#and was passed down to him by his father by his father before him

[shellshocklove]

moanin' & groanin' | logan howlett

pairing/AU: lumberjack!logan howlett/wolverine x inexperienced!female!reader

summery: working for your father's timber business isn't what you saw yourself doing, but when the wolverine comes looking for work it's suddenly not so bad – especially when he can teach you a thing or two.

warnings: this is an 18+ fic so mdni! age gap (in the way that his mutant abilities prolongs his life), swearing, use of pet names, smut, car sex, praise, a little dacryphilia, logan's got a dirty mouth, soft dom!logan, a little size kink (basically logan has a big dick), handjob, fingering, a little manhandling, unprotected sex (don't do it!!), no use of y/n

a/n: um hi! this is my first ever logan fic. i really hope i got him right! not beta read, and barely edited so any mistakes are my own. happy reading! <3

main masterlist / ao3

The pages crinkled under your fingertips as you turned another page. Over the top of your book you could see your father's men milling about, getting the timber ready for another outgoing truck. Day in and day out they worked like flannel-covered ants. 

He wasn't here, your father, leaving you to hold down the fort, or office to be precise, as he  ran errands. "I'll be back before lunch," he'd told you, a hand passing through the sleeve of his tan Carhartt.

The office felt bigger when he wasn't here, like his neuroticism took up twice as much space as he did himself. You looked around the room. It was small, more like a hut than anything else, raised up on cinderblocks. A tiny kitchen lined the front wall, the refrigerator had given out once this month already and something smelled like it had died in there, the white florescent light under the wall cabinets gave you a headache, and the tap drip drip dripped. The table and the mismatched chairs, your father had found at a fleamarked years ago, before you were born most likely, and they wore the wear and tear of years of use. 

Every available surface was covered in papers, and the wooden shelves on the wall dipped in the middle from the weight of the binders. When you were little you'd been afraid the wood would break in two, but they were still standing (hanging?) – maybe they'd stay like that for the rest of eternity for all you knew. Your father's office had only one desk, which made your job as occasional office manager and full-time problem solver, problematic. 

Your father would sit in his chair on one side, while you'd steal one of the mismatched chairs and occupy the other end. If you'd had your way, you wouldn't be working here. The timber business interested you just as much as your father was interested in the disco they played on the radio. "If it ain't the king of rock I don't want to hear it," he usually said and switched the channel. 

But the town was small, and no one was hiring. The summer after you'd finished high school you'd dreamt of moving to the city, but the money had been tight and your father needed you. At least the work, if your father didn't meddle, was relatively easy: answer the phone, type out the invoices and salaries, keep an eye on logistics, and make sure whatever breaks gets fixed. 

The radio hummed at a low volume, one of the singles from Tapestry, as you turned another page of your book. Leaning back in your father's office chair, you glanced at the clock over the door. He should be back by now. Just as the thought crossed your mind, the door swung open.

"Did you need something?" you asked, your book dipping down in your lap. 

Logan raised an eyebrow at you as he walked into the office on heavy steps, that damn cigar hanging out the side of his mouth. "Nice to see you too, princess," he poked jokingly, tugging at his gloves, one finger at a time, and tucking them into his leather belt. 

He sported the same outfit he usually wore; bootcut jeans, a white t-shirt under his flannel and a thicker wool-lined jacket. He must've been sweating in here with that on.

Autumn had claimed the trees and ground months ago, but this morning the frost had covered the ground and bit at the apples of your cheeks. Your breath had come out in swirling plumes when you'd locked yourself in this morning; the first glints of the sun peeking through the windows as it rose over the mountains. The first thing you'd done was crank the heater, and now as you approached midday, you'd shed your sweater long ago while the windows had fogged with condensation. 

The smallest of frowns tugged at your brows, as a heat prickled up your neck to your cheeks. Logan made you a little nervous– not in a bad way, but in a way where your thoughts would wander in his presence, conjuring up scenarios of him and yourself in… comprising positions. Okay, maybe it was in a bad way. But who could blame you when he walked around like that?

He'd arrived only a few months ago, at the tail end of the summer, looking for work. He was strong, stronger than any of the other men working for your father, and although the work was hard, it seemed like he never tired. You didn't know much about him and he kept mostly to himself, hidden away in a cabin up in the mountain, but sometimes you'd see him down at the local bar, nursing a glass of whiskey in one hand and a lit cigar in the other. More than once you'd seen him chatting up Kayla Silverfox, and more than once you'd wished it was you in her place.

"Oof," Logan groaned as he opened the fridge, grabbing his packed lunch and closing it as fast as he could. You appreciated him for that; whatever had died in there should stay in there.

"Yeah," you said, "I'm not cleaning that again, not even for a million bucks."

"Can't blame ya." 

He looked to the table for a second where the guys usually ate their lunches, before he decided to take your usual chair at your father's desk. As he sat down, you pushed the ash tray to his side of the desk, earning you a short smile in thanks as he rested his cigar. It wasn't unusual for him to talk to you on his breaks. 

So, why did you heart beat so fast in your chest?

Because it was the first time you'd been alone.

"So, where's your old man?" he asked and bit into the sandwich he'd packed in an old newspaper.

"Running errands– he should be back soon…" you trailed off.

Logan hummed non-committedly. "So, you're in here sittin' pretty readin' your book while we're out in the cold slavin' away– maybe I should become the boss' daughter."

"Well, it's not easy," you sighed, feigning confidence, "and you gotta be pretty first of all," you front teeth dug into your bottom lip as you tried to hide your nervousness.

"That's true," he grinned, "I ain't got nothin' on you, princess."

Logan held your gaze with intent, and it was like something in the air shifted. It happened sometimes with Logan, like he had this power beaming from him that sucked you in. Erratic wings fluttered in your stomach, and you had to drop your gaze.

"So, how's the book?" he asked, taking another bite of his sandwich.

"Eh," you shrugged, dog-earing the page your were on, before throwing the beat-up paperback on the table. "Too many plot twists– first they're on earth, then there's this virus spreading– so they have to move all of humanity to the moon, but then there's this species that lives under the surface of the moon who they start a war with, but one of the main characters are in love with a moonie– that's what they call them– so, now they're in love and trying to stop the war and…" you shrugged again.

Logan chewed slowly as he nodded his head. "Sounds complicated," he decided, making you let out a small laugh.

"I guess so."

A grin washed over Logan's face at your small laugh, and you felt his gaze roll over you, over your exposed skin. When he looked at you like that, like a predator drooling for a meal, you felt a small damp spot stick to your panties. You watched as his nostrils widened, his jaw clenching shut as a pulsing vein protruded from his neck.

"So, science fiction," he started, clearing his throat, "Didn't know you liked that," he continued between the last bites of his sandwich

"Some kid at the library recommended it," you shrugged, "so I thought I'd try it out. And it's not like it's that far from the truth– we've got mutants."

Logan crumbled the newspaper hard and quick, the sharp sound making you jump. "Yeah," he said, and stood to his feet, "That's true."

He grabbed his burnt out cigar, and threw the ball of newspaper in the trash. You started to wonder if you'd said something wrong, but then he said, "Your father's back," and not even a second later you could see your dad's old truck pull up outside the window.

How did he even know that? 

"Logan– wait," the words just fell out of your mouth before you could even think them through. He hovered by the door, raising a questioning eyebrow at you. 

You could be brave– Just say it! 

"Come by later would you? Before you leave for the day– I have something for you."

A gush of cold air blew in with the arrival of your father. He almost crashed right into Logan on his way out, nearly knocking him down the wooden steps. You thought you could glimpse a small nod from Logan, but he was out the door so fast you couldn't be sure. 

The rest of the day went by slowly as a growing anxiety gnawed at your neck. With your dad back you slipped out to borrow the car, driving into town to pick up some lunch at the local diner. It was routine at this point, something you did without thinking, but today your thoughts couldn't stay still. You were pulling up outside the office when you realized you'd driven the whole way with the radio off.

What was even your plan? 

You wished you were better at this. You could pretend, sure, put on a brave face to hide the nerves from surfacing, but how do you get a man like that to go for a girl like you?

You felt non the wiser when the sun had dipped below the mountains and he finally knocked on the office door. Your dad had left thirty-minutes earlier, stranding you at work with no way to get home. 

If this didn't go well, you didn't look forward to walking home.

"What 's it you wanted, princess," Logan asked, leaning against the frame of the door with one knee popped. Your eyes couldn't help but run down the length of him – his broad shoulders, the bulge hidden below his big belt buckle, and the veins of his exposed arms as he slung his jacket over his shoulder.

"Oh, um," you tried to shake your thoughts, and you rummaged the desk for the envelope. "Here," you said as you found it, stretching your hand out for him to take it.

He pushed off the door frame with a raised eyebrow, the cold air from the open door taking with it the warmth of the office. "What's this?" he questioned, taking the envelope from your hand. 

"It's your check– for this month's work," you explained.

His raised eyebrow pulled into a frown, "This is a week early," he questioned, "and I usually get these sent in the mail."

"Oh, I-I just thought I'd give it to you personally this time," you lied, fitting a shrug at the end for good measure, trying to sell how completely normal and nonchalant you were.

Logan raised a skeptic eyebrow at you, and you suddenly felt really really stupid. In your chest your heart could compete with a hummingbird's.

"Really?" he said with a smile before he dropped his chin, "Can I appreciate a little extra something in here, or…?" he trailed off, waving the envelope.

Letting out a shaky inaudible breath, you tried in your flirtiest voice, "Maybe if you give me a ride home…"

...................

The lights from the town below looked like stars scattered over the night sky, the yellow light of the roads connected them like on a string. You knew that Logan knew where you lived; the town was small, and even with the short time he'd spent here, it wasn't hard to get familiar. He'd stopped at the lookout point, about half-way up the mountain road. It was nice in the daytime, with a nice view of the town, the mountain and rivers, but at night it attracted a different kind of crowd: lovers. It was cheesy, and cliché, but clichés were clichés for a reason. 

The Led Zeppelin tape whirled, and the music stopped. 

Suddenly you felt nervous, fingers picking at a loose tread on your sweater. Logan leaned forward to flip the cassette, and his truck filled with a sound of organ, like you were back in church. When he leaned back he slung his arm over your seat. You watched how he spread his legs, getting comfortable, as his eyes found your face.

Under the wool, your heart picked up its beat.

In a brave move you shifted closer, the leather seat moaning under you, as a pleased smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. His big palm snaked around your shoulder, curling you closer to him until his lips caught your own. You only hesitated for a second before your hand found his neck, where your fingers tugged lightly at the hair at the nape of his neck. 

A low growl huffed against your lips, and he deepened the kiss, pressing himself roughly against you as he licked into your mouth. You couldn't help the small whimper escaping you. His touch was rough, almost impatient, but tender all at the same time, and you felt yourself fall apart.

The air stuck to your skin, clammy and sticky with arousal and now you started to get impatient. With a loud smack you broke apart, your lips raw and spent from use as you caught your breath. A rough hand cupped your cheek, the pad of his thumb skated gently over your skin as he tilted your head towards him.

"Such a pretty little thing," he mused. His eyes had gone dark, pupils huge and filled with lust; yours must've looked about the same as they rolled down his body. He shifted closer to you, pushing you closer to the door, and you got a better view of the bulge hidden behind his jeans.

Your heartbeat pounded in your ears, clogging up the sounds around you like you were underwater, pushing at your thoughts at the back of your mind. Logan moved with such ease, each touch natural and easy, like he'd done them a thousand times. Not like you, with only your short-lived high school boyfriend under your belt. 

"Hey," he shook your head gently, "Where you goin', bub?"

"I'm sorry," you whispered, a heat coating the apples of your cheeks. 

He shook his head, his face surprisingly tender for someone so rough, "Tell me, baby."

"I'm just…" you trailed of, trying to find your words, "I'm a little nervous– I haven't done this much," you said, avoiding his gaze.

"That's sweet, bub." The pad of his thumb rubbed the pet name into your skin as he leaned forward to catch your lips in a soft kiss, "But I wouldn't worry that pretty little head of yours 'bout it."

His breath was hot against your own, and an ache started to spread between your legs. The hand on your cheek travelled downwards to tug at your jacket, and you parted only for a second to rid yourself of it, but before you could lock your lips with his again he grabbed at your hands.

"I'll teach ya," he told you and guided your hands to his broad form. 

He let you touch him as he shucked off his jacket, your fingers dancing over the soft flannel. He was solid beneath your fingers, hard muscles from hard work. A patch of dark hair curled at his chest, peeking out beneath his white shirt, and you found yourself wondering where it lead.

Curling his hand around your wrist, he guided your hand lower; down over his chest where you could feel the solid form of him. His bronze belt buckle burned you like ice, but the heat of him as he pressed your hand to the hard bulge beneath the buckle burned even brighter.

"You feel that?" He looked you straight in the eyes. He pressed your hand down harder and you could feel the shape of him against your hand, hard and thick, and big. You barely managed a nod through the wave of heat coating your cheeks. 

"That's because of you, princess." His voice was low, almost like a growl, as he started to guide your hand to rub over the thick length.

"Me?" you questioned, breathless. 

"Yes, you," he chuckled, a heavy hand petting at your head. "D'you want to take it out? Stroke it f'me?"

"Please," you begged, looking at him with moony eyes through your lashes.

"So polite f'me," he mused, his hands tugging at his belt before he popped the button on his jeans. Slipping off your shoes, you crawled up into the seat, sitting back on your knees as you watched him pull at his jeans. Peeking out from under the denim, you could see a dark patch of hair.

Logan was in no rush, revealing only an inch at a time of the base of his cock, making a show of it as the tension rose. A wave of tickling arousal washed over you, and it made you brave, reaching a trembling hand forward, you helped him tug at the fabric.

At last his cock sprung free.

You felt your eyes widen at the sight, as you involuntarily squeezed your thighs together. Even with your limited experience, you knew he was bigger than most. The thick length of his cock bobbed from the weight, hanging heavy between his legs. At the tip of his fat head, a drop of precum pearled, almost invisible in the dark truck. 

"Come here, bub." He widened his legs as he reached out a strong arm for you, curling you into his shoulder. 

"Put your hand on it," he ordered, "like this," he grabbed at your wrist and guided you hand towards his mouth. You let him move you around, eyes blown out and wide as you couldn't take your eyes off his impressive cock. 

A wet blob of spit pulled you from your thoughts, it drew the slightest frown over your face until he guided your palm, now coated in his spit, to his cock.

Under your palm his skin was silky soft, but hard and firm at the same time. You found yourself mesmerized at the sight of your hand around him as you familiarized yourself with the heaviness of him in your hand. 

"There ya go–" he cut himself off with a groan as you formed a fist around the head of him. Your fingers struggled to reach around him, but it didn't seem like Logan minded much when you moved downwards smearing his spit over his shaft in an experimental tug. 

"That's it, good girl, just like that."

A warmth bloomed in your chest at the praise, wrapping itself around your heart. You wanted him to say it again– to be good for him. So, you reached forward with your other hand, wrapping it around the base as the other formed a fist around the head. Another pearl of precum beaded at the tip, and you took the opportunity to skate your thumb over it, massaging it into his spit.

A growl seemed to get caught in Logan's throat, and still riding off your high that the praise had sown in you, you started to pump his cock in slow strokes. A slick sound escaped under your fists with each stroke, and you watched how his head fell back in pleasure.

"Am-am I doing it right?" you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

At the sound of your voice, Logan sat up straighter, a heavy hand falling over your back to pull you closer. "You're a natural, princess."  

You couldn't contain the smile from coating your lips as he brought you in for another searing kiss. It was hot, and suffocating, and all-consuming, all at the same time. It clouded your mind, and you forgot what your hands were supposed to be doing. 

Logan's hand travelled down your body, his big palm grabbing at your ass. "Take of your pants," he ordered against your lips, "Panties too," underlining his order with a couple of light slaps to the flesh.

Shuffling out of his hold, you fingered at the button of your pants, pulling at them and your panties as quickly as you could. Goosebumps prickled over your exposed skin, the air suddenly frosty without Logan's touch – but that didn't last long.

The calloused pads of his fingers trailed up your thighs, pressing down into the flesh as he pulled you closer to him. "Come sit in my lap, princess."

He didn't wait for you to move, instead he manhandled you how he wanted. Spreading his legs wide apart he fit you between his legs, your back pressed against his hot chest with his hard and leaking cock caged against your ass. 

"I'm gonna touch you now, baby, okay?" his deep voice whispered in your ear.

"Okay," you peeped, heart pounding in your ears at this new proximity. 

He spread your legs, putting your wet and neglected cunt on display, hooking them over his knees. When his palms danced over your inner thighs, you felt yourself sink deeper into his chest, deeper into the safe scent of pine and man. 

"Need to get you ready f'me, bub– stretch this tight cunt out for my big cock," he cooed.

You ached for him, a sticky wet feeling between your legs as you wished so badly for him to finally touch you. His touch was light, but teasing, drawing circles along the thin flesh, circling closer and closer to where you needed his touch the most, before he pulled away. 

"Please," you whined, grabbing at his arm.

His breath felt hot against your neck, and you could feel the grin he pressed against your skin. He let you guide him upwards to hover his large palm over your mound, but he wouldn't let you have it. Instead, he pushed at your sweater. His hand spread across the skin beneath your belly button as prickled goosebumps followed the rough pads as they ran across your skin.

"Y'gonna feel me right here, bub?" he teased, "So deep inside your tummy?"

A whine caught in your throat and you felt like an exposed nerve. Arousal pulsated throughout your body, threatening to pull you apart unless he did something soon. Your neglected cunt dripped with an ache only he could sooth. 

"Yes, please, Logan," you whined, tears threatening to spill.

His thick beard scraped against your cheek, and you almost trembled from anticipation as he slid his hands downwards. He raked his fingers through the curls of your mound, and a gasp fell from your lips when he finally pushed at your clit.

A wide smile reached across your face when he started to circle his fingers, tight with the perfect amount of pressure. Your hips bucked to meet his touch, your cunt eager and dripping for more of him. His other arm clasped around your middle, keeping your still and steady in his lap as he had his way with you.

A bold finger dipped lower, running through your folds and teasing at you entrance. A slick sound filled the car as he played with your cunt, circling his fingers around your hole, dipping a teasing finger inside you just to the first knuckle, before withdrawing it just as quickly. 

"Such a messy pussy," Logan murmured in your ear, the deep bass of his voice vibrating into your skin. "Listen."

The sound as he played with your pussy was obscene, lewd, and so dirty you felt a heat crawl up your chest. A breathy gasp escaped you when he finally split you on his finger, and a satisfied smile coated your lips as he started to move it inside in a steady rhythm, prodding every so often at that spongy spot inside, the spot your own finger couldn't reach.

"F-feels s-so good," you managed to stutter out. 

The heel of his palm pressed against your clit with every thrust, teasing at your insides and conjuring moan after breathy moan from your lips. He guided you closer and closer to the edge, and you wanted so badly to fall. When he pulled out to slide another finger inside you, you felt a tear roll down your cheek with satisfaction.

"I can feel that pussy clenching me– you close, bub?" he poked, never stopping his fingers.

Your head rolled back, resting heavy on his shoulder as you nodded franticly, mouth parted slightly, humming out small breathy whines. You were so close, the tension in your stomach twisting and aching for release.

But then he pulled his fingers, dragging them up over your mound leaving a wet trail in your curls. You couldn't help the disappointed sigh as more tears pressed their way down your cheeks.

"Shh," he hushed you, "you're okay, bub." 

Under you, you felt him move, his strong muscles flexing as he shifted you on his lap. When you felt the blunt head of his cock slide between your folds, an eagerness came upon you. You grinded against him, making a small chuckle rumble from his chest. Logan slapped his heavy cock against your folds, coating his big cock in your slick arousal. 

The first stretch of him knocked the breath right out of you, the fat tip of him splitting you in half as he helped you guide yourself down on him. You had to remember to breathe, your hand fumbling for something to hold on to. 

"Fuck," you whimpered, eyes wide, "I-it's so big– it's t-too big."

His hand wrapped around your middle held you in place, keeping you still on his cock as you adjusted to the first inches of him inside you. 

"It's not too big, princess, you're doing so well f'me," he praised, "just a little more, bub– you can do it."

With a wet whimper you lowered yourself, taking a couple more inches of him, as Logan pressed more fluttering praise into your skin. He let you take your time, easing yourself down on him at your own pace. When your thighs were finally flushed with his, he was so deep inside you, you jolted, trying to move back up, but Logan's hands held you down. You felt him in your tummy, like he'd said, his cock reaching so deep you were shaking.

"Sit still, get used to it," he told you, as you tried to catch your breath, "You're being so good f'me."

And somehow the burning stretch of him soothed away into a pleasurable pressure, one you couldn't help but chase. With an experimental rock of your hips, you felt the fat head of him prod at your spot, making you mewl. And when you started to swivel your hips, Logan groaned in satisfaction, meeting your movement with small thrusts.

Slowly, he picked up his rhythm, strong hands shifted to dig into your hips, holding you in place for him to move you as he wished. In your ear, you heard him growl, deep and animalistic as he fucked up into you.

It didn't take long until your breath came out fast between moans as the pressure built, and built, and built. 

"Logan," you moaned, tethering right on the edge.

Another growl escaped his chest, as his strong arms hooked under your legs. He pressed them tightly to your body as he picked up his pace, bucking wildly into your eager cunt. You could feel him throb inside of you, and you couldn't help but clench at the thought of feeling him spill inside you, claiming you.

"Don't stop, please, don't stop," you begged, tears streaming down your face like two winding rivers, "I-I'm gonna come."

A hand slid between your legs to rub at your puffy clit, coaxing you closer and closer with winding circles. 

"Come on my cock, baby, come all over that big cock."

It was hot, and blinding. Euphoric shocks pulsed through your body, as you fluttered and gushed around his cock. Logan's grip on your legs tightened as you shook violently with your orgasm – a million stars exploded behind your eyes.

"Oh, that's it, bub, such a good girl," he praised between heavy wet pants against your ear.    

Fucking you through your ecstasy, Logan chased his own high at a relentless pace, and all you could do was take it, reduced to a ragdoll in his hands. In your ear he muttered nonsense interlaced with praise, telling you how good you felt, and how perfect you were for him.

With a deep groan he pulled out quickly, tugging at himself until he spilled his thick spend on the truck floor. With bleary eyes you watched how it pumped in quick spurts, dripping down his hand and soiled the knuckles in his own sticky cum. 

Behind you, Logan breathed hard, nudging his nose against the column of your neck to press soft kisses to the hot skin. 

A pair of bright headlights beamed down the road, pulling you from the moment with its blinding light. Logan helped you shift off his lap, reaching to hand you your discarded clothes before he tucked himself back into his jeans. 

The cassette whirled in the car radio, and you couldn't remember when the music had stopped. Logan shifted back behind the wheel and an eerie silence grew in the distance between you.

"How 'bout I take you somewhere to eat?" he posed.

You smiled, "I could eat."

...................

hopefully this was okay? a comment telling me your favorite part is always welcome, and my ask box is always open to chat <3 and thank you for reading!!

© shellshocklove, 2024 i do not give any permission to repost, translate, feed to AI or redistribute any of my writing, with or without credit!

[sxcretricciardo]

The Monster They Never Saw Coming

The paddock was unusually quiet as you sat in the corner of the Red Bull garage, helmet resting on your lap. You could hear the distant hum of engines and the chatter of engineers, but none of it really penetrated the storm brewing in your mind. It was race weekend, and you were steeling yourself for battle, but not just against the other drivers—against the weight of the past, something you carried with you to every race.

Max’s voice broke through your thoughts, soft and careful. “You alright?”

You looked up at him, his eyes filled with concern. Max Verstappen, the man the world called a monster—the driver with ice in his veins and fire in his heart. He understood. Maybe more than anyone else ever could.

“I’m fine,” you lied, offering a small smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

He frowned but didn’t press. He knew when to leave it, just like you did when he clammed up, the memories of his own childhood surfacing at the worst times. The two of you shared more than just a competitive spirit—you shared scars, the kind that weren’t visible but ached nonetheless.

---

You hadn’t always been the tough, unshakeable driver they knew today. Once, you’d been a little girl with dreams far too big for the small karting world you came from. Like Max, your childhood had been brutal, molded by a father who had seen potential in you and then used it as an excuse to break you down, piece by piece.

You could still remember the worst of it—the day that defined everything. It was a small karting championship, one of the many you raced in. You had been pushing yourself, heart pounding, hands aching on the steering wheel, but something was off. Maybe it was the nerves, or maybe it was the pressure of your father’s expectations. Either way, you finished second, and it wasn’t good enough. Not for him.

After the race, he didn’t say a word. He didn’t need to. His silence was louder than any insult he could’ve hurled. You followed him to the car, your heart pounding in your chest, waiting for the inevitable lecture, but instead, he got in and drove off. Without you.

You had stood there for what felt like an eternity, disbelief and shame washing over you. The karting track was in the middle of nowhere, and your home? Almost 20 miles away. But you knew what this was—another one of his punishments. Another way to make you feel like you weren’t good enough.

So, you walked.

The sun had dipped low in the sky as you trudged along the side of the road, the weight of your helmet in your hands, tears you refused to let fall burning behind your eyes. You were 14. Just a kid. But there was no room for softness in your father’s world. He had one goal: to make you the best, even if it meant breaking you in the process.

By the time you made it home, feet blistered and body exhausted, the rage had taken root. Not just at him, but at yourself. You’d vowed then and there that you would never lose again. Not for him, but for you. You would be the best—untouchable, unbeatable.

They called Max the monster that Jos Verstappen created. But they hadn’t seen the monster your father had made you into.

---

As the years passed, you climbed the ranks of motorsport, from karting to single-seaters and eventually into Formula 1. You didn’t just survive; you thrived. Every race, every lap was another chance to prove that you were more than what he’d tried to make you believe. You weren’t just good—you were unstoppable. And yet, no matter how many races you won, how many records you shattered, the shadow of your past lingered.

It was during those lonely years in F2 when you first met Max. He was a rising star in F1, already turning heads with his aggressive driving style and his unrelenting determination. You’d crossed paths at a karting event, a rare break in your racing schedules. You hadn’t expected much from the interaction, but there was something about him—something familiar in the way he carried himself.

It wasn’t long before you learned why.

Max’s father had been just as brutal, just as relentless. Jos had pushed him to the edge, forced him to harden himself into the fearless competitor he was now. But while the world saw only the sharp edges, you saw the cracks, the places where the pressure had left scars.

It was strange, how quickly you two had connected. Two broken souls who understood each other in ways no one else could. You weren’t the type to let people in easily—neither was he—but somehow, it just worked. You could sit in silence, the weight of your unspoken pasts hanging between you, or you could talk for hours, venting about the fathers who had shaped you into the fighters you were.

“I’m never going to treat my kids the way he treated me,” Max had once said, the two of you lying in bed after a long day. His voice had been quiet, but there was a steel beneath the words. “I won’t do it.”

You had looked over at him, understanding completely. “Me neither. I don’t care how good he thought it made me. It’s not worth it.”

Max had turned to you then, his hand reaching out to brush a stray hair from your face. “We’re not them. We’ll never be them.”

---

Now, sitting in the garage, you could feel the familiar churn of emotions bubbling to the surface. Race days always did this to you—stirred up memories you’d rather forget. But that was the price you paid for being here. You couldn’t escape the past, no matter how fast you drove.

Max crouched in front of you, his eyes searching yours. “Hey,” he said softly, pulling you from your thoughts. “You’ve got this. You always do.”

You let out a breath, nodding. “I know.”

But he wasn’t convinced. “What’s going on?”

For a moment, you hesitated, but then the words tumbled out. “I was just thinking about… him. My dad.”

Max’s jaw tightened. He knew the stories, knew the way your father had treated you. It made him angry, the same way it made you angry when he talked about Jos.

“He’s not here,” Max said firmly. “He doesn’t get to control you anymore.”

You nodded, knowing he was right but still feeling the weight of it all pressing down on you. Max stood, holding out his hand to you. “Come on. Let’s go for a walk.”

The two of you wandered through the paddock, the tension easing with each step. You didn’t need to say much—just being with him was enough to remind you that you weren’t alone in this. You had each other, and no matter what happened on the track, you knew that you were more than the monsters your fathers had tried to create.

As you approached the starting grid, Max squeezed your hand. “We’ll show them,” he said, a small smile playing on his lips. “We’ll show them that we’re better than they ever were.”

You nodded, the fire in your chest reigniting. “Yeah,” you agreed. “We will.”

And with that, you strapped on your helmet, climbed into your car, and prepared to unleash the beast they’d never seen coming.

[lazycats-stuff]

Hello can you please do more baby or toddler reader x batfamily if you can😭i just love them

Oh sure can. I kind of love them too. I'll do baby reader, since we didn't have those in a while. Also, look at this adorable little penguin. Baby animals are cute.

Summary: First time that (Y/N) came to the manor.

Warnings: mentions of death during birth, but it's not (Y/N), a lot of fluff, angst(?), I don't know at this point.

Bruce was silently sitting at the dining table, looking at the phone, not sure how to feel at this moment. He had a one night stand 9 months ago and the woman he was with was carrying his child. Bruce asked her what she wanted to do, did she want to get rid of the baby or keep it?

Bruce was secretly hoping she would keep the baby, but he couldn't tell her what to do with her body. That would be wrong in his opinion. Thankfully, she choose to keep the baby. Thank God. Bruce was happy and he told his other sons about the incoming baby. None of them were surprised, but worried. A baby in their lifestyle?

They were all worried to say the least. Even Damian. Not about the fact that a biological child of Bruce was coming into the family, but worried about the fact that it's a baby. All of them were hoping for a girl, because who wouldn't want a little sister at their hands? Once they found out it was a boy, they were a tad disappointed, but didn't mind another boy.

The more the merrier was the joke.

The pregnancy was going smoothly... Until the time of labor came. He thought that it would go smoothly. He really did. However, it didn't. (Y/N)'s mom didn't make it, but (Y/N) did. That was the call he just got.

She passed away during birth. The nurse who called assured Bruce that the baby was okay. At the moment, Bruce was trying to collect himself before he broke the news to everyone. He looked up from the phone as his sons came in, all confused as to what has happened.

" What happened Bruce? " Dick asked as he sat down and Bruce rubbed his eyes.

" Anna, the one night stand gave birth today. She didn't make it, " Bruce announced and everyone froze.

Damian was left worried for the baby, Tim's mouth dropped and Jason was left speechless. Dick had to sit down.

" Are you serious? " Tim asked, eyes widening at the news. This was huge.

" Just got the call Tim. She passed away. Right now, I need to get some baby stuff. And that means furniture, clothes, diapers, damn formula too... " Bruce rubbed his eyes again, feeling overwhelmed by everything.

" We'll deal with that, " Damian declared and the other 3 nodded in agreement. " We'll just need your credit card. You need to make sure that the baby is taken care of. And we do need to think of a name. "

" I thought we agreed on (Y/N). And so did Anna, no? " Dick asked, rubbing his chin.

" Yes, we'll name the boy (Y/N). Also, don't go overboard. " Bruce warned and Dick chuckled.

" You shouldn't worry about money, since you are rich, " Dick mumbled as his face turned solemn.

" I know Dick. I trust you all. First and foremost, we need a list of what we need for the room. Create a list of furniture and then just make sure to get enough clothes for now. We'll think about that later. But formula is something that he needs, so make sure to get about a week's worth... Is that too much? " Bruce wondered out loud, sighing quietly.

" We'll get a week's worth, don't worry father. We'll go furniture shopping today, so that it'll be ready when (Y/N) is discharged from the hospital, " Damian said, looking Bruce in the eyes.

" (Y/N) will be okay here. " Tim put his right elbow on the table, then rested his chin in his hand. " We may be chaotic, but we'll take good care of him. He won't lack anything, " Tim said with a firm voice and everyone nodded.

" Oh hell yeah. We'll all step up for this baby. And we'll take care of him. We'll make a list of duties and try to do our best. " Jason crossed his arms as he leaned back into his chair.

" I agree Jason. "

They all looked at each other, clearly determined to make sure that (Y/N) is taken care of.

Bruce went to the hospital right after the conversation, nervous beyond belief to meet his son. He entered the hospital, where he asked the nurse for directions. The nurse gently led him where (Y/N) was and Bruce saw him through the glass, with other newborns. Bruce tried to not cry, tried to not tear up.

But he couldn't stop the tears that came up. He wiped them quickly and the nurse gently patted his shoulder.

" (Y/N) is healthy, mister Wayne. A good weight too. But sleeps most of the time, which is normal. The only thing you need to do right now is sign the paperwork for that adorable baby, " She said, gently smiling at (Y/N), then turned to Bruce.

" And I know that you are a single father and that a baby is different than teens, but you'll get the hang of it. And I know you must feel overwhelmed and not prepared, but no one is prepared for a baby. There's no manual to get ready, " She told him and Bruce chuckled.

" I know. But I've been reading books on how to take care of newborns. What to do and what not to do. But I feel like it's not enough, " Bruce explained and she nodded.

" Do not sell yourself short. You got this. And I think the little guy would love to live with you. Do you want to hold him? "

Bruce nodded. " But I need to sit down first. "

" Of course. " She gently led him to a room where he could sit down and then she left to go get (Y/N). Bruce has never felt so nervous and anxious in his life. He tried to calm down, but his nerves got the better of him. He took a deep breath to calm his nerves down.

He got ready as the nurse entered with (Y/N), who was swaddled and sleeping.

" Alright, are we ready dad? " The nurse asked and Bruce nodded. He knew he was ready.

The nurse gently put (Y/N) into Bruce's arms and Bruce smiled at his baby boy. (Y/N) opened his eyes and Bruce smiled even more.

" Hello (Y/N). It's dad, " Bruce said and (Y/N) seemed to scan him before letting out soft sounds.

The nurse adjusted his hold, warning him about the neck and head. Bruce listened intently, adjusting his hold accordingly.

" You have 4 brothers and you wrapped them around your little finger. They'll do anything for you, " Bruce said gently to his son, who seemingly smacked his little lips together. Bruce chuckled at that.

" I'll make sure you are never lack love. Never, " Bruce muttered, smiling at his baby boy. " Oh they'll love you. "

Bruce turned his head towards the nurse. " When can I take him home? "

The nurse thought for a moment. " Normally, we would discharge him with the mother, but since she passed and he's fine, you could take him today. "

So Bruce did just that. After he talked to all the appropriate people, signed a shit ton of documents in Bruce's words. Afterwards, he made his way to find a baby car seat. He quickly put it together in the parking lot. Being Batman is a perk of it's own. He put it together and went to the hospital to pick his son up and go home with him.

He could only hope that the boys have put together a crib. However, he didn't doubt that they bought it, they are all quick and efficient, but... He's worried. He can only hope that they didn't kill one another while putting together the cribs. He'll be happy if he he finds two of his sons unconscious. And without any broken bones.

Which Bruce knew was unlikely, but one can hope. He gently strapped (Y/N) in and drove home, making sure to be vigilant on the road and to make sure that both him and (Y/N) made it home safely. After a while, he parked the car in the yard and got out, taking (Y/N) with him, making sure he is swaddled and calm.

He opened the door quietly and he could hear voices upstairs, probably where they were putting together the furniture. He slowly walked upstairs, being quiet on purpose to see what was going on.

And was that a sight to see.

Damian and Tim were putting together a changing table and Dick and Jason have put some toys into the crib, making it comfortable for their brother.

Bruce cleared his throat and everyone turned their heads to look at him, before their eyes fell down on a little bundle of joy in (Y/N)'s arms. They all froze and melted a tiny bit.

" Aw, he's so cute, " Dick came closer, watching (Y/N) who was awake at the moment, looking around at the new faces and voices.

Jason peaked over Tim's shoulder. " My, my. He is cute. " Jason said quietly as he gently reached out to touch (Y/N)'s cheek.

" Before any of you touch him, " Bruce said, making Jason pause mid air, " I want you all to wash your hands. So go to the bathroom and wash your hands.

[purplesuitcowboy]

cw: dubious consent, fauxcest, double penetration, free use

"I don't have any cash on me," her step-father, Thomas, told the frazzled young man at the cash register.

"But, I have this,” he said. He jostled the young women who stood beside him for emphasis. Quinn offered up weak protest from behind the ball gang in her mouth. She hated when he did shit like this. Ever since he’d figured out that she’s dabbled in selling nudes online, how he was able to tell if was her when she hadn’t even shown her face was beyond her, he’d been strong arming her into all sorts of shit under the threat of disclosing her little business endeavor to her mother.

Her mother had always been a bit of a prude and if she found out, Quinn would be kicked out of the house for sure and her sizable inheritance would be reduced to 0. She was sure that she could find a place to stay if she got kicked out but losing out on her inheritance was simply not an option. She gone along with his demands which had started as head in the parking lot of his job and had quickly ballooned out of proportion from there.

As it turned out, Thomas was a bit of a kinky bastard but he couldn’t live out his fantasies with her mother so he used her instead. Quinn was almost positive that Thomas preferred it that way. Even before their little agreement, he’d always told her that she had a body built of sex and that she’d make a man very happy one day. This had been very, very weird then but she had ignored it. He made her mother so happy that Quinn had just written off his comments as personality quirks. They hadn’t been. They were the truest expressions of his wishes and desires.

In a sick way, she was perfect for him. She was just as much as a freak as she was, got just as turned on by their slinking around as he did. She just had the good sense to be ashamed and embarrassed by it. Quinn tried not to think about the fact that she was helping her step-father cheat on her mother. Surely, finding out that this had been happening behind her back was worse then Quinn selling her nudes online. Either way, she was a coward because she said nothing and continued fucking her mother’s husband.

Quinn was trapped between her step-father’s bulk and the edge of the counter. Already, she could feel the beginnings of his hard on against her ass. Thomas held her tightly, securing her arms behind her back. He pushed her towards the counter, forcing her to lean awkwardly over it. The precarious position highlighted her generous bust which was barely being contained by her the low neckline of her short dress. Her hardened nipples could be easily seen through the thin material. She briefly made eye contact with the cashier but quickly averted her gaze, deeply embarrassed by the situation. Despite her embarrassment and shame, she feel heat begin too bloom between her legs as she felt the cashiers eyes on her tits. She didn’t have to see his face to know that he liked what he saw. In her minds eye, she could already imagine these men sharing her body, fucking her holes and filling her with their cum. She shifted, rubbing her thighs together.

"Oh, I'm not sure I can..I don't, uh,..."

"Come on," he paused, squinting at the young man's name tag. "Gordon? Damn, what did your parents give you an old man name like that for? Anyway, you're gonna pass up a fuck with a pretty young thing like my stepdaughter here. You like girls don't you, son?"

The young man nodded, rendered completely speechless by the situation. He saw a lot of weird shit during his shifts at the convenience store -especially during the late shift- but this was really taking the cake. He thought that the pair were odd when they walked in but he hadn’t thought much of it until they’d gotten to the counter.

"Well then give 'em a feel,” the old man jeered. “You're gonna make her feel bad if you don't. You're gonna make her think somethings wrong with her tits. You don't want that do you."

Thomas pulled down the top of Quinn’s dress, freeing her tits from their confines. Roughly, he grabbed one of her breasts, massaging it with his hand. Quinn whimpered in response. With Thomas’s grip on her loosened, she freed one of her arms and used it to prop herself up on the counter. Hesitantly, the cashier reached forward to gently fondle one of Quinn’s tits.

“Come on, kid!” Thomas exclaimed. “Grab it like you mean it. None of that pussy shit now.”

The cashier nodded and with renewed vigor, grabbed Quinn’s breasts, kneading them with his hands. Her eyes fluttered shut and she seemed to push her tits out as if offering herself up to him. The edge of the counter dug into her hip but she barely noticed. Gordon could feel his dick harden against his thigh as he fondled her. Her skin was soft beneath his finger tips, and her nipples were red and rosy like the cherry on top of an ice cream sunday. Looking at them, at her, made his mouth water. Emboldened, he leaned forward and took one of her nipples into his mouth, sucking it and rolling it with his tongue. Quinn moaned, drool gathering on the ball gag and dripping down her chin to her chest. Thomas watched as the cashier lavished Quinn’s tits with attention. He slipped a hand between her thighs, fingers gently rubbing against her slick folds. He loved have easy access to her pussy so she rarely wore panties around him. Another whine escaped Quinn’s lips as she tried to rock her cunt against his fingers.

“Yeah, you like that don’t you baby. Your little pussy is so wet,” he told her, voice almost loving.

He plunged two fingers into her cunt, slowly pumping them in and out. His hand was quickly covered in her juices as he continued to fuck her with his fingers, first one and then two and three. Gordon paused his ministrations and cocked his head to the side, watching enrapt as the older man fingered Quinn’s cunt. His fingers were shiny with her juices as he pumped them in and out of her hole. With every attempt to pull out, Gordon could see the walls of her cunt tightly clenched around his fingers, seemingly unwilling to let them leave the hot, wet channel. If Gordon had any blood left in his body, it had all rushed to his cock. It throbbed painfully in his shorts begging for attention. He’d been hard for a while but it was becoming almost unbearable. He let go of Quinn’s tits and pushed her out of the way so he could hop the counter to join them on the other side. Seeing movement out of the corner of his eye, Thomas stopped finger fucking Quinn’s pussy to watch the cashier volt over the counter to join them. He took a step back and, tugging at her hip with a wet hand, pulled her back to give the young man room to stand.

Eagerly, Quinn leaned towards the cashier. She braced herself on him, holding onto his hip with one hand. With her other hand, she pulled down the zip of his shorts and pulled out his harden cock. Her eyes widened as she admired its size and thickness. The cashier reached for the ball gag, pulling it out of her mouth. Her eyes locked onto his, she took his thumb into her mouth, running her hot tongue along the tip and sucking on it lightly.

“Fuck” the cashier said, breathless.

Dutifully, Quinn took his cock into her mouth. The cashier groaned, as his cock was enveloped by the wet, heat of Quinn’s mouth. She took him deep until the head of his cock tapped the back of her throat. Her eyes watered but she didn’t gag, instead, she breathed heavily out of her nose trying to steady her breathing.

“Atta girl,” Thomas told her. “Show him how well I’ve trained you. Fuck her throat, son. Don’t worry. She can take it.”

She seemed to gurgle something in the affirmative. He placed his hands on the top of her head and steadily began to fuck her throat. Thomas was right. Quinn forced herself to relax and use her. After a couple of thrust, she pulled her head away, gasping for breath, before she took his cock back in her mouth. As she serviced the cashiers cock, Thomas helped himself to her pussy. He unzipped his pants and pulled out his cock. Giving himself a few strokes, he lined himself up with her cunt. He rubbed his shaft against the lips of her pussy, coating himself in her juices, before he slowly began to push his thick cock into her waiting hole. It didn’t seem to matter how much he fucked her, her cunt felt as tight as it had the first time that he’d had her. He groaned as pushed inch after inch into her cunt until he was seated to the hilt. The two men quickly found a good rhythm using her body, one pulling out while the other pushed in and vise versa.

Adjusting her hold on Gordon, Quinn steadied herself on one hand so she could slip the other between her legs to rub at her tender clit. It didn’t take long before she was writhing and cumming on Thomas’s cock. As she came, her cunt tightened around his shaft and Thomas quickly found himself emptying his load into her cunt. Gordon came soon after. He tried to pull out of Quinn’s mouth to cum on her chest but she held him tight forcing him to cum into her mouth. He pulled out of her lips and she opened her mouth, showing him his load on her tongue before she swallowed.

“You’re not done are you?” she asked, looking up at the cashier with big doe eyes.

The cashier looked down at her, a look of awe on his face. Surely, she was a succubus or some other worldly being. He’d never met a woman with the sexual appetite this one seemed to. He worried that she would suck his soul out of his cock and that he would happily let her do it. Sharing her with her stepfather was a bit strange, but he’d cum so hard it hardly seemed to matter at that point as long as he got to fuck her again. Thomas laughed behind her and slapped her ass, earning him a squeak of surprised from Quinn.

“Horny slut.”

“Please?” she said to the cashier, ignoring her stepfather. “I want to have your cock in my pussy.”

“He can fuck your pussy but I want to fuck your ass while he does it.”

“Uh, yeah. Okay,” Gordon responded, eyes never leaving Quinn.

Thomas pulled out of Quinn’s cunt and unceremoniously picked her up off of her feet. The head of his cock teased her asshole. She reached down and helped to push his cock into her hole, toes curling as his cock filled her ass. Thomas held her with her back again his chest and his hands on her ass. Her legs were open showing off her cunt, still leaking Thomas’s cum, to Gordon’s gaze. Thinking with his lower head, Gordon stepped between her legs and pushed his cock into her waiting hole. Between her juices and Thomas’s left over cum, Gordon’s cock slid in easily.

“Oh my god,” Quinn said with a groan, closing her eyes and learning her head back on Thomas’s shoulder.

“So… fucking…tight,” Thomas said, reeling from the sensation of her ass clenched around him with the additional tightness added from Gordon’s cock in her cunt.

Thomas and Gordon scrambled to adjust their shared grip on her body. Thomas adjusted his grip on her ass and Gordon grabbed hold of her thighs. Working together, they worked to bounce Quinn on their cocks while also attempting to thrust into her holes. It was an awkward process but it felt so good that it didn’t even matter. Quinn had never felt so full in her life. She felt as if any moment she might just combust. It was painful and uncomfortable but so pleasurable.

She opened her eyes and lifting her head off of Thomas’s shoulder, leaned forward to capture Gordon’s mouth in a kiss. He swiped at her bottom lip with his tongue and she opened up her mouth, allowing him to intertwine his tongue with her’s. He was so wrapped up in kissing her that he stopped thrusting which made it much easier for Thomas to hammer his cock into her ass. With a free hand, Quinn reached down to rub her sensitive clit. She moaned against Gordon’s lips as she came. Her body went ridged in his arms as she rode out her orgasm. Greedy, she continued to furiously rub her clit, pushing herself to another orgasm.

“Fuck,” Thomas exclaimed as he felt her clench around him. “Fuck!”

Her asshole was so snug around him that he could hardly move but it was fine, the rhythmic clenching of her hole as she orgasmed guided him to his release. He stood there for a moment, reeling from the sensation. Finally, he braced himself and slowly pulled out of her ass. His cum leaked out of her hole in the absence of his cock but he used his thick fingers to fuck it back in.

Frank no longer right behind her. Gordon lowered her to her feet and turned her, bending her over the counter so he could finish himself off. Frank’s softening cock seemed to wake back up at the sight and he stroked it idly while he watched Gordon roughly pound her from behind until he came deep in her cunt. Gordon took a step back and the two men admired the sight of Quinn’s sloppy, cum covered holes.

“So, I’m good to take the cigarettes, right?”

[ihavethedreamies]

Her Hero | Lee Know

Lee Minho - Stray Kids

Rating: M (18+) MDNI

Word Count: ~5k

Pairing: Podocheong! Lee Know x Noble! AFAB! Reader

(The Podocheong were like the police of Joseon Era Korea)

Genre: Historical AU!, Joseon Era, Reader-Insert, Fluff, Smut, Some Plot, Frenemies-to-Lovers (ish)

!!This is smut…if that much isn't clear you should probably leave now!! MDNI!

Warnings: She/Her Pronouns used, Swearing, Kissing, Pet Names (Sweetheart mostly), Fingering, First Times (Readers), Breeding Kink (kinda), Breathplay, A Single Spank, Masochist! Reader (surprise~!), Unprotected Sex (This is pre-birth control so…)

Summary: When a political rival of your father kidnaps you for a ransom, your father calls on the Podocheong (Police) to rescue you. An extremely handsome Bujang (Lieutenant) rescues you, but you would be loathe to admit you need (and like) a hero.

Author's Note: Here's Lee Know's!! Working on Changbin's, should be up very soon.

At the bottom I will have a guide for all the untranslated words I use, most of which are to do with the clothing they wear.

P.S. I'm having so much fun with these but I have to help watch our dog so she doesn't get on my uncle's furniture and so then I can't work on these during the day :\

Also, if any of my historical information/words are inaccurate, I apologize, I did the best with what research I could and what I know from watching too many historical K-Dramas.

-> Series Hub <-

-> Bang Chan's <-

Let me know if you want to be on the taglist!

I am cross-posting this on Archive. Please reblog! If you know anyone that would like this or future fics but they aren't on here my name and icon are exactly the same on the other site. Happy reading!

Your father was an important man who did important things. Unfortunately, some people didn't like the things he did or the way he did them. Namely, the Right State Minister…your father was the Left State Minister, so they should work together. No. They hated each other. Even more so because your father refused to let you marry the other Minister's son. That made the other man's son hate you…for some reason, like you had any say in the matter. You didn't even know the guy existed till your father told you he had prevented your marriage.

One day, as you waited by the entrance to your family's estate, you draped a sseugaechima over your head, waiting for your brother to join you. He was going to escort you to your friend's house, and you were getting impatient.

"Sorry!" He dashed through the courtyard, leaning down and panting to catch his breath. When he stood, the top of his gat wacked you on the chin and you flinched back.

"Sorry!" He floundered, peeling the head covering off so he could look at your annoyed face for any injury. He was such a klutz but at least he tried to make up for it.

"Let's just go please, orabeoni." You sniffed, recovering your head and you left the estate grounds. Your older brother weaved through the crowd, you held onto the belt of his hanbok to make sure you didn't get separated. There must have been some kind of big event or something going on because there were people everywhere.

"Ah, wait!" You cried out, someone bumped into you hard, and you let go of your brother.

"(Y/N)?" He turned around, his height allowing him to look over most of the crowd, but your own height hid you more. You were shoved and pushed as people whirled around you and called his name out.

"(Y/N)!" He shouted, but before you could reply, something hit you hard in the back of the head and you saw black.

~~~

When you woke up, you hurt. Your head hurt the most, but your whole body was sore. As your senses returned, you looked around in confusion. You were in a bedroom of what looked like an inn or other kind of lodging. Sitting up from the bed, you rubbed at the back of your head, looking around. Did your brother find you? If so, why did he bring you to a lodging rather than just back to your home? He also wasn't in the room. Did you pass out and a random person bring you here till you woke up? At the other side of the room, on the other side of a folding divider, you heard the door open. Unfortunately, it was not your brother that came in, you actually had no idea who it was. He was dressed all in black and his face was even covered.

"W-who are you?" You backed up on the bed, back hitting the wall, like that would really be of any use. He didn't say anything, but he pulled out a dagger and you froze in shock. Logically, you knew you could scream, but you couldn't physically get one out. He stalked forward and you closed your eyes, waiting for the worst. You squeaked when he grabbed your hair, right above where your daenggi was tied, and…cut your hair. He left as quickly as he came, the end of your hair along with the ribbon in his hand. What? Reaching around, you brought your hair over your shoulder to look at where he cut, nearly half of the length was gone.

"That-" you were madder more than anything else. Couldn't he have just undone the ribbon to use as proof? It was clear he didn't want to hurt you because you were in a nice room, not tied up, and other than a throbbing spot on the back of your head, you were unharmed.

After what felt like around an hour of sitting in the corner, contemplating what to do, you got up to look around. You weren't sure about trying to escape. Just because you were unhurt up until then didn't mean your captor would be so merciful if you tried to leave. Plus, you might get more hurt escaping, you were pretty sure you were on a second or even third floor. Just to check though…nope, the window shutters were locked from the other side it seemed. Plus, obviously, so was the door. Great. As time ticked by, you messed with the various objects of décor, trying to prevent boredom. Didn't work. All the drawers were empty and there wasn't even a baduk board for you to mess around with. After being nosy even more, you found a book wedged in the back of a dresser, between the back panel of the drawer and the piece as a whole. You weren't sure how it got back there and when you finally yanked it out, you sighed.

"Better than nothing." It was some old romance book that had been there for probably at least ten years. Sitting at a table in the room, you started the read, not really enjoying it, but it was better than nothing. More time passed and you were glad there was at least a separate room with a chamber pot, but it was getting dark. Your stomach rumbled and you wondered just how long you had been out cold because you and your brother had left the estate fairly early in the morning. When night fell, you found a lantern but had no way to light it. So, you had to sit in the dark, only the faint light of the moon flowed in through the slits of the locked shutters. Sitting back on the bed, your stomach growled again, and you sighed, laying down. You might as well pass time with sleep.

~~~

You were startled awake when there was a loud commotion outside of not just the lodging but also your room. Getting up from the bed you went to try and look through the slats of the windows but couldn't see much. There was a loud crash, and you turned around just in time to see the door break into pieces as someone kicked it open, not even bothering to try and unlock it first. It was the Podocheong! The man that came in had the uniform of a Bujang, and he sighed in relief upon seeing you. Another officer came in then, taller than the man who had kicked the door in.

"We believe we arrested all of the perpetrators, sir." He bowed slightly to the lieutenant, and he nodded, waving him off.

"Are you okay, Lady (Y/N)?" He came forward, brow furrowed in worry, looking over you. You shrunk under his gaze, embarrassed, hiding your face. His hands went to your jaw, making you look at him so he could see if your face was harmed. Your cheeks felt hot under his thumbs, he was strikingly attractive, but also familiar.

"When your brother couldn't find you, he came straight to me." He told you, letting you go, and you nodded, stepping back, looking away again. He then realized how intimate his action had been, and he bowed, apologizing.

"Are you friends with my orabeoni?"

"Yes, my lady. When we both got to your estate to look for you, your father informed us that a ransom letter had been sent for your safe return. I apologize for not getting here much sooner." You shook your head, casting a glance up at him, not sure if you were allowed to really show him your face.

"Here." He removed his jeonbok, draping it over your head so you could hide under it. Thanking him gently, you pulled it down over your more, it smelled like him, which was amazing.

"Let's get you home."

"W-what is your name?"

"Minho of the Lee clan, my lady."

~~~

When you returned home, not just your mother and brother were in tears like you expected, but your father was as well. He wasn't cold normally, but he just had better control of his emotions.

"Thank you, hyungnim." Your brother bowed to Bujang Minho, still sniffing a bit.

"Yes, we cannot begin to express our gratitude, Bujang." Your father thanked him as well and you let your mother lead you further into the estate so she could hug you. You hugged her tightly back, incredibly grateful to be home safe.

~~~

You weren't sure what Minho had asked of your father in return for rescuing you, but he seemed to be hanging around a lot. While, yes, he was mostly with your brother, you would always find him watching you if you happened to be around or passed by. One day you were sitting at the edge of your family's pond under a parasol, messing around with some embroidery work. You were not very good at it even though you enjoyed it.

"Is that supposed to be a flower?" You heard a teasing remark to your side, and you sent a glare at the owner, but, it was not your brother. Quickly, your face reddened, and you looked back down.

"U-uh yes, but as you can see, I am a little poor at this." You huffed a nervous laugh.

"Then why are you doing it?"

"I like it, just-" You yelped when you poked yourself with the needle, quickly putting the tip of your finger in your mouth. Setting the frame on the ground and putting the needle back in the cushion, you ran a finger over the messy stitching.

"What else do you like to do?" You froze when he sat down next to you, not close enough to touch you, but you weren't expecting it. He wasn't in his Podocheong uniform, the light greenish-blue fabric of his hanbok complimented him well. Looking away from where the material seemed to be struggling over his chest, you cleared your throat.

"I enjoy painting, but once again, I'm not great at it."

"Is there anything you enjoy that you are good at?" You saw him tilt his head to rest it on his fist, elbow resting on his knee, from the side of your eye.

"I…" You were a little stumped.

"N-not really." You enjoyed creative and artistic work, but you were not skilled in the field.

"That's not what your brother told me." Your eyes widened and you shot him a wary look.

"Your father isn't even here." Minho rolled his eyes, and you clenched your jaw. He was kind of getting on your nerves. Mostly because he was stupidly attractive, and you didn't like being teased to begin with.

"I haven't shot a bow in years." You whispered, still weary.

"Worried a man won't want to marry you if you can fight?"

"Archery isn't fighting, and I'm not worried about that." You stood up then, leaving the parasol jabbed in the ground, gathering up your frame and embroidery basket, walking around him to head back to your room.

"Let's go do it." He caught up to you, walking backwards, smirking as he walked ahead of you.

"No." It was too risky, you got caught last time your brother took you to his make-shift archery range.

"We can go to the Podocheong training area, no one will know. No one's there now." You had reached the stairs to get up onto the deck of your house, and you halted at the bottom. The offer was extremely tempting…

"Fine, let me get something to change into."

With a bundle of your brother's old clothes in tow, Minho helped you sneak off the estate grounds. He had at least told your brother, so no one thought you got kidnapped again. Your father didn't check on you after dark so he wouldn't know you weren't in your room. After you arrived at the training grounds, you changed in a bathing room and came out.

"You really look like your brother like that." Minho scoffed and you rolled your eyes.

"I know." You sniffed and he led you toward the back where the archery targets were set up. Without waiting for his prompt, you looked over the different bows on the rack and picked one, then grabbed a quiver as well. It felt instantly familiar, and you were glad for that, but your aim was rusty.

"You're supposed to hit the middle." Minho hummed next to you, pointing to where you had hit off to the side quite a bit.

"I know." You grit your teeth, shooting off another arrow and it missed as well. Was it the bow?

"Here." He moved to adjust your grip on the bow, and you yanked away from his hold.

"I don't need your help." You were embarrassed because you said archery was something you were actually good at.

"You did a few weeks ago." The little string of control you had snapped, the fire of your annoyance singing the ends, and you turned to him, glaring at him straight in the eye.

"What, you want me to say thank you? After my father showered you with gifts and allowed you to loiter around our estate? Fall to my knees in gratitude to my hero? Huh? If you want that go to another girl." You turned back away from him, not noticing his amused grin and you shot another arrow, hitting the red bullseye.

"What?" You nearly growled, standing at the door to your room's building, having opened it to find Minho leaning on the wooden column next to the stairs. He was relentless for the next few weeks, and you were really pissed. More so that you missed when he wouldn't show up with that stupid smirk on his pretty face. Why were you starting to like him when he just teased you all the damn time? Wasn't he your brother's friend? He constantly pestered you to go shoot with him, or go ride on his horse, or some other stuff, and you said no to almost everything. You would only eat with him if he brought snacks or a meal because who says no to food?

"I think you dropped this." You looked to see your eunjangdo dangling from his index finger.

"Give it!" You swiped at it, but he held it up and back behind him so you couldn't reach it. The silver shined in the sun, and you jumped to grab it, falling onto him when you couldn't make it.

"Give it back!" You pressed against him more, fingers barely touching the sheath of the dagger.

"Hm, no." He chuckled and you yiped when he wrapped his other arm around you, holding you to him. Your face bloomed with heat, and you could even see the red on the tip of your nose when you looked at his face, very close to yours.

"I really should stop helping you if you don't want a hero so bad." He finally relented and brought the dagger back down, but he didn't let you go. He was warm against you, and you could feel the muscle he had underneath the layers of clothes and even through your own. Your head was swimming, and you didn't even move to grab your eunjangdo from him when it was within reach.

"Have you heard the rumor about the watermill behind your house by the stream?" Instantly you knew what he was talking about.

"Y-You!" Your face's redness changed from embarrassment to rage, and you pulled away from him, slapping him hard, then turning on your heel and going back inside, the silver dagger still dangling in his grasp.

You didn't want to admit why you were crying, but you held the cushion to your chest closer, pressing your tear-stained face into the pink silk. You weren't overly fond of romance and sweet gestures, but the crassness of his suggestion hurt. Did he only want to bed you and then move on? You hoped deep inside he liked you back. And it wasn't until you cried for a good hour that you realized why you were so upset. You liked him. That’s why you wanted him to like you back.

"Dammit." You sniffed, wiping hard at your face with your sleeve.

"(Y/N)?" A soft voice called from just outside your window, only moonlight coming in through it, one small candle illuminating your room softly.

"(Y/N)? I know you're awake." You registered the owner of the voice, and you deflated further into your cushions.

"Go away." You spat at him.

"(Y/N), please?" Minho's tone was like nothing you had heard before, and it was beginning to compel you.

"No." He could probably hear the insincerity in your voice.

"(Y/N), sweetheart, please?" Your heart stopped, then sped into a gallop when he called you that. Your body seemed to act at the will of your heart and not your brain, because you got up, using a step stool, and opened the window. He smiled, genuinely, and it made you swallow hard. You wanted to cry again.

"I'm so sorry." He stepped forward, the window just the right height for him to rest his arms on the sill from where he stood on the porch. You didn't say anything, you were worried you would burst into tears if you tried.

"I said something horrible; I was just trying to tease you and I hurt you. Will you forgive me?" You hadn't heard such a sincere tone from him since he rescued you at the lodging. Your uncertain gaze met his intense one and he sighed.

"What you said awhile back made me think. You said that your father showered me with gifts for saving you? He didn't."

"But…orabeoni said you got confections and a bunch of other stuff."

"That was from him and your mother. Your father had a different gift, but I told him I didn't want it. Not without you agreeing." What?

"Huh?" He smiled at the clear confusion all over your face, the sad look falling off.

"Your father offered you as a gift. As my wife. I said yes, but I wanted to court you first. I didn't do a great job though I guess." Minho sighed and you couldn't hold back then, tears spilling over your cheeks.

"(Y/N)?" He stood up straight and you stepped closer, and he gently cupped your cheek in his hand.

"You should have just said so, you stupid idiot." You hitched a sob with each word, and he smiled, letting out a small laugh.

"Yes. I should have."

~~~

It seemed, to Minho even more than you, the wedding couldn't have been soon enough. It was also hard to hide from your family just how clingy he was. If no one was around, his arms were around you at the very least. He had you sit in his lap while you did most things, his chin on your shoulder, watching you sew or read. More than just a few times he would be standing next to you or hugging you and his hand would sneak lower than he really should have put it. The first time he got a not-very-strong hit to his chest, and he just chuckled.

You were a bit sad to move out of your family home, but you and he were given your own separate house on his father's estate, so far on the edge of the land that it felt like your own. As you stood in your new bedroom, dressed only in your sokchima, flinching at every noise as if it was your… You giggled finally thinking of him as your husband, and you hopped a little with glee. Every noise though made you hope that it was him, returning from his own bath, but most of the time it was just an animal outside, or the wind making the window shutters creak slightly.

Finally, the door to the bedroom opened and he peaked his head in, a serious look on his face.

"Are you ready, (Y/N)? Because I'm running out of restraint." The sharp look in his eyes made you shiver, but you nodded anyway. As he stalked in, the door falling shut behind him, he tugged at the goreum of his sokjeogori, and time slowed down as it fell to the floor. Your eyes skated over the skin that he revealed, and you didn't have time to react, he scooped you up in his arms and easily carried you to the bed. He pinned you to the yo, raised onto a platform and you gasped as his lips sealed over yours. His hand snuck under your head, fingers weaving through your hair at the base of your braid, pressing you even closer to him.

His other hand wandered, snaking up your leg, pushing your sokchima up higher and higher. Feeling his hands on your bare skin made you shiver despite the heat he seemed to be setting. You panted when he finally pulled his tongue out of your mouth, licking his lips like a hungry dog. His eyes though reminded you of a cat on the hunt.

"How rough can I be?" Minho's lips brushed the skin of your neck as he spoke, then his mouth attached, and he sucked hard. You huffed at the feeling; mind not able to stay on track for very long.

"Huh?" You finally managed to get out, hands balled into fists over his shoulders, your pulse seeming to thud harder where he had sucked the skin nearly raw.

"I've been waiting to have you so long, sweetheart, that I just want to breed you like a bitch in heat." The vulgarity of his words shocked you, but it somehow fueled your arousal rather than offending you.

"I want to brand you as mine." He licked a path over your throat, ending at the hickey he had left under your ear. His blunt nails dug into the flesh of your upper thigh as he pulled it up to his waist, his hand sliding down to cup your rear.

"M-Minho-!" You couldn't help but throw your head back with an airy moan as he rolled his hips against yours, his hard cock pressing to your bare core through his pants.

"Tell me now, so I can slow down." You could hear the strain in his voice, his breathing was hard too.

"Don't." So, he didn't. He didn't hesitate either and you squeaked when he rolled you over underneath him, landing on your stomach. Instead of untying your sokchima like a civilized person, he tore the straps at the seams, then yanked the white garment from you and tossed it to the side, leaving you completely naked. Your skin immediately rose into goosebumps from the sudden chill, but the heat of his bare chest pressing to your back instantly took over.

"You're just perfect." He hummed, nearly laying completely on top of you, hard cock nestled in the crest of your butt. Minho's arm snuck under you, sliding up to nestle between your breasts, his hand gripping your jaw. You whimpered at the restraining feeling even though it was nowhere close to tight, and you felt his dick twitch at the noise. His free hand also snuck underneath you, holding himself up with pure core strength, only the elbow of the arm holding you supporting him. As his fingertips ran over your lower stomach you sighed, the muscles twitching at the stimulation. He hummed and you recognized the noise that he always made when he smirked, and your body jerked when his fingers finally met your cunt.

"So wet already, sweetheart." His nose nuzzled behind your ear, the hand at your jaw loosening even further but sliding down just a bit to cup your throat. Quickly, his index finger brushed over your clit, and you whined, and he chuckled, feeling the vibration at his palm.

"M-Minho…" Your head was swimming, and you let out a choking noise when he buried a finger into you.

"Don't worry sweetheart, I'll loosen your tight cunt enough to take my cock." While Minho wasn't always outstandingly proper with you, his crass words still surprised you some. They went straight to your core though, and he felt your gummy walls spasm around the single digit. Slowly, he pumped his finger till you relaxed, the slight sting from the entrance dissipating. You had never even used your own fingers and based off what you felt nestled into your backside, you did need to get prepped. Whether it was on purpose or not, when Minho finally added a second finger, his hand at your throat tightened just enough to put slight pressure on your windpipe. Your cunt spasmed again, harder, and your heart sped up as well, wondering why the sensation excited you so much.

"Oh?" He chuckled, speeding up his hand at your pussy, palm pressing to your throat a bit harder. His palm pressed at your clit and a strong pulse hit your core, and it was getting stronger and stronger.

"W-wait, Minho!" You gasped, having an idea that you were close even if you had never felt it. The intensity startled you a bit.

"Go ahead, (Y/N), fall apart." The hand at your throat pressed enough to make your vision swim and you keened out a moan as you came. He huffed at the squeeze on his fingers, but helped you ride the high out, kissing behind your ear as he did. When he unwrapped his arms from around you, you fell limp on the bedding, still trying to catch your breath. Swallowing a few times to ease the slight soreness of your throat, you heard him shuffle. You, however, had no time to look behind you at him before his hands were on your hips, pulling them up, forcing your butt up in the air.

"What are you-?"

"I said I wanted to breed you like a bitch in heat." Oh, he meant it literally. Unfortunately for you, he hadn't given you the chance to see him bare, because you were not prepared for when he brought the head of his cock to your entrance.

"Breathe, sweetheart." His hands wrapped around your waist, thumbs rubbing circles into the skin of your back, and you focused on measured breaths as the fat head of his dick finally started to press in. Stinging heat seared through you from your core out as he entered, and you couldn't tell what it felt like. Somehow it hurt like hell but also felt so good, so much so you thought you might pass out. You fisted the bedding below you, gasping for air as he slid in, the slick of your arousal aiding the entrance.

"Your cunt's hugging my cock so good~" Minho sighed, the noise turning into a groan as he buried even further. How much further would he go? The searing heat was so deep you wondered if he would stop anytime soon.

"Just a bit…" He chuckled when he finally bottomed out, the tip pressing snugly to the base of your womb. Tears had sprung to your eyes, your whole face felt hot, and you panted hard, trying to get used to the odd feeling. Yes, it hurt, but it felt so much better than you thought it would.

"Tell em when you're ready, my love." He leaned over you again, kissing your shoulder gently and petting your hair.

"Go." You answered almost immediately, and his soft touches halted.

"Love, are you sure?"

"Fuck, please!" You weren't sure why you needed him to start already, logic told you it would hurt, but you craved it. It felt so dirty to like the burn so much, but you couldn't help it.

"Yeah?"

"Please!" Your breath was forced from your lungs when he rolled his hips, pulling out halfway before snapping back into you, hard. He felt your core pulse around him, a rush of your arousal soaking his cock, and he grinned like a madman.

"So fucking perfect." He immediately began a brutal pace, but still held back some, only pulling out half before driving his cock back home, battering your womb.

"W-wait, oh! Ah! Fuck!" The same waves of pleasure were already cresting, so much stronger than before and Minho relished in feeling the clench of your gummy walls around his cock instead of his fingers.

"So good." He mumbled to himself, licking his lips and as you got closer…

"Fuck!" You squealed when his hand came down on your ass, leaving a red print on your skin and you came again. He gasped a laugh as your arousal drenched his cock and his groin, leaving a shining trail down both your thighs. Minho laughed at your whine of disapproval when he pulled out, but it turned to a gasp as he flipped you over. He threw one of your legs over his shoulder, ankle at his ear, holding the other to his side, and he filled you again. Your vision spotted from the stinging pleasure the overstimulation was causing you, but you focused on his gorgeous face. He had that cocky smirk on his face, sweat beading down from his forehead and you whimpered at the sight. With what little strength you had, you propped yourself up to see where he was splitting you open. Whether it was the sight or his next thrust, you fell back limp and fisted the sheets as he fucked you like a rabbit. His shallow movements were even harder than before, and your eyes rolled back, back arching as your next orgasm rose.

"Oh, what a good girl, cum for me, love." Minho took your hands in his, your legs barely wrapping around him to hold on. His fingers wove through yours, lips meeting once more as his pace stuttered. He must have felt your moan against his tongue as you came once more, the tight vice of your cunt spurred him over the edge as well. Your core burned even hotter as his cum filled you to the point where it spilled from you, mixing with your own. Your body went limp, and Minho hummed, kissing your forehead.

"I love you." He left little pecks all over your face and you giggled sleepily.

"I love you, too. I'm glad you saved me that day."

"No, (Y/N), I think you saved me."

Sseugaechima - this is the extra-skirt looking garment women would wear over their heads. Gat - this is the hat that noblemen would wear, more specifically the ones that were black and made of mesh. Orabeoni - more archaic/historical word for older brother to a girl. Hanbok - traditional/historical clothing, most people think of women's dresses, but men's clothes were called this as well. Daenggi - the ribbon that was tied around a unmarried girl's braid. Baduk - Korean word for the Chinese game of Go. Podocheong - essentially the Joseon era police. Bujang - a Lieutenant-level position in the Podocheong. Jeonbok - kind of like a long vest worn over a hanbok. Hyungnim - a more commonly used term historically for a man to an older brother or friend. Eunjangdo - a silver dagger that many women wore as an accessory, mostly nobles. Sokchima - basically a dress/skirt like under-garment. Goreum - the ties that fastened the top of a hanbok. Sokjeogori - a shirt worn as an undergarment. Yo - a Korean floor mattress.

-> Series Hub <-

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Stray Kids Master List

Taglist: @huldrelokken, @estella-novella, @astrobebba, @kayleefriedchicken, @minghaosimp

[frownyalfred]

🪲

🪲 ⇢ add 50 words to your current wip and share the paragraph here

(a little over 50 words but the paragraph didn’t make a lot of sense alone…sorry)

—-

The smell of fresh blood -- Lois’ blood -- filled the room. Clark went still, eyes locked on the rapidly darkening pad under Lois’ legs.

Before he could open his mouth, Bruce’s hand gripped his, shaking it vigorously between them.

“Congratulations, man,” Bruce said loudly, tugging them both away from the bed. “Your mom is going to be thrilled. I know you promised to give her that phone call right away.”

Clark stared at him. Bruce used the hand he was shaking to pull him into a hug, slapping him on the back several times.

“Go outside,” Bruce breathed, just loud enough for Clark to hear. “Don’t come back in until I give the all clear.”

A tell-tale weakness began to spread up Clark’s fingers. He stared down at the glimmer of sickening, glowing green he could see hidden in Bruce’s left hand, the outline of his bones flickering in and out of focus.

“Tell her I said hi,” Bruce said, pulling back. “We’ll get her a few pictures when everything’s settled here, yeah?”

Go NOW, in Bruce-speak. What the hell are you still doing here?

Clark stumbled out into the corridor. His hands were trembling, leached of normal blood flow by the shard of Kryptonite in Bruce’s possession.

He slid down the nearest wall, feeling utterly useless. The nurses and staff passing by ignored him, focused on the other six ongoing labors Clark could sense on the floor.

To them, he was just another father who couldn’t crack the sight of blood.

[ldysmfrst]

American Mate (13) - Shall We?

Paring: Hybrid!BTS Ot7 x Plus-sized Human FemReader

Status: Ongoing series

Chapter number: 13 of unknown

Word count for Chapter: 9,681

Work count for Story: 96,460

Genre: Hybrid Playmate Au inspired by works created by @yoongiofmine

A little about the author: I am a mother of two beautiful children, one of whom has special needs, and the other loves everyone. I started a Patreon, and I would be grateful if you donated to help me make ends meet while I am out of work because I almost died in August of 2024.

Warnings: NOT BETA READ!! This chapter does have pack dynamics, comfort, possessiveness, angst, major mentions of past trauma, Violence, Loss of pregnancy, and Alpha fronting.

BTS HYBRID ANIMAL TYPES: Seokjin - Roan Ferret, Yoongi - Black Jaguar, Hoseok - Marten, Namjoon - Alaskan Timber Wolf, Jimin - Red Panda, Taehyung - White Southwest African Tiger, Jungkook - Flemish Giant Rabbit

AMERICAN MATE MASTER LIST / LDYSMFRST MASTER LIST

Knockknockknock

Startling you out of your depressing thoughts, you call out, “Who is it? I am in the bath still.”

“Ma’am, I am Bethan Ann, Omegan Alaskan Bear Hybrid and head of the preparation team. Prime Alpha Kim sent us to get you ready for the Gala. Whenever you are ready, please come out,” calls a sweet voice.

“Oh, is it really that time already?” you comment.

“Yes, ma’am but no worries, we have plenty of time. Prime Alpha Kim stressed the importance of going at your pace to ensure your relaxation,” Bethany Ann informs. “We will wait for you in the living room.”

You think whelp time for solitude is over as you climb out of the bath and dry off. You have to remember that in the future, you can ask the boys for anything, even alone time. They have told you that, and so has their manager, Sejin. 

After slipping on Namjoon’s robe, you cannot help but smile as the scent of leather blends with the vanilla from your bath. Surprisingly, it is a delightful mix. The vanilla softens the leather, offering comfort and a sense of safety. 

Namjoon is the leather boy of the group. Being a Prime Alpha, it makes sense that his scent is naturally stronger. It makes it easier for him to leave his scent behind as a show of possession and territory.

Walking out of the bathroom, a blush settles over your cheeks at the thought of having the Alaskan Timber Wolf hybrid claim possession over you. 

“Ma’am?” asks a younger woman standing at your doorway. “If you please, would you follow me to the living room? Bethany Ann thought that it would be easier for the Alphas of the house to watch you from there without being in the way.”

“Sure, but you won’t have to worry about them. Jimin and Yoongi know to stay out of the area,” you mention, following behind her.

“True, I believe it was the two of them that may have dragged the third one away,” she giggles.

“Oh? Third one? Jungkook?” Your confusion is showing.

“Ah yes, he wasn’t happy with Bethany Ann being present since she is of hybrid descent,” the young lady smiled softly. “He was worried about scent tainting, but Miss Bethany Ann doesn’t have any scent glands.”

“Yep, I was born with them but they weren’t very strong. My mother was human, and my father was a hybrid, which means I only got the smaller scent glands, fluffy hair, body structure, and strange sleeping habits,” Bethany Ann says as she joins the conversation. 

“Oh, I didn’t know that traits would pass down like that,” you say in awe. 

“There are more hybrid mixed humans out there than people are aware of. Many end up losing their physical animal features but keep some of the other behavioral or physical traits.” Bethany Ann smiles.

“How can you not have a scent but you have scent glands?”

Bethany Ann’s smile falters, but before you can withdraw your question, she says, “Bears have glands in either their hands or feet.  I ended up with skin cancer that spread to the scent glands in my feet. I was lucky enough that we caught it and removed the infected tissues before it got any farther.”

“Anyways, we are here to turn you from the pretty woman you already are into a gorgeous princess ready for her ball right?” Bethan Ann says as she has you sit in a salon chair. 

Everything before you that is set up on the vanity before you look brand new: makeup, jewelry, and hair pieces. Bethany Ann is the principal stylist and has two human assistants: Cindy and Kat. 

Bethany Ann oversees your makeup, Cindy works on your hair, and Kat deals with your nails. Soon enough, the three of you laugh, and it feels like you have known them for years. 

You learn that Bethany Ann met Cindy and Kat, a mom-and-kid duo rocking the Cosmetic industry, during BTS’s Love Yourself World Tour. They were set to go on the Map of the Soul tour, which got canceled. However, they got along so well and had an equal love for Ateez that they made their own line of cosmetics called MayNell.

You notice a purple, white, and silver trend in all of the choices. “I take it my dress is purple or white?”

“Ah, well we have a few choices for you that are either purple, white, silver, or black. Namjoon already has his suit ready and we will match his accessories to the color of your dress,” Bethany Ann informs you.

It seems time flies when you are having fun.

Kat, you had learned, is gender fluid, born female. Their mom, Cindy, was a widow and that “cat friend” that everyone had. Both were human but found themselves more comfortable around hybrids than anyone else. 

“Oh yeah, I… you guys were amazing. I feel great and relaxed because of you three,” you sigh. “I just wish I could see you again. Can we exchange numbers?”

“Oh of course! In fact, I am sure if you bat your eyes a little and let those boys know that you want us around we can find a way to become your primary team,” suggests Cindy. 

“Really?” You question with your hopes up as you hand over your phone. “I couldn’t flat out ask Namjoon for that. You have others to work on.”

“Actually, we are contracted. Which means we can take on any client we want, if the proposal to be your prep team comes by our desk…” Bethany Ann looks at the other two, “I don’t think any of us would be against it.”

Taking back your phone, you think about the proposal. Could you ask for that? You are just a Playmate. It’s not like you will be in front of the camera that often, right?

You got along with all of them, but Bethany Ann felt more like a sister, like how your Omega Evie felt. You could easily see her getting along with your family pack, but now wasn’t the time to add new members. 

You learned that as a hybrid descendant, she didn’t have a “predominant” second gender like full-fledged hybrids, but she identified as a Beta. When she was younger, she hated being a part of the hybrid “collective,” as she used to call it until she was an adult.

She got her college degree in fashion and cosmetics and started working under JYP. While working under JYP, she met several Idols and ended up working with StrayKids. She admitted that she now follows the hybrid culture because of one of the StrayKids members. This led to an almost hour-long session for all four of you about StrayKids. 

You confess that your Bias is Flix and your wrecker is Chan, which causes the others to almost fall off their chairs in laughter.

“Chan as in Bang Chan aka Christopher?” asks Bethany Ann.

“Well yeah, not Changbin though I used to get their names confused at the beginning because I knew Chan as Chris but that man has like so many names. I mean heck one of them even has numbers in it!.” 

You look at Bethany Ann as she continues to laugh but pulls out her phone.

She puts her phone on speaker, and you hear it ringing a few times before a voice comes on, “Hey, babydoll, aren’t you working right now?”

Your eyes turn to saucers as you hear the Australian accent in the voice over the phone. Involuntarily, you let out an unladylike gasp of “no way in hell” and cover your mouth, looking rapidly between the phone and the bear hybrid. 

“Hi Channie, I am at work and my client turns out to be a StrayKids stan,” she says with a giggle still in her voice.

“Oh, was that her in the background that I heard?” Chan asks. Of course, he would hear it. Like most idols, StrayKids has only two human members but Chan, the leader and Alpha, is a Tasmania Tiger-wolf hybrid.

Shaking your head, your eyes still unblinking, you attempt to stop Bethany Ann from bringing the phone closer to you. 

“You got it. Guess who her bias is?” teases Bethan Ann.

“Me?” questions the Aussie with a hilt of excitement.

“Nope sorry love. It’s Felix-ah. Is he nearby? Though maybe she could say hi,” inquires Bethany Ann.

“Nononononono,” you hiss quietly, “Bethany Ann… noo.”

However, to your luck(??), you hear Chan’s muffled yelling before he gets back on the phone, “Can I talk to the Stay, babydoll?”

You let out an undignified eek sound, which caused another laughing fit and a laugh from the phone: “Wait, wait… did you tell her?”

“Nope. Guess I should though. Y/n, Christopher is my mate. We found out the first time I worked with StrayKids, he courted me and it's been official for a little over a year.”

“Oh my god! My wrecker is Mated! I am sorry! I can pick someone else. I promise!”

Again, you are met with more laughter from everyone. “Babydoll, let me talk to my Stay.”

“You are on speakerphone, and her name is Y/n, and technically, she is Felix-ah’s Stay,” Bethan Ann says as she places the phone in your hand. You just look at it.

“Hello Y/n, I am Bang Chan, leader of StrayKids. Thank you for being a stan of my pack,” he says smoothly, his Aussie accent coming out the more he speaks. 

“Hi,” is all you can say. 

“You don’t have to worry about picking a different wrecker. Bethany Ann knows that I have people who like me. While I can’t say that I am happy to only be your wrecker, I can say that I am honored to have a fan who would respect my mate as well as you do.”

“Hey, Innie said you wanted me, Alpha?” A very deep-voiced Felix is heard through the phone, causing your breath to catch.

“Bethany called and wanted us to talk to someone. Here. Say hi and introduce yourself properly,” Chris says before you can hear the phone move around.

“안녕하세요, 저는 StrayKids의 Felix입니다. 잘 지내시죠?” the deep voice says. 

It’s at that moment you die. 

Like almost literally. 

It isn’t till Bethany Ann nudges your shoulder that you respond, “안녕하세요, Felix-ssi.”

“Oh, Y/n speaks Korean? She was speaking English,” you hear Chris comment in the back.

“Y/n, do you prefer English?” asks Felix.

You nod, then remember this is over the phone, “Ah yes, please. I know Korean... kinda but I am American so English is my first language. Icanspeakineitherwhicheveryouwantmeto.”

You hear a chuckle rumble over the speaker as Felix understands what he got brought into. Dropping his voice into his lower register, Felix asks,  “Y/n, you wouldn’t happen to be one of our lovely Stays would you?”

Your palms are sweating as you answer, “I am.”

“Hmm…” he almost growls. “I take it from Channie-hyung’s face that he isn’t your bias then?”

From the background, Chris comments, “I am her wrecker, at least.”

“That’s very nice,” Felix says, causing you to giggle softly. “I would think it would be even more nice if that meant… I was your bias, Y/n. Am I?”

“Ah huh,” you affirm, as you cannot believe you are even having this conversation.

 StrayKids is known for not working with any Playmate service companies, so you knew you would only get to meet or talk to them if you could only find a way to afford a fan meet or a send-off.

“Well now you at least have talked to us, Y/n.” Felix states.

“Shit. I said that outloud?” you question, looking around only to have the team trying their best not to die from laughter.

“Yes, you did, but that is okay, you're mine, and any friend of noona’s is a friend of ours,” the blonde Aussie says.

“Careful now, Felix-ah. Y/n-noona is Bangtan’s newest Playmate and my client. So keep the flirting to a minimum thank you,” Bethany Ann playfully scolds the boy. 

“Alright, noona, I will behave, but you have to find a way for her to come see us. I would still love to meet her,” says Felix with a whine.

“That is if she can get away from Bangtan Pack,” Chris pipes up.

“두 분이 계시네요,” another voice joins in . “이제 행사장으로 갈 시간입니다.”

“Okay Innie,” Felix agrees. “Oh wait, INNNNIIEEE.”

“뭐가 필요하세요, Lix?” the voice, now known as Innie, says.

“Say hi to my Stay Y/n-noona,” Felix instructs. “In english.”

“Oh. Hi noona! I am Jeong-In. You may be Lix’s stay for now but don’t worry. I will save you!”

“Yah!!!” you hear before a clattering noise takes over. 

“Jeong-In-ssi, Felix-ssi, Chan-ssi???!!!” you exclaim.

“Got it!” Chan says, picking up the line. “Innie always tries to convince Felix's stans to fall for him instead. No worries, noona. It’s all fun and games. But yeah, you should come see us one day,” Chris affirms.

“I hate to cut this short but we really do have to get over to MusicBank. Babydoll, you know what to do. See you when you get a chance,” Chan says before the line goes dead.

“I cannot believe you!” you playfully slap Bethany Ann’s shoulder. “I was not prepared! Like you cannot just call up someone like that!”

“Sorry, but I couldn’t help it after your 5- —or was it a 10-minute speech about why Chan is the best leader and how amazing Felix was for persevering,” Bethany Ann smiles at you and goes back to getting you ready.

(NOTE: If you would like to see what is being described, please go to American Mate- LACMA Gala with Namjoon)

After trying on a few gorgeous dresses, your heart stuttered in your chest when you tried on a specific purple one. Purple had always been your favorite color, and you had your fair share of purple dresses, but this… this was something else. 

It was a Fongt African Evening Maxi Dress, allowing you to move comfortably while showing off your natural shape.

There was a peephole in the chest area that was not very provocative. According to Bethany Ann, “You gotta keep it classy but still appealing.” 

The sleeves had a slit from neckline to wrist with one strip of cloth allowing it to still move with your arms just above the bend of your elbow. 

The cuffs were lined with satin and pearls, which you learned were real when they matched with beautiful dangle earrings with a flower resembling the bracelet that Seokjin gave you. 

Your shoes were made of white satin and wrapped around genuine pearl ankle straps. The heels were high enough to be a heel but still comfortable to walk in, but what they did was elongate your leg when you stepped forward, and the slit in the skirt of the dress opened to just above the knee. 

Your makeup was done with a dramatic black winged liner, purple eyeshadow to match the dress, and white accents to pull more pearl and satin into your look. Your lips were kept natural with a simple satin-speckled gloss.

Your nails were painted an almost hombre look, going from white tips to deep purple and an almost matching satin-speckled topcoat. 

Finally, your hair was curled, re-curled, and pinned within an inch of your life, but it looked amazing. It flowed like a river in soft waves down one side of your head. Somehow, they gave you volume and fake bangs, which you could never do on your own. 

“All done,” announces Bethany Ann.

Ring Ring

“Hello?” you answer your phone.

“Y/n, it’s Namjoon. Jen should be there with the car shortly. Are you almost ready to go? Did MayNell do well?”

“Yes, they were amazing. I haven’t had this much fun getting ready for a Gala in my life,” you say, smiling at the team. Movement behind them catches your attention as you see Jen approach.

“Oh, Jen is here now. I have to go, Namjoon. I will see you soon.”

“Really quick hand the phone to one of the team, please, before you go,” instructs Namjoon.

“Bethany Ann, he wants to talk to one of you,” you say, holding out the phone. A series of Yes, Prime Alphas, that won’t be a problem, understood, and humms come from her while you wave hello to Jen. 

The conversation isn’t long and ends with Bethany mumbling something about it being in the trunk before she hangs up and hands you back the phone. 

“It looks like we will be seeing you again, as we will be on stand-by at the Gala for last-minute touch-ups and maintenance throughout the night,” she says with a smile. The other two clapped excitedly as they piled up the used makeup so they would know what to use for later tonight.

“Miss Y/l/n, we should get going soon. Prime Alpha Kim is already on location,” Jen informs you.

Nodding, you make your way to follow Jen, waving goodbye to the team. Once outside, you see that it’s the same black car that was used for your date with Seokjin. Carefully making it down the stairs to the car, you hear a cat call coming from behind you. 

Spinning around, you see Yoongi still whistling at you, and Jimin and Jungkook join in with hoots and hollers.

“Who is that sexy beast?” Jimin calls out, causing you to blush.

Jungkook is snapping probably a trillion pictures while he yells, “Work with me, pose, and pose. Now Vogue!”

“Have a lovely night, Princess,” Yoongi calls out while holding onto the back of his younger mates to keep them from running after you like he wants to.

The drive is calming, Jen, having put on 104.3 MyFm. The pop songs allow you to just live in them for now. 

You thought you would be more nervous about tonight than you really are, but Bethany Ann, Cindy, and Kat made you feel comfortable, and the boys made you feel wanted. 

Even if they were a bit dorky about it. 

With that, your mind wanders to the rest of the boys. They all knew that you were nervous about tonight. It wasn’t just the Gala with the dancing, tons of famous people, and the media that was making you nervous– it was Namjoon.

Sure, you went on a non-date date with Seokjin, which felt more like an actual date than any you had ever been on, but that was with Jin. Someone closer to your age, not the Prime Alpha of a sizeable mate-bonded pack, and someone not powerful enough to make or break your career. 

Prime Alpha Kim Namjoon was. 

Looking out the car window, you see you are on a beautiful winding road, not the busy streets you expected.

“Jen, where are we?”

“We are almost there, Miss. Prime Alpha Kim is waiting for you just ahead,” she responds with a smile.

Turning around a final bend, you see the unmistakable dome of the Griffith Observatory. When you first got to California, you used to come here all the time. You can see a few spattering groups of people, but it was fall and getting colder earlier, so there weren’t many. 

After Jen parked the car, she got out and opened your door. Guiding you around the side of the building, you see a few men in suits blocking a path for visitors, but allow the two of you in. 

“He is right down this path, Miss,” Jen instructs. “The car will be waiting and ready to head to the Gala when you are finished.”

“Thank you, Jen,” you say as you walk down the path around the left of the main building.  

Once you come around the last of the curve, you see a stunning view of Los Angeles. The sun is starting to set, which is casting a red and orange tint on the skyscrapers. You can see the lights from homes and offices turn on, making it look like the sky has blessed the ground with stars, but that isn’t what falters your steps.

Right now, you see him. 

Namjoon. 

He was observing the same setting sun with his back to you. He looked like a king looking over his kingdom, and his power and presence exuded from his very being. 

100% Alpha.

His suit isn’t the one from this morning—no, no. It’s solid white from top to bottom, and against the bleeding colors of the sun, it makes him look stunning. His broad shoulders and solid back look like they could carry the world. The suit jacket accentuates his waist. The pants—wow, the strain of the material emphasizes the musculature beneath them.

Absent-mindedly, you have continued to walk forward with timid steps, and the slight breeze from behind you carries your scent to the Prime Alpha before he hears you. 

With a quick turn, he faces you with a smile that turns to awe and shock as he takes you in. He knew you were beautiful before, but now, “You look like an angel.”

You shy at his words as you join him, “You are the one in all white, Namjoon. You look more like an angel.”

Upon hearing your words, a faint blush dusts his cheeks. Clearing his throat, he genuinely smiles at you, dimples and all, “I could never be an angel, but you sure could be mine.”

“Thank you,” you accept his compliment with your own responding blush. 

Looking past him to gather your thoughts, you smile again at the view, “It’s so pretty up here. Isn’t it? I used to come here all the time.”

“I know,” he comments, causing you to look at him with a furrowed brow. “I may have asked your Beta, where your favorite spot in the city was. I hope you don’t mind?”

“Looking into me, I see,” you tease. “I don’t mind. I think it’s sweet that you were interested in knowing and wanting to surprise me. Brownie points for caring.”

Your last comment now draws a look of confusion from him: “Has no one ever brought you here before?”

Walking up to the railing, you debate how much you want him to know before the Gala. This would be the best time to discuss things with him before he goes from Namjoon to RM.

“I... I don’t have much experience in this, Namjoon,” you start. “Everything I tell you tonight, you should tell Bangtan.”

Without waiting for his agreement, you continue, “After moving to California when I was 11, I pretty much became an only child with a controlling but distant mother. I learned what it meant to be a family or a pack from Evie’s family.”

Namjoon joins you at the railing. His body turned to face you, his attention on nothing else. Glancing at the intensity of his focus, you pause and focus back on the slowly darling sky.

“I learned in high school that touching, hugging, cuddling was equal to whoring since I wasn’t a hybrid. So when a boy or girl would become comfortable with any of it, I took it as if they wanted to be with me.”

“How wrong I was,” you sigh out. Namjoon, having moved closer to you while slowly pushing his calming leather scent into the air.

“I dated a few times. According to my mother, I slutted my way through the short time I was in college till I ended up meeting Eric. I thought he was going to be my forever.”

It takes everything within Namjoon to keep his Alpha at bay while you talk about being with someone else. You are their mate and no one else’s. How dare someone lie to you about you being theirs.

At your silence, Namjoon tentatively takes a step forward and places a hand on your shoulder, “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to, Y/n.”

“I know, but with you being the Prime Alpha of the pack, there are things you should know.” 

Taking a deep breath and leaning into Namjoon’s touch, you feel your nerves settle down a little bit more. 

“Eric was fantastic at first. He even helped my mother when she was ill and bought her a condo when we decided to move in together. Mom was thrilled that I was not only with someone from a societal class, but he wasn’t a hybrid. He was so kind, respectful, attentive, but that changed. At first, I thought it was me. I didn’t make dinner on time. I was being flirty with the waiter. I dressed improperly for the occasion.”

“It started with underhanded comments and backward compliments. It wasn’t long before it turned into leaving bruises from harsh grips to busted lips from getting slapped and the occasional twisted ankle from him pushing me out of his way.”

“I was with him for almost ten years because I thought he loved me. Why would anyone who didn’t love me buy me gifts and sleep with me if they didn’t love me? Right?”

You wipe the tears that start falling, only to have Namjoon hand you a handkerchief, “oh thank you.”

“I am sure you saw in the medical portion of the contract that I had a miscarriage, right?” you question, turning to face him.

Not trusting his words, Namjoon only nods in confirmation. His Alpha is eerily quiet now, waiting for your following words.

“I had found out that I was pregnant. Seven weeks along. I was so happy because it would explain why I constantly felt exhausted and nauseous. I just knew that this news of a baby would make Eric elated and then we could get married and he would treat me better because I was carrying his baby.”

By this point, your lip is trembling, your breath is stuttering, and your skin is hot from the turmoil of emotions, but you knew Namjoon had to know, not only because of the contract but because of his pack. He needed to know that you had so much more baggage than what the contract said. 

They all needed to know that you were broken and worthless.

“So I made his favorite dinner, wore his favorite pink dress, and waited for him to return home from work. I waited… and waited… and waited but ended up falling asleep at the dining room table before he got home.”

“He finally came home late that night, almost 2 am, and yelled at me for wasting food. He was slightly buzzed and had gone out with the boys. I of course apologized but told him that I had something special to share.”

“So I told him,” looking down at my nails, my throat so tight it is almost impossible to speak, I try to continue, “He wasn’t happy. He punched me for the first time that night. Right in the stomach. Then he grabbed my purse, took me by my hair to the stairwell, and pushed me down it.”

“The whole time, he was screaming at me about how ugly I was, how fat I was, how worthless and pathetic I was. He threw me my purse and told me to get rid of the devil’s pawn that I was carrying.”

“I ran and ran. I don’t remember calling Evie. I don’t know how she found me and got me to the hospital. But she did. I ended up with two fractured ribs, an ankle sprain, and a miscarriage.”

Next thing you know, Namjoon is pulling you into a hug. His large form engulfs you in leather and vanilla scents, a soft growl rumbling in his chest, and he just holds you like you will fall apart if he lets go. 

“It broke me,” you mumble into his chest. “I moved into my flat, brought Derek into the pack, and took time healing.”

Pushing slightly on his waist, Namjoon slowly releases his hold. Looking at you, you can see his eyes hold pain and anger for what you have gone through, but there is something else. It isn’t pity. It almost looks like awe.

“Namjoon, I haven’t been with anyone since,” you say, hoping he understands what you mean. 

Rubbing his hands up and down your arms, you see the thought process: “That is… he caused… skinship. This is why you are hesitant about skinship outside your family pack. The one person you allowed to be close to you with skinship destroyed the meaning and true purpose behind it.”

“Angel. Y/n. I don’t mean to be rude, but he is an asshole. He is worse than but, but,” growl. “I don’t want to rant. Thank you for telling me all of this. I can see why you have reacted to the pack as you have so far.”

Namjoon takes a moment to look at the now-set sun and the night skyline before continuing.

“First off, Angel, you are not broken; you are beautiful. Bangtan is so lucky to have such a strong and fierce woman to be with. Secondly, there is nothing wrong with not being with anyone else after going through what you have been through and we are not going to force you to do anything that you are not comfortable with.”

“But the contract said..” you start, but Namjoon cuts you off.

“I know what the contract says, and we are sticking to it. You don’t have to be the world’s best at skinship. Skinship takes time, trust, comfort, and connections. Omegas are naturally prone to want skinship, Betas see it as a way to regulate the pack but Alphas do it out of desire and want.”

“Yoongi-hyung wants to be your safe space, Jungkook-ah desires to be your happy place, and the rest of us are right there with them. We weren’t lying when we told you that you are special to us, but we just need you to see if we are special to you as well. In time.”

Taking in a deep breath, you shudder as you look him in the eyes. “Derek told me to heal and see where this all goes before he left the meeting yesterday. I know now that he was talking about more than just my wrist.”

“And are you okay with that?”

“I…I think I am.” Your statement draws a stunning smile from the wolf hybrid, “but. But… it’s still going to take time. I mean just today Jungkook and Taehyung barely kissed and I felt like I was watching a private moment.”

“It was a private moment but it was a private moment they wanted to share with you, Angel,” says Namjoon. “In front of the cameras, Bangtan pack is very playful, like on Run BTS, or stoic, like at Awards. However, behind closed doors… Bangtan is very affectionate. Sometimes, the younger ones can get a bit lustful and I have to shove them behind closed doors because it’s too much for even me.”

You giggle at the thought of locking the trio in a closet or “Have you ever tried a bucket of ice water?”

That pulls a hearty, honest laugh out of the Prime Alpha, “That would be very funny, but no, we haven’t. Jinnie-hyung would hate getting the packhouse wet like that.”

Taking your hands with seriousness on his face, Namjoon says, “Y/n, I will let the rest of the guys know what you told me. I will do my best to ensure that none of them hunt down this Eric person.”

“But I want you to be ready for them to comfort you, to want to hold you, to show you what skinship is supposed to mean. Also, be aware that if we don’t want you involved in our private moments, as you call them, we wouldn’t do them while you are there.”

You smile softly, and something inside you vibrates with almost excitement about being able to feel all of these things again, even though it still scares you a bit. “Well, you don’t have to worry about Eric. Evie and Derek, even before he was a pack member, had been collecting documentation and evidence of Eric’s abuse, and now he is in jail. He isn’t getting out because there were others before me.”

Stepping away from him, you glance at the sparkling city below. “Even though this chapter of my life started with a minor disaster, I think it will be a journey worth taking.”

“And you have seven men to take it with you, even step of the way,” Namjoon says, stepping up behind you and placing his hands on your shoulders, observing the sights below.

You learned more about Namjoon's family pack, his underground rapping start in the music world, and some funny stories about their first few years as BTS before they became famous.

By the time you had to leave for the Gala, any and all nerves about being around Namjoon had vanished. He was super intelligent, caring, and thoughtful. 

You just felt calm around him.

He offered you his arm as you walked back to the car, which you were grateful for since it had turned chilly with the night sky. 

“Angel, I have something for you,” Namjoon says as he points to a purple and white bag one of the guards at the trail entrance holds. 

He reaches inside and pulls out a lovely satin and lace bundle. Shaking it out, you see that it is a cloak!

You reach out to take it from him only to get it pulled away, and Namjoon wraps it around your back with a flourish.

“I had this made for you after I heard how well your date with Jin-hyung went. I wanted you to join me tonight, and I knew what I would be wearing, so I wanted us to match.”

He continues talking as he ties the cloak in place, “It’s made of thicker satin around the shoulders because I heard you get cold quickly, and the lace is made in the design of our Smeraldo flower which symbolizes love and hope.”

Wrapping yourself tighter in the folds of the cape, you can’t help but feel like the material is hugging you back. “It's lovely, Namjoon. Thank you so much.”

“It also has a hood, but I don’t want to ruin your hair.”

After driving to a preparation area, you meet with Bethany Ann, Cindy, and Kat. All three rush to fix your make-up and playfully scold Namjoon for making you cry. 

When you try to explain that you were the reason for crying, they still playfully scold Namjoon for allowing you to discuss matters that made you cry. 

They also do a bit of makeup on Namjoon, transforming him from handsome to devastating. Yeah, you won't survive them all in makeup and suits. 

Nope.

After adding a purple pocket square, amethyst cufflinks, and button covers (you didn’t know that was a thing) to Namjoon's look to match you more, Bethany Ann deems you ready for the Red Carpet.

You are escorted to a different car with extremely heavily tinted windows. Jen is still your driver but is now in an all-black pantsuit with purple and white satin accents. 

You guess it is a BTS image thing to be all matchy-matchy.

The drive to the Gala is relatively short but still long enough for your nerves to try to kick in. 

Namjoon is holding your hand while scrolling on his phone, “Well, it looks like the news broke about you being our new playmate.”

You reactively squeeze his hand tighter.

“It seems like many are supportive of it because we are on tour, and they hope you can comfort us,” he smiles down at you with moon eyes. “Army already loves you and after tonight so will everyone else.”

The car stops, and you can see the flashing lights through the tinted windows. Both of you take a few deep breaths.

 “Ready?” he asks. With your nod, he knocks on the window, and Jen opens the door. 

The next eternity is spent getting blinded by flashing lights and being asked an excessive number of questions that you can barely hear. Namjoon, thankfully, noticed your anxiety. Bending to whisper in your ear, “Don’t worry about answering these questions, just ignore them.”

Well, you thought before that you were getting blinded and bombarded… now it was 100 times more than that just because of the whispering.

Finally, you go to areas where panels and cameras are set up. You notice a few Hollywood Stars, like Dakota Johnson from 50 Shades of Grey, Lil Nas X, who stopped to say hello to Namjoon, and even Kate Capshaw with Steven Speilberg.

You had lived in Los Angeles long enough to conduct yourself properly around the Hollywood Stars and not embarrass yourself or the name of BTS.

Soon, it was time for the interviews. Thankfully, most of the questions were geared toward Namjoon. The random few that were asked of you could be answered simply. Some interviewers made you laugh, while others were more serious, and Namjoon would step in and take over if they got too pushy or personal.

You were concentrating on the cameras and the questions so much that you missed how Namjoon’s attention was on you any time you spoke up. His pride in your strength to not waver or fumble your words was amazing. 

You were perfect. 

You were his angel.

The eternity you felt in the Red Carpet turned out to only be about 45 minutes.

“Well, that went smoother than what I thought. It’s not so bad and kinda easy now that I look back on it,” you comment once inside the Gala.

However, the groan and the headbutt on your shoulder contradicted your feelings, “Namjoon? Are you okay?”

Holding on to your shoulders with his nose at the nape of your neck, Namjoon breathes in your sweet pea scent laced with god knows how many emotions. His Alpha is back to clawing his way forward, wanting to get your scent to stabilize.

“Namjoon?”

“Hello, is everything okay?” A woman’s voice asks. Looking up, you see it is none other than Jennie from BlackPink.

“안녕하세요, Jennie-ssi. Umm.. I think everything is okay but umm,” you look over your shoulder as best as possible, only to be met with a deep growl. “Okay, maybe everything is not okay.”

“Your Y/n, right? The new Playmate for Bangtan pack?” 

“Yes, I am. My word travels fast,” you smile and attempt to bow in greeting again to be growled at by the Prime Alpha at your neck. 

“Miss Y/n, I don’t know if you know this, but I am a Siamese Hybrid and your Alpha is not happy with your unsettled scent… I think,” she states with a look of concern.

“Oh! Well, I don’t have a good handle on my scent. Umm.. Do you know if they have hybrid rooms for situations like this?”

“Yes! They do… umm, hold on,” she says as she walks over to another man, and they talk in rapid Korean. 

Soon, they both return to where you are, but now Namjoon has decided to band his arm around your waist, keeping you closer than before.

“Hello, I am Lee Jung Jae, human, but I know where the rooms are. Please come with us. We already told Jennie-ah’s manager to let Namjoon-ah manager know where you two are going,” the man says.

Following them down the hall and around a corner, you see a few rooms labeled “Hybrid only.” 

“Oh, 감사합니다 선생님! Thank you for all your help,” you smile, hoping they will excuse you for not bowing.

Jennie holds the door open for you, “I haven’t seen him act like this since Jungkook-ah joined the pack. It’s a good thing, you don’t have anything to worry about. Just take 5-10 minutes to relax and everything will be fine.”

Nodding in understanding, you shuffle the two of you into the dimly lit room. There is a desk with a chair and a small couch. Couch it is. 

“Alpha? Alpha, can we sit down, please?” you ask, moving toward the couch. 

You feel Namjoon move his head, hoping he is looking around the room. When he still doesn’t verbally respond, you try another tactic. 

“Alpha, my feet are hurting. Can we please sit together on the couch?”

That works.

Before you finish the sentence, Namjoon pulls you to the couch. Taking a seat, he grabs at your hips and sits you down on his lap. His arms curl around you, and his eyes, now a lovely forest green, observe your expressions.

“Hello, Alpha Joon. Are you going to be alright?” you ask while casting your eyes downward. You remembered something about eye contact and wolves not being an intelligent thing to do.

“Your scent is everywhere,” Alpha Joon replies, which shocks you since it's not the stilted speech you have heard from Alpha Yoon and Alpha Chim.

“Oh, well, yes. I suppose it is because this is a new experience for me,” you smile as you remember the reassuring touches from Namjoon during the whole thing. “Alpha was very helpful in keeping me safe and not panicking. Thank you for your attention Alpha Joon.”

The compliment pulls a smile from the wolf hybrid, “It’s my job as Prime Alpha. Need to calm your scent. Sweet pea. Angel’s sweet pea.”

Adjusting how you sit on his lap, Alpha Joon gips on tighter, but you smile and move a little bit more, allowing you to lean against the arm of the couch while still leaning on his chest.

“I should be fine soon, Alpha Joon. I actually enjoyed walking the carpet with you.”

“Too many were watching you. Lots of people were flirting with you and with what you shared earlier… I guess my Alpha was just in protection mode or something,” he grumbles, resting his head on yours.

“Oh, you are silly, Alpha. They are just doing their jobs. You saved me when it got uncomfortable, but everything is fine now. We just get to enjoy dancing and stuff now.”

The room is silent when you feel a large puff of air on your head, “Sorry about that, Angel. My Alpha has been trying to front since the observatory. I guess your mixture of emotions was too much,” the wolf hybrid says.

You tilt your head to see his eyes return to their darker brown color, “No worries, Namjoon. I am just glad that Jennie-ssi and Jung Jae-ssi were around to help find this room,” you smile at him, still looking between his eyes. “Your Alpha’s eyes are pretty, by the way.”

“Thank you. The green is a rare color but the pack says it makes sense because it takes a rare breed to be a Prime Alpha.”

“I would agree with them. Your Alpha also has better speech than the others so far.”

“Ah yes, that is also part of why I am the Prime Alpha. It allows for me to be understood in order to protect my pack.”

“Make sense. Now, do you think you are ready to head back out? I am sure Manager Sejin is worried by now.”

“I am, if you are or we could just go home… if you wanted to?”

“I would like to stay. I haven’t been to a Gala with a dance floor in a while and it looks like fun.”

Now that you didn’t have a leeched on Alpha, walking inside the venue was like walking into a fairytale. Beautiful works of art were tastefully displayed everywhere you looked. 

Those attending looked like they walked off the catwalk from New York or Milan’s fashion week. Quietly, you thank whatever powers that be granted you the talented team to make you look like you might be able to fit in with this elegant crowd. 

Before taking a seat, you were able to spot Jennie and Jung Jae, give them a quick thumbs up, and say thank you again for all their help. 

The evening's events started with Michal Govan and Eva Chow’s speeches about LACMA and why we were all here. They were followed by tributes to Amy Sherald, Kehinde Wiley, and even Steven Speilberg. A short film by someone you had never heard of but now were interested in was shown. 

Next came the dinner. 

Shit dinner! 

How would you avoid being rude and eat the food without knowing what was in it? Gourmet meals at these high-flaunting Shindigz never look like what they are made of.

As if sensing your internal panic, Namjoon squeezes his hand over yours. You glance up at him, your concern showing in your eyes, but before you can say anything, he leans over and says, “Are you worried about the meal?”

Nodding you, lick your lips, trying to figure out how to explain to Namjoon how you could… could… maybe hide in that room again til dinner was over?

Watching your tongue wet your lip, Namjoon smiles at the nervous habit you share with a particular mate. “It’s okay, angel. The seats are assigned, and they know your restrictions.”

Instant relief comes from his words. You should have known. They have told you many times that they will take care of you. He has told you that he will take care of you. 

Maybe it’s time to start believing them.

Smiling brightly at the Prime Alpha, you turn over your hand and lock your fingers with his. You hope this conveys gratitude for the precautions and attentiveness during such a grand event. 

Namjoon's eyes widen at your movement, now focused on your intertwined hands. His mate is holding his hand, not out of need but because his new mate wants to. 

At that point, a strong wave of vanilla comes over the Prime Alpha, the mate bond. It’s forming between the two of you. He can feel the pull now. He didn’t destroy the bond before it got a chance to start with his proposition. 

He may be known as the God of Destruction; however, when it comes to his mates and you, he will never allow any breaks.

The rest of the program was relatively interesting but boring. There were performances and more tributes, but once that was over… the party was on!

A famous DJ took over for the small, formal orchestra-like band that had been playing in the background. He played music from all around the world. 

Namjoon danced with you as best he could. That man almost had two left feet, which caused you to laugh never-endingly.

“How?!? Namjoon! How can you be so bad at dancing?”

“I can dance! I have only stepped on you twice and that was because you were doing some kinda fancy thing that I hadn’t seen,” he huffed but still danced along with you until you abruptly stopped in your tracks.

“Hey, you almost got stepped on agai…” Namjoon stops talking and takes in your wide eyes and blushing(?) face. 

You aren’t looking at him; you are looking past him. Turning around to see what you are looking at, he sees nothing but other guests. Looking back at you again, he notes that you are watching something or someone moving. Trying to track what you see, it hits him… Lee Min Ho. You are watching Lee Min Ho.

Stepping behind you, placing his hands on your hips, Namjoon leans into your ear, “Should I be jealous that your eyes are on another man? Not only that but Tae-ah’s good friend Lee Min Ho?”

You snap your attention back to Namjoon, “Friends? You know Mr. Lee? Wait… jealous?”

Chuckling to himself, Namjoon looks back at the famous Korean Actor and whistles, catching his attention. A smile blooms on Min Ho’s face at seeing Namjoon, and heads towards the two of you.

“Namjooooonnn! Why did you do that?” you harshing whisper through your own toothy smile. 

Whispering in your ear again, “I thought you would want to say hi to someone you clearly know of.”

“Min Ho-hyung! I didn’t know you were going to be here tonight. It’s good to see you. How is the pack search going?” Namjoon greets the stunning actor with a hearty handshake-guy hug thing. 

You move out of the way, and your brain is awed to see him up close. You can handle Hollywood stars because they are everywhere, but foreign stars… that is a whole different thing because they don’t come here often. 

You accidentally watched him film a little for his show The Inheritors back in 2012 or something. That is when you first noticed him, but since most of his stuff was on streaming channels you had to pay for, you didn’t watch many things until recently.

Namjoon noticed your movements but continued to speak with his friend to let you relax or fangirl out. 

“Joon-ah, may I ask who this lovely creature is?” Min Ho asks, turning his attention to you.

With a prideful smile, Namjoon introduces you, “This angel, is Y/n. She has graced me as my date for the Gala tonight.”

Attempting your best to maintain professionalism, you smile and respectfully bow, “만나서 반갑습니다, 선생님.”

“Oh, you speak Korean?” Min Ho says with a shock, “Joon-ah you did find a gem for tonight. Tell me, Y/n, how does it feel to dance the night away with this clumsy wolf?”

“Yah! I am not that bad,” exclaims Namjoon.

You giggle out, “It’s not bad. He keeps shying away from the classic dances with too much footwork but then again I think my feet are grateful for that.”

“I am not shying away from classical dances. I just don’t know much about ballroom forms. Besides, the band is there to give the DJ and guests breaks from dancing like we are now. That’s all,” Namjoon defends himself. 

“Guest breaks? And here I thought I was the oldest one,” you tease.

“You ballroom dance, Y/n?” asks Min Ho. 

Looking at the actor, you can’t tell if he is asking because he doesn’t think someone of your size can ballroom dance, or he is honestly curious.

“Yes, Mr. Lee. I have been trained in multiple ballroom dance techniques, but I prefer to compete in either a classic Waltz, Salsa, or Tango. " Your face sets into a defensive mask. “I wouldn’t expect anyone to guess that. Besides, it's not like those dances are very popular anymore.”

A look you are not sure of what it means flows over his face. “Joon-ah, you know it is rude to deny a lady her request to dance. Since you won’t be joining her, I will,” he says, stepping closer to you. He bows.

“Miss Y/n, I would very much like to have this dance with you,” he asks.

You stand there shocked, your mind trying to grapple with the fact that A)Lee Min Ho just asked you to dance, B)Namjoon is right there, and C) LEE MIN HO just asked you to DANCE!

Before you can accept or deny the request, the band starts up with a piece you recognize as Underground Tango by Goran Bregovic. The actor takes your hand, pulling you to the center of the floor.

“Mr. Lee. Mr. Lee, I..” you try to say before he pulls you into the classic Tango hold.

Bending down to your ear, he says, “Namjoon is a little slow when it comes to taking what he wants. Dance with me but watch him. Let’s see how long it takes before your Alpha fronts.”

You glance at Namjoon and see that he is, of course, watching you. You're his date, so why wouldn’t he? 

“Shall we?” Min Ho asks before he takes the first step into the dance. 

Your eyes automatically return to Min Ho’s, and your body falls into the dance like it was meant to be there. 

The Tango is an intimate dance with constant body contact and wordless communication between the dancers. It requires concentration to perform well, and at this highly publicized Gala, you don’t want to look like a fool. 

It was surprisingly easy to follow Min Ho’s lead. He kept his hands in proper and respectful placements, showed respect with his movements, and played up the sensuality of it all with his facial expressions. 

You maintained proper eye contact with Min Ho and followed the energy of the dance by adding flourishes to your movements and the flicks of your dress. Pretty soon, it felt like old times: just you and your dance partner on the floor, with the music acting as your lifeblood. 

In one turn, Min Ho brought you back into his hold but placed your back in his front, which, in the proper hold, pressed the two of you together. That’s when you hear a soft chuckle.

Glancing up at Min Ho, he tilts his head toward the audience, causing you to follow his gaze. You would have frozen in place if it hadn’t been for the years of training and Min Ho’s stronghold on your body.

No longer was Namjoon standing and watching you dance with his friend – It was Alpha Joon.

The forest green eyes are watching you like a predator watches his prey. Flicking all over your body, they sear heat into your skin as they trace all your contact points with the actor. 

“If I could wager anything, I would think your Alpha doesn’t like you being touched by me right now. Possessive much?” Min Ho says quietly.  “Let’s finish this with a show.”

Min Ho spins you around without warning and takes you into a dip. As he dips deeper, you cling to the actor, afraid to be dropped. Trailing his nose along your neck to your shoulder. His hand is securing your lifted leg through the slit at his hip. 

As the music dies, he pulls you up and stands you nose to nose. Your heart is pounding, not because Lee Min Ho looks like he will kiss you. No no. It’s because Lee Min Ho looks like he is going to kiss you, and Alpha Joon is somewhere seeing the same thing. 

A coy smile plays on his lips as he glances behind you, “I have a feeling you may be going home early, but still, enjoy the rest of your night, Y/n.”

Next thing you know, strong hands grip your waist, and a low growl rumbles through you. Your breath is stolen, and your body is not only thrumming from the dance but now from the Alpha at your back. 

Min Ho steps back, looking Namjoon in the eyes. He says, “Hello, Alpha Joon. Thank you for granting me the opportunity to dance with your date; she was divine.”

“Mine,” a deep, gravelly voice comes from the wolf Hybrid. 

“Is she?” asks Min Ho, his eyes flashing yellowish. “My Alpha thinks she is unmarked.”

“Your Alpha? You’re a hybrid?” You are shocked to hear this as you really take in the man before you, but you do not see any hybrid features.

“Alpha Bobcat hybrid. You didn’t think I was this graceful by being just any human, did you? Couldn’t you feel my athletic but lithe build while we were dancing so closely?” 

Min Ho’s eyes wander up and down your form. A look of something passes over his face when Namjoon’s grip tightens, and the growl grows louder. Putting his hands up, Min Ho steps back farther.

“Alpha Joon, I don’t want to push or pry. I only meant to allow your date a moment of fun. I will respect your claim on her… for now,” the actor says, his face turning into a mask of friendliness that does not meet his eyes.

Without looking at you, he says, “ Y/n, please tell Tae-ah he needs to give me a call. It was an honor to dance with you this evening.”

With that, he turns and disappears into the crowd. However, you want to disappear into the crowd but cannot because you have a Prime Alpha at your back with a death grip.

Glancing around, you are at least relieved to see that it is mainly hybrids watching with worried looks on their faces, but no one has responded or reacted like anything is out of the ordinary. 

This may be something normal for Alphas.

Running through all the things you could do next to get away from the dance floor, you think more about the fact that you didn’t know Min Ho was a hybrid and Namjoon is unhappy.

Instinctively, you should be scared, and you are… right? 

Or are you excited? 

It’s just adrenaline. That’s what it is; you attempt to convince yourself until you shift your weight and feel the so very telling dampness between your legs. 

Why?

Why are you, now of all times, turned on?

It isn’t from the dancing; you would have noticed that with all the movements. Here you go again, getting turned on by a mated man: his possessiveness, his Alphaness, the body-consuming growls. 

“Sweet pea, bergamot, and sugar,” Alpha Joon says as he takes a deep breath. “Min Ho left none. Good. Mine.”

“Alpha Joon, umm, should you be fronting right now at the Gala?” you ask softly.

“Fine, many hybrids are here,” he responds, rubbing his wrists along your sides and sending out calming scents to you. “Bergamot means scared. Nothing to scare from, my Angel.”

“Can we talk about this somewhere else, please?” you ask. Stepping out of his hold and quickly facing him. “Scenting in public won’t look good for your pack, Prime Alpha.”

His forest green eyes narrow at you. The look is calculating. Dropping his hands to his sides, the Alpha hybrid steps forward and cautiously asks, “Scenting is accepted, but not here?”

You smile at his tone and respond, “Yes, Alpha Joon. You may scent me, but please remember I am still getting used to this.” 

Reaching for his hand, you step into his personal space, “Alpha Joon, can we head home now? You can scent me in the car, if you’d like.”

His green eyes shine like emeralds, “I’d be honored, let’s go home.”

Previous / Next

Perminate Taglist - OPEN

@bethanysnow @braveangel777 @danielle143 @elliegrace1999 @reallysparklychaos @stylishhwa

Series Taglist - Closed

@nenefix-on @im-gemmy @fluffy-canada-pancakes @staytinyville @juju-227592 @levislifeline @carolinexkpop @m00njinnie @drenix004 @singukieee @avadakadabra93 @dazzlingjade @sehun096rainbow @sunshinecallie @seoullove96 @reallysparklychaos @tired7o7 @channiespup @cryingpages @kittycatkrissa @captain-joongz @roseidol @hecateslittlewitchling @ayoo-bangtan @someshinesomedont @cerulean1riz @butterfliesinthenightsky @kayways @elliegrace1999

[vyzz-undercover]

pspspsps dinner time everyone

[cato/f!ambassador] (1) (2)

(5,700ish words) (im cooked)

CONTENT WARNINGS:

•slight dubcon [again]

•hints of size kink

•intercourse [M/F]

•discussions of virginity

•vague breathplay

•even more negligible aftercare

•degrading language

•mild possessive behaviour

•tumblr's pisspoor formatting as per last time

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im once again doing a free magic show here and pulling a rabbit (this fic) out my ass. so, without further a-do the tagging... @kit-williams, @passionofthesith, @pluvio-tea, @the-raven-lady, @bispecsual, @egrets-not-regrets, @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan, @lemon-russ. let me know if anyone else wanna be tagged if i do a part three HAHAHAHHAHA i might double down on the comedy-of-errors and have Guilliman get involved. Not like a three-way with this particular fic, even if I'd love to slut papa smurf out. There's always another time and another chance to sexualise an old man :3

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Cato finds you relatively easily.

Truthfully, you make no actual sport of it. But he's never going to pass up a cheap bit of entertainment at your expense.

At this time of the ship's cycle you're most likely to be in the east wing, pointedly the lower libraries. He knows this. He won't confess why or how he knows, though—so, fuck off.

You're lazy and predictable. To say nothing of the fact you're far too comfortable scuttling about his Father's vessel. If a hypothetical assassin ever could get onto the ship without being stomped into paste by him immediately, they'd have no problems tracking you down. You may as well be a sevitor running on rails for all your movements stay the same.

He notes you're not on the first level.

Nor the second.

You are on the third, in the leftmost quadrant.

In the restricted reading area.

You do have clearance—but the fact still irks him. Typically, this was for his more decorated brothers to catalogue Xenos. Typically, one needed to be accompanied to even access this level.

But oh, no—no, you're allowed.

You're allowed because you are a damnable leach of a woman. And also the bane of his existence, did he mention that? And you're—you're—tucked up in secure side-room, reading on a data-slate; half-asleep in a little blue robe and looking the pict of adorable sloth.

You don't notice him immediately.

Clearly too absorbed in your gerrymandering-for-servitors cheat-sheet.

And that annoys him even more.

Because, are you really that obtuse? So unassailable in your own mind that you're this blatantly fucking oblivious? He's an Astartes, damn it. Sure, he's in casual rest attire instead of clanking plate—but he's a large, two-and-a-bit meter tall trans-human war-machine standing in the doorway—and you haven't even noticed him. Ignorant like some little rodent chewing away at crumbs in it's hovel.

His Father's got a vermin problem on board, and the mice are stupid and bold and literate... along with rather cozy, apparently.

A finely woven navy throw is swaddled around you where you're lying on the chaise lounge. And the sight of you bundled up inspires a vivid déjà-vu of the last time you were alone with him with little more than a blanket over you.

Cato hesitates for a heartbeat, swallows down the sudden lump in his throat and sets his jaw.

He steps into the room and waves a hand over the laser-pad locking mechanism.

There's a fractional second in which you become cognisant to the sound of the shutter door closing and where you actively notice him.

Then there's a shrill scream as if you've pinched a nerve.

The data-slate goes flying, pelted at his head. But it hits the shutter door and clatters to the floor, far-off any hint of a good mark.

Useless woman.

Realising it's him a moment later, you heave out a racketing sigh.

"Throne of Terra, Ca—" you start, and it sounds like you're going to say his first name before you rightly correct yourself and say, "C-Commander, you scared me half to death."

He immediately sets about accosting you, "Have you been sitting here with the door open this whole time?"

"No," you nip out.

"You are aware that I can tell when you're lying?"

"I'm certain you can," your tone flattens in a way he's only ever heard you talk to particularly sleazy representatives with. It's not an honest exchange, it's double-speak. It's mocking. You're mocking him.

He grits his teeth.

You've grown more open in your defiance towards him as of late, certainly not because of any revelation or reason and it rubs him in a dangerous, new way. He's not about to let it slide, either.

"Is that so?" His words are sharp and accusative and he hopes—he hopes he'll get the delight of watching you cower like you usually do when confronted by him. "Have you been lying to me often, then?"

Half his hopes come true. You look away nervously and mumble something almost inaudibly, and he'd not have noticed if not for his far superior hearing.

It was, "...maybe," and all Cato can help but do being himself, is detonate.

"And what have you been deceiving me of, you scheming little whore?" He snarls, fuming—a dozen crimes and sins crowding his mind you might be tried for. Maybe he's been far too lenient to the actual reality of your evil. Finally, validation to corroborate his deviation—maybe you'll admit you're some Slanneshi fleshchanger, and that you intended to have burrowed so deep in his mind.

Nonetheless, you're nowhere near even close to fast enough to defend yourself. But it's not like he gives you the chance.

He's crossed the distance with a practiced speed. And quicker than you can even yelp, you are pinned to the lounge—a shackle in the form of his fist around your smaller throat.

The pressure is a limp handshake by his standards. You're not really choking. Just stifled slightly for good measure.

Still, it'd be a mere flex to break your neck. He could snap you like a stylus with what was to him, ultimately, nothing but a simple twitch of his fingers. And he would think more about the blatant contrasts between you both much longer if he wasn't far too distracted by the fact you even struggle prettily wantonly. Big eyes wide and glossy with animal panic. Involuntary tears gather at the corners as you register what's going on at last. The mad temptation to lick them if they so much as dare trail down your cheeks begins eating at him.

Some rational part of his rational mind reminds him he can't get the truth out of you when he's vaguely throttling you, though—and he lets you go begrudgingly. Instead opting for looming over you as you roll sidelong on the couch, breathing fast.

He crouches down to your level and grumbles, still absorbed in his raging.

"Speak," he barks, and pointedly grabs you by the chin.

"I–I hadn't actually—" you start, breathless as you mumble. "Actually, uh, laid with anyone, even though I nodded I sort of... had."

He's staggered at the statement, "...that's it?"

A vague lie of omission, but it's not the great corruption he sought to root out.

Then he actually thinks about what you've just admitted.

Like fog banished under a rising sun, his anger at the thought of treachery immediately dissipates into blistering revelation.

"Hold on, you..." Cato starts, baffled and completely knocked for a six, meeting your gaze slowly—genuinely stunned as he pulls his hand back fully. "I... I was the first?"

You look away cursorily, face reddening not only with your previous strains, but with embarrassment.

Now, that was the reaction of a guilty conscience.

Cato doesn't know what to do with the information. Nor does he really know what he feels.

He'd been the first. He feels like he's won something over his brothers. Therefore, fuck the lot of them—and fuck Titus, specifically. Even if he's not sure why. He truly couldn't believe it. There's success, sure—but then there's taking the laurels: whole and absolute. And this... this is exactly that. But oh, for some apparently vestal thing, you'd let him bully down to the hilt in your tight cunt; whining like a whore when he spilled himself inside you. Throne, it was almost suffocating to think back on it now. So willing to have your maidenhead taken, nevermind the fact you weren't the only one who'd had a new experience that day. But you didn't need to know that.

"Another notch to my mantel of victories then," he ultimately decides is the best thing to say, gloating to himself.

"Unbelievable," you sigh softly as you shakily sit yourself up.

But there's the problem again. The one tangible, constant problem with having laid you. It's made you mouthy. He only ever glimpsed your boldness when you interacted with other baselines in the past. You never sassed Astartes, or at least, he's never seen you do it. But now that stubbornness and unwillingness to back down in a political forum is on full display heedless of situation. As if you've suddenly become one of the auto-felating Imperial Fists—or any of Dorn's insufferable ball-busting scions, really. Worst of all, it's only managed to somehow make him even more enthralled annoyed with you than usual. You're still too good at quashing your anger, hard as it is to rouse. But he loves loathes that you bite the lure instead of shying off now.

"To think that I was the first—is your entire professional role not centred around charm? Would no one else have you with that rotten attitude you've been hiding?" he says, knowing he's being nasty, knowing he's twisting the knife; and absolutely praying for you to fall for it.

Cato watches a rainbow of emotions pass over your features, before you settle on one that makes you look like you ate something sour. He's hit a weak spot. But the sentiment holds true. His Primarch thinks you the best and brightest to sway planets? You couldn't even seduce some daft, drunken aristocratic fool to fuck you.

You, the prettiest baseline he's ever seen.

...maybe Guilliman is right in saying the Imperium has rolled belly-up with bloat.

"That's not—that's not why and you know it," you open your mouth and jumble your words briefly before getting out, "Do you have any idea how hard it is to find someone who won't have a panic attack because of the several Astartes that insist on following you around?" You continue, raving and flustered, "Do you think anyone would get near me with you—or—or... maybe Captain Acheran, or the good Chaplain, let's say, breathing over my shoulder?"

"You should be grateful any of us waste our time babysitting you," Cato oafishly shoots back like a petulant child, brows furrowing, "You should be thanking me for doing the brunt of it."

Your nose scrunches up, "Pardon me, Commander, it's surely entirely my fault that we are both at the whims of our Lord Primarch."

He pauses.

Something about this interaction isn't stirring his temper like it should.

He should be absolutely livid with anger, or at the very least blowing your eardrums out with a 'shut the fuck up,' at full Astartesian line-command volume.

Yes, he should be seething, and yet he's not. To his surprise, he's actually feeling more enthused than anything.

This feels... exciting, almost.

"You've only grown the backbone to talk back to me because I fucked one into you," he remarks sharply in reply.

You sputter, and go red, robbed of your words.

"Or maybe this is mere performance," He adds with a sneer, tipping his chin up proudly.

You roll your eyes and let out a dramatic puff of air, "Y-You're such a..." you start, but your voice tapers off—and you look away, pouting.

"I'm a... what?" He taunts, leaning close.

You grumble, apparently feeling brave again; meeting his gaze and puffing yourself up.

"You're a bully," you hiss, clearly upset but undeniably frazzled enough to be somewhat ranting again as you add, "A bully w-who's so disgustingly egotistical you've convinced yourself you're some great conqueror or... something... j-just for having been in me, as if I've never put anything in myself before."

Oh, but wait, Cato likes the idea of that. He likes it so much he completely forgets to acknowledge the insults in your statement prior. He likes the idea of you suffering like he had been—alone, yearning—aching for something you didn't know the dizzying reality of. He can imagine you smothering your sounds, those blessed whines he's got memorised, into a pillow in that cushy little quarters of yours, squirming on your meagre fingers, or maybe cold silicon. You didn't need that lesser imitation now. Cato'd gladly fill that role. He'd glad to fill that hole, too.

Nonetheless, he immediately wonders who you were getting off thinking about.

He'd streak the length of the ship for it to've been him you'd been fucking yourself over.

"Who were you thinking of?"

You blink at the completely offhanded question, then start sputtering, stalling.

"What? I-I—" you stammer, "That's not important or relevant—I just... did it, it's—"

"Keep lying and see where it gets you," He cuts in, raking you with an aggravated frown, and oh, excellent, you're starting to relearn he's not fond of your half-truthing, finally.

You duck your head a little, cringing under his gaze, trying to scoot yourself backwards. But there's nowhere to go.

Cato realises belatedly that in the middle of your antics, the sleeve of your robe has started to fall from your shoulder. His brain short-circuits momentarily with the sheer amount of air that floods his head. Your warm, soft skin on display just for him. He didn't get to see all of you last time. He felt a good portion of you, yes—but he didn't get the chance to admire acknowledge the whole vista. Not because he was too desperate to rut against to try. Or because he was probably going to swoon like a fool if he did. Shut up, he's no coward. Afterall, his hands had been close to your chest, but now—now he can actually look.

He's going to absolutely ruin that lovely canvas you've given him.

"Nobody," you say softly.

"Groxshit," he snaps.

"Fine—" You swallow and start scrambling for a response, "Malum C-Caedo."

Cato genuinely cannot help but bark a laugh at that, "Spare me, you haven't even met the man, moron—you're only saying that because your most recent reading was on his last briefing," he rolls his eyes. "You forgot I was there with Guilliman when you were given it."

You look at him like a cornered little mouse, and finally—finally, your sleeve falls just enough that he's given a perfect view of one of your tits.

"You already..." you grumble softly. "You already know who, then, so I shouldn't even have to dignify this."

"It's me, isn't it?" He asks darkly, and while he tries to sound haughty, the fact he's thrilled by both the notion and the sight of your partial nudity ends up warping his tone into a vaguely manic chuff.

You glance aside and stammer loudly, "N-No."

No, you say—but he hears your little heart flutter. And sees your pupils dilate.

"I hope you're aware you can't lie to save your life," Cato drawls.

Your gaze snaps back to his, and for a brief second, your expression is flushed with embarrassment; until it changes to a sour little scowl.

"I'm not a bad liar, you're just an Astartes—" you start furiously, but check your flustered anger.

Cato smirks.

It's not a completely clean victory, but it's good.

It means his own lusting madness is at least reciprocally vindicated.

And at that realisation, Cato's impulse control violently loses balance; and he's painfully aware he cannot, for the life of him, contain the hungered almost purr-like sound that crawls up his throat.

You go back to looking transfixed at that, and he pauses.

There's something... pulling him in even more than before. He feels as if he's taken the bait, and the hook, and the line and sinker—hell, he's taken a good bit of the rod, too. Everything's a little too heated, and he's got an innate, intuitive feeling you're just as wound up as he is—wait. He breathes in deep and slow, and scents the air. Throne, he may as well have been cold-clocked at the temple by a Dreadnaut for all the innate information he suddenly receives. You're quite frankly drenched in want. You're getting off on this. Smothering him in a dizzying biological chant of hormones that scream—fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.

He leans close, and puts a hand on the arm-rest; the other palm slowly moving towards your chest.

Your eyes follow it—but you voice no complaints nor rejections.

Justified now, he's ecstatic. And your skin is as perfect to the touch as he remembers.

His hand looks huge compared to the breast cupped in it, idly toying with the consistency of the flesh in his grasp. It's much softer and malleable than he thought it'd be. Almost like a water-skin. Thumb depressing your right nipple, before drawing a thoughtless circle.

You sigh lightly and relax a bit, and Cato takes that as another open invitation.

He uses the same hand to tug away the fabric from your other shoulder.

Quick as anything, he's practically stuffing his face against you without any real warning, ignoring your flinch at his haste. Cato's letting the urges he'd withheld in that wretched shack out. And it's so worth the wait. He groans, licks a fat band over your left breast, and worries at the perked little bud with his teeth until you're squirming; only to drag his attention up to nip at your fragile throat.

You're breathing hard, and you open your mouth as if about to speak—but ever spiteful, Cato rewards your attempt with the drag of his tongue and the press of his teeth; and that promptly shuts you up. The faint salt on your skin isn't half bad of a thing either, honestly. He rather likes it. It tastes like how you smell—and he's absolutely luxuriating in it. It makes it all the easier to map your chest from the curve of your breast to your collarbones, garnishing you with eager drags of his tongue and mouth-wrought bruises.

And now you're glorious. The marks on your skin are vivid—he's guaranteed you won't be wearing anything showy for a good while. No lovely vile plunging necklines for you to display to bastard dignitaries. Not unless you want to explain why they're Cato Sicarius sized. They'll also be a good reminder to you of exactly who's superior.

You're still too dazed by his efforts to realise the extent of his actions, but he knows exactly how hot and bothered it's made you. That honeyed reek of arousal is driving him insane.

Urged on, he digs a hand down and around your back and drags you off the lounge. Manoeuvring to turn so his back rests against the lip of the lounge, nigh dumping you before him on the rug.

"W-Why...?" You blink, stunned for a second before righting yourself and meeting his eyes. Cato's sat himself cross-legged, before letting them unfold, one tenting and the other splaying out.

"I did all the work last time," he starts impatiently, and leans up to grab you by the forearm; bringing your hand close close to the cradle of his hips, "Now it's your turn to do something for once."

...Cato's not sure you're actually listening, because he could've bet his helm you'd've become irate at statement that if you were. That, and you're glaring between his thighs.

Ironically, he also almost instantaneously finds he doesn't really care to continue the train of thought. Not when you trace the engorged bulge of him through the folds of his tunic. Groping at the base, before smoothing your palm to the rounded tip.

There's no accursed buttons between him and the open this time, thankfully—and that means he can simply tug aside the folds of his layered tunic and bare himself from the belly down.

His cock lays fat and heavy with blood, smearing precum as it moves from his navel to leftward on his hip when he straightens up.

You're staring.

He scoffs at your apprehension and says, "Alternatively, perhaps you can—"

A soft, "Shhh," leaves you.

He snorts like a big, angry stock horse, brow raised. No baseline, regardless of rank, would dare treat Cato like this; none would dare even think to treat to him like this. Except you now, apparently. You forget your station, your place. Making demands of an Astartes is nowhere near your clearance. Your best option is to implore, not command. Yours is to nod your pretty thick head and smile your fair rotten little smile and obey your betters.

"Did—did you just shush me, woman?" Cato's nigh instantly consumed by a rush of anger at the sheer audacity, sneering. "In what reality do you think you've any right to shush me? I'm Commander of the Victrix Honor Guard, Grand Duke of Talassar and High Suzerain of—"

Of... of something.

Suddenly your insolence is inconsequential to him. All that matters is the smooth glide of your dainty hand on his cock, and the sight of your thumb and pointer being unable to wrap around and meet given how thick he is.

You look up at him slowly for a second, before your focus returns to apparently sussing out how best to saddle him. It's a timid gesture, like you're anticipating overstepping—you're cautious.

He's about to remind you of the fact you've taken him before, so Cato's proven he fits and all this coyness of yours is arbitrary. But he guesses the point is moot when you're suddenly already stradling his hips.

With one small hand finding a place on his stomach, and the other holding his cock straight beneath the obscurity of your garbs, he feels you lower yourself enough to make contact; testing before offering a little more urgency.

With an agonisingly careful roll of your pelvis, the head of his cock catches against the soft ring of muscle at your entrance for a second.

He grumbles despite himself.

He can't watch his cock sink into you like last time thanks to the curtain of your robe, but at least he can certainly feel every millimeter of it happening.

Tight heat feels like a death shroud over his mind as he draws a blank on anything else.

And finally—finally he's stuffed down to the hilt—and oh, he's filled you to your end just like the last time. Throne, he's drunk off the spongy heat the thick head of cock is squared right up against.

This position's made your cunt just that bit shorter inside thanks to gravity.

You whimper, clearly trying desperately not to start shaking.

You start shaking anyways.

He's fascinated by the small, restless palms now pressed flat and trying to find a counterpoint on his broad, tunic'd chest. Soft and un-calloused aside from the small bump of a pen's rest on your writing hand. Everything about you is warm and soft. Inside and out, you're all his.

He exhales harshly through his nose and blinks, gaze shifting from your hands to your tits, then to your face.

You wear an even more flushed expression now, overwhelmed, with all your focus on him.

Right where it always should be.

"Hurry up," he grunts sharply.

You swallow hard, and promptly drop your gaze.

You, surprisingly, manage to lift yourself up despite your theatrics. And, little by little, he watches you strain up until just the tip of him is still buried in you.

Angling yourself, you keen, carefully sinking back down on his cock and reeling at the stretch again as you settle, ass meeting his dense quads with a soft plomf.

He can see you biting back a moan, pointless as the act is.

"Keep going," Cato grits out, "I didn't tell you to stop."

You frown halfheartedly, and your insides clench around him despite yourself.

You start a slow rhythm, the noise of colliding skin on skin echoes in his ears. Slick friction, and fucked-out, half-stifled cries. Your pace quickening. Riding him. Using him at your own leisure, like the precious wretched little thing you are. You repeat the same dizzying motion again and again, and again—rising and sinking up, down, up, down; until it's clear you've found an angle that hits something just right, sending you over the edge with a rattling gasp.

A low groan crawls up the back of Cato's throat and slips free without restraint.

He's barely able to cope through the tight squeeze of your orgasm around his cock; but he steels himself, winning the fight to not spill in you right then and there at that. No small thanks to the furious couple hours he'd spent earlier in the simulated night cycle furiously attending his urges.

You stop suddenly, seated to the hilt, trembling and oversensitive—grinding back and forth, nails digging into his pectorals through his tunic.

"Just... n-need t'catch my breath..." You whimper, and that debauched tone wreaks havoc through his mind. An unceasing urge to pound you to tears overtaking what little sense he has left. It's the ravenous fact that you, the little parchment-pushing temptress, are all tuckered out from cumming on him so quickly. He's preening at the fact he feels that good to you—oh, he's going to send you limping back to your quarters.

He wants to watch you break.

"You lazy little cunt, you can't do a thing right, can you?" Cato groans, your thighs twitching as he lifts you by the hips and makes you sink back down.

He gets the treat of seeing your eyes swim back in your skull, dumb with sensation.

Lulled by the reedy, oversexed moans slipping from you with each motion; and he can't help but start thrusting up, matching pace.

"Hardly even four and a half minutes—and you're a mess, absolutely useless." He heaves, dropping you to full-hilt for a second to manoeuvre you better. You're nigh but a gasping dead-weight, delirious.

If you're going to act the entitled bitch, he'll screw you into something alike submission. Which is exactly why he's then pulling out, shoving you against the lounge on your back; and moving your thighs to bracket his hips as he half kneels on the rug. Just to slide himself back inside, balls-deep in willing flesh. The only dignity he affords you then is the space to wrap your arms around and behind his shoulders. Which you rightly do without demand.

Hold on, was the unspoken order.

Then he's fucking you into the lounge like his life depends on it. He's glad to notice it's bolted down, but the damned thing creaks—nonetheless, he can barely even hear it over the perfect sounds you're making.

Rolling his bottom lip between his teeth, barely holding back the noises that choke his own gullet.

"You're so damn lucky you're a nice tight hole," he rasps harshly, "That's all you're good for, hm? For me to fill?"

There's a gutting sort of beauty in the way you're looking up at him with open desperation. He's trying so hard not to fall victim to the siren call of it, but it's perfect vile and he can't help but fold. He'd kill for that look to never leave your face when your eyes fell on him.

"Fuck, I must be in your womb at this rate—would you like that? My load in your womb?" Cato says between a great lungful of air, only to start huffing madly to himself when you nod drunkenly. "Good, because that's exactly where i-it's going."

Mind reeling with every resounding sticky slap of his balls against you, paired with scorching wet slide of him pumping in and out of you. You're crying, all your sensibilities lost in the thorough pace he's ploughing into you with; trying to pull him in by tugging at his shoulders, but with your meagre strength it's merely a vague suggestion.

Still, he leans into it, if only to finally seize the chance to lap the tears off your cheek, and you sob; trying to turn nose to nose with him. Your pathetic pawing at his broad back only exacerbates the overwhelming urgency in his blood.

He's so close.

Bliss crests up like a tide inside him, building and building, stunned with how it makes him buck into you. He's dazed in a way he surely wasn't designed to be resilient against. He can't even shut his damn mouth to stop moaning—and only technically manages to do so when you cover it with your own the very second he's about to finish; your legs squeezing impotently down on his hips, trembling through another climax.

His nerves light up like an orbital barrage, body rocking against the pretty, willing thing below him that you are. He has no idea what's going on beyond that. Are you kissing him? Is that what you're doing? Half his brain is stunned by the idea and the other half is flooded by the rushes of pleasure in his system making his tendons cramp, ravaging him with the sound of his hearts thudding in his ears.

Working himself right into agony; he's tensing against you as he empties himself as deep as he can. His pace finally breaks pattern and staccatos as his mind leadens.

Lulled by the molten satisfaction that swamps him soon thereafter, Cato blindly tries to chase forward and keep your lips on his. Emphasis on tries. He thinks he likes it, foreign as the sensation and sentiment is. He's got his tongue in your mouth, but no real clue what to do beyond lapping further in like a man dying of thirst—and then, of course, you decide to start weakly thrashing for air, blunt teeth grazing against the invading muscle—so, with a miffed groan; he pulls away, drooling as he slumps front-long against you and the lounge with a rumbling sigh, letting his eyes close as he basks in the afterglow.

You're panting still, nosing against the nape of his neck—likely having difficulty respiring under his weight—but despite that, you're still twitching around his spent cock, just like last time.

Wistfully, he wonders if he could sleep with you stuffed full of him like this. Slotted together and absolutely buried in your cunt; reaming you out as far as your small frame will allow. He enjoys the idea of that, and of holding you close.

He listens meditatively as your breathing steadily evens out, a soft in-out rhythm he can hear start in your chest only to feel warmly dancing across his collarbone a moment later.

Your small hand glides up the back of his trapezoid and combs through the short hair at his crown.

He shivers almost immediately at the act, thoughts clouding. He doesn't know what he's supposed to do, now. He can't really bring himself to do anything. He's locked in. It's like he's been sedated, or scruffed about the neck. Then your fingers trace the bare skin behind his ear, and he snaps from the trance enough to crack an eye open to glance down.

"Don't push your luck," he bites out automatically and leers away.

You immediately stiffen, and lurch yourself back—seemingly completely confused.

He's not exactly sure why he reacted that way either, but he's certainly not going to address it.

Ultimately, he opts to pull his cock out of you with scant decorum rather than linger on the topic. Then he settles into a kneel as he eyes the soaked-in stain below the bunched-up fabric of your robe.

"Well," he snorts.

And damn, it's difficult to hold a straight face at the overdramatic, painfully oblivious pout you shoot him.

So, Cato just continues watching you with a cruel sort of satisfaction as you sit yourself up shakily, and realise the mess.

You blanch, promptly shutting your legs and fussing—your ass is half stuck to the fabric of the lounge by your own slick and his spent when you move to stand on shaky, unsure legs.

He's aware of the fact you're after something to wipe away the aftermath. But he's far too content observing you struggle for the moment. Pleased, even. Especially when he's treated to the cringing gasp that slips from you when his semen no doubt starts dripping down your thighs.

You're panicking within seconds. He can hear your heartbeat quickening, plus the acrid tang of baseline stress hormones pervading the room.

There's nothing to spare. Unless you want to leave another smear across the lounge cushioning, but he doubts you'd go so low. He, however, has no such reservations—and yanks the plush velour padded square up to wipe his cock off. It's not as if he wasn't going to toss it down one of the incinerator shafts on the library's second floor anyways.

"Do—" you begin softly, but amend yourself, "Would y-you have anything... to..."

He stares at you, brows furrowed.

Floundering now, you waddle close and swallow harshly.

"To... wipe this up?" You finish, barely a whisper. He can tell you're sour at the fact you're stroking his ego and essentially too full of him to go anywhere.

Cato scoffs, holding up the seating cushion, "What? Too spoilt to use this?"

You cringe at him, "People have sat on that—hundreds of people, probably. I-I don't have your immunity to infection."

Cato cedes on that point at least, because he assumes being a baseline is hell. And so very not his problem, too.

Completely out of left field, comes the temptation to lick you clean. His mulish hind-brain reasons it's a brilliant idea, namely because you'd likely be squirming for him again. Even if he has no real idea of what to do beyond that. Lap at your clit, probably—he's not actually done any of this before except—well, except just slamming into you. He has the basic gist of all of this from biologis graphics and pornographic motionpicts. Yes, the latter are technically contraband on Ultramarine chapter vessels—Throne, he actually remembers when that was put into force. He was still green behind the ears when that'd happened. But those specific brothers had displayed it for abstract amusement, not... it's intended purpose—rather: 'Lo, look at this curiosity, brothers! See they're fornicating, how very so strange! Baselines am-i-right?'

Honestly, it's never actually anything heretical, except for maybe the terrible acting.

He'd deem that punishable by death.

Regardless, Cato's guessing the process of licking something can't really be some sage art form. Not like duelling, and fuck, he's stellar at that. He's stellar at almost everything, he reasons. So why not that? You're such a wanton little thing he'd probably make you finish on accident.

Yet he decides against it as soon as the logical part of his brain boots back up. Largely given the fact he's probably already going to have a hard time as it is trying to avoid others on his way to mask the stink of sex. His brothers have keen noses, it wouldn't be difficult for them to notice the smell of you on his way to his chamber if he's not careful. Let alone if it's smeared all over his face. Next time, however—

"Surely it's not that bad," he says off-handedly.

A surge of shame appears on your face as a red, blotchy belt across your cheeks, and you seem about to protest before he grumbles.

"Still, you really ought to find a solution," he remarks idly, and he notices the implication isn't lost on you.

You frown softly, and wrinkle your nose at him.

"Maybe some manners would help you achieve your goals," he adds, with a clearer spite.

Your frown grows nigh comically harsh.

Cato grunts wryly, satisfied at your annoyance and paws at the hem of his tunic—tearing a portion off and holding it out to you.

You grab the edge of it and tug, but he doesn't let go.

"And what do you say?"

"Thanks," you answer hastily.

He raises an eyebrow and pulls the torn fabric back towards himself ever so slightly, causing you to over extend closer to him.

His stare stays locked on yours, and he gets the treat of watching you dither and fluster under his focus momentarily before you amend, "T-Thank you..." you swallow, and break eye contact, adding; "Commander Sicarius."

"Was that so hard?" Cato scoffs, especially thrilled as he lets go of the scrap—eyeing you as you trot aside, and gingerly begin to wipe away the mess of satisfaction coating your thighs and rear.

When you're decidedly done, you stomp back over to him and hold out the soiled fabric.

He reaches for it, only to have it promptly pulled away.

Cato scowls, and takes a step forward into your space—only for you to inch forward into his.

You're tormenting him then, he decides; or rather he thinks. He's not sure. You don't look smug—you look... nervous? Your lips have drawn into a thin line and you keep glancing between his eyes and behind him randomly.

"What?" He huffs, narrowing his eyes.

"Lean down," you mumble, then quietly make the additional effort of throwing in a "...please."

Cato grumbles at the request but complies, and Throne, he's glad he does; because suddenly you're up on your tip-toes, your hand on his jaw—and your lips are on his cheek.

He blinks, dumb as a mule. It's over as fast as it started and he can't even begin to unpack the elation he's abruptly feeling.

Heedless of his dazzled state, you clear your throat with a bashful laugh—and then the rag is suddenly stuffed into his open hand. He's still frozen there as you practically rush out the room, scooping your previously flung data-slate up as you frantically wave the door mechanism open and vanish from view.

A long wheeze escapes his throat in the empty room, his face thudding with heat.

Oh, he's fucked fucked.

[satorusugurugurl]

Til’ the Day that I Die (Chapter Four)

Summary: You’re a popstar in need of a bodyguard when you find yourself with a stalker. That’s how you meet Fushiguro Toji, you’re insanely hot bodyguard. Who knows how to push your buttons, and get you feeling flustered. Just how far is he willing to go to protect you? And how far would you go to protect him?

Pairing: Fushiguro Toji x AFAB!Reader

Warnings: mentions of death, grief, language, anxiety, stalking, some slight fluff

Word Count: 3.2K

A/N: fun fact—this was supposed to be five parts, its gonna be a bit long because this has taken a life of its own 😅💚

Part One Part Two Part Three

“Oh—” You whispered, stepping forward closer to the shrine. Incense was burning in front of a picture of a beautiful woman with black hair. A small mochi and vase with wildflowers sat beside her photo. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

”Thank you—”

Toji exhaled through his nose, ruffling the top of Megumi’s head as you approached the shrine, kneeling before it, closing your eyes as you bowed your head. Seeing you move so fast, dropping before his late wife's shrine, left Toji feeling both appreciative and sick to his stomach at the same time. Maybe part of It was because he still missed his sweet wife, or perhaps it was because he’s been so wrong about you.

“Thank you for welcoming me into your home, Mrs. Fushiguro.”

The sincerity behind your words felt like a knife in his stomach. Yeah, he had definitely misjudged you. He wished he could take back what he had told you earlier this night. But time didn't work like that. Toji assumed you were a spoiled rotten brat and blatantly said that to your face. There was no taking back those shitty assumptions.

But what he could do was make up for what he had said.

“She would have loved to have you. Wouldn't she squirt?” He asked, ruffling Megumi’s hair.

You glanced over your shoulder, watching Megumi grip his father's pants, nodding his head. A slight flush dusted his cheeks as you smiled sympathetically at him. It must have been hard losing his mother at such a young age; you couldn't even imagine what that must have been like. But Toji, you were in actual awe of him.

Not only did he work for a well-renowned security company, but he was also a single father. Balancing work, raising a child, and caring for a house must be hard as hell. A sudden respect for the mountain of the man blossomed in your chest as he stared at his son, lovingly stroking his hair back.

”I should probably get him to bed, then we can get you settled in, okay?”

You nodded in agreement, watching as he placed his hand on Megumi’s head, turning him to head down a hall. “Goodnight, Miss.” The little tyke said, waving at you, which had your heart squeezing in your chest as you waved back.

When they disappeared into a room, you pushed yourself off the ground, looking around the living; despite being a bit dusty, it was surprisingly well organized. You admired the different photos on bookcases, from Toji and Megumi to pictures of his late wife. As you looked at each photo, you grounded yourself, swallowing at a sadness lumping in your throat. In each photo of his wife, Megumi was a baby. There were no photos of her with him as a toddler or a child, meaning she probably passed before she could watch him grow. That sadness tugged at your heart, making breathing almost hard as you felt nothing but empathy for the family who’d so selflessly taken you in.

“She’s staying for a while?” Megumi asked softly as Toji lifted the sheets for him.

“Yep, you good with that kiddo? If you're not, I could call Shiu.”

“I don't mind—” Toji cocked a dark brow watching Megumi grab his white wolf plushie hugging it. “She’s pretty.”

Those words nearly sent Toji reeling back as he gawked at his son. “Pretty?” Megumi nodded, pursing his lips together as he shot his father a quick, curious glance. Thanks to Toji’s profession, he was a professional at reading people, and that talent extended to his son. “Yeah, she is. But Megumi, this is strictly professional, you know that, right?” When his son just stared at him, he signed. “There’s nothing between us, and I assure you there won't be.” The dismissive tone of Toji’s words left Megumi blinking.

“Why?”

“Because it’s unprofessional. It's my job to protect her.”

He pulled the sheets up to Megumi’s chin, tucking him in. “You know you don't have to worry about me.” Megumi rubbed his face into the plushie fur. “I wouldn't mind you seeing her.” Toji rolled his eyes, pushing Megumi’s bangs off his forehead and pressing a kiss there.

“She’s a client, kid.”

“So?”

How was it possible for a kid to be this intrusive? “Okay, that’s enough questions, go to sleep.” The floorboards creaked under Toji’s weight as he headed for the hall. “Night Megumi.”

“Night, Dad.”

Shutting the door to his son’s room, Toji was left alone in the hall's silence with his thoughts. He knew there would be a day when Megumi would ask him about his dating life. He was sure how he would react, whether he didn't like the idea or was indifferent. But this was a reaction he hadn't been expecting. For Megumi to basically give Toji his blessing to date you was literally unfathomable. And he had said it with such a straight face!

Megumi didn't know you; he'd barely met you, hardly said less than twenty words to you, and was giving His father permission. Your presence had that much of an impact on him? The same woman he had deemed a spoiled brat had won his son over merely by smiling and being kind.

He'd have to make sure Megumi knew you weren't staying forever. This arrangement was a temporary deal. One designed to keep you safe and out of harm's way.

As he headed into the living room, rubbing the back of his neck, thinking of how he could word it, he saw you standing in front of the bookcases, staring at the photos that lined the shelves. He'd been expecting to see an unreadable, almost bored face as you waited for him. What he was met with had him frozen in his spot.

Tears, literal tears welled in your eyes. You were crying while looking at pictures of his wife. The woman who’s impacted him in so many ways. Who had blessed him with a son who was so much like her? The same woman he had mourned for the last five years. Seeing you like that only made Toji regret his earlier words even more. With a sigh, Toji cleared his throat as he entered the living room, stomping his feet a little too loud to give you time to wipe the stray tears off your face.

“Sorry about the wait.”

“Oh, you’re fine; I’m the one imposing on your family.”

Toji wanted to argue and tell you to shut up, but he let it go. You weren’t a burden. He was happy to help you because it was the right thing to do.

So, instead of yelling or starting another argument, Toji stepped forward, ruffling the top of your head. “Come on, I’ll give ya’ a tour.” The apartment was lovely, with three bedrooms, two bathrooms, a living room, and a balcony overlooking the city. It was a pleasant, quiet home perfect for the two of them. It was also the place that you would call home for an indefinite future. “It’s a little cramped, but it’s still home.”

You both made your way back out to the living room. Where you were fiddling with your thumbs and anxiously looking around. Toji was watching you closely as he had been doing the entire night. You have been through so much in the last few hours he didn’t wanna push you further than you had been so far. Right now, the best thing he could do was get in bed and sleep this terrible night off.

He cleared his throat around the living room before moving the cushions off the couch. Upon seeing him moving, you jumped to help him take the cushions from him and place them off to the side—something his previous clients wouldn’t be caught dead. Then again, you weren’t like his other clients. The more time he spent with you, the more evident that became.

“You realize you don’t have to help me do this right.”

“What kind of house would I be if I didn’t help?”

Toji shook his head as he moved the coffee table to the side. “Ya’ know, I think you’re the only houseguest that has ever done this with me.” you shook your head this time, giving him an almost smug smile.

“Well, I think I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You should.”

You laughed, and God, it was sweet and light as air. A sound that ceased all of Toji’s movements as he looked up at you. After everything you had gone through tonight, you were still able to laugh and smile. And it wasn’t that fake laugh for the smile he watched you put on when you were at the stadium. You'd been through hell and back this evening, but you were grinning despite everything that you had gone through. Knowing that someone had gotten into your home, you were staying in a stranger's house, yet you were laughing a carefree giggle. For you to still be able to smile like everything was fine when he knew it took resilience and guts.

You hummed, rubbing at the back of your neck. Unaware of the watchful gaze that Toji was shooting in your direction. “I bet you have a lot of interesting stories to tell.” Your words pull him out of the stupor he found himself in while staring at your delicate features and pretty face.

“Uhm, yeah, yeah, I do have a lot of stories I could tell. But let’s put a pin in that; you had a long day. You need to get some rest.” Toji stretched his arms above his head before stretching the arms across his chest. “If you give me a few minutes, I can change the sheets on my bed, and you can shower.”

“Your bed?”

Toji blinked, looking away before looking back and meeting your confused gaze. “Yeah, I’m taking the couch; you can stay in my bed.” From the way you crossed your arms and fed your brows, Toji knew you didn’t approve of this idea.

“I’m not the type to kick you out of your bed because I’m staying with you. I am perfectly capable of sleeping on a pull-out bed.”

“No one said you weren’t, Doll Face.” The mere annoyance etched into his voice didn't faze you in the slightest. “Anyways, I'm sleeping here. So I'm going to go change my sheets, get you a towel, and then you can rest.”

“Just grab me a towel; I really don't mind sleeping out here.”

A vein in Toji’s forehead throbbed as he slowly turned to glare down at you, putting on the fakest smile he could muster. “You’re a brat, you know that? I'm trying to be nice and offer you my bed so you can get a good night’s sleep.” Navy eyes watched as you shrugged, fucking shrugged at his words.

“Don't take this the wrong way, but I would prefer you to be on your A-Game tomorrow. You are my bodyguard, after all. If anyone should get a good night's sleep, it should be you.”

With pure satisfaction, you watched Toji open his mouth to argue before slowly closing it. A cocky smile tugged at the corner of your mouth as your tall; muscular bodyguard couldn't bring himself to argue or disagree with you. Seeing that expression on your face, Toji’s eyes were twitching; maybe you were a brat.

“Ooh, you sure Miss Pop-Princess won’t mind sleeping on the couch? I wouldn't want it ruining your back~”

Instead of snapping or giving him attitude, Toji watched as you slowly tilted your head to the side. “You do realize I have slept on my fair share of couches before I was famous and after the fact.” Toji blinked, watching you run your hands over the mattress. “When I was staying with my friends, I slept on their sofa, and they didn't even have a pull-out mattress, so this is a step up.” Damn, you were just—normal.

“Fuck, you aren't like other clients I've had in the past.”

“Is that a good thing?”

You watched as Toji’s eyebrows furrowed in thought. “Eh, I don't know yet.” You glared at him, but your glare was cut short as he threw a pillow at your face. “Relax, it’s not necessarily a bad thing. You're just different. But sometimes different is good.”

Sometimes different was good?

Toji’s words had you tossing and turning on the pull-out bed. You sighed, staring at the ceiling as you tossed and turned, and his words echoed in your mind. After everything that had happened to you in the last few hours, you weren't sure if you agreed with him.

In fact, ever since you had gone viral, things have been incredibly different for you. And you weren't sure if it was a good thing. Your fame had its perks, of course. You made good money, more than enough to give back to the community and help those who couldn't help themselves. But, the downsides were turning out to be—worse than you ever imagined.

Your anxiety was at an all-time high; you had a stalker who had been watching you for god knows how long, and you were staying with your bodyguard, whom you knew practically nothing about. Well, that last part wasn't as bad as the other two drastic changes you were experiencing. Did that fact make it any less nerve-wracking and anxiety-inducing? No, it didn't.

Those thoughts plagued your mind all night; from the time Toji left you to shower until then, the blue velvet sky outside began turning a light shade of orange with the promise of morning. There was no way you were going to be able to sleep. You had come to terms with that fact before you even stepped foot into Toji's apartment building. The anxiety had dug its claws into you. Its talons seep into your skin like a poison meant to keep you up for all night hours.

Hopefully, this won't be a permanent change in your life.

The orange hue shifted to a lilac shade with pink clouds. At that point, you had given up on sleeping altogether, opting to sit on the fold-out bed and stare at the different shapes forming in the clouds. Just as you watched a rabbit shift into an elephant, a soft creaking sound pulled your attention away from the window.

Megumi wandered out of his room, rubbing his eyes as he looked around. Navy blue eyes met yours, and he stared at you for a second before continuing his way into the living room. He was silent as he plopped down on the end of the mattress, looking at the black screen of the television.

“You wanna watch television?” You questioned in a soft, almost motherly tone.

“No, I’m okay.” His timid voice melted your heart, but you could tell from how he stole glances at you that he had something to say.

“You sure about that.”

Another silence spread before he turned to look over his shoulder at you. “Yeah.” Little fingers picked at the thick blanket Toji had given you. “Did you sleep well?”

“I did, thank you for asking. How about you?”

He shrugged his shoulders, pulling a piece of lint to the blanket. “I slept okay.” Nodding your head, you sighed, looking out at the sky.

“Well, from the sounds of it, we both didn't sleep very well, and there's only one cure for a rough night.”

Your words had Megumi’s head snapping in your direction, curiosity gleaming in his big doe-eyed. “There’s a cure?” With a wide bobcat grin, you picked the blankets off yourself.

“Yes, and thankfully, I know the only cure out there. Wanna help me?” Megumi took your hand without hesitation, giving it a squeeze as you both headed beaded into the kitchen. “I can assure you that this cure will be the tastiest cure of them all.”

The smell of bacon pulled Toji out of dreamland. He groaned, running his hands down his face, and sat up, glancing at the clock. It was seven thirty, and Megumi was already up and about, staring at his day, much like his mother used to do. This would come in handy in the future, but for a six-year-old to be up cooking seemed unlikely, so it had to be you. At least Toji hoped it was you.

As tempting as it was to stay in bed and fall back asleep, the soft clattering from the kitchen urged Toji to investigate. Slipping on his grey sweats with a sigh, Toji headed out to the kitchen, where he found his son eating breakfast on one of the barstools. He was seconds away from scolding his son to wake him up the next time he was hungry when he heard the soft singing resonating from the stove.

There he saw you. You were swaying your hips to music softly playing on your phone. You were completely oblivious to him watching you as you flipped a pancake over in the frying pan you used. Normally, he'd be slightly irritated if someone he didn't know was using his kitchen and groceries without asking.

But you looked so pretty, mindlessly singing as you cooked breakfast. Not only his son, but for him too from the second plate sitting off to the side, and the third you were plating must be for you. It had been so long since Toji’s kitchen was filled with warmth, singing, and life. It was so strange, different.

But then again, different was sometimes good.

It was so good that Toji crept over to stand behind you, watching you flip the pancake to cook it perfectly. You still were unaware of his presence, which was slightly concerning, seeing that you were being stalked by a crazed maniac right now. That was something you both would have to work on in the future. For now, Toji was going to have a bit of fun.

He leaned as close as he could to your ear before chuckling. “I didn't know the Pop-Princess could cook.” When it came to startling you, Toji had expected a few things to happen. You’d likely react with a fight-or-flight. He imagined you trying to take a swing at him, which he could easily avoid. It made sense; you'd be on high alert, ready to fight for your life if needed.

Instead, a warm pancake smacked him in the face. He just stood there as the pancake slowly slid down his face, revealing your startled face and staring up at him in fear. Out of everything you could have used to your advantage, you threw a pancake at him. A flat, soft, warm breakfast treat had been the only line of defense you'd choose to use—when you were holding a frying pan. As the pancake fell to the floor with a soft thump, you and Toju stared into each other's eyes.

Toji had his work cut out for him.

Forever Tag List:

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[thus-it-is-proclaimed]

Hey hello but what if hobo Phoenix is dating Miles during the 7yg? What if Miles really really tries to be as respectful of his partner’s sense of autonomy and pride as possible?

[further brainstorming of a scene under the cut]

What if he takes Phoenix and Trucy out somewhere- to a festival, maybe, somewhere they could enjoy? What if Phoenix is overly critical of everything? What if he’s sour and bitchy because he feels unworthy of the price of his ticket, because he’s had a hard week, because he and Miles usually like to shit talk together?

What if Miles was really looking forward to this? What if Phoenix’s comments grate on him the whole night? What if Miles suggests Phoenix look at/try something, and is immediately shut down?

What if Miles finally breaks, calls Trucy over, and gently tells her that he will be going for a walk?

What if Phoenix gets angry, because now Miles is leaving again?

What if Miles— in hushed tones to protect innocent ears— demands Phoenix let go of his wrist because “We are not doing this in public. I am NOT doing this in a public setting—” and he leaves to save his composure?

What if Trucy knows, and tells her father, that he’s hurt Miles’ feelings?

What if Phoenix is surprised Miles does finally come back? What if they have to confront that Phoenix can’t always expect Miles to be able to take his barbed comments? What if- as much as Miles tries- he admits that he can’t always put up with Phoenix’s moods?

What if they love each other enough to not run, to not cling to unrealistic expectations, to understand that they are human?

What if Trucy has never seen that before?

What if Miles hasn’t since his father passed?

What if Phoenix has to learn how to express his negative emotions constructively, instead of pretending he’s invincible until it all overflows and drowns him and his loved ones?

Yeah… wow..

[genderfluid-insomniac]

Hey, i'm not sure if i can ask u this(u can just not answer if u want)but here i was wondering....

What Would happen if Sun and Mac(separate) met a fem Reader that is an incredibly nice and chill(and very beautiful)person, she's really kind and looks out for them, they bond and become friends in the process, but then after one crazy drunk Night, they don't see the Reader nor hear bout' her for a while(which upsets them a lot), until they run into her again, trying to contain their joy(or frustration if u prefer) they suddenly notice a child behind her,one that looks exactly like them, demanding an explanation, turns out the Reader didn't tell them anything BC they were scared of simply Being Seen as a "one Night stand", not having their feeling Being reciprocated and having their child Being rejected(also didn't want push the fatherly into them) so she raised the child herself, and always made sure to give them all her love despite not having it's father(s) by her Side.

a/n: I got a bit carried away and of course Macaque’s is long because this would shatter his trust and it wouldn’t recover as fast as Wukong would.

One night stand reunion //Sun Wukong x fem!reader x Macaque (separately)

Sun Wukong

When he first met you he swore that love at first sight wasn’t a thing but you were incredibly nice and beautiful, maintaining a chill attitude no matter the situation and easily continuing the conversation naturally.

You both first met at a festival on the outskirts of the city where you found him talking with another boy before catching your gaze. Of course, you knew who he was but it didn’t really matter to you since you just wanted to talk to him.

After a couple of minutes, you both warmed up to one another and talked the night away. You both clearly hit it off immediately and slowly became friends which started edging towards more as you both said flirt after flirt.

One night both of you were having drinks and became tipsy, getting closer and closer with hands roaming up both of your bodies. You kissed passionately and slowly stripped down to nothing, ending the night in each other's arms exhausted and panting harshly.

However as days passed he didn’t see you and started to search all over the city, asking MK and the gang if they’d seen you and describing your features only to find nothing. Anybody could tell Wukong was depressed about your sudden disappearance and tried to cheer him up only for every attempt to fail.

A couple of years later suddenly MK calls Wukong to come to the shop since someone was asking to meet him and zoomed over to meet this stranger. You were nervously pacing back and forth with your child holding onto your hand behind you, poking you to get your attention, and looking wide-eyed at Wukong who stares shocked at you both.

His eyes go from you to your child who is almost a carbon copy of him aside from a few details and back to you, ushering your kid to MK and Pigsy while you listen to his frustration and grievances. He was right on some points and you teared up when you yelled that you were scared he didn’t love you back or worse that he didn’t want the baby so you raised them alone.

There were a few minutes of silence before Wukong kneeled down and peered over at his kid, slowly coaxing them out and smiling warmly when he introduced himself and apologized for not being in their life.

The entire night was emotional for everyone and you all spent the night on FFM, sharing stories from the past years and cuddling each other to make up for lost time.

Macaque

Now you were at a full moon harvest festival when you decided to take a break and hang on the edge of the area when you spotted a dark-furred monkey leaning against a tree. He didn’t seem up to chat and mostly ignored you for a bit, respecting his wishes and sitting in pleasant silence. You heard him sigh and speak up, making a joke about how persistent you were to make conversation.

Macaque was surprised by how insistent you were to talk to him but also how nice you were, respecting his wishes and relaxing next to him. You were gorgeous on top of how amazing your personality was it made him want to know you more than just a stranger but his fractured trust issues made it hard to get to know you better.

Unlike Wukong it takes a couple of weeks to become good friends and a couple of months to get to that night where you get drunk, leaning on him and slowly creeping closer. Another drink and you both go for a kiss, climbing onto his lap and wrapping your arms around his neck. You bring him back to your apartment and lead him to your bedroom, quickly stripping and feeling him trailing kisses down your neck.

All of a sudden though, in the following days you disappeared, and he at first thought you were busy so he left it at that but it quickly changed when he couldn’t find you anywhere. All he could find was a note taped to your door for him and it read that you were eternally sorry for what you were about to do but you didn’t want to burden him.

This shattered already broken trust issues and caused him to go into a year-long depression where he had so many different emotions bothering him it physically pained him. No one could get him out or break him out of it and he hated that a part of him still held out hope for you.

2 or so years later he seemed to have finally been getting over you or at least seemed as though he got over it to others when he was walking along the marketplace only to see a familiar face pass through the crowd. Without hesitation, he slipped into the shadows to see if it was really you and it was!

Part of him was furious that you had the audacity to show up here like nothing had ever happened but the other part was nearly crying out of joy that you were back. Without question, he dropped you through a shadow portal to a more private area and stepped out of the shadows.

You both stared at one another before he started shouting about how you didn’t even explain why you left or bothered to even tell him in person. He laid into you with shout after shout and screaming how much you hurt him with tears pricking his eyes, looking at your face with tears streaming down your face, and waited patiently for a response.

However, a small voice spoke up, and a nearly identical version of him but a toddler pulled on your hand also crying, asking you if you were okay and to not cry with a hand over one set of their six ears. You continued to sob but kneeled down on the concrete to hug your kid barely sputtering out apologies to them about the noise and that you were just sad.

He watched in shock as the dark-furred cub wrapped their tail around your arm and cupped your face, trying to wipe your tears and getting caught in a staring match with him. The kid looked back and forth between their mom and him before standing protectively in front of you and correctly assuming he was the reason you were upset.

After a couple of minutes, he knelt down as well continuing to look at your kid and having trouble figuring out what to say since he was still hurt but also now understanding the situation. You sniffled and wiped the remaining tears from your eyes, staring at the ground beginning to explain that you panicked.

You told him how after a couple of days you took a pregnancy test and it came up positive but you assumed that he didn’t love you back and would be disgusted or hateful if he found out about your baby. Then explain to your kid that he was their father and profusely apologizing and understanding if he never wanted to see you again.

It was like Macaque was looking into a mirror as he saw the child’s six ears flutter and he took down the glamour around his own ears, seeing the cub light up in astonishment and touch their own ears. They slowly walked toward him and tentatively put his hand out, wanting to touch his dad and slowly allowing them to hug him.

All the while you looked on with a bittersweet smile and heard Macaque respond that it would take a long time for him to fully trust you again but he could understand why you what you did. You started crying when you saw him quietly crying too and crumbled as you were allowed to hug him as well.

[tragedy-of-commons]

"are you crying?" + blade + platonic/familial (found family father figure blade with teen!reader) please :3

"Are you crying?"

Oh no.

Blade's question - if you can even call it that, considering he says everything in that deadpan tone of his - hangs in the air for a stagnant minute and then some.

Maybe if you don't make a peep, don't move a muscle, he'll give up and go back to minding his own business. It's not too far-fetched! Despite how savage and brutal he is in combat, he's surprisingly calm (and daresay gentle at times). Maybe he'll read the room, absorbing your aura wordlessly like Kafka can.

He grunts your name, an edge present that wasn't there before.

...or maybe not.

You break your silence, whirling around to face him, plastering the hugest, most saccharine smile on your face. It doesn't matter if there are tears rolling down your cheeks and a bit of snot sticking to your upper lip (ew). You have to try to get him off your back before something worse happens.

"Crying? I'm not doing that, no, never. You see, Firefly was in here chopping onions earlier," you chirp, rattling off lies like it's your second nature. Well, it is, that's why you got roped into joining this questionable team in the first place - but that's neither here nor there!

Blade looks at you.

You look at Blade.

Deflating and dropping the act, you swallow, trying to retain some of your cheery tone while you sniffle. "Okay, you win. I just... it's been a rough day, I'm sure you know how it is."

If there's one thing you know about your ancient colleague, it's that he can't make small talk for the life of him. You don't think it's his fault, really. Silver Wolf let it slip that he's lost pieces of himself to mara over the years - some days he can't hold functionality beyond a weapon without Kafka's pacifying mind tricks.

So, trying to keep up casual conversation with Blade is akin to yapping at a brick wall. You've gotten used to it, sure, but the way he's looking at you right now - with a pinched brow and somewhat of a snarl - is starting to unnerve you.

Does crying piss him off? You understand it's not a pleasant thing to deal with (not that you expect him to). But seeing him this angry outside of battle makes you want to run and drop off the grid for the rest of your life, abandoning your very important Stellaron Hunter duties and Blade in the process.

You swallow, wiping your face with your sleeve. You can't seem to stop miffing him, because he stalks over to you completely in two strides while you freeze up in muted terror.

Is he going to execute you?! Has he decided to circumvent Elio's rules just to shut you up? Is your pathetic sniveling really going to be your undoing? Will the others have to scrape your remains off the walls and floor, your life forever immortalized as a reminder to keep the waterworks under contro--

He all but shoves something into your limp hand, closing your fingers around it a little too tenderly before sidestepping you like he's been scalded by boiling hot water.

It's soft, and you eventually realize it's a handkerchief. It's the darkest navy can pass without actually being black, embroidered with neat red stitching and obviously made with love. You don't know why he even has something like this - it's not like he ever cries - but you let the train of thought go in favor of soothing your frayed nerves.

You don't think twice before bringing the cloth to your face and wiping the remnants of your sadness away, trying to find your words in the process. Your coworker is now standing shoulder-to-shoulder with you, all traces of perceived anger gone. The foot or so between you and Blade isn't a wide berth, but it's still too far.

"Oh," you manage dumbly, now sporting a considerably drier nose.

Unimpressed, he replies. "I know."

"What?"

Okay, you sense his frustration this time. Blade sighs and wrenches his head in your direction for just a moment, exasperated and tense. "I know... how it is. Like you said."

You tighten your grip on the handkerchief wadded up in your hand. It's strange to hear him converse with you willingly, let alone try to comfort you (at least, you think that's what he's doing). Even so, his admission strikes a certain chord in your heart that's dusty from neglect. You sneak a glance at his figure, and when you meet eyes of burning coal, he returns to glowering at the wall.

Everyone on this ship has been through so much, especially him. You're certain that Blade does know what it's like to have some shitty days; he's probably had thousands of them.

You shrug. "Yeah... um, I figured. Nothing much I can do about it though. Bad stuff happens to everybody."

A lengthy pause stretches on until Blade takes up the mantle.

"You can't do anything about it," he repeats, statement curtailing into a dangerous drawl, "...but what about someone like me?"

Someone like him. Dread and something like fondness washes over you at the implication. The type of person he is - an eponymous sword and scabbard that slaughters on command - cannot fix the type of anguish you're dealing with. He's offering to help in the best way he knows how, you realize slowly.

The fact that he's even offering to shed blood in your name is a bit scary - not just because murder is wrong or whatever, but because he's actively trying to care about you.

No one's ever done that before.

"Alright, who are you and what have you done with Blade?" you joke, grinning genuinely this time, even if lingering moisture clings to your lashes. "Kidding. As nice as the offer is, I don't think your, um, solution... will help either."

You don't think it matters anymore - you're already starting to forget what got you so down in the first place. Perhaps you haven't given him enough credit, because by the way Blade's posture relaxes, he also notices this. No murder necessary tonight.

"Stand tall," he commands, pointedly not meeting your eyes as he pats your head. Before you have any time to process that, he disappears quickly down the adjoining hallway, likely slinking off to shred some training dummies.

You fly into a double-take, jaw practically on the floor.

Seems like you'll have to interrogate the old man whenever you get a chance to wash and return his handkerchief.

As you open up your messages app to text Silver Wolf all the details (with a concerning amount of stickers), your day doesn't seem so rough anymore.

"Thanks, Bladie," you whisper secretly to no one but yourself.

🏷️: @akutasoda, @aviiarie, @lowkeyren, @https-sourlimes

a/n: i finally got it done! so psyched to work on another platonic/familial prompt and it's BLADE i'm so sick. thank you for this request! :D

event post here

[sxcretricciardo]

Make it work

•

The cold bite of winter lingered outside as you sat nestled in the warmth of your shared home with Daniel. Snow had fallen overnight, and the world beyond the window was blanketed in a thick layer of white, but inside, the fireplace crackled softly, creating a cozy glow that made the living room feel like a warm cocoon.

You had your legs draped over Daniel’s lap, a blanket pulled up over both of you as you watched a movie, though the plot had long since faded into the background. Daniel’s hand absentmindedly stroked your calf, his attention more on you than the screen. It was moments like these—quiet, unhurried, just the two of you—that you cherished most. With his F1 schedule being so demanding, times like this felt rare and precious.

“You want another hot chocolate?” Daniel asked, his voice smooth and soft as he glanced down at you. His brown eyes were filled with that familiar warmth, the playful spark that never seemed to dim.

“Yeah, I think I’ll—” Your words cut off suddenly, a wave of dizziness hitting you hard and fast. You blinked, your vision blurring. You tried to steady yourself, but before you could say anything, the room tilted, and everything went black.

---

When you came to, the harsh smell of disinfectant hit your senses first. Your head felt heavy, your body sluggish as you blinked your eyes open. The bright lights of the hospital room made you wince, but a strong, warm hand gripped yours tightly, anchoring you.

Daniel’s face hovered above yours, his expression filled with worry. His hair was slightly tousled, as if he had run his hands through it a million times in frustration. His eyes, usually so full of light, were clouded with fear and concern.

“Hey, you’re awake,” he said softly, his voice catching in his throat. Relief flooded his features, but there was still a lingering tension in his shoulders.

“What... what happened?” you murmured, your voice scratchy as you tried to sit up. But Daniel gently pushed you back against the pillows.

“You passed out at home. I couldn’t wake you up, so I brought you here.” His voice was low, but you could hear the tremor in it. “The doctors ran some tests...”

Your heart started to race as you took in his expression. “What’s wrong with me?”

Daniel hesitated, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on the back of your hand. “You’re... you’re pregnant.”

The words hit you like a ton of bricks. You blinked at him, trying to process. “What?”

“Four months,” he continued, his voice soft but firm. “You’re four months pregnant.”

You stared at him, unable to comprehend. Pregnant? Four months? How had you not known? How was that even possible? You hadn’t had any symptoms—no sickness, no changes, nothing to indicate you were carrying a child. Your mind spun as you tried to wrap your head around it.

“I... I didn’t know,” you whispered, more to yourself than to Daniel. “I had no idea.”

“I know,” he said quietly, squeezing your hand. “Neither did I.”

You lay there in stunned silence, your hand instinctively moving to your stomach. Four months. You were already four months along. The realization hit you with a strange mixture of shock and awe. Unplanned, unexpected, and yet, here you were, already well into your pregnancy.

Daniel shifted in his seat, his fingers tightening around yours. “We’ll figure this out,” he said, his voice firm but gentle. “Together.”

---

Months passed in a blur. Winter turned into spring, and the baby bump that had once been almost imperceptible grew round and prominent. Daniel’s racing schedule was as demanding as ever, but he never missed a moment when he could be home with you. During the winter break, he doted on you endlessly, his excitement about becoming a father shining through in everything he did. Every kick, every ultrasound, every little sign of the baby’s development—Daniel was there for all of it, his enthusiasm contagious.

As the months progressed, he continued to race, flying in and out of the house between races. You both settled into a new rhythm. He’d send you messages from all over the world, videos of him talking to your growing belly when he couldn’t be there in person, his voice filled with laughter and love.

“I’ll be home soon, little one,” he’d say in the videos, his smile wide as he rubbed his hands together. “Keep growing for me, okay? Your mum and I can’t wait to meet you.”

Summer came, and with it, the reality of impending parenthood started to sink in more deeply. The heat seemed to cling to everything, and you found yourself more uncomfortable as your due date drew nearer. But Daniel was there during every moment he could be—holding you close when you needed comfort, rubbing your back, and easing your swollen feet at the end of long days.

As the racing season came to a close, Daniel’s final race was met with bittersweet excitement. He finished strong, proud, but his mind was already home, thinking of you and the baby. That weekend, you went into labor.

The hospital was a flurry of activity as Daniel held your hand through it all, his eyes never leaving yours as you both prepared for the arrival of your daughter. The birth was peaceful, almost serene, despite the intensity of the experience. The moment she was born, the room filled with the soft cries of a baby girl.

She was perfect—tiny and delicate, her little fingers curling around Daniel’s as he gazed down at her, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. You were exhausted but overwhelmed with love, watching the man you adored hold the life you had created together.

“She’s beautiful,” Daniel whispered, his voice thick with emotion. He looked at you with a smile that was both tired and utterly full of joy. “We did it.”

---

The days that followed felt like a dream. You brought your daughter home, the house now filled with the soft coos and cries of a newborn. Adjusting to life as new parents wasn’t easy—sleepless nights, endless diaper changes, and the overwhelming responsibility of caring for such a tiny, fragile life. But Daniel was a natural. Every spare moment he had was spent with you and the baby. He’d wake up in the middle of the night for feedings, hold her close while you rested, and was always there with a joke or a smile when things felt overwhelming.

“She’s got your nose,” he’d say with a grin as he rocked her in his arms. “Definitely your nose.”

“And your stubbornness,” you’d tease back, though deep down, you loved watching how easily he had fallen into his role as a father.

The three of you found your rhythm, a new kind of life that was quieter, more intimate, but so much fuller than either of you had ever imagined. Daniel still had his racing career, still flew off to races around the world, but now he had something—someone—waiting for him at home. And every time he came back, it was with a grin, a kiss for you, and a promise to be the best dad he could possibly be.

As the snow started to fall again outside, you sat together on the couch, your daughter asleep in Daniel’s arms, the warmth of the fire casting a soft glow over the room. Life had changed so much in the span of a year, but in that moment, surrounded by love, you knew it was exactly where you were meant to be.

“I love you,” Daniel whispered, his eyes meeting yours with that same familiar warmth, but now there was something more—an unshakable bond, a family.

“I love you too,” you replied softly, resting your head on his shoulder as you watched your little girl sleep, your heart full.

[dronebiscuitbat]

Tera and Kiara. "Birthday Emergency"

Today was Tera Doorman's sixteenth birthday. And Kiara had already gotten her best friend the best gift she could possibly think of. A red flannel shirt!

it might seem lame, and to anyone else it probably was. But Tera had been asking her parents for any new clothes they could find after she had officially transferred over to her teenager body, and now a lot of her clothes didn't fit quite right because she'd shot up like a weed! She was just as tall as Mrs. V now! Way taller then any other worker drones and especially taller then Kiara herself, a good foot taller. And she'd seen Tera eyeing it when they walked passed the shop window, like all things when it came to her best friend, she never outright said she wanted it, luckily for her she didn't need to! Kiara knew by now when Tera liked something, even when she was trying to hide it.

So she was making her way to Tera's house, gift lovingly wrapped and tucked into her backpack as they'd just got out of school. Her grey converse flattening the blue grass underneath her feet as her vents took in the fresh air. the walled little village of Sanctuary was beautiful in the spring, nestled under the thick shade of jungle canopy with flowers of every color sprouting from the tangled vine covering the circle of metallic houses that made up the colony. A Pump-Jack in the middle that thrummed each time it made it's cycle. The beating heart of town, it's lifeblood running through all of the drones that lived there.

Tera lived closer to the town gate, so that's where she was off to, the houses were stacked on top of each other. a sturdy walkway the only thing connecting the upper houses to the lower ones, she'd have to climb it. Tera's family lived right at the top, the home being slightly larger then all the others. Witch made sense, Tera's mom was the leader of the colony after all.

When she got there she rapped on the wooden door, the entire thing vibrating on it's hinges for a moment before opening wide to reveal the smiling face of Tera's father. N. Missing his signature cap at the moment, and wearing a coat that covered most of his body.

"Kiara! I was wondering when you would stop by!" He wrapped her in a crushing hug, tail wagging behind him. Kiara couldn't help but giggle at his enthusiasm. She wished her own dad was as happy to see her!

"Hi Mr.Doorman! I'm here to give Tera her birthday gift!" She greeted after he put her down. Shaking her backpack (in the visage of a mouse) gently up at him, smiling from visor seam to visor seam. N looks down at her, a slightly confused expression taking over his face.

"She's not with you? We figured you two would've come in together when she didn't show up here right after school." The same look of confusion passed over Kiara's face. Tera had told her she was headed straight home since it was the weekend, and she wanted to practice on her guitar before her parents threw her "Gotcha Day." party. It usually lasted two days or so, starting Friday evening and going on into the day Saturday. Which meant: Sleepover! (She'd already packed her pajamas!)

But if Tera wasn't here where was she?

"No. She's not with me, she said she was going straight home." She explained, confusion turned to worry on both father and best friend. N hummed, putting a finger underneath his chin. "That's odd, Tera would call us if she went somewhere..."

He was right. Tera absolutely would not lie about where she was going, if she wasn't here, something must have held her up. Maybe Rad had seen her? or more accurately, would he be the one talking her ear off about some new skateboarding trick he learned?

So she called him, not even having to scroll through her system contacts to find him, he was listed right under Tera.

It took only a single ring for him to pick up.

"Hey K. Was just on the way over to T's house for the party. Am I late or something?" His raspy, yet somehow soft voice hit her audio receptors. Well, that answered that question, she wasn't with Rad.

"Sorry, I was just calling to see if Ter-Bear was with you. But it doesn't sound like it." She sighed, forcing down the butterflies in her stomach at the sound of his voice. No time for that! Best Friend was missing!

"Nah. Not with me. Thought  I saw her heading into the gym when I left, maybe she's still there?"

The gym? There wasn't any reason for her to go into the gym when school was letting out.

"Thank yooou. I'm gonna look for her, she's gonna miss her own party!" She replied, and Rad responded with a chuckle. "Maybe she went to fight someone. wouldn't be the first time." He hung up, the double beep signifying the calls end.

That was true... Tera could be described as explosive from time to time. But it was usually only in defense of her friends, not for no reason.

Well... she had been acting strange today, being a bit quieter then usual, taking more sips from her flask and being a little... moody. But Tera had assured her everything was fine! She just felt a little warm was all. But now Kiara was concerned She hoped Tera hadn't just said that to keep her from worrying.

"I'm going to check back at the school Mr. Doorman , Rad said she might still be there." She told N before beginning her decent off the walkway again. N gave her a nod and a wave. "Alright... I'll look around town, maybe she got distracted by something."

Everything Hurt.

Tera was curled up under the bleachers in the gym, holding her sides tightly, panting as she tried to cool herself off, she'd drunk every last drop of oil in her flask that was supposed to last her all week, she'd finished it in less then a day, and it still wasn't enough... nothing was enough.

Her internals were searing, sweat building on her visor as she let out a pathetic whimper. It felt like something was moving underneath her silicone, squirming like some caught prey, she felt like she was going to throw up as she felt it shift in her back.

Another wave of pain overtook her and she sunk her fangs into her own hand to stop from screaming. She was dying, she had to be, no way anything else hurt this bad.

"Tera? Are you here?" Oh no... oh no. That was Kiara's voice, she must have come looking after she didn't show up at home. This was bad, she didn't need to see her like this!

She continued to bite into her own hand to stifle her noises, praying that she could keep herself quiet and unseen long enough for Kiara to move on.

Unfortunatly, that was not happening, as Kiara moved farther into the gym, Tera could feel an unbearable pressure in her backside before-

"AHHHHHH!" She screamed, something breaking through the silicone near her legs with a sickening squelch, boiling oil hitting the floor and running down her legs as she felt something slightly squishy hit her back with a slap. "Oh fuck..."

Tera glanced behind her, a tail with a dozen purple glowing eyes looked back, covered in her own oil now dripping onto the floor.

"Tera!" the commotion led Kiara right to her, tears pricked in Tera's eyelights, from fear or pain or just being overwhelmed, she wasn't sure.

"G-Get out of here!" She begged, her mom had warned her of this of course. Of the day her wings and tail would come in. She knew what came after, the blood-lust, the hunger. "I don't wanna h-hurt you!" Her voice was strained with pain as her tail thrashed. she could feel the fleshy wings just under her casing, pushing and pushing, there wasn't anywhere else for them to go.

"Oh my god! T-Tail..." Kiara kneeled next to her, completely ignoring Tera's plea for her to go, a hand placed on her back that was oh so heavenly cold. It almost made the heat bearable... almost.

"Please... Kiara, leave me here..." She was actually crying now, tears falling unabated on the inside of her visor as she felt a growl escape her mouth, the casing covering her back suddenly fractured, causing Tera to lurch forward in pain.

"Like this? You're burning up!" Kiara exclaimed back, taken aback by Tera's new tail by only a second before she was in front of her, grabbing both sides of Tera's face and lifting it up to face her  pretty white eyelights. "I'm with you Ter-Bear, tell me what you need."

The agonized drone whimpered, words failing as the sensation of cold hands touched her face. Oil she needed Oil.

There was no way in hell she was asking that of her though.

"You need oil, don't you?"

Dammit.

Tera shook her head despite her mouth watering at the thought of it, another wave of pain and she felt the wings started to break through, oil staining her tank top as parts of her casing broke off, she attempted to bite her hand again to stop the scream.

But, Kiara stopped her, grabbing her hand before it could make it to her mouth. "No no no, don't do that..." She hummed softly. "Don't hurt yourself."

"No... Hurt you. Leave..." The words were broken and under static, growling under every note. Kiara shook her head. "I'm not leaving, you won't hurt me. I know you better then that."

Kiara! This was not the time to be stubborn!

"You need oil right? I'm right here, you can take it from me." She offered, Tera's eyelights went hollow, and her mouth watered uncontrollably... the heat was so bad, she felt like she was about to pass out...

"No No No, B-Bad Idea- Bad Idea." More broken words, now more desperate.

"Your mouth is watering, it's okay. I promise..." Kiara drew closer, Tera wanted to pull away, she was trembling as the much smaller girl pulled her up to rest Tera's head into her shoulder, she could hear the oil pumping through the tubing, hell, she could smell it. "You won't hurt me." Kiara repeated again, hugging her gently.

Something snapped.

In a moment, Tera was sinking her fangs into her best friends exposed neck, causing the girl to yelp and stiffen as a brief flash of pain was registered through her system, a warning about a hull breach popped up on her visor but she quickly cleared it, stroking Tera's head.

Two things happened at once. A pair of fleshy wings erupted out of Tera's back, and she could feel Tera bite down on her neck harder in response, and... yeah it hurt. But Tera was probably in way more pain, so she did her best to not wince. Then Tera suddenly gripped her harder, she could feel oil pouring into her best friends mouth and out of her at a frightening rate. Her breath stuttered as more warnings began to arrive, she shut them out too, and stroked through a head of thick black hair instead.

"Mmmhuh... You... almost done?" She began to feel woozy, She was loosing... a lot of oil. But she still wasn't scared. Tera would stop, they would both be fine, she knew that.

Then, at her words, she heard a blessedly familiar sound erupt from Tera.

She was purring, her tail wrapping around Kiara's frame as the amount of oil she was loosing slowed to a trickle, a series of whimpers then followed, as she felt a long tongue lick up the wound until it stopped leaking, and Kiara felt herself sigh in relief, there she was...

It took a moment for Tera to register where she was and what she was doing, she pulled back, frightened by the massive bite mark she'd left on Kiara's neck, But Kiara just smiled, much more relieved that Tera was back to herself and collapsed into the taller girls chest.

“W-what just happened?” Tera asked, stammering as she blinked around in confusion, there was the taste of the sweetest oil she'd ever tasted in her mouth.

“Mmm. Aha… I'm kinda dizzy.” Kiara's voice came muffled from being buried in Tera's tank top. Followed by a tired giggle.

“Kia! I'm so sorry! I was just so hot and- Kia?” It didn't matter what she said, Kiara had fallen asleep the moment she knew Tera was okay. Curling up into Tera's lap as the purple eyed drone tried not to panic.

For the moment though… she let Kiara sleep, tail still wrapped around her frame as Tera flexed her new wings behind her with a sigh.

“You stubborn…. Ugh. I could've killed you.” She mumbled, moving some blonde hair out of Kiara's face. [Recovery Mode] reading out on her visor. But she couldn't stop the purring that came from her core. “You trust me too much.”

And yet, there they stayed, Tera stroking down Kiara's back, until Kiara recovered enough to wake back up…

[gibbysoup]

🌙 𝓗𝓸𝓬𝓾𝓼 𝓹𝓸𝓬𝓾𝓼 🐈‍⬛

Chris x reader

“Oh come on it’s just a bunch of hocus pocus”

Chapter 1

Warning: 90s bullying, almost fight, crying

A/n: I don’t own the rights to hocus pocus, I changed a couple things to fit this story

Halloween, a day that y/n truly just never understood. Even when she was a little kid, she thought the idea of putting on a costume and getting candy was a dumb idea, and as a now teenager, she definitely still thought it was dumb.

Moving to a new town wasn’t exactly what you wanted to do for your junior year of high school. You were happy at home, you loved sitting in the sun and jamming to Jimi Hendrix. But that was now all coming to an end as you now had to start wearing a coat in October due to the weather in Salem.

After a shitty day of school, all you wanted to do was take a nap, listen to some music or catch a scary movie on tv. But your parents had different planes for you. Your little sister Dani had been persistent on you taking her treat or treating around the new town. They thought it would be good for her to meet kids her age in the neighborhood. The only problem for you was that your parents would be going to a Halloween party that night, so you were now on trick or treating duty.

———————

“Let’s go, hurry up. The bewitching hour’s about to begin!” Your father yelled up the stairs to you and Dani. She ran down the stairs, eager to show your parents her witch costume. Once your father saw Dani he smiled at her. “That’s very scary, wow!” He then turned to you. “What about you, y/n, what are you supposed to be?” He asked you.

She looked at him. “A little leaguer..” y/n said, dead paned. She hadn’t put too much effort into her costume. It had been a while since she had actually trick or treated. She could tell that her father was just trying to get her a little more excited about the holiday, but she just stood there, frowning in her baseball cap and jacket.

Your mother came in, holding a camera to take a of the three of you to capture the moment. “Say Halloween!” She beamed.

“Halloween!” Dani and her father said, well she just stood there, a slight scowl on her face.

———————-

Y/n was carting Dani around to different houses so she can go trick-or-treating. Every house was decorated to the max. lights, pumpkins, fake spider webs and witches. Dani was clearly enjoying getting candy and going house to house, but y/n just dragged her feet the whole way.

“Lighten’ up, y/n.” Dani told her older sister, annoyed that she was clearly bringing the mood down.

Y/n heard this and rolled her eyes. “Can we go home now?” She requested, but Dani just shook her head.

“Nope.”

Just then y/n spots Jay and Ice and some of their friends harassing the kids passing by for candy. She knew those kids were bad news and she didn’t want Dani caught in the cross fire. And just before y/n had been tormented by the two earlier didn’t mean that Dani should be subjected to it.

“Let’s just go this way.” Y/n said, trying to get Dani to make her way to a different house that she could collect candy at but Dani headed straight for Ice and Jay, ignoring y/n. “Dani!0 she shouted, trying to get the attention of her younger sister, but it was no use.

“Ding ding. Ding ding.” Ice heldup his leg so Dani can’t passed him when she tried to enter the house.

“Stop and pay the toll, kid.” Jay told her.

“Ten chocolate bars, no licorice.” Ice said, gesturing to her pillowcase filled with candy.

“Dump out your sack!” Jay shouted at her.

“Drop dead, moron.” Dani spat, trying to make the boys leave her alone.

“Yo, twerp. How’d you like to be hung off that telephone pole?” Ice asked her, a slightly threaten tone in his voice.

“I’d just like to see you try it. Cause it just so happens I’ve got my big sister with me. Y/n!” She said, trying to scare the boys away from her.

Jay and Ice were clearly not impressed or intimidated by this threat. But they especially weren’t scared when they saw y/n walk up.

“Hollywood. Oh no.” Ice said, pretending to be scared of the girl as she approached the two boys and there group of followers. She had earned the nickname Hollywood due to her being from California. Apparently everyone in Salem thinks that just because you live in California means you live in Hollywood.

“So you’re doing a little trick-or-treating?” Jay asked, stepping closer to y/n.

She shook her head. “I’m taking my little sister around.” She answered.

“That’s nice. Whoa, I love the costume. But what are you supposed to be? A New Kid on the Block?” He asked her, his little minions laughing at his joke.

“For your information, shes a little leaguer!” Dani said, not making the situation any better.

“Whoa, little leaguer!” Jay said, He and Ice started to fake play a game of baseball to mock y/n. Dani tried to walk by again, but was unsuccessful.

“Wait a minute. Everyone pays the toll.” Ice reminded her.

“Stuff it, zit face.” Dani sassed back.

“Why you little…” ice said, moving to hit Dani, but y/n quickly stepped in the way, protecting her sister.

“Hey, Ice…” y/n shoved her bag of candy at him. “Here. Pig out. Come on Dani, let’s go.” She said, grabbing her little sisters hand and walked her in the other direction.

“See you later Hollywood…” Ice taunted, waving goodbye to the girls as him and his crew laughed.

—————-

Y/n and Dani walk up the steps to another house for more candy. Dani was still upset about the interaction prior. “You should have punched them.” Dani told y/n.

“They would have killed me.” Y/n said to her. Not only were they bigger than her, but she was also out numbered.

“At least it would have made your reputation at school a little better.” Dani snarked.

Y/n was fed up, she had a bad day, a bad Halloween, and overall just a bad life. “Hey! You just humiliated me in front of half the guys at school! So collect your candy and get out of my life!” She yelled. She didn’t even know what she was saying, she was just letting her anger and humiliation speak. But the look on little Dani’s face just showed heartbreak.

“I wanna go home! Now!” She exclaimed, storming off.

Y/n rushes off after her, finally tracking her down as Dani was now crying into a hey-barrel that was a part of someone’s Halloween decorations.

She looked down at her crying little sister who had her face in her hands as she weeped. Y/n knew this whole move was non of her fault, so she shouldn’t even be taking this anger and frustration out on her. She sat down next to her.

“Dani, I’m sorry. It’s just that I hate this place. I miss all my friends. I wanna go home.” Y/n confessed. “It’s just been hard..”

Dani looked up at y/n, tears streaming down her face. “Well this is your home now, so get used to it.” Dani said, sniffing and wiping her nose.

Y/n sighed, she knew that Dani was right. She needed to except that Salem was there home now and they were stuck here, well she was stuck here until she graduated and went off to collage.“Yeah. Give me one more chance?” She asked her little sister, hoping she could be forgiven.

“Why should I?” Dani gave her a skeptical look.

“Cause I’m your big sister.” She said, causing Dani to laugh, then reach up and hug her older sister. Y/n wrapped her arms around Dani, holding her in a tight embrace before looking up at the sky. “Whoa, did check that out.” She pointed out to Dani to look up and see.

“What?” Dani questioned, her curiosity peaked.

“Something just flew across the moon.” Y/n said.

Dani looks up and y/n jumps at her and scares her a bit. They both laugh. It was a sweet moment being shared by two sisters.

“Let’s go, jerk face.” Dani giggling. Y/n didn’t say anything back, instead she just laughed at her childish insult.

They both stood up and turned to look at the house, only it was a beautiful mansion.

“Whoa!” They both said, staring at the large building in amazement

“Check out this house.” Y/n said.

“Ah, rich people. They’ll probably make us drink cider and bob for apples.” Dani said, looking up at her other sister. They both gave a nod and walked into the house.

The entered the Foyer seeing that the door was wide open. “Trick-or-treat?!” They both said, looking around. Dani’s eyes went wide when she spotted a huge cauldron full of candy. “Jackpot!” Dani said, immediately running over to get her share of candy. “They got kind sized candy bars!” Dani said excitedly, holding up a chocolate bar to show her sister.

“Y/n Denison..” a voice said, she looked up and saw none other then Chris sturniolo, a boy from one of her classes that she totally was crushing on. She slightly froze, dropping whatever candy she had in her hand as he made his way down the stairs. She was now starting to wonder how he even remembered her name.

“Chris…hi..” she had said, slightly nervous to now be in his house. She was suddenly worried about how she looked or where her hands were placed.

“Oh, chris huh?” Dani smirked, looking up at y/n.

Y/n looked down at the younger girl and gave her what can only be described as a death glare, hoping it would shut her up from further embarrassing her in front of her crush.

“I thought you weren’t into Halloween.” Chris said making his way down the large staircase, coming to greet the both of the two girls

“I’m not, I’m just taking my little sister, Dani, around.” She said. Y/n wasn’t at all surprise that Chris had remembered what she had said earlier in class that day and about Halloween being made up by the candy companies.

Chris shot y/n and Dani a warm smiling before speaking. “Well that’s nice, my brother used to do that with me and my brothers.” He said.

“I always do it.” Y/n told Chris, acting like the whole thing was her idea, but Dani had to butt in and open her mouth.

“My parents made her.” Dani told Chris. Once again, y/n shot her little sister a death glare, giving her a slight elbow to the shoulder, hoping that would give her the hit to stop talking.

After a moment of silent had passed, Chris spoke. “Do you guys want some cider?” He offered the two girls.

“No.” Dani said flatly, but at the same time, y/n answered. “Sure!”

Chris went over and got two cups of cider. One for him and one for y/n. He came back and handed the other cup to y/n. “Thanks. So, um, how’s the party?” She asked him.

“Boring. It’s just a bunch of my parent’s friends. They do this every year. I’ve got candy duty” he said. “Or well, I was supposed to have some help but my bothers seem to have forgotten that there supposed to help me.” He said. He motioned for his brothers to come join him. Two boys who looked identical to Chris walked over. She knew Chris was a triplet, but she couldn’t for the life of her remember there names.

Matt and nick had entered the foyer, dragging their attention away from the party. “This is Nick and Matt.” He said gesturing to each of his brother’s respectively. “This is y/n, and her sister Dani. They just moved here for California.” He explained, then looking back at you.

“Wait there’s three of you?” Dani questioned, looking back and fourth at the three teenagers.

“Yeah Dani, that’s kinda the whole point of triplets.” She pointed out to her.

Dani looked up at y/n. “Duh…I know what triplets are.” She said, rolling her eyes. The three boys laughed at the interaction, knowing the sibling back and fourth all too well.

“By the way, Dani, I love your costume, I’m like, really into witches..” Nick said, complimenting Dani on her purple witch costume.

Dani seemed to light up at the compliment. “Thank you, and so am I. We just learned about those sisters in school.” Dani said, clearly very into her conversation with Nick, he even leaned down a bit to get to her level.

“Oh, you mean the Sanderson sisters?” Matt asked, inserting himself into the conversation. “We know all about them, our Mom used to run the museum.” He told her.

Dani’s eyes seemed to widen at the mention of a museum. “here’s a museum about ‘em?” She asked excitedly.

“Yeah, but they shut it down because a lot of spooky things happened there.” Nick said, obviously trying to spook her out a bit.

Just then an idea popped into y/ns head. “Well, why don’t we go to this old Sanderson house?” She suggested.

At the mention of this, Dani shakes her head no. Chris and his brothers look at y/n, trying to figure out if she was being for real or just messing around. “Well come on, make a believer out of me.” She challenged, knowing it was pretty much just an excuse to maybe spend some more time with Chris.

The brothers shared a couple looks, before finally speaking again, and it was Chris. “Okay, let us go change first.” Chris said. “They won’t miss me, trust me.” He said to the two before going upstairs with his brothers.

Once they were out of ear shot, Dani turned to y/n and looked up at her.“y/n, I’m not going up there. My friends at school told me all about that place. It’s weird.” She protested.

Y/n crouched down and got to her sisters level. “Dani, this is the boy of my dreams. He’s like the cutest guy at school.” She tried to explain.

“So, have him take you to the movies like a normal person.” She pleaded, but it was no use.

Y/n sighed. “Dani..Look, just do this one thing for me and I’ll do anything you say. Please? Please?!” She begged her sister. “I’m asking you this as your only sister..”

Dani thought for a moment. “Okay, okay. Next year we go trick-or-treating as Wendy and tinkerbell, with the wings, or it’s no deal.” She offered.

Y/n sighed once more, before finally giving in and compromising with her sister. “Okay, okay, deal!” She said.

A/n: omg…the support for this story is already insane…thank you so much! Hope you enjoy the first chapter!

Taglist: @keerahsturn @fratbrochrisgf @izzykinzz678 @st7rnioioss @jamiesturniolo @v33angel @kaisturni @valkatriee @sturnschrissy

[clangenrising]

Month 19 - September Gathering

Leaffall was off to a staggering start. Oddstripe had been enjoying the chilly air and the changing leaves only for the heat to come back in full force without warning. He’d been urging everyone to remember to get out of the sun and drink water in addition to eating fresh-kill for the last few days. Unfortunately, Sagetooth had come down with heat stroke while looking for fennel and even Lakepaw had exhausted herself with battle training out in the sun. 

Oddstripe applied moss to both of their foreheads as they rested in the healers’ den, saying, “Just relax and take care of yourselves. This should pass. If you need any water just call for someone and they’ll bring you some okay?” 

“You’re sure I can’t go to the gathering?” Lakepaw pouted.

“I’m sorry, dear,” he shook his head, “it’s bad timing but you have to stay and rest. There will be another gathering next moon.” 

Sagetooth, laying on her side with her eyes shut tight, asked, “Will you be alright on your own, Oddstripe?” 

“Oh, yes,” he smiled and ran a few licks over her fur. “I’m sure I can manage. It’s not like I’m doing anything anyway, I’m just going to go sit below the Cornerstones and be quiet.”

“Hmf,” Sagetooth muttered something to herself but didn’t seem to have the energy to give any further commands. Oddstripe sighed in relief. 

“Hey, dad,” Sparrowsway ducked his head into the den, “you ready to go?” 

“Yep,” smiled Oddstripe. “I was just finishing up. You two get your rest, I’ll be back later tonight.” 

“Okay…” Lakepaw stared wistfully out at the night but kept her head on her paws. Oddstripe touched his nose to Lakepaw’s ear and padded out after his son. The Gathering party was congregating on the hill as the last stragglers made their way to the group. 

Russetfrond was untangling himself from his two eager kittens. Bluekit and Yellowkit clung to his legs begging in chorus to be allowed to go with him. Oddstripe winced as he watched the patience draining from Russetfrond’s face bit by bit. 

“I already said no,” he growled firmly, wiggling his paws out of their grasp. 

Bluekit whined and plopped down on his belly looking dejected but Yellowkit leapt for his father’s paw again, giggling, and cried, “Come onnnnn! I’ll be good, I promise!” 

“Enough!” Russetfrond snapped, nipping sharply at the kit who squealed and dropped into a crouch with his ears pressed back. Russetfrond picked him up by the scruff -- which was quite the feat given how much he had grown in his four moons -- and set him beside Bluekit, saying, “You can’t even be good right now! You’d both better learn to behave before you become apprentices or you’ll be stuck on tick duty for every Gathering.” 

“Sorry, father,” Bluekit said, sitting up straight and tucking his paws close to his body. 

“Sorry,” mumbled Yellowkit, looking at the ground. 

“Speak up,” Russetfrond ordered and Yellowkit straightened up. 

“Sorry, father,” he echoed. 

“That’s better,” huffed Russetfrond. “Now behave while I’m gone and maybe I’ll catch you a special treat, alright?” Both boys nodded and Russetfrond leaned in to plant a tender lick on both of their heads. “Thank you, boys. I love you.” 

“Love you,” the kits chorused. 

“I do not envy those kits,” Aldertail whispered to Oddstripe, having come up beside him at some point. 

Oddstripe tried to push the grimace from his face and said, “No, me neither. Poor things.” 

“He means well,” Sparrowsway said with a small grimace of his own. 

“I know,” Oddstripe purred, butting up against Sparrowsway’s shoulder. Then, glancing at Aldertail, he asked, “are you sure you don’t want to come tonight?” 

“Yeah,” she nodded. “I don’t like crowds very much.” 

“Okay,” he smiled and bumped his head lightly against hers. “Enjoy your night, I’ll see you after the Gathering.” 

“‘Kay,” she blushed, shuffling her paws. “Have fun.” 

“Will do,” laughed Oddstripe and he twined his tail with Sparrowsway’s as they went to join the others. 

“Okay,” Goldenstar was saying, craning her neck to look over the crowd, “Russetfrond, Floodstrike, Scorchplume, Fogpaw, Branchbark… Ah! Oddstripe and Sparrowsay, that’s everyone. Let’s go.” 

“Have fun!” Slatepaw called after them. 

“You too!” cried Fogpaw, rearing up on her hind paws to wave goodbye. 

They made their way through the fields and over the river to the Cornerstones in the heavy evening heat. Even without the sun, the air was unseasonably warm and slightly humid, clinging to their fur like it wanted to slow them down. When they arrived, Oddstripe paused to take in the scene, enjoying the lively thrum of conversation. It seemed they were the last to arrive, all three of the other leaders sitting atop the Cornerstones already.

 “Floodstrike!” a pair of young EarthClan warriors called out and Floodstrike split off of the group to join them. Scorchplume and Fogpaw skirted the group to find a good vantage point to sit together. Branchbark waved his tail at a pair of SkyClan warriors and moved to join them.

“Aww, no Ospreymask?” one of them asked.

“Not tonight,” he said, “you’ll have to settle for me.” 

“I don’t think Pebblefall likes you like that,” laughed the other and the first warrior shoved him hard. 

“Whatever, bee brain.” 

Oddstripe chuckled to himself and turned to Sparrowsway who was standing next to him. “Go on and mingle, sweetheart.” 

“I’m alright,” said Sparrowsway, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “Why don’t I walk you to the front?”

“If you really want to,” Oddstripe said, brow furrowing with worry, “but don’t you have friends you’d rather talk to than your old man?” 

“Nah,” Sparrowsway shrugged and smiled but Oddstripe wasn’t sure he believed the expression. “I always enjoy talking with you.” 

“That’s not what I mean,” Oddstripe said as he let Sparrowsway escort him through the crowd. “You need friends who aren’t your father. It’s good for you.” 

“I’m alright,” Sparrowsway said again. “Most the cats my age are closer with Floodstrike anyway.” 

“What about Dawnbird?” Oddstripe offered. “She seems like such a polite young lady, I’m sure you’d get along well.” 

Sparrowsway pursed his lips to hide a wince. “Maybe. Seriously though, dad, I’m fine.” 

“Oh, alright,” Oddstripe chewed his lip fretfully and stopped to give Sparrowsway’s cowlick a few firm licks. “I just worry about you.”

“Don’t,” Sparrowsway laughed and ducked away from the licks. “I’m happy, dad, I really am.” 

“Okay…” Oddstripe stepped back towards the Cornerstones. “Just don’t hold yourself back from having fun, okay?”

“Okay, I won’t,” said Sparrowsway.

Deciding he would just have to be satisfied with that answer, Oddstripe turned away and padded over to where Blazingbrush and Stormwhisper were sitting near the front of the crowd. Stormwhisper brightened and twitched an ear in greeting as he approached. 

“Oh, where’s Tangletooth?” Oddstripe asked, looking around. 

“Coyotechaser said he stayed home tonight,” said Blazingbrush. “They didn’t want to risk him overexerting himself in the heat.” 

“I can’t blame them,” said Oddstripe. “Sagetooth is home with heat stroke tonight.” 

Stormwhisper inhaled worriedly through his teeth. “Stars, I hope she’s alright.” 

“She just needs some rest,” Oddstripe reassured him, “don’t worry.” Stormwhisper nodded, looking at his paws.

“Well, we might as well enjoy their absence for the night,” Blazingbrush grinned. “I mean how often do the three of us get to hang out, just us?” 

“Not often,” Stormwhisper admitted. 

Oddstripe laughed. “Why not? Let’s make the most of it.” Looking at Stormwhisper, he asked, “How are the kittens doing, by the way? They’re apprentices now aren’t they?” 

“Yeah,” nodded Stormwhisper, “Two moons in already.” 

“Oh, that’s right!” Oddstripe smiled remembering the Gathering where that had been announced, “Bluffpaw is apprenticed to Orangestar, isn’t he.” 

“That’s right,” Stormwhisper said. His expression softened as he continued, “Finchpaw and Rainpaw have been coming by lately to ask me about StarClan. I’m so glad they take the time. I miss the little beasts, even though I’m not their father or anything.” He looked at his paws again and Oddstripe couldn’t help but smile. Stars, he was terrible at hiding things. It was adorable.

“I know what you mean,” he said. “My kits grew up so fast! One day I was their whole world and then the next they were running off in all different directions -- into fights! Oh, it was terrifying -- is terrifying! But I just have to trust that StarClan is watching over them, you know?”

“Mhm,” Blazingbrush nodded. “I get so worried every time one of the apprentices comes back with even a bruise on them! There’s a reason I chose healing over battle practice.” She chuckled a bit and looked out over the crowd as if she were searching for someone and Oddstripe suddenly wondered if she had more in common with him and Stormwhisper than he had previously imagined. 

“Alright!” Snowstar’s voice pierced the air and silenced the chatter of the crowd. “I think it’s about time we get started, yes?” Oddstripe shifted his posture to look up at her, putting that line of thinking away for now.

“I’ll start the meeting off by saying that greenleaf has been good to SkyClan. Prey is running well, even as we head into leaffall the Clan is well fed. We’ve accepted some new blood into our Clan, two cats from over the mountains who have taken the names Rockylake and Hobbleheart. They’re here with us tonight and we welcome them as new members of SkyClan.” 

She gestured with her nose to a pair of cats sitting with Charredbranch and Greyvoice, a solid brown she-cat and a solid black tom. Oddtripe smiled in their direction, wondering which one was which. The crowd cheered weakly for them before quieting down again.

“Thankfully,” Snowstar said, “SkyClan has no further business. Orangestar?” 

“Thank you,” Orangestar smiled, stepping forward. “I am disappointed to say that the rogues from the city have started hunting in our forest again. Only one hunting party has been caught but at least two more have left clear signs of their trespassing on our land. That, in conjunction with the warning I’m sure we all received from RisingClan earlier this moon,” here she paused to glance at the other leaders, all of whom nodded, “I think the possibility of a continued war is not unlikely.” 

“I agree,” Goldenstar said, taking a small step forward. “It’s only a matter of time before the city cats start another fight. It would be in all of our best interests to have a plan in place for when they do.”

“What I’m hearing,” Flightstar interrupted, “is that you both don’t know how to defend your own territories against a group of kittypets.”

“These kittypets are trained fighters,” Goldenstar scowled. “You were at both of the battles we’ve had with them, you must have recognized that they’re no small threat.” 

“They have numbers,” he said dismissively, “nothing more.”

“You’re joking,” Orangestar blurted in disbelief.

“Underestimating these rogues is not helpful,” Snowstar added. “They took Darkmoon’s life, lest we forget.”

“And Darkmoon alone,” said Flightstar. 

“And Smokyrose,” Goldenstar scowled.

“Who was a mediator,” continued Flightstar stubbornly. “She could not have been difficult to overpower.” Oddstripe’s tail bristled instinctively and somewhere in the crowd he heard Fogpaw growling. The energy of the Gathering was starting to shift in a dangerous direction.

“Be careful not to speak ill of the dead,” warned Snowstar, sensing the change.

“I speak ill of no one,” Flightstar’s lip curled as he spoke. “I am simply stating the fact that these rogues are not the elite fighting force you two try to make them out to be. This all smells to me like a ploy to hunt in our territories now that leaffall is setting in and I’ll have none of it.” Tumblefang yowled her support from the middle of the crowd. 

“Look!” Stormwhisper called out, rising to his feet. “The moon!” 

With a chorus of gasps, the assembled cats threw their gazes skyward to see a cluster of wispy clouds in the early stages of choking out the moon’s light. Oddstripe stood too, eyes wide. In all his time as a healer, this had never happened, even though Sagetooth had told him stories of it before. 

“See?” Oddstripe recognized Scorchplume’s voice. “StarClan disapproves of your stubborn refusal to help the other Clans!” 

“No,” Tumblefang shouted back, “they’re sick of cats like you trying to take advantage of the rest of us!” 

“Cats like me?” Scorchplume laughed. 

“Easy,” Goldenstar said, projecting authoritatively. “We should all work to be less contentious with each other. Let’s calm down and pray we regain their favor.” 

From the east side of the clearing, a new voice cried out at the top of its lungs, “Help!” Oddstripe whipped around, Aldertail’s panicked shouts spiking fear through his chest.

“Aldertail?” Goldenstar gasped. “Aldertail, what’s going on?” 

“I-it’s the camp!” she sobbed, skidding to a halt as every eye turned in her direction. “The Exalted, th-they’re attacking the camp!” 

Russetfrond took off, leaping from his seat beside Bogmist and weaving through the crowd with a speed and purpose Oddstripe had rarely seen him use. Sparrowsway fell into step right behind him, his mentor’s dutiful second paw. 

“Fogpaw!” Scorchplume hissed as her apprentice took off after them.

“Come on,” Floodstrike looked at his friends before darting into the trees as well. Fishtrick took off after him, her ginger tail streaming out behind her, and Boldmoth stared up at Orangestar in bewilderment. Orangestar exchanged a look with Goldenstar then nodded. 

“EarthClan, let’s show those rogues what happens when they mess with warriors!” Orangestar shouted and then she and Goldenstar leapt down from the Cornerstones to follow. 

“SkyClan, likewise!” Snowstar boomed. “To war!” 

Everything was happening so fast. As more cats streamed out of the clearing, Oddstripe fought his way over to Aldertail. She was shaking, eyes shut tight, pressed down into a tiny ball on the ground. 

“Aldertail!” he cried, curling around her. “Are you alright?”

Branchbark joined them, eyes wide. “Aldertail, are you hurt?” 

“No, no,” Aldertail sobbed, shaking her head. “I ran as soon as I saw them! I’m so sorry, I’m such a coward!” 

“Oh, no!” Oddstripe pressed his head close to hers. “You came and got help! That was the right thing to do.” 

“I have to go,” Branchbark said, looking torn.

Oddstripe nodded to him. “I know. We’ll be fine, go help the others.” Branchbark nodded and bounced on his feet before taking off in a sprint. Aldertail pressed closer to Oddstripe’s side and whimpered.

Behind them, FallenClan had congregated at the base of the Cornerstones, talking in hushed voices, and Oddstripe heard Blazingbrush say, “StarClan’s sign is clear. The other Clans need our help.” 

“They have their help,” Flightstar growled. “We don’t need to get involved.” 

“What if our warriors make the difference between victory and defeat?” asked Ryestripe. 

“If they were better at defending their borders, they wouldn’t be in this situation in the first place,” spat Tumblefang. 

“What does that have to do with anything?” Ryestripe growled back. 

“Enough!” Flightstar snapped. “We’re going home. Anyone who wants to go to RisingClan’s camp can stay there permanently, understood?” There was a long pause then he stormed off into the woods in the opposite direction as the rest of the cats had gone. One by one, the FallenClan warriors followed him. 

Blazingbrush stared after her Clanmates, mouth open. “But-” She looked at the deputy, the last cat to go, and said, “Pigeoncover- You have to convince him! Surely, we can’t just do nothing!” 

Pigeoncover stood still for a beat, not looking at her. Then they softly said, “You’re already on thin ice, Blazingbrush. It would be best if you came along.” Blazingbrush looked like she had been struck. Still unable to meet her gaze, Pigeoncover slank into the woods after their father, leaving Blazingbrush, Oddstripe, and Aldertail alone in the clearing together. 

Oddstripe wanted to go to the other healer but he didn’t want to tear himself away from Aldertail’s shaking body. He opened his mouth but Blazingbrush looked at him and the words escaped his mind. They looked at each other for a long, hollow moment. 

“I’m so sorry,” Blazingbrush said. 

“It’s okay,” Oddstripe replied. “I understand.” 

Blazingbrush swallowed and bowed her head in defeat as she trailed after her Clanmates. Oddstripe took a deep breath and let it out slowly. As he did, he sent a silent prayer to StarClan.Let this be enough, he prayed. Let everyone survive. Guide their claws and deliver them from their enemies. Please, let it be enough.