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autisticlancemcclain · 1 year ago

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A shrill beep breaks his focus, and for it he nearly gets sliced in the eye.

He just barely manages to dodge the Gladiator’s blade, ducking under its sword and rolling towards his jacket and boots, crumpled on the floor. He digs out his comm, as quickly as he can with the Gladiator hot on his tail, and glances at the new message. It’s from Lance.

sharpshooter:

keith where tf are u

sharpshooter:

please know if u miss yet another meeting i am going to kick ur ass

sharpshooter:

better yet i’m gonna have allura kick ur ass bc she actually can

sharpshooter:

know that it will be painful

Keith rolls his eyes, dropping his comm and feigning left just as the Gladiator stabs right through where his head was milliseconds prior. No longer worried that he’s missing something important, he throws himself back into the fight, matching his breathing to the clash of his sword against the Gladiator’s, the steady taps of their feet on the floor as they move, the rapid beat of his own heart. It’s easy to sink into the movement, the adrenaline; to stop thinking.

Thinking is dangerous. Thinking is painful. Thinking reminds him only of how much he’s lost, how much he’s falling short. None of that is helpful. The weight of his sword in his hand, the smell of sweat and metal, the harsh white lights of the training room — all that is helpful. All that is real.

“Kogane, you are the most irritating person in space. And that’s saying a lot, because I’m here, and I specialize in being irritating.”

The Gladiator freezes mid strike, then fades into pixels. The harsh lights dim.

Keith turns around with a scowl. Lance matches it, standing right beside the training room kill switch, arm crossed and jaw set defiantly.

“I’m trying to train, Lance.”

“No need. You’ve reached peak levels of infuriating. No more training necessary.”

Keith rolls his eyes so hard it hurts, jogging over to his water bottle and chugging half of it before dropping to the floor and doing push-ups. Whatever. Lance may have shut down the Gladiator, but Keith can train in other ways. He’ll just turn it back on when Lance leaves.

“Oh, you fucking —”

Before he can fully register what’s happening, a sharp wooshing noise gets louder, and he rolls out of the way seconds before a sword flies by his head and imbeds itself in the wall.

A very, very familiar sword, white with red accents.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Keith shouts, but Lance is already sprinting to grab his bayard, face impassive.

Keith scrambles to his feet, lunging for his own blade, barely managing to activate it and hold it in front of him to block Lance’s oncoming strike. The force of the blow is so powerful it sends a painful ripple down his arms.

Lance is just barely smirking.

“If it’s a fucking fight you want than you’ll get it,” Keith growls, spinning out of the way and putting some distance between them, adjusting his stance and tensing his shoulders.

“I don’t want a fight, douchebag. But obviously talking like grownups is too hard for your tiny little brain, so I’m going to explain this in a way you can understand.”

“You’re really shitty at one-liners,” Keith points out, aiming a thrust at Lance’s left hip, which he always leaves open.

To Keith’s delight, Lance’s smirk drops. “That’s because one-liners are stupid!” he says defensively, barely managing to swerve to the side in time to avoid serious damage. He retaliates by swinging his longsword like it’s a fucking bat, and Keith’s head is a baseball, because Lance is allergic to the real swordfighting techniques Keith has attempted to teach him. And also peanuts, but that’s not helpful right this second. “I only have one line to destroy you emotionally! Truly devastating burns are multi-layered, which is why you can never come up with them, you one-dimensional oreo thinnie!”

Keith grunts, sidestepping Lance’s attempt to stab his foot and clashing his sword at the base of Lance’s, right near the hilt, trying to disarm him. It works, but only because Lance anticipated the move, and as his sword is bent from his hand he does some sort of twisting manoeuvre with his wrist and manages to catch it, somehow. It’s infuriating.

“I stopped listening twelve percent into your sentence.”

“Well, you do that a lot, so colour me unsurprised.”

The unfiltered bitterness in Lance’s voice throws him for a loop, distracts him. He blinks, thrown-off, head out of the game.

“What?”

His distractedness costs him. Faster than he can fully track, Lance hooks his foot around Keith’s ankle, sweeping his legs out from under him, and then shoves him to the floor, pinning his wrists above his head, knee to Keith’s navel, sword to his throat. Keith tries to struggle, to either buck Lance off or angle his own sword, still clenched in his hand, back up to Lance, but he’s exhausted — he’s been training since he woke up this morning. Lance has him at a disadvantage.

“You are being a massive douchebag dumbass loser,” Lance says, panting. “I am fighting the urge to kill you for real.”

“Maybe don’t,” Keith suggests, suddenly very aware of the position they’re in and how easily Lance could drive his sword through Keith’s skull. He knows Lance won’t, or else he’d be struggling way more, but the way Lance is eyeing his own sword is certainly not helping.

Lance sighs. “We need to take a break, Keith.”

Keith frowns. “What?”

Lance sighs again, shifting off of Keith and standing, offering his hand. Keith takes it, pulling himself up, and then follows Lance over to the wall, sitting down next to him.

“What?” he repeats, when Lance doesn’t say anything for several minutes.

Lance shifts to face him, and for the first time Keith really notices the bags under his eyes, the sag of his shoulders. “We need to take a break,” he repeats. “All of us. The team. We need to do something that isn’t this —” he spreads his arm, gesturing to their swords and then between them — “all the time. We need a vacation.”

“No.” Keith barely lets him finish. He gets back to his feet, picking up his sword and heading back towards the system modulator, flipping through the different training modules. Lance follows him immediately.

“Keith —”

“No, Lance,” Keith repeats, fists clenching the edge of the computer. “This is a fucking war. There are no vacations. End of discussion.”

Lance mutters something in Spanish, too fast for Keith to pick up, but he clearly hears a few repeated instances of “cabrón”, and “comemierda”, and “tonto terco idiota que va a hacer que nos maten a todos”, none of which he can translate but he’s pretty sure he gets the general message.

“Keith.” Lance wraps an arm around Keith’s wrist, tugging him away from the training computer. “I cannot possibly understand the pain you are going through. Nothing I have ever gone through can possibly be the same as how it feels to lose a brother. For the second time, for fuck’s sake. I know that.”

Keith clenches his jaw, swallowing the lump in his throat at the mere mention of Shiro. He itches to yank his hand away, boot up the Gladiator again, and train and train and train until he can’t hear his thoughts anymore.

But he doesn’t.

“But you’re not alone in this, man,” Lance continues. Keith turns to glare at him — what a fucking crock of cliched bullshit — but Lance holds his gaze, steady and firm. “Pidge knows exactly what you’re going through. Allura, too. Hell, even Coran. That’s three separate people who understand every single thing you’re going through right now. Intimately.”

That brings Keith up short. “It’s not the same,” Keith insists anyway. “Plus it — it doesn’t matter. What good is talking out our feelings going to do? That’s not going to fuckin’ find him. I’m only going to find him if I keep working.”

“Really interesting that you say that,” Lance says flatly. “I had this exact conversation with Pidge last night, as I was attempting to force her to get some sleep.”

Keith feels something like guilt build up deep in his stomach.

“Oh.”

“Yeah. And it’s one thing for me to mother hen the fifteen year old, but it’s a whole other, weirdly Freudian thing for me to mother hen you, the grownup leader who is supposed to be guiding the team and not a giant headass who is doing intensely stupid shit like ignoring team meetings and training to the point where he passes out.”

“In my defense, the daily team meetings are dumb,” Keith mutters, because apparently he wants Lance to kick him out the airlock.

Luckily, Lance only smiles wryly. “You’re lucky I’m endlessly benevolent and I’m going to let that slide. Come sit down, asshole. You missed today’s meeting because you were busy being emo, but we’ll have a small meeting now. A co-leaders meeting.”

Keith relents, sitting next to Lance on the floor, back to the wall as Lance sits criss-cross-applesauce in front of him.

“Okay. Vacation. Necessary.”

“Counterpoint. We all manage our schedules better and have some free time, and don’t waste our time spending who knows how long doing nothing.”

“Counter counter point. We do both of those things or I mutiny.”

Lance does not appear to be joking even a little. When it’s clear that Keith isn’t going to speak any further, he sighs.

“Look,” he says, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I know that the idea of not doing something for a day is kind of stressful. But…saving the world is a massive bummer, dude. Being on this lonely ass castle in the middle of empty space is a bummer. Chasing a walking purple L’Oreal commercial who is also a homicidal maniac is a bummer. Eating in silence during team dinners is a bummer. Trying to force Pidge and Hunk to step away from their tech for a few hours to sleep and eat and shower is a bummer. Dragging Allura away from the briefing room is a bummer. Making sure you don’t work yourself to death is a bummer. Being the red paladin, if I’m being a thousand percent honest, right now, is a bummer. I’m bummed, dude.”

Despite himself, Keith smiles slightly. Lance grins back, tired and a tad condescending but also fond.

“I got it, Lance.”

“Excellent. I even dumbed it down so it would not escape you.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“You know what would make me less of an asshole?”

“A vacation?” Keith guesses.

“Ding ding ding! Vacation is the answer.” Lance reaches forward, grabbing Keith’s water bottle straight from his hands and taking a swig. “And since you decided to ditch the daily briefing, you get to make it up to me today by convincing the rest of the team to agree and also agreeing to whatever vacation spot I choose.”

“I will agree to one of those things.”

Lance laughs, bright and happy, and it sends such a startling zap of energy and relief through Keith’s entire body that he’s kicking himself for making it so rare, as of late.

“Oh, Mullet, you are so naive.”

Lance gets to his feet, offering his hand to Keith again. This time, when Keith takes it, he holds on for a moment — he smiles at Lance, tired but genuine. Lance smiles back, knocking their shoulders together.

It’s nice to be back on the same page.

———

Keith thinks he reserves the right to complain, honestly.

Well, maybe not. He did work everyone pretty hard. And he is glad that Lance finally convinced him (if threatening to mutiny can be called convincing) to go on vacation, even though you couldn’t waterboard that out of him.

“If you complain even one more time I am going to draw a massive dick with the sunscreen where you can’t reach,” Lance says pleasantly, squirting what Keith would call a massive excess of Altean SPF 900 onto his hands (alien suns are a little more deadly. Who knew). He slaps it on Keith’s back, slathering it with absolutely zero care and an abundance of glee.

It doesn’t make Keith smile. It doesn’t.

“I’ll just wear a shirt until the sunburn fades. Complaining is worth it.”

Lance only hums, working in the cream. It starts to feel good, his cold fingers digging into the knots on Keith’s back. It feels so good, in fact, that Keith lets his guard down.

Rookie mistake if he’s ever made one.

One second he’s sat on the warm sand, tension melting from his shoulders, and the next he’s fucking airborne; Lance picking him up by the waist and throwing him over broad swimmers shoulders.

“Lance!” he screeches, pounding on the red paladin’s back, “fucking let me down! Dickhead!”

Lance is cackling loudly, picking up speed and jogging for the — icy cold! Keith knows! — waves. The rest of the team looks in their direction, but Keith loses any hope of their aid when they all burst out laughing.

“All of you are the worst!” Keith cries, but he can’t deny that it’s nice to hear their laughter again.

It’s been a while.

Still, though, Keith is not going down without a fight. As he and his captor get closer and closer to a watery doom (Keith has never been dramatic even a day in his life), Keith really starts to struggle. He throws his whole body weight to one side, making Lance stumble. He aims an elbow to the Cuban’s ear, but before his hit can land, he hears a voice shout: “Oh, no you don’t!”

Three things happen in quick succession.

One. Lance whoops in triumph.

Two. A curtain of white hair flashes towards him, and yet another arm grabs him around the waist.

Three. He drops, and water colder than the fucking glacial arctic seas envelops him entirely.

He comes back up sputtering, glaring a thousand daggers at Allura.

“You’ll pay for that,” he informs her.

“Ha!” She looks down at him smugly, hands on her hips and one eyebrow raised to her hairline. “Good luck with that.”

Keith doesn’t hesitate before tackling her into the waves.

It doesn’t take long after that for things to devolve into chaos. Hunk happily follows Allura and Lance’s examples, scooping up Pidge — to her rage — and Coran — to his delight — under one arm each, tossing them in the water like neither weighs particular more to him than perhaps a bunch of grapes.

(Dear Lord. If Keith were not so gone on Lance’s ass…)

As much as he tries to deny it, Keith has fun. Very quickly Lance organizes a game of chicken, climbing up Keith’s body like a particularly aggravating monkey (something Keith is happy to tell him) and settling on his shoulders, thighs bracketing his head and ankles crossed at his abdomen.

Keith goes so violently red that he’s genuinely kind of shocked that he can turn that colour.

“Squeeze any tighter, Lance, and Keefers over there is going to evaporate the entire ocean,” Pidge says drily.

Keith does not wait for her to get situated on Coran’s shoulders. He charges.

Despite his brain relaying a constant stream of Oh God Lance’s thighs are wrapped around your head holy shit he’s sitting on your shoulders and he’s barely dressed his fucking legs are so long why are they so long does he have to be this attractive is that even possible what the fuck is the deal with that, he manages to put his full attention into going absolutely ham. He charges, dodges, leaps and bounds, intent on being the winning team of this ridiculous but admittedly fun game.

Allura and Hunk dominate. Easily. It’s barely even a competition. They dunk everyone else so many times that they have to plead for mercy.

Still, Keith has a huge smile on his face by the time everyone peels off and cools down.

“There it is,” Lance says, poking him on the cheek.

Keith bats his hands away. “No idea what you’re talking about.”

But Lance is undeterred by his gruffness. He smiles, fondly, rolling his eyes, then bounds away with a random bucket to the shoreline, likely to look for cool seashells.

Keith is so endeared that it’s honestly a little sickening. Never in his life has he been so attached to the whims to another person.

He doesn’t hate it, somehow.

“If you keep building the habit of watching your red paladin so lovingly, you may be accused of favouritism in the near future,” Coran teases, taking a seat next to him on the sand.

Keith flushes. Your red paladin rings in his ears.

“I don’t watch him like that,” he denies loudly.

“You do so,” pipes up the peanut gallery, also known as Pidge Holt, without so much as glancing up from her, Hunk’s, and Allura’s massive sandcastle. Honestly, sandcastle might not be the right word for it. The magnificent undertaking is significantly larger and significantly prettier than his dingy shack from back home.

“You’re fired,” Keith shoots back. Pidge only rolls her eyes, reaching over and smashing one of the sand figures standing on the castle.

“I just killed sand Keith for your insolence. Beg for my forgiveness or I won’t rebuild you.”

The two of them continue to bicker until Allura throws clumps of sand at them to get them to shut up.

“Aw, the sand got stuck in my sunscreen,” Keith pouts. He tries to rub it off, but it only scrapes his skin off with it, so he gives up. “You’re the worst!”

“I’m going to put more sand in your hair,” Allura says mildly. She scoops up a handful. Keith holds a bucket of water up in front of him in defense.

Before an all out war can be restarted, Hunk stills, looking up from his intricate castle-building with a furrowed brow.

“Hey, speaking of sunscreen, where’s Lance? He can usually be relied upon to snootily inform anyone who will listen about UV rays and skin cancer every hour.”

“He went to go find seashells.”

Hunk’s brow furrows. “And he’s not back yet? It’s been a bit. Do you think he got lost?”

“Let’s go look for him,” Keith says, scrambling to his feet immediately. His heartbeat picks up slightly, ‘Lance’ and ‘lost’ ringing through his head like disjointed echoes. He’s already halfway down the sand by the time he registers the voices around him, hears the calling of his name, feels a steady hand on his shoulder.

“He’s not lost,” Coran says kindly. His green eyes are wrought with pain and empathy and understanding alike, reminding Keith of Lance’s earlier words. Reminding him that his family truly does understand his pain, truly does know him, get him. Coran’s hand squeezes once, and Keith takes a deep breath, smiling slightly back at him, covering his hand briefly with his own.

“Okay.”

Still, the six of them walk down the shoreline faster than they would normally, figuring safe is better than sorry.

“Hey, look.” Pidge points at a small purple critter scuttling across the sand. “Does that thing look like it’s in a hurry to you?”

“I think all crabs kind of look like they’re in a hurry,” Hunk reasons.

Allura smiles slightly, snapping his hands. “It’s the snappiness to their movements.”

Just as they speak, however, another crab scurries along, and then another. Soon dozens of them are visible, digging themselves out of the sand or hopping out of the water, then hurrying down the shoreline like whatever their chasing is about to run out. Eventually the crowd of crabs get so thick that it’s almost impossible to walk without gently sweeping several of them aside to make room for their feet.

“Oh, hey, guys!”

A few yards in front of them, sat cross cross applesauce on the sand, surrounded by hundreds of little crabs, is Lance. In front of him is the bucket he had left with and a sponge-like chunk of seaweed. He grins sunnily at them, so widely that the brown of his eyes is hidden, they crinkle so much, and returns his attention to the bucket. He holds his hand out to one of the many crabs chittering around them, waiting for it to crawl on, then gently lowers it into the bucket, using the spongey seaweed to scrub its shell.

“I’m giving the crabs baths!” The little crab in the bucket seems to wiggle, almost, in some kind of glee, waiting for Lance to finish, pat it on the head, and set it down on the sand before scuttling away.

“You’re bathing,” says Pidge incredulously, “aquatic sand bugs.”

“Some of them have a lot of barnacle buildup,” Lance says primly.

“We thought you went missing,” Keith blurts. He can’t quite keep the fear out of his voice, that built up as soon as he’d realized that Lance was gone, fear that comes out as anger. He regrets it as soon as it comes out, bracing himself for the set to Lance’s jaw and and the defensiveness in his jaw. But to his surprise Lance only softens, holding a crab out to Keith. He takes it on reflex, blinking at it in confusion. The crab blinks back.

“I did not,” Lance promises. “But I was looking for shells, and then I saw Jorge flipped upside down, so I helped him, and then we were chilling, and then I noticed he was walking funny because of a barnacle buildup on his leg, so I asked him if he wanted me to get it off, and he didn’t answer but he was cool to hop in the bucket so I cleaned him off. And then Carmen showed up so I polished her up, and then Amelia, then Hunk Two —”

“You named a crab after me?” Hunk interrupts, visibly touched.”

Lance nods matter-of-factly. “Strong and sunset coloured. All of you have crab buddies. Look.” He scoops up six crabs from his lap, showing the Hunk-crab first, then showing three other crabs in order: a teeny-tiny dark green one with black marks around its eyes, a bright pink one that sparkles when it moves, and an orange one with markings around its mouth. “Pidge-crab, Allura-crab, Coran-crab.” Finally he holds out his hand to the crab that has been sitting protectively on his head, burrowed in his curls. It takes a moment, but eventually the little thing begrudgingly steps from the safety of Lance’s hair and into his cupped hand. He brings it carefully down, giving it an exaggerated smooch on the head.

“This one is Keith-crab,” he says. “Because it is all emo coloured and likes me best.” Lance looks up at him and grins. “I am your absolute favourite all the time, right, Mullet?”

Keith knows Lance is teasing. Obviously. Evident in the way the rest of the team is snickering to themselves, no doubt remembering the years of arguing they’ve witnessed.

But still. Keith feels lightheaded.

“Yeah,” he chokes out, bright red. There’s a beat of silence that stretches out for twelve years, then Pidge guffaws, Hunk bites his lip, and Allura straight up loses it. Even Coran hides a smile in his hand.

“What the fuck, Keith,” Lance says, strangled. His face glows worse than Keith’s does. “You’re not supposed to admit it.”

“Would it be so bad?“ Keith erupts, voice cracking. “So what you’re my favourite? There’s no way you didn’t know! I let you get away with everything! You threatened to shove a sword through my skull yesterday and I didn’t even put you in a chokehold about it!”

Lance makes a long, anguished noise, setting the crab down with great care before burying his face in his hands. “You’re so embarrassing,” he moans. “You don’t have an ounce of rizz in your body. None.”

Keith sputters. “What does that even mean!”

“It means he liiiiiiikes yooooouuuu,” Pidge crows. Allura makes kissy faces.

And, well. Pidge cannot be trusted. She has openly and gleefully informed him that lying for fun is one of her favourite hobbies, especially when Keith is at the other end of her clowning.

But Lance is still trying to shrink back into himself, embarrassed. And he always finds an excuse to have his hands on Keith, somehow. And Keith hangs out with him more than anyone else, honestly.

Keith turns to Lance, hopeful. “You do?”

Lance points at him, glaring. “This does not count. You hear me?”

Keith grins, rocking back on his heels. “I’m not sure.” Lance scowls. Keith genuinely feels like he might be floating, so long as he ignores his asshole friends. “You might have to spell it out for me.”

“You talk to me properly,” Lance lists. “When we are alone. Play it up and wax poetic and — I dunno, flowers or something. You figure it out. I refuse to have this be how I find out you have feelings for me.”

“I mean, I was never really hiding it.”

“I’ll divorce you, Keith, I swear to God.”

Humming, Keith leans close, careful of the crabs, and presses a kiss to Lance’s cheek. At the last second Lance turns his head, catching his lips and kissing him properly. His smile is wide and shy.

“Sure, Sharpshooter.”

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ihavethedreamies · 5 months ago

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From Afar | What the Heart Wants (1)

Qian Kun & Nakamoto Yuta (NCT)

Rating: Suggestive (18+) MDNI

Nothing explicitly is said or done, but sexual interactions are implied.

The beginning of this story has the reader underaged, but nothing happens or is implied to happen before she turns 18.

Word Count: ~14.2k

Pairing(s): Kun x AFAB!Reader x Yuta, the primary pairing is Kun x Reader, but it's kinda both for the first part.

Genre: Reader-Insert, Altered History AU!, Royalty AU!, Plot! (wow), Fluff? (not for sure that's what to call this), not quite smut (yet), Angst (but angry)

!!There are mature themes discussed…if that much isn't clear you should probably leave now!! MDNI!

Warnings: She/Her pronouns used, Arranged Marriage (ish), Harems/Multiple Wives (more fiancées…), Bullying (see Caution), Some Swearing, Borderline Misogyny/Sexism (you'll see, not from the boys, just like…society), Favoritism, Love Triangle, Jealousy, Pining, One-Sided Crush/Infatuation (or is it?)

Caution: This story is a bit darker than my normal stuff. There isn't bullying throughout, just one intense scene. It's not in a school setting, but I do want to warn anyone reading this that it could be triggering. I'll be real and admit that there is definitely toxicity here, and I know that's what it is, I try to be realistic with my stuff. There is also a part where the reader has a severe allergic reaction, so if that is something that is hard for you to read, be aware. Please let me know if you think I need to add in any more specific warnings or cautions.

Author's Note: This is based off of a dream I had while I took a nap a bit back. I changed some details because what happened in the dream was a little too unrealistic. But, most of it is pretty much the same. I have a lot of Kun dreams, but most of them I can't write a story with because there are weird cross-overs with my real life and often the video game Mass Effect (lol), so…

P.S. Kun is my Ultimate Bias and so…I held back for so long of going down the rabbit hole because I knew I wouldn't be able to crawl out once I did. I am working on another much longer series so that's why I don't have much posted for him yet since I want to get it mostly done before I post any of it.

P.S.S. The reader has a bad allergy to coconut, which is one I have. So, it might seem a bit extreme with her reaction to it, but I know from personal experience how bad I can be with it. I haven't had the same thing happen though.

I split this into two different parts because I hate reading a long story, and then the app or page somehow gets closed, and then you have to scroll to find your spot… The second part is just smut, literally just the smut part, but it was so long I needed to separate the two parts.

Part 2: Up Close (Smut)

I am cross-posting this on Archive and Wattpad. 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 sites. Happy reading!

Your life seemed to end before it really began. Things like harems for royalty and royalty itself should be in history books and old stories, not modern times. Yet here you were. Historians often talk about how much different the eastern world might look had Japan been successful in taking Korea nearly 100 years prior. Would they have ruled East Asia rather than the Korean Monarchy? Would China be its own country still? Siam? All you knew is that if World War II had gone much differently, you wouldn't be in the situation you were.

In order to keep the commoners and everyday folks of each country of the Korean Empire in line, the Emperor would marry a noblewoman from each land, therefore forming his Harem. When he was a prince, he had his little group of girls that followed him around and did everything with him, almost like some kind of harem anime or even American dating show. One would be picked to be his 'main wife' and the rest were concubines. That's what you were. Well, almost. You were 'in training' to be a possible concubine or wife. The king had five wives, and a son with each woman. The eldest was Taeyong, from the king's first Korean wife; then Prince Yuta, whose mother was Japanese; third born was Prince Kun, from a Chinese mother; second youngest was Prince Ten with a Siamese mother. His birthname was not used very often since most people didn't know how to pronounce it, and finally the youngest Prince was Prince Doyoung. His mother was Korean as well and since he was the youngest, he had the least responsibilities. Not necessarily in a bad way, but he was quite lazy and didn't go out very often. Each prince had a symbol that then was used to name his girls. Taeyong's was a rose and so his girls were The Petals. Yuta's was the Cherry Tree, so his girls were The Sakura. Kun's was a Bear, and his girls were The Ursas. Ten's symbol was a cat and his girls, The Tabbies. Finally, Doyoung's symbol was a rabbit, so his girls were The Bunnies. The name he chose somewhat showed how little he cared for formality. It was too much effort, and he was actually considered the best prince to follow. None of the princes were bad, though, it was simply that Doyoung was the least strict, and there were less rules overall. Taeyong's group was the most prestigious since he was the Crown Prince, and so it was hard to stay in The Petals.

Many different things could make a girl leave or get kicked out. It was pretty easy to get kicked out actually, but most of the time it was by the other girls. Jealousy and competition were rampant, but if sabotage or cheating was ever even just suspected, you were out. Each prince got their initial set at the age of eighteen, and the girls would be at the most two years younger, never older. So, when Prince Yuta hit the proper age, they sent out the search committee. Your father had told you as a little girl that he would never, no matter how much money was offered, let you go. Unfortunately, he didn't get to make the decision because he passed two years prior. Your mother couldn't manage the family estate and business well either, so she remarried, and of course your stepfather was more than willing to hand you over. You never learned how much he was paid, but you knew, to him, it was more than you were worth.

There were always five girls, two from Korea and one from China, Japan, and Siam as well. When you were escorted to the royal palace, you looked up at the tall arch allowing entry onto the grounds. Due to historical preservation laws, no one actively lived in the palace, but there was a modern campus built for the royal family. The guards let the fancy black car you were being escorted in through and it continued down the road past the elegantly preserved palace. Finally, after nearly five minutes of driving, the vehicle stopped in front of what appeared to be an extremely fancy hotel. You were told the main estate was further into the campus and was where the King and Queen lived with the Concubines. Where you were to live was where the princes and all of their entourages lived. Shakily, you got out of the car when it came to a stop, the heels of your black Mary Jane's clicking on the stone pavement. Your suitcases were removed from the trunk, and they went off to your room as you were led down the opposite hallway. Looking around at your surroundings, the building felt less like a royal residence and more of a luxury apartment building, there were even a few restaurants. Finally, after a long walk in very uncomfortable shoes, you were told to enter a large ballroom and you stood in line with what seemed to be twenty other girls. That was a surprise, you thought for sure you had already been chosen. While you wanted to pray you wouldn't be chosen, you also feared being sent back to your stepfather. Your soft yellow and white dress was probably just as expensive as the other girls’ but seemed much plainer. Standing straight, trying to remember your etiquette training, the line of girls all did the same, stiffening when a door on the other side of the ball room entered. At least, you thought it was a ballroom. There was a stage on the opposite wall and that was it. No tables or chairs, nothing. You felt the girls to your left and right turn their heads to try and see who entered, but you just stared ahead. The three people that entered stopped in the middle of the room, a bit to your left since you were toward the end of the line. The other girls were whispering, and curiosity took over and your eyes flicked to look at them. It was a servant, most likely since he was in a butler's outfit, a man in a business suit, and who you assumed to be the prince. He was beautiful, and that was an objective fact. His dark brown hair was longer, hitting his shoulders and he had it tied back into a half-ponytail. He was not dressed like a prince really; he had on a black T-shirt or tank top with a soft-looking grey sweater over it. He was in jeans and sneakers, and you looked down at your dress, then at the others. You were sixteen, but you felt like a little girl then, with your high-collared, long-sleeved white button-up with a yellow sundress over top. Though, it seemed he preferred casual, and you were the closest to that. His stance was casual as well, arms behind his back, leaning his weight on one leg as he lightly swayed, looking over the line of girls. The servant cleared his throat, and it was like some kind of primal instinct took over, and you placed your hands together over your stomach, and bowed low. No one else did. Panic set in when you realized this, hearing the other girls whispering. Now too nervous to stand back up, you pressed your lips together, but stayed bowed.

"It seems she was the only one raised correctly." A new voice, a woman's, cut in and you heard another person walk in. The woman stopped in front of you, and you only saw the bottom of her dress and shoes, she was dressed in the traditional dark green and blue hanbok.

"You may look up, dear." She prompted and you straightened, looking up slightly at the much older woman. Her hair was graying at the roots, but she was still quite beautiful. Her hair was tied back in a bun with a simple wooden pin and you swallowed under her sharp gaze.

"Prince Yuta, please come here." Her tone changed, and she bowed, stepping to the side and you froze as he left his original position and strode over to you. He stopped before you and you dropped your gaze. Don't look at his face. That was clearly something no one else learned and you were a bit worried about that, though, his handmaiden seemed pleased with you. Didn't mean he would be.

"How old are you?" His voice was soft, deeper than you thought it would be.

"Sixteen, your highness." Your hands still rested over each other, flat against your stomach and you tried not to flinch when his finger went to your chin. He lifted your head, but your eyes stayed down, no matter how badly you wanted to look at his face better.

"Look at me." He prompted and you obeyed. He was even more attractive up close, more handsome than you thought, still pretty. He tipped his head and a similarly pretty smile spread on his face.

"Her."

After that, you were quickly whisked away.

"What will happen with the other girls?" You asked the maid that was taking your measurements after you reached some sort of dressing room.

"He will pick the other nine and you will begin training." The same older woman from before entered then and you nodded jerkily, trying to process everything.

"Training?"

"It seems you have begun on etiquette already, unlike the other girls. That will help. Ten girls will start and after your four years the final five will graduate up. You will all learn everything you need to, to be a good woman of the royal family and possibly a future princess."

"I see." The same maid began holding up different swatches of fabric next to your face, flipping through different colors. Seemingly making a decision, the maid nodded to the head handmaiden, and you stepped off the small pedestal you had been set on.

"Let us go child, I will escort you to the dormitory."

~*~*~

Over the next four years, as you were told, you trained. Ten girls all lived in a four-bedroom apartment, three in two, and two in two. It was miserable. You really didn't mind the training and tutoring itself, it was the clique-like mentality the girls had even within the dorm. Let alone in the other training groups. You felt like an outlier the whole time but staying quiet and laying low helped. You yourself were not bullied, but you weren't friends with the other girls either. Not in any of the groups. Prince Taeyong's girls were a few months ahead of your group and the other three were not even a year younger. The eldest prince was only about four months older than Yuta, and he was only a month, maybe two, older than Kun. The youngest were each a month after. It seemed the King had gotten to work quickly…

For the first year you almost never saw any of the princes, not even Yuta. It seemed the first year was really used to weed out girls, and that was when some of the original twenty made a return. If one of the ten got kicked out or left, they replaced her. That was not what you expected at all, but it seemed you were relatively safe. You only got one demerit over the first year, and it was minor. The rules were strict and after your first dink you never messed up again. What did you mess up? You forgot to put in your earrings before the morning check.

After the second year, you would have more interactions with Prince Yuta, and sometimes the others. That was when you first met the third-born Prince. Kun. Your eyes widened when you saw him, it was like some kind of rose-colored filter hung around him. He was…perfect. You weren't sure exactly what drew you to him so heavily, but it was nearly backbreaking, the weight of your crush. It didn't help that your infatuation was with the completely wrong prince. Most of the girls were good at staying loyal to their boy, and if they weren't, that was grounds for expulsion. It was your first true hinderance and possible snare. The only one, really. Luckily, he wasn't around too often in the second year. For no reason, really, you hated the girls in his group. They were so incredibly fortunate in your eyes and didn't realize how much so. Was Yuta bad? Not in any way, shape or form. He was extremely sweet and kind, generous…but he wasn't Kun. To you, that was his greatest sin. Your obsession was a bit worrying, honestly. Though the girls were given a therapist they could talk with, she was there for things like homesickness and anxiety. Not near yandere-levels of love for a Prince not their own. Okay…it wasn't that bad, but you feared that if your mind ever got too weak, if you broke, it would be that bad. When third year rolled around… It got so much worse. The princes did a lot of things together and if a girl made it to year three, then she got to as well. On the new year of year three, the girls remaining were the final ones. One could leave, but she wouldn't be replaced. So, what most often happened, is the gaggle of fifty girls would each take turns with which five would go on an outing with their prince. What killed you about those, was when you were picked, and Kun would be there. It was hard to keep your wistful stares off of him and you prayed he would stick near Yuta for as long as possible, so you could look at him all the more. He was what most considered to be the handsome one among the half-brothers. Taeyong was what the girls defined as cute-hot. Could be either. Yuta was handsome-pretty, Ten was just pretty and Doyoung was just cute. Kun was handsome to the rest, but to you he was also the cutest, prettiest, and hottest. He was by no means buff, but he was able to build the most muscle tone out of all of them and you couldn't help but stare when his pants were just the right amount of tight around his thighs. When you finally got close enough to really look at him the first time, you cataloged every little feature you could. Especially the beauty mark under his right eyebrow.

~*~*~

You were truly a goner when you attended a causal tennis game the princes were engaging in. Doyoung sat off the side with his girls, and they were literally playing some kind of board or card game instead. You sat with the four other Sakuras on a bench, not even watching the tennis ball fly between Yuta and Taeyong's rackets. You were staring off into the distance, messing with a stray string at the top of your knee-high socks. If the head handmaid saw it… Wrapping your finger around it tight, you yanked to try and pull it away, the elastic tightening with each tug. You were so preoccupied with your sock that you didn't even hear the warning call, but something thunked against the back of your head. You yelped, falling forward off the bench, managing to catch yourself with your hands, but you scraped your knees up badly on the court-floor.

"Hiyomi!" Yuta immediately called and was at your side. You weren't even sure if you would have known he was calling you if he had said your real name. You hadn't heard it in such a long time.

"Good job!" Ten shouted sarcastically and you heard another come to your side.

"Hey, you okay?" Yuta helped you sit up a bit, letting your rest your forehead on his shoulder as he looked at the back of your head.

"I'm so sorry, Hiyomi." Your body froze when the other person's voice seemed to speak right in your ear and another hand rested on your upper back.

"Does it hurt there?" You hadn't even realized Yuta had pressed on your neck at the base of your head. He must have taken your sudden rigidity as a pain response. Carefully, slightly, you turned your head so you could glance out of the side of your eye, through your hair, at a red shirt. Only one of the princes was in a red shirt that day. You were sure your face turned about that same shade when you realized the other boy so close to you was Kun, and that the hand on your back was his.

"Hiyomi?" Yuta prompted again and you flinched back to reality.

"Uh, no." Your own hand came up to run over your head, wincing as you felt the small bump forming under your hair. The hand left your back and you felt Yuta move your hair so he could see where you pressed. You gasped when Kun's hand came back, his fingers gently running over the bump.

"She should probably go to the infirmary." The younger prince decided, and Yuta hummed in agreement.

"I'm so sorry, Hiyomi." He apologized again, and even though it was your alias, hearing him speak your name twisted your insides around.

"I-It's okay." You were too scared to lift your head as Yuta helped you stand, knowing that if you met Kun's gaze then you would fall back to your knees.

"Come on, sweetheart." Yuta wrapped an arm around you so he could lead you toward the building and you felt the glares of your team boring through you. It was evident even before then that Yuta favored you, and it made the girls mad. You never made more of an effort to woo him like they did, you just lived your life naturally, and that seemed to be what appealed to him.

"I guess the nurse isn't here right now." Yuta had helped you sit on the edge of one of the two cot-like beds and then he kneeled in front of you.

"Do you mind if help with your knees?" He had noticed the scrapes, and you shook your head with a hum, and he left to get the first aid kit. It was then you really felt the pain in your head, but you hadn't even seen stars, so you doubted you had a concussion. The tennis ball hadn't been going that hard, it had bounced on the court before it hit you, slowing it down pretty good. When the prince came back, he cleaned the scrapes and you winced at the sting. He was so gentle and put ointment on as well before the band-aids. As his thumb smoothed over the bandage, he opened his mouth to say something, but the nurse decided to return right then. He went back out to the tennis court as she looked you over and she suggested you rest for a bit, there was no concussion evident, but you did still get hit in the head.

You had managed to drift half-way to sleep, and you somewhat registered hearing the nurse step out, and someone not too long after coming in. It was a different person for sure, they weren't in heels, and you wondered if it was the head handmaid. Flittering your eyes open when you felt them move to your bedside, you jerked in shock.

"Sorry, did I wake you up?" You tried not to panic, eyes falling quickly to the white logo on his red shirt. You were allowed at that point to look at Yuta's face, but you weren't sure about the other princes. Plus, if you did, you might just explode.

"N-No." You shook your head against the pillow and shuffled under the light blanket. Fuck. You tried not to wince when he kneeled down so he could meet your gaze. He smiled. You were done for.

"Sorry, I really didn't mean to let the ball hit you. I tried to go after it, but I'm not very fast." Kun huffed bashfully and you just gaped. Speak! Say something, stupid!

"I-It's okay."

"Can you tell Yuta you're not mad at me? He looked like he wanted to kill me." You knew the look. Yuta was definitely the scariest of the brothers.

"Y-yes." He sighed in relief at that and stood back up.

"I should probably go before you get in trouble for me being in here." He huffed in annoyance and then waved as he left the little infirmary. You were truly and royally, ironically, screwed.

~*~*~

Of course, it got worse through the third and into the fourth year. All the teams had been narrowed down to the final five, the girls that were weeded out were essentially turned into the reserve team. You didn't know what that meant until after you graduated. And you did. You were in the final five for The Sakuras, the little junior harem of Prince Yuta. You were also the forerunner, the informal leader despite being the youngest, but you were the least popular. Out of all twenty-five girls, they all either hated you or didn't care to acknowledge your presence. To them you put in very little effort to get to your rank, well, how you ranked to Yuta. In actuality, you put in the most effort, and had no demerits and never had to make up in any of your training. All of the other maknaes, the youngest, were the favorites of the other girls. Not you. You didn't fit the cutesy, sweet image you were supposed to it seemed. The graduation wasn't going to be until April. Because the princes were so close in age, they decided to just do everyone at the same time, and that just made the internal competition even worse. Though, your favor with the head handmaiden granted you a privilege. Early information. You knew things before anyone else, you were warned. That's how you saw it anyway. It seemed that there would be another year of training after graduation. Everyone was of age by then, which meant the sexual teachings started. It had to wait till you were finally assigned to your prince, since he would head your 'studies'. You were to learn what he liked, how he liked it and so on. It was a rumor by that point, and many girls were unbothered by this. It made sense and they were okay with it since they would be future wives anyway, and some were even looking forward to it. You didn't hate Yuta, not anything close. You did like him, but… You decided then that you had to give up on the younger Prince. You were Yuta's, and that was final. You also learned that the girls that fell through the cracks more or less joined a brothel, modern day gisaeng for the princes and their friends. Not only did the girls graduate in April, so did the princes. And that meant everything changed. You wouldn't say that they turned into scoundrels, but finally they were more-or-less unrestrained, so they let loose. Parties. Drinking. Sex. Lots of it. You never asked about the other princes, not wanting to learn that your beloved prince had fallen into debauchery as well. Their personalities hadn't changed, they weren't abusive or even rude, but they turned into animals. You heard that Ten and his friends had full orgies with his girls and the extras. You knew when Johnny showed up that something utterly filthy was about to go down.

Taeyong seemed to be more restrained, but he was somewhat selfish. He didn't want to share his Petals, but that didn't mean that it wasn't just as naughty what happened in his quarters. Doyoung preferred more low-key engagements, but just because there was only one girl in his bed didn't mean they weren't going at it for hours on end. The only first-hand knowledge you had was with Yuta. Obviously. Honestly, you seemed to be corrupted more and quicker than the other girls. It was one of the few times you felt like you could be yourself, not constantly worried about doing and saying the right things. It was a good outlet as well for all the emotions you pushed down and hid. You were open to most things, mostly because Yuta was by no means selfish. You preferred the more carnal and kinky acts honestly; you weren’t sure you could ‘make love’ to him. The only thing that first gave you pause was when he asked if you would be okay with two of his friends joining. No other girls, just the three guys and you. It was a bit scary at first, and you wondered if your future husband had some sort of fetish, but his reasoning shocked you.

"You let me do whatever I want, Hiyomi. I want to spoil you." He spoke between kisses along your neck, your shoulder exposed from where his shirt had fallen over it. Yuta wasn't that big for a man, but he was bigger than you, his clothes baggy on your body. If you asked him, he probably would be okay with just one wife. And it would be you. You wished it wasn't though. Even with the comparatively few interactions you had over the years with Kun, you had hopelessly fallen for him, and you were content to pine after him in the distance for the rest of your life. That was better than nothing at all.

"W-which friends?" You shivered as his fingers ran over your back under the garment you had on, one finger slipping under the waist band of your lacey panties.

"Jungwoo. Mark?" His arms wrapped around you and pulled you down further into his lap, his hard cock straining against his pants. It seemed the thought alone turned him on. Those two? That was fine. Most of the princes' friends were shared, but Yuta was the closest with the two he offered. It made sense. It was odd at first to think about it, but if you weren’t sleeping with Yuta out of love, then it wouldn’t be too much different with them. And, based off what you knew the other girls did, it was actually relatively mild.

"You don't have to, sweetheart." Yuta nuzzled under your ear, and you sighed.

"That’s fine." It became a somewhat regular occurrence. And, as far as you knew, the other girls were not in a similar arrangement. But they knew, or at least, knew parts. This made them hate you more, they saw it as favor. It was one thing for a prince to indulge himself in three women, it was another for one woman to get ravished by a prince and his two friends. That was the ultimate sign of favor, you were good enough to not just get solo access to Yuta whenever but get the same treatment from his two just-as-attractive friends. The other girls knew, but they didn’t realize it was a common thing, just once in a blue moon. You didn't talk about it, because you knew how the others would be with it, and it honestly made you want Kun more. Somehow. Even with three men only wanting to please you, you wanted more… Not more, just someone else.

~*~*~

You had a close call though, you almost got found out. There was some big event that the princes were having, some formal party. It wasn't a drunken orgy or anything, almost like some kind of game night with all their friends. All of the girls went as well, it was supposed to be childish fun. You hated it. Not minding cuddling up with Yuta, you hated doing it with all the girls glaring at you. Mostly the other four in your group, because it made his favor toward you all the more obvious. You managed to get through the night, taking the chance to watch Kun without restraint when they decided to start some karaoke. He was the second-best singer after Doyoung, but none of the brothers were slouches. Some of their friends were pretty good themselves, could have been their jobs. It wasn't you ogling him while he sang that gave you away though. And, either fortunately, or horribly, Kun was the one that noticed. The guys were all taking random pictures together, and you stood at the side watching, honestly enjoying the random things they were doing. At some point Kun ended up sitting on the floor, holding up his closest friend, Chenle, so he didn't fall off of Jeno's back where he stood. You covered your mouth and giggled, eyes flicking to Kun as they tried to hold the pose for the picture. His eyes flashed to meet yours and you felt yours grow wide. He smiled, straight at you, and not the sweet one he normally gave at formal events or to diplomats and other public figures. It was a smirk, and it was the sexiest thing you had ever seen. You knew your face was once again red as a cherry, you could feel the heat leaving your skin. You quickly avoided his look; hand going to try and cover your face as you slipped away from the crowd and toward the restroom. You splashed cold water on your face, then met your own frazzled gaze in the mirror. Taking a few deep breaths, you moved to leave but heard voices in the hall, so you halted.

"You know that Jingxian girl is a bitch, right?" The voice was familiar, but quieter than you were used to, so you almost didn't recognize it was Chenle.

"That's harsh." Another person replied. Renjun?

"It's true." That was Yangyang.

"Wait, was she the one who threw her soup at that maid while they were in Europe?" Renjun asked.

"Yeah. She also apparently pretty much stole some girl's necklace that she liked when she went to Japan with…I think her name is Eiko?" Chenle replied.

"Kun-ge told me that she had taken some book from one of Yuta's girls and threw it in a fountain. It was signed or something. He made her replace it and she had to pay like a million won." Your arm jerked away from the handle then. Yuta told you a maid had done it on accident…

"Was it the quiet one he got the leather satchel for?" You shook your head a bit in shock. Yuta got that for you…you thought.

"He told me he tried to get Yuta to let him have her in the beginning, but he said no." Chenle continued, and their voices faded as they continued down the hall. Your head was swimming and your heart had started to race again. There was nothing you could do if all that was true. You were Yuta's, and that was final.

~*~*~

There was a final straw for the other Sakuras though. At it would be their downfall it seemed, and they only fell because they weren’t careful when trying to push you over the edge first.

You were in the lounge, the area big enough to easily accommodate all of the girls and let them have all kinds of fun. Your favorite place was on the top bunk, of essentially a bunk-couch. Instead of a bunk bed, there was a nice soft couch with a wooden loft over it, and another couch on top with ladder-like staircase to get you up on. That was your favorite place. It was removed from the central conversation-pit-like area where most of the girls gathered. They would play drinking games and tell all sorts of lurid stories and secrets, while you would sit under the dim light of a lamp and read.

"Hiyomi, come here!" The girl that called you, Eiko, was the second eldest of your group. She was the only one that was actually Japanese herself, but even then, she was given a different name. You each were granted one from Yuta himself, you weren't even sure he knew any of your real names. Your birthnames didn't matter anymore.

Sighing, you reluctantly put your bookmark in your novel and trudged over to the group. Not everyone was there, Ten's girls were probably off getting drunk and defiled, and three of Taeyong's were with him abroad. Sitting down gently in an armchair, you smoothed your skirt down as you did and stiffly rested back.

"We're playing truth or dare." Of course they were.

"Okay?" They never invited you to play anything or do anything with them unless they were forced to. The competition had gotten much worse lately. As the Princes all approached the grand age of 25, they would finally choose their main wife. You were in the lead, to no one's surprise, but to everyone's chagrin. Yours included. You shot a quick glance at Jingxian. She was the forerunner of the Ursas…Kun's favorite seemingly. She was refined, elegant, beautiful. To many she was kind, sweet, but she was cold to you. She was never rude in person and as far as you know, after the book incident she didn't do anything. That was better than cruel though. She was close with Eiko, and you assumed that was why she disliked you so much, since Eiko cared so little for you. You didn't associate much with any of Kun's girls, but still you hated them. No, that wasn't the right word, you envied them. The worst thing was, you knew that Jingxian didn't love Kun. Just like you didn't love Yuta. She was enamored with Taeyong. Well, maybe not him, but his status. He was the crown prince, which would mean she could be queen if she was chosen. You weren't sure who else knew this, but you knew it was grounds for her to be more-or-less banished. If you really wished, you could out her, and get her kicked out, but what was the point? That wouldn't help you any, and there was no point in lashing out at her out of jealousy. That would make you just like all the others.

"Come sit here." Eiko was being way to friendly, which made you way suspicious. You followed her prompt though; you were the youngest after all. There was an empty soju bottle in the middle, the girls clearly having finished it off earlier.

"I'll start." One of the Petals started; her name was Anjeong. She spun the bottle, and you held your breath, only sighing gently in relief when it landed on Eunhwa, the eldest Bunny.

"Truth or dare, unni?"

"Hm." Eunhwa tapped her finger on her chin, "truth."

"How big is Prince Doyoung's cock?" She prompted and the girls chattered with curiosity. You zoned out then, knowing how this whole thing was going to go. Your eyes drifted to watch the gas flames in the fireplace. As you glanced back at the bottle as it was spun again, not even hearing her answer, your eyes passed over Lumei. She was the maknae of the Ursas, and you hated her the most. You could have been her; she was only about a month younger than you. She didn't seem to notice your glare and she giggled when the bottle landed on her when Eunhwa spun it.

"Truth or Dare, Lumei?"

"Dare!" She decided quickly and Eunhwa looked thoughtful for a second, looking around. She smirked and cast a devilish look at Jingxian before looking back to Lumei.

"Show us what Prince Kun's favorite position is." You wondered if they noticed you go still. Completely. You couldn't show a reaction, you didn't want to let any of them know your secret. They would use it to assassinate you. Jingxian scoffed at the question, over-dramatically.

"I don't think she's can." She grinned coyly, taking a sip of her wine and Lumei sent her a playful sneer.

"Honestly, I can't really show you, because I myself can't do it. But…" Lumei looked around and then climbed onto the couch behind her. She sat on it backwards, knees on the back of the couch, back to the cushion, her head hanging over the edge, hair flowing to the floor. She opened her mouth wide and just sat there a second, the other Ursas giggling. Your jaw clenched, eyes stinging, but you still didn't move.

"Her gag reflex is too sensitive." Jingxian pressed on her throat, and she hacked, sitting up to catch her breath around laughs.

"I can't even open my mouth that wide…" Mianyu mumbled, and the girls chattered and giggled. Your tongue ran over your lips, and you pondered if you could. You were all too familiar with that position Lumei mimicked, and at first you had been disgusted at her pose. But now you would enjoy it with Yuta more, you could imagine Kun instead. Like you often did. Your gag reflex was practically nonexistent, whether it was genetics or a fluke, it had always been that way.

"Okay!" Your eyes flicked to the bottle as Lumei spun it, still giggling, clearly tipsy. You sagged in relief when the bottle landed on Aikiro then. She was your biggest rival…in her eyes anyway. She outright despised you, she felt she should be the favorite just because she was the ‘leader’. Okay…whatever.

"Trush or dare?" The Ursa maknae hiccupped and you wondered if the blood going to her head made her drunker.

"Truth." She leaned back against the couch she sat in front of, sending a wry look your way. What did you do? You rolled your eyes and looked back at the fire.

"How many times have you done it with Yuta, and Jungwoo and Mark?" she asked, and silence fell over the group. Your eyes widened a bit, but you didn't look back to the group.

"You idiot!" Mianyu slapped the back of Lumei's head, and she yelped.

"What?" Aikiro nearly growled.

"W-well. I mean, everyone knows that Yuta invites them over a lot. Jinyu said…"

You felt four heated gazes fall on you and you licked your lips, looking slowly back at everyone else. Your eyes flicked to Jinyu who was staring at the floor, zoned out.

"What do you mean, a lot?" Aikiro looked back at Lumei who shriveled under her glare, pressing closer to Jingxian.

"E-every Friday." She replied. Before you could look back to your fellow Sakuras, you flinched as Aikiro stormed over, dumping her wine all over your head. You exhaled in shock, closing your eyes to prevent the alcohol from running into them.

"You fucking bitch! You told them? I bet you brag about it." You grit your teeth, reaching for the nearby tissue roll, but Eiko snatched it from your reach, her own drink joining. The fruity scent of whatever kind of pre-mixed cocktail she was drinking stung your nose and your hair started to drip.

"H-hey!" Gyuri, the kindest one there, the maknae of Doyoung's bunnies, tried. She really did try, but… You winced and grunted when a hand grabbed the back of your hair, yanking your head back so were forced to look up at the owner. Keiho was the oldest, out of all the girls actually, but she was the most cruel. She was the most two-faced as well. Your eyes flicked to her drink, expecting her to dump it on you as well, and your face fell. It was a bottled pina colada. Coconut. Everyone knew you were super allergic to it, couldn't even eat anything made in the same factory as coconut products.

"Hm, I wonder if you would like the taste of this?" Keiho took a sip before looking at the label on the bottle and she let go of your hair just long enough to let Eiko take over.

"Wait, Keiho-" Mianyu stood then, trying to go forward. Before she could get very far though, Jinyu grabbed her wrist, halting her. No one but you seemed to notice Gyuri slip away from the group and out the door. You prayed she was going to get help. Your heart was pounding, you were scared, legitimately. This wasn't a joke, not a game anymore. They were seriously out to hurt you. Keiho swirled the bottle a bit, and let it tip slightly, a drop falling from the mouth and landing on your cheek. It didn't take any more than five seconds for your skin to start itching, and the girls around you could see the skin already starting to redden, following the path of the drop before it landed on the floor. You tried to wiggle free at that point, out of Eiko's grip, but the final Sakura, Yumi, sat behind you in the chair, holding you in place. She giggled, leaning down to whisper in your ear.

"Should I tell them about Kun?" Her voice was so soft you almost didn't hear her. You froze then, eyes wide, looking toward Jingxian.

"She knows too, you know." Yumi whispered and then you saw the other woman smirk. The other girl still didn't let Mianyu go and help you. Aikiro kneeled then, joining Yumi in restraining you, her hand going to your face and pressing on your cheeks to force your mouth open. A tear fell from your eye, and you tried to shout, but Eiko's hand left your hair and landed on your throat. Not enough to cut off your air, but in just the right spot to silence you. Keiho swirled the drink again and was just about to tip it again, but she hesitated. Why? Your eyes met hers and she seemed to realize how bad it would be to do what she wanted, seeing the raising red welt on your face from just a drop. It wasn't like your tongue and throat would slowly swell shut, it could shut your body down faster than anyone could get help.

"Don't be a fucking coward." Jingxian snapped, slamming her wine glass down onto the side table so hard it sloshed from the glass. She snatched the bottle from Keiho, and she tipped it-

The sliding door slammed open, the loud noise startling her. The girls all looked in horror at the door, and you watched in terror as the bottle fell from her hand, the alcohol splashing onto you, and a swig or two fell into your still open mouth. You choked, trying to spit the liquid out, your mouth already burning, and the girls let you go as Yuta stormed into the room and straight to you.

"Hiyomi!" You spat more out, nearly tempted to force yourself to throw up…if you even could. Your mouth and face burned, your skin and eyes itched, and tears fell from your eyes as your head grew foggy. You were already wheezing, and Yuta was at your side immediately. A second person landed on your other side.

"Sit her up." You let Yuta move you, slumping back into him and watching blearily as the nurse brought the EpiPen down and injected the medicine into your thigh. You felt some relief at the moment, and you grew tired quickly but your breathing was still shallow. The nurse went ahead and injected the second shot and your body seemed to get enough relief that it wanted rest then.

"Hiyomi!" A third voice hit your ears and you blearily looked to see someone else dash in, heading for you as you fell unconscious.

~*~*~

You awoke to the sound of beeping, and distant voices. You blinked to clear your vision and it was clear you were in a hospital. You cringed, looking down at the IV in your arm…You really preferred it in your hand. You felt like you couldn’t bend your arm, and they had put it on your dominant side to boot. Groaning, you adjusted in the bed, your body and head felt heavy. The voices got louder; you could recognize one was Yuta's.

"They did it on purpose, everyone knows how allergic she is to coconut."

"I'm not saying what they did wasn't bad, but are you really okay with getting rid of your entire harem but Hiyomi?" It was another man, a voice you only ever heard in person once. It was the King.

"Father, if I had to pick only one wife, ever, it would be her. She was going to be my main wife anyway. I think having five of them is ridiculous anyway."

"Yuta-"

"I'm not the heir, anyway, so why does it matter?" You didn't hear a response if there was one.

"What about Jingxian and Jinyu?" Jinyu? She was there, but she hadn't done anything that you remembered.

"Get rid of them." Kun's voice was clear. And sharp.

"Didn't you tell me Jingxian was most likely your choice?"

"Not anymore."

"Jinyu too, then?"

"Wasn't it her idea?" Silence.

"Yuta, did what those six tell you not matter?"

"What?" Kun asked then, confused. You strained to hear Yuta's response.

"Yumi. She…she told me that Hiyomi likes you." Finally, your prince spoke. You heard the beeping of your heart monitor increase and felt it in your chest.

"Your highness, I found it!" A maid's voice joined, and you furrowed your brow, listening.

"There's a lock on it." What?

"Just snap it off." Your mouth went dry. Your journal. How'd she know about it? You were more than careful. Or so you thought.

"Did Miss Janyeon have the key to her lock box?"

"Yessir." Fuck. But, if the King requested, it wasn't like she could refuse. That was it. You were out. At least you didn't die.

"I knew all this." Yuta's soft voice was loud in your ears and your breath hitched. What?

"You did?" Kun and the King asked at the same time.

"She's careful. But I know her too well by this point."

"Why didn't you say anything?" the King prompted.

"She was mine, that's all I cared about. It was selfish, but… It is a bit worse than I thought." Yuta huffed.

"What do you want to do, Kun?" Their father moved on.

"It's up to her." It was hard to read his tone, and even in the other room, you could feel the tension rise just by the lack of response from Yuta.

"She's mine." His tone was harsh, you had only heard him angry one other time. Right before you passed out. It felt like minutes of silence passed.

"If that's what she wants." Kun spoke finally.

"I think we owe her a decision, since she went through such an ordeal. It’s impressive she kept it hidden so well, and didn't ever act on it, or act out against the other girls. I might not be around much, but your mothers are, and they tell me everything. She's brave and strong for all the shit the other girls put her through. For now, let's keep it hidden we all know, let her choose her next actions without interference. If she chooses Kun, what will you do Yuta?"

"If you love something, you gotta learn to let it go." His defeated tone made your throat clench. You didn't want to hurt him, you really cared for Yuta. You also knew that your feelings for Kun were borderline insane, if not straight-out irrational. It was infatuation, you weren't allowed to get close enough to him to call it love. You were starting to realize then, that it was probably Yuta's doing. Especially if he knew. Maybe that was why he kept you at his side if the others were around, you thought it might be to protect you from the other girls…

"That's a lot different than what you said three years ago."

"Fuck off."

"Yuta, if you allow her to choose Kun instead, you won't have anyone. It would look bad on me." their father pressed.

"If she leaves me, I'll abdicate." You gasped at that. Yuta was second born, even if he wasn't the crown prince, he was closer to the throne than anyone else. He was right after Taeyong, which would put him in a high position when the eldest became King.

"Yuta-"

"If Kun ditches his girls. If Hiyomi chooses you, you can only have her. She deserves the world, and you better fucking give it to her." You closed your eyes, a tear leaving your eye as you made your own decision. No matter how desperately you had wanted Kun the last four years, Yuta was willing to risk everything for you. You couldn't let him do that.

"Would it look bad for the third-born to have one wife?" Kun asked then and you clenched your jaw, the beeping on the machine picking up. You glanced at it, not sure how to read the numbers, worried if you got any more emotional it would set it off.

"I'm going to tell you boys something that no one else can know. Doyoung already requested that he only marry Gyuri. He's tired of dealing with the girls' drama. Ten doesn't care much for an actual marriage to anyone. Taeyong is willing to have the harem if he's king, since it was the deal for the imperial alliance. He already chose Sooyoung to be the crown princess. I remember when I was your age, all of the crap the girls did to each other, the backstabbing, the gossip. The only girl I've seen that hasn't played into any of it was Hiyomi. Even your mothers love her. If she chose Yuta, what would you do Kun?" More silence.

"If that's what she wants-"

"What the fuck do you want?" Yuta spat.

"Honestly? I want to take her from you. I have for years. I know you said, father, to let her decide without us interfering, but… I'm not going to just sit by." The King sighed so hard that you heard it, your head was spinning trying to process everything.

"If she feels safe with it, I want to bring those six to her. Make them apologize. Hiyomi can decide if they will simply be expelled or if she wants to press charges legally." Your mind ran rampant in that moment. The king was letting you decide? All of your hurt and anger, resentment, jealousy; everything bubbled inside.

"I will have someone speak to Mianyu and Lumei as well. I have a hard time believing they had no part to play, or at least that they didn't know." The king finished and the conversation died, and you assumed they left. A door opened and you realized they had been in the room next door, sharing the wall that was behind your head. Your own door started to open, and you partially shut your eyes, pretending that you just woke up.

"Miss Hiyomi?" A woman spoke a nurse entered, with Yuta behind her. No one else.

"Yes?" You opened your eyes more, continuing the act.

"Do you know where you are?"

"The hospital." You hadn’t hit your head, why wouldn’t you know?

"It was good the nurse had those EpiPens ready, you had a very quick and severe reaction. We're going to keep you here overnight and if all is good, you can go back tomorrow." The nurse smiled and then left after taking note of your vitals, leaving you with Yuta. He sat in the chair next to your bedside, taking your hand in his.

"How are you feeling?"

"Like crap." You admitted and he couldn't help but sigh with a defeated smile.

"I would think. Do you want to talk about what happened?"

"Could I have some water first?"

"Oh!" He got up and went to get what you requested, probably from a vending machine or something. You hated tap water… Yuta returned, and he helped you sit the bed up more as you took a swig from the bottle. You noticed his brow furrow, and his thumb rubbed over your cheek, it must have been a bit red still.

"What happened, (Y/N)?" You nearly choked, luckily you hadn't taken a sip.

"W-what?"

"(Y/N)." He reiterated and you closed the bottle, lip quivering a bit. It had been so long since you heard that name…

"I didn't know you knew my real name." you whispered.

"I shouldn't. But I asked." You had a hard time meeting his eye, so you just rested back, eyes closed.

"I was stupid. I was just reading, and they invited me over to play truth or dare." You huffed in annoyance, "I was suspicious immediately, but I went along with it. I…" You didn't want him to know you heard their conversation, or that you knew he knew about your feelings for Kun.

"I hadn't even been picked, but Lumei asked Aikiro about…about Jungwoo and Mark." You finally looked at him and he nodded, realization painting over his worried expression.

"It was clear that only I get the…privilege." You weren’t sure what else to call it.

"Aikiro got pissed and so she dumped her wine on me. Eiko dumped her cocktail on me and they with Yumi held me while Keiho threatened to make me drink her pina colada." His brow instantly furrowed, anger clearly taking over. But he was the quiet, scary angry type.

"Keiho hesitated, so Jingxian grabbed it from her and decided to do it herself…" You shivered a bit, feeling angry yourself. You never felt so mad. Sad, upset, hurt, frustrated? Yes. Not anger, not the rage you felt taking over.

"What about Jinyu?"

"Jinyu?" You played along. Yuta sighed.

"Apparently it was her idea. We decided that those six need to go. Father wants them to apologize first. He said it was up to you if they get expelled or if you want to get the police involved." You knew all of that already, but you were able to put on a bewildered expression.

"I can decide?" Your prince didn't say anything, and you wondered if he was thinking about his willingness to let you decide about him, or Kun.

"Yes, of course."

"What…what about you and them?" He didn't look at you and you wondered how he would word what you already knew.

"I only need you." He told you softly and you tried to hide your wince.

"Will you meet with them? You don't have to."

"No, I want to hear them apologize. And I want to tell them they're expelled. And I want to press charges." You turned your determined gaze to Yuta; he had never seen you look so harsh. But it made him smile.

"Good."

~*~*~

The doctors determined you were good to be discharged the next day and when you got back to the Sakuras’ dorm, it didn't look any different. You then remembered you wanted to be the one to tell them they were expelled, so you got to. The rest of them weren't in there, but there were maids scurrying about in their bedrooms, packing up their stuff.

"Hiyomi!" You turned as the head handmaiden came in and her hands went to your face, looking you over.

"You poor child." She sighed after you told her in detail what you went through.

"I'm sorry I had to help them find your diary." She pulled the journal out of the top of her hanbok, the lock had been broken off.

"It's okay." You took it from her, "did you look at it?"

"No, child. I know how to respect someone's privacy." You nodded in thanks, and she left to attend to other duties and so you entered your own room. Nothing had been touched, at least it seemed that way, but you still checked. Finding everything was in line, you got changed into something a bit more formal for the rest of the day. Looking in the mirror, you put on the brown and black plaid jacket that matched your skirt. Adding the beret of the same pattern, you pulled it further back, then readjusted your thigh-high socks. After, since you had about an hour to kill before you were supposed to confront the girls, you rummaged through your things. Many of your nicer accessories and little trinkets were from Yuta. Your mind went back to the conversation you had overhead nearly three years prior. Plucking the familiar book off your shelf, you looked over it, the spine was wrinkled from many read-throughs and the signature was in a slightly different spot than the original. It was your favorite book, and it made sense why Jingxian targeted it, but how did she know? Probably Eiko… You then looked at your leather satchel, you used it constantly, and you had nearly forgotten that apparently, Yuta hadn't got it for you. Did Kun really get it instead? Or did he suggest it? Get it for Yuta to give you? You didn't know. The other little gifts started to leave a sour taste in your mouth, making you wonder if he had lied about any of the rest. Your glass paperweight in the shape of a cat went missing, and supposedly a maid found it in your laundry, so he brought it back. A set of manga you liked had a limited edition only sold in Japan that he got for your birthday. But…he hadn't been in Japan when they were on sale. Kun had been though. Letting your thoughts loop into the negative, you gathered all of your gifts, minus the bag, and piled them on your desk. The bag was a practical item, so it was allowed some grace, but you wanted to ditch the rest for some reason. Why did you feel so mad at Yuta? It wasn't like he did anything wrong, technically, he just continued to act like he didn't know about your feelings for his half-brother.

"Lady Hiyomi?" A soft voice called after a knock on your door. A younger maid had come to escort you to a sitting room where you were to meet with the girls. Swallowing the few nerves you had, surprisingly, you followed after her and entered the room. It was empty, no one else was there-

"(Y/N)." You startled, only noticing Kun as you got further into the room. He was sitting on the couch under a window, and you wondered why Yuta wasn't there. He looked gorgeous as always; his hair dyed a dirty blonde and slightly wavy, and he had on a navy and white letterman jacket.

"(Y/N)?" If Yuta wasn't supposed to know your real name, how did Kun? That didn't matter, you were there with him, alone. And he was coming toward you. That's when you got nervous, and you gripped your hands together to hide their quaking.

"Yuta told me. I…I needed to show you something before everyone else gets here." He pulled his phone from his back pocket, and you glanced up at his face to see his clearly upset expression. He tapped on the device, and you heard an audio recording start.

"Can you help me or not?"

Yuta?

"I can, but what's in it for me?"

Was that…Jinyu?

"I'll make it so you can leave. Get out of here." "What do you want me to do?" "Come up with the plan yourself but figure out a way for the other four Sakuras to get expelled." "Can't you do it yourself?" "Not without a reason. Public image and shit. I really don't care about the rest of them, I just want Hiyomi. Can you do it?" "Probably. You wanted me to drag Jingxian too, right?" "Please. She's gotten on my last fucking nerve. She has to know about Hiyomi and Kun, why else would she be such a bitch?" "I know that's it. What was the last thing she did again?" "Something petty, poured bleach on her favorite dress. I got her a new one and she didn't even notice, but…" "How many things have you replaced?" "Like seventeen or something crazy. Those are just the ones she doesn't know I did, too." "You know, if you weren't my cousin, I wouldn't do this." "Bullshit, you know that's not why. We're only second cousins." "I'm serious, Yuta. I couldn't care less about the others." "Even Kun?" "Kind of hard to like your future husband when you're a lesbian."

It was clear there was more to the recording, but he cut it off. You were silent for some time, trying to process everything you just heard. You stumbled and Kun quickly pocketed his phone and reached out to stabilize you, then led you to the couch.

"Did…did Yuta know what the plan was?"

"I doubt it. But…it still was partly because of him." You slumped against the back cushion, resting your cheek on it, mind swirling. Your hat fell from its place, and you just pulled it all the way off.

"W-what do you make of it?" You needed more information; your emotions were so turbulent you couldn't even decide for yourself what to feel.

"Well…I know Jingxian was such a bitch because I like you." He just straight out admitted it and your body froze, your default response. He must have noticed the jolt you gave as your body stiffened and his hand went to your chin, prompting you to look up at him. Being so close to him, it took your breath away, he was even more stunning up close. And his eyes were so gentle and warm, not the same sharp heat you normally got from Yuta.

"Honestly, early on I tried to get Yuta to let you go, so I could have you instead, but he refused." Kun sighed, then huffed with dry amusement, "I'll admit I'm a little crazy when it comes to you."

"Birds of a feather…" You mumbled and he let your face go and you just slumped against the couch again.

"You know how Yuta gets you two presents for your birthday?"

"One's from you, huh?" You guessed accurately it seemed.

"How-"

"A few years back, I overhead your friends in the hall. They said that you made Jingxian replace my signed book. I know my bag was from you. Looking at it now, those gifts make a lot more sense. They would be so different from each other. Yuta would get me a pretty set of earrings and a necklace, but then there would be a full book series. Or instead of nice shoes, it would be a galaxy print. The year-long pass to the planetarium?" Kun was more of an intellectual than Yuta for sure, he was the only one of the princes that went to college. That was part of the reason you liked him so much, he was more similar to you than anyone else there. You knew that even with the restricted amount of time you had around each other.

"How did you get that recording?" You asked when it seemed he was struggling to find a response. He glanced up at you, head still bowed, dirty blonde bangs falling over his brow.

"Jinyu sent it to me with a caveat. She made me promise that you wouldn't press charges against her. She doesn't mind the expulsion, would welcome it…"

"Did you know that she was…?"

"Yeah. She told me early on."

"Yes, it was her idea, but… Yuta prompted her, and if you promised her that, I'll respect it." Your expression hardened then, so quickly it made Kun raise his brow in surprise.

"I can't believe him. I know…" You swallowed hard, "I guess he did it because he loves me. Or that might be what he says, but for all this time…" You exhaled hard through your nose, brow furrowing.

"Yes, I want to get back at the girls even past kicking them out, pressing legal charges. They put me through so much shit for so long…And I shouldn't be this mad at Yuta, but… I want to get back at him too." Your last sentence was much quieter, you felt ashamed of your rage toward him, but that recording just bubbled everything over. You looked up then, fully to make eye contact with Kun.

"I just…I don’t know how. Help me?" The other prince hummed, leaning into the back cushion himself, looking pensive.

"I shouldn't be as sadistic as I want…" Your phone alarm went off then, meaning the others would be coming rather soon.

"Think on it, I'll go with what you plan." You told him, standing to adjust your clothes. Stepping over to a mirror, you put your hat back on, fixing your rumpled hair as well. The king was coming too after all. As you primped, Kun stepped up behind you so you could see him in the reflection as well. He wasn't any taller than Yuta, but that did still put him nearly a head taller than you since you weren't in heels. You gasped, watching his arms wrap around you from behind, his cheek pressing against the side of your head. The black fabric of his sleeve smelled amazing, like him of course. Your heart started to beat so hard you were sure he could hear it, maybe even feel it where his chest met your back.

"Tell me, what does Hiyomi mean? Do you know?"

"Something with sunlight and beauty." You had learned Japanese in your training, but that didn't mean you knew name etymology. Yuta had mentioned it before though.

"How do you like Yuhua?" You assumed it was something similar…was he already thinking of picking a different name for you? Honestly, it was the next best after your birthname.

"Perfect." You whispered and nearly whined when he pulled away abruptly, the door opening not even thirty seconds later. Your posture immediately corrected itself, and you bowed your head as the King entered, followed by Yuta, then the six girls were escorted in by a few of the royal guards. Though, they looked more like federal agents…

"Sit." One of them ordered and the clearly dismayed girls followed. There was still evidence of mascara running and their faces were blotchy and red. They weren't in their fancy clothes either, having been dressed in clothes similar to the uniforms worn as trainees. Plain pleated skirts and button ups with a cardigan. For once, you weren't the plainest dressed one in the room, and you felt more smug than angry looking over them.

"Come here, child." The king prompted and you stepped to his side at his prompting, head still bowed to avoid looking at his face. You didn't notice the glare Yuta had sent Kun's way when he realized he had arrived there early. And that he had access to you without your prince being there as well.

"Tell them, Hiyomi." He motioned with his hand, and you turned to face them fully. They were clearly shocked by your cold gaze, and your eyes met Jinyu's. She looked significantly less nervous, and it was clear she was putting on an act.

"Expel them, please, your highness." The five other girls had various reactions, all forced down and if glares could kill, Jingxian would succeed in her mission.

"Of course. Now, you six. Apologize." The King's tone was hard, and the girls shakily stood and moved to face you. They clearly didn't want to do what followed, but they had little choice. They fell slowly to their knees, and bowed low, foreheads on their hands pressed to the floor. You barely registered the clearly scripted words they spoke, and you turned to look over your shoulder at the princes. Your gaze first went to Yuta, and it was clear he had no idea that you knew everything. He gave you his classic smile, but it just pissed you off then. You then looked at Kun and he gave a subtle nod.

"Jinyu can go." You then noted and the King was curious why you only let her go, but he allowed it. He knew there was something unspoken since Jinyu seemed to sag in relief as she left.

"We'll tell them the rest, father. Would you mind leaving us to it?" Kun stepped forward and his father turned to look back at him. They exchanged something unspoken through their gaze.

"Very well." He nodded and he left along with the guards, who stayed stationed outside the door as it closed.

"Hiyomi?" Yuta stepped up closer, but you ignored him, going to where the girls had sat back down. The other Sakuras looked a bit more nervous, but Jingxian was steaming. All of her hard work over the years, desperate to get whatever wealth and power she could, gone. The sneer she shot you pissed you off, hand flying up without thought, smacking her hard enough to snap her head to the side. She just sat there, not looking back at you. Not sure what to say to them, you turned and looked at Kun who was in the same spot, a little behind his slightly older brother. A smug look fell on his face, and he stepped around the other prince, shedding his letterman-style jacket and laying it on the table. You wanted to swoon as he rolled the sleeves of his white button-up, so they bunched above his elbows. Paired with his watch and the ring he had on his index finger, it was so little, but so hot. Yuta must have noticed how your expression changed, recognized it even, but you knew it was different than anything you gave him.

Kun sidled up next to you and he raised a brow, silently asking if you were ready. You nodded so slightly, with a tiny hum and you gasped as his hand grabbed your chin. The move was a bit rough, but your gasp was of delight, not fear or shock. His eyes were still warm, and he had the sexy grin back, your thighs twitched along with your core.

"You know, it’s a shame that only Yuta could get a girl so good." His grip softened, and he cupped your jaw instead. The room was so quiet you could hear Jingxian's jaw clench and made her teeth grind against each other. Kun's face was so close to yours that you felt his breath on your lips.

"Kun, what are you-" Yuta started, coming closer.

"But it's also a shame that she got stuck with him." His tone was incredibly patronizing, derisive and you just took the chance to bask in his presence and attention as he pulled his phone back out, stepping back slightly. He still had the audio clip paused where he left it off before, and you saw then it was half-way through.

"At least you only have to deal with one guy. He also knows. I have to get it up for four other sluts I couldn't care less for."

The four other Sakuras gasped, and your eyes flicked to look at Kun's phone, but his hand at your jaw turned you back to focus on him. It was hard to get mad with the following audio while looking over him, so close to you. You didn't even care to look and see what Yuta's expression was. He had frozen, just behind his half-brother, almost scared to move.

"Viagra?" "No, I just pretend they're Hiyomi. Hard to do though. Eiko's so fucking annoying and won't shut up. Sounds like a bad porno. Aikiro still doesn't know what the fuck she's doing even after training for a year and more. Yumi has no stamina and is selfish to boot. Keiho-"

Your eyes flicked to the phone again, waiting for him to finish. It seemed he paused to take a drink or something, because the audio kept progressing.

"Keiho is a fraud. She thinks I don't know that she goes to Ten's little orgies or whatever. I know she's slept with half of the guard too."

All the girls looked at Keiho then, her cheeks that were bright red with anger were now horribly pale.

"She acts like she wants stuff vanilla, loving. I know she can only get satisfied with two cocks in her."

Kun shut it off then, only a few seconds left but you had heard enough. How dare he criticize Keiho when he was the one that brought his friends in to fuck you at the same time? Did he think it would be flattering that he only thinks of you when he's with the others?

"Hiyomi-" Yuta tried to start, and you wanted to push around Kun, smack his stupid pretty face. But you trusted the other prince to come up with the best thing he could. He already tore down the girls, that much was obvious from their faces and the devastated looks they sent Yuta.

"Despite his supposed love for you, sweetheart, it’s a shame you don't feel the same." Since it wasn't directed at you, and it would still be incredibly hot if it was, the smug sadistic grin he had riled you up all the more. Kun hummed, prompting you to respond and he chuckled at the dazed look you had.

"No, I don't." It was like he was some kind of drug; your thoughts were foggy, and you needed more of him. He had taken out the girls, they looked like all the fight had been ripped from them, slumped on the couch. It had hit Yuta too, but not enough, not yet. Though, Kun needed to finish Jingxian first.

"Do you know how hard it was for me? From the moment I saw you, I wanted you. The only reason I was going to choose Jingxian was because I hate her. I couldn't live with myself if you weren't my wife, my princess, but I didn't want to hurt the other girls. They didn't deserve the hurt like her. She's a horrible human being and she seemed all the worse compared to you, (Y/N)." Hearing him say your real name again did it, you were head over heels in love with him and you thanked whatever higher being finally graced you with something good. All of the shit you had put up with came to the best moment of your life, knowing Kun wanted you just as badly as you wanted him. Even if you both knew it was crazy, even sick; at least you could be lovesick together. The final hit to the girls, hidden from Yuta since Kun blocked you from his sight, was the extremely gentle kiss he pressed to your forehead, followed by him gently brushing his nose over yours.

"Guards, take them to the police." The prince let your chin go, just enough so he could step back so as not to shout in your ear. The door opened and the suits came in, quite literally hauling the girls away, Jingxian now just as broken as the others.

"Only one left." You whispered when Kun came back to you. He shifted where you stood with a hand on your lower back, making you visible to Yuta then.

"Show him you're mine." He told you and it seemed your minds were linked. At graduation, each girl would kneel before the prince and swear their loyalty, almost like being coronated. You sank to your knees, but you looked up at him instead. The normally practiced display of reverence for a girl's monarch was corrupted by the desire you looked at him with, and he you. You were submitting to him as a man, not as a higher-up, nor a prince. He grinned when your hands gripped his belt, not moving to remove it, but the implication was clear-

"You fucker." Yuta shot forward, hand burying in Kun's shirt and yanking him away from you. You flinched back as Kun was pulled away and you quickly stood as the brothers stared each other down.

"You lost, Yuta. Move on, she's mine now. Ready to abdicate?" You flinched back with a gasp, hands covering your mouth as Yuta's fist moved toward his brother's face. Kun deftly moved his head the little bit he had to for the blow to miss.

"Wait!" You tried to weasel your way between them before the elder landed a punch on the younger. Even though they were the same height, Kun was bigger, Yuta had a hard time gaining any kind of bulk and he looked like a twig next to the other prince. While he wasn't the most muscular man you knew, he was outright perfect to you, and it was clear he was strong because Yuta barely budged him with his tug on his shirt, he moved with the pull. That was beside the point… You got back at Yuta, what happened was enough, you could tell by the hurt etched into his face. Your anger had immediately dissipated, a better solution hitting your mind. Neither of them knew you had heard the full conversation the day before, but that didn't change that you had.

"Don't abdicate. You already are losing your harem, but you told Kun to only have me, right?" Both men were clearly shocked that at your words and you took the chance to shove Yuta off, standing in front of Kun, clearly in a show of protection. Like you could really do anything…

"Y-yes." Your prince's voice was soft and rough. He didn't deserve how much you really wanted to wreck him. Your rationality had kicked in, logic taking over, he was already defeated.

"We’ll tell the press that the other four turned against me because I didn't want to be involved with you. Turn it on me. You take the three from Kun, and I go to him. You're second born, you can't just give up those rights-"

"(Y/N), I don't want to be a prince without you as my princess." Your chin quivered a bit at his tone, his eyes glassy.

"And I don't want to be a princess without Kun as my prince." You countered. You needed to break his heart for him to let you go. You didn’t turn to look at the other man even though Yuta's eyes flashed to look over your shoulder.

"Take the other three, add two more from wherever, do whatever. Wouldn't you rather move on and find someone else than love me and know I don't feel the same? If you love something let it go? Do you think I want to be restricted to you, when I love someone else?"

"You love him?" You didn't respond to his question. It wasn't the real definition of love, it wasn't that pure, but you had some twisted loyalty to Kun that you never did for Yuta.

"Do you love me?" You pushed back. You weren't sure, it seemed somewhat like you were a trophy, a luxury item that he might adore, but…

"You're supposed to be mine." He didn't answer the question. Not directly.

"You don't love me, I’m just your favorite. You liked that I didn't fight the other girls tooth and nail just to get your attention. You liked the challenge. If you really cared you would have told me all the shit that Jingxian did, and the others, I'm sure. You never even bothered to learn who I was, getting me pretty, girly things. You played up the romance but never did anything I liked with me. I might have been in your bed the most, but I wasn't in your heart."

"And you were in Kun's?" Yuta nearly spat, not trying to defend himself, because you were right.

"What's her favorite thing?" The man behind you cut in and you turned to look at him. You didn't answer, genuinely curious if Yuta knew, because he never acted on it…

"Books."

"Wrong. Space. She goes out at night to watch the stars. All her books are science-fiction. Her favorite sweatshirt is of the milky way and if there's ever a special event at the planetarium, she's there." How did he know all of that? The other prince was silent, clearly not sure what to do or say next. His eyes went back to you, and you couldn't meet his look, and stepped closer to Kun.

"Favorite animal?" Kun continued.

"Dogs-"

"Goats. She just can't have one as a pet, she asked. The keychain on her bag is a goat. So is the plushie she takes with her on out-of-country flights. She tells people she likes dogs because it's more accepted.”

"Her favorite color is dark purple because it looks like the night sky. She loves snow but hates rain. She's the only girl fluent in all four languages. She hates moths and loves fireflies." He kept going and you wondered how he knew all that. Though…it was all things that were more or less common knowledge, things your friends knew. It wasn't creepy, just observant, and it should be things Yuta knew. But, based on his face, he really didn't.

"He loves planes. He took lessons to learn to fly one. He loves cats but doesn't have one because Lumei is allergic. He wears a lot of black and white, but he always uses a blue pen because he likes blue too. He hates cold weather; he knows how to cook, and he even is scared of butterflies." You smiled softly, realizing all the things he knew about you, you pretty much knew about him as well. It was things you overheard while near him or figured out by watching him from afar. After an uncomfortable silence, you finally looked up to meet Yuta's gaze.

"I'll go talk to father. I'll… if you ever break her heart, I'll fucking kill you." The prince exhaled, seeming to get some kind of closure and he stepped closer, reaching for you. Midway though, his hand stopped, and his eyes flicked to the side, at your earrings.

"They're moons." He noticed.

"Yes." Your voice was quiet, and the prince dropped his hand, cast one more look to his brother, and left. Watching him go was…a relief. You thought you might feel something else, be a little sad, or hurt, but you just felt at ease. As you turned to face Kun once more, he was already there, his hands at your jaw and he pulled you to him, kissing you so hard your teeth clashed against his. The force of him pulling you into him knocked your hat off, falling to the floor. You whimpered, hands holding his wrists as you try to meet his fervor. Your butt hit the table when he turned you with his leg wedging between yours. One hand left your jaw to cup the back of your head, blunt nails scratching your scalp. The other hand found its way to your waist, then his arm snaked around your middle, helping you up to sit on the table. Kun finally pulled away, both of you panting and your dazed eyes met his sharp ones.

"Fuck." He sighed, leaning forward and resting his forehead on your shoulder. His hands rested on the table, holding him up so he didn't rest his full weight on you, and he stood there for a while. You pressed your cheek to his soft hair, basking in him finally being so close to you. Slowly, you brought your arms up, shaking, and wrapped them around his shoulders. The hug was quickly returned, Kun enveloping you back, and you pressed your face into his chest. With your ear over his heart, you closed your eyes, listening to it beat, soaking in the scent of his cologne. Neither of you really wanted to pull back, but never-the-less did so. He took your hands in his, bringing them up so he could kiss them.

"I need to talk to father as well, sweetheart," his hand cupped your cheek, thumb rubbing your soft skin, "wait for me."

Due to formalities and legalities, you weren't Kun's right away. Because of all the rules, you both were moved into a guest house more or less, still on the royal campus, but not one of the official palaces. You had to wait for nearly a week as the ministers convened, trying to figure out what the hell to do. Taeyong remained the heir and was the only one that kept the harem as promised. Yuta didn't abdicate, but he didn't rebuild his harem either. He ended up moving to Japan then, becoming the ambassador for that part of the empire. Kun adopted most of his roles and rights, and it was well received by the public that he wanted to marry for love instead. He wasn't the heir, so the ministers didn't mind too much. Ten had some of his privileges revoked when it was revealed how debaucherously he was living, but he didn't mind. Doyoung too gave up his harem, minus Gyuri. A lot of things changed fast, but it was welcome. Finally, once everything was official, you stood in the middle of the foyer of your new home, watching people mill about as they moved the final things in. Looking around, you startled when someone snuck up behind you, hugging you.

"It's done, sweetheart." Kun nuzzled behind your ear, and you bit your lip, giggling.

"Once everyone leaves, I'm going to take you, since your mine now."

Part 2: Up Close (Smut)

Master-Master List

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xanadontit · 7 months ago

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Dear Care and Feeding.

My husband and I have a delightful, inquisitive 4-year-old daughter, “Bree,” who has a nut allergy. We have been able to manage this fairly well, but the problem is my in-laws. They were careless about nuts to the point that we had to stop coming over to their place. My father-in-law keeps a bowl of peanuts or trail mix on the end table next to the couch, and never remembered to remove them before we arrived for a visit. Even worse, my mother-in-law believes Bree’s allergy is something she will outgrow over time and even thinks she can be “cured” if she is exposed to nuts in small doses, because she read about people overcoming allergies through exposure therapy on the internet. After Bree nearly ate some peanut butter M&M’s my FIL forgot to put away on our last visit to my in-laws’ place I put my foot down. I said until they were willing to take my daughter’s safety more seriously, we would not be coming over to their house. My husband grumbled that he thought I was overreacting, but went along with it. My in-laws were very chilly for a couple of weeks, but eventually agreed to the new arrangement.

I thought we had resolved the problem, but I was wrong. When my in-laws visited our home last month, I left Bree watching TV with her grandmother while I went to check the mail. I came back to find my MIL in a panic, my FIL on the phone with 911, and Bree on the floor nearly purple and gasping …

I realized she was having an allergic reaction and immediately gave her a shot with the EpiPen I carry with me at all times. Within several heart-stopping minutes Bree was breathing better. The EMTs came and took her to the hospital in an ambulance while we followed behind.

While we were waiting for the doctors to update us at the hospital, my MIL told me she had given Bree a small piece of a Snickers bar. She said she thought Bree could overcome her nut allergy if she ate a little each day. My husband had to practically hold me back. I shouted at her that she had nearly killed my daughter and as far as I was concerned, we were done with both her and my FIL. My MIL huffed that she was only trying to make it so Bree could have a normal life and stalked out of the hospital with her husband on her heels.

It’s been over a month now, and my husband has been trying to facilitate a reconciliation between us. He acknowledges that what his mother did was wrong and dangerous, but still tries to defend her by saying “that’s how she is,” and pointing out that she never intended to harm Bree. I have told him that I will never be able to trust his parents around our daughter again. His mother hasn’t even so much as apologized. He thinks I am being too harsh and am taking this too far. Please tell me I’m not.

—Am I Nuts?

Dear Nuts,

No, you are neither being too harsh nor taking this too far. You made it abundantly clear to your in-laws what the rules were regarding your daughter and her allergies. Because they read too much online baloney and like to imagine they know better than anyone else, they broke them on purpose, put her life at risk, and don’t even seem to feel that bad about it. They suck! You are right and he is wrong. I hope this makes you feel better.

But it does you no good to feel better now and still have your husband claiming you’re overreacting, even in the aftermath of your child nearly dropping dead. It does you no good to be the lone voice in the wilderness. You need him on your side.

It’s possible that he finds your daughter’s nut allergy so frightening—and it is frightening!—that he’s desperate to grasp at any straw that suggests she might “get over it.” Combine that with an unwillingness to confront his parents, and you might have a dad who’s feeling just torn enough not to know how to handle this mess. Sit down with your husband and explain exactly how you feel about what his parents did, and how you feel about how he is not supporting you—or, honestly, even protecting his own daughter. Feel free to wave a printout of this advice column to help make your case.

Maybe, down the line, you’ll decide together to reintroduce his parents into their granddaughter’s life. (I know it feels like you never will want to, but there are such wonderful rewards for a child in having a relationship with even totally objectionable grandparents.) If so, there will be conditions, and whatever those conditions are, he’d better be on board for conveying them, in no uncertain terms, to his amateur-immunologist parents—and making clear to them that there will be no divergence from those rules.

******************

I'm sorry but what the FUCK is Dan Kois' problem? The dad/husband fucking sucks which tracks because he comes from fucking sucky stock and I'm failing to understand what "wonderful rewards" await this poor child from "having a relationship with even totally objectionable grandparents" unless he means "heavenly rewards" because they seem intent on killing their granddaughter.

Can you imagine being this kid?

"Hey, Mom, why did you let Grandma and Grandpa around me? They were constantly feeding me peanuts and I ended up in the hospital every Christmas."

"Oh, a complete moron advice columnist said it would be good for you. Somehow. Hey, you were great at calling 911 and not all kids can say that!"

ETA: And what's with all the sympathizing with the dad because he's just so sad his kid has an allergy and doesn't know what to do?! You don't let the kid eat peanuts/peanut products and you keep the kid away from people who purposely do that. He doesn't need to get an MD and cure food allergies for all of mankind. Christ.

Would love to hear @sequinedably's thoughts on this one.

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silverstarfics · 8 months ago

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I was so determined to write something for this week’s @thunder-pride bingo square that I literally wrote this fic while having a minor allergic reaction on a plane - in other words there are definitely mistakes in this but please pretend not to notice them oops. Anyway, this is a longer fic than I'd usually post on here, so I recommend reading it on AO3 but I know some people prefer Tumblr, so here we are :))

AO3 link

Stray glitter itched under his left eye, his flag kept getting snagged on his baldric, and he could feel sweat prickling at the base of his spine despite the temperature regulator in his suit, yet Alan had never felt more comfortable in his own skin. His cheeks physically ached from so much smiling. He didn’t think he’d stopped grinning since he’d landed Tracy One on American soil two hours earlier – and no, that wasn’t just because he’d been reunited with his boyfriend. They hadn’t intended to spend practically three months apart – which had been a difficult adjustment after sharing an apartment for the past year – but the end of Alan’s semester meant he was officially back on the IR roster for the summer… just as a busy spell of rescues struck.

Technically, he was here on Official International Rescue Business: representing them at one of the world’s largest Pride parades. Usually, Gordon would have played the role, dressed up in yellow, pink and blue with an unholy amount of glittery body spray decorating not only his skin but his uniform. This year, Alan had taken up the reins. He secretly suspected his family had conspired to give him some downtime – because summer break was supposed to be restful, especially when you were an overachiever who’d decided to double major – and a chance to hang out with Brandon. He’d been instructed to have fun. Literally, Scott had texted him so.

Scotty: Have fun and enjoy your chance to be a dumb 20-year-old.

Scotty: Not too much fun though. You’re representing IR.

Alan had replied: so, on a scale from John to Gordon how much fun can I have?

Scotty: My level of fun only minus the daredevil risks.

Scotty: Just don’t get arrested, that’s all I ask.

“Coming to you from the Pride event of the year,” a loud voice declared dangerously close to Alan’s ear, jolting him out of his thoughts, “I’m here with a bi icon AKA my boyfriend-”

“Really?” he interrupted. “That’s how you’re introducing me?”

“Oh my god, fine.” Brandon hooked an arm around Alan’s neck and dragged him within view of the camera. “I’m here with International Rescue’s one and only Alan Tracy.”

“Better,” Alan accepted, trying to repress the urge to sneeze as Brandon’s flag drifted across his face. “Are you filming or livestreaming right now?”

“Filming,” Brandon assured him. “I’ll edit stuff out later, so you can relax.”

Alan flung his arms out to let his own flag billow in the light breeze. “Oh, I am so relaxed.”

Brandon, on the other hand, looked set to launch into orbit. He’d downed nearly a litre of soda since he’d met Alan at the airport and had chased it down with cotton candy and churros; he still had cinnamon dust on his face and it looked like extra freckles. The sugar rush had hit him around the same time as his adrenaline spike when music had begun to blare from speakers up-and-down the parade. He’d already had several fans come up to him for selfies and signatures which had only added to his energy levels. Even now, he was bouncing on the spot.

“Brand,” Alan tried to hiss, then raised his voice to be heard above the clamour of music and chatter and the swell of live instruments around them. “Brandon, dude, chill.”

“I am so frickin’ chill,” Brandon announced gleefully. He grabbed Alan’s hand and laced their fingers together, rising onto his toes – he hadn’t stopped complaining since Alan had hit the growth spurt that had placed him above Gordon and Virgil – to pull him into a kiss. “See? Chill.”

“Uh huh,” Alan deadpanned. “Super chill.” He frowned at the taste of sugar. “Did you find more candy? Where? And how? I swear you haven’t left my side.”

Brandon levelled the camera with a conspiratorial look. “All geniuses have their ways.”

“I’m cutting you off.” Alan reconsidered his words. “Ew, gross. You’re making me sound responsible.”

Brandon flicked his red baldric. “I feel like responsibility and IR are a joint package.”

“You’ve seen my astroboard stunts.”

“Good point.”

The parade began with an explosion of colour that reminded Alan of the infamous occasion when Gordon had accidentally upended Virgil’s palette mid-painting session. International Rescue had been assigned to the group of NGO floats, so he wasn’t expecting many people to point him out from the crowd. Maybe he’d gotten too used to his life on campus; after the initial buzz, no one cared that The Alan Tracy of International Rescue was a part of their ranks. But to his surprise, there were easily hundreds of people cheering and waving banners directed at him – or at IR or at his family: at least two signs asked for Kayo’s phone number – as the procession marched through the streets. Brandon captured everything on camera, including Alan’s shellshocked expression which prompted several internet comparisons with various memes.

“Hey, hey, Alan, look up.” Brandon cupped Alan’s face, tilting his head to glimpse the livestream of the parade on the giant screens above them. “Better smile, dude!”

“Oh my god.” Alan’s voice pitched into a humiliating squeak. He cleared his throat and fixed a grin on his face as the cameras stayed on him. “Okay, so this- this is a thing that’s happening. Cool. Cool, cool, cool.”

“Breathe,” Brandon teased. He raised their linked hands into the air, prompting another chorus of cheers from the crowd. “People love us! And they really love you, so quit freaking out.”

“I am not freaking out,” Alan protested, then proceeded to do exactly that as a weight crashed into his legs from his right. He staggered and caught his balance against Brandon’s shoulder.

“Woah,” Brandon mumbled, switching off the vlog. “Hey, lil dude. Where’d you come from?”

If the fact that Brandon had turned off the camera weren’t warning enough, his sudden change in pitch from overexcited delight to soft concern would have informed Alan that the new limpet clinging to him was definitely child shaped. He glanced down to glimpse a mop of tawny hair and an adoring, toothy smile. The kid had to be around eleven, certainly no older than twelve, with rainbow face-paint and a shirt emblazoned with Thunderbird Three.

“Hey,” Alan greeted, struck by the baffled urge to laugh. He knelt down to place himself at the kid’s level – honestly, his new height just kept causing problems. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Leo.” The kid – Leo, Alan mentally corrected himself – rocked on his heels as his grin grew impossibly wider. “Sorry for… you know. Running at you and jumping onto the float and stuff. But I really wanted to say hi, ‘cos you’re, like, super cool and you’re kind of my hero, so, um, yeah.”

Brandon leaned down over Alan’s shoulder to whisper teasingly, “Aw.”

Alan elbowed him. “Shut up.” He turned back to Leo. “That’s awesome, buddy! It’s great to meet you. Are you here with someone? I don’t want them to think you’ve gone missing.”

Leo gave an emphatic nod. “My mom.” He pointed in the vague direction of the crowd. “She’s out there somewhere.”

“Oh, boy,” Brandon whistled. “I know where this is going.”

Alan tousled Leo’s hair, then stood back up. “So, I’m thinking…”

“…We should search for the kid’s mom?” Brandon concluded with a fond eyeroll. “Yeah, okay.”

After a brief discussion with the other representatives on the float, Alan made his excuses, then clambered down with Leo perched on his shoulders and Brandon close behind them. The kid kept chattering, hands anchored in Alan’s hair and his heels drumming against Alan’s chest; it brought back treasured childhood memories of the times Alan had sat on Scott’s shoulders as his brother picked paths through crowds. He was aware of Brandon sneaking photos of their silhouettes to send to the family, all dressed up in sparkles and flags and IR blues.

Leo’s mom looked suitably ruffled. Her face was flushed with a mixture of humiliation and horror beneath the shimmery sheen of glitter spray. She fretted her hands in the hem of her t-shirt – pale blue with a supportive motherly caption that made both Alan and Brandon look away – as she began to utter so many apologies that they tripped over one another.

“I am so, so sorry.” She caught Leo’s eye with a warning stare. “He didn’t mean to disturb you. I only took my eyes off him for a second- Leo, have you apologised? Say sorry right this instant. I can’t apologise enough. Thank you so much for bringing him back. It’s just that you’re his hero, you see. He’s been obsessed with the Thunderbirds since he was only so high-” She gestured at her hip. “-and when you came out… Well, you’ve been a healthy role model for him. His hero, really, and- And I should stop rambling and let you get back to the parade. Leo, get down here.”

Alan crouched down to let Leo clamber from his shoulders. He wasn’t sure how to act in the face of such praise – the word hero was tossed around frequently by civilians but it was usually addressed towards elder brothers and on rescues, not a public setting – so settled for some terrible pun outta Gordon’s handbook and laughed nervously while Brandon rolled his eyes.

“Don’t worry about it.” Alan offered Leo a fist bump which the kid readily returned. “He’s been no trouble.” He feigned a serious tone. “I have an important question though: which is the best Thunderbird?”

“One,” Brandon declared and instinctively jumped outta reach before Alan could kick his shins.

Leo wrinkled his nose. “Three, duh.”

“Correct answer.” Alan patted him on the head. “I just had to check.” He grinned at Leo’s wide-eyed, starstruck expression. The kid kept looking at him as if he were a dragon, although perhaps a unicorn would be a better comparison given the rainbows painted onto his baldric. “Maybe don’t run off without telling your mom next time though, okay?” He lowered his voice to a secretive whisper. “I think you scared her. You might want to say sorry.”

Leo’s face fell. “Sorry, Mom. I wasn’t thinking…”

“Clearly,” she replied dryly. “But I think we can let it slide just this once.” She straightened up, craning her neck slightly to meet Alan’s gaze – and nope, he still wasn’t used to that one, it was so weird, how did Scott and John live like this? “It’s his first Pride.”

“Oh, heck yeah,” Brandon cut in. He held up a hand. “High five, lil dude! That’s awesome!”

Leo met his high five with a resounding smack. Alan observed their interaction, fully aware that he probably had the heart-eyes that he’d been accused of on so many occasions by nosy siblings, but hey, whatever, sue him, it was a cute sight. He tugged absently at the edges of his flag as warm affection spread outwards from his chest. Cameras clicked around him as people filmed – hey, it’s the guy from International Rescue – but somehow it didn’t bother him anymore.

“Really,” he continued, forcing himself to turn back to Leo’s mom. “Leo’s a good kid. You should be proud of him. I got super overexcited at my first Pride too. It can be kind of overwhelming.”

She gave a light laugh. “It’s all he’s talked about for the last three months.” She lowered her gaze, voice softening as she hesitated, then confessed, “He was scared to come out to me. I don’t know how I ever gave him that impression – Lord knows I kick myself every day for making my baby think I wouldn’t accept him – but when you came out… He said that if you could be brave enough to tell the world, he could be brave enough to tell his mama. So, thank you, Alan. Truly.”

And-

Wow.

Okay. That was… a lot.

“You’re so emotional,” Brandon teased, prodding Alan’s bicep. “This is why Goose says you have golden retriever energy, dude.” He skimmed his thumb over Alan’s palm, a swift, inconspicuous show of support. “We should probably get back to the parade, but it was awesome to meet you.”

“Of course.” Leo’s mom snagged her son’s shirt. “Say goodbye, Leo.”

“Bye,” Leo chirped, then threw his arms around Alan’s middle. “Thanks for… everything.”

Alan let Brandon lead him through the crowd to a café. They found a quiet corner at the very back, tucked away in a shadowy alcove beside a potted plant and an old Pacman machine. Brandon briefly vanished, then returned with a glass of water and a chocolate chip cookie. He slid both across the table to Alan, then waited expectantly, all wide eyes and furrowed brow.

“Thanks,” Alan replied after a minute. He took a sip of the water, then drained it in one as he realised how dry his mouth had become. “I don’t know why that threw me so much. Like, it was a really nice thing, so why am I…?” He held up a shaky hand. “…you know?”

“’Cos it’s a big deal,” Brandon said quietly. He bumped his sneaker against Alan’s beneath the table. “You’re allowed to be rattled by it, Al. It’s a good thing, but it’s still a lot. Like, I can still remember the first time one of my viewers told me I’d inspired them. I’m pretty sure I threw up afterwards, so you’re doing better than me. Then again, I was like fifteen, so…”

Alan split the cookie. “Want some?”

“It’s like you don’t even know me,” Brandon sighed, grinning as he snatched up half. “Let’s chill here for a few minutes, then we’ll head back out, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Leo was right, you know?”

“What d’you mean?”

Brandon’s smile was the soft, secretive kind, usually reserved for places without the threat of cameras. Alan had gotten to see it almost daily since they’d moved in together when he’d started at MIT, but it still left him mildly breathless.

“You’re a good role model to a bunch of kids like him.”

Alan ducked his head. “You think so?”

“I know so,” Brandon corrected. “Now eat your cookie so we can get back out there.”

Much, much later, after they’d flown back to the island and washed off most of the glitter, Alan had chance to process everything. It made him happy but also nervous at the same time. Like, woah, he was someone’s role model? Kids considered him to be their hero? That was wild. He said as much, airing his thoughts aloud while Virgil clattered around the kitchen and Scott picked at the bowl of chopped pineapple that was intended for the evening’s pizzas.

“It’s just so weird,” Alan continued, drawing his legs up to sit cross-legged on the bar stool. He’d changed into sweatpants and a hoodie that he was pretty sure he’d stolen from John at some point after his sixteenth and had subsequently grown into. There was still glitter caked onto his cheek despite the fact that he’d attacked it with a makeup wipe. “Like, me? I still feel like a kid.”

“You’re Scott’s twenty-year-old child,” Gordon joked as he sidled through the patio doors and made a beeline for the pineapple. “He’s never gonna see you as an adult. Trust me, I’d know.”

“I’m not that bad,” Scott protested half-heartedly.

Gordon patted him on the back. “Smotherhen.”

“Irresponsible guppy.”

“And I wear that title with pride.” Gordon dropped onto the stool beside Alan. “Speaking of pride, how was it? Brandon didn’t give me any of the good gossip. I need details, Allie-gator.”

Alan frowned. “Did you torture my boyfriend? Is that why I haven’t seen him all evening?”

“Nah, that’s ‘cos Penny abducted him. They’re conspiring. We should both be scared.” Gordon tossed a cube of pineapple into his mouth and shot Virgil an innocent smile when his brother heaved a grand sigh and stared pointedly at the pizza bases. “Anyway. Pride. Details. Go.”

“A little kid said Alan was his role model, so Al’s spiralling,” Kayo summarised from her perch on the opposite counter, nursing something strongly alcoholic. “Now you’re all caught up.”

“Aw.” Gordon propped his chin in his hands. “That’s kind of adorable.”

“That’s what I said,” Virgil interjected. He prodded at the bowl of cake batter in his hands, then reached for a baking tray. “Do I leave this as vanilla or add cocoa powder?”

“Add chocolate.” Alan dropped his head onto the counter with a groan. “It’s weird though. I feel… like a fraud, I guess. I don’t have my life together. I survive on pizza pockets and Red Bull.”

Scott glanced up. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Only during finals. I’m mostly a functional adult the rest of the time.”

John’s hologram blinked into life above the projector. “Before you spiral any further, you should know that the internet loves you. Footage of the parade has ended up online. You’ve not just inspired one kid, but a lot of people.”

Alan tossed his hands up. “How is that supposed to make me feel any better? That’s so much more pressure.” He slumped onto the counter. “I just… You guys were my role models, right? And you did a pretty good job-”

“Thanks,” Gordon said, just as Kayo added, “Everyone apart from Gordon did a good job.”

“-so, I’m really happy to be inspiring people but also I don’t want to mess up.”

A contemplative silence settled over the kitchen.

“You’re not going to mess up,” Scott said after a moment. He slid the pineapple out of Gordon’s reach, then moved to stand beside Alan’s seat. “Hey, look at me for a second?” He placed his hands on Alan’s shoulders and offered him a reassuring smile. “All you need to do is keep being yourself. Try your best, stand up for your beliefs, and you’ll do just fine, Allie. Besides…” He tousled Alan’s hair. “You’ve been our hero for just as long as we’ve been yours.”

“Gordon’s not included in that,” Kayo called. Gordon made a crude gesture in her direction. She flung an arm at him. “See? He’s just not role model material.”

Scott ignored them. “You’re doing great, Al. I’m proud of you.”

Alan swallowed the lump of emotion in his throat, then asked, “Can I make a Pride joke?”

Scott sank onto a bar stool beside him and dropped his head onto the counter. “Wake me up when the pizza or the cake is ready, I can’t cope with the terrible puns that are about to happen.”

“Oh, but Scotty,” Alan began.

Gordon let out a wild laugh. “This is gonna be so much fun.”

#thunderpride #thunderpride 2024 #thunderbirds are go

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chestcongestion · 8 months ago

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HUSK SNZCANONS I AM ON MY KNEES BEGGING

I am finally back from work/ getting my oil changed and here to deliver snzcanons for my favorite pretty kitty <333

Loud ass dad sneezer, sneezes with his entire head, if he was a weaker person he'd sneeze with so much force he'd knock himself over.

Very heavy on the "R"s, they're almost rolling sneezes.

Lots of "HRR'SssCHUHH!" "HRr'SsHOO!" and the occasional "HHNP'TSSHHUH!"

Usually sneezes in multiple singles spaced apart, doubles or more usually indicates that he isn't feeling well (allergies or illness...or both if he's so unlucky)

Allergic to cinnamon, roses, and the ingredients in a lot of mass-marketed forms of glitter (something he had to learn the hard way when he and An/gel were intimate while Ange was still decked out in full glam from work)

Covers pretty religiously, albeit with some sketchy technique. Tends to use the back of his wrist a lot which manages to cover sweet F.A. 80% of the time.

Is a very wet sneezer, every single one produces enough for a biohazard Jackson Pollock painting.

Can stifle, but it's both very uncomfortable and very obvious when he's doing it because he has to use his fingers and pinch them over his nostrils, and his fur stands on end with every sneeze.

Prone to his sinuses getting very congested, garbled consonants and a nerfed sense of smell, holding a cloth up to his nose to try and keep it from leaking. It almost always spreads to his ears, too.

Whenever his nose is itchy his precious little jellybean twitches and wiggles like a rabbit's nose, even as the skin around it turns pink from all of the pinching, wiping, and blowing.

Has no problem telling people when he isn't feeling well, but hates being fussed over so he usually downplays it.

Best cold remedy that isn't OTC meds: chewing on a piece of goldenrod and getting absolutely sloshed on tea with honey, lemon, ginger, and enough whiskey that it could be used as molotov fuel.

Very drowsy when he's sick, will fall asleep basically anywhere and has to be jostled pretty intensely to be woken up. Favorite place to fall asleep when he isn't feeling well is tucked between An/gel's legs.

Immune system is very good! But when sicknesses do hit, they hit hard in retaliation.

About 2/3 of the time he gets a cold he ends up with a lingering cough that annoys the shit out of him, but upon experimenting with treatments and different positions, they aren't nearly as insufferable as they used to be- coughing on your stomach while your boyfriend pats your back is apparently the prime spot for old grouchy catboys...who knew?!

Finds sneezing fascinating...unsure if it's in a kink way or not, but when the place is empty and he's bored, sometimes he induces either with a cinnamon stick or one of his feathers.

If you scratch a particular spot behind his left ear, he sneezes.

#ha/zb/in ho/tel #snz #snz kink #gingey.ask #long post

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summerhalder · 5 days ago

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Trust I am SO intrigued about the wedding ring scene that made us all lose our minds but I have to go with jannik in a lestappen sandwich please!

OKAY SO. i can actually just give you both LOL the wedding ring one is just sebchal being sebchal. slightly rancid vibes and babytrapping may or may not be involved. i have apologized to hanna so many times in my docs.

as for the other one: since tennis brain completely took over recently i have been thinking only and only about mr jannik sinner and i was lamenting not being able to work on my lestappen wips. and then i was like oh. why not do BOTH at the same time!! and here we are.

it was intended to be a crackfic with shenanigans and like one scene about jannik making them food because they are both otherwise incompetent in the kitchen but then i spiralled and now feelings got involved and this turned into a monster that will span the entirety of the 2024 season (on both tennis and f1 ends). i was just REALLY moved by jannik at the trophy giving comforting zverev (even though i don't like that it's him) but the act itself moved me and i thought: roland garros and canada gp were the same weekend. both jannik and charles were suffering. i can do something with this. also charles and his competency kink go crazy when there's TWO massively competent world #1s around. i also think that they would play padel and get absolutely obliterated by jannik even if they're 2v1ing him and if no one will write that i will take it upon myself LOL

here is some of the first bit under the cut if you'd like:

There is something quite wonderful about Monaco - the year-round pleasant and sunny weather, its busy, yet classy lifestyle, the beautiful beaches leading into clear blue waters, and the simple convenience of having nearly everything you could need a very short trip away. There’s undeniable charm in the small principality; sure, it is inhabited by athletes and celebrities but more importantly the unwaveringly kind locals. The food is exquisite, a myriad of different cuisines to choose from.

None of this enumerates Jannik’s favourite part about Monaco. That honour is bestowed solely upon his home.

More accurately, his bed. His comfortable, warm, wonderful bed. He has nothing against hotel rooms; it’s hard to think badly of the places he spends more time in than his own home, but something about the clinical smell of white sanitized sheets and a too-springy mattress and sheets that chafe despite being supposedly high quality is innately unappealing. His back does not thank him.

It’s been far too long since he’s been back - three long, grueling weeks since he’d left to Melbourne shortly after spending the new year with his family. Rewarding, yes; he is of course happy to have secured the title, but he’s not so sure he could have taken another week of the intense Australian heat. Already he has been told that he looks like an overcooked chicken one too many times. It’s not his fault that he’s allergic to sunscreen.

He can practically hear Darren’s voice chiding him, telling him that he’s actually not. Jannik, however, likes to believe he is immune to propaganda.

#this is honestly going to be a clown show but at least it's enjoyable #asks #jannik sinner #lestappen

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dwobbitfromtheshire · 9 months ago

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From Hell to Home to Back Again

Summary: At the talent show, Chrissy Cunningham is so hungry that she nearly collapses. When she's found by Hopper, her parents ended up losing custody of her. She ends up being placed in the care of the Hendersons, and she finally finds the family she so desperately needed. She also ends up falling in love. What other changes are made in this alternate universe?

@emen-98 @1lostsoul0fishbowl @vulpixsworld

Prologue . . . Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

There wasn't much they could do after that, especially when Claudia came home. Robin had panicked and lied, saying that they heard about Mews, that they wanted to help. She was so touched by that that she made them all hot chocolate. That was basically her answer to everything. . .hot chocolate with a sprinkling of cinnamon. Sometimes, it did help. They all gathered in Chrissy's bedroom to discuss their options after eating dinner and watching TV with an upset Claudia. She ended up going to bed early after she made them hot chocolate. Chrissy watched one by one as everyone filtered into her room and touched Wilbur's snout.

"Hey, Wilbur, you want some hot chocolate?" Eddie asked.

"No! Eddie! He's allergic to cinnamon!" Chrissy exclaimed.

"Oh, shit, that's right. Sorry, man, I forgot," Eddie said and squinted his eyes at him. "Or did you make me forget?"

"It's a little porcelain figurine, Munson," Steve scoffed. "It can't do anything."

"It's Wilbur!" Everyone else exclaimed.

"Wilbur can do anything he wants to," Eddie said.

"I believe in you, Wilbur," Chrissy cooed. "Steve, apologize to Wilbur."

"Seriously?" Steve asked.

"Steve! It's bad luck to be mean to Wilbur. Trust me, I was mean him, and then I had a really terrible day," Dustin said.

"You had a terrible day because you hid a feral raccoon in your room," Chrissy said. "And it messed all over the place."

"Okay, fine! Wilbur, I'm sorry for being mean to you. Of course, you can do anything," Steve said as he talked to the pig.

"I can't believe you just did that. You looked so stupid," Chrissy giggled.

"Oh, you're hilarious," Steve said and hit her with one of her pillows.

They threw pillows and blankets onto the floor of her room before sitting down with their hot chocolate. It was quiet between them all as they drank and looked at the floor thoughtfully.

"We have to find him," Dustin said.

"How?" Eddie asked.

"Well, Chrissy's powers, of course," Dustin said. "El used hers to find Will, Chrissy, and Barb in the Upside Down. She was low on juice, so we had to use a sensory deprivation tank, a homemade one. I don't think we're going to need that. Something to cover her eyes, silence, and static from the radio."

"Well, what if my powers aren't exactly like El's?" Chrissy asked.

"We'll cross that bridge when we get to it," Dustin replied.

Chrissy hummed as she sipped her hot chocolate and leaned against Eddie. She rubbed her hand over his knee before playing with a piece of black thread. After they all finished their hot chocolate, Chrissy sat crossed legged in the middle of the room. Eddie knelt beside her and tied his bandana around her head, his fingers brushing against the back of her neck. Eddie leaned over her and gave her a soft kiss before pulling back.

"You've got this," Eddie said. "Witch."

"Freak," Chrissy grinned.

They turned the radio to an empty station, and Chrissy let the sound wash over her as everyone in the room kept quiet. For a moment, nothing happened, and then Chrissy was in what they called the void. There was nothing around her but darkness and water beneath her feet. She thought about Dart, and for a moment, she had seen him, tunneling his way underneath Hawkins. But then she lost him.

"Chrissy. . ."

That was the voice from her nightmares, who always called out to her from the darkness. How was he calling out to her here?

"Chrissy, this doesn't involve you, not yet. I'm not ready for you," the man's voice said. "When I am, you will be mine. We'll see each other soon."

Suddenly, it was like someone had pushed her out, and she was falling. Chrissy gasped as she fell backward into someone's arms. Someone yanked off the bandana and pressed it to her bleeding nose.

"Well?" Dustin asked.

"I couldn't find him. I tried to. . .but it was like someone was pushing me out of the void," Chrissy said. "I don't - there was a voice. . ."

Eddie wrapped his arms around his shaking girlfriend, pressing his cheek against the top of her head.

"Okay, well, does anyone else have any other plans?" Eddie asked.

They had spent most of the night trying to come up with a plan to find Dart. It wasn't the best plan, but it was the only thing they could think of. The next day, the group bought buckets of bloody meat and drove to the train tracks, leading to the junkyard. They would drop trails of bloody meat on the tracks, hoping Dart would follow them all the way to the junkyard where they would be waiting for him. It was where they were now, and after finally getting in contact with Lucas, he would be meeting them there.

"Oh, this is so disgusting. I don't want to do this. I'm leaving," Robin grimaced.

"Well, I suppose we could let Dart attack the town," Eddie said.

"Ugh, fine," Robin sighed.

"So, let me get this straight. You kept something potentially dangerous in order to impress a girl whom you just met?" Steve asked Dustin in disbelief.

"Dustin!" Chrissy exclaimed.

"That isn't how you impress a girl, man," Eddie said.

"How'd you impress Chrissy?" Dustin asked.

"Man, after all this time, I still don't know. Sheer dumb luck?" Eddie asked, and Chrissy giggled. "All I know is that is definitely not the way to go."

"Anyway! That's grossly oversimplyfing things, Steve," Dustin said.

"Why would a girl like a slug anyway?" Steve asked.

"Hey, girls could like slugs if they wanted to. I mean, this girl doesn't, but other girls, sure," Robin said. "Don't be sexist, Steven."

"Yeah, Steve, don't be sexist," Dustin grinned. "Besides, it's an interdimensional slug. It's awesome."

"Well, even if she thought it was cool, which she didn't, I just. . .I just think you're trying too hard," Steve said.

"Well, not everyone can have your perfect hair, alright?" Dustin said.

"It's not about the hair, man," Steve said.

"I don't know, man, that hair is pretty magnetic," Eddie said teasingly.

"Shut up, Munson," Steve replied, smirking and turning to Dustin with a sigh. "A year ago, I probably would have some stupid shit about how with girls you have to pretend like you don't care. That's clearly not the way to go. I think there needs to be a balance. You don't want to lay all your cards on the table, but give her a little something that's not going to scare her away and then slowly reveal everything over time."

"Then what?" Dustin asked.

"Then you wait until you feel it," Steve said.

"Feel what?" He asked.

"It's like before it's going to storm, you can feel it, like this electricity," Steve said.

"Oh, like in the electromagnetic field when the clouds in the atmosphere - "

"No. . .no. . .no, like sexual electricity," he said.

"Oh."

"You feel that, and then you make your move," Steve said.

"That's when you kiss her?" Dustin asked.

"Woah, woah! Slow down, Romeo!" Steve exclaimed. "Sure, some girls want you to be aggressive, you know, strong, hot and heavy like. . . Like a . . ."

"Like a lion?"

"Yeah," Steve said. "But others, you know, you got to be slow and stealthy like a ninja."

"What type of girl is Nancy?" Dustin asked.

"Nancy's different. She's different than the other girls," Steve said.

"Yeah, she seems pretty special," Dustin said.

"Yeah," Steve agreed.

"But this girl is special too. . .there's something about her," Dustin said.

"Are you falling for her?" Steve asked.

"I don't know," Dustin shrugged.

"Hey, don't try to grow up too fast, alright? You've got plenty of time for that later," Steve said.

"In our line of work?" Dustin asked.

"Hey, we're going to be just fine, butthead," Steve said and knocked the hat down over his eyes.

Chrissy smiled at both of them, and for a moment, she was tempted to steal Steve away from Nancy with Eddie. In another life, she could see Steve and Eddie together. Maybe she would have been with Nancy or Heather. In another life, though, in someone else's story. She could have ended up with Steve, too, if their parents hadn't tried to force them together. Chrissy smiled at Eddie, looking at Steve and Dustin ever so softly. No, this was who she was supposed to be with in this life, and she didn't doubt that Eddie knew that too. He looked over at her, and his grin widened. She leaned against him, pressing her cheek against his shoulder. Eddie kissed her forehead.

"I fucking miss Ronnie," Robin sighed. "On the other hand, I'm glad she's not here."

"Yeah, me too," Eddie said.

After Steve revealed his hair care secrets to everyone, they made it to the junkyard. Lucas made it just a minute later with a redheaded girl in tow.

"I said medium well!" Lucas exclaimed.

"The bloodier, the better!" Chrissy exclaimed.

"Who's that?" Steve asked.

"That's Max Mayfield, the girl I was telling you about," Dustin said.

"I think that's Hargrove's stepsister, I saw her get into his car," Robin said.

"Shit," Eddie said.

"You told her?" Dustin asked.

"You told Eddie?" Lucas asked.

"Chrissy told Eddie!" Dustin yelled.

"Chrissy told Eddie because someone kept a goddamn baby demogorgon in his room!" Eddie exclaimed.

"Let's just get to work!" Steve exclaimed.

As the others began to secure the bus to hide in, Dustin and Lucas hid behind a car to hide in. Eddie and Chrissy watched in amusement as Steve scolded them before stomping back over to the others.

"The kids misbehaving, Mama?" Eddie asked.

"Don't call me that," Steve scowled.

"It's tough," Chrissy said.

"Tell me about it," Steve sighed, rolling his eyes at Eddie.

"I gave my mom problems too when she first adopted me," Chrissy grinned, and Eddie laughed.

"Oh, not you too," Steve sighed.

"Sounds like Mama needs a nap," Robin said, popping her head out of the bus and looking down at them.

"Okay, what about me makes you think I'm a mom?" Steve asked as he put his hands on hips.

"Hmm, it might be your child bearing hips," Eddie winked.

"Or your stance," Chrissy giggled.

"The yellow dish gloves don't help either," Eddie said.

"It's just your entire aura," Robin said. "It just screams mommy material."

"Or it could be because Dustin has now imprinted on you like a baby duck," Chrissy laughed.

"You guys are hilarious," Steve sighed loudly.

"I think they are," Max laughed.

"Max, right?" Chrissy asked.

"Yeah," Max said. "Chrissy, right? You're Dustin's sister."

"Yeah," Chrissy said. "Sorry, Lucas got you involved in all of this. He really shouldn't have."

"I'm not even sure I really believe him," Max sighed.

"It is the kind of thing you have to see to believe," Eddie said. "Eddie Munson, by the way."

Max stared at him and then at the pins on his vest. She stared at him doubtfully for a moment, and it took Chrissy a minute to realize what Max might have been thinking.

"He's nothing like your dickhead stepbrother," Chrissy said and paused. "If that's what you were thinking. I know that doesn't really mean anything because you don't know us, but you'll pick that up as you go. He's an asshole for sure, but he's got heart, and he looks out for people."

"Right," Max said softly, but she still looked unsure.

"I'm going to prove it to you, Mayfield," Eddie said, flashing his dimples at her. "I'm nothing more than Chrissy's cuddly Eddie bear who happens to be deathly afraid of spiders."

He shuddered, and the corner of Max's mouth turned up slightly. She shoved her sleeves up and picked up the metal sheet. Chrissy's eyes fell on a bruise that was on her wrist. It was as though someone had held on tightly. Chrissy would know. She had been given enough of those from her birth mother to recognize that bruise on Max's arm.

"Did Billy do that?" Chrissy asked without thinking.

Max huffed, yanked her sleeve down, and stormed into the bus. Chrissy sighed and closed her eyes. Of course, he did, and of course Max wouldn't want to answer.

"I'm going to fucking kill him, Chrissy. That's it, I'm going to jail for murder," Eddie said.

"Oh, baby, let's just focus on the task at hand," Chrissy said with a sigh and rubbed his shoulder. "We'll do everything we can to help her out later."

Once they reinforced the bus and dumped the meat, they climbed aboard to wait. Her brother was staring moodily at Max and Lucas, who seemed pretty close now. Chrissy looked at her brother in sympathy and caught his eye.

"Focus," Chrissy mouthed. "Breathe."

Dustin nodded and started doing his breathing exercises before sitting down next to Steve. Eddie smirked and caught Steve’s eye with a wave of his hand.

"Mama," Eddie mouthed and acted like he was cradling a baby.

Steve flipped him off, and Eddie cackled before cupping his hands under his chin as though he was begging for it. Steve smiled and shook his head, flipping his lighter.

"So, you really fought one of these things before?" Max asked. "And you're totally sure it wasn't a bear?"

"Shit, don't be an idiot. It wasn't a bear," Lucas said.

"Why are you even here if you don't believe us?" Dustin snapped. "Just go home."

"Dusty! That was rude!" Chrissy scolded.

"Geesh, someone's cranky," Max said. "Past your bedtime?"

Lucas and Max moved to the top of the bus to watch from above. It worried Chrissy to no end, and every so often, she looked at the roof to keep an eye on them. They weren't that far away, and everything was so quiet that it wasn't hard to hear what she was saying to Lucas. Her parents got divorced, and her when her mom married her stepdad, they wanted a fresh start away from her dad. Billy hadn't been too happy about his new family, but he couldn't take it out on Max's mom, so she became his target for his anger.

"I know I can be a jerk like him sometimes, but I don't want to be like him. Ever," Max said. "I guess I'm angry, too. . ."

It broke Chrissy's heart that this girl thought that because she was angry that she was anything like her abusive older stepbrother. Dustin's shoulder slumped, and he looked guilty now. Judging by the looks that Robin, Steve, and Eddie were sharing, they were planning something nefarious for Billy. Chrissy had never seen them look so dark before. Eddie was about to open his mouth to say something when they heard a loud growling sound from outside.

"Lucas, what's going on?" Dustin asked.

"Hold on!" Lucas exclaimed. "I've got eyes on him! Ten o'clock!"

They watched a shadowy figure move through the fog. It was hard to tell. It could have been anything, but Chrissy knew that it wasn't. She could feel it. The demogorgon wasn't taking the bait. The kids were now back in the bus and watching from the windows. Steve stepped outside of the bus.

"Steve!" Robin hissed.

"Stay on the bus," he told her. "And get ready."

"Steve!" Chrissy exclaimed.

"What's he doing?" Max asked.

"Expanding the menu," Eddie said.

"Come on, buddy," Steve said as he twirled the bat. "Come on, dinner time. Human tastes better than cat."

"He's crazy," Max said.

"He's awesome," Dustin said.

Chrissy moved to get closer to the door when Eddie stopped her.

"Woah, what are you doing?" Eddie asked.

"Helping Steve," she said.

"What the fuck?" Eddie hissed. "Baby, no!"

"I'm not going to let him face that thing out there alone when I have the power to help him," Chrissy said. "Eddie, I'll be fine. You and Robin stay with the kids."

Chrissy kissed him deeply and released herself from his grasp. She left the bus and stood beside Steve. He didn't look surprised to see her. He knew her too well. Suddenly, though, it wasn't just Dart, or maybe Dart wasn't there at all. Either way, Steve and Chrissy were surrounded by demogorgons. It felt strange not having the comfort of Will there or not being able to sense him since she unlocked her powers again. This time, she wasn't waiting around for people to rescue her. This time, she was on the outside. She flung her hand out and sent one of the demogorgons back, blood gushing from her nose as she used her power. While she was focused on one, Steve was focused on the other. They worked, back to back, to fight the monsters off. It was going to take everything she had to kill these fucking things. Chrissy was already growing weaker. Suddenly, Steve was grabbing her arm and pushing her onto the bus. There were just too many of them. They managed to slip inside and close the door behind them. Of course, someone forgot to close the hatch. A demogorgon peered through the hatch down at Max, and she screamed. Steve pushed her behind him and into Robin's arms, wielding the bat like a sword.

"You want some? Come get this!" Steve yelled furiously, shaking the bat at the creature.

Suddenly, the demogorgon picked up its head and took off with the others.

"What happened? Did Steve scare it off?" Lucas asked.

"No way," Steve scoffed.

"No, they're going somewhere else," Chrissy said.

The place they were going turned out to be Hawkins' Lab. They followed the tracks to the lab, and they burst through the trees quite suddenly, startling the others waiting near the entrance. Nancy, Jonathan, and Argyle jumped at the sight of them.

"Nancy?!" Robin exclaimed. "You scared the shit out of me! You disappeared and then shit hit the fucking fan! Don't you ever do that again!"

Robin breathed a sigh of relief and hugged her tightly. The two sisters refused to let each other go as Nancy apologized profusely.

"What's Eddie doing here?" Jonathan asked.

"Good to see you too, Byers," Eddie said sarcastically.

"No, seriously," he said.

"Long story short, Dustin tried to keep a baby demogorgon as a pet, and I saw it eat Mews," Eddie replied.

"Oh, man, that's crazy," Argyle said. "Poor Mews."

Chrissy moved towards the gate. She could feel Will's presence now, but it felt faint as though it was clouded by something. They needed to get in there, but the power was down. Suddenly, she felt another presence now at the back of her mind.

"You interfered enough now, Christine. Sleep."

And sleep she did.

Chapter Twenty-One

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catacini · 2 years ago

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this is so me overthinking but the only reason people hate wasps is because they're able and willing to stand up for themselves. when you consider the way we treat every other bug, i really don't blame any insect for having the power to argue with humans and using it. i'm not saying oh, we have to be nice to bugs, cuz i'm not nice to bugs. but if you're swatting every spider you see you really have no leg to stand on insulting wasps.

i don't trust anyone whose only response to weaker creatures that don't bend the knee to our presence is open hatred. i don't trust those people around women, because i've been a woman with a bad attitude. i don't trust those people around children, because i've been a child with a bad attitude. people are VIOLENT when someone weaker than them isn't friendly enough in their opinion. if i were actually able to protect myself and demand the right to be surly without being punished, i wouldn't be nearly as neurotic as i am. i'm jealous of wasps!

and i don't care that a wasp stung you for no reason that one time. i don't care if they built a nest in your mom's porch and she couldn't go out that door all summer. i've gone to the emergency room before because i have a severe wasp allergy. if they're in the way, kill them. but you have no business hating anything that small. think of what a wasp can do to you. now think hard about what you can do to a wasp. it can't kill you, unless you're allergic like i am. all it can do is force you to treat it with respect. the nerve.

#POST #this is my most overcooked opinion and i stand by it

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inquisitornocturn · 7 months ago

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≪─ Qᴜᴇꜱᴛᴀ ɴᴏᴛᴇ ─≫

⋟ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Beckett/f!reader the kindred, Sebastian LaCroix/reader as background pairing

⋟ 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: y/n etc is not used, rating - E, POV second person, cheating, mild dubcon, smut, fingering, PiV, anal, deepthroating, facefucking, masturbation, cum swallowing, semi-public sex, porn with little plot.

⋟ 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: When you're nearly immortal your past tends to collect mistakes that sometimes catch up with you, just like tonight when you see that one of such possible mistakes have again decided to appear in your life, despite your best efforts to avoid it. Thankfully Sebastian doesn't notice a flash of panic as you notice that Beckett is present at this gathering in Nocturne Theater, but he also doesn't know what kind of past you share you with the Gangrel Elder who's allergic to swearing allegiance to anyone but himself. You hope he doesn't notice you, but when anything ever slipped past Beckett's keen senses?

⋟ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5,644

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: first of all - thank you L for not letting me forget Beckett's claws♡ second - i guess i'm back in the saddle, so to speak! this was fun to write and it's actually quite an old idea that someone suggested to me in passing when i first introduced Beckett to my longfic a minute to midnight. the suggestion was for a part two of it which, i'll admit, i am not going to do, because the fic is not even done at the moment of me posting this, no way i'm going to plan a second part so early (if at all), but the idea of the dynamic between the three of them kind of stuck so here it is - albeit brief, but fiery take on how it could possibly work. enjoy♡~

“Competence in this organization is truly scarce.” Sebastian murmurs by your side and you hear disdain in his words. You can barely stop yourself from rolling your eyes, but manage to keep yourself composed as you look at him.

“You say that decade after decade.” You remind him and his eyes snap to you, his blonde eyebrows furrowing at your perceived insolence, and you see his fingers tightening around the glass of blood he’s holding.

“That’s because it remains factual. Camarilla lacks dedicated, talented people. That’s why we’re here, in hostile territory trying to make things right.” He snaps back and peels his eyes away from you, scanning the crowd at this function.

Nocturne Theatre, one of the places LaCroix anointed to be an Elysium, is packed with other kindred tonight. The Primogen are here, including the elusive Dr. Grout who seems to keep himself apart from the rabble. Earlier you watched him for a little while, observing the man as he tried not to twitch, not to hide behind his own glass of blood, as he whispered to himself from time to time. Malkavians, what an interesting breed of kindred.

You are tempted to argue with Sebastian, to tell him that LA is not as hostile as he thinks it is. It’s hostile to him, surely, and perhaps the Camarilla presence overall, but otherwise it’s a decent city. You met the Hollywood Baron, and one in Santa Monica, both of them attending this gathering as well, but at the moment neither of them is in your eyesight.

“Look at them and tell me that they don’t need a leader.” Sebastian speaks up again once you don’t and you watch him gesture over some figures. You try to understand who he means exactly and struggle because it could be anyone from Nines Rodriguez to VV, who thankfully is dressed appropriately tonight, to-

Oh no.

Your eyes widen for a moment and you turn your face away, hiding it behind your glass by taking a sip. Quickly you clear your throat.

“Yes, of course they need a leader, that’s why you’re here.” You don’t hesitate to placate Sebastian’s growing irritation and breathe a sigh of relief when he clearly misses your reaction to seeing one particular guest lingering among the kindred, chatting up Primogen Strauss among all people.

Beckett.

You heard rumors that he might be in LA, you even heard rumors that he’s here to mingle with thin-bloods that seem to be littering the Santa Monica beach, but you hoped that Tung’s grapevine gossip is not true. You aren’t so lucky, it seems.

As you glance in Beckett’s direction, seeing the same dusty coat he wore last time you saw him, seeing his dark brown hair loose as always, and his charming yet often sarcastic smile - you remember all too well why you have been trying to avoid him.

Before you ended up with Sebastian you were with Beckett. Very briefly, very tumultuously, very passionately. You ran into each other in Paris, where you were trying to distance yourself from your Sire who remained in Italy and Beckett was chasing yet another meager, fallible clue to one of the questions he always is looking the answers for.

You met in a kindred bar, another Elysium, where you were trying to plan your next steps and Beckett was annoyed that some sort of contact stood him up. You barely remember what happened next, you drank, a lot, some sort of special blood that made you feel drunk in a way you used to feel when you were alive. Beckett most likely was drunk too, maybe against his own better judgement, but next evening you woke up with him in your bed, your body sore and cut from his claw-like nails, your head swimming and a strange affair that caught up with you couple decades later in another city. You were with Sebastian already, but Beckett didn’t care and he took the opportunity to remind you just exactly how he made you feel before.

Cheating kindreds, what a concept. Do morals of kine even apply to you?

For a moment you wonder that as you look at Sebastian, still lingering by your side and sipping thick liquid from the glass, his cold, blue eyes settling from one attendee to another. He wasn’t a Prince back then, when you cheated behind his back, but he is now and you wonder what would happen if Beckett again decided that satisfying his desires comes as a priority above all else. So many things he treats like this, not just you.

“Hm. I think it’s time to talk to Grout. He started skipping most meetings.” LaCroix says to you half-heartedly, not really caring if you’re listening or not, so you simply nod and get slightly startled when his icy gaze turns to you with a strange warning in them. “Remember to behave. I haven’t been Prince for long, your behavior reflects on me, is that understood?”

“Yes, Sebastian.”

“Try that again.”

You scrunch your nose ever so slightly, knowing what he wants to hear and not wanting to comply with his ever-growing ego, but you sigh slightly.

“Yes, Prince.” You finally respond and Sebastian smirks at you, showing off his fangs that find their way into your flesh so often.

“Good, good. Now, I shall excuse myself.” He says and walks off without giving you another glance.

You sigh the moment he’s further, watching him approach Dr. Grout and seeing Primogen’s eyes widen momentarily as LaCroix walks up to him, but your eyes quickly return to Beckett. He’s still talking to Strauss but now he’s at an angle that you can see his face better and the sunglasses on his nose, you can even make out his red, glowing eyes that you remember so well when they burn with passion.

You have to hide.

You can’t let Beckett see you because you don’t know in what kind of mood he is. Maybe he has another to satisfy him or maybe he doesn’t, but in either case he might still want to play with you, simply because he one hundred percent knows that you’re a chosen partner of Prince of LA. And what’s a better way to boost his own ego than to temporarily claim something that’s not his. After all, his entire career as a kindred anthropologist is based on exactly this kind of behavior and you haven’t been able to resist him the first two times he wanted to lay his claim.

Carefully you begin stepping backwards, only now realizing why you haven’t sensed him before seeing him, his attendance catching you so off guard. With so many kindred around it’s hard to notice even his presence, but that matters none because he’s here and so are you, and you understand that you have to retreat to the lobby before you stand out, so you turn your back and pick right side of the room to serve as your escape route. You take note of the scattered crowd: some in seats, some standing in groups and there’s even some ghoul servers, but you don’t know if they are Sebastian’s or anyone else’s. Either way, you see the open door and that’s your goal, that’s what you focus on.

After short walk alongside the row of seats you turn left, seeing your salvation so close, seeing Gary of all people lingering there as well, and he grins widely to you as you have no choice but to approach. When you’re about to greet him, out of necessity and not friendship, you hear someone speak and it’s not the Nosferatu Primogen because his face doesn’t move.

“Ah, I was hoping to see you.” A smooth voice you recognize so well and you stop in your tracks.

Shit.

He did notice you after all. Maybe your not-so-discreet escape drew his attention or maybe he was just waiting for you to separate from the crowd. Either way, when your eyes move to the speaker, you see Beckett with his head slightly cocked to the side and a curious look already set on your face over his sunglasses.

You take a moment to compose yourself and manage a strained smile.

“Beckett. Surprised to see you here.” You say in a voice that even to you sounds forced and notice Gary giving a glance to you both.

“I take you know each other well.” He chuckles in that gravelly voice of his and for a moment you wish you could strangle the damned Nosferatu with his own bowtie. You don’t need anyone making this more awkward than it is.

“We know each other.” Beckett replies, giving Gary a short look before looking back at you. “Would you be so kind and give me a moment of your time? I’d like to discuss something of great import.” He continues and you clench your jaw for a moment then smile.

“Wouldn’t it be best if the Prince heard it?” you ask, trying not to let your mind wander to sudden memories of his animalistic, near feral kisses. Sebastian never came anywhere close to the passion you experienced with Beckett, and sometimes you still think of him instead of the Prince when fucks you whenever his mercurial mood strikes.

“No, this is a matter that’s best heard by his beloved partner.” Beckett’s words are tinged with sarcasm and you want to wipe that arrogant grin off his face, but with Gary watching you have no other choice but to play by the rules of diplomacy.

“Hah, beloved partner. I’m sure she is very loved by our wonderous Prince.” Gary interjects with another one of his chuckles and you raise your eyebrows at him.

“Do you have anything you want to say, Gary?” you ask with your tone cold as a cadaver and Gary chuckles again then raises his palms in show of surrender.

“Not at all, boss. Just being observant, but I can tell when I have overstayed my welcome.” He grins, his lips, or what’s left of them, twisting in a cynical manner and he gives you a short bow of his head before he glances at Beckett. “I’m sure we will talk again.” Nosferatu says to him and walks past the man, choosing the middle aisle to stroll towards the main gathering without looking back.

You watch him go with slightly confused expression, now wondering what kind of rumors are spreading about you and Sebastian. What kind of gossip can there even be? You are together, neither of you sleep around, well, except for that one time in your past that’s been out of your control and that is now presenting itself to you again in a form of Beckett’s sardonic smile.

“I was actually hoping to see you.” He says and you look at him, your eyes meeting his over the sunglasses that he has lowered down his nose.

“What for?” you snap at him and Beckett raises his eyebrows at your drastic change of tone.

“Can’t two old friends talk?” he smirks and you grit your teeth, your eyes briefly glancing over his shoulder to the attendees by the stage, noticing Sebastian’s blonde hair while he’s surrounded by what looks like VV and Therese. You worry not, he hates both of them with visceral seething.

“Friends?” you scoff and Beckett’s smirk widens as he steps closer, his fingers quickly and firmly closing around your wrist. His other hand grabs your glass and sets it on a backrest of the nearest theater chair before you can protest.

“Old acquaintances.” He responds in a quieter tone and for a moment he too glances back, most likely making sure that no one is paying close attention to the both of you, then he steps past you, outside of the stage room and into the dimly lit lobby while pulling you after him.

“Beckett, you can’t be serious.” You hiss at him as you follow him against your will. With couple tugs you try to free your limb from his grasp with no luck, his clawed fingers only tightening around it further and you sigh in capitulation. Maybe he only wants to talk.

Once in the lobby, where no one else seems to be present, he stops and turns to you. Beckett’s eyes quickly sweep over you, your tight red dress and the slit in it over your thigh, your décolleté that reveals nearly more than it hides and pauses at your neck before his studying gaze meets yours once more.

“Climbing the kindred ladder I see. You sensed well that Sebastian will be your ticket to upper echelons of Camarilla.” His mocking grin pokes at your anger and you have to remind yourself who he is and where you are, but he always knew just what to say to get you either aroused or pissed off. Sometimes both at the same time.

“I’m not with him to be his stay-at-home wife, Beckett.” You frown and try to tug your wrist out of his hand again with no luck.

“No, you’re with him because he offers protection. And that hulking monkey at his side, of course.” He chuckles, always so damn arrogant because he’s an Elder. Or maybe he always has been like that, before the centuries piled up.

“Is this what you wanted to talk to me about?” you ask growing more irate by the moment, but Beckett clicks his tongue at you.

“So impatient. Not even a Fledgling anymore but some things do not change, I suppose.” He taunts again, making your frown deepen, not because of his mocking but because he’s wrong.

“You don’t know how I was when I was a Fledgling, don’t act as if you’ve known me my entire immortal existence.” You tug at your wrist again and this time Beckett’s grip tightens enough to begin hurting, but you don’t betray it, just stare him down as he sighs with another chuckle.

“No, but I know your Sire. Or rather, your dear old dead Sire.” He laughs and with free hand he grips your chin, lifting your face to his like he wants to inspect it. His body draws closer for a better look and you clench your jaw, not moving your eyes from his. “I did want to talk to you about something but now that I see you, I might have another idea.” He whispers and your mind reels for an answer, trying to avoid settling on the obvious one.

You are caught off guard by his words so much so that you don’t even notice how his fingers are becoming warmer against your skin, how the glow in his cat-like eyes becomes a little brighter. Your gaze leaves him for a moment, glancing in the direction of the door to the stage room, but your plan of escape is immediately reduced to nothing as Beckett releases your chin and turns, making quick strides to a door. You scramble after him, your heels hindering your steps, and you briefly notice the sign on the door, informing you that he’s pulling you into women’s bathroom.

The moment you are shoved into the small area, you try to turn, to maybe push back and leave, but once the door closes it becomes completely dark. Kindred have no use of bathrooms after all, there’s no light here and in utter darkness you have less of a fighting chance against a man like Beckett.

You feel the grip on the back of your neck and only the sound of your heels and his shoes fill the silence as he guides you forwards. You orient where you are quickly the moment you see the dull reflection of Beckett’s eyes in the mirror and you manage to grasp the edge of the sink just before he pushes the side of your face against the cold glass.

“Beckett, you can’t, what if Sebastian-“

“But that’s part of the thrill, dear.” He chuckles and you finally notice how hot his palm of on your neck feels. Your eyes adjust to the darkness and you see shadowy reflection of your own face as it is pressed against the mirror. You want to argue further but Gangrel’s free hand begins roaming over your waist.

“Thrill for us to get killed?” you ask in a breathy voice. You don’t struggle and you don’t fight because you do want this. Sleeping with Sebastian is so boring after all, not after you know how good sex can really feel, even for kindred.

Beckett laughs at your words, his hand now beginning to lift your dress in hurried movements, pulling it up and twisting the fabric, maneuvering the slit in it so that it falls on both sides of your hips like an opening while he has you bent over the sink.

“Sebastian cannot kill me. He may be a Camarilla Prince, but he’s still just a brat.” He taunts the very notion of Sebastian being any threat for him whatsoever and you hear the sound of fabric ripping as Beckett gets rid of your panties swiftly and efficiently.

“Beckett!” you hiss at him when hems of them dig into your skin for a moment before they are completely torn off and you hear a chuckle.

“Sorry, darling, they were in the way. And you know how I am about things that try to stop me from getting what I want.” He replies and makes you gasp the moment you feel his fingers rubbing at your folds from behind, vampire’s touch passionate and expert, making sure his claws do not hurt you, only allowing them to scrape against you.

Beckett’s skin is like embers upon yours, now that he’s using the Discipline to rouse himself and his body from its usual dead state, and you moan despite yourself. You’re aroused but you’re not wet and he can feel it, for that you need to follow his suit and trigger power of your blood to simulate life for you to fully enjoy what he’s about to do to you.

“Hm, you still feel just like I remember.” Beckett whispers and you feel his lips trail over your back where the dress doesn’t cover it, searing trails left in his wake as he moves a hand from behind you and now in front of you, beginning to rub your clit in quick, precise circles. You moan again. “Come on, I know you want this, you’re not even struggling.” He taunts again and you gasp when his fingers toy with your clit in a way that makes your knees weak.

“We can’t, I can’t.” You respond in a whisper and Beckett lets out a short, silent growl of annoyance then he scoffs.

“You’ll change your mind in a moment.” He says and you hear taunting in his tone again before his fingers leave your body, his hand still firmly pressed against the back of your neck and you begin hearing sounds of fabric being shifted around, then a clink of a belt buckle being maneuvered and lastly the promising sound of a zipper being pulled down.

“Beckett, please.” You whisper and not because you truly want him to stop but because the risk of being caught is just too great. What if Sebastian notices you’re gone? What if Gary ‘subtly’ tells Prince that before you disappeared he saw you talking to Beckett? What if?

“Begging now? How delightfully unexpected.” Beckett taunts and you feel the warm tip of his cock nudge at your folds, then slide slightly up to your entrance before he begins to push himself in.

You make a sound through your clenched teeth. The sensation is not the most pleasant, but it’s not entirely unpleasant either as he forces himself into you inch by deliberate inch.

“If you only let yourself enjoy it a little this might be much much more pleasant for you.” Beckett speaks and you know he’s right because by the time his impressive length is buried inside of you to the fullest you feel mostly pain. Blood tears gather in your eyes from the discomfort and your fingers grip the edge of the sink so tightly you feel like you could tear it off the wall with one pull. “Come on, dear.” His voice is dripping honey against your ear as he whispers, hot breath fawning over your skin and hair. “Submit to me.”

With that Beckett begins to pull out, readying himself for another thrust, and you know you have no choice. He won’t stop and not using the Discipline out of principle is stupid and childish. So you give in, needing only a moment to concentrate and active the only thing that will elevate this from painful to pleasurable.

You feel your limbs beginning to warm up, your heart beginning to beat, you inhale, feeling your lungs fill with air in a different way compared to when you simulate breathing. And your body responds to the abusive invasion, you feel yourself becoming wetter by the second and hear Beckett exhale with satisfaction.

“This is much, much better.” He commends with satisfied tone in his voice and then he thrusts into you again, this time his passage easier, smoother. His fingers once more move around you to your clit and he begins rubbing it once more, urging your body to respond, to give him what he needs – your arousal.

“You’re a bastard.” You whisper against the mirror, your breath now fogging it and you hear Beckett chuckle behind you, a third thrust being easier than previous two, your cunt quickly becoming soaked so much so that you feel some of it drop down your inner thigh as he thrusts into you again.

“And you’re overflowing.” He taunts and makes you moan when two of his claws scrape against your folds that are enveloping his shaft as he plunges into you again. “And so tight.” He mocks against your ear, enjoying how your body is still going through stages of temporary revival, and you let out a sound again as his cock stretches you deliciously painfully.

“Stop mocking me.” You snap at him much weaker than you wanted and Beckett nips at your ear with a chuckle.

“I’m not mocking you, I’m enjoying you. And I know you’re enjoying me. You love how I treat you, how I make you feel pain and pleasure at the same time. Such a little freak you are.” He whispers and you blush now, unable to deny his words. “No answer? Hard to argue with the truth, I suppose.” He goads you but you remain silent, just enjoy the feeling of his cock impaling you in slow, powerful rhythm while his fingers caress and stroke your folds. “Don’t relax just yet, I know what you truly like. After all, I was the one to introduce you to your pleasure.” Beckett nips at your ear again and you glance at him with the help of a mirror, only seeing his red eyes cast down for a moment before he straightens his back and pulls out, making you gasp from the agonizing absence his imposing cock leaves in its wake.

Beckett chuckles and his fingers slide over your stretched cunt, smearing his fingers with your arousal without digging his sharp nail in, but then it is gone too and you exhale with a whimper, wanting more, so much more.

“You’re taking fucking forever.” You murmur as you pant slightly, your grip on the sink relaxing at last and Beckett laughs softly.

“Quite literally, my dear.” He taunts and you roll your eyes before you stiffen when you feel the smooth tip of his cock now nudge at your asshole.

Your eyelids immediately droop and you bite your lower lip from anticipation. He was right, as he usually is. Beckett does know what you truly like and it’s only confirmed by your deliciously sweet whimper when he holds the base of his cock firm before beginning to push his hard length into your hole.

“That’s the kind of sound only cock in your ass can make you produce.” He says with such vulgarity that it makes your body shiver in response.

“Stop mocking me…” You moan again and Beckett scoffs at your words, his cock sliding into you with ease now that it’s been doused in your arousal.

“I’m complimenting you, dear.” Beckett corrects you and you smirk slightly, moans threatening to emerge as he carefully slides into you, letting you adjust to his size and girth.

“You’re complimenting yourself.” You respond and Beckett scoffs again, arrogant and haughty as ever, before you feel his body press against your rear, letting you know he buried his cock into you as deeply as he can.

“Someone has to.” He says and you feel the grip on your neck finally release you, feeling both palms on your hips now as he holds your ass in place for himself.

Before you can respond you feel Beckett’s lips on your back and then he draws his own hips back, before slamming right back in. You cry out and immediately clasp your palm over your mouth, moving your face and pressing your forehead against the mirror as pleasure nearly drowns your mind immediately. Your knees are weak and if you weren’t bent over the sink with Beckett holding you up, you would not be able to remain upright.

“There, the best compliment there is, a woman being so pleasured she’s close to losing her wits.” Beckett whispers against your skin and you feel his tongue trace alongside your spine for a moment before he at last starts thrusting.

You have to keep yourself quiet, you know that your very life depends on it. The bathroom is just too close to the stage room and someone might come out and hear, so you keep a palm over your mouth, trying to muffle your moans that are becoming louder the harder Beckett pounds into your ass. You bite your lower lip with your front teeth and your fangs nick your skin but you don’t even feel it. The pleasure is too great, and the pain of being stretched like this has wiped your brain from near all thoughts. You’re not sure you even remember your own name.

“You always took me so well, that’s what I like about you.” Beckett’s whisper is now against your shoulder and you feel his teeth as he bites down without drawing blood.

You whimper and then do it louder when his claws finally dig into your skin, slicing into it like daggers as the Elder grips your hips with supernatural strength. He needs it to keep you in place because he’s plowing into you with such force that you have to press palm of your other hand against the wall so that your back doesn’t break under tension.

Beckett swears under his breath after he releases your shoulder from his teeth and suddenly he pulls out, making you whine in protest, you felt like you were getting close to your bliss even like this, but Beckett has other plans.

He grabs your waist and turns you around, making you stumble on your unsteady legs and he leans in, giving your open mouth a fiery kiss before you feel him grip your arms and force you down to your knees. Your knees slip on the floor and you fall with your ass on cold tiles, your knees splayed and your panting filling the room in the moment of silence.

Beckett chuckles and grips your chin, pulling it up before he pushes two fingers into your mouth, making it salivate at the intrusion as he rubs pads of his digits against your tongue. You can barely see him in the darkness except for the eyes, those you can always see, and you clearly see as they watch you with lustful pride.

“Open wide.” He commands and you let your jaw become slack before his fingers leave your mouth and now his cock taps against your lower lip.

You swallow the saliva just in time, because he thrusts his length into your throat and when you instinctually try to pull back, Beckett grabs your hair and keeps your head in place.

“Come on now, dear, you know how to take it, no need to fuss.” Beckett croons and you know he’s right. You lean towards him, feeling the tip of his cock sliding alongside your tongue and nudging at your throat before you make it slide even deeper, until your nose is right against his pelvis, your tongue pressing hard to the underside of his length and you hear Beckett exhale with undeniable satisfaction. “Good girl.”

You whine around his cock, vibrations of your voice sending a shiver down his spine before he begins thrusting. He’s close, you know it, that’s why you’re on the floor, getting your mouth fucked, he likes hearing you sputter and struggle when he comes down your throat.

“Don’t deny yourself, darling, touch yourself. I want to feel you come.” Becket encourages and you don’t hesitate, your fingers quickly moving between your spread legs and finding your clit, still throbbing with need.

You begin to massage the nub, making yourself moan as you do so, your ass still feeling sore from taking his cock but it’s a pleasant feeling, one you relish as Beckett thrusts into your throat faster and faster. Your jaw is screaming from pain, it’s hard for you to accommodate him like this but you enjoy this feeling too. Part of the reason why you didn’t even resist him pulling you into this bathroom even if you spoke of it.

“Come for me, come on.” Beckett urges you, his breaths heavy and his voice unsteady while his other hand also tangles and grips your hair, making you whine as his pumps start becoming erratic.

Your fingers rub your clit faster and you don’t need much effort to feel the heat spreading between your legs and in your lower abdomen. Pleasure knots at first, taking over your mind completely and you unravel, your muscles spasm and your fingers stutter as you rub yourself to draw out your pleasure as much as you can while you moan around Beckett’s cock.

And then he comes too.

You have nearly forgotten that he’s fucking your face and when his hot and thick cum spurts at the back of your throat, coating it, you begin to sputter and choke, forgetting to swallow at first.

“Fuck! Swallow it all.” Beckett grunts as he moves his twitching cock in your mouth, letting your throat milk him for all he’s worth and you follow his command, finally remembering what you need to do, gulping down his seed until with one last twitch of his length last bits of it trickle down your esophagus.

He slowly pulls out, his fingers leaving your hair as he moves backwards from you and you watch his red gaze cast down on you while you listen to him move his clothes, first the zipper, then the belt buckle as you sit on the floor exhausted, disheveled and sweaty.

“We’ll meet again, I am sure.” Beckett finally says after he puts his clothes in other and then he leans over you, his fingers tilting your head up for him to press a strong, but short kiss against your lips. “After all, I’m going to be in LA for a while.” He teases with a smile against your mouth, then he pulls back, gives you another glance and walks out.

For a moment you feel blinded as the light from the lobby illuminates the bathroom when Beckett opens the door, but then it closes and you’re in darkness once again. Panting and dazed you sit for a moment longer, then grab the nearby sink to pull yourself to your feet.

“Damn it.” You swear under your breath as you grope around for the light switch and finally flip it, blinking couple times as your eyes adjust to the low brightness of the bathroom lights.

You look at yourself in the mirror, the Discipline now fading and your body cooling swiftly. You see your reflection, the bite on your shoulder, the creases in your dress and you finally notice your torn panties resting on the edge of a sink to your left. You grab them and toss them into trash, then lower your dress, trying to smooth it with an annoyed sigh. Your hair is a mess, you try to fix it too, then run some water, washing your face and rinsing your mouth. It takes you around ten more minutes to feel like you look somewhat presentable and with another swear at Beckett’s expense you exit the bathroom, only to stop immediately because he’s there, holding two glasses of blood and wearing that cocky grin on his face.

“Figured you might need some refreshments.” He taunts and you narrow your eyes at him but take the glass, still feeling ghostly soreness in your ass and jaw. You know that he knows.

“Yes, refreshments.” You mutter and take a sip, finding even this bagged provision better than nothing, then you stiffen as you see Sebastian quickly approaching, his face confident and smiling.

“There you are! I was looking for you.” He announces ignoring Beckett and then wraps an arm around your waist, barely spending half a second to look at you. “Come, Gary has something to say I want you to hear from his own… well, can’t call them lips, but let’s say mouth. If you’ll excuse us.” Sebastian shoots a dismissive glance at Beckett and begins leading you away.

As you walk with Sebastian, your knees still feeling weak and your legs still being shaky, you throw one last glance over your shoulder at Beckett and see him cheerfully wave to you before he calls out:

“Have fun.”

#vampire the masquerade #vtm #beckett #cuthbert beckett #beckett x reader #cutchbert beckett x reader #reader insert #x reader #female reader #vampire the masquerade bloodlines #vtmb #beckett fic #my vtm fics

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