well.

“Anyways that's fair, you could’ve been cleaning the outhouse next- after all it’s on rotation this week.”

“Whew, looks like we dodged a bullet…”

Epiales seemed a bit stunned at this, relief seemed to wash over him- while Dream acted normal as if they knew that was the outcome.

Dream spoke, un-phased. Felix then began waving them along, urging them to follow.

“Come now- be thankful later things are about to start!”

...There was a brief moment where their imagination had gotten rid of it woke up- thinking of that even for a moment sent chills up their spine, what was wrong with them?

“mmmgh…”

his expression scrunched up.

“Shut the doooor-”

the response to this was a slight chuckle from Dream, after they spoke

“I’ll let you get back to your beauty sleep Night… though it’d be bad if Mr. Neriah found you hum?..”

The other jumped awake, stumbling up

“Gods no-”

he sighed, placing their hands on their head- saying in a defeated tone

“...I still remember how he made us clean the entire basement-”

a pause came out of their brother... they had caught what their sibling called them, confusingly they said

“Night?? Who- you know my name!-”

they were then cut off with

“-Because we didn’t show up for morning prayer! It’ll surely happen again if we don’t get there soon-”

they grinned a bit

“you’ll get your name out of my mouth once you beat me there yeah?”

Dream rushed to the door, swinging it open.

The door began to shut as one of the Skeletons left. They jumped up and scurried, putting on their worn out jacket

“Wait up!- wait up- I'm getting ready-”

they then followed, making sure the door wouldn’t slam on the way out.

“Jeez, aren’t you up and ready for this!”

they sighed as they finally began to catch up

“You normally avoid it..”

Dream quieted down for a second, thinking of what he'd say back then.

"...Just have a hunch, trust the gut! especially mine!"

“Think we should grab something after?”

their brother paused, thinking

“But we don’t have the money- you know this- interrupting the other”

tsk-

“who knows, a miracle could happen!”

The twin looked away slightly, surely if miracles happened it’d be better to hope on something else other than bread.. A real family, maybe?

“...Sure. let's say if one were to happen, who’d get it?”

Their brother jested, Dream beamed, smiled even

“Both of us, Brother.”

he suddenly pressed his finger on his brother's nose, causing them to kind of push Dream away a bit afterwards holding their precious nose

“you should know I wouldn’t leave you behind… or out of things, especially a meal.”

“Now since that’s done-”

Dream clapped their hands together, now approaching the church.

“Let's say hi shall we?- haven’t seen everyone in a while.”

the other was confused about that last bit, raising a brow- considering they had just seen the others the day before.

“...We just saw them yesterday?..”

the Dream told them in kind

“Those hours felt like days.”

Now time for their 'grand plan'

. . they stared at where it was coming from, the door at the end of the hall-

They were expecting it to be Mr. Neriah was going to be there at any moment but thankfully they were saved, a monster… one with a burn across their face arrived and greeted the two.

“Never seen you two arrive this early- is it a special occasion???”

they eagerly waited for a response, the rabbit crossed their arms.

“or did you fear that Mr. Neriah would give you that task?...”

Dream spoke up.

“Well, maybe. Just had a hunch something would’ve happened if we were late again!”

Felix commented after the other was done, then glanced to Dreams brother.

"Epiales you need to sneak up your game if you want to avoid it."

Nightmares name before the incident. Dream had almost forgotten it, but with this reminder it brought a weight off his shoulders.

Dream knew that very well… they had repeated this many times, mainly cause one of them couldn't sneak that well.

“Anyways that's fair, you could’ve been cleaning the outhouse next- after all it’s on rotation this week.”

“Whew, looks like we dodged a bullet…”

Epiales seemed a bit stunned at this, relief seemed to wash over him- while Dream acted normal as if they knew that was the outcome.

Dream spoke, un-phased. Felix then began waving them along, urging them to follow.

“Come now- be thankful later things are about to start!”

They continued down the church hall, entering the foyer where the rabbit resided- following on they were soon gathered with the rest of the orphans. Most were monsters, the others humans… seeing the two enter made a few of them run up to the older siblings. Dream greeted them with ease, while Epiales stood slightly back not wanting too much attention- even with that though there were some they would interact with commonly.. Like the small feline Monster in a dress, their chosen name being Caspera. They showed off their dolls' new dress to Epiales and then he complimented it.

“Gloria’s dress is very nice, did you have Mr. Neriah help you make it?”

the smaller one shook their head- then pointed to themselves exclaiming

“Made it mythelf!”

They were proud of their accomplishment. after they pat their chest a bit and spoke proudly -

“no help thith time!”

The skeleton gave a sound of awe and then he placed their hand on Caspera's head, patting it slightly.

“I can’t wait for you to open up a store, I’m in dire need of new clothes and I love your style.”

He then gestured to their own clothes, Epiales was wearing a worn down jacket- it was handed down to him through someone who had previously been here. He then pointed at Dream and made it clear

“You should too!- your belt is practically falling apart!”

Epiales and Caspera continued their conversation, Dream started his own- with Felix. He sighed, looking at his homemade belt and pulling on it lightly, he really should get something new… maybe around the upcoming festival?.. they then turned to Felix. would there be any point in replacing it knowing what will come tomorrow?

someone, presumably dream hollered back, Epiales snickered a bit.

Caspera’s expression beamed, it was always their dream to be a tailor, to make things that they’d be content with… that their big brothers and sisters would be happy with too!

“...So any luck finding that hidden cache?”

Felix huffed a bit, then expressed

“not here, though I might let you in on what I found afterwards.”

he placed their hands on their hips, and stared at their belt.

“Need the funds from it for a new one don’t ya?-”

Felix teased, Dreams face flushed up in response.

The doors opened once again, a shadow covered the group.. A creepy light swayed back and forth and the children suddenly scattered. But the younger ones recollected by the figure which had entered- a few ‘Mr. Neri’s’ were said… some even said a few 'Papa Neri's'. The priest who ran the church was a Anglerfish monster, and despite their looks they were quite the angel- acknowledging the younger ones with nods and small greetings as they made their way to the pulpit. The priest opened the book, glancing over it and soon after to his kids.

They raised a brow once they saw the twins amongst the crowd- his voice rasped

“Good morning my children…. It seems like everyone is here, that is great- amazing even, we can keep this up… yes?”

Dream and Nightmare laughed nervously knowing it was directed towards them in general. Father Neriah then told the group.

“If things continue, perhaps a reward is in order… who likes the idea of getting a grand feast at the festival. my children?”

small gasps could be heard, clearly these kids were hyped towards the idea- then they all looked to the twins, urging them to keep this up! Stopping the glares, Father Neriah began to say

“Anyways, Now my children… Are we ready to give thanks to our mother Nimeeta?”

Also known as Nim, Nimeeta’s name was shortened due to religious views on speaking her full name. It is only permitted by high ranking priests, ones who hold similar views to the all-mother. neriah brought his hands apart, forming a sort of pose, a prayer pose one which resembled the two emotions coming together in unison.. The right hand represented the positivity in the world, the other Negative emotions both were equal in power and could influence the world. The children followed, a few of the younger ones messed up but were corrected after a few minutes. Neriah found this entertaining, seeing such young souls do their best. Now to what needed to be said.

. . .The prayer began, and Mr. Neriah spoke.

“ Our Mother Nim blessed us with life, giving up her divine form and created the tree of life; it breathed existence into us and our paradise.”

he shifted his arms to flip the emotions, reversing their positions

“Nim, a being of pure emotion, split her essence in two and gave it up for her guardians, her sons and daughters in future generations.”

he took a moment before continuing on

“We are grateful for the guides given to us, the two who protect the tree and the emotions which it holds… which we hold dear.”

Father Neriah then brought up

“ The emotions that were captured by the tree, souls that were given a chance to return to their Mother after their time was up… ”

lastly

“ We hope to find the new guides during this years festival, so that we may see your vision for us Mother.”

he then gives a bow.

“ Thank you mother…”

his hands clasped together, gently forming a connection between their hands

“We all give thanks for you listening to us, may we part with ease.”

he then loosened their grip before parting their hands, representing how Nim had parted their soul.

After all was said and done, the children rose once Mr. Neriah was done with their morning prayer. Dream would normally skip this all together.. It left a sour taste in his mouth, after all it was ‘Nim’ who cursed them with this repeating dream of his. Dream sighed a bit, it was always hard to get through that-

“Why the long face?-”

Felix asked.

“I- uh it’s nothing, really.”

He that wasn’t the case- so they surprised the other by pinching their cheeks a bit-

“Wh- hey let go!"

Felix narrowed their eyes, countering with

“not until you let me in on whatever's going on-”

they paused then said

“don’t tell me those punks are messing with you and Epi again!?”

Dream shook their head, denying their accusations.

“No, just feeling a bit under the weather I guess?..”

Felix chirped back.

“well… if you’re like that maybe you shouldn’t see what’s in the cache eh?-”

Dream blinked, bringing himself to then say

“Man you really want to know don’t you??”

he huffed a bit. giving in.. but he knew that chance wouldn't come.

“..fine on the condition it happens after the festival.”

Felix thought about it, nodding in agreement- putting their hand after this too

“shake on it?"

Dream rolled their eyes, shaking their hand

"Fine I'll shake on it”

some sort of sorrow showed on his face as he made this ‘deal’... would there ever truly be a day after the festival where they could meet and let secrets be free? It seemed unlikely.

Epiales and Caspera finally brought themselves over to the rest of their little group.

“So what now? Should we go find out what that miracle you mentioned would bring us?”

they didn’t believe such miracles could happen, but were curious none the while. The smaller one commented

“ miracle? I want a miracle! Ariadne can I go pleathe? “

Ariadne, Dream's given name… how ironic how he and his brother would be given these names huh? Dream looked down to Caspera

“If you can keep up, then yes- yes you can Cas”

Caspera jumped a bit in joy, and hugged their doll tight.

“Gloria we're going to the village! we can get all the thweetths!”

Felix turned to Dream and Epiales, smiling.. It’s not everyday that Dream lets Caspera join in. He was always worried that they’d get themselves hurt especially with the bullies which roam around, he’s glad to see the change.

“So what’re we still doing hanging around here- lets go before Mr. Neriah thinks we’re trying to set up a bucket again, yeah?”

the Rabbit mentioned. Dream nodded- Epiales looked at Dream- so they were the reason that water got dumped all over their dad!?- and he got thrown under the bus for it... that's why they cleaned all of that!?- oh he’s so going to get back at Ariadne later. Seeing Epiales reaction, Felix not realizing what he said earlier...

“heh heh- oops?...”

Dream sweated a bit, just feeling their brother's death gaze on him and Felix- grabbing Felix's hand he kind of rushed themselves out of the building.

Dream and Felix went outside and continued on into the village, even if Felix was the best runner it caught him by surprise just seeing how much strength and stamina that Dream held.

“Ha- Why the rush? Your brother isn’t that scary-”

Dream then paused, turning to Felix- his expression was serious but changed to a more calm one.

“..I know, I just fear what he’ll do in the future because of that.”

Felix pushed Dream a bit, not so rough if anything playful

“like what, mark your body with a sharpie?”

A long pause came after.

“...maybe.”

a burst of laughter came from Felix

“Really? That’s what you’re worried about- you scared me for a second.. Thought something more serious would happen.. especially after that look ya gave.”

Dream punched their shoulder, his face full of yellow.

“It is serious!- I can’t show up to anything looking like that-”

footsteps could be heard coming approaching the two.

“Fighting already? It hasn’t even been an hour”

Epiales said as they strided towards them, holding Caspera on their back, the Feline monster was laying their head against Epiales' back comfortably with their doll Gloria in hand..

“What’s it even about huh?”

Dream focused on Epiales

“Nothing much, just the usual.”

. Felix was about to say something but was stopped when Dream put his hands up to their mouth.

“Everyday matters!”

Dream didn't exactly want to give their brother Felix's ideas. in retaliation… after a minute passed Felix licked their palms- the skeleton shivered, afterwards sliding back- looking at his hands now making a

“eeeww.”

sound.

“That’s what you get!”

Felix blepped. Dream shook their hands, then laid them on their own pants trying to wipe off whatever the Rabbit left.

“Oh I know what you’ll be getting Felix-”

he rolled his sleeves up, the bunny quickly ran off. Epiales snorted at this. Of course Dream followed, needing to get back at that ‘friend’ of his. A distant

"You cannot silence me!"

could be heard. of course this caused Epiales to burst out laughing at the chasing and overall ridiculousness of the situation, this woke Caspera though but he quickly made sure to quiet down and assure them that everything was alright and that they'd get their sweets soon.

[ Time passed, and it seemed as if that ‘miracle’ happened as Dream described. Someone had dropped their bag of fresh goods. Being the troublemakers they were Felix and Dream quickly took that opportunity to snatch it up… thankfully without notice. As the day began to turn to night, they all returned to the orphanage, sharing their goods. Of course Mr. Neriah had to question just where the various fruits and vegetables came from.. Hearing their explanation they had gotten a slight scolding; but were forgiven slightly due to their kindness amongst the younger souls. Everyone had a nice time, eating the dinner provided and then sharing stories.. Dream’s being the most adventurous, telling of different versions of himself saving the world and sometimes even other versions of himself! Soon after Mr. Neriah ushered the children to the beds, seeing how late it was. Dream and their brother of course snuck out at the peak of midnight, but made sure to give their goodbyes to the ones who were awake still… before they fully had left Epiales left some candy underneath Caspera's pillow, the sweets that they promised to them. The brothers ventured through the silent yet dimly lit village, making it back to the farm house where they had slept before, making themselves at home... at least temporarily. ]

“Ariadne?...”

It took a moment, Dream didn’t realize his brother was talking to him… after all he always went by ‘Dream’ and the other always went by ‘Nightmare’. He brought their hand up to their face- swinging it around to get their attention

“huh- yeah what?”

Epiales hesitated, continuing with

“I’m sorry-”

with a quick response

“For what?-”

the twin spoke up- it quickly turned into a few mutters-

“I’m sorry for not believing you earlier-”

Dream turned over on the hay, putting his hand up to his non-existent ears

“hum- didn’t quite catch that Epi-”

Their brother said aloud

“hmph- keep going like that and I might have to take it back!”

Of course, they were only joking around with each other… having fun.

“Alright alright- I accept your apology.”

Dream then laid down, trying to get into a more comfy position.

“So tomorrow… what do you think about it?”

Epiales spoke up

“The festival?”

a yes was given back

“Well… we might have a nicer life with the Guardians around, they’d whip the villagers into shape- get us all places to call home!”

Dream thought about it then responded

“You really think so?...”

and their brother talked back with a

“I know so… they’re supposed to keep the things in balance, there’s a lot of us who were dealt a bad hand… they’ll make things right.”

Dream looked to the ceiling, his hands resting on his chest. He closed his sockets for a second..

“You’re right, they’ll make things right…”

As Dream talked, Epiales seemed to drift to sleep… as Dream kept looking at the ceiling, their hand then reached to it, he stared at it…

“I’ll make sure of it.”

That sentence ended off with him clenching his fist. The day of the Festival was approaching, Dream didn’t exactly want that day to arrive but his eyes began to shut on their own. The next day was soon arriving, and so was the beginning of it all.

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iwillneverforgiveyousunghanbin · 8 months ago

Text

bully⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

saturday, reclamation— game day

⋆˙⟡ zbully1 smut series masterlist! hanbin, jiwoong, hao, matthew, and taerae included.

⋆˙⟡ read all possible endings here!

⋆˙⟡ wc: 7k (idk ur welcome)

⋆˙⟡ reader: femme afab (listed first, she/her are used) // gender neutral (alternate version listed second, no pronouns used at all to describe reader— scroll down)

⋆˙⟡ series summary: five bullies. six days. it's gonna be a hell of a week, babe. stay hydrated.

⋆˙⟡ saturday summary: nearly every student is gathered for your university's big soccer match against your rival school. you're hoping to steer clear of the boys you've had such strange (and steamy) encounters with this week. i think you can guess by now that fate is not on your side. or is it?

⋆˙⟡ warnings: explicit smut. 18+. minors do not interact. please read specific smut warnings under the cut! swearing. angst. bullying. when you're done, proceed to the endings :)

EXPLICIT SMUT 18+ WARNINGS: okay here we go. clitoral stimulation, g-spot stimulation, lots of penetrative p-in-v sex, oral (male receiving), mild cum play, mostly dom/soft dom boys but also subby!matthew for fun, this is a CONSENSUAL gang bang. and all raw penetration whoops.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　

“enjoy the game! fighting!”

the words leave your mouth for the five hundredth time this evening as you hand out yet another set of programs. you give each attendee your most authentic smile as you greet them at the north entrance.

“we’re at almost four hundred at the south entrance,” mina’s voice rings through the walkie-talkie on the table in front of you. it’s no surprise how well-attended tonight’s game is— everyone was invested in the long-held rivalry between your university and the opposing school. it had been a few years since your university’s soccer team had won this match-up. you wondered if they would tonight...

perhaps hanbin being made team captain this year would be the missing link to victory.

“hi! enjoy the game— fighting!” you exclaim once more. speaking of hanbin, he’d been right about one thing. tea with honey had repaired your voice perfectly. you’d even remembered to brew chamomile tea instead of black, so that good night’s sleep you’d been desperately needing was finally gifted to you.

you called mina that morning. you didn’t tell her what had happened per se, but you told her about each of the boys pursuing you... and you conveniently left jiwoong out of the equation for her own sake.

“i need to figure out how to get all of them in the same room,” you said, sending the finalized program for the big game to the campus activities director to print. you’d actually managed to finish it early this morning after emailing it to your sunbaenims to promptly approve. “but i don’t know how i’d manage to do that.”

“the campus activities interviews!” mina shouts excitedly. “sunbaenim was looking for a volunteer to do it for him tonight. if i make sure he recruits the right players, you’ll have them all to yourself in the activities lounge.”

all to yourself?

just how lucky could you be?

“and number 13 approaches the goal, weaving through the opposition,” the announcer calls as hanbin dribbles the ball across the field. two defensive players from the rival team close in on him. “and he seems to be caught in a defensive trap. number 25 comes up behind him on his right and number 12 is ahead of him on his left— will 13 be able to pass the ball successfully?”

you’re on the edge of your seat as hao waves at hanbin to signal he’s open. jiwoong’s making the same signal, but a bit more aggressively. personal issues with several members of the soccer team aside, you’re rooting for their win. it would mean a lot of positive attention and increased funding for your whole university to have the soccer team finally progress to the championship again.

you glance at the rest of the field. matthew’s in defense, the number 28 on his jersey shining in the flood lights as he blocks two rival offensive players all by himself. and, on the bench in his perfectly clean uniform sits taerae— number 14 kicking the grass with his cleats, not really paying attention to the riveting game going on in front of him.

“and 13 successfully passes to 25! 25 dodges a defensive player on his right, making a beeline for the goal,” the announcer continues, everyone in the stands beginning to stand up as the anticipation grows unbearable.

the scoreboard reads: 1-1.

hao is shooting distance from the goal, but he can’t seem to shake a couple defense players on his heels. there’s no way he’ll be able to make the goal like this. he looks at jiwoong, who is also preoccupied with defensive players of his own. it seems like all hope is lost until...

“number 13 sprints out ahead— a clear path between him and 25! 25 passes quickly to 13...”

hanbin’s cleat touches the ball, steadying himself for less than a second before he squares up and takes the shot.

the ball flies through the air. though it’s certainly going at least 70 miles per hour, it feels like you’re watching it in slow motion. mina grabs your hand, anxiety overflowing from every direction.

swish.

the ball flies over the goalie’s hands and into the netting behind him. the crowd erupts into cheers as the timeclock buzzer signals the end of the game.

hanbin stands in shock as the rest of his teammates rush toward him, engulfing him in their celebration. he’s lifted onto someone’s shoulders, grinning from ear to ear in pure joy and relief in a way you haven’t seen since you first met him. it’s a nice sight, if you’re being honest.

“i’m ready when you are,” mina says, squeezing your hand. “just fill me in after on how the revenge goes.”

“will do,” you say, making your way down the stairs of the stands. “just remember it’s what you asked for!”

the phrase sends a chill down your spine as you remember taerae’s thumb pressed to your tongue. you shake your head to snap out of it. there’s no time for hesitation.

you watch patiently as the celebration continues on the field. coach yang’s practically crying with pride. you don’t think you’ve ever seen him display an emotion other than boredom and annoyance before. camera now slung around your neck, you watch as the many attendees file out of the bleachers and out the exits.

the players shake hands cordially with the other team, one of the rival defense players starting to give matthew a hard time— undoubtedly for being pig-headed and brash during the game. you’re sure he deserves a little roughing up, but you need him in good condition.

after the excitement finally dies down, the campus activities president makes his way over to you with a smirking mina at his side. “ready to get some good portraits of the players?”

you nod happily. more than ready.

“thanks for volunteering to do this for me. i’ve gotta be at the senior leadership conference way too early tomorrow morning,” your sunbaenim says as he and mina head out onto the field. “you can head to the activities lounge now and set up. mina will escort them right over!”

mina grins at you over her shoulder before you exit the soccer field and head towards kang hall. the warm night air calms you as you walk through the doors and make your way down the empty hallway, stopping when you finally reach the activities lounge. several desks, a few office chairs and a small sofa litter the room.

this could work.

you grab the stack of interview consent forms out of the filing cabinet to your right before setting up the photo wall and camera at the back of the room. if, by chance, a few extra players are sent in, you’ll just have to get them out of the way first.

buzz buzz.

you check your phone to see a message from mina.

i’m sorry, coach yang made me take jiwoong, too. BLEGH. something about him being the left forward and “crucial to the game” or whatever. like, whatever helps him sleep at night, i guess. anyway, they’ll be there in a minute.

a minute. you can do this.

“two red flags!? it wasn’t even my fault. that guy was being a total dick,” you hear a muffled voice through the door. “so what i grabbed him by the collar? he should have a stronger windpipe if he can’t handle a little bit of good-natured choking!”

“it was the waterboy,” hao replies with a sigh. “you choked our waterboy.”

the door cracks open.

“he was in my way,” matthew says with a huff.

“he was trying to give you water,” taerae says quietly.

“you guys never fucking support me,” matthew grumbles, the door flying open as he takes a step inside the lounge. his lips part at the sight of you as the other boys push him through.

soon you’re met with five pairs of wide eyes, all staring back at you from where you sit on top of a desk in the middle of the room— clipboard resting on your knees.

you smile at them, clicking your pen eerily. “welcome! and congratulations on your fantastic win. please line up across from me.”

after a few moments of uneasy silence, hanbin is the first to make his way to the middle of the room. he stands a few feet away from you, the rest of the boys walking over and creating a neat, horizontal line.

“you didn’t hear the stuff about the waterboy, did you?” matthew asks, pressing his lips together awkwardly.

“i absolutely did,” you answer shortly. “i also watched it happen. and the purposeful cleat to the nuts of that other player.”

“that other player being me,” hanbin says with a frown.

“oooh, tough luck,” you console, shaking your head. “they still work though, right?”

hanbin’s brow raises in surprise. to be able to catch him off-guard is literally thrilling.

“so, i assume you all know why we’re gathered here today,” you say, clicking your pen again.

“i’m guessing it’s not for a post-game interview,” jiwoong says, looking around the room.

you bite your cheek in a smile. “unfortunately, we do still have to do those. but first, i thought we’d start with an interview about a different game we all played this week.”

taerae’s brow raises immediately, turning to look at hanbin. “i thought you said she didn’t know about that!”

your face falls. “know about what?”

“she doesn’t. it was a play on words. she uses them in her poetry all the time and it was cute the first five times, but it’s actually becoming a bit redundant now if i do say so myself,” hanbin says, glaring at taerae. “but now you’ve gone and opened your gigantic mou—.”

“it was a game,” hao interjects flatly. “this week was all just a game to see who could fuck you first.”

leave it to hao to always cut the bullshit. and always cut deep.

you knew there had to be a reason why these boys that had bullied you for years suddenly all wanted a taste of you. this explanation did make the most sense.

“well, it wasn’t just a game,” jiwoong replies with a shrug. “it was a really good game.”

“yeah, i’d play again,” matthew says with a grin. “especially considering nobody won.”

you scoff. “you literally lectured me for ten minutes about how you have no interest in fucking me, because i’m so tainted now.”

“yeah, i mean, definitely not how i prefer ‘em, but...” matthew smirks at taerae. “what was it you said yesterday? ‘a hole’s a hole’?”

taerae gulps as your eyes narrow at him in fury. “how—... how does he know you said that!?”

“hyung screen-recorded it,” matthew answers with an oblivious smile. “highest bidder got the file.”

“oh, so the game has mini-games now, too!?” you shout, staring daggers into hanbin. “do you have any moral decency left?”

“of course,” he answers, frowning as if he’s offended by the accusation. “if i didn’t, i would’ve just posted it. but i played it fair and took the 1,400 won.”

“YOU SOLD MY SEX TAPE FOR A DOLLAR!?”

“a dollar and five cents,” hanbin corrects with a smile.

“i forgot to bring my wallet to practice,” jiwoong says with a sorry shrug. “otherwise i would’ve bid at least two.”

“and i didn’t want it,” hao follows, absentmindedly examining his fingers. “i’m not depraved like the rest of them.”

you laugh incredulously. “oh, that’s rich, coming from the guy who put 86,000 won tree sap up my—”

“but seriously, man, that was cold,” matthew interrupts, patting taerae on the back in praise. “didn’t know you were cool like that.”

“oh, well i—,” taerae starts, almost sounding like he’s about to deny it. but instead he just shrugs, meekly replying, “me neither.”

“that’s ‘cause he’s not,” you seethe. “how about you tell all of your cool, new friends how you sucked your thumb until sophomore year of—.”

“why don’t you pick a winner?” hanbin asks, smiling at you gently. “isn’t that even better than what we’d planned? you got to experience it all.”

your lips purse in contemplation. “like... pick who got the farthest?”

he shakes his head. “pick who you want to fuck you the most.”

“i see,” you hum after a moment. you scan the line of boys in their soccer uniforms and university apparel. each looks a different version of eager as they await your answer. but unfortunately, they’d all already fallen straight into your trap the moment they’d stepped in the activities lounge.

you lean forward, pretending to size them all up.

“i’m sorry, but i don’t think i can do that,” you respond finally, hopping off of the desk. “you’ve all been nothing but awful to me this whole year. why would i ever pick one of you? do you think i fucking hate myself?”

the boys begin to give each other cautious glances.

“don’t answer that,” you snap, setting your clipboard and pen down on the desk to your left.

matthew scratches the back of his neck, clarifying, “so… you’re not gonna pick?”

“no, i’m not gonna pick,” you assert, walking towards the door as your plan propels into motion. there’s a few disappointed sighs from the boys who’d made a game out of your body. it was demeaning. it was sadistic.

it was… hot.

“why would i pick one of you,” you say as you lock the door, turning back around to face the gaggle of idiots hanging on your every word. “... when i can have all of you?”

“oh shit,” hao whispers, breaking the stunned silence filling the room. all of the other boys stare at you, jaws dropped.

“(y/n),” taerae pleadss quietly, eyes worried and sincere. “what are you saying? you don’t want that!”

“you don’t get to tell me what i want anymore,” you reply succinctly. you’re drinking it in, the feeling of being needed by five men at once. it fills you with a sense of power: the thing these same men tried to take away from you. it’s intoxicating. “and stop pretending like you still know me. you don’t. but...”

taerae’s left eyebrow raises ever-so-slightly as your thought hangs still-incomplete in the air.

“you could know me again,” you suggest softly, running the tip of your tongue across the back of your teeth. “and you could know me really well this time.”

your former best friend exhales, shaking his head weakly.

“you’re really gonna pass that up?” jiwoong asks, stepping forward indignantly as if he thinks taerae’s insane. “been waiting to get my hands back on you all week.”

“it sounds good to you then?” you reply, holding back a smile as jiwoong starts rolling up his jacket sleeves— a definitive nod in your direction. “is jiwoongie really the only taker?”

“fuck no,” matthew responds suddenly, any restraint he was previously demonstrating wiped away completely. “that’s what you want? i’m all in. let’s start now.”

hao hits his arm, hissing, “get it together.”

“why?” matt asks, folding his arms across his chest as he turns to face hao. “i wanna get my dick wet. so do you. so does everyone here. isn’t this the best solution?”

“yeah, isn’t it?” you ask, walking up to hao slowly. enough talking. it’s time for action. you close in on him, nearly chest-to-chest as you hold him with your gaze. you fight a smug grin as your hand gently tugs at the waistband of his joggers, “please... concertmaster?”

you’re thrown onto the desk behind you in seconds, hao’s long fingers wrapping around your jaw as his tongue slips down your throat. situating himself between your legs, your cores grow closer and closer together. he raises your arms, pulling your shirt over your head and dropping it on the floor in a careless ball.

“holy fucking—... this is really happening,” matthew mumbles as he takes a step closer, standing a few feet from your side so he can get a better view. though his brazenness isn’t so great for his teammates, you’d be lying if you said it didn’t turn you on in this context. you don’t want to give into him just yet, though. you have plans for him.

you glance over at jiwoong, worried for the state of his bottom lip as he chews it anxiously. you pull back from hao, wrapping your hand around his forearm to keep him close to you and batting your eyelashes invitingly at the older boy.

he points to himself, brow raising happily when you nod in affirmation. he walks over to you, obviously trying to stay as suave and nonchalant as he possibly can.

“you want hyung instead?” hao asks possessively, an undeniable pout on his lips at the thought of being discarded for someone better.

you squeeze his arm reassuringly, whispering in his ear, “he wants me.”

“so do i,” he replies, running his hand up your thigh. the unexpected display of jealousy from hao sends you reeling; another wave of arousal rushing to your heat as jiwoong closes the gap between you. “need something, hyung?”

“i was just watching you swap saliva, when i remembered how we didn’t kiss on monday,” jiwoong answers, eyes locked with yours. “i just think you might like the privilege of kissing me.”

“oh, you think that, do you?” you reply with a smirk. “well, if you’re that certain... i’m willing to hear you out.”

jiwoong smiles, placing a hand on your cheek as he presses his lips to yours sweetly. he pulls back, perhaps trying to gauge your reaction.

“well that was a let down,” matthew mumbles from beside you, rolling his eyes. you notice that taerae’s also come closer, standing a bit farther back than him but watching intently. and concernedly.

jiwoong laughs, kissing you again— this time, leaving you breathless with how passionately and skillfully his lips move against yours. it might be the best kiss you’ve ever had. you moan softly against him as hao’s hand now grazes over your clothed core.

your hand moves from hao’s arm to his fingers, holding him there against you. he huffs a laugh as jiwoong pulls back, smirking at hao.

“it’s all about teamwork,” jiwoong jokes, hand making its way to the button on your shorts. he undoes it quickly, advancing toward the zipper next. “that’ll be my quote for the interview.”

“i’ll send it to print,” you reply as jiwoong reattaches his lips to yours. your zipper comes undone and two sets of hands pull your shorts down, matthew walking over to lift you slightly as they shimmy them off of you. he smiles at you— a kind one.

“can i kiss you, too?” he asks, boyish looks on full display. you’d love to indulge him when he’s playing nice like this.

you shake your head. “not yet.”

matthew sighs dramatically, hand running through his hair as hao chuckles.

“be careful,” jiwoong warns with a smirk. “he can only take so much of that.”

“oh, shut up,” matthew huffs before resuming his content observation of you.

hao pulls your panties to the side easily— flimsy, lace material you picked out just for tonight. “were you expecting this to happen?”

jiwoong sighs at the sight. “fuck, baby. were you dreaming about this? hm?”

you whimper as jiwoong kisses up your neck and hao rubs lazy circles around your clit with his thumb.

“she loves that,” jiwoong whispers against your skin, glancing at hao next to him. “heart’s already racing.”

“is that right, baby? this feel good?” hao asks, suddenly applying more pressure. you throw your head back at the escalation, leaning back farther on your hands— subconsciously asking for even more friction. “dripping for us, honey girl.”

“please,” you beg with a mewl. “wanna feel you inside me.”

“which one?” jiwoong asks, glancing at hao.

“don’t care,” you answer, shaking your head.

“really? no preference?” hao asks with a smirk. “then i guess i’ll just leave and you can—.”

you grab hao by his shirt collar, causing him to stumble into you. he smiles: clearly happy he’s been chosen.

jiwoong steps aside as hao takes his place in between your legs, hands in the air as he accepts his temporary rejection like a man. unfortunately this makes you want him all the more and you reach out your hand for him to hold.

“demoted to hand-holder,” he jokes, shaking his head. luckily, he figures out something to occupy him quickly as he sticks two of your fingers in his mouth— sucking on them gently.

your attention turns back to hao, who grabs your hips and pulls you closer to the edge of the desk. with your free hand, you reach for the waistband of his joggers— tugging at it until he finally indulges you and pulls them down along with his boxers.

he stares at your pretty core, bottom lip catching in his teeth before lining himself up with your entrance. you take in the sight of his cock, somehow as elegant and refined as he is. hao’s hands latch around your hips again, fingers digging into the plush of your ass as he slowly pushes himself inside you.

the stretch is unbelievable— nothing like the tiny cake of rosin. you clench around him instinctively and hao hisses at the added pressure.

“relax, baby,” he whispers, touching his forehead to yours in an uncharacteristically sweet gesture. “everything’s okay. we’re just gonna make some more music, is all.”

you take a deep breath at his words, walls relaxing as you exhale. hao takes the opportunity to push himself further inside of you until he reaches the hilt. you sigh with satisfaction, more than happy to be this full.

hao pulls back, starting to slowly thrust in and out of you until he finds the perfect rhythm. “you feel fucking amazing.”

you smile as he moves his hands to your thighs, picking them up and deepening the angle as you wrap your left arm around his neck for support. a moan escapes you as the tip of him hits your cervix.

“that’s it, honey,” he grunts, thrusts becoming sharper as he continues to hit your back-most wall. “sound so, so pretty like that.”

the pressure inside of you is becoming overwhelming. you need something to occupy you further as your high steadily approaches. you sit up slightly, kicking jiwoong lightly with your foot until he lets go of your hand. once it’s free, your fingers move to palm him through his shorts until matthew chuckles behind him.

“seems like she wants more than a hand to hold,” he observes with a smirk.

jiwoong’s brow raises reflexively in excitement. he nods at you in permission as you reach into his uniform shorts and pull out his cock. he exhales breathily as you explore him with your hand before wrapping your fist around it and beginning to pump.

his head lolls back at the teasing pace as you return your attention to hao, whose cheeks have flushed with his orgasm quickly approaching.

you push his hair from his forehead with your free hand, trying to savor how needy he looks in this moment. “gonna cum for me, haohao?”

“fuck, yes,” he breathes as his rhythm begins to falter. probably the only time in his life that hao’s ever been off the beat. “your thighs. wanna paint your pretty thighs again.”

you don’t need any more convincing. “let’s see it then.”

a few more shallow thrusts until hao pulls out of you, hand wrapping around his cock— cumming with a sweet moan as he drips onto your inner thighs. his lips part as he stares at the mess he’s made before sinking to his knees and licking every last drop from your skin.

“damn,” matthew whispers. “that’s hardcore.”

“so much better than the rosin,” hao remarks, standing up and kissing you before pulling his joggers up and taking a step back.

a draft hits your impossibly wet cunt, glancing to your right for someone to fill the spot between your legs. matthew’s eyes widen eagerly, smiling at you far too politely in the hope of being picked. but you still weren’t done letting him simmer.

luckily, someone else’s cock is already in your hand.

jiwoong is gripping the desk beside you as you continue to lazily pump him, trying his best to maintain control as he stares at the ceiling. it’s actually kind of cute.

“jiwoong-ah,” you call softly, hand stopping its motion. he meets your gaze, clearing his throat when you smile at him. “want you to fuck me.”

“i thought you might say that,” jiwoong replies nonchalantly, his tone starkly contrasting the speed at which he moves to stand between your legs. “let’s change things up, shall we?”

he holds his hand out to you, helping you off the desk and then turning you around to face it. your stomach pressed up against the wooden desk, jiwoong runs his hands down your waist— cupping your ass with a firm squeeze when he reaches it.

“like it?” you ask, wiggling your ass slightly for him.

“i’ve seen better,” he says with a shrug, hands still kneading hungrily at your cheeks.

you look up over your shoulder, meeting his gaze. “well i’d love to hear any suggestions for improvement that you have when this is all over.”

jiwoong gulps, biting his lip as he spreads your legs with his hand. you step a little further apart, gasping when he suddenly shoves his cock inside of you.

“you’re sure you’ve done this before?” jiwoong asks with a groan as he laboredly manages to push himself all the way in. “kinda tight in here.”

“seriously? it so doesn’t work like that. and do you really think i’d lose my virginity to any of you assholes?” you retort, glancing over your shoulder to find taerae staring quietly back at you. “but it seems like someone here wants to lose there’s to me.”

everyone looks at taerae, who is standing with his arms folded across his chest— painfully hard even through his grey joggers. he shakes his head weakly, “th-that’s not true.”

you motion him closer, watching as he takes cautious, shaky steps towards you. like you’re not the person who knows the most about him in this world. like you’re a monster in a haunted house.

when he’s finally in reach, you grab his shirt sleeve and pull him to your side. he stares at you with wide eyes before you raise your brow expectantly and instruct: “kiss me.”

“what!?” he exclaims, like you’ve asked him to kill you instead. like he didn’t just kiss you yesterday. like he hadn’t just fucked your throat in the middle of class until you couldn’t speak. “i—...”

tired of his nonsense, you kiss him instead as jiwoong coils an arm up your stomach— groping at your chest as he thrusts into you: fast, hungry, and desperate. taerae pulls back after a moment, blinking at you before diving in for more.

the head of jiwoong’s cock pounds against the spongy, soft spot in your front wall and you can’t help but moan into taerae’s mouth as your climax approaches. he breaks your kiss, lips parted as you stare directly at him— whimpering for release as your hand balls his shirt sleeve into a fist.

jiwoong pulls you toward him so that your back is flush against his chest. you look over your shoulder, his lips immediately attaching to yours as you whine against them.

“i really like it,” jiwoong rambles deliriously between kisses, grabbing your ass so hard you think the flesh might bruise. “sorry for lying, baby. it’s perfect. s’perfect. gonna cum all over it.”

“oh my god,” you cry as your orgasm hits you. jiwoong sighs, most likely relieved he doesn’t have to keep holding on himself. “woongie.”

“that’s it, baby,” he coaxes, sucking and biting at your neck as his thrusts become erratic. “such a good girl, cumming all over my cock.”

when your walls finally stop spasming around him, jiwoong pulls out of you— cumming with a weak sigh all over the top of your ass. just as he promised.

“good?” he asks, giving your ass one last smack before backing away.

you nod happily, the hot liquid starting to drip down onto your cheeks. “good.”

someone begins to blot at jiwoong’s cum with a piece of fabric and you turn over your shoulder to see who it is.

“you’re so fucking hot right now,” matthew compliments, cheeks noticeably redder than before as he wipes up the mess with his jersey. maybe you’re being too harsh in testing his patience. “you have no idea. or maybe you do, i dunno.”

you shift your body to face him, pressing your lips to his. he responds almost instantly, attempting to deepen the kiss when you pull away. “i’m gonna deal with this one first, actually,” you say, hand gripping taerae’s shirt sleeve a little tighter.

at your denial, matthew swallows hard— the metaphorical gloves starting to come off. “i think i’ve been waiting pretty patiently.”

“you have, honey,” you coo patronizingly, running your free hand through his hair. “do you think you can be patient for a little while longer?”

he inhales sharply at the soft language, pupils dilating as he unconsciously gives away his enjoyment of this tone. you wink, causing matthew to step back with an angry huff out of your reach. “whatever,” he reluctantly agrees before sulking over to a chair in the corner.

“he’s gonna explode,” hao mutters under his breath to jiwoong.

you turn to your right, eyes meeting taerae’s. he’s chewing his lip nervously and you’re not really sure what the right approach is. you take his hand and lead him over to the couch— lying down on your back and spreading your legs, gesturing for him to lie down in between them. after a long moment, he does.

you stare at his joggers until he gets the hint to pull them down, hard cock hitting his lower abdomen as he releases it. he stares at it, inches from your pussy before looking back up at you in disbelief.

“don’t get too worked up,” you tease, reaching your hand through your legs and wrapping it around his cock. you align it with your entrance as taerae’s chest falls closer to yours. “don’t you wanna last longer than you did yesterday?”

the tips of his ears burn at what seems to be a new mortally embarrassing core memory for him. “shut up.”

“taerae-ya,” you call, eyes meeting his again. you hope he can see how genuine you are as you ask, “do you really wanna do this?”

once more, his eyes are a whirlpool of conflict. you think he might even say no... until he suddenly shoves himself inside of you with one quick thrust.

“oh my fucking god,” he moans, harmonizing with your cry at the abrupt fullness. “oh my god.”

you wrap your legs around him to ensure he doesn’t try to bite off more than he can chew in this moment. “if you cum right now, i swear to whatever god you’re name-dropping, tae...”

“i won’t, i won’t,” he assures raspily, but the way his face is screwed up in pleasure leaves you unconvinced.

“wouldn’t have to be giving that warning to me,” matthew mumbles saltily from the corner. “just saying.”

“damn, i never thought i’d watch someone i wasn’t fucking lose their virginity,” jiwoong comments with fascination. “was i this pathetic?”

“probably,” hao replies matter-of-factly. “you were pretty pathetic just now, too.”

“not. a. virgin,” taerae asserts, punctuating each word with a rough thrust. you moan at the sensation, an audible queue for him to continue at that intensity. his motion is surprisingly fluid. you were positive he’d been lying about having lost his virginity, but now you weren’t so sure.

the brutal pace at which he’s bucking into you, however, is leaving you a bit dumb. it’s like he’s fucking the thoughts out of you. maybe it’s intentional. maybe it’s because you can’t stop whining for more.

“fuck, you’ve got her begging,” jiwoong says, tongue already licking his lips again as he watches your tits bounce with each thrust. “not bad, kid.”

matthew sighs exasperatedly in the corner. you know what he’s thinking: he could do better.

taerae shakes his head softly, biting his lip as he tries his best to keep going. “i—... fuck, you feel so good. don’t wanna stop, but...”

“you need to cum?” you finish for him.

he nods frantically. “but i can’t yet, i... have to last longer, like you want me to...”

your hand rushes to the back of his neck, toying with the hairs at the nape. he mewls, clearly seconds from busting inside of you. “i was just kidding with you, tae. you did so good. you can cum now.”

his forehead falls to your chest with relief. “thank fuck, oh my god. where? where do you want me to—?”

“tits,” you interject your answer, grabbing his hands in yours and putting them on your breasts. “want you to cum on my tits.”

taerae pulls out so fast, you’re afraid he’ll get whiplash— pumping his cock over your pretty chest and cumming with a throaty moan. “fuck. holy fuck.”

you look around the room as taerae sits up, having been so preoccupied with all these boys that you hadn’t realized that one of them had been virtually absent this whole time. you’re puzzled as you spot hanbin sitting pensively on a desk toward the front of the room— quietly watching you get fucked by all his friends.

you stand up from the couch, hao grabbing your arm for stability until you can walk on your shaky legs— gently brushing past the rest of the boys and walking over to the star of the soccer team.

he smiles at you, one brow piquing in interest as his eyes trail down to the cum dripping down your chest. “to what do i owe the honor of your undivided attention?”

something clicks for you now as you stand in front of him. “it was your idea, wasn’t it? the competition?”

hanbin doesn’t answer, he just tilts his head.

“and if it was your idea, doesn’t it mean that you wanted to win?” you ask, hand finding his bare thigh— inching dangerously closer towards his clothed bulge. “you wanted to fuck me? wanted a more literal way to get under my skin?”

“i just told you the little play on word thing was getting a bit old, didn’t—.”

he stops abruptly as you begin to palm him gently through the fabric of his shorts. he exhales breathily at the feeling, but doesn’t give you any more than that.

instead, he replies softly, “think you got me all figured out then?”

“mm,” you affirm, applying a bit more pressure. he places his hand over yours to keep you there, but he doesn’t make another sound. “think you’re fucked in the head.”

“what’s taking so long?” matthew asks impatiently, far too close to losing his temper.

“this is my game now. you already played yours,” you say, slipping your hand out from underneath hanbin’s. again, he doesn’t protest, but the way his eyes are shining lets you know he doesn’t want to lose your attention just yet. you take the bottom of his jersey and wipe taerae’s cum off your skin to assert your dominance. “they all want to play by the rules. but you don’t. so you’ll have to wait here, i guess. watch all your friends ruin me, when it was your idea in the first place.”

you head back over to the other boys, walking over to matthew and immediately straddling him in his chair. “didn’t i tell you to be patient?”

“wanna fuck you so bad,” matthew growls, hands digging hungrily at your waist. you grind down on him in a warning. he moans softly. “i mean, under the circumstances, i think i did a pretty good job.”

“yeah? you think?” you ask, your condescending tone and another harsh grind against him causing him to whimper. “so i should give you what you want, then?”

there’s a flash of hope in his eyes. you start to lean in to kiss him when you’re suddenly thrown from matthew’s lap and manhandled to the carpeted floor. hanbin hovers between your legs, hands kneading into your thighs.

“hey,” he says with a grin.

you grin back. “hey.”

“sorry about that,” he apologizes, pulling his shorts down and gently tapping at your entrance with the head of his cock. “but you were right. and i didn’t wanna be last.”

“and where the fuck is my apology, huh!?” matthew yells, standing up in a fury. “we were clearly in the middle of something.”

“well, now we’re in the middle of something,” hanbin replies, pushing himself inside of you with a shrug. you whimper at the stretch, fist balling up the neckline of hanbin’s jersey. “so deal with it.”

“you always do this!” matthew shouts and you’re nearly positive he’s about to punch his hyung, when hao and jiwoong stand up and force him into a chair between them. jiwoong rubs his back comfortingly, attempting to calm him down for the time being.

“look at you,” hanbin says with a smirk— long, slow strokes into you that effectively drive you insane. “he’d throw hands just to get a moment with you. s’gotta make you feel pretty good, right?”

you nod as his hips continue to roll into yours, languid and teasing. you moan when his thumb finds your clit, circling it gently as he begins to increase the pace of his thrusts.

“yeah? well it makes me feel fucking awful,” he confesses, hips snapping into you harshly. you cry out, second orgasm building rapidly as you try to pay attention to hanbin’s words. “thought i was throwing you to the wolves, not a handful of potential suitors.”

you’re not quite sure what he’s trying to say, brain focused on only one thing right now.

“gonna cum for me, baby?” he asks with a smirk, sweat beginning to bead at his forehead. you nod frantically in response, fingers digging into his upperarm as he brings you to the edge. “go on, then— let everyone know who made you feel this good.”

he’s expecting you to scream his name. instead, when your climax hits, you pull hanbin down to you by his collar— pressing your lips to his and moaning against them as your walls flutter around his cock. your action surprises him, eyes wide until he finally responds. deepening the kiss, his thrusts suddenly grow passionate and tender as he works you through your high.

hanbin moves his hand from your clit, bringing it up to your face and running his thumb across your cheek. coming up for air, he whispers, “you’re so fucking gorgeous.”

“you’ve called me ugly to my face almost every thursday for a year,” you reply, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck to bring him even closer still.

“it’s your fault, you... i—,” hanbin stutters, his thrusts grow haphazard as you feel his cock start to twitch inside you. “fuck, i’m gonna—.”

“how about you cum on my face then?” you suggest, tugging at hanbin’s hair— nails scratching at his scalp gently. “at least you won’t have to look at it if you cover it up.”

“that’s not—... m’not gonna...,” he protests before pulling out of you and climbing up to straddle your chest. hanbin pumps his cock in front of your face. “open your mouth.”

you prop yourself up on your elbows, opening your mouth for him and sticking out your tongue. with a throaty moan, he cums on your tongue— pumping out every last salty drop. you swallow it down, opening wide and showing hanbin that you’d done it.

“fuck,” hanbin marvels before kissing you warmly. “i can’t believe you.”

“happy with the vulture you made?” you ask with a smirk.

he shakes his head. “not a vulture. a bird of fucking paradise.”

you’re about to tell him that a bird of paradise is a flower, not an actual species of bird, but hanbin stands up too quickly and returns to his seat on top of the corner desk— rubbing his forehead with his hands as if he’s upset by something. unfortunately, you don’t have any more time to dwell on him. you have one last boy to deal with.

you sit up on your knees, eyes locking with matthew before he abruptly turns away in the ultimate display of pettiness. seems like you were more than right about how he’d be in a situation like this. you crawl over to him seductively, placing your hands on his knees as you kneel in front of him.

“look at me, baby,” you plead in a soft voice, running your hands up and down his thighs. “wanna play with you.”

he sighs sadly. “do you? it kinda seems like you wanna play with everyone else more.”

“this kid,” jiwoong remarks with a chuckle. “weren’t you the one that said this was a great idea?”

“i didn’t think i’d have to wait so long to get a turn,” matthew sulks, eyes finally meeting yours again. you must look particularly enticing all fucked up like this, as a growl deep in his throat sounds at the sight of you. “waited so patiently.”

“you almost took a swing at hanbinnie, honey,” you remind him, reaching for the waistband of his shorts and pulling it down until matthew’s angry, thick cock is in your view. “how would you have explained his black eye to everyone at the championship game? hm?”

matthew whimpers as you wrap both hands around his length, popping the tip into your mouth and swirling your tongue around it. “they w-wouldn’t be surprised.”

taerae snorts in response before returning to his silent observation from the couch.

you take him further into your mouth, sucking lazily as matthew breathes harder. when he’s nice and lubricated, you pull off of him and stand up— straddling him again like you had before hanbin interrupted you. this time, you lower yourself onto his impossibly hard cock with a satisfied sigh.

you start to fuck yourself on him, slow until you can find the right rhythm. there’s uncharacteristic silence coming from the boy beneath you.

“do you really want me the least?” matthew asks as your eyes meet, the adorable pout on his lips driving you crazy.

you shake your head softly. “of course not, baby. but you’ve gotta be good. boys who choke waterboys have to be punished.”

matthew tilts his head innocently. “i didn’t mean to do that.”

you grab a fistful of hair at the back of his neck, yanking tightly. “don’t fucking lie to me.”

“holy shit,” jiwoong whispers.

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i’m sorry,” matthew whines quickly until your grip loosens. “i... i did sort of mean to do that.”

“i know, baby,” you reply, the pace of your bouncing growing quicker. “that’s why you had to go last this time.”

“this time?” hao and matthew ask at the same time.

you shrug. “so if you behave, you can go first next time.”

“next time?” jiwoong and taerae repeat.

matthew nods eagerly. “i can do that. i promise!”

“yeah?” you reply, promptly stopping your motion as you sink down onto him fully. “you promise to be a good boy?”

at the same time you ask the question, you squeeze his cock with your walls.

“yes, mommy,” matthew cries, head lolling backward to expose his jugular to you. a stunned hush falls over the room. taerae’s jaw drops.

you glance behind you, three pairs of saucer-shaped eyes staring back at you. an impressed hao nods, holding out his hand for you to shake in respect. you do.

“wait, wait—... no, i—...” the boy underneath you pleads. “i didn’t—... that’s not what—.”

you squeeze your walls around him again, a strangled moan falling from his lips as he resumes his submissive state. “d’you want me to keep milking your cock or not, baby?”

“please,” he answers quickly, taking your hand and placing it gently at the base of his neck. “feels so good. want you to milk me dry.”

you oblige, thrilled to get exactly what you wanted out of him. you squeeze him tighter and tighter inside of you, grinding your hips softly against him— massaging softly up his neck with your hand until he’s begging for release.

“gonna cum,” matthew whines, hands moving down your waist before finally situating on your ass. “please, let me cum. (y/n). can’t take it anymore! gonna cum inside you if you don’t—.”

you hop off of him quickly, watching as his cock falls to his lower abdomen— cum covering his own skin as he sighs defeatedly through the ruined pleasure. his head falls to his hands, contemplating his life and where he went wrong.

“fuck, that was hot,” jiwoong says. you glance over, both him and hao now hard again in their joggers.

you smile, entirely satisfied with how this turned out. you try to take a step back toward the desk, but your legs aren’t as steady as you thought. taerae stands up from the couch, running to keep you on your feet. jiwoong and hao both get up after him, helping you up onto the desk with concerned expressions.

“are you okay?” taerae asks, bending down to the floor and grabbing your shirt. he hands it to you and you put it on with what little strength you have left.

jiwoong walks over to his bag, grabbing a water bottle from the side pocket and bringing it back to you. he pops open the top and places it in your hand. “you need to drink, okay? we don’t need you passing out and us all getting questioned at a hospital.”

you nod, taking a sip from the water bottle. hao grabs a tissue from the box on the corner desk, walking over to you and dabbing your forehead gently.

this is bliss, you think. but... how does it all end?

CHOOSE YOUR ENDING ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

click above or here to choose from one of seven endings <3 jiwoong, hao, matthew, hanbin, taerae, group, and revenge

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gender neutral version below

EXPLICIT SMUT 18+ WARNINGS: heavy petting (reader and male receiving), penetrative sex (reader receiving), mild cum play, oral (male receiving), mostly dom/soft!dom boys but also subby!matthew, this is a CONSENSUAL gang bang, also all raw penetration whoops. language surrounding reader's genitals and penetration is vague to keep things as inclusive as possible. a couple mentions of reader's body being gorgeous, pretty, other aesthetic compliments but no gendered language.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　

“enjoy the game! fighting!”

perhaps hanbin being made team captain this year would be the missing link to victory.

all to yourself?

just how lucky could you be?

“and number 13 approaches the goal, weaving through the opposition,” the announcer calls as hanbin dribbles the ball across the field. two defensive players from the rival team close in on him. “and he seems to be caught in a defensive trap. number 25 comes up behind him on his right and number 12 is on his left— will 13 be able to pass the ball successfully?”

“and 13 successfully passes to 25! 25 dodges a defensive player on his right, making a beeline for the goal,” the announcer continues, everyone in the stands beginning to rise to their feet as the anticipation grows unbearable.

the scoreboard reads: 1-1.

“number 13 sprints out ahead— a clear path between him and 25! 25 passes quickly to 13...”

hanbin’s cleat touches the ball, steadying himself for less than a second before he squares up and takes the shot.

swish.

the ball flies over the goalie’s hands and into the netting behind him. the crowd erupts into cheers as the timeclock buzzer signals the end of the game.

“i’m ready when you are,” mina says, squeezing your hand. “just fill me in after on how the revenge goes.”

“will do,” you say, making your way down the stairs of the stands. “just remember it’s what you asked for!”

the phrase sends a chill down your spine as you remember taerae’s thumb pressed to your tongue. you shake your head to snap out of it. there’s no time for hesitation.

after the excitement finally dies down, the campus activities president makes his way over to you with a smirking mina at his side. “ready to get some good portraits of the players?”

you nod happily. more than ready.

this could work.

buzz buzz.

you check your phone to see a message from mina.

a minute. you can do this.

“it was the waterboy,” hao replies with a sigh. “you choked our waterboy.”

the door cracks open.

“he was in my way,” matthew says with a huff.

“he was trying to give you water,” taerae says quietly.

“you guys never fucking support me,” matthew grumbles, the door flying open as he takes a step inside the lounge. his lips part at the sight of you as the other boys push him through.

soon you’re met with five pairs of wide eyes, all staring back at you from where you sit on top of a desk in the middle of the room— clipboard resting on your knees.

you smile at them, clicking your pen eerily. “welcome! and congratulations on your fantastic win. please line up across from me.”

“you didn’t hear the stuff about the waterboy, did you?” matthew asks, pressing his lips together awkwardly.

“i absolutely did,” you answer shortly. “i also watched it happen. and the purposeful cleat to the nuts of that other player.”

“that other player being me,” hanbin says with a frown.

“oooh, tough luck,” you console, shaking your head. “they still work though, right?”

hanbin’s brow raises in surprise. to be able to catch him off-guard is literally thrilling.

“so, i assume you all know why we’re gathered here today,” you say, clicking your pen again.

“i’m guessing it’s not for a post-game interview,” jiwoong says, looking around the room.

you bite your cheek in a smile. “unfortunately, we do still have to do those. but first, i thought we’d start with an interview about a different game we all played this week.”

taerae’s brow raises immediately, turning to look at hanbin. “i thought you said (y/n) didn’t know about that!”

your face falls. “know about what?”

“i believe it was a play on words. (y/n)’s poetry, recently, has been littered with them. it was cute the first five times, but it’s actually becoming a bit redundant now if i do say so myself,” hanbin says, glaring at taerae. “but now you’ve gone and opened your gigantic mou—.”