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byuntrash101 · 6 months ago

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the 9th member. — 에이티즈

ateez x f!reader, smut SYNOPSIS. what would it be like to be the 9th member of ateez, only there to satisfy the urges of the others?

tags. smut scenes with every member + cheeky lil gangbang, free use, reader is lowkey a nympho, sex slave kinda vibe, oral (m & f), explicit consent, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, somno, creampie, sloppy seconds (even thirds), lots and lots of cum... + specific tags for each part. wc. 11.8k total (1k-2.5k for each part) mdni.

a/n. please prepare for this filth extravaganza. ea ch part can be reading separately. my fave parts are mingi's woo's and joong's. hope you enjoy <3

𝐀𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 9𝐓𝐇 𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐅 𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐙 you participate to all albums, promotions, shows and awards as any other member. well almost. you get the minimal amount of lines on the songs and screen time in the mv’s. some fans see untapped potential in you and find it sad, even infuriating that the company doesn’t utilize your assets. they often demand you get more recognition but to no avail. truthfully and quite frankly you couldn’t care less because it’s not why you are part of the group. what you bring to the table isn’t quantifiable in passion for high belted notes or sharp and crisp dance moves or even artistic musical vision. it all happens backstage. you are only here to make sure the boys’ needs are satisfied. It's your only purpose. and it turns out the company knows exactly how to put forth your qualities.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐍 𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒

tags: free use, indecent exposure, implied masturbation (m), implied unprotected sex, contraception, mention of safe word (not used), explicit consent wc: 0.5k

the first rule is that you are required to (1) eat well and get enough sleep to stay healthy. this could sound surprising but your body is under a lot of strain, going to the group schedules and practicing by day and relieving eight lively young men by night, so it’s important you stay healthy so you can keep on taking on your duty as the 9th member. The second rule is fairly obvious, you have to be on (2) contraceptives at all times. this is necessary to make sure you can help the boys without generating any stress towards unwanted pregnancies. for the third rule, when you’re away from the cameras and the indiscreet eyes you are strictly (3) forbidden to wear clothes (except counter order from the members or the company). which is referred to as your “uniform”. this rule serves two purposes. the first one is that the boys must not have their sexual desires tamed down; they get to have constant sexual stimulation looking at your nude body. the second one is more practical, the members have to have access to your body at anytime. if as they look at you they feel any kind of urge they have to be able to answer those instincts on sight. they particularly enjoy looking at you in the practice room, they would often stop and watch you dance and practice naked, they enjoy seeing your breasts jiggle with every jump, they enjoy seeing your ass roll with every body wave. they would often slip their hands in their sweatpants and lightly palmed themselves while they watched sweat roll from your temple and drip between your breasts. sometimes things would lead to another and you wouldn’t leave the dance studio before you are exhausted, sticky and sore. the fourth rule states that you have to (4) be as available as possible for them. sometimes they require particular care where you have to tend to their needs individually or by pairs. this requires you to have a very tight schedule where you will alternatively spend time with one member then an other. you have to manage your time so that you can spend a fair and equitable amount of times with them individually. and of course, there are times when they all collectively require you to take care of their primal urges. the fifth and last rule is to (5) have fun. it could seem out of pocket but that rule is primordial. you have a safe word you can use at all times to ensure you stay free from harm and that you take your role as the 9th member willingly. everything is consensual at all times. you are doing it because you want it. and you want it because you enjoy it. it’s a tiring job but oh so rewarding. you wouldn’t have it any other way. but what could a typical day look like for the 9th member of ateez?

𝐂𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐌 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐒𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐖𝐀 (1.58pm)

tags: very sloppy blowjob (basically your fave neat freak getting n.a.s.t.y. for you <3), apron, indecent exposure, big cock!hwa, scent kink, deepthroat (again very messy), spit kink, slight dacryphilia, praise, pet names, facial, cum eating, inspired by the unholy chair act in the will to power (yk the one) wc: 1.3k

one thing is certain with seonghwa. he despises filth and dirt. living in a space that isn't spotless is next to impossible for him so it's not an uncommon occurrence that he would ask for you to help him deep clean the dorm. for this duty seonghwa allowed you to derogate to the mandatory “uniform” to wear a sole apron, that was light blue and topstitched with white lace. he says it is to protect your skin from entering in contact with harsh cleaning products but you know it’s because he likes you cosplaying the slutty housewife.

so you help him as best you can: washing the dishes while he carefully watches over you and the soapy water running on your hands and forearms, sometimes even splashing on your chest, getting on your tippy toes to dust off the high shelves of the living room while he looks over to you and see your elegant body line extended, sometimes one of your breasts would even slip out of the apron and of course getting on your knees and lint rolling the floors along with him while he tries not to get distracted by your round ass perking up at the corner of his eyes.

that is usually the last task because at that point seonghwa is spent, in more ways than one. first, he’s tired from the hard work. his joints hurt and he’s become sweaty. but he’s also exhausted from looking at you. at this point his pants have become so tight that even walking to his silver desk chair is uncomfortable. and for you the real labor starts, all the cleaning only serves as a warm up to the true assignment: cleaning off seonghwa’s leaking cock with your tongue.

“aaah” seonghwa sighs, finally sitting down and turning the chair to you. he palms himself a little longer while you finish off lint rolling the last corner of his room. the tied apron on your back makes a pretty baby blue knot fall on your ass, decorating it so tastefully. the sight has seonghwa’s cock twitching.

“there.” you conclude. “all finished”.

“are you sure about that?” seonghwa say pulling on his lounging pants and letting his cock spring free. he chuckles when he sees you turn over, your pupils immediately dilating at the sight, you swallow thickly. you are hypnotized by it, by the way it weeps for you, by the beautiful veins that ornament it.

you start crawling to him without even realizing. without being asked you wrap your hands around the base of his cock, taking a second to admire the pretty and translucent pearl at the tip. you bring the member to your nose, feeling the soft ridges of the head against your skin and inhale a sharp breath. you’ve always liked seonghwa’s scent. he smelled like peach shower gel, talcum powder and a note of masculine musc. he always smelled so clean but also sinful. the perfect blend of heaven and hell. the kind of smell that has your mouth watering and your head spiraling.

“indeed, looks like this part still needs cleaning” you say upon further inspection, taking part in his little roleplay game.

“will you lend me a hand, darling?” seonghwa says, eyes turning sharp, contrasting with the softness of his low voice.

“i’d be more than happy to” you say before letting your tongue circle the wrinkled skin between his tip and his shaft, lapping at the ridges, then aiming it at the slit, quickly gathering the salty pearl in your mouth. you feel him throb in your hand before you wrap your lips around his tip and drag your mouth along the shaft. seonghwa lets out a breathy groan as you progress down until you can no longer go on.

“aaah- just like that” he says, gathering your hair into his fist and looking down at you with a gentle smile.

you pop him out of your mouth and look at him with watery eyes before you lick him from the tip down and gather his balls into your avid hole, sucking on them with loud wet slurping noises.

“good girl, you’re not forgetting any parts.” he strokes your hair. “i want everything squeaky clean”

he moans again, looking down at you working his balls with your mouth, massaging them with your tongue before he takes his cock in hand and presses it to your burning cheek.

“spit on it, darling” he breathes out. you pucker up and spew a big wad of warm spit right onto the head. seonghwa shudders in pleasure as he watches the thick liquid run down his cock. “keep sucking”.

“yes, seonghwa” you respond before going back to sucking his cock, getting the spit back into your mouth. once again fitting his length into your mouth and going down. this time you settle for a comfortable rhythm. you go up and down on his cock each time hollowing your cheeks, dragging beautiful sounds out of seonghwa’s plump red lips. one hand taking care of the parts you can’t reach, dragging your spit up and down and the other fondling and playing with his balls. all of this made a beautiful symphony of seonghwa’s low grunts, wet slurping noises and your eager moans muffled by the big cock stuffed in your mouth. you’re so entranced by the harmonious music that you don’t even hear yeosang next door grunting and moving around various equipment. as for seonghwa he doesn’t particularly want to have your attention drawn anywhere else than his cock so he chooses to ignore his bandmate’s rummaging.

“come on, honey, i think you’re neglecting a part,” seonghwa says between pants as you feel him twitching on your tongue. he was getting close.

for a second you are phased by his comment but then you realize he’s talking about the last few centimeters you can't seem to fit into your mouth. you try once again. you place both hands flat on his thighs and push on your head, gagging as you feel the tip breaching the back of your throat. that feeling alone makes you press your thighs together as you feel your slick stick to your folds.

you’re obviously struggling and there’s something so endearing about it to seonghwa. you can’t seem to fit him whole but you’re willing to die trying. and seonghwa isn’t against helping you a little.

“yes, baby, i know you can do it” he encourages you. he wraps his hand delicately around your nape, securing you in place before he rolls his hips off his chair and upwards.

“ffffuck” he sighs as you cough but soon you feel his cock entering your throat until your lips kiss his pubic bone. “that's it baby…” he pants. “aah fuc-.. look at me.”

you peel your watery eyes open and look up at him as a tear rolls down your burning cheek. seonghwa could have cum right there just looking down at you with your pretty face stuffed full of his fat cock. you are so pretty and adorable he can’t take it anymore.

he starts to fuck himself using your pretty mouth to his heart's content until you feel him twitch in your throat and he delivers his load directly into your stomach with a myriad of beautiful airy moans and strangled grunts. he quickly pulls out and wraps his pretty hand around his wet and glistening cock, getting more cum to decorate your reddened and tear soaked face, adding one more layer of mess to your already ruined face. warm cum crashes on your nose, cheeks and lips as you heavily pant, trying to catch your breath. you hurriedly lick the cum of your lips and drag the remaining onto your mouth using your spit covered finger.

seonghwa looks at you in awe devouring his essence like you’ve been starved of it for months. he can’t get enough of it… of you.

“open.” he says, gently wrapping his hand around your chin. “stick your tongue out let me see”. you open your mouth to show seonghwa you finished eating all of his delicious cum and he smiles at you.

“thanks for the hand, darling” he says, short of breath, sweaty bangs clamping to his beautiful face. “all clean now”.

𝐏𝐑𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊 𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐘𝐄𝐎𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐆 (3.55pm)

tags: directly inspired by yeosang’s hidden talent in the infamous jessi interview (thank u queen), oral (f), face riding, face sitting, hair pulling, edging, begging, teasing, switch sub leaning yeosang, short overstim (f) wc: 1.1k

when you get out of seonghwa’s room you leave the apron behind to stay in your mandated “uniform” and head to the bathroom to splash your face with clean water. suddenly you hear rummaging coming from yeosang’s room and shortly after his face peeks out from the door.

“can you come a second, please? i need you” he says with a beaming smile, he wears a fitted black tank top and matching plain sweat pants. you hurry yourself in and close the door behind you. in the room you find a yoga mat on the floor and beside it a collection of heavy dumbbells and kettlebells.

“i was about to work out” yeosang says pushing his chestnut brown hair out of his face, letting you see the cherry wine birthmark near his eye. he holds a shaker in the other hand “i was going to make me a pre workout shake but then i heard you were busy with seonghwa.” he sets the shaker on his desk. “so i figured i might as well wait until you were done.” he sits himself on the yoga mat. “there's no doubt that you make the best pre workout shakes” he smiles again, innocently and then points at his face.

if you were new to this you would have never suspected the perverted nature of this light exchange. but you are used to this kind of request from him and you don't need more explanations. you step towards him while he lays flat on the mat. you first straddle his lap and you quietly moan when his clothed half hard cock comes in contact with your bare cunt. but you don’t dwell on it because it’s not what you were asked for. you crawl up to yeosang’s face and hover over him.

yeosang feels boiling blood being pumped right into his cock as he looks at your bare pussy. he hasn’t touched you yet, you haven’t touched him either but you’re already red, swollen and wet from playing with seonghwa earlier. his cock jumps in its restrain. he cannot wait to have you on his mouth.

“come on, baby. don't make me beg for it” he says, bringing his hands on your thighs, lightly stroking them.

“why not?” you reply, lowering your hips slightly. “ i like when you beg” you stopped just when your pussy was still out of reach. that greatly affected him. “and i know you like to beg for me”.

“ffffuck- you’re s’bad to me” he panted, extending his neck trying to have you in his mouth.

pre workout with yeosang did not just include having his daily dose of protein by eating you out. it also meant riling him up so he would kill his work out. the goal was to make him as frustrated and edged as possible so he could take it all out on his weights and reps.

“okay” he gives up easily. “please let me taste your pretty dripping pussy. i want it so bad” he says his palms pressing down on your thighs so you would sit on his face sooner than later.

“alright then since you asked so politely” you lower your hips until you are fully pressing your cunt onto his face, earning a muffled ‘thank you’.

“fuck- you’re already so wet” he breathes, his tongue swirling around your soaked folds. “what did hyung do to you?” he asks before burying his face into you. his tongue lapping at your entrance while his nose bumped into your hard clit. you moan and sigh before you can muster an answer. but yeosang doesn't mind. he’s patient. well… except when it’s to have your pretty pussy in his mouth.

“he didn’t do anything to me that's the problem- ngghh” your hand reaches for his hair to keep him still and you start to rock your hips back and forth slowly. “i only got to suck his dick”. you hear him chuckle.

“and you got this wet just sucking his dick? you really are hungry for cock, aren’t you?” he chuckles again, his hands applying more pressure to your thighs. “i bet you were wishing you got some kind of relief” he angles his tongue and shoves it inside you.

“yessss” you hissed, both replying to his questions and urging him to continue what he was doing. with each back and fourth of your hips you fuck yourself on his tongue, feeling the wet muscle go in and out, you know you’re getting closer to release. so you lean back slightly and grab his cock through his black sweatpants to start rubbing it through the thin material. you feel him twitch in your hand but more than that you feel his rhythm falter.

“ohh fuccckkk- nhghh. babe, please” he begs again. he was so worked up he could fully be cumming just by having you rub him through his pants. your other hand pulls on his hair to get his head back in the game.

“don’t forget you can’t cum if you really wanna kill your workout, sangie” you sing, amused by his misery.

“you make it reall- ah fuck… fucking difficult” he says, struggling to get back on his pace.

“i won’t stop though. i guess you should make me cum before you bust, unless you don’t actually want to work out today…” you say tantalizing him.

that is the final push he needs. he completely occultates the warm feeling in his groin and the way your expert hands know exactly how to please him to solely focus on your own pleasure. his tongue goes up to your clit where he gives fast and hard flicks to the hard bud, making your cunt gush out more thick slick that is only fueling his fire further.

“fuck, sangie i’m-... almost there” you say, short of breath, your thigh burning and shaking slightly as you feel the weight of your orgasm coming on.

yeosang keeps his eyes on the price, not being distracted by the tight feeling in his pants and the way his cock was twitching, being fully engorged with boiling blood, weeping at the slit, only begging for release. instead he goes back down to give you more back and forth penetrating your dripping cunt with ease and going up to your clit again. only a few more licks are required to have you come undone at the tip of his tongue.

“fuckkk sangie. i’m cum-” a strangled moan cuts you as you rut your hips onto yeosang’s face and feel the force of your orgasm wiping your train of thought entirely, burning heat spreading from your core in all your limbs, making you shake and shiver as you allow yourself the loudest moans and groans of yeosang’s name.

yeosang keeps on lapping at your nectar until you grow overstimulated and push yourself off him, collapsing next to him on the yoga mat both panting for a second in silence. you look down at his crotch seeing a visible wet spot on his pants and smile to yourself before hoisting yourself up on your feet, your thigh still shaking.

“i think you’ll do particularly well on your work out today, sangie~”

𝐖𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐒𝐀𝐍 (5.20pm)

tags: muscular and sweaty san (deserves his own warning), dirty talk, unprotected sex (we do not vibe with that), cowgirl and reverse cowgirl (san is an ass man 100% certified), creampie wc: 1.2k

you're on the couch massaging your sore thighs when you hear yeosang’s workout playlist blasting from his room which makes you chuckle. but you are suddenly startled by a voice behind you.

“seems like you had a good warmup” you turn your head to meet san. he smiles at you making his cat like eyes turn into small crescents.

“don't let your muscles cool down. come with me” he says before promptly disappearing behind his bedroom door.

you groan in a quiet protest making sure san doesn't hear you before perching yourself up on your feet, still feeling the burn in your thighs from riding yeosang’s face. san usually takes the most out of you. he has incredible stamina and demands nothing less than for you to keep up with him.

you push the door and instantly san passes his oversized lounging t-shirt over his head to reveal his perfectly sculpted body. firm and muscular pecs just above rock hard abs. one look at his body and you are already forgetting about the pain in your thighs to solely be conscious of the ache of your insatiable little cunt.

“it’s leg day today” san declares, turning his broad back to you. you are mesmerized by his muscles moving in unison as he sets the musculation bench before discarding his sweatpants along with his underwear. you can't help but catch your bottom lip between your teeth as your eyes trail down to his cock. his was quite girthy and from the way his tip was red and leaking you know he started the fun without you. probably even listening to you while yeosang rocked your world.

he sits himself on the bench and tap his thighs.

“given the way yeosang was making you scream i'm guessing you don’t need anymore prepping. right, princess?” he says his eyes trailing off between your thighs that you were subconsciously pressing together.

you shake your head and step towards the object of your every thought but san lifted his large hand, stopping you right in your tracks.

“princess” he clicks his tongue and shakes his head unfavorably. “you know how i love when you use your words. so please use them” he lets his hands back at his side and smiles maliciously when you squirm uncomfortably.

“n-no i-i don't need more prep, sir” you start hesitantly, his scrutinizing eyes making you even hotter between the legs. “my pussy is nice and wet, ready to take your cock, sir”. the name has san's cock jumping between his massive thighs.

“good girl” san praises as you step closer he wraps both his strong hands around your hips and help you straddle him. “do your thing, princess” he says before flashing you a wink, his raven black hair brushing over his forehead. you grab his cock and pump him a few times earning a slow and sultry groan from san before you align him with your entrance and slowly sink your hips. you wrap your hand around san’s nape while he grunts lowly, gritting his teeth as his eyes snap to the point your two bodies meet. with your other hand you stabilize yourself laying it flat on san's abs.

“bounce on my cock, princess”

you start to lift yourself up and let yourself down at a comfortable rhythm. each time san’s large cock spreads you wide open you let out a small whimper and the feeling makes your crave more of this delicious warmth spreading inside you, so much so that your movement become more shallow and faster but san’s big hands wraps around your waist once again.

“come on baby, do it better, do the movement until the end. don’t do a sloppy job, that won’t be any good for your glutes. like this” he guides your hips on his cock, making you roll your hips back and forth, up and down until he could feel the familiar way your cunt was gripping his cock.

“your pussy is pulsating.” he says between pants, sweat dripping from his temples and running down his neck and his abs, making his beautiful bronze skin glisten. “are you gonna cum, princess?” he asks, looking at your focussed pout with a smirk. you nod once again, eyes closed shut desperately chasing your orgasm. but he grabs your face harshly between his index and thumb making you lose focus. “what did a tell you about using your words, huh? are you already so cockdumb that you lost the ability to speak?”

“sorry, sannie” you said, out of breath, your eyes snapping open as you bounced harder than ever, your tits bouncing up and down with every motion. “yes i wanna cum. please can i cum?”

“go ahead, princess” he allows, he feels magnanimous today.

you don’t need anymore to be swept off your feet by the powerful orgasm crushing over you, making you throw your head back and cry out a strangled moan as your cunt uncontrollably twitches around san’s length. but before you can even come back down san flips you around you’re now facing the full length mirror as san is fondling your ass.

“i’ve always liked this nice piece of ass you bring everywhere to taunt me with.” san says before painting a harsh spank of your asscheek and fucking up into your cunt roughly.

“my turn now, princess," he says, raising his hips up with force, making you arch your back. and taking advantage of it by holding onto your ass even tighter. looking at his cock disappearing between your cheeks just to be spitted out covered with your juices, making you cream and you slowly lose your mind to his cock.

you look at the mirror. you looked like a whole mess, sweaty, your tits jumping up and down and your pussy being thoroughly destroyed by san’s big cock, used like a mere cocksleeve. your eyes are attracted by the raging thing entering and exiting your swollen, red and exhausted little cunt.

“oh m- goddd” you yelp as you cream a second time around san’s cock. the way your cunt is strangling his cock as if it never wanted to let go, as if the thought of being empty once again was unbearable is enough for san to let go of his load.

“inside” you yell.

“fuckkkk” he grunts. “fucking take my load” he pants while his thrusts go uneven as he repaints your inside your favourite shade of white making you see stars.

“thankyouthankyouthankyou” you chant as san progressively slows down and eventually pops his softening cock out of you. you look in the mirror again, some of his load running down your folds and staining the leather of the musculation bench. but before you waste any more of it you close your legs rapidly.

“good work today, princess” he said before laying a soft kiss on your lips.

“dinner’s ready~” you hear wooyoung call out and you both whip your head in the direction of the door.

“don’t forget to eat well today at dinner, don't forget the first rule” san says gently caressing your cheek. “something tells me you’ll need all the energy you can get…”

𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐓 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐖𝐎𝐎𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐀 𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐃 𝐌𝐄𝐀𝐋 (9.32pm)

tags: praising, pet names, unprotected sex (the crowd boos), sloppy seconds, creampie, oral (f), cum eating, lil bit of spit kink, snowballing, steamy make out sesh, both wooyoung and reader are cumwhores, you both are so fucking nasty and i love it (not clickbait) wc: 1.2k

everyone is already leaving the dinner table with full and satisfied bellies when you ask wooyoung if he needs any help cleaning up.

“yes, that’d be lovely, thank you.” he smiles at you. you return the warm smile.

usually it meant one thing if wooyoung held you back after a nice home cooked meal. because he usually liked to clean off the kitchen by himself. so there was only one reason for him to keep you here: he was hungry for dessert. and you were the only one that could satisfy his craving.

as you were still full of san’s load you derogated from the “uniform” and you were allowed to wear a single pair of lacy panties. you continue to sit in them prettily as you wait for wooyoung to get done with tidying. when he said he needed your help he never actually meant cleaning so you learned with time to just wait.

“there. all done” he says, throwing the dish cloth over his shoulder and turning a bright smile to you. he had stunning long shiny dark hair tickling his ear, a long straight nose and a sharp jawline. but what was even more striking was his duality. the way the warm smile quickly swapped for a smirk.

“lay there, baby” he says pointing his chin to the table and you immediately get on your feet to lay on your back against the cold wooden dining table. “good girl” he says, palming himself through his black slacks. “spread your legs for me, pretty.”

you bring your legs up and set both your feet on the edge of the table, keeping your knees nice and wide for wooyoung to feast his eyes on you.

“shit” he says through gritted teeth as his hands apply more pressure to his growing bulge before slipping down and lightly squeezing his balls. they already feel so full and tight, ready to burst at any second. but how could he not feel like this when you’re sprawled out for him. your pretty fucking tits spilling to each side of your chest, your cute face all red, your beautiful white lace panties clinging to your folds. they are now completely see through. fully soaked in cum and your thick slick. letting the color of your pretty little pussy shine through. he can't even imagine how uncomfortable you must have felt sitting at the table all evening while your cunt was dripping cum in your panties.

“how many loads did you get today?” he asks, fumbling with his belt and taking his raging cock out. you can’t help but let a whimper out as you see his cock leaking a pearl of precum.

“one.”

“just one?” wooyoung says, surprised and a little disappointed, he was hoping for more but he was surprised just one of his member was able to cum that much. “who?”

“san”

his smirk grows wider. he wasn’t as surprised anymore. he hooks a finger to your panties and drags them to the side, letting out a sigh as he sees your slutty little cunt respond with a twitch.

“i think you deserve at least one more.” he rubs his tip against your wet folds, gathering san’s cum and your juices. “can't make a good dessert with only one load, huh?”

you nod and bite your lip, anticipating the feeling of wooyoung’s cock finally breaching you. and finally he pushes in. you can't help but let a sultry and long moan fall out of your lips as you fight the urge to close your eyes just to see wooyoung melt away at the feeling of your cunt around him.

“fuckkkk” he sighs, going slightly higher in pitch. “i don't think i'll last long. i’ll have to thank san for keeping the oven hot for me” he says, pulling out and pushing back in.

“i kept his cum nice and warm inside of me just for you” you say before wooyoung takes a punishing pace.

“oh yeah? thank you, darling” he says rutting his hips onto you and you feel a tight feeling forming in your lower abdomen. though, you know you aren't supposed to cum yet, it feels harder and harder to resist especially when you feel his cock start twitching inside you. but this part is only for wooyoung's pleasure. and you know that.

“fuck, baby. you’re so tight and warm and fucking wet for me” he says fucking himself inside you, taking his cock all the way out to smash it back in until he cums.

“fuck i’m fucking cum-”

“yes!! please give me more cum pleasepleaseplease” you said on the verge of cumming yourself.

he stills his hips and unloads deep inside you with small high pitched whimpers giving a couple of weak thrusts again, making sure to cum as deep as he can, ropes after ropes of white cum joining san’s.

“god… nnghhh” he says as he pulls out still fully hard.

he pumps his fist around his sensitive cock, making himself shiver from light overstimulation.

“fuck… spread it open for me baby, lemme see” he pants. you brought your knees on your chest and spread your hole to let him see the two loads ooze out of your abused little pussy all puffy and swollen.

“fuck it looks so fucking delicious. thank you for the meal sweetie” he says before stuffing his whole face in your leaking cunt. swiping his flat tongue across your folds. the tip of his tongue parting your lips and gathering the oozing cum and then flicking it on your clit making you whimper.

“fuck it’s s’good. san’s cum always tastes so good”

“please can i try some” you say already sticking your tongue out.

“of course, darling” he says before bending over you and spitting the mixed up loads back into your open mouth. the taste immediately goes to your head, making you dizzy. it is so strong, salty and bitter. absolutely sinful. you moan as you swallow and that compels wooyoung to kiss you. the taste mixes between your tongues. wooyoung’s wet mouth wraps around your tongue to suck on it delighting on the rich flavor, deepening the kiss until you were both out of breath, strings of spit connecting your swollen lips.

“fuck you’re so hot” he breathes before going back for seconds. this time he shoved his tongue inside your quivering hole, making more of the cocktail of juice gush out to feast on it. he alternated between your erect clit and your hole until you were a sweaty and shaking mess. your cunt was throbbing with each flick of his tongue, each time he slipped a finger inside just to scrape more cum out while you kept your pussy nice and open for him with your hands.

he was so fucking nasty, probably the nastiest out of the members but fortunately for him you always matched him.

“wooyoungie, keep going.” your toes are flexing as you feel your orgasm creeping up.

“cum in my mouth, baby. i wanna taste your cum too” he says, focusing his attention back on your clit, flicking it and wrapping his pretty lips around the nub to suck it gently instantly making you cross the line.

you throw your head back and let go of the tight knot. big sprouts of translucent liquid gush out of your cunt and right into wooyoung’s mouth who hurriedly wraps his lips around the source of the delicious fountain, loudly gulping down the precious nectar.

he gives you time to come down from your high before popping off you with a lewd sound and a prolonged satisfied sigh.

“aaaaaah” he says as you would after drinking a big swipe of cold water on a hot summer day.

“you always make the best desserts”

𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐈'𝐒 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐑'𝐒 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐊 (0.12am)

tags: fingering with rings (ugggh i’m weak for him), voice kink (i said i’m weak ok? don’t judge), praises, soft degradation (f), teasing, begging, edging (f) (just a lil bit), multiple orgasms (a lot), overstim (f), possessive!mingi, quiet sex (very late in packed dorm), unprotected sex (bad), dumbification, reader is cock drunk and that's mingi’s fave thing. wc: 1.4k

After wooyoung’s encounter you badly need a shower so you hop in and let the soapy warm water relax your muscles and take some of the strain off your body.

when you step outside you see you got a text from mingi.

find me after your shower.

you dried yourself and stayed in uniform before crossing the hall and knocking on mingi’s bedroom door.

“yup, come in” you hear the deep voice behind the door. already the low rumbling sends excitement to your core. as soon as you step in he gestures to have you sit on his bed while he sits on his desk chair. the room is dark, the lights are off except for his desk lamp, his laptop is open, the mixing board is switched on and you see a couple of paper notes spread out onto the desk.

“i need your help” he says plainly. “i’m having a little problem, i can't seem to write anything good today. i need more inspiration. and you always help me with that.” he gets up and sits next to you on the bed, laying his big and warm hand on your thigh. “i need new sounds to inspire me and you make the most beautiful ones” his hand travels up your thigh to lightly brush against your core. making you stifle a little whimper. and mingi nods and hums in satisfaction. “yeah like those ones. can you make more for me, baby?” he says with a smirk pulling on his lips as he looks at you over his big glasses and spreads his legs for you to come sit between them. you nod, taking your spot between mingi’s strong thighs, leaning your back against his chest.

“fuck, you’re so well behaved darling. so well trained for me.” he sighs in your ear as he pushes your thighs open gently. his deep voice raises goosebumps on your skin and tingles in your core. one of his hands goes to tease the sensitive skin of your inner thigh while the other firmly wraps around your hip, the metal of the various rings digging into your skin, making you moan again. mingi then gently brings his hand to part your pussy lips to notice you’re already wet.

“you’re so wet already and i haven't even touched you yet” you can’t help but twitch at the way his voice sounds so much darker than it did moments ago. “you’ve always liked it when i talked to you like this. whispering in your ear, huh?” you nodded, letting your head roll on his broad shoulder. “you’re getting wet off my voice alone? you’re such a filthy little girl” he whispers, knowing damn well you’re only growing more impatient to feel his fingers inside you.

“please” you whimper.

“please what, darling? he says, swiping a finger between your folds and gathering your wetness.”

“please inside.” you say in a strangled breath as mingi is toying with you, purposely avoiding your pleasure spots. “please put your fingers inside me”

“like this” he says feigning ignorance as he thrusts two fingers inside, angling them just right on the first try, making your walls quiver around his rings.

“yessssss” you whine arching your back off his chest. you’re already so close because of the teasing and his sultry voice right in your ear.

“shhhhhh baby. be quiet” he says not moving his fingers but bringing his thumb to draw small circles on your erect and lonely clit and you bite your lips to not make another loud moan. “it’s late and we have practice in the morning. people are sleeping.” he applies a little more pressure on your clit making you throw your head back. “plus, i don't want anyone knowing what we’re doing. right now you’re with me, you're for me. me only. nobody has to know what a good little slut you’re being for me right now.” he kisses your exposed neck when you hear a scream coming from the room next door.

“FUCKING HEAL ME YOU FUCKING DUMBASS” the loud voice of jongho booms across the night.

“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU GUYS FUCKING DOING IM 1 V 3 ON MID LANE” yunho echoes and mingi chuckles against your skin.

“let's not be like them, okay darling?” he licks the shell of your ear “your sweet little moans are only for me tonight”

you nod and he starts to pump his fingers in and out of your cunt aiming for the finish line right away. he knows exactly what he’s doing, fucking his hand into your g spot and abusing your clit with his thumb until you’re cumming all over his hand in a small little gasp that rings like heaven into mingi’s ear.

“that’s it baby, nice and slow” he says as he slows down, sparing you time to come off your high gently. but as soon as he feels your walls relaxing around his two fingers he shoves another one inside, making you gasp and fist the sheets.

“give me another one of those baby” he says immediately repeating the same pattern except this time you’re being even more stretched out by his large hand going in and out, the rings warmed up by his skin adding another complex layer of pleasure until you are clenching around his hand, your little pussy begging for release.

“m-mingi i'm gonna cum again” you announce.

“do it, darling” he whispers in your ear before you let go once again. this time it’s even more intense. you are barely able to control your volume but you manage to keep it down by muffling it with your hand. mingi slows down and gently rubs tight soft circles on your hard clit as he coos in your ear.

you are half conscious as you feel him shift behind you and lay you down on his bed before getting rid of his sweatpants and kneeling between your thighs. you feel a wet hand tease your erect nipples then his tip against your thigh before he slides inside your still slightly throbbing heat.

“oh ffffuck you’re s-so tight” he says, shoving his cum coated fingers in your mouth and you instinctively suck on them, your own taste spreading on your tongue.

“what a good little slut you are for me, darling” he starts to pump himself in and out leisurely. “i want you to cum on my cock now. you'll do that for me, right baby?”

“yethhh” you say not taking his fingers out your lips, the three digits completely filling your mouth. he can’t help but think about how fucking pretty you look like this, so fucked out before he even properly fucked you.

he took back his hand to secure you on the bed, pinning you down by the hips and started to hammer his cock into you. you wanted to scream at the top of your lungs, each time his cockhead would smash back in and kiss your cervix it felt so good that your body felt like it was floating.

“f-fuck you’re squeezing me so tight.’ mingi struggled to say “are you close again? fuck, you’re definitely addictted to my cock, arent you?”

“yesyesyes i fucking love your cock” you said your body shaken by mingi’s powerful thrust.

“who’s cock, darling? say my name” he commands.

“yours! mingi! song mingi’s cock!” you blurt out, mind going blank. “fuck im fucking cumm… ngghhhh”

“good fucking girl” he groans.

you let go once again, the overwhelming weight of your third orgasm comes crushing your body as you shake uncontrollably under mingi’s weight. panting, gushing and moaning just for him, as he asked you. but this time mingi didn’t stop he continued to plow you into the mattress, chasing his own high.

“please mingi” you whimpered, your body going into overdrive from overstimulation. “i-i just c-came” you say, your pussy still fluttering around him.

“cum for me again baby, please” he growls, his voice even lower, even sultrier, even nastier. “i'm almost there too. cum with me”

he keeps on abusing your shapeless hole until you find the familiar warmth building up again despite the overwhelming sensation. tears start to well up in the corners of your eyes.

“pleaseplease. cum mingi i can’t take it anymore i need your cum” you plead, shaken by sobs.

“fuck you sound so good begging for my cum, darling. then fucking take it” he says as he brings you with him to another earth shattering orgasm. you writhe underneath him from the power of the orgasm mingi is forcing onto your weak body as he delivers burning hot cum deep into you, his cock twitching with each thick white rope that spurts from his slit. before he collapses next to you.

you both catch your breath for a second before you hear more angry gamer noises come from next door.

“i think they’re gonna need you too” he says before planting a soft kiss on your forehead.

𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 2𝐇𝐎'𝐒 𝐅𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐀 𝐁𝐀𝐃 𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄 (1.04am)

tags: very rough, kinda cnc vibes (consent is given in the intro part of the fic), big cawk!yunho, thick cawk!jongho, manhandling, hairpulling, throat fucking, spit roasting/eiffel tower, dacryphilia, answering a phone call during gut reorganisation session (uwu), objectification, yunho and jongho are mean, like really mean but we love to see it <3 wc: 1.5k

you stretch in the hall on your way to the bathroom. you think to yourself you might as well take a second shower but you hear rambling in the hall.

“where is she?” yunho’s voice starts. “i thought i heard her getting out of mingi’s room”

then the door is violently pushed open by jongho.

“she’s here” he says. “come here we need you.”

he looks terrifying. he’s absolutely pissed. for a second, you even truly believe you did something to anger him but then you recall how you heard them lose game after game when you were busy with mingi.

jongho grabs you by the hips and swings you effortlesly on his shoulder to take you across the hall, you can't help but to whimper and squirm meekly. you’ve always liked when the boys are worked up and get rough with you. some of them treat you like a fragile little bird most times but you could always count on this duo to put you back in your place and manhandle you.

he pushes in the door of yunho's room and throws you on his bed. you take a look around yunho's computer is still running. and yunho stands next to it with crossed arms. he steps towards the bed and towers over you, standing next to Jongho, casting his huge shadow onto you.

yunho is usually very kind to you. he usually likes to fuck you missionnary call you sweet pet names and look you in the eyes while he’s deep inside your guts. but when he’s angry, he is someone else entirely.

he doesn't say a word when he reaches for the fly of his jeans and jongho grabs you by the hair to shove your face right under his bandmate’s crotch. you faintly whimper at the dull pain on your scalp but forget it instantly when yunho pulls his monstrous cock out of his jeans. he was easily the biggest out of them all. his cock is already so hard and red that it has your mouth watering at the sight.

“open your mouth, whore” jongho says, tightening his grip around your hair, making you moan in the process. you don’t wait a sec and open your mouth, sticking your tongue out. yunho then lays his cock on your flat tongue and pushes himself in with a low groan that has you shuddering beneath him.

“fuckkk that's what i needed” he sighes as he reaches the back of your throat. your mouth is already so full but a few centimeters are still hanging out so yunho wraps his large hand around your nape and thrusts himself in in one go. tears start to prickle your eyes and you cough, gasping for air, pushing on yunho’s hips but he doesn't budge.

“fuck- you feel s’good shit” yunho says when he feels your throat clenching around him, desperately trying to push him out to regain access to oxygen. and the more you fight back the more jongho just laughs at your misery.

“look at me” yunho commands and your watery eyes snap back to him. his usually warm puppy eyes are dark, filled with simmering rage that you know is your job to cool down. and it’s exactly what you intend to do. letting the two men play with you until they both turn back into their happy and kind personality.

yunho pulls out and you are finally able to breathe again, you gasp for air and cough. but before you can recover jongho lifts you up again and puts you down on all fours on the soft mattress.

“i want her mouth” jongho says first.

yunho groans again. you know how much he likes to play with your mouth and watch you struggle to take him whole.

“fine” he says, getting on the bed and going behind you. he passes his thumb over your pussy, making you jolt forward and he chuckles when he feels how wet you are.

“i wanted to take a quick shower befo-”

“mingi did that to you didn’t he?” he interrupts.

“yes”

he rubs his spit coated tip between your folds, the hot feeling has you melting and you bite your lips trying not to wiggle your ass to urge him to fill you up.

“i'll have to thank him. warming up my favourite little cock sleeve for me” he starts to push himself in, making you whimper. “he really is a good friend”

you gasp when he fits the last couple of centimeters inside your tight and crowded heat, making mingi’s cum ooze out in the process.

you are so full of his cock, so deliriously stretched out that big tears start to run down your heated cheeks and that makes jongho chuckle. he lifts your chin up, pushing the hair out of your face.

“you’re so pretty when you cry baby” he coos. “you love dick so much that you just start crying from sheer happiness everytime you’re fucked full of cock” he caresses your cheek with one hand while the other pulls on his sweat pants to let his girthy cock spring free.

“you’re a cock hungry little whore aren't you?” jongho whispers while he rubs his hot cockhead on your cheek, then your lips.

“oh fuck” you say as yunho starts to pick up the pace, instantly clouding your judgement and making you see stars.

“say it” jongho commands, voice growing stern as he holds your chin up, his fingernails digging into your skin.

“yes!! i'm a cock hungry whore!!” you cave in. “i love cocks. it’s all i think about every day, every second!! pleasepleaseplease let me have yours. i want your cock so bad, jongho” you cry, more pretty tears rolling on your face, which couldn't make jongho happier.

he stuffs his thick cock into your mouth, making your lips stretch out around it. you moan on it and instinctively start to bop your head. you have your eyes on the price. you would do anything for another hot load of delicious cum.

“god- fuck-” jongho says in a strangled moan as he watches you hollow your cheeks, each of your movement facilitated by yunho fucking you at the back and pushing you further down on jongho’s cock.

the three of you find the perfect rhythm as you moan on both their cocks your mind progressively fogging up and you don't even realize your phone is ringing before jongho holds it to your ear, not taking his cock out your mouth.

“it’s hyung” he says and you barely register the voice of hongjoong on the other end of the line when you feel the cool glass of the screen on your hot ear.

“oh! i see you’re busy right now”

“mhppff” you only manage to respond a muffled moan as jongho fucks your face.

“good girl” hongjoong praises and you can almost hear the smirk through the phone. “come by the studio when you’re done. i need you for something” hongjoong asks. jongho passes the phone to yunho.

“don't worry hyung, we’re almost done with her” he then hangs up and throws the phone on the bed. before grabbing both your hips and pulling your ass back on his cock with force. you struggle not to scream from sheer pleasure as yunho twitches inside you.

“now i'm gonna get you what you’ve been waiting for” he leans over you and you feel his chest against your damp back as you arch it trying to get him even deeper inside you.

“f-fucking whore look at you begging for more cum” jongho struggles to say between pants, gathering your hair onto a strong grip. “you’re insatiable”.

“good little fucking cumslut” yunho groans as his orgasm rips through him, his cock twitches inside you and your walls clench around him milking him for all his worth, the warm and full sensation of his cum filling you up makes the tight knot inside your guts snap and you find yourself shaking uncontrollably as your orgasm radiates in all your limbs, your cunt throbbing around yunho’s cock, desperate to get every single drop of cum out of him and inside you.

“ffffffuck” jongho sighs. “you’re so fucking hot when you cum” he says as he takes his cock out of your mouth and angles your face upward by the hair. he only has to pump himself a couple of times making slick lewd noises before he lets out a low grunt and cums all over your face.

“fuckkk” he sighs. “so fucking pretty with my cum on your fucked out face” he doesn’t stop stroking his thick cock until you are covered with white and sticky cum. you open your mouth instinctively in the hopes of catching some squirts onto your eager tongue.

you all crash on the bed, entangled in each other, sweaty, sticky and wet. none of you talk and it’s peaceful again. yunho wraps his arms around your waist and cuddles into you, your puppy is back and jongho big spoons you. everything has fallen back into place and you helped the boys deal with their frustration and anger. then you hear someone clearing their throat. you lift your head and see the phone screen shining.

“hm…you didn’t hang up… so i didn’t either.”

𝐅𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐅𝐅 𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐏 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐃𝐈𝐎 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐉𝐎𝐎𝐍𝐆 (2.43am).

tags: somno (aka cnc, consent given in intro part), wet dreams, pet names, praises, oral (f), forced orgasm while asleep (consensual!!!), biting, multiple orgasms (f & m), light overstim (m), unprotected sex (do we see a pattern? yes we do), creampie wc: 1.3k

you were supposed to help hongjoong in the studio. you thought you could do it when you were on the way over here. the fresh air of the night kept you nice and awake after the quick shower you took when jongho and yunho were done playing with you.

but now that you’re here, settled on the comfortable couch in the small heated studio you can't help but to feel your eyelids grow heavy. moreover, hongjoong might have asked you to come but he’s been busy working on songs not paying any mind to you. in the peaceful quiet you soon you slip into slumber.

hongjoong find it suspiciously quiet and turns around only to find you asleep on the couch, comfortably wrapped in a long padded coat. he walks up to you and smiles down on you. you look so peaceful laying there, your body exhausted by tending to the other members all day. he recalls the way yunho and jongho treated you earlier today and feels arousal start to tingle in his lower half.

he wants to use you too… but it’s late and you’re so tired… you deserve to rest a little bit. but he doesn't necessarily need to wake you up, does he?

he pinches the zipper of your padded coat and pulls on it to discover with a smirk that you are in fact in “uniform” underneath it. he palms himself as he imagines you walking around at night outside wearing only your sneakers and this coat.

his hand brushes over your collarbone and your nipples which harden at the lightest of touch, making him chuckle.

“such a well trained little kitten” he purrs quietly.

he touches your waist then your hips then your thighs, still no reaction from you. you must really be drained, he thinks before he pushes your thighs open where he discovers with wonder your pretty little pussy slightly shiny in the dim lighting of the studio.

“is kitten having a naughty dream?” he wonders as he passes a long slender finger on your slit and you frown and exhale a quiet little sound. “looks like it” he concludes. “looks like you need a little help to get there”

he then leans over and brings his face between your thighs and licks a large swipe from your entrance to your clit. you emit a quiet moan but still you don’t wake. hongjoong starts to focus on your clit giving soft and lazy flicks against it until he sees your arousal pooling out of your little hole.

“good job, kitten” he praises softly as he dips down his tongue to gather as much of your essence as possible. he hums in satisfaction, relishing in your taste. he keeps on licking and sucking gently at your clit until he feels the familiar twitch on his tongue. he knows you are close from how you’re breathing quickened. he looks up at you to see you frown but you are still sound asleep.

he wonders if he can make you cum while you still enjoy a well deserved rest so he pushes the teasing a little further. the licks and flicks have more purpose and he focuses more of his attention on your clit making breathy little sounds escape your parted lips until you grow quiet once more, the muscles of your thighs tense up and hongjoong understands you’re cumming. you stay exceptionally quiet as your naughty little pussy gushes thick translucent slick and throbs on hongjoong’s tongue.

he’s played with you quite a lot before but it’s the first time he’s made you cum in your sleep. it was the hottest thing ever and he suddenly yearns to have you flutter like this but this time around his cock. he steps out of his comfortable sweatpants and takes it out. even he was surprised to see how worked up he got from eating your pretty and unsuspecting little cunt. his cockhead was red and leaking thick precum. he just couldn't wait anymore.

he positions himself between your legs and aligns his tip with your entrance. he shivers when he invites himself in. you were feeling absolutely divine. he bites his lips to prevent himself from making too much noise. he wants to keep you like this: nice and peaceful, he doesnt want to disturb the poor little thing sleeping.

he starts off slow, pumping his cock in and out lazily but as time goes on you grow tighter around him and it compels him to pick up the pace. he tries not to go too hard, not to shake you too much but you feel so heavenly that soon he aches to have you cumming around him. he desperately wants to feel you clench down on his cock, while you lie there asleep, your trained little slut cunt only acting out of pure whore instinct. that thought alone makes him dizzy. so he lays his thumb against your hard clit and starts rubbing it in a circle. you were closer than he thought because a couple of movements later you are cumming around him. you clench down so hard that hongjoong can't help the high pitched noise that escapes him as he lets go. he loses himself in your sopping wet cunt, his thrusts grow erratic and harsher while he delivers what feels like gallons of hot cum inside you.

the tightness, the fullness, the pleasure you feel… gradually it makes the sleepiness go away. you feel the immense pleasure of your orgasm crushing your body before you’re even conscious of it. but your eyes snap open and you see hongjoong plowing into you turning your slutty little pussy inside out while you milk his cock for all its worth.

“aaaah…. nghh… joongie” you moan your voice still a little groggy, your toes curling as your orgasm slips from a dream to a reality. until hongjoong’s hips slow down and you can finally fully wake up while he fucks you lazily, feeling shivers of overstimulation on his spine.

“good morning, kitten” he says, the new dawn seeping through the closed blinds.

“again please joongie” you beg, trying to match his rhythm, your hips shaking underneath him.

“fuck” hongjoong groans as his hands wrap around your waist. “you’re insatiable you know that? you came twice before you can even wake up and you’re already begging for a third one? aren’t you the perfect little whore?”

you hum in agreement and he picks up the pace again. this time it’s brutal, you are shaken underneath him and he buries his face in the crook of your neck to fight off the overstimulation on his sensitive cock.

“fuckkk kittken, you’re gripping so tight”

“y-yes joongie. i’m so fuckn- close… please don’t stoppp” you beg, feeling your third orgasm coming through.

“fuck i’m cumm…” hongjoong moans in your neck. “i’m fucking cuming again. you’re fucking milking my cock, kitten” he says through gritted teeth right before biting your neck as your both cum wrapped up in each other. his load is weaker then the previous one but the orgasm surely isn’t by the way his cock twitches inside you, fucking another load inside you and making the previous one ooze out and coat your thighs.

you also shake under him, his teeth still bored onto your soft skin. the pain and pleasure make you cum hard. your sloppy cunt clenching and throbbing around him, your orgasm washing over you like a heat wave of pleasure.

hongjoong pulls out to see the results of his hard work dribble down your slit and coat your folds in pretty white while your sex lightly pulses. he turns his head to the screensaver on his laptop to look at the time.

“we should head back and sleep…” he wrapped his arm under your head and lifted you up as you were already slipping back into blissful sleep, your sex drive finally satisfied after fucking every single one of the member in a day. “we have practice tomorrow. yunho will kill us if we fuck up the dance break.”

𝐁𝐄𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘𝐎𝐍𝐄'𝐒 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐘 𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐘 𝐀𝐓 𝐏𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐄

tags: free use, gangbang, blowbang, bukkake, praises, degradation, so much dirty talk it's actually insane, masturbation (f & m), exhibitionism, handjob, fingering (f), unprotected sex, triple penetration (2v+1a), anal , overstim (m), forced orgasm (m), indirect mxm kinda i guess and so. much. fucking. cum… i’m dead serious about this one. wc: 2.8k

the next day for practice all your muscles are sore but you still intend to give your best. sure you mostly danced in the back but the choreography needs to look flawless and for that you have to at least be believable.

As soon as you step inside the room, you slip out your coat and clothes to get back into “uniform” as mandated. the practice session is led by yunho and you carefully listen and go over the parts of the choreo that need polishing.

but after several hours of practicing your nature gets the best of you. you can't help but notice the boys in their sleeveless tank tops, their fitted contraption shirts or even their grey sweatpants that leave little to the imagination. truth is you’re so used to having their hands on you, you’ve grown addicted to it. without realizing you start to crave their eyes on you, their touch, their attention. you ache for your body to be played with, to be filled to the brim, to be made sticky and covered with their essence.

so you take advantage of a down time where yunho is going over the dance break once again with yeosang and you sit on the floor with your bare back against the white wall to relieve yourself of the pent up lust.

you spread your legs and let your fingers dip between your folds to find yourself already covered in slick. no wonder you were this horny, you’re already wet. you don't waste a single more second and push in a finger. you can't help but sigh delightfully at the feeling of your finger scraping your walls just right. you want more.

you slip a second one inside and curl them slightly to reach your soft spot. with your other hand you muffle your moans to a minimum and start to pump your fingers in and out. it feels fucking divine, and you don’t even notice the first member stepping towards you to enjoy the show you so gracefully provided. it’s jongho, the main vocalist usually doesn’t participate in the dance break since he’s usually delivering the high notes at the same time. hence why he was the only one not paying attention to yunho.

you suddenly stop and look up and you see his sneakers coming into your already blurred out vision.

“no,” he pulls out his already half hard cock out of his sweatpants. “keep going, darling. you know how much i like to watch”.

“o-okay” you said meekly, slowly fingering yourself again.

“yeah just like that, so pretty” he said, his other hand tightly wrapping around his balls. then another voice and a new pair of sneakers joined.

“why didn’t you say she was touching herself, jongho?” san’s voice speaks. “i wanna watch too” you look up to see him palm himself through his gray sweatpants, the lining of his growing bulge becoming more visible by the second.

“can you spread it open for us, doll?” another voice says, deeper, more strained. you hadn't noticed mingi coming off on to your other side. judging by the way his cock was leaking he might have been rubbing himself for as long as you.

“y-yes.” you slip your fingers out, not failing to also make visible long and stretchy strings of slick connecting them to your fluttering heat which made some of your audience gasp faintly. you place both hands on each side and pull on the skin, your pussy opens up and they all start to pump their fist around their cocks a little faster as they collectively hum and groan in approval.

“so fucking juicy,” jongho complimented. squeezing his balls tighter.

“you’re so cute, doll. so pretty.”

you can't help but blush as their eyes are fixated on your pussy. you slip the same cum coated fingers back in before you feel someone hold your other hand and lay it over their bulge. you looked up to see hongjoong.

“go on, darling. you know what to do” you nod before you keep on fingering yourself and rub hongjoong through his pants, making him grunt.

“fuck baby, you couldn’t even wait till the end of practice, could you?” you hear wooyoung say. you shake your head.

“no, i couldn't stop thinking about your cocks” you say, your eyebrows meeting on your forehead. “i’m sorry i’m such a desperate whore for my members’ cocks.” you look up at them gathered around you with glazed over eyes.

“fffffuck” mingi grunted. “i love when you talk dirty like that, doll”.

“show me.” san says before he grabs your arm, ripping your fingers off your heat, leaving the poor little thing pulsing around nothing. “show me how desperate you are," he said, wrapping your slick covered hand around his girthy cock.

you meekly protested at the new emptiness inside you but you soon forget about it when you start pumping your fist loosely around him.

then you feel someone wrap their hand around the other one. your head wips back to the other side and you see seonghwa pull out hongjoong’s cock out of his pants wrapping your hand around his dick.

“there you go, baby. i'll help you” he starts to move your hand up and down hongjoong’s cock as the latter whistles through gritted teeth. you match the rhythm san settled.

“i hope we aren't late to the party” yunho says, also taking his cock out to stroke it to the outrageous display of lust.

“yeah don't start without us” yeosang adds.

“don't worry we didn't even take her mouth yet” mingi assures.

“good because that’s my spot” yunho says. “jongho took it from me yesterday.” he steps closer, pressing his hot cock to your face and you instinctively open your mouth to let him slip inside.

“fuck i gotta taste her” you heard wooyoung say before feeling a long finger brush over your folds and you spot wooyoung bring said finger to his mouth. “fuck. you taste so fucking good, darling.”

“i wanna taste her too” yeosang says and wooyoung dips his finger into your folds again. only this time plunging his middle finger inside your hole to gather even more nectar.

“here.” he holds his hand to yeosang’s face and he licks around his bandmate's fingers, closing his eyes, focussing solely on your rich flavour. “fuckkk she tastes like honey” yeosang exhales.

wooyoung then lays flat on the practice floor room, on his stomach and makes his way to your core. he starts to lick you, his tongue flicks around the hard bud. making you arch your back into the cold wall.

“fuckkk” you manage to briefly say before yunho fucks himself into your mouth again. your consciousness slowly slips away from you as you become entranced by them. by their scent, by the way they feel on your body, by the way they look at you. you can only think of their cocks. in this instant you are convinced that's what you were made for. to be their toy. to be their little pleasure slave. there was nothing you desired more.

“make me some room, hyung” jongho said, standing next to yunho. he took his girthy cock in his hand and slapped it flat against your cheek a couple of times while your lips were still stretched out by the older one. you felt heat on your cheek as it stung lightly.

“again pleathh” you say.

“what a good little pain slut” yeosang praises, pumping his cock faster. jongho then slaps you again with his cock making you wince and moan as you tried not to go insane from wooyoung expertly eating you out.

then yunho pulled out.

“fuckkk i can’t” he says out of breath. “i'm gonna cum i need a break”

“my turn” mingi immediately says, stepping in as he takes yunho’s place. he brings you forth and you find yourself kneeling instead of sitting. everyone adjusts themselves around you before mingi puts his cock inside you.

“aaaahh” he sighs and you feel him twitch on your tongue instantly. “such a good little whore mouth” he says.

“hyung, it's my turn” you hear yeosang tell hongjoong and he switches places with him. while seonghwa still offers assistance, his gentle but assured grip still around your wrist, making sure the rhythm doesn't falter.

you all fuck each other like this for a while. frequently the boys take turns with your hands and into your mouth then switch and you feel them getting closer. they also slip between your legs and lap up at your pussy, all of them crazy for your taste, hongjoong and seonghwa even managing to have both of them licking your cunt at the same time.

“fuck. baby, i need your pussy” san said as he was twitching on your tongue.

“me too” wooyoung said from underneath you.

“o-okay” you pant. “i’ll take you both at the same time”

they both lay on their backs, facing one another, their legs over each other that way they were able to have both their cock stand next to each other. you hovered over them while the others watched in awe as you started squatting. you align your entrance with both their cocks and start to lower your hips.

“ngghhh” you clench your teeth from the sheer stretch of your pussy. the others stare at the way your hole extend beyond repair to accept their cocks. “oh f-fuckkk” you let out as you keep on descending on their cocks until you were able to fit them both inside, sweat pearling at your temples from the effort.

“fuck thats so hot let me see” mingi says, pushing jongho out of his way and pumping his balled fist around his length while they all stare in wonder.

“fuck baby. you look so hot with your pretty little pussy filled to the brim like this” yunho says.

“start bouncing on their cocks, darling” jongho orders.

you start to move up and down first very slowly, careful not to injure yourself but as time goes on you grow more comfortable and soon you are bouncing full speed on both their cocks making the two men moan and groan, making them slightly trust up into you, matching your rhythm.

“fuck i need a go too�� seonghwa say, circling the three of you coming behind you. he rubs his cockhead on your ass, his gentle hand gently bending you down slitghly. he presses his tip to your asshole. “d’you have a little room for me too, darling?”

you nod vigorously, stilling your hips briefly.

“yesyesyesyesyes please i want your cock in my ass pleaseee” you are so delirious on cock, you can't help but beg mindlessly for more. if you could get them all inside you at the same time you would without hesitation.

“so greedy~” yeosang mocks stepping near you and pressing his leaking cock to your cheek.

“stay still for a second, pretty” seonghwa says as he keeps on pressing his cock to your ass, you feel the large head breaching your hole, slowly progressing with low grunts, feeling every single one of your rings clenching tightly around him. “fuck she’s so fucking tight” he exhales, continuing to push himself in, until he fits all of his cock inside your narrow little hole. you feel yourself throb around the three cocks inside you.

instantly you start bouncing again. making them moan louder. your tits are jumping up and down with each movement and all of them watch avidly as you greedily took all the cocks you possibly could.

“please please please please” you chant like a prayer, “more cocks please” you cry, opening your mouth eagerly and bringing attention to your empty palms, tears rolling on cheeks from the overwhelming pleasure.

“awww you’re so cute.” yeosang coos. “there you go baby, another one” he whispers softly, fitting himself inside your mouth, his large hand gently stroking your hair to soothe you. while yunho and jongho take care of your hands.

“thang youmpf tho muchk” you struggle to say, more large tears rolling down your cheeks from sheer bliss. you immediately start to suck on yeosang, looking up at him and the others beside you, not breaking eye contact as you slurp and hollow your cheeks eagerly. matching the rhythm with your hands and earning pleasured groans from the main vocalist and the main dancer.

“fuckkk. she’s so impatient. i’m gonna bust” yeosang says as you become aware of his orgasm, you hollow your cheeks and suck even harder, looking him in the eye as he lets himself go, his cock spurts cum on your tongue but also all over your face.

“ah fuckkkk” he sighs with other profanities whistling through his teeth, before stepping to the side.

“my turn, baby” hongjoong says filling your mouth without a second thought.

“yetthth mwore” you rejoice, making the thick and salty cum roll on your tongue.

mingi steps closer, his cock in his hand looking about ready to explode. “fuck, you look so good like this full of cocks and covered in cum, doll” he pumps himself rapidly, standing next to hongjoong. “want more?”

“yetthh” you say with your mouth full.

“take it then- ah fuck- take my fucking cum-... like a good little slut” he sighs as he finally lets go on your face. some precious cum even reaching hongjoong’s shaft still filling your mouth which you hurriedly eat off his cock before the latter also releases in and out of your mouth. making a beautiful abstract painting on your face of three generous loads.

“fuccckkkkkkkk i’m gonna blow” seonghwa says from behind you right before adding yet another load to your precious collection except this one was deep into your ass and all over your ass cheeks and back.

“yesyes thank youuuu” you pant right before jongho replaces hongjoong in your mouth.

“baby i need your ass too” you hear yunho behind you before he also pushes himself inside your tight hole, the stretch feels amazing and you almost cum on the spot from it. He is so thick and big and reaches so deep, it’s heavenly and you moan on the youngest’s cock.

“oh my god-” you say in a strangled moan “please fill my ass with more cum please”

“what a good little cum slut you are” jongho praises. "you beg so well” he thrusts inside your mouth.

“god i won’t be able to last long” wooyoung says, his hips fucking up into you growing more and more erratic.

“just hold on a little longer," san says.

“fuck i- i can’t” he whimpes before he released his cum deep inside your cunt. that urges you to bounce harder on both their cocks. wooyoung starts to moan in a very high pitched tone as he had just cum and his cock was over sensitive, he squirms beneath you but you just can’t stop. you can’t think straight and you can’t get enough of their cocks.

“fuck slow down i just came” he pleads.

“no, i'm almost there” san commands, his large callous hands fly to your waist to make you bounce even harder.

“fuckkk please” wooyoung whines so pathetically.

“i’m almost there too, baby- aah. don't s-stop” yunho says behind you so you keep on going, your fire fueled by wooyoung’s adorable little pleas of despair. he sounds so cute you want to hear more of them.

“fuckkk. there you go baby i’m- i’m- … cumming” san says as his cock shot more delicious white inside your greedy little cunt.

“fuck oh my god-” wooyoung cries. “i’m cumming a-againnnn-... nggghh” he moans in a strangled breath, his hips miserably thrusting upwards into your creamed little pussy.

“yeah m-me too” yunho grunts. “fuckk imma fuck your ass full of fucking cum”.

“yeehtth please” you beg as jongho grabs your head with both his strong hands and fucks your throat, his thick cock head forcing itself down to your stomach.

“fuckkkkkk” jongho groans in unison with the others. yunho follows san delivering more cum into your rear end then jongho who preferred to give it to you directly into your stomach. his cock was so far down your throat that you didn't even need to swallow.

your pussy and your ass clench around the cocks still nestled inside you and this overwhelming feeling makes you cum on the spot, you are full of cocks and cum all over your weak body, perfectly ruined by your members. cum on your face, in your hair, in your mouth, in your pussy, in your ass, everywhere. they smeared themselves everywhere on you. you truly belong to them. those men own you. and you are just so happy to be able to fulfill your purpose. the thought makes you finish and you scream from pure bliss around jongho’s cock until you all collectively come to a stop.

they all slip out of you and admire the thick fluids trickling out of your exhausted shapeless holes. you look so beautiful like this. thoroughly used and ruined. the prettiest fucktoy. undoubtedly, the perfect addition to the group. the best 9th member.

a/n: omggggg i can't believe it's finally here!! i've had this fic in my drafts for so longgg. it's such a different concept for me. i hope you enoyed if you did please consider reblogging and/or leaving a comment? thank you <3

want more? maybe you'd be interested in this 18k ot8 fic i wrote synopsis. yes, you're suprised when your company offers you a vacant spot in the vip crew. but "surprised" doesn't cut it when you discover what kind of service your company provides the vips

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taglist: @ateezlover-120 @bro-atz @woohwababes @claimmeyourprincess @wisejudgedragonhairdo @iheartjazz444 @cybxrpnk @smally97 @redzie02 @alexxbear69 @therealcuppicake @hellomingi @lomons @sanhwalvr @m00gyu @weedforthoughtz @mingisprincess @vtyb23 @bkimrose @blonde-bummer

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importantstudentbusinessspy-blog · 3 months ago

Text

Heirs

Pairing: Robb Stark x Baratheon/Lannister reader

Tags: NSFW, Arranged marriage, Robb is a bad boy in this one, corruption, innocent reader, first time, angst,

CH. 2 - He was the center of attention. The day's champion archer was charming the girls with his stories and teasing them with flirtatious gestures. Your blood started to boil as you watched him, oblivious to the fact that he was doing this just to taunt you.

Chapter tags: fingering, semi-public fingering, voyeurism, corruption kink,

The music from the instruments was loud, and the atmosphere in the tent was filled with excitement, but you sat in your spot, glaring.

You didn't care that you were the only one. It wasn't fair. In Westeros culture, men were not expected to remain virgins until marriage. Robb took great pleasure in this fact.

You tried to focus on the conversation your ladies were having around you, but your eyes kept drifting towards him across the room, surrounded by girls from all over the country.

He was the center of attention. The day's champion archer was charming the girls with his stories and teasing them with flirtatious gestures. Your blood started to boil as you watched him, oblivious to the fact that he was doing this just to taunt you.

One Northern girl boldly kissed Robb, baring her sharp canines while he laughed into her lips as another girl ran her arms around his barely covered torso. He turned and gave you a sly wink, running his tongue across his own sharp canine teeth, knowing that it would only infuriate you more. And it did.

From his point of view, the delicate princess sat wide-eyed, chest rising in her expensive dress as she inhaled and exhaled harshly through her flared nostrils. So responsive.

Robb enjoyed provoking you - he didn't know why yet. Perhaps he was doing it to see how you would react, testing your feelings for him, or because he was unsure how to express his growing attraction. When he winked at you, it was not just to anger you—he wanted to see you break your perfect demeanor, to understand if this was just duty for you or if you had feelings for him.

Your mother taught you that wives must be composed, no matter how foolish their husband's behaved and how their behavior humiliated them. She would glance at your father on occasion, chin up and confident pose, while her eyes betrayed the anger she felt. You now understood the patience your mother exercised as you were experiencing the same thing with the Stark Prince. Jealousy made you realize your feelings for Robb, despite his behavior. You were torn between your upbringing as a lady and your raw emotions when it came to him.

As the night progressed, Robb kept up his game. You had had enough. Jealousy rendering you unnable to look anymore.

You released a grumble of frustration before getting up, lifting your skirts in a less than ladylike fashion and storming out of the tent, leaving your friends behind calling your name in confusion.

The cool night air hit your face as you took a few deep breaths, trying to calm yourself. Disregarding your safety, you wandered through the beach grounds, trying to calm your racing thoughts. You couldn't understand why Robb insisted on playing mind games with you.

It was just the second time you two had crossed paths, yet he somehow made you feel inferior.

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The previous morning

Robb Stark arrived in King’s Landing with a small Northern contingent for the summer tourney. You were seeing him for the first time in years, and it was immediately clear how much he’s grown—his transformation from the boy you once knew to the formidable man standing before you now. His physical growth and his commanding presence were evident.

You stood alongside your mother and siblings as he walked into the great hall alongside his bastard brother, Jon. The two were close in age, and both had formidable height and posture, that of trained soldiers. Jon seemed calmer than Robb, more inspective of his surroundings, while his older brother took confident strides.

Robb wore a leather jerkin, the dark material molding to his broad chest and wide shoulders, accentuating his muscular frame. Beneath it, a simple linen shirt was tucked into his trousers, and the sleeves rolled to his elbows to combat the heat, revealing strong, veiny forearms. A leather belt rested at his waist, bearing the Stark sigil and his sword at its sheath.

As you stood with the ladies of the court, their laughter and hushed conversations filled the air. Your attention was briefly stolen by the sight of Robb Stark entering the courtyard, his presence commanding the space effortlessly. The women around you fell silent for a moment before erupting into a flurry of excited whispers.

"Gods, look at him," one sighed.

"Have you seen those arms?" Another chimed in, leaning in to get a better view.

The first giggled, her gaze never leaving Robb as he moved through the courtyard and kneeled in front of the king. "He’s nothing like the men of the south... I wouldn’t mind being captured by a man like that."

You weren't sure if you wanted to agree or roll your eyes.

"Do get up, boy." Robert Baratheon drunkenly grinned at the young wolf. "Your father is like a brother to me, I dont need his eldest kissing my arse."

Robb stood up, offering a respectful nod. "As you say, your highness."

"You cheeky..." Your father shook his head, grasping Robb by his shoulders and laughing how he's changed since he was a boy. The two exchanged a few words about the Starks, including messages from Ned.

Then they both turned to look at you.

You felt your heart skip a beat. Those grey eyes, which you recalled as teasing, were now alight with something else as they roamed over your figure. Robb briefly glanced to your side where your personal guard stood. His eyes narrowed on him before blinking back to you.

You hoped to impress him with your wardrobe. Your gown was a rich velvet, dyed deep red. It clung to your frame in a way that accentuated your curves. The fabric cascaded softly around your hips and flared slightly at the hem, skirts flowing elegantly around your legs.

Your hair was woven with gold thread, pinned up in a way that highlighted your cheekbones and neck, a delicate chain with a small ruby resting against your chest, his eyes zeroed in on it.

Robb turned to say another word to the King, and you watched your father nod before dismissing the young man. Conversations arose in the court as your betrothed approached you.

"Princess," Robb offered a warm smile, bowing respectfully. "How lovely you've become."

"Thank you, Lord Stark," You offered a bow in return, hoping he didn't hear the gasp in your voice.

He regarded you with admiration, his eyes glancing condescendingly at your guard before falling back on you. He leaned down to wisper in your ear. "May I have a moment with you? Alone."

His lips skimmed the skin of your ear, his breath tickling your skin. You shuddered. You overheard your ladies giggle behind you as you nodded, straightening up and collecting yourself.

He held his hand for you to take, then walked you out of the room, Ser Oliver and Jon followed close behind.

You and Robb had a pleasant conversation about your time apart. Speaking about his training and your studies. He listened patiently as you spoke about the health properties of herbs and plants, grey eyes gazing intently as you passionately discussed your favorite topics.

At last, you guessed you've spoken long enough, asking him to tell you how his sisters were doing.

He chuckled, his eyes creasing. "At each other's throats. It can be quite amusing so long as you're not in the line of fire."

You nodded. "And your brothers?"

He turned back to Jon. "They like to watch as Jon and I spar and offer useless advice."

That image made you laugh. You've always wanted a big family to watch your kids grow to be friends as you saw the Stark children did.

Your eyes switched back to him, landing on his lips, full and framed by recently shaven stubble. You caught yourself staring, opened your mouth to respond when a young voice called out your name-

"Y/n!"

You turned in the direction where your sister, Myrcella called, running up to the two of you to grasp and pull at your skirt. "Sister! He's hurting the frogs again!"

You blinked, trying your best to understand what she was talking about.

"Joffrey!" Your youngest brother, Tommen, ran up to stand alongside his sister and pull you by your hand. "We were playing with them, and he started kicking them! You must help."

Robb saw you sigh and shut your eyes like this was not the first time. He turned back to exchange a look with Jon, who shrugged in turn.

You let them pull you, turning to offer Robb an apology. "Apologies, my lord. This will just be a moment."

"Take your time, princess. I do hope the frogs are alright." The corner of his mouth raised slightly when he said it.

So, Robb considered, this is what you were up to all day, mending small animals and nannying your siblings.

Jon walked to stand alongside his brother, watching you rush into the garden to stop Joffrey from crushing a frong with a rock, scolding him while carefully taking the injured animal in your hands. "Must you always hurt the poor animals, Joff?"

Joffrey gave you an ugly glare and spat, "Why do you care? You're going to be Stark's pet soon enough, anyway."

Myrcella gasped. Tommen stared between you and Joffrey awkwardly.

Both Robb and Jon both froze, exchanging a look of disbelief at the young boy's cruelty to his own sister. Even Arya never spoke this way to Sansa.

Despite Joffrey’s words, you remained calm toward him, shielding Tommen and Myrcella from his sneers. "This is not how a future king behaves, Joff. Very poor manners, especially in front of guests."

Joffrey rolled his eyes. "A king behaves however he wants."

You opened your mouth to speak again, but he got up and walked away. Your shoulders dropped with a huff of frustration.

"Can you treat it?" Tommen spoke. You followed his gaze down to the frog in your hand. The poor animal had a cut along its limb.

"If you hold him, I can try my best." You smiled at your brother, taking your small sewing kit from your sleeve.

Over the years, you had gotten quite good. Practicing by sewing up Joffrey's scraped knees when he would fall. Tommen gently held the frog as you washed the wound with water, sewed it shut, and wrapped a small amount of gauze around it.

Jon and Robb observed from their distance.

"That's our future king..." Robb murmered quietly. "And my future brother."

Jon, being naturally perceptive, quietly pointed out to Robb. "At least her and her other siblings' kindness contrasts with his."

Robb grimaced still.

"I notice the way you glowered at her guard." Jon added before teasing him. "Perhaps your feelings for her are more complicated than just familial duty?"

"Perhaps you should..." Robb turned to sass him off, but Jon’s observation lingered on his mind. "Perhaps we should step away. This seems to be a family matter."

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Jon stood by Robb’s side, serving as support. He noticed Robb’s distracted, jealous glances toward the royal stands where you sat, observing the archers beside your guard, occasionally exchanging a few comments with the man.

Jon nudged Robb, “Could you be more obvious?"

Robb tore his gaze away from you. "Sorry."

"You’ve faced worse foes than a well-dressed guard.” Jon spoke, assessing the archers stance and technique.

Robb pulled at his bowstring, typing it to his bow while speaking, "You were always the cool-headed one," he spoke quietly. "Sometimes I envy your ability not to get so... emotional."

"It comes with the title." Jon offered, referring to his bastard blood.

"Stop it, Jon." Robb shook his head. "You know we dont think of you that way."

Jon nodded, not responding to Rob's obvious lie. "Don’t mess this up. You're the best shot in Winterfell, besides me, of course."

Robb snorted, lightly shoving his brother.

Jon continued. "This will be target practice for you. It's easier than half the game you bring back home."

"Sure," Robb wasn't concerned with the Archery contest. In the slightest.

And surely enough, you sat in the Royal stands, watching him best the other archers, hitting the center of the target from multiple distances to cheers from the crowd.

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Present Time

You were hiding behind the flap of a tent, sneakily observing a knight kneeling in front of a courtesan from Essos.

He seemed to be kissing her sex. You were confused by the position. It defered from everything you'd learned about lovemaking. The women made sinful noises. You were curious as to why.

Your eyes narrowed. But surely that wasn't right.

"He's quite good." A male voice spoke close to you.

"Gods -" Gasping, you jumped at the sudden intrusion, turning to see Robb leaning beside you, hair disheveled and shirt undone at the top, a drunk bkush spread across his cheeks.

His words registering in your mind, you huffed. "As if you would know."

He chuckled, then took you by the arm and turning you to face him, your skirts swooshing between your legs as you came face to face with him, your lips a breath apart. Stormy eyes were focused on your lips with such intent that you found it hard to look. Visions of him embraced by the northern girls flooding your mind again. Your cheeks heated up so much that you had to back up away from him.

Only there was no room, and you were stuck between himself and one of the thick tent posts. The wooden surface hard against your back.

"Do I sense some hostility, princess?" He hummed.

She shushed him, whispering. "Be quiet. Let's go,"

"And miss the performance?"

"Robb!"

He laughed and let you slip under his arm to drag him away. By the time you had walked off into a more deserted area, you had reached the water's edge, away from the camp and the crowds. Your bodice clung to you as you took in much needed deep breaths to calm yourself.

"So," Robb cleared his throat behind you. "Are you gonna tell me what you were doing creeping up on the swordman coupling, princess?"

You screwd your eyes shut. "Dont you have two girls to get back to?" You tilted your head mockingly. "Or was it four?"

You heard a huff behind you. "Ah, so it did bother you." His lips were by your ear in instead to wisper. "Good."

"How much ale have you had?" You felt goosebumps running up your arm.

"Less than you think."

You rolled her eyes. "It would anger anyone."

He shook his head, his curls brushing against your locks. "It wouldn't anger an un-caring wife. I want my wife to be selfish over me."

Your breathes were speeding as his warm breath tickled your skin. His words tickled some other parts of you.

"So," he wispered. "Are you gonna tell me what you were you doing? Have you picked up an interest in the art of love-making?"

You chuckled. "If you can even call it that."

You felt his head tild behind you, as if confused. "You absolutely can."

You scoffed. "He wasn't even doing it right."

He chuckled, throwing her own words back at you, "As if you would know."

For some reason, that made you feel self-conscious, so you turned to glare at him.

He pursed his lips, throwing his hands up. "Apologies, princess. That was rude. What did he do wrong?"

You wrapped her arms around yourself. "He didn't even... he wasn't..."

He raised a brow, anticipating.

"Well," you insited, before finally, quietly saying. "... penetrate."

"Well. You can't simply begin from that." He said nonchalantly.

That made you pause. "What?"

"Princess," Robb grinned, bringing his hand to his temple as if rubbing at a headache.

You blushed, facing away from him. "You're laughing at me."

You couldnt see his eyes crease at the sides as he smiled down at your hair. "Darling, no."

"You are!" You turned back to him again, her skirts blowing with the small breaze, your eyes withholding tears. "I may not be experienced like you-" you pointed your finger at him. "-but I know enough! You can't have children by... through... what he was."

"You're right, you can't." He confirmed holding up his hands in surrender. "But who said children were the only outcome of sex?"

You remained quiet, now thoroughly confused.

"There is also pleasure." He hinted.

"Oh!" You nodded. "Well, sure, it can occur, but..."

"It must." He spoke like it was obvious. "You do know there are other ways to induce pleasure than mere penetration?" He asked.

You blinked at him.

A grin spread across his face, wolfish canines shines in the moonlight. "Oh, you're going to enjoy this study, princess."

Your mouth opened as if she wanted to say something but looked unsure.

"Trust me. The maesters won't-teach-you-this." He slurred slightly. "And if they do, that's bad. Then you have to tell me."

Curious eyes met confident grey ones, and you gave him a soft nod, taking his hand, letting him lead her down to an empty cove.

The two of you sat by the sand. At first, you took a seat side by side with him, but he pulled you to sit in front of him with you back to his chest. Never having been this close to someone of the opposite sex, you swallowed nervously.

"Breathe, princess. You're in good hands."

"The last time you said something like that, I fell out of consciousness."

"Well, this time don't. I'd hate for you to miss this." He ran his hands along the uncovered skin of your arms, you collarbone, shoulders, you skin tensing up everywhere he touched. "You shouldn't rush into things when giving pleasure."

You nodded. "Right,"

He leaned down and trailed, sticking kisses from your ear to your neck, sending a trail of goosebumps that made you gasp.

"There are other sensitive zones on your body, not just inside your cunt."

You nodded, your toes curling against the sand. "Okay,"

"Like your ears and neck," He spoke through kisses. His hands reached to her your bodice, unlacing the front exposing your breasts, giving your nipples light touches.

You gasped, arching your back against him. "Mhn,"

"Or your breasts," he continued to play with your hardened peaks, rolling and pinching them lightly. You closed her eyes, your hand eaching to grasp at the sand. His hand trailed down to your skirts, pulling them up to your waist and exposing you to the cool night air before palming your heat between your thighs.

You jumped at the feeling.

"Or this spot between your legs,"

"What is it?" You asked, voice trembling.

"It's your special spot," he replied, his fingers teasing you gently.

You couldn't hold back the whine that escaped as he continued to touch you just the right way. You had never experienced pleasure like this before, and it was intoxicating.

He leaned in and whispered in your ear, "you should explore your own body, princess. It's full of hidden treasure."

Your breaths quickened as he continued to rub you, faster, and faster. "I... oh-"

Unable to hold back any longer, your body tensed up and shook as you experienced the first orgasm you had ever felt. You were overcome with pleasure, and your body shook with the force of it. He pulled you by your hair, craning your neck towards himself, and kissed you roughly. You reciprocated the kiss with enthusiasm, still shaking as his hand teased you through your climax.

When you pulled apart, he was happy to see your eyes still glazed over.

Robb had struggled with his feelings for you, wondering if they might be desire, or duty, but he also questioned how much power he truly had over you.

Going from girl to girl in Winterfell was a norm, but something about you was not the same. He wanted to corrupt you, to introduce you to a world of pleasure that you had no idea existed. Hed wanted to be the first to deflower the heir to the throne. It had been a long time since he had felt this type of curiosity. The image of you writhing in pleasure, your body arching, and moans of his name filled his mind, making his eyes shut to take in the fantasy.

"Is it like this every time?" You wispered, drawing him out of his thoughts.

"It should be," he leaned down to nibble on your throat. This girl. He needed to see her come undone again.

"Princess!" A male voice called in the distance.

Robb cursed. That fucking guard...

"By the gods! What time is it?" You jumped up before rushing to lace your bodice and pat your skirts back into place, tidying up her hair. Robb leaned back on his arms and stared as you rushed off, his teeth grinding.

You hadn't even said anything. Just left as if you didn't just share an intimate moment together. He chuckled to himself, running his hand down his face and lying back against the sand.

#game of thrones fluff #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones #game of thrones smut #robb stark smut #robb stark fluff #robb stark x you #robb stark x reader #robb stark

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msilwrites · 7 days ago

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Papa Bear Material Ch 8 (Captain Price Fic) - Whiplash

Chapter 1 Chapter 1 (Shorter Version) Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 9 Chapter 10

@darkangel4121@teenagellamaangel@madzzz0797@callsignferal(To the other’s who want me to tag you when there’s an update, just tell me at the comments)

A/N: Hi guys! Sorry for the delay in updating. I wanted to make sure I did proper research on how an actual OPS (operation) goes down, so I could make the scene as realistic and detailed as possible. I tried to break it down so it's easy to understand and hopefully paint a vivid picture. Apologies if it’s a bit long, but HERE is a little bit of a spoiler; if you stick with it, there’s something funny at the end, so be patient! Or, if you're not feeling patient, just skip to the bottom and get your laugh. 😂 Thanks for reading! ----------

Y/N couldn’t ignore the progress her team was making. Their drills were faster, sharper, and far more coordinated than before. It was such a stark improvement that even they started teasing her about it.

But Y/N knew exactly why.

Price was relentless. Every drill, every scenario, he dissected her tactics with ruthless precision. A gap in her perimeter? Exploited. A hesitation in her decision-making? Targeted. Overreliance on sweeping and clearing? He turned it against her without hesitation.

It wasn’t just a training exercise anymore—it was personal.

Her team noticed too. While they kept things professional, the pattern was clear: Price wasn’t just testing the squad; he was laser-focused on her. The way he singled her out made her grit her teeth, though she kept her expression neutral. Giving him the satisfaction of a reaction wasn’t an option.

Still, his determination forced her to adapt. After every drill, she analyzed his methods, shored up the weaknesses he’d exposed, and adjusted her approach. Sometimes, she even managed to outmaneuver him, claiming small victories.

But those victories were fleeting. Every time she won, he came back harder, forcing her to lose twice over. It was infuriating, a game of tug-of-war where he refused to let her gain any ground for long.

And yet, she refused to back down. If Price wanted to play this game, so be it.

That afternoon, after the morning drill and a quiet lunch, Y/N stayed in her cubicle. She avoided the rooftop entirely, certain Price would be there, ready to disrupt her peace. Instead, she sat at her desk, pretending to focus on paperwork while her thoughts churned.

Always one step ahead, she thought, her jaw tightening. The frustration simmered as she replayed the challenge in her mind.

She hadn’t cared much about winning or losing before. Her focus had always been on her team—protecting her people, completing the drills, and moving forward. But now? With this ridiculous deal hanging over her head, the thought of losing felt unbearable.

Her hand hovered over the edge of her desk as an idea began to form. If Price won, she wouldn’t owe him anything—not really. She’d play along until her reservist ended, then disappear. Block him, ignore his calls, and ghost him completely. It would be clean and final. No date. No follow-up. No Price.

A flicker of satisfaction tugged at her lips. If he thought a few drills and some clever teasing were enough to wear her down, he had another thing coming. She wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of winning—not in the way he wanted, at least.

I’m a woman of my word, she mused, leaning back in her chair, but that doesn’t mean I’m playing by his rules.

Her plan solidified with each passing second. She wouldn’t engage. She’d leave him on read, let his messages pile up unanswered, and ignore his calls entirely. Let him deal with the frustration of being left in the dark.

He’d think he’d won—that his persistence and charm had paid off—but she’d pull the rug out from under him. No explanations, no closure. Just silence.

She smirked faintly at the thought, her resolve hardening. Price might be relentless, but so was she. If he wanted to play games, she’d make sure he left empty-handed.

With a quick glance at the clock, Y/N straightened in her seat, readying herself for the next round of drills. If Price thought he could push her into a corner, he was about to learn just how wrong he was.

----------

Y/N had managed to win two rounds of drills, narrowing the gap between their scores. One more win, and she’d even the playing field—or lose and be stuck honoring that ridiculous date. Or not. Disappearing was still an option, and her mind was already spinning with plans on how to make that happen.

The next day, however, brought an unexpected twist. There were no drills. Instead, the entire unit was called in for a counter-terrorism operation. The situation was serious—real, not simulated—and the urgency was clear. They needed to act swiftly, decisively, and most importantly, quietly. Resolving the threat before the media caught wind of it was critical.

Y/N was already gearing up when she noticed Price’s absence. For once, he wasn’t on base, and the thought gave her a small measure of relief. She didn’t know when he’d return—not that it mattered. By the time he did, she’d be gone, fully immersed in the operation.

Her focus sharpened as she prepared for what lay ahead. There was no room for distractions, no space for personal frustrations. The mission came first, and she intended to give it her all. If Price did show up later, it wouldn’t be her problem. She’d be in the field, doing what she did best.

One more drill can wait, she thought, strapping on her gear. For now, the stakes were higher than a petty competition. ----------

The operation unfolded like clockwork. Three teams, each with their assigned roles, moved into position with precision. Y/N and her team touched down on the rooftop helipad, the unmarked helicopter disappearing into the distance as soon as they disembarked. The air was brisk, and the city below carried on, blissfully unaware of the chaos lurking within the office building.

"Alpha One moving," her teammate reported over comms as he and another operator headed toward the fire exit on the rooftop, preparing to descend.

"Alpha Two in position," came the confirmation from the second half of their helipad team, who were securing their entry through the service access point.

"Alpha Three ready," Y/N whispered into her mic, her voice calm despite the slight tremor of nerves beneath the surface. She secured the rope to an anchor point on the rooftop, double-checking every knot.

Her smaller, lighter frame made her the ideal choice for the rope descent. Her teammates, though strong and capable, weren’t the ideal for this kind of maneuver. She, however, was.

“This isn’t a roller coaster at the theme park,” she muttered under her breath, tightening her grip on the rope and edging closer to the drop. At least here, she had control over the outcome.

The snipers’ voices crackled in her ear. “Targets confirmed on the ninth and tenth floors. Two on nine, three patrolling ten.”

“Copy that,” Y/N replied, her hands tightening further on the rope.

One of the snipers added, “We can’t fire clean. They’re grouped too tight. If we take one, the others will know before we can cycle the next round. It’ll blow the whole op.”

Y/N understood immediately. The targets’ close proximity and overlapping patrol routes made it nearly impossible for the snipers to eliminate them without alerting the rest. This wasn’t about precision—it was about timing, speed, and silence.

“That’s why you’ve got me,” she said, her voice dry but focused.

With a deep breath, she stepped backward over the edge and began her descent. Feet pressed firmly against the glass exterior, she moved smoothly downward, her body angled and controlled. Each step and slide was deliberate as she relied on the rope for balance, her rifle secured but ready.

“Ninth floor, second office from the left. Two targets,” one of the snipers reported.

“On it,” she replied, her voice steady.

Pausing her descent, she angled her body, flipping upside down with practiced ease. Her rifle was in position within seconds.

“Hold fire,” she murmured to the snipers. “On my mark. We take them together.”

There was a pause on the comms, followed by quiet acknowledgments from the snipers.

“Three… two… one… mark.”

Y/N fired simultaneously with the snipers stationed across the building. Her silenced shots punctuated the air as the figures behind the glass dropped in sync, their bodies hitting the floor soundlessly. The timing was flawless—no alarms, no panicked shouts.

“Clear,” she reported, resuming her glide downward.

“Three on the tenth floor,” the sniper advised.

“I see them,” she confirmed. Adjusting her position, she fired again with precision, her gloved hands steady. These targets were more spread out, but her silencer and sharp aim ensured they never knew what hit them.

By the time Y/N reached the designated floor, her teammates were already in position inside. One of them used a tactical glass-breaking tool to create an opening—a compact device designed to shatter glass with controlled force.

The sharp hiss of pressure and the cracking sound of glass breaking told her it was time. “Alpha Three, you’re clear,” her teammate signaled.

With a firm grip on the rope, Y/N swung herself inward, using the momentum to land softly inside the room. Her rifle was raised immediately, scanning the surroundings.

“Let’s move,” she ordered, her tone clipped and commanding. The team fell into formation, sweeping the next room with silent precision. ----------

The team moved swiftly through the first room, shots ringing out with practiced precision. Each movement was calculated—one target down, then another, each takedown happening in rapid succession. There was no time to waste.

Y/N and her team cleared the space, checking corners and eliminating threats as they went. Her focus was unbroken, the mission at hand consuming every ounce of her attention.

One of her teammates, a seasoned operative, gestured to the hostages huddled in the corner. “Move them out,” he instructed.

Another member of the team guided the hostages to the fire exit, his pace quick but measured. He ensured they stayed low, ducking behind furniture and moving out of view of any potential threats.

With the hostages safely on their way, Y/N and her remaining teammate moved to the next door.

“We wait for Alpha Four,” Y/N murmured, her eyes locked on the hallway.

“Understood,” her teammate replied, his voice steady but taut with anticipation.

They crouched in place, every sense heightened. The seconds felt like minutes as they waited for the others to arrive.

When the confirmation came through their earpieces, Y/N nodded. “Let’s go.”

Together, they moved toward the door. Y/N placed her hand on the breach tool, signaling to her teammate to prepare for entry. The device was positioned, ready to take down the door with minimal noise.

She took one last breath, steeling herself for the next phase. The countdown to breach was about to begin. ---------

As Y/N reached for the breach tool, the door to the next room shuddered under the pressure of a sudden, violent blast. The force hit her with unexpected power, sending her flying backward, crashing into the wall. For a moment, everything blurred—her body rocked from the impact, her breath knocked out of her lungs.

The blast had come from within the room—an ambush. The terrorist inside had anticipated their entry, and the door wasn’t just locked. It was rigged.

Her team reacted instantly, diving for cover, weapons raised. Gunshots tore through the air, deafening in their intensity. Y/N barely registered the chaos as her teammate, seeing her vulnerable position, lunged forward. He grabbed her, pulling her by the shoulders and dragging her to safety behind a nearby stack of crates.

“Move, move!” he shouted as they hit the ground. Y/N’s ears were ringing, her vision still fuzzy from the blast.

But they couldn’t afford to rest. The package—the critical asset they’d come for—was still inside with the terrorists. Y/N shook off the disorientation, forcing herself to her feet, gun in hand.

“We can’t let them escape with it,” she said, voice steady despite the adrenaline surging through her veins.

Her team nodded, their focus sharp. The mission hadn’t changed. They would break in, neutralize the threat, and secure the package. No matter the cost.

Shaking off the lingering disorientation, Y/N pushed herself up and sprinted down the hallway. The terrorists had moved fast, carrying sensitive intel—information that couldn’t fall into the wrong hands. Her helmet was long gone, knocked off during the blast, and she’d removed her balaclava to breathe more freely, the cool air filling her lungs.

Ahead, she spotted one of the terrorists. Without hesitation, she launched herself at him, her legs wrapping around his waist just below his ribs. In one fluid motion, she twisted, using her momentum to drag him down. Her arms circled his neck, tightening into a vice-like grip as she forced him into submission, cutting off his air supply.

He struggled, but it was too late—Y/N was already in control. His attempts to fight were futile as she held him firm, waiting for the rest of her team to catch up and secure the situation.

She charged forward, her body tense with adrenaline, as bullets suddenly ricocheted off the walls behind her. She barely registered the sharp pain in her shoulder, a bullet grazing her as she sprinted toward the fire exit. No time to stop, no time to think about the wound.

"Alpha Three, need backup, gunmen on my tail. I’m moving downstairs!!" she radioed, her breath ragged as she darted down the hallway, dodging the shots.

She had the package now, but the danger wasn’t over. With one hand clutching the precious intel, the other wrapped around a handgun, her knives still tucked securely at her side. The snipers were watching the glass, waiting for her signal.

"Alpha Three, abort! We’ve spotted a gunman on your floor," came the urgent call from the sniper. Too late.

The blow came suddenly—her face met the force of a backhanded slap, throwing her off balance and sending her crashing backward. Her head snapped against the floor as the terrorist lunged for his weapon, intent on shooting her and taking the package.

Reacting on instinct, she threw one of her knives, striking his palm and forcing the gun from his grasp. In a blur, she kicked it further out of reach, but the terrorist was quick. He pulled out his own knife, and the fight became a brutal, fast-paced melee.

The two exchanged strikes, the blade swiping past her face as she deftly evaded. His next move was swift—a stab aimed directly at her face. She blocked his arm with everything she had, forcing the blade away, and used her strength to push back.

With the force of the move, he stumbled, losing his footing. She seized the opportunity, maneuvering him to the ground beneath her. She quickly pulled out her own knife, aiming for a decisive strike—but he wasn’t finished yet. He pushed against her with all his strength, trying to keep her at bay.

In a savage moment of desperation, she sank her teeth into his arm, catching him off guard. He screamed in pain, his body jerking in response. But she didn’t stop. She pressed the knife deeper into his chest, her grip tightening as she continued to bite down, her teeth locking on his flesh. His eyes widened in shock and terror, but it was too late. With a final push, the blade buried itself in his chest, immobilizing him in fear and agony.

"Alpha Three, all clear. Package secure. Target down," she said, her voice strained, the metallic taste of blood lingering in her mouth.

The target had passed out from the pain—he wasn’t dead, though the knife had found a critical spot in his chest. The wound was deep, agonizing, but not fatal.

"Alpha Two, clear. Floor's secure. Charlie One and Two, you better fill me in on what you saw later," her teammate radioed, nodding toward the snipers.

There was a brief pause before the snipers spoke. "That was… well, quite savage, Inspector," they said, their tone a mix of admiration and surprise, trying to lighten the mood. They’d just watched her take matters into her own hands, witnessing the raw brutality of her actions up close.

----------

After the operation, she was rushed for medical attention. The bullet wound on her shoulder wasn’t just a scrape; it was deeper and more severe than she had initially thought. Blood oozed steadily down her arm, soaking the sleeve of her uniform, while the sharp, relentless pain made every movement unbearable. Her face, where she had taken a hard hit, was swollen and already blossoming into ugly shades of purplish-yellow, the throbbing ache a constant reminder of the brutality she’d endured. She had pushed herself to the limit, and her body was now making her pay for it.

Meanwhile, the unit worked quickly to secure all footage from the building’s CCTV. Keeping the operation under wraps before the media caught wind of it was critical sending it to MI5 afterwards. However, there was no escaping the evidence of her altercation—particularly the moment she’d bitten down on the terrorist’s arm to drive the knife deeper into his chest. One of her teammates, with a mischievous streak, managed to pull a clip from the drone footage and building cameras, which vividly captured her throwing the man down, the brutal bite, and the finishing stab. Within thirty minutes, the clip had made its way into the team’s group chat, where it had already earned the title of the "Savage Knife Fight."

The memes came pouring in. Someone photoshopped her face onto a snapping alligator turtle mid-bite with the caption: When the ‘snap’ in Snapping Alligator Turtle isn’t just a nickname. Another showed her lunging at a cartoon terrorist with oversized reptilian jaws, complete with a knife clutched in her teeth. By the time she’d finished getting patched up, the entire office had unofficially reaffirmed her title as the “Snapping Alligator Turtle” of the unit—a nickname she’d earned long ago thanks to the infamous joke patch on her uniform sleeve.

The patch itself was an inside joke from her team—a snarling cartoon depiction of a snapping alligator turtle, emblazoned with the words, “Fast? Not when you’re dead.” The twist? It was supposed to reference to her as a tortoise, not a turtle, as she was affectionately nicknamed the “Snapping Alligator Tortoise.” Her team loved pointing out that no such tortoise exists, making the name both a playful jab and a nod to her relentless tenacity in the field. After the knife fight? That patch felt less like a joke and more like a badge of truth, cementing her reputation in the most savage way possible.

The Chief smirked when he saw the latest round of memes circulating. “Looks like you’ve lived up to your patch again, Inspector,” he teased, leaning against the doorframe of the medical bay.

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a wry smile. “My other arm couldn’t push him down, so I had to do what I had to do,” she replied, her tone dry as ever.

The banter and jokes didn’t bother her—not really. If anything, they were a reminder that she’d done her job, even if she had to bite her way to the finish line.

----------

Earlier, the medic had to cut through the sleeve of her uniform to tend to the wound on her shoulder. Now, her dominant arm was heavily bandaged and barely functional, leaving her to manage everything with her non-dominant hand. It made simple tasks—like typing or clicking a mouse—frustratingly slow and clumsy.

To make matters worse, the painkillers she’d been given contained something that left her drowsy and sluggish, further slowing her progress. Every few minutes, she caught herself blinking too long, the haze of exhaustion tugging at her focus.

Her unit had urged her to go home and rest for the day. “You’ve done more than enough,” one of them had said, practically pleading. But she’d waved them off, stubborn as ever. “I’d rather finish the paperwork now,” she’d replied flatly. “No point in letting it pile up for tomorrow.”

So there she sat, struggling through the reports with one arm out of commission and her body fighting to shut down. Her movements were slow but deliberate, her determination unwavering. If nothing else, she refused to let a stack of unfinished paperwork get the better of her after the day she’d had.

The office phone rang, cutting through the quiet murmur of keyboards and low conversations. Her colleague in the next cubicle picked it up, his expression shifting from casual to mildly alarmed. He glanced over at her, hesitant.

"Uhhh… Commander Price is asking for you," he said, dragging out the words like he was delivering bad news.

Her fingers froze above the keyboard, and she immediately tensed at the name. For a moment, her tired brain tried to pretend she hadn’t heard him. With a sigh that sounded more like a groan, she finally looked up.

She was in no mood for this—not with her dominant arm out of commission, her painkillers making her feel like she was one wrong blink away from passing out, and her shredded sleeve making her look like the Hulk mid-transformation.

With a deadpan, drowsy expression, she replied, "Tell him I’m busy. Really sorry." Her tone suggested she was anything but. Without waiting for a reaction, she turned back to her painfully slow typing.

Her colleague hesitated, but then dutifully repeated her words into the receiver. A sharp click sounded as the line disconnected. He stared at the phone for a moment, then placed it gingerly back in its cradle, casting her a sidelong glance.

"You know he’s not gonna buy that, right?"

"Not my problem," she mumbled, squinting at the screen. "He can wait like everyone else."

About 10 to 15 minutes later, her colleague, now holding a freshly filled mug from the water cooler, burst into the office at full speed.

"Y/N! Commander Price is in the hallway! He’s heading this way!" he blurted, nearly spilling his drink in the process.

She froze mid-keystroke, her eyes widening in disbelief. "You’re joking," she muttered, though the look on his face confirmed he was very much not.

Her drowsiness evaporated instantly, replaced by a sudden, panicked burst of energy. She shot up from her chair, looking around like a trapped animal. Hide! Where to hide?!

Her first instinct was the file closet, but one glance at her injured arm told her there was no way she could wedge herself in there. Desperate, she looked at the desks, considered crawling under one, but quickly dismissed it as undignified.

"Think, think, think!" she hissed, spinning in a small circle like a malfunctioning robot.

Finally, her eyes landed on the fire exit. Without a second thought, she bolted for it, ignoring the confused looks from her colleagues. She flung the door open and dashed down the stairwell, taking two steps at a time despite her bandaged arm screaming in protest.

By the time she reached the first floor, she was breathless but didn’t stop. She ran straight through the lobby, past a bewildered colleague who barely had time to call out, “Everything alright, Y/N?”

“Yep! Totally fine!” she replied, not breaking her stride.

And then she was out the door, vanishing into the afternoon like a fugitive fleeing a crime scene.

----------

After bolting down the fire exit like her life depended on it, she burst into the parking lot, deciding to make a break for the mess hall building. Maybe she could catch her breath and grab a drink before Price found her again.

Unbeknownst to her, Commander Price was already in the mess hall. Spotting her sprinting toward the door, he leaned casually against the frame, waiting like a predator lying in ambush. As soon as she was close enough, he straightened up, a playful grin spreading across his face.

“Boo,” he said, his voice low but unmistakably teasing.

She froze mid-step, her breath catching as her eyes snapped wide open in disbelief. “No… NO.”

Without a second thought, she turned on her heel and bolted back the way she came. “Not today, Price! Not with my luck!”

Her panicked retreat was as chaotic as it was ill-planned. In her frenzy, she failed to notice the police van reversing directly into her path. By the time the warning beep registered, it was far too late. She collided with the front of the van, the impact sending her sprawling across the hood.

“FUCK!” she screamed, rolling with dramatic flair across the windshield before tumbling off the side and landing with a graceless thud on the pavement.

The van screeched to a halt, and the driver jumped out, his face pale. “Inspector! Are you—oh my gosh!! are you okay?”

“I’m fine!” she snapped, though the way she cradled her now definitely broken arm told a different story. Groaning, she flopped back onto the pavement, glaring up at the sky. “Just… give me a minute to die in peace.”

By then, the entire parking lot was in an uproar. Unit members spilled out of the building, drawn by the loud thwack of human-meets-vehicle. Captain Price, who had witnessed the entire debacle from the mess hall entrance, was already sprinting toward her, his expression shifting from amusement to genuine worry.

Kneeling beside her, Price’s gaze flicked from her arm to her face, his tone softer but still laced with teasing concern. “Bloody hell, darling. Are you trying to give me a heart attack? First running like a lunatic, and now this?”

She glared at him through the haze of pain, her voice sharp despite her discomfort. “Don’t darling me, Price. If it isn’t obvious, I didn’t want to face you!”

His lips quirked into that infuriating smirk she’d come to dread. “So, you admit you were running from me?”

Her eyes narrowed further, venom practically dripping from her gaze. “I blame you! If you hadn’t ambushed me, I wouldn’t have been running!”

Price raised an eyebrow, clearly unbothered. “Would it help if I carried your paperwork to the hospital?”

She let out a frustrated groan and shot him a rude hand gesture with her good arm as the non-emergency ambulance pulled up. The medics began loading her onto the stretcher, her scowl deepening with every second.

“Gosh, I hate you,” she muttered, closing her eyes as if willing herself to disappear. “This is all your fault.” her scowl growing darker with every jostle.

The medics prepared to shut the ambulance doors when one of them turned to Price. “Commander, do you want to ride along? She might need some support.”

Her eyes snapped open, fire practically shooting from her gaze. “NO! I said, keep that man away from me!”

Price, now thoroughly entertained, leaned closer with a grin. “See you at the hospital, love.”

The doors shut, muffling the beginning of what sounded like a creative string of curses.

The parking lot fell into stunned silence before one officer snorted. “Honestly? That might’ve been the best entertainment we’ve had all year.”

Another officer grinned. “Oi, Captain! You better follow her! She’s gonna need someone to carry all that pride back!”

Encouraged by the cheers and laughter from the unit, Price gave a mock bow, climbed into his car, and started the engine.

By the time she spotted his 4x4 in the ambulance’s window, her angry groan could probably be heard in the next postcode. “I swear, if that man follows me into the hospital, I’m filing two injury reports—one for my arm and one for my sanity!”

A/N: Well, I hope you enjoyed this chapter despite it being a bit on the longer side. I tried to get into all the messy, chaotic details. 😅 And just a heads up, it’s going to be a little harder for her to run away from Captain Price now, especially considering she’s injured. But we all know she’ll try, anyway. 😂 Thanks for reading, and as always, feel free to drop your thoughts below!

Edit: On to the next chapter!!-------->

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marisol-000 · 2 months ago

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The Sandbox Scientists ch.2

Chapter 2! I can't believe how long this got, I had to push some stuff to the next chapter sooooo look out for that one!

(a03)

The boys didn't take the news that they weren't going home well.

There were lots of tears and crying and yelling until eventually weak promises and the offer of cookies calmed them down.

She couldn't blame them of course, the poor things suddenly waking up in a place they don't recognize with people they don't remember.

But what could they do? Neither she nor Robert knew where Jekyll had lived, just “somewhere” in Glasgow; and forget Edward 'street urchin’ Hyde!

Even if they could send them home it probably wouldn't be a good idea. Whatever had happened to her friends was likely temporary, or at least more likely to be solved by one of the scientists here than any townie in scotland.

All they could do now was try to keep the two comfortable while they looked for a solution.

And the first step to that was to get the boys in some fitting clothes!

“Right, but we don't have any. This isn't exactly a daycare.” Robert mused.

“Well you seem to forget! I'm quite the gifted seamstress!” Rachel bragged, wiping some cookie dough off her hands.

She flipped the patterned rag over her shoulder. “I can have some outfits going for these two in no time.”

Robert leaned around her, peeking into the kitchens where the two were playing tag. Henry kept tripping over his pants which slowed him down, but Edward couldn't seem to catch him anyways; not stepping wide enough and his arms not quite reaching, so there seemed to be no clear winner.

He let the door swing shut.

“Hmm, A whole wardrobe? For two boys? There's no telling how long they'll be this way. We'll need shirts, slacks, vests, coats, shoes and who knows what else. I'd much prefer taking him to a tailor.”

“Him?” Rachel raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms, “I suppose you mean Henry.”

“Yes Henry.” he said unflinchingly, “You can't expect me to take Edward Hyde to the bloody tailor, he's still a wanted criminal you know.”

“He's a child!”

“He's a nuisance! He'll probably knock a candle over and set the shop on fire, it's in his nature.” he huffed.

Rachel paused and clenched her hands. She fixed him with a nasty glare.

“Don’t talk like you know him! That fire was *not* his fault! Master Hyde is a sweet boy who’s not done *anything* wrong.”

Lanyon hesitated, surprised by her sudden attitude change. Regardless he cleared his throat.

“Well, you seem to have forgotten about all the drinking and bar fights he’s known for. He's a bad influence. I don’t want him anywhere near Henry.”

Rachel rolled her eyes, “He is *not* a bad influence.”

She walked into the kitchen, swinging the door open and holding her arm out to gesture. “Edward Hyde is a charming young man who would never do anything wrong, much less convince Henry of all people to do so too!”

Both boys were on a chair, eating raw cookie dough directly from the bowl.

They blinked at the adults with their big round eyes.

Robert crossed his arms over his puffed chest, turning to her with an infuriating smirk.

Rachel sighed and got them cleaned up.

First Edward, then she balanced Henry on her hip while leaning over the sink. He was old enough to use the bar of soap by himself but she couldn’t resist wiping his rosy cheeks, humming while she dried his hands with her apron.

His feet barely touched the floor before Robert grabbed his arm and whisked him towards the door.

“Oi! And where do you think you’re going?” Rachel yelped.

“To the tailor, as I said.” Clearly believing he won that argument. Which he hadn't! She just… hadn't had the best timing.

“While he looks like that?” she gestured to Henry’s oversized and by now wrinkled clothes. “Robert, people are gonna think you kidnapped him.”

“Well how do you-” Lanyon made a shooing motion towards Edward, who was trying to follow them, “How do you expect the tailor to make him clothes without measuring him?”

Rachel rolled her eyes, sometimes she couldn't tell when he was being a helpless rich boy who couldn’t do anything himself or just plain stubborn.

“I’ll take the measurements, they don’t need him there in person. I’ll measure both boys and you can take that to them.

And say it’s for nephews come to town! No one’s gonna believe Robert Bleeding Lanyon of all people is taking in poor orphans.” That got a snort out of him.

Privately she didn't think it was a good idea to separate the two so soon, they only just stopped crying. And they'd been sticking close together since she and Robert found them. Seemingly feeling safe and comfortable with each other.

She snickered to herself. She couldn’t wait to tell Dr. Jekyll and Hyde how cute they were together.

Once they warmed up to the place the kids will be back at each other's throats in no time!

“Besides, you probably couldn't handle one child much less two.” she smirked.

Robert huffed, Take that! Who's winning now Robert?, and crossed his arms while sitting back down at the table.

“Fine, whatever, just measure them already.”

Rachel ushered the boys to her room, wrapped a measuring tape around the wiggly worms, and wrote a list of things for Lanyon to buy. With notes on fabric types and colors. Lots of Red and Green of course!

As much as she would have loved to see Edward in Eli's old clothes, they hadn't kept any from that age.

The neighborhood they had lived in was in constant need of hand-me-downs, and they hadn't been expecting to need things to remember him by…

Anyway!!!!! That just meant that it was time for her favorite activity:

Dress up time!

‘Edward Hyde’ was not enjoying dress up time.

They liked Rachel, the woman who found them, well enough. She was making them cookies after all, but she's so grabby!

Especially with him, he couldn’t go longer than a minute without being practically picked up in hugs or stuffed with various snacks.

Not that he didn’t want them, he was SUPER hungry after waking up, but the way she squealed when he said ‘Thank you’ hurt his ears.

Henry…it felt weird to call someone else his name. He tried to think of it like the two Jeffery’s in his class, who both had the same name. Instead of someone else who was him.

Henry didn’t like being prodded either. Whispering as much to him when she left the room with her note.

He agreed, and hoped whatever “Situation” the adults said they had to be here for would be over soon.

“Alright! Here are those cookies I promised you, *cooked* this time.” Rachel pouted, entering the room with a silver tray.

“You two are welcome to any books I have when you're done, I'm gonna be busy for a while.” With that she sat at some sort of machine. And started using it to stitch some fabric together.

He knew how to stitch! Well, kinda, Momma had shown him a few times, but putting dead animals back together was different than clothes.

He snuck glances at the boy who was also Henry, who occasionally glanced back.

He wanted to talk to him so bad, surely if they were the same person then he had done that too?

He wanted to ask so many questions, and try things he couldn’t do alone. It was thrilling to potentially have a friend that was willing to do weird stuff with him.

But for now Rachel was in the room, and adults never liked his ‘science’ much.

The two of them sat in silence and ate their cookies.

After what felt like hours the woman straightened up with a pop in her back.

“Whew! Two pairs of shirts and pants in record time! Ready to try them on?”

He looked up and nodded eagerly, dropping the dreadfully boring romance novel, “Yeah! It’s so cold in here.”

She whipped her head to look at him, pigtails flying.

“Oh! I’m so sorry Edward, I should have noticed! I’ll get you some blankets and more of Jekyll's socks, I’m sure we can layer them til you're warm again!”

He was sure she could layer them to the point that he would never walk again.

“Er, no thanks! The clothes will be fine.” he said, dodging another hug.

Henry snickered softly, out of Rachel's hearing. He snuck around and inspected the clothes she put together for them.

They were nothing fancy, buttonless white shirts and coal black pants. The stitching for both of them looked to be black too, but upon closer inspection it was actually a dark green, it seemed she had a lot of green lying around.

He wondered if she would notice if they took out the thread later, or if this was a ‘gift’ they'd have to rewear, like with his extended family.

“Well, when you two are done, come back to the kitchen and I’ll make you something more filling than cookies!” she said, and muttered, “God knows you two don't eat enough.”

“Yes ma’am.” they said in unison.

With another squeak and a giddy grin she shut the door behind her.

A few minutes later, the door slowly creaks open. And two heads pop out.

Archer was losing his mind. Maybe he saw wrong? Or was finally going mad like the general public believed.

Surely something had happened to his head because he could have sworn he just saw a child.

Two even.

“Uh…did you see that?” he asked Bird, welding pen loose in his grip.

Bird looked up from adjusting one of his contained moss cultures, “Hmm? See what mate?”

Archer was leaning comedically far in his chair to see out the door, cord stretching to its limit.

“Just. Two little…I don’t know, ghosts maybe? One of Maijabi’s do you think?”

Bird raised an eyebrow, “Something on the loose in the society again? Should we tell the others?”

“Uh, could be my imagination.” he said, but set the pen down where it wouldn't burn anything. He stretched his arms above his head and groaned.

“Well, I’m overdue fer a break anyway, it’s been a while since anything interesting’s happened around here.”

Flowers was on the hunt.

She was on her way to the kitchens for a bite when she saw a short shadow dart through the common room.

Fortunately she had all sorts of equipment in her pockets, a true scientist is always prepared! But for some reason her emf reader wasn’t picking anything up.

Not under a couch… not behind this case…

The clack of shoes alerted her to someone approaching but she was more interested in the sound of wheels or metal boots.

“Hello Flowers, what are you looking for?” Tweedy then, she should remember to ask about some more batteries before he left. Her mosquitoes were too small to include a charging port.

“A small robot,” she said, checking under a table, “ ‘bout waist height. I think one of Pennybrigg’s creations is on the loose.”

“Oh, is that what I saw? I thought Ito shrank someone again.” he laughed loudly.

“Yeesh, that woman can be cruel when she's pissed off. Still can’t believe Dr. Jekyll taught her how to do that.” she shuddered.

Tweedy leaned on an armchair, derailed from whatever he’d been doing, “Actually I heard it was Hyde, everyone forgets he is Jekyll’s lab assistant.”

“Ah, well I’ll believe Hyde did that.”

On the floor above, Lavender rushed in, skidding to a stop before the railing. A large net slung over her shoulder.

“Excuse me! Has anyone seen any kids around here?”

Flowers and Tweedy looked up at her in shock.

“Kids?! I thought that was a robot?” Flowers gaped.

“Well *I* thought it was one of our creatures. I saw something slip out of our lab and was chasing it, but it turns out there's actually human children running around the society!” Lavender wheezed.

“I can’t emphasize enough how dangerous this place is for kids.”

The two on the ground floor looked at each other, slack-jawed, then scrambled to help her search.

“Well, we’ll just hope none of your creatures slipped out after them!”

By now it had spread throughout the society that somehow, for some reason, there were children there.

A good amount of lodgers were gathered in a random hallway, loudly trying to figure out what was going on.

“Is it true? Are there really children here?” someone asked.

“Sure are!” Pennybrigg laughed, “I saw them with my own eyes!”

“Huh, I thought that's what that was but I didn't think anyone would be dumb enough to let kids in here.”

“Does anyone know how many? We can’t have any left behind that's for sure.”

“Just two. I had to chase them out of my lab.” Griffin huffed, “The damn brats laughed at me.”

That earned a few snickers from the very mature adults in the room.

“How’d they even get in here is my question.”

“Well, it’s not like we keep the doors locked, it's probably just some curious teens here for a lark.”

“No, they looked younger than that. What if they're lost and need help?”

“Has anyone seen Dr. Jekyll? He’ll want to know about this.”

“Screw Jekyll! We don’t need him to hold our hands all the time, we can find two kids by ourselves!”

“But if they get hurt it’ll reflect badly on the society!”

The crowd murmured in worry, with people either confirming they locked their labs or resolving to. Luckett cursed and sprinted off right then, almost losing his hat in his haste.

“Then we’ll just find them before they get hurt! Come on, less talking, more looking!” someone said, clapping their hands loudly.

With that the crowd split off into different hallways.

“I GOT ‘EM!”

Twenty minutes later there came a cry from Ranjit Helsby.

Like a flock of birds the lodgers descended upon him. Cheering and pushing to see his catch.

“You cheeky buggers can’t hide from us!” Helsby crowed.

The exploratory bathynaut was carrying one child in each hand.

Scruffed and struggling like kittens, the two were yelping and crying for help.

They seemed to be about the same age. One was brunette, with a healthy flush, and dark brown eyes. He was yelling to be put down and kicking his legs in the air.

The other was smaller, frailer, a little pale but was squirming and kicking the same. He had a wild shock of blond hair, and quite the set of lungs, his voice quickly growing hoarse from his shouting.

The outfits they were wearing were odd. They weren't anything fancy, though they certainly weren't the rags worn by street urchins. Bizarrely, neither of them were wearing shoes. Just plain clothes with visible stitching.

Contemplative, Flowers reached into her pocket.

“Oh Helsby, put them down already!” Cantilupe cried, “They’re damn near the verge of tears!”

Sure enough the boys looked like they were about to start bawling. With the blond starting to hiccup, and the brunette's lip wobbling dangerously.

Pouting, Helsby did, trusting the wall of lodgers to prevent their escape.

Predictably the boys were off the second their feet touched the floor. Everyone reaching arms out and bumping into each other to catch them.

However they didn't try to escape, simply darting for the nearest person wearing a dress. Who happened to be Chabra.

They crashed into her, nearly knocking her off balance. She startled but didn’t pull away. The small boys took hold in fistfuls and buried their faces in her skirt.

Chabra leaned down and awkwardly, cautiously, put her hands on their backs.

“Aww, guys we scared them! They're just babies!” Archer cooed from the crowd, triggering a flood of coos from everyone else.

The blond one peeked out to give a glare, but it was watered down by his red nose and big eyes.

“W-Who are you people? Leave us alone!”

Lavender curiously offered her skirt to the boy closest to her, the brunette.

He eyed it for a moment, then took the bait, reaching a pudgy hand out to the fabric. He didn’t grab on though, only running a hand over it a few times.

Incapable of going one at a time, the lodgers began bombarding the two with questions.

“Are you lost?”

“Do you need us to find your parents?”

“Who sent you??”

“Wot? Nobody-”

“Yeah what? They're literally children!”

“That's what they want you to think!”

“Do you want to see me set this plant on fire?”

“What are your names?”

“Hen-er- Ed-”

“Henderson you say, I had a cousin named that, but my uncle's name wasn’t Hender!”

“Oh, shut up Bryson!”

“No my names-!”

“Do you know someone by the name of Rachel Pigdley?”

The two boys look up at that.

Amidst the swarm of questions, Flowers had managed to win their attention, the other lodgers quieting down attentively.

The boys hesitate, suspicious. They whisper to each other, not even Chabra able to hear despite still leaning at an awkward angle.

“Do *you* know Rachel?”

Flowers puffed in pride at her hypothesis being confirmed. She relaxed her grin into a softer, hopefully reassuring smile.

“I do, she's the Day Manager. Next to Dr. Jekyll, she's the boss around here. Though she’s quite nice when you get to know her.”

Pushing someone out of the way, she approached the boys and carefully knelt by them.

She reached into her pocket. And turned it inside out.

“You see? Rachel’s a friend of mine. She sewed some pockets into my dress for me.” Flowers showed the boys the stitching on her inner pockets. The thread was a lighter shade of green than theirs, to match her dress, but visibly the same pattern and spacing.

She could have done them herself but these ones had been thanks for fixing an alarm clock Hyde had broken when he came in a window once.

This more than anything seemed to convince the boys. They let go of Chabra completely and leaned over her pocket like curious birds.

“Yeah! Rachel patches up some of my stuff too!” Sinnet jumped in.

He raised the elbow of his shirt, where a large brown patch was surrounded by some soot that had never washed out.

Some of the others pitched in, getting the idea.

“Yeah mine too!”

“And me!”

The two boys seem convinced and relax fully. A few people let out sighs of relief that they wouldn't have crying kids on their hands.

“Do you live here too?” asked the blond, looking around at all the people.

Sinnet looked at him quizzically, “Too?”

“Yeah, like Rachel and Robert.”

“Oh, yeah! Can't say I know any Roberts, though.”

“They mean Dr. Lanyon dear. Dr. Robert Lanyon, our co-founder?” Lavender sighed.

“Huh, I didn't think he liked kids, you suppose they’re new recruits of some kind?”

“Do we look like babysitters? Half the things in this building could kill a child like *that*!” Luckett snapped his fingers.

To everyone’s surprise the two boys gasped in excitement, “Really?!”

They didn't look scared, they looked eager. And… curious?

“Er…yeah actually. Do you… want to see them?”

Lavender smacked the man on the shoulder, “Luckett!”

“Come on! You saw their faces! Remember when you were that age and curious about the world? I'd bet anything these two are scientists!” he nodded confidently.

That got some excited whispers. Everyone turned to look at the two boys.

Their mismatched eyes were open as wide as possible, jaws dropped. “You-you’re scientists?” asked the brunette.

Nods from the crowd.

They looked at each other, then back. “We’re scientists!!!”

“That settles it! Let’s give them the grand tour!!”

The lodgers broke into cheers and lifted the boys up, prancing up the stairs as fast as they could.

As the others raced towards the nearest lab, Cantilupe and Maijabi followed at a more leisurely pace.

Once they reached the landing, the rapid click of flats managed to reach their ears.

Glancing over, they watched as Rachel ran through the halls and the common room. Calling out and frantically checking behind furniture.

“Oh, there's Miss Pidgley. I was beginning to think something had happened to her to have left those boys alone so long.” said Cantilupe.

Maijabi squinted, adjusting his eyepatch, “Hm, least she could’ve done was give us a heads up if there were new lodgers. It’s not like her.”

She paused to take a breath and called out again, “Edward! Henry! Edwaaaardd!!”

“Ah, that explains it, Hyde’s on the loose again.” Cantilupe giggled.

“Ha! That'll keep her busy fer a while. Suppose we’ll have to ask about the boys later then.”

Cantilupe nodded in agreement and they carried on behind the others.

Rachel checked the candelabras to make sure no candles were knocked over.

#The Sandbox Scientists #the glass scientists #tgs #tgs jekyll #tgs hyde #tgs rachel #tgs lanyon #tgs lodgers #like so so many #i love them all #the strange case of doctor jekyll and mr hyde #my fic

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mechformers · 2 years ago

Text

Ma Miles - Ch. 21

12.6k words

Chapter warning:

Animal death (hunting), Ritual drugs (glow worm and "scorpion" poison), PTSD hallucination - drowning, child death, death, gunshot wounds, blood

For those of you who doesn't already know, I've been dealing with the loss of a much loved pet. The hiatus that happened wasn't planned, but the emptiness left behind after his passing hit me much harder than I thought it would. I haven't been able to write much at all and so time passed me by. I'm still finding it very difficult, so updates might be every other week instead. At least until I can gather the creativity to write for longer periods of time.

On a better note though, we've officially reached, and passed, 100.000 words on this story! 🎉 I'm so incredibly grateful to all of you for reading the story and for cheering me on while I write it. Your support has been way and beyond magnificent! Thank you so much ❤️❤️

(If you want to be tagged with the updated chapters, please leave your @ myusername in the comments!)

Previous chapter | Masterpost | Chapter 22 - Coming soon

“It’s time, Quaritch,” Jake chuckles as he stands before the bed, Tonowari crowding closely behind him.

Groaning, Miles rolls over to his back, taking your sleepy form with him, his hand spreading across your bare back as you rub your face into his chest sleepily. Behind you, Spider snores loudly, his short limbs spread eagle, his lips parted as he breathes. Shifting his eyes back to the mop of your hair beneath his chin, a content hum rumbles through his chest and then your beautiful eyes flutter open once more to stare up at him. The small smile that crosses your lips has his heart stopping in his chest, taking his breath away - until Sully snorts indignantly above him. Tearing his eyes from yours, Miles scowls up at Sully, a growl ready to leave his lips.

“It is time, my friend,” Tonowari ushers again, poking Sully in the side before getting up from his bent position.

“For what?” Miles growls, noticing how your lips pull into another smile against the skin on his chest, no doubt enjoying the rumbling his raspy voice is making beneath your ear.

“Can’t say,” Sully grins widely down at him, that mischievous smirk sliding onto his infuriating face once more, “Get moving, Colonel,”

“Ronal and Mo’at will be waiting for you at ranteng utralti when the sun is full, Y/n,” Tonowari addresses you, smiling gently when you rub your face against Miles’ chest as you mumble something affirmative.

Rolling to your back, you release his arm from beneath your head and just like that, your sleepy morning cuddle is over. Sighing, Miles sits up in the bed and rubs the sleep from his eyes before yawning. The faces looking expectantly down at him reminded him more of labrador puppies than actual clan leaders, but tough tits, this was just his luck now, he guessed. Getting to his feet, he slowly bent down and draped the blanket over your sleep-warm body, covering you from the other men’s eyes - not that they probably bothered to check you out, but it still made him feel better. Stroking a finger over your cheek, Miles smiles down at you, feeling his heart jump in his chest when you turn your face into his finger and smile.

“Let’s have lunch here today,” He hums, watching as your eyes slowly close and open again. You were always so malleable in the mornings. No scowls, no hisses, no distrust as you clung to him like a lifeline.

“Yeah, that’s not gonna happen, Quaritch,” Sully offers, that annoying mischievousness still stuck to his voice.

“Supper?” He asks, raising his eyebrow only to watch as Sully and Tonowari both shake their heads - negative.

“Ronal and Mo’at will keep her company until we return,” Sully smirks and then he moves towards the entrance of your home, just trusting that Mile’s would follow, “Don’t worry, Colonel, we’ll bring you back to her in one piece,”

Growling, Miles shakes his head, sparing the two of you one last look before following the pain in his ass and his equally annoying friend outside. Closing the flap to the hootch tightly behind him, Miles hums as he breathes in the crisp morning air. The sun has barely risen on the horizon, the village still bathed in the bioluminescent hues of Pandora as he walks through it, following the idiots until they reach the beach. There are a couple of dozen warriors waiting for them, their little canoes bobbing in the water, ready to leave when they arrive. Huffing with annoyance, Miles follows Sully when he nods his head toward the furthest canoe. The prospect of getting into the water yet again, in a boat-like transportation with Sully, didn’t sit well with him. The last time he’d been on a boat, well…

“C’mon Colonel, promise I won’t drown you this time,” Sully grins with a huffed chuckle, his eyes all but glittering with humor as he reads Miles’ hesitation like an open book.

“Hilarious,” Miles drawls, scowling over at Sully before taking a deep breath.

Trust - he reminded himself. He needed to trust Sully again if he was to do this. It was the only way to be with them, to be…free of the RDA once and for all. Walking up to the canoe, he pushes it into the water before jumping in with Sully. The shit-eating smirk that he sends him has Miles huffing while shaking his head. Now, Miles had always adapted pretty quickly to any situation he was thrown into. It was what had made him such a great Marine and an even better chief of security for the RDA, but this shit? This shit was uncomfortable as hell. Just the sound of the water brushing past the canoe had goosebumps erupting all over his ridiculously exposed skin.

“You’re doing alright, Quaritch,” Sully offers him after a while, a genuineness in his voice that he hadn’t heard before. “If I’m honest, I’ve been struggling with water too since… well,”

Miles just hums, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth. He’s not about to have a therapy session with Sully, but the admission somehow made him feel a little bit better. After he was healed, he had a helluva time trying to conquer his newfound fear of water, which was absolutely ridiculous. He was a goddamn decorated Marine for fuck’s sake. A Marine didn’t fear water. Yet, when the sea crashed against the roots below their hootch, he had felt his breaths becoming shorter as his palms grew clammy - his heart racing ridiculously fast in his chest. He had refused to call it a panic attack as that would indicate that he suffered from PTSD - and that he most definitely did not.

Not that there was anything wrong with having PTSD, Miles knew a lot of strong men and women who bravely fought through it, but that didn’t mean it was something he struggled with. Too lost in his own thoughts, however, Miles didn’t register when the canoe approached the shore, the sudden stop rudely tearing him out of his thoughts. Clearing his eyes, he notices that they’re in a completely new part of the island groups. Following his old Corporal out of the canoe, he pulls it with him up on the beach like the others have done. Sully joins Tonowari at the front and just like that, something Miles barely recognizes molds his face into a mask of leadership. It was an expression he had only seen twice in his life, once in the video of his own death and the other when they fought on the Sea Dragon. It wasn’t hard to imagine Sully as a clan leader when he looked like this, although the admission didn’t sit well with him. If he were to do this, however, he would just have to swallow his own opinion of the man.

“Alright, gather around,” Sully raises his voice and waits for everyone to join the circle around them.

“We will have a special Iknimaya today,” Tonowari informs when the last soldier joins them, crossing his arms over his chest before looking at each one of them.

“We are in a situation where Iknimaya will be performed in a mix of two clans, the Matkayina and Omatikaya,” Sully picks up, the tone of his voice gnawing on Miles’ patience.

“Today, the Great Mother will test Miles Quaritch, will judge his heart to see if he is worthy of being one of the people,” The big chief looks at him the same way he had when he had first awoken in Y/n’s hootch, but behind his eyes, mirth danced clear for anyone to see.

“C’mon Colonel,” Sully grinned, waving him forward to step into the circle.

Taking a deep breath, Miles shook his head before clenching his jaw, squaring his shoulders as he stepped forward. He had to trust the process, had to trust that Sully would not do him any harm. Yet, trusting him was difficult in a situation where he was surrounded by Na’vi. Sully had lived with them for fifteen years. Had been their leader, had married a Na’vi, and had kids with her. He was as much a Na’vi as any of the others surrounding him.

“Hope you’ve trained with a bow and arrow, Quaritc,” Sully snickers as he steps forward, that annoying grin spreading across his equally stupid face.

“Today, we hunt,” Tonowari’s voice booms to rising cheers around them. “Omatikaya style,”

“What’s going on, Corporal?” Miles grunts, unable to keep the annoyance from his voice.

“You’re gonna be a man, Colonel,” Sully grins up at him, the sides of his eyes crinkling with amusement, “Congratulations,”

“Ngaah,” Miles grunts before placing his hands on his hips, “And how do I do that?”

“Well, your situation is a bit… different than normal. Usually, you would have been a teenager and completed your Iknimaya in the way of your clan, but you know, that’s not where we are today,” Sully explains and it rings a bell in Miles’ mind.

“Y/n made the unit go through Ikni-maya before she would allow us to get the ikrans,” He offers, noting how Sully’s grin widens.

“I know, she told me,” He chuckles before nodding his head toward the forest. “We already know that you can fly and have bonded with your ikran. Although your Iknimaya was never official, we’ve decided to have you hunt for us to complete it. You will have to perform clean kills. Should be easy enough for a seasoned Marine like yourself, right, Colonel?”

It’s a jab at his pride, Miles knows it is - still, he’s helpless to keep the growl from entering his throat. Bending his ears down, his tail whips annoyed behind him. It only results in Sully’s grin spreading wider though. A warrior steps up to Tonowari with two small bowls in his hands.

“You will receive the markings of a Metkayina warrior,” Tonowari steps forward, handing one of the bowls to Sully as he approaches.

“You will bear the mark of the Omatikaya,” Sully offers, that same leader-like mask hiding his amusement from the others.

Dipping two of his fingers into the black goo in the bowl, Tonowari presses the two digits to his forehead, spreading his fingers in a small circle that doesn’t meet in the middle. Next, Sully steps up to do the same thing, his thumb dipping into a yellow paste, this one thicker than the black, before he presses his thumb between Miles’ eyebrows, drawing a straight line up over his eyes, ending it in his hairline. Dipping his thumb into the paste again, he repeats the motion on the other side before pressing his thumb to Miles’ forehead, inside the black circle Tonowari had drawn previously.

“Call your ikran, Quaritch,” Jake hums before yipping for his own, the call shrill in Miles’ eyes.

Putting two fingers to his lips, Miles whistles loudly, uncertain if Cupcake would be able to hear him from this far away. It should not surprise him when no more than ten minutes go by before banshees could be spotted in the distance, quickly approaching them. When Cupcake lands on the beach though, Miles isn’t at all surprised to see Hawnu with her. Reaching his hand toward Cupcake, he greets her with a good forehead rub before turning to Hawnu, hand outstretched to do the same.

“I wouldn’t do that, Quari-” Sully hastily adds before his words die in his mouth when Miles rubs Hawnu’s head the same way he had done to Cupcake.

“I wouldn’t worry too much, Corporal. Hawnu and I go way back, don’t we boy?” Miles chuckles as Hawnu pushes harder against his hand.

“Well, Eywa certainly go a sense of humor,” Sully sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose before staring at Miles again, “The only other person who’s allowed to touch him is Spider,”

“Well, like his father, the kid does have a way with wild animals,” Miles grins back before he steps away from the banshees.

“Touché,” The Corporal deadpans, rolling his eyes. “Bob and I will take the lead. We’re hu-”

“Bob?” Miles can’t help but interrupt Sully.

“What? Like you named your ikran any better?” He shoots back, lighting fast, eyes lighting with amusement when Miles just growls. “What’s her name, Quaritch?”

“None of your goddamn business, Corporal,” He bites, making the connection with Cupcake for the first time since escaping the Sea Dragon.

It punches the air from his lungs as Cupcake screeches. Immediately, his mind is bombarded with worry and pain, the feeling of hopelessness and fear, of heartache and relief. Gasping for air, Miles’ eyes only clear when Hawnu pushes his forehead into his back, all but pushing him forward against Cupcake, the two of them creating a protective circle around him. Distantly, he can hear Sully shouting for him to just breathe, to try and ground himself, but the input from Cupcake is too much. He had made her feel this way.

Desperately, he tries to push apologies through their bond, tries to calm her down enough to take a breath, to fill his burning lungs with much-needed air, but it’s no use. Cupcake screeches again and again, her wings flapping wildly before him until he closes his eyes, fear gripping his heart. The thought of you, however, calms him. Your eyes, your smile, your warmth, your love, it gives him the strength he needs to step forward, embracing Cupcake’s neck as he orders her to calm down. It doesn’t take long before she’s breathing heavily against his chest, the air hot and moist where it hits his skin.

“It’s alright, Cupcake,” Miles hums, stroking her neck, “You’re safe. We’re safe,”

Minutes go by like that, Miles trying his damndest to calm her down, to calm Hawnu down behind him. To his utter relief, Hawnu steps away from their protective circle and then Cupcake lifts her head, shaking it as she spreads her wings wide, ready to glide through the air.

“You haven’t made tsaheylu with her since the ship, have you?” Sully asks calmly, wary of Hawnu’s sharp eyes on him.

“No,” The word comes out raspy, dismissive.

“Alright,” And with that, Sully connects to his own banshee, stepping up to sit astride him.

“You ready, girl?” Miles whispers, receiving a chirp in return.

Mounting Cupcake, Miles grabs onto her as she flaps her wings hard, lifting them both into the air. Immediately, calm settles over the bond between them, Cupcake’s relief at being airborne with him once more. Sully takes them away from the beach, away from the island, and prying eyes, steering them out over the wide ocean. For well over half an hour, they do nothing but fly and Miles realizes then that this is for him, for them. Looking over at Sully, he’s not really surprised to see his Corporal already watching him. Nodding his head that they’re ready, Sully nods back, reading Miles loud and clear as he changes course back to the island they had left.

“We’re hunting sturmbeests,” Sully shouts over the wind as he flies his banshee closer to Miles. “Follow my lead and make two clean kills,”

Nodding his head in understanding, Miles follows Sully’s lead as he takes them over the jungle. Below, beneath the canopies of trees, something huge moved on the ground, making everything around it shake with force. It isn’t until the first clearing appears that Miles gets to see what a sturmbeest is, the bison-like animals smashing everything in their way as they run along the river. Diving down, Sully readies his bow before letting go of an arrow, the force behind it cutting through the air like a knife in hot butter before it hits its target, piercing the soft operculum, making the huge animal drop within seconds.

Miles could do that. Sure he could. Swallowing loudly, Miles felt his mouth go dry as he readied his own bow and arrow. The small amounts of practice Y/n had made them go through probably didn’t make up for the skills he would need to take down one such animal, much less two, but hell, he had to at least try. Picking an animal in the pack, Miles silently asks Cupcake to dive down after it. The next few minutes go by too fast, his first arrow hitting the animal’s soft operculum immediately. Then, unbeknownst to himself, Cupcake makes a summersault and dives anew for an animal Miles apparently must have looked at which made Cupcake decide that this was the next target. Miles is clumsy to get the next arrow out of the quiver, cocking it with shaky fingers as Cupcake approaches too quickly. Still, when Miles lets go of the arrow, it hits home and the animal crashes down to the ground beneath it.

Surprised, Miles lets out a victorious whoop, gripping his bow as he grins widely. Sully is looking at him with surprise of his own, no doubt disbelieving of what he had just witnessed. Unable to help his chest from puffing out, Miles laughs as they dive for a landing, the pack of sturmbeests now long gone, leaving the fallen animals behind. Jumping from Cupcake’s back the moment she lands, Miles jogs over to the first animal, removing the arrow and making sure that the animal was dead before saying his thanks, just the way you had taught him. Repeating the same motion with the second animal, he washes the arrows in the stream before placing them back into the quiver.

“She taught you well,” Sully hums as he steps up behind Miles, kneeling down to wash his own arrow.

“She taught us all well,” Miles agrees, smiling fondly over how patient you had been with them all. “I thought these animals were bound to the mainland?”

“Normally, they are,” Jake hums as he gets up on his feet, “The pack migrated over to this island a few weeks ago. Made for easy access,”

“So what now?” Placing his hands on his hips, Miles waits for instructions.

“Now we wait until the others get our position. It’s on the river, so it should be easy enough to transport the parts with canoes until we reach the open sea,” Grinning at him, Sully shakes his head as he steps over to a big stone, climbing up to sit down on it.

“Spit it out, Corporal,” Miles growls, reading Sully like a book.

“You did well,” He starts, but it’s not really what he wants to say, so Miles just waits, and sure enough, eventually Sully sighs before he continues. “You’re not how I remembered you to be, and yet, you’re somehow exactly the same,”

“Should I have been anyone else?” Miles snorts, unable to poke the sleeping bear.

“You know what I mean, asshole,” Sully chuckles and it’s not the response Miles was expecting.

“Well, getting murdered by your wife, being brought back as a blue friggin tree hugger, discovering the son you left an orphan was raised by your enemy, kidnap said son, having his mother hunt your blue ass down, drowning by said enemies hands only for your son to save you and leave your sorry ass, and then for his mother to save you from certain death certainly changes a man. You should try it sometime,” Miles deadpans, noticing how Sully winces at more than one recap.

“So she hunted your ass down?” He eventually asks, that same glint of humor entering his eyes, and try as he may, Miles couldn’t help his huffed chuckle.

“Showed up outside the gates of Bridgehead like she was some kind of John Rambo incarnate, demanding to see me,” Miles grins at the memory. ”Tried to choke me to death. Damn near succeeded had it not been for Corporal Wainfleet,”

Sully whistles his aspects before chuckling to himself. The grin that spreads across his lips is one Miles had always found charming, something that probably made him accept the younger man into his weird little family.

“Her wrists were bound,” He adds and just like that, Sully loses his composure and bursts out laughing.

“She was bound?” The laughter rings through the open riverside, bouncing off of the trees as Sully laughs and try as he might, Miles couldn’t help his own huffed chuckle as he shook his head.

“Yup,” Miles pops the P, “She jumped me after I threatened Spider. She wrapped her legs around my waist, pinning my arms as she wrapped her hands around my neck. Tried to dislodge her, but I went down like a redwood. Wainfleet entered shortly after,”

“You threatened Spider?” Sully sobers, his eyebrows raised comically high.

“Yeah, it wasn’t a direct threat, more of an implication that he might get hurt. Either way, I did the mistake of referring to myself as his father… Let's just say that hell hath no fury like that woman,”

“You should have seen her when we got back to camp without Spider,” Sully snorts, his ears flattening against his skull. “Scared me half to death, even made Neytiri take a step back,”

“Damn,” Miles whistles imagining just how furious you must have been.

The silence stretches between them as they think about what they had just learned. Intellectually, Y/n’s anger was understandable. Hell, Quaritch had seen time and again when he was younger. War brought out the strongest in mothers, especially when protecting their children. Your reaction to Miles threatening Spider should have been expected, especially with the knowledge that you had left your clan to search for him, walking up to enemy lines to surrender just so that you could be reunited with your son. You must have been a helluva warrior in the tree-hugger clan. Distantly, he wondered if you would have fought in the battle that ultimately punched his ticket and if you might have crossed paths.

“Who is she?” He hears himself ask, watching as Sully’s eyebrows furrow in confusion.

“That’s just it, Quaritch. She isn’t anyone important in the clan,” Sully speaks slowly, choosing his words right, “She wasn’t a warrior, not a hunter, gatherer, or artisan. She helped Norm out with the orphans, that’s where she found Spider,”

“Spider was in the clan?” He could no more help himself from asking as he could help himself from turning his head to fully face Sully.

“He was too young to be put into cryo and when we sent the humans back to earth, he was left alone when the other kids were adopted by the other scientists. Spider just kinda… He didn’t fit in anywhere, but when Y/n came, she would make sure he was properly cared for, that he was active and was fed right.” Sully’s ears droop as he talks, his tail thrashing anxiously behind him.

“It didn’t take long before they were inseparable. Y/n bent backward to give him what he needed and as he grew, Spider and Lo’ak, my second-born son, became best friends. She’s just kind of been there, in the background, ever since. Helping the clan where she’s needed. We never even knew she could be that angry before I had to tell her that you had kidnapped Spider and that we had allowed it to happen,”

“If she’s not a warrior or a hunter, how come she has a banshee?” Miles chose to ignore the other information, choosing his battles.

“Spider…” Sully hums, but doesn’t elaborate.

“Spider?”

“Yeah. They must have been around five and seven or something. Lo’ak had decided it was a good idea to sneak off after the teens that were ready for their Iknimaya, to have a look at the ikrans. Some of the people had noticed them following the party out and one of them had mentioned it to Y/n. When I arrived, I only had enough time to locate them before an ikran spotted the kids.” Sully picks at the knife in his hand, the blade dangerously close to slicing his skin open.

“Lo’ak?” It isn’t lost on Miles how Sully said that this was Lo’ak’s idea and not theirs or even just Spider’s. He specifically said Lo’ak.

“To follow Tarsem and the teens, they would have had to take a pa’li - a horse-like animal, and seeing as Spider is unable to make tsaheylu… Well, it wasn't difficult to put two and two together,” His old Corporal almost looks embarrassed as he continues, “Which is probably how they ended up at the old shack to be kidnapped by you too. Lo’ak called it in,”

“A lawbreaker, just like his daddy then,” Huffing a chuckle, Miles shakes his head, watching as Sully does the same before sobering up again.

“Ikrans will kill children, will kill adult Na’vi if the chance presents itself. It’s just the way of their nature. Y/n tried to talk to the boys, to help them get to safety, but they were just kids - they were too afraid. When the ikran lounged at them, Spider pushed Lo’ak away, shoving him out of harm's way. Luckily, the ikran had miscalculated and missed as its maw clapped shut.”

“How does that explain why Y/n got an ikran?” Miles can’t help his impatience, feeling his skin growing tight as he long to see that Spider is alright.

“Spider went tumbling over the mountain edge with the force of the ikran’s maw and well, Y/n jumped off of the mountain after him. Tarsem jumped on his own ikran and dived after them while I ordered the teens to watch Lo’ak before doing the same. No matter how fast we dived, we couldn’t see them. They were gone, disappearing into thin air. I figured I would have Tarsem send a search party to the bottom of the mountain t help me locate their bodies. A big shadow suddenly flew over us and we had to hide, thinking it was a great Toruk. When we got back up, Y/n was standing there with Spider in her arms, and behind them, Hawnu screeched furiously at us.” His old Corporal looks troubled as he recalls the memory, his brows furrowed as his tail whips anxiously behind him.

“Hawnu saw something in Y/n when she jumped off of the mountain after Spider, something no other Na’vi had shown him before her. He decided that she was worthy of his loyalty, so he picked her as his rider, diving after them. The great Toruk that we thought we saw - that was him gliding over us. For some reason, he willingly gave himself to her, creating a bond, unlike anything that has been recorded to date. Hawnu is the biggest of his kind, a rarity in both size and color. Many Na’vi has tried to bond with him throughout the years, but he has not allowed anyone to do so before Y/n.”

“Hngh… And what does Hawnu mean?” Miles hums in acknowledgment before asking, already thinking that he knows the meaning.

“It means protector,” Sully offers, a thoughtful smile on his face.

Huffing an affirmative, Miles lets it sink in. You had named your banshee protector after he saved your lives and what had he done but steal your lives, taking you away from your home just to hunt Sully? Silence stretches between them again until Tonowari arrives with the rest of his war party, the canoes slowly navigating up the river stream. They teach him how to wield his knife through the animals' thick armor, teaching him how to part and how to save the skin. Nothing goes to waste, he notes as they divide the parts, getting them ready for transportation. The amount of meat would feed the entire village well and the realization made something burst inside of his chest. Pride for providing was not something he would have ever thought he would feel, but there he was, the corners of his mouth lifting as he washed the blood from his arms and chest in the river. He couldn’t wait to get home and tell you all about it.

Freezing for a moment, he let the thought sink in. Home. To you. Shaking his head, he didn’t want to admit to himself that he was becoming soft, but there was little need to admit anything when the truth stared him straight in the face.

“Ready to go back home, Colonel?” Jake huffs behind him, sheathing his knife.

Nodding, Miles steps into the canoe as Jake pushes it all the way into the river. The current takes them to the open sea in record time without them having to do much more than navigate. However, when they hit open water, Sully slows them down to a stop beside Tonowari’s canoe.

“We will take a tsurak back. It will be your challenge for the Metkayina to ride it smoothly,” Tonowari offers, immediately sending chills down Miles’ back.

Sure, he had been training with Sully, but that had been inside the relatively safe enclosure of the seawall. This, however, was not. This was open water. This was the bane of his existence when this new life of his brought him awfully sour lemons, making it impossible to tame it into lemonade. He’d never particularly liked the water, as strange as that was for a Marine, but he’d never had a problem with it like this before.

Grunting something affirmative, Miles bites the inside of his cheek as he watches one of the warriors arrive with three skimwings. He was so not looking forward to this shit, but if it was the only way to be accepted into this clan, then so be it. He would have to do it for Spider - for you. They had given him everything when he had deserved nothing, his discomfort with water would have to take the backseat for the time being. Taking a deep breath, Miles lowers himself into the water, making the first move. Connecting his queue with the skimwing never gets old, the sheer wildness of the animal coursing through his brain at lightning speed as he tries to mount the beast.

It’s easier than he had thought it would be, the animal’s presence in his mind somehow calming him down when all he wants to do is sever the connection and get back into the stupid canoe. But as with most things these days, Miles doesn’t get what he wants. Instead, Sully and Tonowari lead the way while he tries to keep his balance on the skimwing, trying his best not to panic whenever it would dive underwater. The sheer and utter relief he feels when the seawall pops up in the distance is painfully like the dream he used to have when he was young and less blue. The closer they get to the village, the more the sappy feeling of joy overtakes him. The village meant home and home meant you.

“You have learned well, my friend,” Tonowari comes up beside him, his ears pointing forward as he smiles, nodding slightly at him.

“Of course, I taught him,” Sully huffs from the other side of Miles, making him snap his head back to growl at his Corporal.

“You are pathetic, Sully,” Miles hisses, his voice so painfully bothered by the other man.

“Ouch, Colonel,” Sully snorts as he feigns hurt. “You know you’ve enjoyed it,”

Grumping to himself, Miles ushers his skimwing to swim faster. When he’s close enough to the shore, he gently breaks their connection, but not before giving thanks to the animal. It’s like muscle memory, something he just does without having to think about it, but when he realizes it, it stops him dead on his way back to dry land. This tree-hugger shit was getting to him without him even noticing it. Immediately, it makes his mood darken as anger floods his mind. Even if becoming one of the people was the end goal here, he didn’t want to lose himself in the process. He didn’t believe in this mumbo-jumbo stuff anyway, so why did he… -

“Go find Y/n, she will prepare you for the rest,” Sully offers, clapping his hand on Miles’ shoulder as he walks up to the beach with Tonowari.

Y/n. Now that was an anchor he could focus on. Moving one leg in front of the other, he eventually finds himself in front of your hootch, only to find it empty. Raising his head in the air, he lets his eyes glide over the village and nearby hootches, but you are nowhere in sight. Sighing deeply, he walks across the bridges until suddenly, he catches the sound of Spider’s laughter. Following the sound, he’s met with the sight of his son’s grinning face as he looks up at you. There’s a basket by your feet, carefully put to the ground as you jump back and forth after Spider, catching him in your arms and blowing raspberries on his exposed skin. Spider tries to do the same, climbing you like a tree whenever he succeeds. It’s obvious that this is a game you're used to playing with each other, the ease with which you dance around each other, one that only comes with repetition.

Stepping forward, it doesn’t take long before you notice his presence, your ears twitching in his direction, your tail wagging lazily back and forth. You’re happy to see him, he realizes, and then you turn your head, directing the most beautiful smile Miles has ever seen at him. Spider, on your shoulders, grins widely too as he waves him over to them. Huffing a breathy chuckle, Miles is helpless but to move his legs in their direction. Hell, even Quaritch would have been helpless in this situation.

“How’d it go?” Spider asks breathlessly, crossing his arms to rest his chin over his mother’s head, the ears now twitching on each side of his.

“Got two animals and rode a skimwing back,” Miles offers, only for your smile to grow even bigger as you look up at him.

“Awesome!” Spider hoots, his own grin growing bigger as he stares at Miles.

“The warriors are coming back with canoes,” He doesn’t know why he continues to talk, he’s already replied to Spider’s question, but there’s something in him that wants the conversation to continue, if only for a little while more.

“The hunters,” You offer him, your smile gentle as you shift your weight on your feet, making Spider grab onto your forehead to keep balanced. “They are hunters, but some of them are also warriors,”

“Hunters,” Miles repeats, nodding his head.

“Now, so are you,” Your smile is warm and gentle as you lay your hand between his pecs.

“You did good,” Spider adds, his small hand patting Miles’ head, making his ears rotate toward him, open and… happy?

“You look good like this,” You hum, smiling up at him before you move your hand to his right ear, “With your ears relaxed,”

Closing his eyes, Miles takes comfort in the way your fingers gently trace the rounded tip of his ears, your fingertips soft and warm. Sighing, he turns his head into your hand, relieved to feel it open to welcome his head. You take a step closer to him, the heat of your body bathing him in even more comfort. Reluctantly, Miles reaches forward with his hands, gently placing them on your hips as if to test if he’s allowed to or not. But when you don’t move, when you instead caress his cheek with your thumb, he opens his eyes to find yours already searching for his.

“Uh, guys…You’re gonna be late to your own party,” Spider interrupts, making Miles lift his head to look at his son incredulously. The grin Spider offers him could only be described as shit-eating, the knowing look on his son’s face sending sudden heat to his cheeks that weren’t there before.

“Our son is right,” You whisper while continuing to caress his cheek with your thumb. It makes a full-body shiver run through him while his ears twitch as his tail whips a couple of times behind him.

“Awkward…” Spider sing-songs as he steps down from his mother’s shoulders.

“We should go,” You chuckle as you take his hand, making his breath freeze in his lungs, “We have a lot of preparations to finish up before it’s dark,”

“Can I go with Lo’ak?” Spider asks as falls into steps beside you, but Mies barely even hears him. His ears are ringing as his legs move on their own accord while you hold his hand, initiating contact for the first time.

“If that is what you want, Spider,” Your voice is gentle and warm as you speak, the sound itself caressing Miles' ears, “I will be close to your father if you need me,”

“Awesome, thanks Mom,” Spider whoops, but Miles isn’t really sure what is going on anymore. The only thing he is sure of is how warm and small your hand is in his.

Before he knows it, you’re all back in your hootch, the warm rays from the setting sun painting the inside in a golden glowing hue. Spider puts the basket down and starts collecting stuff before you hand him a small satchel that looks as if it’s specifically made to fit his small stature. And why wouldn’t it? Hell, you were a woman to be reckoned with, that was for sure. Everything else Spider wore was made to fit him and it is as if Miles is just realizing what you’re doing for your son. These items were all handmade, were all crafted for Spider. When you had time to make them, he had no idea. Your days were filled with lessons from that old bat with the soul-searching eyes, and when you weren't there, you’d be with him, teaching him the Na’vi way.

“Good luck,” Spider’s small arms wrap around his waist as well as he’s able to before quickly letting go again, and then, his son is out of their hootch like a bat outta hell. What this was about, Miles had no idea.

“Come,” Your hand find his again, gently pulling him with you, “Sit down,”

And so he does, eyes wide open as he stares at you, watching as you kneel before him. The basket sits beside you and inside it, there looks to be a bowl of white goo, some cloth, and a bowl of some kind of watery clear liquid - which, in retrospect as he watches you dip the cloth in it, was just water. Gently, you wipe his face down with the cool cloth, continuing down his shoulders, his arms, and then further. Briefly, embarrassment enters his mind as he’s reminded that you’ve seen it all before. That you’ve seen…worse. It’s a time he would rather forget about, a time when he was more vulnerable than ever before, and yet, you had treated him with dignity, with a respect he hadn’t deserved. Not from you. Not after what he’d done to you.

“Thank you,” He croaks, his voice breaking at the unfamiliar words. “Thank you for being Spider’s mother,”

It stops you dead in your tracks, your eyes widening as you look up at him in confusion. And why wouldn’t you? A woman needed kindness to be able to trust, needed reassurance. He knew for a fact that he had not given you either one of those things. Yet… the way you looked up at him spoke of a different story, one he had yet to understand. So he just watches as you nod your head, a soft smile crossing your lips before you dip two fingers into the bowl of white goo.

“This is ceremonial paint,” You explain to him as you raise your hand to his forehead, running your fingers across his skin in a pattern only you can see, “You will go through Uniltaron today - the dream hunt. It is the Na’vi way, a rite of passage,”

“It will not be easy,” You continue, lowering your hand to rest over the bowl.

“I’m used to difficult tasks,” Miles hums back, daring to poke his finger against your knee.

“This is different. You will swallow an eltungawng - a glowing worm. Then, you will bear a sting from a kali'weya. I do not know the sky people word for it. It will give you a vision in which you will follow,” Dipping your fingers into the paint again, you explain to him how this dream hunt works.

“So it’s like a drug then? I’ll hallucinate something?” Miles offers as you start painting circles on his chest.

“I do not know what hallucination is,” And of course, you wouldn’t know what it was. There hadn’t been a setting on Pandora in which you would need to use the word.

“Hallucination is like a dream, it isn’t real - just something you think you’re seeing,” Miles offers in return only for your hand to freeze on his skin.

“A dream is a vision, it is real,” You challenge him and for once, Miles doesn’t actually want to take the bait. Instead, he nods his head seriously. “It is the Great Mother’s way of speaking to us, to let us know that we are not alone - that she is out there, that we are not forsaken,”

“Alright,” Miles hums gently, before painfully continuing, “I will have a… a vision,”

“You will have a vision and it will guide your way. It is important that you follow it. If you do not, then you will forever be lost within the grasp of Eywa,” The way you whisper the last part makes him pause, understanding what you mean.

“How often do people… not make it?” He’s unable to help himself and by the way you sigh, you had known this too.

“It happens sometimes,” You whisper before continuing to paint him.

“I will make it back to you and Spider,” Miles whispers as he reaches for your chin, gently lifting it so that your eyes meet once more, “I promise,”

It might have been a stupid thing to promise, but he had to come back to you. He would fight the deity herself if he had to, but he would return to you and when he did, he would do his best to become what you needed. Hell, he would live this tree-hugger life if it meant he could be with you and Spider. He would even tolerate the Sullys for you.

“Do not make promises you cannot keep,” You whisper back, your eyes glittering with emotions. “You are strong. You will do well if you follow the vision,”

By the time you have finished, he looks like a Christmas tree. There are stripes and swirls all over his body, but you’re not done yet. Dipping your fingers into the paint again, you motion for him to lower his head, and when Miles does, you put your fingers above his lips, slowly pulling them down, painting the last mark over his lips, his chin, his throat - until they stop between his clavicles where it meets the other stripes. Stepping back, you observe your work, clearly pleased with yourself.

“So… how do I look?” Miles hums, opening his arms to show off.

“Ready,” You smile back at him before reaching out for his hand.

Taking a deep breath, Miles takes your hand, following closely behind you as you lead the way through the village. Distantly, he notices that there are no people around, the village is all but deserted. Walking past the communal area, you take him further into the island until you reach a huge cave. There’s music and song coming out of it, low lights flickering against the moist cave walls, and when they arrive at the center, the entire village is there - waiting for him. It dawned on him then that this was a big thing for the Na’vi, a lot bigger than he had first thought. Distantly, he remembers Sully talking about this moment of becoming a man in the eyes of the clan when they had still been human. The final rite of passage, of sorts.

“Oel ngati kameie, Olo’eyktan. Oel ngati kameie, Olo’eyktan,” You greet both Tonowari and Sully with the customary gesture and their titles before turning to the old bat and Mrs. Tonowari, “Oel ngati kameie, ma Tsahìk. Oel ngati kameie, Tsahìk,”

“Oel ngati kameie, Olo’eyktan.” Miles parrots less elegantly than you did, and when he comes to Sully, he’s unable to help himself. “Oel ngati kameie, Sully,”

His disrespect of Sully does not fall on empty ears, though to his surprise, Sully himself snorts and grins before gesturing back to him. There’s a glint in his eyes that Miles can’t quite place, but when you huff irritably, he realizes that he’s used his one leeway for error on a jab against Sully. So instead, he takes a deep breath and turns to the old bat and Mrs. Tonowari.

“Oel ngati kameie, Tsahìk.” He notices how the old bat smiles at him, so unlike her batshit crazy daughter, before she gestures back.

“Oel ngati kameie, Tsahìk,” Tonowari’s wife is her usual serious self, stiff as ever he saw, but she is polite enough, gesturing back to him as if he was just any old normal Na’vi instead of… well, he wasn’t that guy anymore.

Well, not after this anyway. Had he been, he would have used this to his advantage, to help the RDA get the upper hand on the native population. That would only bring doom and suffering - his specialty it would seem. With this new chance, however, he found that he didn’t want that fate for the Na’vi. His son was here, had been welcomed by the people, despite what Miles had done to them in the past, or even in recent times.

“Miles Quaritch of the sky people, you have proven yourself worthy to go through uniltaron, to put your life in the hands of Eywa for the chance to become an adult - to become one of the people,” The old Tsahìk speaks, her voice ringing through the cave with a steady wave.

“Despite your past, you have proven yourself worthy of becoming Metkayina,” Mrs. Tonowari continues, not missing a beat. “You will walk through the Great Mother’s trial and if you emerge, you will be welcomed as one of us,”

“Miles Quaritch,” The old Tsahìk calls to him, “Are you ready?”

“I am,” Miles hums, his confidence unwavering.

He would complete this rite of passage and then, he would finally get a break from all of this mumbo-jumbo tree-hugger shit. So when Mrs. Tonowari gestures for him to sit in the middle of a series of painted circles, Miles does as told, waiting patiently until you walk toward him, a small bowl in hand. The glowing worm inside of it wiggles around the wooden surface. The prospect of having to eat it doesn’t exactly please him, but then again, he’d have to eat worse things to survive than a glowing worm. Gently, almost too gently, he takes the bowl from your offered hands, letting his fingers grace yours before retreating the bowl. Looking up into your eyes, he bends his head back and tips the bowl, swallowing the worm while holding eye contact. Sully snorts as he steps forward, holding a scorpion-looking creature in his hand. Miles guessed this was the sting part of the rite.

“This is gonna sting like a bitch, Quaritch,” Sully whispers as he rounds Miles, a gesture that has you hissing angrily on his behalf.

Reaching out to grab your hand, Miles squeezes it to reassure you that there’s nothing Sully can do to him, but as he does, Sully lets the scorpion sting once, twice - two more before you hiss at him again. Only then does Sully round his body to stand beside you, a shit-eating grin on his face that lets everyone know just how much he’s enjoying this. Grouching, Miles clenches his jaw at the blooming stings before letting go of your hand. He needs to find his center if he’s to do this with any kind of honor left. Winking at you, Miles closes his eyes as he crosses his too-long legs, resting the back of his hands on each knee while he works on his breathing.

The blooming sting on his back is only spreading, the nausea that follows taking him by surprise. He hasn't felt this way since… He can’t actually remember, but when his chest starts to hurt, in two distinct places, he guesses this new body of his doesn’t actually need the memory to remember. There’s a thumping sound behind him that’s a bit too loud. It makes his ears twitch with every sound, making it difficult to concentrate on his breathing. It doesn’t help when the blooming sting spreads to his front or when different sounds and voices blend into the mix.

They sound so far away, yet, they’re right there. There’s a constant stream of noise bombarding his senses, but amongst them, one he now knows all too well stands out. There’s a steady dripping of water to his left, dripping louder with each heartbeat that pounds in his chest. Miles knows that if he chases that rabbit, he will be lost forever. He needs to hear your voice, to hear Spider’s. Hell, he’d even settle for Sully if only he could recognize something, if only he could find familiar ground to stand on, to hold on until this thing ended. He knows that he can do this, but the pain, the isolation is slowly leading him away from where he needs to go. In a desperate attempt to hold on, he calls out your name, the sound burning up his throat as it emerges. It feels as if he’s swallowed acid, as if he’s breathing fire, but when his voice eventually does leave, it echoes with a sound he’s never heard before - hoarse and almost scared.

He doesn’t register when he’s fallen from his sitting position, but suddenly he’s on his back. There’s water dripping on his face, on his chest, but it might as well have been liquid nitrogen. It feels as if it pierces his skin and then it’s pouring over his body, the water rapidly submerging him until he’s struggling to keep his head over the surface. There’s something holding him down, but when he tries to free himself, the restraints only refasten over and over again. Miles is getting lightheaded from holding his breath, the panic almost consuming him until he’s once more reminded about your words.

This is Eywa’s way of communicating with the Na’vi. Through visions. He must find his path and he must follow it or forever be lost. Quaritch would not be lost. Hell, he had trudged through hostile territory more times than commonly sane, had found himself lost more times than he cared to remember. He had survived Pandora for decades without getting lost. Quaritch would find the path he was meant to follow, no matter what. So with his new resolve, Quaritch takes a deep breath, filling his burning lungs with much-needed air. The fact that it’s air and not water that fills his lungs, has him chuckling gleefully. Oh, Eywa be warned, he would come for her, and when he does, she would learn the hard way that you cannot part Colonel Miles S. Quaritch from what he desires.

Getting on all four, Quaritch growls menacingly. His entire body is on fire and when he opens his eyes, there’s nothing but psychedelic colors swiveling around him, figures he recognizes as Na’vi, stand around him, staring - talking to him - but he can’t understand what they’re saying. Their voices sound garbled and far away. Logically he knows that Miles had agreed to this, to become one of the people, but come hell and high waters, Quaritch would rather die again than join this bunch of thee-hugging smurfs. Forcing one of his legs under him, Quaritch demands his body to listen to him, to stand tall among the natives.

“Woman,” Quaritch growls, waiting for the mama dragon to step forward with her dragonling.

He is not disappointed when moments later, the shape of the woman that has occupied their mind for the past eternity steps forward, their cub behind her. She’s talking to him, her voice soothing the intense fire that’s burning from within him, but Quaritch can’t understand what she’s saying. Everything is wrong and the only thing that can make it right again seems to be the mama in front of him. On unsteady legs, Quaritch steps forward, grabbing harshly onto the woman’s wrist, pulling her even harsher against his chest. The moment her scent fills his nostrils, it soothes whatever was happening to him.

Wrapping his arms around her, he buries his face in the crook of her neck, breathing her in as if she was air to a drowning man. With each breath, the rage inside of him seems to lessen, calming down enough to dampen the control he had over his body. With an ungraceful huff, he can feel his legs giving out, so instead, he hurries to sit down, taking the mama dragon with him. There’s something insanely pleasing when she wraps her arms around him and settles in. The cub steps forward and without thinking, Quaritch grabs his wrist and pulls him in to sit on their laps. This wasn’t his plan, this wasn’t what he had set out to do, but maybe Miles had gotten something right after all. As the poison in his system takes hold over his body once more, Quaritch is helpless but to hold onto his family as -

Family. Quaritch had never had one of those. Sure, he’d had the units through the years, but nothing like this. These two were his people. His alone. The mama had shown them kindness when in all honesty, they had deserved none. Quaritch takes. It’s what he’s always done and when Miles was awoken, that’s what he had done too. Only to have his entire life turn upside down. At first, Quaritch hadn’t understood at all. No tail was more important than the mission and yet…

There’s a pleased feeling bubbling from within him and it annoys Quaritch to no end that this other him, the lesser him, had found this when he could not. Fifty-one years alive and the only thing he took from that was abandonment issues. Yet, this blue monkey hasn’t been alive for more than a year, and he’s already found a woman and Quaritch’s son. It wasn’t fair, but then again, nothing in life ever was.

Taking a deep breath, Quaritch tries his best to get himself under control again. The mama had said to follow the vision, but there was no damn vision. Not that he could see anyway. Growling, Quaritch’s patience wears thin when suddenly a voice breaks through the fog. It’s not one he recognizes, not female, not from a child. It’s only when the mama’s voice joins in that he recognizes it as his own. He’s singing, but Quaritch knows damn well that it isn’t his doing. He doesn’t know any Na’vi songs, but Miles does. He knows the one the mama sings to his son. Miles mumbles the song, clinging to it as if his life depends on it, clinging to the mama. Quaritch can hear his voice call her name and as pathetic as it is, it actually calms him down when she responds, her smaller frame settling firmly within his lap, leaning on him.

So distraught is he, that he almost misses the panther in the corner of the room. Its colors are wrong, but Quaritch knows that nasty bitch better than he knows the Na’vi. Hell, he had barely survived his first meeting with one. She prowls on the outside of the circle, but Quaritch isn’t taking his eyes off of it. He has a family to protect now and somehow, that gives him the strength he needs to stand tall and face the animal. But the animal doesn’t attack, doesn’t flash her razor-sharp teeth against him, or pounce with her dagger-sharp nails swinging at his head. Instead, she turns to leave, walking out of the cave.

“It is important that you follow it…” The mama dragon’s voice calls in his mind as if she was saying the words right then, but she’s still singing with Miles, so Quaritch has to see this shit through.

Walking after the panther, Quaritch emerges from the cave they had first entered only to be met with the quiet of dawn. It had been midday when they had entered and he knew for a fact that they had been no more than a few hours at the cave. This wasn’t right, but he figured that if this was a vision, then nothing would be as he remembered it. And sure enough, when the panther stops just before the sea, Quaritch knows that this is the hallucination that the mama was talking about. The village is quiet as the sun rises in the distance, not even the fishermen had awoken to start their day yet.

There’s a sound in the distance, one that is uncannily familiar to his ears. The rhythmic swishing of air from the rotor blades of a Samson, followed by the heavy hum of Valkyries. In the distance, against the sun, he can just barely make out the black shapes. Deep within his chest, a sense of relief at seeing the RDA settles, but soon enough, it shits to dread as a missile is fired, heading straight for the village before hitting hootch. The surrounding area is up in flames before he’s even able to take another breath. Once the first missile has been fired, there’s a never-ending series that follows its lead as the RDA approaches.

The flames surround what remains of the village by then, the screams of people, of children, filling the air with pain and sorrow. The panther nudges Quaritch’s side before walking off and reluctantly, Quaritch follows. Before he knows it, he’s in Bridgehead, staring down at the remains of Sully and what looks to be his youngest daughter. Behind him, Mrs. Sully wails and screams in her chains, thrashing wildly to go to her husband and child. The new recom soldiers only force her down to her knees as the lead recom turns around to face him.

“Colonel,” Ardmore’s voice greets him, and for just a second, Quaritch’s breath hitches. “Good work. For a moment there, we almost thought you pulled a Sully on us, but your word is as solid as unobtanium,”

“Of course, General,” He recognizes his voice responding, but he’s certain that he hasn’t opened his mouth.

“Too bad about your woman and kid, she would have made a valuable asset,” Ardmore continues, but Quaritch doesn’t follow the conversation.

The panther moves again and when he follows, he’s taken back to the burning village. He’s standing before a Na’vi woman on the ground, her features twisted in blurriness as she gurgles blood, her lungs collapsing as she drowns on dry land. She’s clutching onto an impossibly small boy laying on top of her. It’s obvious by the way he’s trying to cover her that the child tries to protect her, the weeping bullet wounds on his back tell Quaritch all he had to know. Tears roll down the woman’s face, mixing with the splattered blood from her coughing, but it’s not before her eyes meet his that the blurriness dissipates and the tears that had obstructed his vision falls down his own cheeks.

With a heavy thud, he falls to his knees beside the mama dragon and their cub, hands hovering shakily over Spider’s body before he manages to touch his son’s skin. It’s slick with blood and cooling, his ribcage unmoving as he has long since stopped breathing. The mama is clutching onto him when Quaritch tries to move him from her body, only resulting in the blood still left in her body, to seep furiously from her own bullet wounds. They’re littered from her thigh, up her curved abdomen, and across her stomach and chest as if the assailant had been trying to make a dirtbike map on her body.

“Y/n…” Quaritch whispers, but the mama’s name breaks in his throat.

She’s trying to tell him something, but he can’t understand anything she says, the words dying long before they even enter her bloody throat. Her eyes desperately search for his, her hand reaching out for him, but all Quaritch can do is hover his own hands above her body as tears fall from his eyes. Too late, he meets her eyes. The mama’s breath hitches and before Quaritch knows it, she too is forever gone, leaving him behind to wallow in the agony of having lost the only people who ever mattered to him.

People. Huffing a humorless chuckle, Quaritch looks up into the skies. Damn Miles and his fucking nerve to fall in love with this woman, dragging him into this shit too, giving him a taste of the only thing he had secretly allowed himself to dream of. And now, they were gone forever, taken from him by his past. As much as Quaritch hated to admit it, Miles had been right. They were only pawns in a game of chess that the RDA played and once they had outlived their usefulness, once Sully was dealt with, they would be deactivated too. Reaching out for her hand, Quaritch is surprised to find something clutched within it. Opening it, his breath stops as a pair of bloody silver, human-sized dog tags lay in the palm of her hand. Taking the dog tags out of her hand, Quaritch lifts them to read their designation, his heart stopping in his chest when his own human face stares back at him. Closing his eyes, Quaritch locks his jaw as tears sting his eyes, making the world blurry once more.

Getting to his knees, Quaritch binds the dog tags into his loincloth before heading into the sea, leaving his family and the panther behind. If this was Eywa’s vision of the future, then he would throw hands at her and anyone else that would stand in his way. Stepping into the sea, he lets the water submerge him. Quaritch just continues to walk until eventually, he finds himself outside of Bridgehead City, the panther once more by his side. He would avenge his family if it was the last thing he did. Damn Ardmore. Damn Bridgehead. He would burn them to the ground if they stood in his way. As the gates of Bridgehead open, much like they had for the mama dragon, Quaritch walks into the lion's den once more.

Blinking, Miles eventually regains control of his body once more. He’s sitting in the same circle he remembers sitting down in, but in his lap, you and Spider sit, his own arms clutching onto them. Spider’s big brown eyes are staring up at him, a small smile slowly spreading on his lips as he gets up from his mother’s lap. Turning his head, Miles is met with the blindingly beautiful smile that was directed at him.

“You have passed the Great Mother’s trial,” You whisper, your voice a bit raspier than before.

“So what now?” Miles hums, unable to help himself from clutching your hip.

“Now, you are welcomed by the people,” Sully offers from the side where he stands with the old bat and his wife.

“Stand, my friend,” Tonowari starts as he steps forward, a big grin on his face.

Sully and Tonowari reach forward, putting their hands on his shoulders when Miles eventually gets up to his feet. Reluctantly Mrs. Sully lay her hand on his chest, over where her arrows had stricken him, killing him as a human, as she accepted him as one of the people. Surprise is written all over your face as you lay your hand above hers, whispering a quiet “Thank you,” before the rest of the people follow. In the end, Miles’ upper body is covered with the hands of the people, the ones unable to touch him, touching the person in front of them until they were all connected until they all touched him.

“You are now Omatikaya,” Sully announces, a smile of his own offered to him.

“You are now Metkayina, my friend,” Tonowari follows shortly after, his own grin firmly placed on his face. “Now, we feast to celebrate,”

As the hands on his body quickly leave, your hand still remains over his heart, unable to break the contact. You’re looking up at him with worry in your eyes, a question so clearly dancing behind them. But this was a joyous occasion, and before he gets to voice his own question, you are both pulled ahead, leaving the cave behind. What follows is just a series of celebrations Miles has never seen the likes of before.

There’s dance and music, lights and laughter, and amazing food. The hunt from earlier that day has been prepared, seasoned, and made into different dishes that make Miles’ mouth explode with each bite. Spider is staring at him with this weird smile on his lips, the boy just staring as his mother fusses over him to eat enough food. In the end, Spider runs off with his friends and you are nowhere to be seen. Miles doesn’t quite know how he ended up sitting around a bonfire with Sully and Tonowari, but the conversation is light and for once, Miles doesn’t mind the company.

“You know,” Sully stars, obviously already intoxicated, “Your first hunt went better than mine ever did,”

“Neytiri used to smack me, calling me a child and a skxawng almost daily until one day, I suddenly got it right,” The grin on Sully’s face is nauseating, but Miles guess there was something admirable to still be that deeply in love with your wife after fifteen years.

“Y/n did the same to us,” Miles starts, surprising not only himself with opening up, “She had so much patience with our bullshit. Hell, she managed to take a unit of salty, hardened Marines and break our set ways to become tree-huggers,”

There’s more than one head turning when Miles outright laughs at the fond memory. Sully looks as if he’s allowed something sour while Tonowari reminds him of a perplexed puppy. The big guy somehow always manages to turn a situation into something positive, so Miles guesses the puppy comparison isn’t that far off.

“You really like her, don’t you?” Jake eventually recovers enough to ask after Miles continued to share stories about you teaching the nit the Na’vi way.

“Let’s just say that I would go to war for her and leave it at that,” Miles grins, the reference going straight over Tonowari’s head, but it makes Jake huff a chuckle and shake his head.

Tonowari, of course, finds his own meaning in Miles’ words though.

“I hear you. Ronal has that same effect on me,” He says, grinning widely, so obviously still madly in love with his wife, “She snaps her fingers or bats her lashes at me and I’m helpless to deny her anything,”

That makes both Jake and Miles laugh, grinning widely as they look at each other. In reality, there was no stronger force in any universe but two people in love, Miles knew that. But to share his vulnerability like this, with these two men, one of which was his greatest enemy - was difficult. He had never been the kind to share himself, always holding his cards close to his chest. Quarich had done so his entire life, but the more Mile learned, the more tired he got about the prospect of guarding himself from others.

“I feel you, buddy,” Jake echoes, as they both turn to Miles with open shit-eating grins on their faces.

“Oh, hell no. I ain’t that pussy whipped,” Miles balks, but Jake and Tonowari just look at each other with knowing expressions before bursting out with laughter. “Well, I’ll be damned,”

Miles eventually sighs with the realization that he totally is and it makes the other men laugh even harder, Tonowari wheezing as he supports himself on Jake’s shoulder, his former Corporal wiping tears from his eyes. Their laughter eventually fades out though, leaving loose smiles on their faces and a good, safe space behind the bonfire. Some of the other men stood up to leave when their mates approached, bidding them goodnight and congratulating Miles on his success. Miles, however, was still stuck thinking about you and the realization that he totally was whipped.

“I don’t know how to be what they need,” Quaritch eventually hums, a rare moment of trust and vulnerability shining through.

“We’re jarheads, Quaritch, used to taking orders. Just follow hers and you’ll be fine,” Jake starts, slapping a hand on the back of Miles’ shoulder carefully as if to test to see if it would be tolerated or not.

“Breaking the code… it’s not easy, but heck, I somehow made it.” Huffind an affirmative, Miles just nods, deep in thought.

“If you want her, you need to prove to her every day of your life that you’re worthy enough to call yourself her mate,” Tonowari offers, leaning forward to pin him with a firm stare, “And should she bless you by having more children, you lay on the very ground she walks on to protect her tired feet.”

“I ain’t much of a family man, chief,” Quaritch straightens, facing Tonowari head-on.

“These things have a way of figuring themselves out, Quaritch. Hell, look at Spider. Even after all the shit you’ve done, he saved your sorry ass, so you must’ve done something right while you had him,” Groaning, Miles rolls his eyes. He would never back down from facing what he had done to these people, figuring the least he could do was stand through it.

“You are a strong and capable male. There are others among the people who would be interested in becoming your mate,” Tonowari offers, a knowing look in his eyes as he lays the truth bare.

“You have become Metkayina now, you stand free to choose a mate among the people,” The bare thought of choosing anyone other than you physically pained him though, something the others immediately noticed when his ears snapped back against his skull.

“Tell her how you feel, my friend. You might just be surprised,” Tonowari offers gently, watching as Miles’ eyes close while he rubs his hands over his face.

“She already knows,” Miles offers back, a sad smile on his face. “Has known for quite some time already,”

“You so sure about that, Colonel?” Jake offers and it’s the way he says it that makes hope latch onto something deep inside of him.

Nodding to Sully, Miles empties his cup, falling back into silence as the others continue to talk. As the night progresses, he finds himself searching for you among the people, his eyes sorting through each and every member of the clan until finally - finally - they land on your form. You’re sitting with Mrs. Sully, the two of them huddled close as you talk. As if on instinct, your head snaps up to meet his eyes and a small smile crosses your lips. Mrs. Sully bumps your shoulder, whispering something and then she leaves. Getting up on his feet, Miles is annoyed to feel the wobbliness in them as he approaches.

“Have you had anything to heat?” It’s a stupid question, he knows it is, but the way it makes your eyes light up, he can’t help his heart from beating a little faster in his chest.

“I have, thank you,” You smile up at him until he eventually sits down beside you.

“Where’s Spider?” Miles finds himself asking and it’s somehow awkward.

“He’s off with Lo’ak and some other boys, doing teenage stuff,” You huff with a roll of your eyes. It makes Miles huff a chuckle of his own.

“Is he safe with them?”

“He is,” You hum, turning your head to stare at him.

It makes him uncharacteristically nervous, his ears bending flat against his skull while his tail thrashes wildly behind him. Closing his eyes, Miles wills his embarrassment to pass, but when he opens his eyes again, he has no such luck. You are unyielding when it comes to his bullshit and for once, he’s actually comforted by that fact.

“You should tell him how you feel,” You offer kindly before getting up. “It has been a long day, I will bid my goodnight before returning to our kelku. You did well today and I’m very happy for you,”

Miles understands the words you’re saying, but there’s something off about it. Something off about the sound of your voice, something that makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand on alert. You sound almost detached as if you’re distancing yourself from him. The bare thought of it almost has him spiraling before he gets up to follow you around, bidding his own goodnight and thanks. When they eventually get back to the hootch, Miles doesn’t know what to do or say. He watches as you undress, watches as you curl into the bed, and yawn before closing your eyes. You look… sad? No matter what it is, it’s unacceptable. Undressing, Miles crawls into bed behind you, lifting the blankets until he’s slotted tightly against your body. Instinctively, you curl up against him, sighing deeply when his hand snakes around your waste to hold you tight.

“I’m proud of you,” You whisper when his head eventually rests against your shoulder, “But that paint is going to get everywhere by morning,”

“I will clean it,” Miles hums, feeling the huff you let out in response as you hold his hand close to your chest.

He’s barely awake by the time Spider gets back, his small, colder body wiggling over you as he finds his space in the bed. Miles is unable to hold back the smile on his face when Spider’s head rests in the palm of his hand, completely occupying the arm under his mother’s head. Rubbing his thumb against Spider’s forehead, Miles’ heart stops in his chest when Spider sleepily mumbles a “G’nite dad,”. In the morning, he would have to confront Y/n about what was going on and then, he needs to ask the old bat about the visions he saw and what truth they held. Maybe Sully could tell him about his own experience and how that unfolded.

“Sleep,” You mumble before clutching his hand tighter, curling more firmly against him while taking Spider with you, your son already long gone into la-la land.

“Alright,” Miles whispers back, intertwining their fingers against your chest.

He would have to get ahead of this if he wanted to have a fighting chance. The more he learned, the more he knew, the better he could prepare to keep his family safe. Tomorrow would bring about a change, unlike the days until then. As a member of the tribe, Miles now stood free to do whatever he wanted to do, no longer bound to repent. Though that wouldn’t stop him from doing what he could to make you happy. He had gone into this one hundred percent, knowing that if he did, he would have to do it on your terms by becoming a true Na’vi. And now that he was one of the people, your futures had once more opened for change. Only time would tell now…

Chapter 20 | Masterpost | Chapter 22 - Coming soon

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scarabsinthestardust · 2 months ago

Text

Tender // Ch. 4

MASTERLIST

word count: 2200+

CHAPTER WARNINGS: language; mentions of drinking/alcoholism; arguing/one-sided arguments; depression; anxiety; unspecified undiagnosed mental illness; tiny little spoiler for Better in the Morning, but nothing that will be a shock to readers that are caught up on it

The trouble with things going smoothly is that one tends to get complacent. They get comfortable and let their guard down. They make mistakes and people suffer for it, mostly the ones they never wanted to hurt in the first place.

Josh and I have been going strong for the last six months. We’ve not so much as bickered since the first argument. He’s somehow convinced me, on some uncertain level, that maybe I do deserve this happiness. The fear is still there, of course, but Josh has found a way to quell it, and suddenly I don’t feel like I’m drowning. He’s my spark, my ever-burning flame, and I think maybe I might be able to keep it from going out.

I never wanted kids, and that hasn’t changed, but watching Josh light up around them only increases my love for him. It’s no different with his new niece. He’s been fawning over Kya and Jake’s baby nonstop since she was born and has made it his life’s mission to ensure he’s the ‘favorite uncle.’ He talks about her constantly, and I’m surprisingly not put off by his incessant chattering these days. But I suppose all good things must come to an end.

We’re in his kitchen, cleaning up after dinner. Although I still have my own place, I find myself spending most of my time at his house. He’s talking a million miles a minute about his day, and his most recent visit to Kya’s. He tells me practically everything the baby did, which isn’t much considering she’s, well, a baby, but Josh is excited, so I let him have his moment. Then he says something that makes my heart stop.

“Jake said they’re probably gonna go to West Virginia soon to visit… uh, whoever you guys know up there. I thought maybe we could tag along, make it a whole family trip.”

“No. I’m not going to West Virginia.” Bile is rising in my throat at the thought, and I’m infuriated he would even suggest it.

He reaches out to touch my arm. “I mean, I’d be there with you the whole time. I think it’d be-“

“I said no.”

“I want to see where you grew up, and whatever happened out there, we can-“

The last remaining calm in me dissipates, and I snatch my arm from him, slamming my fist on the marble countertop so hard it shoots pain up to my elbow. “Drop it!”

He blinks at me in shock, and I pretend I don’t notice the way he flinches. I’ve never raised my voice like this toward him, but now the dam has broken, and I can’t stop. “Why can’t you ever just fucking leave shit alone?”

“Finn…” His voice is so small and soft that I almost feel bad. Almost.

“Stop. Fucking. Talking. For once in your life shut the fuck up. I don’t understand why you always have to keep pushing and pushing for shit you know nothing about! Maybe no one’s ever told you no, you’re so used to getting everything you want, but it doesn’t fucking work like that. And you don’t even understand one piece of what you’re prying for. So, stop acting like a spoiled fucking brat, and quit digging!”

I know he doesn’t deserve any of what I said, but the damage is already done. His eyes are filling with tears, and he takes a step away from me. His jaw tenses and he nods, refusing to look me in the eyes. “Fine. Okay.” He doesn’t argue, the first indication that I’ve truly hurt him, only turns away and disappears down the hallway.

My heart’s racing, my skin feels like it’s on fire, and I’m squeezing my fist so tightly my nails are digging into my palm. The house is too small; the walls might be closing in on me. I don’t hear anything, and Josh doesn’t come back out. I should go apologize, but it seems like such a daunting task that will only result in more confrontation, and will inevitably lead me to hurt him more. That’s the last thing I want to do, so I grab my keys, slam the door on the way out, get in my car, and drive.

I don’t have a destination, I just need to get away. It’s already dark; the bright oncoming headlights in the opposite lane make my eyes water. Or is it the guilt and anxiety? I very much wish I could go back and do things differently. Maybe it’s not too late to salvage my relationship with him, but I can’t return to him like this, when my mind is still mottled with rage. I don’t trust what I might do. Instead, I’ll do what I do best – run.

JOSHUA

When Josh told his twin he was coming over, Jake wasn’t expecting to find him with bloodshot eyes and splotchy, tear-stained cheeks. “Shit, what’s wrong?” Jake ushered him inside and directed his attention to Josh, concern painting his features.

“Finn and I got into a fight. And he didn’t come home. It’s been 24 hours. His phone’s going straight to voicemail. I checked his place, and I don’t think he’s been there either. What if something happened to him? What if-“

“Josh, calm down. I’m sure he’s fine.” Jake coaxed his brother to sit down on the couch. He gently reminded Josh to keep his voice down, so he doesn’t wake the baby. “Did he say anything before he left?”

“No. No, we argued… he was so pissed off so I tried to give him some space and he just left.” Josh didn’t want to elaborate on the details; he knew how Jake would react to Finn being the primary aggressor, and he didn’t want to make his boyfriend out to be the bad guy. He blamed himself for it anyways. “I don’t know what to do. I’m worried about him. And I checked the weather, there’s another storm coming through. What if he gets stuck out in it somewhere?”

Jake shook his head. “What are you talking about? He’s not a fucking dog, Josh. It’s just rain. He’ll figure it out.”

“No, he’s right to be worried.” Kya’s voice came from behind them; they didn’t hear her come around the corner until she spoke. “He’s always been terrified of storms. I don’t know why. He used to hide in the closet when we were kids, until it passed. But that also means he watches the weather like a hawk. I’m sure he’s found somewhere safe to hunker down until it passes.”

“Is this normal for him, to just disappear?” Josh’s eyes pleaded with her for some kind of reassurance.

Kya shrugged sadly. “He’s always been a little ghost-y, I guess. But I didn’t think he would just drop off without telling you. What… was it that bad of a fight?”

Josh swallowed as he fought back tears. “It… no, it was stupid. And I’m the one that upset him. I started it.”

Kya watched him carefully; there was something he wasn’t telling them. But she didn’t call him out on it. She figured if it was something serious, he would have said something. “He’ll come around,” she said. “He doesn’t handle confrontation well. I’m sure he just needs some time to cool off and clear his head. He’ll come back.” She didn’t let on that she was suddenly doubting her own words.

When Josh eventually returned home, dejected and depressed, he curled up on the couch under a soft throw blanket. He held his phone close and made sure the volume was turned up in case Finn did call him back. He wanted to stay up, wanted to wait just a little longer, but exhaustion won out and he soon drifted to sleep.

It’s barely dawn by the time I make it back to Josh’s house. His car is here. He’s probably asleep, which makes me falter. I don’t want to wake him up, but I know the longer I stay away, the harder it will be. I’ve rehearsed a hundred different conversations in my head, like memorizing a script that will change based on how Josh responds to each line. I’m honestly quite terrified. I considered just staying gone, but I know Josh well enough to know that kind of uncertainty would only hurt him more. If I’ve lost him, at least we’ll both know it.

I ring the doorbell. I know where he keeps the spare key, but I don’t feel like I’ve earned the right to use it. I don’t realize I’m holding my breath as I wait for a response. I’m surprised at how quickly he comes to the door, and I’m even more shocked when he throws his arms around me so hard I almost stumble backwards.

“Where the hell have you been? I was so worried about you. I thought… I thought something happened to you.”

He was worried? About me? I coax him inside so I can shut the door. I’m not keen on providing intel on our private lives to the neighbors. He sniffs and rubs his eyes with the back of his hand. When I finally get a good look at his face, my chest aches. He hasn’t slept; he looks exhausted. I know he’s been crying, and I hate that it’s my fault.

He allows me to lead him to the couch, but instead of sitting with him, I kneel on the floor in front of him. “I’m so sorry.” It seems like a good place to start. “I’m sorry for how I treated you. You didn’t deserve that, Josh. I lost my cool, that’s all on me. And… I understand if you want me to leave, if you don’t want this anymore.”

“Where did you go?” he asks quietly.

“Uh, Wichita.”

“Kansas? What the hell is in Kansas? Or… who?”

I’m mildly taken aback at the implication, but if the roles were reversed, I’d be thinking the same thing. “I promise you, it’s nothing like that. I didn’t plan to go to Wichita, I just ended up there. I…” I hesitate to tell him the whole truth. Hiding it is easier, and he may not ever forgive me. But maybe he’ll pity me instead, and that’s almost worse. “I messed up, though.” I pull my AA chip from my pocket and place it in his hand, careful to avoid his eyes. “I’m sorry. I know you’re probably disappointed in me. I found a meeting before I came back, but if you don’t want-“

“I don’t want you to leave.” He looks at the chip in his palm before holding it back out to me. “This doesn’t define you, Finn. You’re allowed to make mistakes.”

Mistakes get people killed. “You deserve better,” I admit. I’m giving him an out, an escape route, and the small piece of me that is still decent wants him to take it. I slip the chip back into my pocket, although it feels dirty now, contaminated somehow.

He’s staring down at the carpet, and I can see the wheels turning. “You weren’t drunk, though.”

“I got drunk. I went to a bar, and-“

“No, I mean before you left. You weren’t drunk when you screamed at me.”

“No,” I whisper. “I… I can’t go back there, Josh. You trying to convince me to, it… it triggered something in me, I guess. I can’t stand feeling like I don’t have a choice.”

“I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“I know you didn’t. I’m working on it, though. And I know it’s a lot to ask, but I promise if you give me another chance, I’ll do better. It won’t happen again.”

He stays quiet for a moment, sniffling as he considers my words. I’m still not confident that he’ll forgive me, and I brace myself for the worst. But instead, he leans forward, resting his arms on my shoulders and pulling me to him. “I’m sorry. Just please don’t leave. Let me help you,” he practically begs.

I give into his pleas, and we stay like this until he asks me to come to bed with him. “Will you just lay with me?” I hold him then, neither of us saying a word. His fingers absentmindedly trace my skin, just under the hem of my shirt. They trail along the small scar just above my right hip and I tense up involuntarily. The little patch of marred flesh is just a reminder, another in a long line of stories I will never tell him. He’s learned to quit asking about it, now.

I don’t think I really sleep. Josh eventually drifts off and I’m left alone. I don’t want to admit it, but my gut is telling me this is wrong. Something in me is screaming to get away from here, from him. Except it’s not because I’m in any kind of danger. It’s because I know he is. No matter how many promises I make, how many times he forgives me for the things I’ve done, or how much he pleads for me to stay with him, I will inevitably hurt him over and over again. There is no doubt in my mind that everything he’s tried to build in himself, I will bring it all crashing to the ground. I do love him, more than I’ve loved anyone this way. Some say if you love something, you need to let it go. But my love for him, and my own selfishness, is why I know I never will. I’ll hold onto him for as long as I can, even if all I do is drag him down with me to the pits of wherever the hell I end up.

///

@hollyco @fleetingjake @musicislove3389 @hailthegodsong @josh-iamyour-mama @katuschka

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lunarsands · 30 days ago

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ESMP Fanfic: A Garden’s Path - Ch 4

In this chapter:

Characters: MythicalSausage, TangoTek, JimmySolidarity, ScottSmajor, Sir Carlos, Shrub, KatherineElizabeth, and introducing: The Children of Mythland

Relationships: MythicalSausage/Scott Smajor, TangoTek & SolidarityGaming, Shrub/Katherine Elizabeth

Tags: PTSD, adoption, fluff, wholesome

Chapter Summary: Sausage’s untimely dealings with a stray Warden interfere in spending time with Liana. She takes it in stride – there’s always time for more tea parties, right? However, something else haunts him… But Liana doesn’t believe in ghosts, after all! Who else would be better to help him move on from those whispers of the past?

(Also available on Ao3!)

[ Prologue ] [ Chapter One ] [ Chapter Two ] [ Chapter Three ]

---

Chapter Four – The Parties and The First Dreams

Sausage shivered as he brought up the rear behind Jimmy, the stray Warden ahead of them and Tango at the front luring it along the tunnel with the sound of pops and sizzles from his fiery hair. With the need to keep the Warden moving as top priority Sausage hadn’t reattached his prosthetic yet, keeping it tucked through his belt on his right side for the moment. The lack of lava pockets in the area paired with the surrounding stone made the cold seep into his bones; within a few more minutes the chill began to draw out an ache in his stump. He reached over to rub at it but a sniffing noise from the Warden made him go stock still.

Jimmy noticed this from the corner of his eye – and he halted, too. He gave Sausage a single nod in acknowledgement. Only when the Warden uttered a dismissive grunt did the two allow themselves to breathe and continue forward. However, Sausage didn’t truly relax until the Deep Dark appeared ahead of them. He kept an ear out but there wasn’t even so much as a single squelch of Tango’s feet on the sculk due to the careful way the Blaze hybrid carefully tread on it. As soon as the Warden fully crossed over the deepslate bordering the sculk it dug downwards to return from whence it came.

A tense minute passed as Tango and Jimmy searched around the immediate area, but after signaling to each other that there were no shriekers in the vicinity, they ran at each other and whiffed a high-five – on purpose, which had become their custom congratulatory ritual to avoid injuring each other by mix of fire and water.

Sausage let out a sign of relief before turning to head out. He nearly jumped out of his skin a second later when a boom of thunder crashed through the tunnels. “Ohmygod! That shouldn’t travel like that all the way down here!!” He clutched at his chest in genuine distress.

Jimmy assumed the man was being overdramatic as usual. “Gee, Sausage, just be glad that doesn’t rile up Wardens, or Mythland would be overrun with ‘em!” He clapped Sausage on the back in a patronizing manner. “You’ve looked nervous this whole time, by the way. Has settling down made you lose your touch or something?”

A jumble of responses bounced around Sausage’s mind, then he made a point to grasp the end of his right arm and blurt out, “Yeah. This touch, Jimmy!” He twisted his face into an infuriated glare.

He was, however, only pinching his lips together to hold back a guffaw at his own joke, but the expression served to make the Codfather think he had severely offended the Mythlandian.

Jimmy hastily stepped back, reacting as expected. “Sorry, man. I – uh – kinda forgot about that for a second. You – You haven’t let it slow you down, y’know? F-From what I’ve seen you’re still good ol’ King Sausage, mighty ruler of Mythland!”

Tango popped up beside him to rescue Jimmy from his unintentional fumble, as well as to get them walking. “Speaking of, have the caves and sculk pockets and possible Ancient City under your kingdom been fully mapped out?”

“Uhh…” Sausage coughed to hold back his initial response of, ‘I already explored the whole thing in another world so why would I do it again?’ and instead said, “Well, there are some old maps that a previous ruler of Mythland drew, but obviously sculk spreads over time so they might be a little outdated and not one hundred percent accurate anymore – which, you know, actually might be why a Warden emerged here when no sightings had been reported before. Obviously I’ve been focused on my family lately, so updating musty old maps hasn’t been at the top of my list, and I’m not about to take the kids on an adventure this early in their lives, oh no!”

Tango cackled. “Relax, your highly-est-ness. What I’m saying is that we could do the mapping for you! Navigating the Deep Dark is like second nature to me, and my codly friend here has – obviously – been learning from the best!”

Following Tango’s lead Jimmy chimed in, “And – And you can look at it this way: we can make it safer for your kids by finding all the dangerous spots and blocking them off! Then you guys can have a family adventure without worry!”

Sausage spun around so he could regard both of them. He noted their eager smiles. “Are you guys just looking for an excuse to explore Deep Darks that you haven’t been in yet?”

“Yes,” Jimmy and Tango chorused in sweet tones.

Sausage turned to resume walking, surreptitiously slipping his prosthetic free and holding it by the forearm section with his left hand. He then tilted his head up and clasped his chin – with his prosthetic hand, controlling it remotely. “Hmm. Hmmm,” he uttered with drawn-out, thoughtful inflection. “Hmm…”

He heard eager and anxious squeaks from behind him. He grinned; at least their antics had helped to calm his nerves. “Hmm. Well…”

“Well?” Tango echoed.

“Yeah?” Jimmy asked.

Smoothly switching to walking backward, Sausage pivoted to face them again so he could show the comical position of his arms. Then he pointed his prosthetic at them – while pointing one prosthetic finger at them, as well. A brief giggle escaped him as he was amused by his own absurdity. He needed to remember to try this one on the kids. “You do seem qualified for the job, so I’ll let you do it! But I want you to start at the borders and work your way inward. Small villages and settlements need to be protected, too! I have enough guards and soldiers in the capital to protect the castle and close-by towns.”

By this time Tango was cracking up at the sight of the prosthetic hand waggling around, but pulled himself together a second later to respond, “Sure, sure, solid plan. We’ll get on it just as soon… as…” His voice trailed off as they reached an elevation high enough to hear the rain that had ended up accompanying the thunder from earlier. Tango emitted an irritated noise.

Sausage lowered his arms and looked at Tango questioningly. “What is it? Do you have other plans? You don’t have to do it right away. Mythland is huge! This is probably something that could take years, considering how out of date some of those maps are! And you’ve both got your own responsibilities I’m sure, and—”

Jimmy interrupted. “It’s not that, Sausage. Listen.”

Sausage stopped rambling and did as told, angling his head as if his left ear might be better at picking up on what had made Tango abruptly turn surly.

“Rain,” Jimmy said. “Tango hates the rain. It’s not exactly something he experienced in the Burning Dark.”

As if to emphasize the point, Tango let out an irritated growl before muttering, “Stupid water that stupidly falls from the entire stupid sky, rrr-gak!”

Sausage was puzzled, then he noticed the increasing amount of smoke coming off of the staves that encircled Tango’s head. An unintentional laugh burst out of him. “Oh, I see! Because of the whole Blaze thing! Wait, but wouldn’t it just evaporate when it lands on you?”

“Yeah,” Tango squawked, “If it’s a light drizzle! But it rarely drizzles! It’s always like that dumb sky of yours sees me and goes ‘Well, time to dump buckets full of rain on this guy in particular! Hoo-hoo, let’s show the Blaze man what the surface world is all about!”

Jimmy uttered an awkward sound. “Um, sorry, Tango. I kinda like the rain…”

Tango flailed his hands at the Codfather. “That’s because your fish brain thinks the droplets hitting the water are bugs! Fish food instincts! You fishy-fish… fishman!”

Jimmy now laughed softly at his friend’s incoherent rage. “Gee, Tango, maybe you should step out into the rain for a little bit to cool off!”

Tango’s rage subsided into annoyed muttering for the rest of the walk up to the tunnel that exited out into the larger cave where they had started. Sure enough, the view of the world outside featured a sky full of clouds and pouring rain. Tango risked a closer look, then meeped in distress and jumped backward as wind blew some raindrops onto him.

There was a flash of lightning that was immediately followed by thunder. The main storm was directly over them. Sausage took a peek outside for himself. “Hm. Those are some heavy, dark clouds. Looks like it will be storming for a while.”

Tango made yet another annoyed sound then meandered further away to the back of the cave to sit up on a ledge. Jimmy stayed near the cave entrance and even made himself comfortable in a puddle that had begun to form in a lower-lying spot. “Might as well get comfy, then. If you both want, I can go to the village to get food before it gets too dark and we can camp here until it’s over. We probably should have planned for that, but you were in a big hurry, Sausage. You can’t really rush a Warden wrangling session, my friend.”

“What do you mean, get food?” Sausage asked.

“Well, we were too busy to be hungry,” Jimmy replied, “But if the storm keeps up for that long, then we’ll want dinner at some point, right?”

“What?? But we should have plenty—oh, no.” Sausage’s expression became mortified, then he began to look panicked, patting around his body like he was searching for something.

“What is it, Sausage? Wha—”

“I said I’d be home for lunch, Jimmy!! It’s going to be past dinnertime if I wait for the storm to stop! My little princess is missing her first full day with her new papa!!”

“Sausage, you—”

The Mythlandian whimpered indecisively. He took his prosthetic from his belt and looked from it to the cuff-covered end of his stump, wondering if it was worth the time it would take to get it reattached, or just leave immediately. Jimmy was about to volunteer Tango to help with it, since Tango had redstone knowledge, and it might distract the Blaze hybrid from his misery, but Sausage then shoved the prosthetic down the front of his shirt and rushed out into the rain without another word.

Jimmy blinked but made no attempt to go after him. Tango made a point to scrape his boots on the stone as he drew his legs up. “So, umm, hey. What’s this ‘princess’ thing, now?”

~*~

As soon as the rain had started Scott ushered the children in from the garden where they had been playing after their shopping trip and subsequent delayed lunch when Sausage hadn’t returned on time. There had been a brief protest from Liana, who was accustomed to mainly snow as precipitation and wanted to experience Mythland’s version. He had warned her that lower elevation storms could come with other dangers.

A lightning bolt that struck the weathervane on the tallest tower accompanied by a bone-rattling crash of thunder sufficed to send her wailing after her brothers, who had retreated to the dining room to decide on an indoor activity to pass the time. After checking on her Scott settled into his seat when the boys chose to do some individual reading; he offered to read a book with Liana but she fidgeted, then said she wanted to be brave and watch the storm.

She picked a window just outside the dining room – good for staying in Dad’s line of sight, at least – and cautiously looked outside. At first she peeked up over the windowsill, then she stood up to observe, and finally she dragged a chair over to sit. She was soon swinging her legs and leaning her upper body from side to side to match the motion while occasionally saying, “Ooh!” after a particularly bright flash of lightning.

Scott was glad she had so easily found a way to keep occupied and remain in one spot, since he soon found himself tending to reports that came in regarding a few rivers that had a history of overflowing in torrential rains. For the moment all was in hand, so he sent responses recommending to place a watch on standby and let him know when noted locations looked like they would become a risk. In the event of a breach, he could fly to the location and build up ice dams to prevent anything worse happening.

He explained this to the boys before he sent off the last responses, offering to train Elowen in flood mitigation procedures when the budding ice mage felt he was ready. He also gently requested for them to watch over Liana if he did have to leave, because Sir Carlos and Bubbles might also have to go out to assist citizens. He reassured them that the storm was unlikely to reach drastic proportions, but he wanted them to be prepared for his absence just in case. Obviously there would be plenty of guards and castle staff to help them with anything in these instances.

As expected, Azahar took on an air of assuming responsibility for his younger siblings. Elowen declined the lesson for the moment, and the two went over to join Liana. They patiently listened to her excitedly list how many lightning bolts she had counted in the sky compared to how many looked like they had struck the ground somewhere.

Scott had hoped a message from Sausage would arrive along with the reports, yet as time ticked by neither word of him or a message from him came in. Scott knew Liana would be disappointed, but it seemed like Sausage’d had the sense to take shelter to wait out the storm until it was safer to fly.

He was set on this belief up until Liana called out, “Daddy! There’s a giant bird flying this way!”

Scott looked away from the latest missive that had just been delivered, puzzled by how she could have seen such a thing from that window’s particular angle – then he saw that she was out of the chair and crouched down, her cheek against the windowsill and her head fully sideways to view what was apparently just enough of a sliver of the sky. He signed off on the scroll and let the attendant take it from the table themself while he went over to attempt a look.

Liana moved aside and pointed. Scott ducked down, trying to catch a glimpse of what she had seen, but he was too tall to find that same angle. He gave up and went to the doors of the garden. Maybe it was only a bird. On the other hand, birds usually find a place to roost during storms. He knew his husband wasn’t always as wise.

What Scott saw was definitely not a bird, but at least was someone in a reassuringly slow, planned downward glide. The danger of lightning still concerned him, though, so he lowered the temperature about half a meter from the ground to transform the rain into padded snow. He added an extra layer of snow for good measure – the softer the landing, the better.

He heard Liana’s delighted cry from the doorway; of course, the children would be drawn by his actions. “You said you did magic, but I didn’t know you could change a whole storm!”

“Not the whole thing,” Scott explained distractedly. “Just a small area right now.”

Liana merely giggled and began scooping up the snow that had fallen closest to the doors. “It feels like real snow!”

“It is real – Liana, I’m sorry, but now is not the time to play. I’ll make snow for you when it’s safer, okay? Please go inside.”

“Okay, Daddy. Make sure you catch Papa!”

“What—” He had been so intent on ensuring the snow would be deep enough that he hadn’t been paying attention to an exact trajectory of where Sausage might land.

His husband’s voice faded in to an audible range. “Innncominggg!!”

Scott looked skyward just in time to see Sausage lop-sidedly gliding directly at him. By reflex he did as Liana suggested and spread his arms; he caught Sausage, all right, and both of them tumbled through the snow for his trouble. Sausage grinned awkwardly down at Scott when they came to a halt, the elf ending up the one with his backside in the snow. “Nice catch, my dearest.”

Scott playfully shoved him off. “I love you, but it was dumb of you to fly in this.” He then noted how careful Sausage was about getting back to his feet, which is what made him realize there was a lack of prosthetic arm. He frowned. “What happened to your arm now?”

“Oh, heh, it’s fine! Mostly. Um. I didn’t have time to put it back on because I was in a hurry to get home. Do you know how easy it is to lose track of time when you’re purposely trying to find the Deep Dark? I figured it was better to just carry it home so you could help instead of leaving it up to slippery-fingered Jimmy, or lose even more time with Tango asking about every single little redstone detail that even I can’t explain—”

“I’m pretty sure you could have trusted either one of them, Sausage – even if it did take longer! They’re not the worst people to wait out a storm with, and maybe you should know more about all those little details. Anyway, where is your arm? You’re not carrying anything in your hand!” Scott began to look around the little furrow they had left in the snow. “Did you drop it? I’ll melt this so we can find it easier, hold on.”

“Oh, oops, uhh…” Sausage patted at himself.

Before he could play at theatrics again, however, Liana yelled from the doorway, “Papa, did you lose your metal arm? Don’t worry, I bet Daddy can make you one out of snow! Like he made all this snow!”

Sausage let out a forced hearty laugh, aware of how Scott’s shoulders went stiff. “He could maybe, but it would melt any time I ate soup! Fear not, though! I have it right here!” He reached under the collar of his shirt and pulled out his prosthetic – only to utter a long, “Uhhh…” upon seeing that the thinner struts around the inner basket had been warped by the collision and subsequent roll with Scott. “Ah. Heh. Hm. I, um, didn’t think that part of it was so… crushable.”

Scott eyed the damage and grumbled, “That’s because it’s meant to be held in shape by the rest of your arm.”

Elowen’s face appeared at the doorway next, seeming concerned by this news, but Sausage calmly said, “Oh, well. At least it didn’t get smashed by a Warden or anything like that. I’ll put on a spare and see if I can bend it back into shape by myself. If not, um, I’ll just send a little message to fWhip when the rain is over.”

“He’ll be happy to hear from you,” Scott said wryly. He then pushed Sausage toward the doorway. “Now let’s get you inside and dry you off. You’re soaked and you are very late for lunch. If you’re lucky, we can fit in an afternoon tea before dinner.”

Liana and Elowen giggled at the sight of their papa being scolded. Everyone headed upstairs since Scott was now also soaked from the rain – and Liana had managed to sneak snow into her skirt pockets which, of course, promptly began to melt.

~*~

Scott lightly scrubbed Sausage’s hair with a towel then moved to dry his bare shoulders as Sausage sat on a sturdy footstool, dressed in a fresh pair of trousers and house slippers. He was inspecting the four spare prosthetics laid out on a cloth-covered table at the side of the room, away from the window where rain water might get on them. fWhip currently had two other previous models that he was tinkering with, intending to improve them so there would be proper spares, but for now the choices were limited to the non-so-perfect versions.

The very first model was there for sentimental value, at this point mostly good for use as a paper weight and probably should have been stored in the treasury. There was one with sketchy redstone connections, and one with very sketchy redstone connections. Then there was the fully plated one with minimal moving parts for diplomatic emergencies if his regular prosthetic failed right before he needed to deal with foreign dignitaries – or very particular Mythland nobles.

At the moment Sausage was trying to remember which of the middle two had the most-sketchy redstone. They looked very similar and he hadn’t thought to mark them – or flat-out return them to fWhip to repair or scrap. The answer was obvious to him: try them on and find out.

He picked up one and tried to make himself memorize the slight dent on top of the forearm casing. As Scott went to pick out a shirt for him, Sausage slipped the upper part over his stump. He felt a zap as it made contact with his skin. “Ow. Heheh, that kind of tickled.” He tested the finger movement and found it stiff. “Hmm. Not as flexible as I remember.” He slipped it off and placed it on the opposite side of the fully plated one to distinguish the two.

Then he picked up the other dubious one and eased the slightly patina-coated copper basket into place. “Ow! Well, that was more than a tickle.” He eased it away in case he had merely pressed it on too tightly, then tried it again. “Ow. Nope, definitely not this one.”

Scott shook his head in amused exasperation as he returned with a gold-embroidered, violet shirt that had no sleeve on the right side, ideal for accommodating older versions of the prosthetic. “Dear, I’ve encouraged you not to do things like that.”

Sausage laughed. “Okay okay okay! I was only kidding around!” He cleared his throat as he lowered the definitely-malfunctioning prosthetic onto the table, now putting it on the far side of the prototype. “But, honestly, the choices aren’t great. I’m going to have to insist fWhip finish those other backups.”

“You could also be more careful with the one you have. You should have just taken the few minutes to ask for help to put it back on. …Come to think of it, why did you remove it in the first place?”

“Well, you know I can control it remotely, and so why risk ourselves when risking my arm is only a minor inconvenience compared to, say, one of us being smashed to pieces by a Warden?”

“WHY were you using your arm as Warden bait in the first place?!”

“It – It – listen, listen listen. It seemed like a good idea at the time! We improvised a noise machine, and—”

“Nope. Stop right there,” Scott commanded. He had caught sight of motion by the door. Azahar was signaling him. Scott nodded. The boy grinned and disappeared from view. Scott draped the shirt over Sausage’s shoulders before sweeping around to the other side of the table. “I’m going to have strong words with those two next time I see them, but for now—” He picked up the fully plated prosthetic. “Just go with this one. The elbow bends, you can hold it out well enough, and you don’t need it to eat. You can still have a nice meal with our new daughter without a fully functional arm.”

“Fine, fine.” Sausage sighed in mock-resignation, slouching down. “It’s not like I wanted to run around to play in the garden and carry her on my shoulders or anythi—”

Scott gestured emphatically toward the window. “Sausage! It’s still pouring rain!”

“I know, I just—”

“Shush already and finish getting dressed. You can always read stories by the fireplace,” Scott suggested.

Sausage perked up. “Oh, yes, of course! I have endless stories of my own to tell! Like how I single-handedly defeated a Warden today!”

Scott conjured a snowball to fling at him. “You get one – one – joke to tell the kids a weeks – tops! Don’t encourage them like you do my brother.”

“Deal. But they get to make all the jokes they want to, because I want them to have fun with it! You’re so mean, though.” Sausage pouted at him before pulling on the shirt. “If I had to go and cause myself to lose an arm I want to be silly about it with my children. That was an unspoken part of the deal.”

Scott switched to giving him a patient smile. “Very well. Don’t worry, there is plenty of time now for all the silliness you can fit into a day.” He let Sausage arrange the shirt to his liking, then helped him don the less-familiar prosthetic. Scott finished by hooking Sausage’s dress cape across his shoulders, then retrieved his own cape from his wardrobe. “There. No reason to not be a bit fancy. We did find some nice new clothes for everyone, after all.”

Sausage grinned brightly. Scott then had to make it not seem too obvious that he was trying to stop his husband from running the whole way down the hall – but at least he took the stairs slower, with Scott tugging on his left arm once reaching the bottom step. Scott smile and hooked his arm around Sausage’s, ensuring a calm walk to the dining room.

Sausage gave him a befuddled look after the tug but followed it with a small shrug and accepted the hint to carry himself with kingly dignity rather than new-father enthusiasm. As they rounded the corner, however, he was befuddled again by the sight of Azahar standing at the doorway with his hands behind his back, wearing a herald’s tabard and cap. The latter sat oddly on his head as if covering something else. Within the dining room, the table was set for dinner with the addition of tea cups at each place. The chairs had been rearranged so that there was one at the head of the table facing the doorway and two to either side, instead of one at each end.

Azahar called out loudly in a fake deep voice, “Now welcoming the wonderous and kind Dad and Papa of Mythland!” From behind his back, he produced his violin. He played a few notes in imitation of a trumpet’s fanfare. “Please, my lords, be seated,” he directed in a less-booming voice.

Scott nodded to him. “Thank you for the introduction, good sir.” Sausage continued to feel confused, but a goofy smile rippled across his face as he and Scott headed inside. He reflexively went to the head of the table, but when he pulled out his chair he realized he wasn’t meant to sit there this time. He nearly giggled as he sat next to Scott instead.

Azahar then announced, “The Princes of Mythland shall join us shortly.” He played another short fanfare. “I shall now introduce our hostess, the beauteous and imaginative and loquacious and optimistic and—”

A voice hissed from somewhere to the side. Azahar politely cleared his throat. “And many other such things that she may be known for. I present to you: Princess Liana!” He played a longer fanfare as Liana appeared, accompanied by Elowen who was dressed in an oversized blue robe and matching cap that also seemed to be covering something else on his head. He was one step behind her with his hands held out over her head. She wore a long purple dress with ruffled tiers down the skirt. A lighter shade of lace was strung along each tier and on the short, round puffed sleeves. Atop her head was a slightly-uneven tiara made of ice, which Elowen was obviously trying to hold into shape.

When Liana reached the chair at the head of the table she curtsied to Elowen. “Thank you, High Wizard of All Ices. You may go now.” Rather than immediately leave, Elowen helped her climb onto the cushion that had been occupying the chair.

He then carefully bowed, keeping a hand on his cap to stop it from falling off, then he shuffled backward until he had made it out the door. Azahar followed until they were both out of sight; a few seconds later he used his herald voice again. “Our tardy guests have arrived! Welcome, Azahar the Musical and Elowen the Chilly!”

The boys ambled into view, tugging their clothes into place: the very outfits they had worn to their debut gala, which they clearly had been wearing under the tabard and robe, along with having been wearing their crowns under the caps. They entered the dining room and bowed low. In his normal voice, Azahar said, “So sorry for the delay, Lady Princess.”

“Our carriage was set on fire by a fire-breathing elk!” Elowen provided.

Liana tutted at them, waving a dismissive hand. “All’s well an’ good, Princes. These things happen. Please be seated.” The boys did so, with Elowen sitting closest to her so he could subtly reach toward Liana’s head to stop the tiara from melting.

Sausage had a beaming smile by this point, having put his elbows on the table and carefully interlaced his fingers to rest his chin on the back of his left hand. “You look very lovely, princess Liana. That dress is perfect for you.”

Liana’s pretend airs almost fell apart when she noticed the difference in his prosthetic. “Papa, your—” She hastily stopped herself with a little cough. “’Scuse me, Papa of Mythland, I can’ts help but see how fancy your metal arm is today. It’s interesting that you gots diff’rent ones.”

She was keeping her tone calm but her eyes sparkled with an obvious question of being allowed to see the possible others later.

Sausage replied suavely, “I wear this one for the most special of events, such as dining with very important people, like yourself.” Liana’s face lit up with a grin. Sausage’s smile quickly matched it. “I can tell you more about it this evening – perhaps after we eat? I wouldn’t want to take time away from what you have to tell us about your day, dear Princess,” he said, indicating his own interest in what he had missed.

The day’s exploits were described and the family continued with the somewhat-theatrical game up until the kitchen staff started bringing out food. Liana suddenly became quite focused on taking extreme care with how she ate, not letting a single crumb fall onto her new dress.

Her efforts continued through to dessert, although it was obvious how her façade slipped as her eyes widened and an excited smile overtook her face when presented with a piece of cake. Somehow she reigned herself in. “Why, I do says, the castle baker has outdone herself today. A very y— lovely cake is before us. Ev’ryone should enjoy it!”

A chuckle escaped Azahar. Liana’s gaze darted to him; a tiny frown twitched at her lips, either a warning or precursor to a pout if he went out of character. He salvaged the moment by saying, “Pardon my amusement, Princess Liana. I had allowed myself a thought toward the fashion of these days, and an amusing memory crossed my mind. Do you know of the shop off the main thoroughfare? Perhaps a maid has brought word? Well, they had on display a gown of the most garish shade of green that you can imagine!”

Scott was impressed at the cleverness as the conversation that followed segued back into a recounting of the shopping trip and the items they had each picked up. Elowen was more direct in his list, technically dropping his pretend act but Liana didn’t call him on it because she was just as excited to tell Sausage what she had seen and found that day.

The pretend game came to a natural end, with Liana now excited to show Sausage all her new clothes – and show him exactly what Azahar and Elowen had gotten. While Scott and the boys opted to take their time relaxing after dessert, Liana led the way up the stairs, exuberant yet careful not to trip or catch her dress on anything. Her attention slipped at the top step, however; thinking that she had reached the floor, she turned to ramble about her fitting at the tailor’s shop, only to trip.

Just as she began to fall backward, Sausage caught her by the waist and lifted her up with a grin, then set her onto her feet. “Careful, little princess. Even a pretty dress is replaceable. You are priceless.”

Liana grinned back at him. “Thanks, Papa!”

The incident didn’t stop her from running to her room, leaving him behind. By the time he caught up she was in the process of changing into a casual dress that was a shade of green close to Sausage’s usual royal robe. “I still wanna keep it nice, though,” she explained in a serious tone. Sausage nodded and hung it up in the wardrobe for her alongside other new dresses. He smiled about how they had replaced her tattered old ones.

By that point Azahar and Elowen had come upstairs to also show their new clothes. Sausage sat on the floor of the shared room with Liana hovering behind him, while Scott stood in the doorway, glad that Sausage was still participating in some way. Elowen held up a new shirt and showed how his new leggings reached below his ankles where his old ones had started coming up short. Azahar spoke of how his new shirts were more comfortable, less tight against his broadening shoulders.

Sausage offered compliments on color combinations and applauded the choice of embroidery designs on items they had picked out themselves. He then helped to swap out the ill-fitting clothes for the new.

This is where Liana pointed out how Azahar could give clothes that no longer fit him to Elowen to play in, and she could take some of Elowen’s clothes because she didn’t mind wearing things that weren’t dresses, clothes were clothes after all, and what if she did want to climb trees or run around in the mud sometime – you can’t do that in a pretty princess dress, or her new dresses, but maybe in her really old clothes, and—and—

Scott smiled throughout her motivational speech, amused yet again at how she was the perfect match for Sausage’s verbal energy, which brought about a mental image of Sausage as a young child. It came in contrast to the disquiet air hovering around Sausage at the moment despite his own delighted smile at Liana’s rambling. Scott couldn’t put a finger on what it was. If things had gone poorly with the Warden he was certain Sausage would have said something. The way his husband was caught up in the children’s enthusiasm made it seem it wasn’t the morning’s incident nor missing the day out with them that was the cause.

He would have to keep an eye on that.

~*~

The rest of the week was spent on little tours to help Liana familiarize herself with the castle grounds and the city, where she continued to charm pretty much everyone she met. She invited castle staff to tea parties, although most of the time the invitations had to be politely declined due to the already scheduled work, but Liana would find other toys visiting her to join instead. Even Bubbles would find a seat at the low table allocated for playtime.

By the following week, however, Sausage had begun to excuse himself from participating, too – briefly explaining to Liana that he had some very important kingly matters that needed his attention right away, like the one on her first full day in Mythland. His tone was regretful; he truly wanted to spend time playing with her, but the thing he couldn’t say was that in the back of his mind he had something else gnawing at him, and work was a needed distraction.

Regarding the schooling he would be missing out on in Liana’s case, Sausage had Sir Carlos direct her lessons more toward reading and language skills as agreed on with Scott, leaving more in-depth topics like math, magic, and Mythland’s history for later months. This did make Liana’s school sessions shorter than her brothers’, giving her enough free time to cheerfully play her favorite pretend games with plushies while waiting for her dads and brothers to join her.

On the fifth consecutive day of Sausage being unable to attend, however, Liana was quiet as she slowly circled the extra table in the library – now designated for tea time, since it was the easiest place Scott could keep an eye on her while also supervising the boys. She set six places instead of the usual five, going so far as to lower the cups onto their plates extremely carefully so they wouldn’t clink too loudly. Not that she lacked care the previous times, but usually she would hum to herself or talk out loud about which flavor tea she would serve and which flowers she would arrange together for a centerpiece, as well as patting at the cushions lying on the floor to make sure they were soft enough for everyone to sit on.

This time when she was done she sat in one of the big armchairs by the fireplace to wait. She swung her feet and seemed to be trying to refrain from humming, although a note slipped out every now and then. She would hastily silence herself. Scott glanced over during these moments and noticed how her head moved as her gaze would go from the hearth to the empty fireplace.

Scott had been walking behind the boys to check their progress on a history test Sir Carlos had written for them. They were both sailing through the questions with little hesitation, so he leaned between them to whisper that they could call him back over if they needed anything. Then he went over to Liana and knelt beside the chair. “Do we have a new guest today, Liana? I saw you didn’t bring your bunny to read to him while you wait for us. I heard Sir Carlos say he would be back in time to join us. Did he say he would bring a friend?”

Liana squirmed slightly and continued to look at the hearth rather than at him. “No. I just wanted to have a place for Papa so’s he could have some tea, too. Maybe he cans finish work in time today…”

Scott patted her arm. “He has been trying. I am sorry about this. We had expected to have a lot of free time for both of us to spend with you, Elowen, and Azahar aside from breakfast, dinner, and story time before bed. Sometimes unexpected things happen, and kings have to make sure every family in the kingdom is protected.”

“Mm-hmm,” Liana quietly agreed. “I know. But… kings should gets af’ernoon snacks, too. An’… an’ he didn’t come to lunch, neither. Are kings s’posed to not eat lunch when they gots a lotta work??”

Scott chuckled. “I assure you he eats while working.”

“But we’re s’posed to only eat at the table!” Indignation rose in her tone, which actually made Scott feel better – it meant she was returning to her feisty self. “We eat lunch at the big table, an’ have tea on this table, an’ there’s a table in the garden for snacks when it’s not rainin’! I wanna have a tea party in the garden one day, but ev’rybody has gots to be there!”

“Well, I’ll check with Papa before dinner and find out for you how much work he has left. We’re still waiting for that special order tea set for you, after all. We could make a garden tea party the special event when we get to see how it turned out.”

“Okay.” Liana went back into a sulking mode. “But only if Papa cans be there.”

“I’ll make sure of it.” Scott stood up and smiled down at her. “I’ll go see if your brothers are done and then while we wait for Sir Carlos I’ll tell you a story about my first lessons learning ice magic.”

As he started to turn, Liana’s hand caught his sleeve. “Daddy, cans I learn magic, too?”

He smiled gently back at her. “You can definitely give it a try. Just remember, not every elf can use magic. That’s why Azahar and Elowen have different studies at times.”

“I know,” she replied with the level of seriousness small children have. “I prob’ly don’t wanna do ice magic, anyway.” She let go of his sleeve and promptly went back to staring at the fireplace.

She had managed to convey a finality that stopped Scott from asking which other type of magic she would like to try. He found himself turning away, taking two steps toward the other table, then glancing at Liana again.

Now there was another feeling in the air he couldn’t put a finger on.

When Sir Carlos returned he was accompanied by a member of the kitchen staff who carried a covered platter for him. “Dear Lady Liana,” he clucked, bowing to her as she hopped down from the armchair. She curtsied in return. “Upon my way to the castle I was entranced by the scent of fresh pastries. I procured a number of them so that we might enjoy them with our tea.”

The staff member walked forward after a nod from Scott to set the platter down in the middle of the tea cups. Liana’s eyes widened. She ran over to crouch down until her gaze was level with the edge of the table, staring with anticipation at the platter. Lifting the cover revealed a dozen mini tartlets filled with a red jam. Liana tilted her head. “What flavor is that?”

“Raspberry,” Sir Carlos replied, his tone bright. “A fresh shipment came in from our southern allies.”

Liana did not seem enlightened. “What does ras’berry taste like?”

Scott chimed in since he could guess the best comparison she might be familiar with. “Raspberries are similar to cloudberries. Depending on how they’re prepared, they can be a little tart or made sweeter.”

Liana scrunched up her face. “That’s kinda confusin’. Cans I taste one to find out, or do I hafta wait until tea?”

“You may taste one,” Scott said. He was curious how she would react.

Liana’s hand hovered over the platter as she attempted to choose the best one for sampling. She started to reach for the one that looked the smallest, then seemed to consider picking up the biggest. However, she ended up stepping away to run over to the boys instead to ask, “Have you tasted these before?”

Azahar offered a thoughtful expression. “I’m pretty sure we have.”

Elowen nodded. “Yeah, I remember Uncle Xornoth gave us some at our gala.”

“What gala?” Liana asked, momentarily distracted from the matter of tarts.

Elowen answered, “The one where we first met Uncle Xornoth and when we got our crowns, remember?”

“Oh, yeah, I ‘member now.” Liana just sort of blinked as if now overwhelmed by imagining a gala’s worth of tarts. “Maybe Uncle Xornoth cans come to my garden tea party so’s I can meet him soon.” This new thought distracted her further.

“Maybe,” Azahar replied. “He’s a busy king like Papa and lives, well, far away as you know. But anyway, you can have one all to yourself right now to make up for us already having some.”

“Okay.” Liana went back over to the tea table, although it was another few seconds before she selected one. She carefully picked it up as if afraid it might crumble, then put it down on one of the plates. She glanced toward the door, then toward Scott, then at the door again. She inhaled loudly, then announced, “I’m gonna go ask Papa for permission, too!”

She grabbed the plate and raced out of the library before Scott could stop her. Sir Carlos clucked in alarm, “Sire, she—”

Scott shook his head. ”I think it would be worse to stop her. She might slow down if no one is following her.”

Sir Carlos clucked more quietly. “As I recall… Yes, that is a sound strategy for overly-energetic children.”

Despite her haste, Liana was holding the plate with care to avoid damaging the precious treat. An idea had possessed her that had little to do with getting permission. She made her way through the halls, remembering on her own the way to Sausage’s office.

There were guards stationed to either side of the closed door. One remained on watch as the other looked down at her curiously. “Good afternoon, Princess. All is well with your father, but he is busy right now.”

“I know!” Liana proclaimed, “But I wanted to bring him a – a ras’berry tart. Even kings should gets a snack when they’re busy, an’ he’s too busy for tea right now, too.”

The guard smiled patiently, and even the other paused his eagle-eyed gazing along the hall to give a nod. “Very well, Princess. Please enter.”

They opened the door for her. Liana gave a careful curtsy, a firm grip on the plate. “Thank you!” After she entered, the guards closed the door again.

Liana made her way past displays of armor and ignored the assorted curios on the bookshelves, marching straight up to Sausage’s desk, where she found him not scrawling on a thousand scrolls but lightly snoring as he slept, his head resting on his left arm with the metal fingers of his other hand sitting in a small pool of ink that had spilled from a knocked-over bottle.

Liana huffed. She set the plate down on a nearby chair then turned with her hands on her hips and declared with exasperation, “Papa! If you needed a nap instead of wantin’ tea, you coulda just said so!”

Sausage’s latest snore turned into a startled snort. “Hm? Huh? Wha—? Oh. Oops.” He blinked down at the spilled ink, then realized who was there. “Li-Liana. Sorry, am I missing tea time again?” He rummaged around the desk until her found a handkerchief to wipe his hand. “And well, I should be working instead of napping, but I didn’t sleep well last night, so my body decided I should have a nap!”

“Well, that means you should has a snack so’s you’re not too sleepy. Sir Chicken brought—”

“Sir Carlos,” Sausage gently corrected.

Liana nodded. “He brought special tarts, an’ I wanted you to have one!” She held out the plate and nudged it onto the side of the desk. She peered at the scroll Sausage had fallen sleep on, her eyes moving across to the puddle of ink. “I don’t think that’s gonna be accepted-ible as a message from a king. Do you wants some help, Papa? Daddy said he helps you sometimes. I’m a princess, so’s I should be able to help, too!”

As he picked up the ink bottle, Sausage was about to suggest she return to the library, then he smiled and carefully picked the scroll – with its ink pool – up. “I think there is something you can do for me, actually.” He folded the scroll and tipped it so the ink would run along the crease into the bottle in an effort to save what hadn’t started to dry. “I’ll give you this to write and draw with, and then I’ll tell you what the rest of my work here needs to be done, and then we’ll have tea – but I’ll be able to eat this delicious-looking tart while you take over for me.”

The library group’s awaiting of Liana’s return was punctuated by the quiet clucking of Sir Carlos as he graded the quizzes taken earlier and the occasional sound of a page turning as Elowen flipped through his spellbook. Across the table Scott stretched himself taller to get a glimpse of the pages, interested to see which spell Elowen might chose to practice. Azahar sat with a tea cup in hand and now sipped his pretend tea while also watching his brother from the side.

Azahar lowered the cup and said, “School is supposed to be over. Let’s not let this delicious tea and tarts go to waste!” His tone and volume indicated he was perhaps trying to summon their little sister simply by saying it.

Elowen peered over at him. “Liana isn’t back yet. Why play tea party if she’s not here? It’s her game,” he stated matter-of-factly.

Azahar smiled over the rim of the tea cup. “Well, I want to practice violin when moving so I can do that if we go look for her.”

Scott had a reasonable guess as to where Liana had gone, but he wouldn’t dissuade Azahar’s idea by mentioning it. And so, a short time later he and Elowen were following Azahar through the halls as he played a simpler tune than he had recently been practicing. Since there was the added complication of needing to avoid walking into a wall he figured he should stick to the basics.

The tune only wavered once or twice when he mistook a tapestry for a doorway – likely due to seeing it out of the corner of his eye, his brain too occupied by striking the correct notes to process the difference between rectangular shapes.

They saw no sign of Liana until they neared Sausage’s office. They came to a halt about six steps shy of the door when she stuck her head past the guards and yelled, “Cans you please go play somewhere else? Papa an’ I gots work to do!”

Azahar stilled the violin’s strings. “We were looking for you – you forgot to come back to the tea party, and we didn’t want to have it without you.”

Liana stepped fully into the hall with her arms folded over her chest indignantly. “I’m not havin’ it without Papa! Maybe if you princes helped, too, he’d finish work faster!”

The guards stepped aside, letting the whole family enter, unsure what else they were meant to do in this situation. Scott and Azahar looked over Liana’s head while Elowen peeked past her to see a scattered pile of drawings on the floor while Sausage had a tidy pile of scrolls on one side of his desk. He gave them all a sheepish look in return, having heard Liana’s comment. “We’re almost done. I did tell her a minute ago that it was okay to go ahead to the library. Didn’t I, Liana? Your brothers don’t have princely duties aside from their lessons, which means you don’t have princessly duties aside from your lessons.”

“Then Daddy should help you! He don’t gots lessons!”

Scott stifled a chuckle. Sausage, meanwhile, laughed loudly. “He helps already by being a teacher. That’s his job now. He used to help me all the time with things. But you have a point.” Sausage tapped the quill he had just picked up against his lips. “Maybe we should start sharing paperwork. And I can teach lessons like running through the garden, how to climb trees, and fetch with Bubbles!”

“Papa, that’s playtime!” Liana protested in a scolding tone. “Lessons are for readin’ an’ learnin’ hist’ry, an’ how to do magic, or how to make pretty songs! Those are things princes do!”

Scott asked, “Out of curiosity, Liana, which of Papa’s paperwork have you been doing?”

She scurried over to her mess of papers to show examples. “Well, Papa was readin’ out requests from townsfolk. Like, he said the farri-ri-er needs iron for horseshoes. So’s I drawed some horsies that already gots shoes so’s she won’t need so many yet.” She held up two pieces of paper containing three drawings each of a six-year-old’s approximation of horses wearing iron boots on all four hooves.

She searched for another piece of paper then continued, “An’ the shipsmaster wants iron for bands on shippin’ barrels, so’s I drawed iron bands for him!” She presented a paper where nearly the whole thing was taken up by circles. She uttered a child’s long-suffering sigh. “Ev’rybody sure needs a lotta iron!”

Azahar volunteered information to her. “We learned in our lessons that iron is the main export of Mythland. But that doesn’t mean we send all of it away. People across our own kingdom use plenty of it.”

It was now that it occurred to Liana to ask, “Where does all that iron come from, anyway? Sheeps grow back wool! Shiny gold comes from the ground, but it runs out when it gets dug up!”

Sausage saw an opportunity to finally move the conversation elsewhere. “Sir Carlos can tell you. He’s the one who knows the most about Mythland’s history – even more than me!”

“And,” Scott said, “He’s probably done grading those tests by now, so he’ll be free for you to ask him. You should hurry before he becomes too busy with the next lesson plan. I’ll help Papa put all these drawings together with their requests and send them off. Just like you said to, Liana.”

He waved the children off as Azahar led the way back to the library. Then he turned to Sausage. His tone switched from light-hearted to serious. “You’ve been very focused on work lately. Too focused. We were supposed to be delegating some of the less essential things so we could have time with the children. Isn’t the foreman at the Iron Castle supposed to be handling requests?”

Sausage stammered the excuse, “I’m just reviewing the summaries. It made Liana feel helpful since, you know, there’s not much to actually do here except sign my approval.”

“No, this is different. I noticed when Azahar took up the violin – which meant less sword training on the schedule, but you really threw yourself into it after that warden incident two weeks ago. Is there something you need to tell me? Did Jimmy say something and it set off something like that wall-building competition, like the old days? If I’m wrong, you know you can tell me anything.” He tried to sound encouraging rather than just sound worried.

Sausage put the quill aside and stared at the top of the desk for a moment. Then he reached his left hand over to hold his right shoulder. “It was the thing with the Warden, you’re right. No one said anything in particular, although Jimmy did accuse me of going soft. Which, I mean… He’s right, but that reason isn’t why. It was the… well. You know how it is with caves, when you’re underground and there’s… Just darkness and… stone all around you where there’s not much room to move…”

Scott could tell Sausage didn’t want to be exact in his word choice, so he said it for him. “Cold.” He walked behind the desk and started to massage both of Sausage’s shoulders, hoping he would only feel warm comfort in the gesture. “I get it. You want a distraction, and working has always been your way – and you don’t get to do as much architecture as you used to. But I think you should stick to delegating, and throw yourself into raising our children instead of dwelling on what you need to fix.”

Sausage nodded, his expression slightly crestfallen. “I know. I was trying to limit it to, you know, a time when they would be with you anyway. Sort of like shoving all my, uh, worries into scrawling on scrolls so it would be off my mind for the rest of the time.”

“That makes some sense – up until you’re late for tea,” Scott gently teased. “Liana will just keep refusing to start without you, so you might as well schedule a break for her sake, at least.” He earned a sigh in response. He leaned further into the shoulder massage then added, “They’re waiting right now. You can leave these, or I can take over. Or… even better…”

Scott reached past Sausage to the desk and, grinning, swiftly began picking up the remaining unrolled missives before Sausage could stop him. “Bring your work with you! Then Liana and the boys can help with illustrations and—”

He stopped, hand poised above neatly cut out squares of paper that had designs drawn along the borders. One had swirls, one had flowers, and one had precisely shaped rabbits. Scott’s smile softened.

Sausage’s face flushed a little. “I – I thought it wouldn’t hurt to start thinking of invitation designs, even if it’s a few years away.”

Scott set down the missives to hold up the cards for a better look. “No, you were on to something when you said we should make our own tradition. Why wait until she’s ten? We can just hold it on her upcoming birthday. That gives us about four months to plan everything. Which also reminds me that Elowen’s birthday is coming up soon. Let’s not overshadow that.” Sausage nodded in agreement.

“But right now…” Scott gathered the sample invitations and tapped them into line with each other. “…we should attend today’s tea party. No excuses. I’ll help you make up the time whether we bring this stuff to the library or not.” He took Sausage by the arm to pull him from the chair.

~*~

Elowen’s birthday began with a bumpy start: that being the bouncy motion of someone jumping up and down on the end of his bed. This was followed by Liana’s voice calling out, “Elowen! Elowen! It’s birthday time! Happy birthday!”

He stared blearily over at her. She jumped up and down exactly one more time. “Liana,” he mumbled, “I can sleep more on my birthday if I wanna…” He tried to pull the blanket up while turning onto his side; her weight kept it from moving far enough, although she shuffled her feet from one to the other to avoid falling off.

“But you’re s’posed to be excited for birthday breakfast! It’s the best thing about birthdays!”

Elowen tugged the blanket again, then gave up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He now got a better look at her. “Liana, why do you have powder all over you?”

“I was helping!”

“It’s in your hair. What were you helping to do?” Elowen sounded doubtful of any skill she might have been lending, having become familiar with her way of involving herself in things during the past month and a half since her adoption.

“Birthday breakfast! Come on!” Liana hopped off the bed. She failed to stick the landing and so ended up on her knees, but she picked herself right up and ran out of the room.

Azahar, awoken by the ruckus, commented, “There’s really no stopping her. Might as well get up now.”

As they started to take out clothes for the day they heard Sausage call out, “Liana, come back! Why are you covered in flour?!”

Another voice that the boys recognized as one of the castle cooks said, “Sorry, Your Highness. We’ve been trying to catch up to her to clean her up, but she’s, well, quite fast.”

“It’s fine. You may return to your duties. I’ll handle this.”

The boys stopped what they were doing and covered their ears. The cook hurried past their door. Sausage then bellowed, “LIANA! GET BACK HERE AND CLEAN UP, YOUNG LADY! THIS INSTANT!!”

The boys lowered their hands and went back to changing clothes. A giggling Liana came running past again. “Sorry, Papa. But it’s Elowen’s birthday!”

“I know it is, but you can’t just make a mess of yourself. You need to look nice for his birthday, too.”

“Okay, Papa!”

They heard her run past again on her way to her room.

“Hold on, I’ll help you get it out of your hair.” Sausage paused at the doorway to glance in at the boys. “Good morning! Birthday Boy, Azahar,” he greeted with a smile. “Getting ready to see what your sister has cooked up this time?”

“Looking forward to it,” Azahar replied as he buckled his belt. “I’ve never known someone to get so excited about breakfast like that.”

“Hmph. Yeah,” Elowen mumbled, making it clear that he would have preferred to still be sleeping.

Sausage gave a nod of agreement. “Well, I’ll see you downstairs. This, ah, this might take a few minutes…” He disappeared from the doorway, although they could hear him light-heartedly scolding Liana.

Within those few minutes Scott appeared. “Good morning, boys. Elowen, would you like me to braid your hair for your big day?”

Elowen patted at his shoulder-length hair thoughtfully. He realized it was still unruly from sleep. “Maybe one braid. On this side.” He pointed to the right side of his head, then sat down on the corner of his bed. Scott picked up a hairbrush and length of gold ribbon from the dresser then sat sideways on the bed behind him.

“What would you like to do today?” Scott asked while carefully brushing the tangles out of Elowen’s hair. “Papa’s whole day is free so you get to decide how we spend it.” With expert motions he gathered up just the right number of strands for braiding, mindful of Elowen moving his head when he talked.

“Can we take some of Bubbles’ troops out for a long walk in the forest? We haven’t gone out really far since Liana came home.” A mischievous smile crossed his face. “The troops are for watching her, then we can climb some trees without her running around all crazy.”

Azahar let out a laugh in agreement. “Good idea! Maybe we should post some around the castle to do that, too!”

Scott tied off Elowen’s new braid with the ribbon. “Particularly the kitchen, I hear.”

“At least on birthdays,” Elowen said. “So everyone can sleep as late as they want that day.”

Scott stood and put the brush back. “We’ll let you sleep late on her birthday to make it fair.”

Elowen looked aghast. “Dad! She’s gonna have everyone up at dawn probably!”

“I’ll tell her that birthday breakfast will be served late. Now let’s go find out what that even means.”

After collecting Sausage and a slightly-less-dusted-with-flour Liana, the family headed to the dining room. Liana, of course, insisted on running ahead so she could gesture to Elowen’s seat with a beaming smile on her face as the kitchen staff, attending the dining room for the special occasion, moved to the walls to await their cues to lift the covers on the platters in front of each person. “Look! Look! For you! It’s the best!”

Elowen put his hands on the back of his chair, contemplating more mischief by waiting, but yielded to his sister’s bright, expectant eyes and sat down. The staff member behind him stepped forward to lift the cover, releasing a waft of steam and revealing a stack of five fluffed up, round foodstuffs on his plate that were decorated in a cascade of different berries in fruit syrup. He knew what they were and was pleased to see them, but Liana’s hyper elation about it seemed a little unwarranted.

“Pamcakes and berries!” Liana crowed.

“Pancakes,” Scott corrected.

“Yeah!!” Liana pointed to Azahar’s place. “I made some like that for you, too, ‘cause I missed your birthday! But there’s less berries because it’s not your birthday.”

Azahar sat and offered her a gracious look. “Thanks for thinking of me, Liana. You’re awfully excited about these. Did you not have pancakes very often at your old home?”

“Not super big ones like these! Even when I spilled batter on the pan and there were only a bunch of tiny ones they still came out huge!” Liana hopped up onto her chair.

Scott, having a suspicion about her comments, asked, “By huge, do you mean how high they rise up when they cook?”

“Yeah!! I didn’t know pamcakes could be so tall an’ fluffy!” Liana replied. “I only ever saw flat ones! Like really, really flat! I don’t think those were actually cakes at all!”

Scott chuckled. “Elven pancakes and Mythland pancakes are made differently, Liana. Elven ones are meant to be thin and flat. The ones here are what is referred to as ‘hearty’. Humans like hearty food as fuel for their work.”

“Heart-y?” Liana pronounced the word with uncertainty. “But there’s no hearts in them! There’s eggs an’ flour an’ van-il-la! An’ sometimes berries! The cook ‘splained it to me when I said that if one berry is tasty, then putting all the berries in should make it more tasty! But if you put in too many berries, they get messed up! So’s I put the berries on after the pamcakes were done.”

Sausage seemed stunned by the whole conversation. He abruptly asked, “Wait, have we not had pancakes since she got here? That is unacceptable! I’ll make sure they’re on the menu regularly from now on!”

“Papa!” Liana’s voice took on a whiny edge. “They’re for birthday breakfast! Y’know, special!”

A gleeful look entered Sausage’s eyes. “Well, it’s got to be _someone’s_ birthday on whatever day we have them! We can have pancakes in their honor!”

Liana didn’t seem sure what to make of his reasoning. She sat down and scrunched up her face in thought, remaining that way as the food was presented to everyone else at the table, and she stayed in quiet contemplation as she ate.

Elowen wouldn’t say it out loud, but that was a pretty good present.

Finally, after the dishes were cleared away, Liana announced, “I wanna know everyone in the castle’s birthdays so’s we cans have pamcakes on those days!” She pointed to the door the staff had exited through.

Sausage uttered a laugh that sounded like he was partially crying. “Okay, okay. We’ll do it that way from now on!”

The family was soon on their way for a nice walk along forest paths, enjoying the fresh air and being away from responsibilities. As requested, a half dozen of Bubbles’ spare troops accompanied them. The children had fun running along the paths, throwing sticks scavenged from the ground for the dogs to fetch and letting themselves be chased around giant mushroom stems. Sausage and Scott strolled arm in arm behind them, smiling at the joyous hollering.

At one point they all stopped at a tree with particularly large, low-hanging branches which Elowen and Liana wanted to climb on. Elowen managed by himself but Liana needed extra help up, so Scott went over to help her find the right hand holds.

Sausage meandered away when one of the dogs went sniffing into some underbrush, curious – and in some ways wary – of what the dog had caught wind of. He followed for a minute or more, going further off trail, until he saw the brief twitch of a fluff gray tail. The dog took off running, panting excitedly. Sausage shook his head at the lacking of training but smiled in relief. No actual danger; merely a squirrel.

He turned to go back to the trail but didn’t see it right away, underestimating how far he had gone. Should be easy enough to find, he figured. Just wait to hear Liana shouting about something. He walked in what he figured was the general direction. If anything, the dog would return to his side and he would ask it to sniff out his family.

Presently a gust of wind rustled the leaves. Sausage looked up and noted how densely packed they seemed in the area, making it impossible to see the sky. It was chilly in all this shade. He hugged his arms over his chest without thinking about it, gaze still turned upward for a glimpse of the sun. In doing so he wasn’t paying attention to what was in front of him and he strode right into an oak tree’s trunk. It set him off balance, so he instinctively threw out his right hand to catch hold of it and steady himself. The bark split and came loose under the hard metal of his prosthetic fingers, costing him the anchor point and putting him further off balance. He stumbled in response, fetching up against a larger dark oak tree. His gaze went to the branch that he had narrowly missed hitting his head on, directly above his crown. The trunk at his back felt so cold from perpetually being in the shade. He hastily turned away from it, moving backward while keeping his eyes on the tree as if something felt wrong about it.

This caused him to bump right into another of the thick, looming trees. They were so close to each other. The world was so dark under them. There seemed to be no other world beyond them, it was only him and walls made by the trunks. The shade was so cold. …So cold…

He heard Scott’s voice calling as if from a distance. From the other side of that wall…

It was the sound of dogs barking that snapped him out of it. He saw the small pack come charging between the trees, tails wagging and tongues out to lick at his left hand. Instincts kicked in again to get him moving as he gently patted them on the head in turn.

“There you are!” a relieved Scott called out, pushing a small branch out of his way as he passed between the trees just fine like the dogs had. The children followed behind him. “And here we had worried about Liana wandering off.”

“I— sorry— I—I was just keeping an eye on the little guy who ran off after a squirrel,” Sausage explained, casting a glance over the dogs to find the one in question. He couldn’t really pick it out from the pack swarming around him.

Scott was studying him intensely but only said, “We should head back home anyway. Elowen scraped his arm on the way down from that tree we were at.”

“O-Oh no!” Sausage turned his attention fully to his younger son. “How bad is it? You sure it’s just a scrape?”

“Yup,” Elowen replied, sounding proud. “Look, I already covered it!” He held up his left forearm, where his shirt sleeve had been torn all the way to the elbow but the injury in question had a layer of frost over it, preventing any bleeding. “Ice bandages are cold, but I did it myself!”

No one saw the spot over Sausage’s right eye twitch. “That’s really impressive. Good job! But we’ll still go home. Maybe have a snack and then we can run around in the garden instead. We should also practice tree climbing there so that doesn’t happen again!”

~*~

Whether from too much syrup in his stack of pancakes or from the experience out in the forest, Sausage found himself tossing and turning in bed, half-aware of his discomfort but asleep enough to have flickers of a dream dancing through his subconscious.

The whispering. Quiet, insidious. His right hand, reaching out. A dark blade within his grasp.

A smile. All teeth, no joy.

Two figures stepped forward, blocking his way. Their auras were bright and he squinted against the glow, but he was stronger. He would not be stopped.

They fell, revealing his goal behind them. A sword of ice held ready to meet him.

So cold, like the look in the eyes of the wielder. A look of betrayal and no forgiveness.

The whispering spoke to him again. “So, this was how you chose to get what you wanted?”

Pain ripped through him – not from the ice sword, but from the look in those eyes. Sausage was poised to strike in return, right arm raised. He forced his body to halt. “No. This isn’t what I wanted. Take it back. Take the power back!”

“It is yours to keep. It is a part of you now. Go on. Finish what you started. There is only one way to end it.”

“No!”

“But it suits you; so it does now as it did then. You brought it with you. You could no further cut it away from yourself than you would your own heart. Grasp it. Embrace it. Hold it in your hand.”

His hand. His h a n d.

Sausage bolted upright and reached out with his right hand, grabbing onto empty air—

—Except he didn’t. Because he couldn’t. Because he had no right hand. Yet he could swear he felt it…

He darted a glance over to Scott to make sure he hadn’t awoken him. Making sure that his husband remained undisturbed, Sausage left the bed and padded out of the room, foregoing a robe over his night clothes in his haste. Not wanting to disturb the children, either, he silently made his way to the library where the layers of books would dampen sounds like whispers from echoing off stone walls. Once there he stoked up a small fire in the fireplace to ward off memories of ice that were making him feel cold.

He sat in the armchair closest to the hearth then undid the buttons on one side of the cuff covering his stump. He rubbed his thumb over the scar that ran along the end. He used the change in texture to remind himself that the arm was, in fact, gone; it was merely a phantom sensation that had him imagining something was there.

He pressed his fingertips into his skin closer to his shoulder. That was a real feeling. He wasn’t able to hurt anyone like this…

And yet the mix of memory and dream played through his head over and over, continuing to haunt him. Maybe he shouldn’t have gone into that cave. He should have just left it to Jimmy and Tango. He shouldn’t have gone with them to where it was so deep and cold and closed in, where it was dark and isolated and away from everything where no one could reach—

The impression of a small hand on his knee brought him back to the present. Liana stood beside the chair in her nightgown and bare feet. Indigo eyes looked up at him in concern. “Papa, are you okay? I was gettin’ water an’ saw the fire in here, an’ there’s not s’posed to be fire in here without anyone! Aren’t you sleepy?”

“L-Liana, hi,” Sausage stammered, though to his own surprise he kept his tone gentle rather than awash with the turmoil that had been on his mind. “I had a bad dream and I just wanted to sit for a while without bothering Dad, so I came here. I’m – I’m okay. You should go back to bed, though. Little princesses need their rest.”

“But you’re gonna need a nap when you’re workin’ again if you don’t sleep! A princess cans take a nap whenever, but it doesn’t seem like a busy king can! ‘Specially when…” Her gaze drifted to the loosened cuff. She continued in a soft voice, “…when he only gots one arm.”

For a moment Sausage felt self-conscious and couldn’t remember if he had told her that he didn’t sleep with the prosthetic on. He then wondered what her perception of him might have been while he was sitting there zoned out holding his stump. He pushed a smile onto his face. “Well, I might need a nap every so often, but I can still do plenty of things with one arm. Like… I can still pick up little girls who should be in bed!” He shifted his weight in the chair so he could lurch to the left and scoop her up with his arm, then shifted to sit back with her in his lap.

Liana giggled and hugged him with all her tiny might, then crawled to the side and placed a kiss on the end of his stump. “I kiss it and make it all better, okay, Papa?”

Sausage’s eyesight blurred with tears. He suppressed a small choked sound then stammered again. “Th-thanks, Liana. I think that’s just what I needed.” More than you know, he added to himself. He returned the favor by making a show of noisily trying to kiss her on the forehead, inspiring another giggle as she fended off being tickled by his beard. Eventually he did land a kiss somewhere in her hair. “All right, back to bed for both of us, my little princess.”

Sausage gently hugged her and moved to put her down so he could more easily get up from the chair, but she clung to his left arm. She didn’t seem upset about anything despite her face being pressed to his shoulder, but Sausage settled into the chair again anyway. He instinctively moved his right arm to hold her across the back – a different kind of forgetting the lack of arm – and instead leaned his head against hers. He let her snuggle up to his chest for a little while, although at some point they both fell asleep, leaving the fire to die down on its own.

The library seemed warmer by then, anyway.

~*~

The sound of Scott’s voice quietly saying his name, along with the shaking of his shoulder coaxed Sausage awake. He didn’t respond right away since he felt the weight of Liana on him. The little girl was still fast asleep. Scott, sensibly having a thick robe over his night clothes, stood over him and upon meeting Sausage’s eyes he whispered, “Did she have a nightmare?”

“No,” Sausage said, his voice gruff from sleep, “I did.” He tried to shift a bit, intending to get up while still holding Liana, but the leverage to do so eluded him.

Scott stepped in, reaching to pick her up, but then she awoke with a yawn. “’Mornin’, Daddy! Papa was sad about his arm, so’s I kissed it an’ made it better!”

“Oh?” Scott replied. He went ahead and half-picked her up, half-helped her down from the armchair, guiding her far enough away so Sausage had space to use his left arm to get himself up. “That was wonderful of you to do, Liana. Did you follow him all the way here just for that?”

“No, I was gettin’ water. But I forgot it when I saw fire in here!”

“That explains the cup in the hallway,” Scott said, clasping his chin and nodding at the solved mystery.

“Yeah, I saw Papa an’ wondered why he wasn’t sleepin’. See, that’s why he needs a nap when he’s workin’!”

Sausage laughed awkwardly as he stepped over beside her. “I guess you’re right. I’ll have a chat with Dad about it later. Or maybe right now,” he amended when Scott shot him a stern look. “But you need to go get dressed before breakfast. No hugging as an excuse this time! We’ll be along soon.”

“Yes, Papa.” Liana hugged him anyway, then hugged Scott, and finally scurried out of the library. Less than a second later they heard her announce, “I forgots my water again! It’s spilled on the floor now!”

“It’s fine, Liana,” Scott called after her. “We’ll take care of it! Please go upstairs!” He waited a moment before turning to Sausage with what was now an imploring look.

“I – I’m okay, I promise,” Sausage assured him. “It was just one little dream. I just needed to walk for a bit, a-and needed to sit for a bit and… and needed to be by myself for a bit…”

Scott’s gaze went to Sausage’s right side, eying how the cuff was hanging open.

Sausage covered it with his hand. “I just… um…”

Scott stepped up to him and enfolded him in an embrace. Sausage lowered his face to Scott’s chest and sighed; he let his shoulders go slack as Scott said softly, “You don’t have to tell me about the dream. But you don’t have to sneak out or be alone. I know it’s not easy if something reminds you of what happened. And I know we can’t predict what might be a reminder. And… I know you, when you’re left alone with those thoughts. I’m glad Liana happened to be there. Remember, you and I are here, we’re here for our children, we’re here for the future.”

“I know,” Sausage mumbled into the front of Scott’s robe. He allowed the elf his own moment, recalling how things got dicey even after the loss of his arm. His left hand moved upward to embrace Scott in turn. After another second or two Sausage again spoke through the fabric of the robe. “Um. We should get going. Before the kids walk by.”

Scott drew back. “Right. Sorry. I just—”

Sausage cut him off with a smile, “We both just want a lot this night – morning – whatever time of day it is. You know what else I want? To start planning the biggest tea party the empires have ever seen!”

~*~

It was a lovely day in The Undergrove, with a sunny view from one of the outside balconies on the rainbow mushroom castle where Katherine and Shrub were having a picnic together. They could hear the chirping of numerous local birds – although, presently, they heard a deeper croak and a jet-black bird glided down to land on the checkered blanket.

It croaked again and danced closer to Shrub so she could see the scroll held in its talons. “Guardian Shrub! Undergrove!” the bird announced.

Shrub leaned to take the scroll. “News from Mythland, huh?” She unrolled it and scanned the words.

Katherine scooted over. “Is it private, or general news?”

A smile spread across Shrub’s face. “Nope! One probably went to the Overgrown, too! It’s another debut gala invitation!” She held the missive up for Katherine to read as she looked over Shrub’s shoulder, consequently nestling closer to the gnome. They took a second to smile softly at each other, then Katherine skimmed the words on the scroll.

“Aww! Scott and Sausage decided to adopt a little princess! How sweet! So, she likes bunnies and playing tea party? She sounds adorable!”

[To be continued in Chapter Five: The Twins and Them ]

#empires smp #empires smp fanfic #empiresshipping #mythicalsausage #scott smajor #dangthatsalongname #tangotek #jimmy solidarity #scosage #empires smp s1 #champions au: garden path #lunar yarns

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chrisginny · 2 years ago

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the thing i love most about the deleted scene with ginny in it (other than ginny herself, of course) is that we get to see more of chris as her own character. throughout the actual movie, we mostly see her through knox’s eyes and in relation to the boys in her life (chet and knox). in the deleted scene, however, we learn about her friendship with ginny, the school she goes to, her curiosity about welton, her enthusiasm and encouragement of ginny, the fact that she’s on good terms with ginny’s mom, etc. and even though it’s such a short scene, it’s refreshing to get to know chris aside from her love interests and to see her close friendship with another girl.

#this has probably been said before but whatever #gail speaks #dps #tag later #chris noel #dead poets society #ch tag: you are so infuriating

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badbatchposts · 4 months ago

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Quiet Corners of the Galaxy, Ch. 26

Relevant tags/content warnings: Crosshair/Original Female Character, Slow Burn, Enemies to Lovers, Periodic Smut, Canon-Typical Violence, Alcohol Use, 18+/Explicit

Read the full fic so far on AO3

Read previous chapters on Tumblr: Ch. 1 l Ch. 2 l Ch. 3 l Ch. 4 l Ch. 5 l Ch. 6 l Ch. 7 l Ch. 8 l Ch. 9 l Ch. 10 l Ch. 11 l Ch. 12 l Ch. 13 l Ch. 14 l Ch. 15 l Ch. 16 l Ch. 17 l Ch. 18 l Ch. 19 l Ch. 20 l Ch. 21 l Ch. 22 l Ch. 23 l Ch. 24 l Ch. 25

Chapter 26 summary: The Batch returns to the clone base, and Crosshair struggles with showing Dara that he cares.

Extra content warnings for this chapter: Smut! 18+! PIV sex, fingering, dirty talk, light degradation, discussion of dom/sub dynamics, light spanking

The return trip to the clone base was long and quiet. Tech busied himself analyzing the samples they’d acquired, while the others speculated about what they’d found—apart from Dara, who had shut herself up in the cargo hold the moment after she passed along the vial she had stashed after the villa heist.

Crosshair pulled Omega aside once they were safely in hyperspace. “Try to get her to let you treat her hands,” he murmured to his sister, shoving a medkit at her. “They’re bad. She’s going to get an infection.”

Omega looked at him pointedly. “Maybe you should go.”

He leveled a glare at her, which promptly melted in the face of her raised eyebrow. Finally, he sighed. “She doesn’t want my help. We’ll just argue. Come on—she’ll listen to you.”

With a knowing and, frankly, infuriating smile, Omega acquiesced, politely knocking before letting herself into the cargo hold. Crosshair watched the closed door anxiously for the long while that it took his sister to return.

“Mission accomplished,” she informed him with a gentle pat on the knee.

He gave her a small, tight smile—about the maximum expression of gratefulness that he was capable of—before heading to the cockpit, finding Hunter thoughtfully watching the lights of hyperspace. Crosshair sat next to him and inserted a toothpick between his lips, chewing intently. This was the harder part; it was somehow easier to ask Omega for help, and so much more difficult to expose himself to Hunter like this.

As usual, though, it didn’t take his brother long to pick up on his distress.

“Problem?” Hunter asked, not shifting his gaze even the slightest towards the sniper. This was how the Sergeant often invited his brother to open up: avoiding eye contact, feigning nonchalance, making sure he didn’t feel backed into a corner. Crosshair appreciated it more than ever in this moment, feeling himself on the prickly edge of defensiveness already.

“Did the others already mention…how Dara reacted?” Crosshair began slowly. When Hunter murmured in assent, he continued quietly. “Omega treated her hands, but I don’t know if she’s eaten or drank anything since she… found them. Maybe you should check on her,” he suggested.

Hunter was merciful—at least for now—directing no comment, not even a raised eyebrow, at Crosshair. He simply stood, clasped his brother on the shoulder, and grabbed rations from the galley on his way to the cargo hold. Marginally more relaxed, Crosshair remained seated, watching hyperspace fly by the viewport. Later, perhaps, he would be subject to teasing, smug looks, a lecture, but for now, Hunter would take care of things. Dara would listen to Hunter, she would let him make sure that she was okay.

Something about that stung a little—the infuriating certainty that Dara would accept help from Omega, Hunter, hell, anyone else on the squad, other than himself. That he wasn’t allowed to want her to be warm, or rested, or cared for—except for when she’d been too drunk to remember it.

But he could admit that it was his own fault. He had already decided that, when he could get Dara alone for a moment, he was going to do something very rare for him: he was going to apologize.

***

It was late afternoon on the clone base by the time the Marauder landed, and the atmosphere remained grim as the squad filed into a meeting room to debrief from their joint mission. Rex was accompanied by Howzer and Gregor to listen to what they had discovered, and Saw joined via holo, expression as serious as ever. Dara—who had at least taken a few moments during the journey to wash the smell of death and decay off in the fresher—and Tech led the meeting, taking turns filling in what they now knew not only of the facility on Xagalus and the fate of the missing clones, but also Fait Prium and Kumalon Laboratories.

As Dara reported on the information they had gathered by coincidence during the earlier mission, Rex asked her to elaborate further on what Nor Raab had implied about the company’s work with the Empire. Frowning, she dug through her pack until she found a wide band of woven leather; Crosshair recognized it as the one she had been creating on the Marauder after that mission. She examined it closely, tracing the knots with a finger, before answering the Captain’s question.

Saw unexpectedly broke into a mischievous smile at the clones’ evident confusion over her actions. “Another one of Dara’s secrets,” he noted proudly.

Dara shot him a tolerant glance before explaining, though her voice remained duller than usual. “It’s an ancient record-keeping system. I use it to preserve coded intel while on mission so that I don’t forget—and there’s little chance of it being understood if it falls into the wrong hands.”

Tech barely contained his evident interest for the sake of finishing the debrief, though he would undoubtedly interrogate Dara about the details later.

“I was able to confirm that the sample we found on Xagalus matches the one we discovered in Prium’s vault,” he concluded. “However, I will require some time to conduct tests and further analyze the plant and chemical samples in order to determine the drug’s purpose.”

Gregor giggled and elbowed Howzer good-naturedly. “Don’t suppose it’d be a good idea just to test it on ourselves, eh?”

Rex nodded and took over before Tech could overlook the joke and begin explaining exactly why that was such a bad idea. “Good work, everyone. I’m sorry to hear that we weren’t there in time to recover our brothers—but this is exactly why we need to keep doing what we’re doing. To get them justice, and to stop what’s happened to them from happening to anyone else.” He turned to Saw and addressed him directly. “We’ll keep looking into what kind of experiments the Empire’s doing with this chemical, and when we see you in a few rotations hopefully we’ll know more.”

With the debrief concluded and Saw signing off, the clones began to break away, some chatting in smaller groups while others set out toward various tasks. From across the room, Crosshair saw Dara slipping off alone and made to follow.

He caught up with her a few platforms away in a quieter portion of the base. This platform hosted an enclosed building that appeared to be a secondary storage area; a few crates littered the windowless hallway where he finally found her leaning against a wall, arms folded, staring at the floor.

Dara looked up and met his eyes. “Why are you here, Crosshair?” she asked.

He opened his mouth to begin his apology, but something in her expression stopped him. He had expected her to still be angry with him, to lash out and snap, to have to talk her down before he could get a word in.

What he hadn’t expected was for her to look a second away from crumpling.

It was as if, with the mission over and debrief done, everything she’d just barely managed to hold together was leaking out, leaving her deflated. Somehow, she even looked smaller.

This was bad. He didn’t like this, this image of a woman so close to breaking. This was worse than after the bar fight, when she’d admitted that she thought he should’ve just let her die.

This was the very picture of himself right after Mayday’s death, when despair was ready to suck him dry from the inside out and leave him a husk. When the only thing that kept him alive and conscious and out of Imperial hands, the only thing that got him back to his family, was his rage.

He was wrong. Dara didn’t want him to take care of her. She didn’t need his apology or whatever minute, clumsy tenderness he was capable of. She needed the fury back. That was what was keeping her going.

Crosshair could give her that. He could get her blood boiling.

He could fuck her so hard she would forget to think about falling apart.

So Crosshair didn’t apologize, didn’t say he didn’t mean it, that she deserved to bury her dead. That he knew what it was like—that he never got to bury Mayday. Instead, he took a step forward, and another, until he was standing close enough to touch her.

Instead, he said, “I’m here because, through every second of that debrief, all I could focus on was the idea of you giving it with my cum still dripping out of you.”

And then he waited a beat, two beats, until suddenly Dara was crashing her lips against his.

***

When Dara saw Crosshair emerge through the door into her hiding place, she wanted to lose it. She wanted to yell, to clench her fists, to shove him away, to make him leave so that she could be alone with the pit in her stomach and the buzz in her brain. She’d just barely made it through her report, clinging desperately to the even-natured, controlled façade that she put on through every mission, every undercover assignment, every strategy meeting, and now all she wanted was a quiet place to lick her wounds.

But she was too tired to scream or fight. There wasn’t even enough left in her to mourn.

Dara couldn’t imagine what Crosshair wanted from her now, and she was almost too exhausted to care. There was something inscrutable in the way he was looking at her when she asked, his eyes soft then hard, the lines in his face open, then closed off.

She hoped to the Force that he didn’t want to talk about what it meant that they’d fucked.

So when he made clear that all he wanted was more wild, mind-numbing sex, she didn’t feel guilty anymore at the idea of indulging. She no longer had the capacity—or the desire—to feel anything but want.

And kriff, she wanted him.

Crosshair’s mouth was as insistent as she remembered, his tongue prying between her lips without waiting for permission. Dara let out a moan that she didn’t bother suppressing, and closed the gap between them, pressing one of his armored thighs between her legs as she clawed frantically at his codpiece, fumbling with bandaged hands. Crosshair slid his gloved fingers beneath her shirt impatiently, squeezing at her hips and waist before trying to tug her shirt and poncho over her head in one go.

“No way,” Dara protested, pulling away from the kiss. “I’m not getting fully naked here where anyone might walk in on us!”

Crosshair growled and nipped at her neck, retracing the bruises he’d left there before. She felt herself melting, the menacing snarl and the twinges of pain sending electric sparks along her skin, but tried to maintain her glare even as she stretched to expose more of her throat to his attentions.

“Fine,” he relented. “At least take off this ridiculous thing so I can feel you.”

“It’s not ridiculous,” Dara muttered, but pulled her poncho off and tossed it aside nonetheless. She returned her fingers to his codpiece, finally managing to unlatch the plastoid and letting it clatter loudly to the floor. She sucked her own mark into Crosshair’s throat as she palmed him through his blacks, feeling his cock harden and eliciting a groan from him.

Crosshair tugged his gloves off with his teeth, dropping them to the floor, and let his warm, calloused hands roam over Dara’s torso beneath her shirt, stroking at her scars and curves before kneading at her breasts. He ran his thumbs over her nipples, and even through her breast band she could feel how they jumped at his touch.

She wanted more bare skin, she wanted him out of his armor. But this wasn’t the place for it.

Crosshair must also have been needing to feel skin against skin, because he slipped both hands beneath the waistband of her pants, cupping her bare ass tightly and using this new leverage to press her into his length. He rutted against her, grinning wickedly. It was the widest smile she’d ever seen from him, and fuck if it didn’t do something for her.

“You want this cock, burk’yc? Are you going to be a good girl for me?” he teased.

Dara rolled her eyes, pretending his words didn’t make her clench around nothing. “You know the answer to both those questions.” She punctuated her statement with a grind against him and stood on tiptoe to bite his earlobe.

Crosshair hummed noncommittally. He removed his hands and stepped back, turning her around so that she faced the wall, and snaked his arms around her waist. Suckling and nibbling at her neck, he undid the buttons on her pants and tugged them down just below her ass, exposing her only as much as necessary for the moment. His left hand clutched at her breast, while his right ghosted down along her slit, one finger dipping between her folds.

“But you’re already being so good,” Crosshair purred. “See how wet you are for me?”

Dara shuddered and pressed both hands up against the wall, leaning heavily. With the hem of her pants still resting at mid-thigh, she couldn’t spread her legs any further, couldn’t balance herself, could hardly even move to try to direct Crosshair’s attention to where she wanted him. Luckily, he didn’t seem interested in teasing her this time—at least, not physically. He didn’t demand anything before plunging one finger deep inside her, curling it with precision and earning a series of pleased moans as he worked it rhythmically.

“Do you want more, mesh’la?” Crosshair murmured against her ear. His voice, kriff, she could cum from his voice alone.

“Yes,” Dara gritted between her teeth. Her eyes were screwed shut, her mind blank, focused on nothing but how good he was making her feel—although she couldn’t help the fleeting, suspicious thought that he was being strangely cooperative so far.

The idea evaporated with the feeling of him pressing a second long digit inside of her, stroking expertly along her walls. Yes, that was even better, she felt so full, and then his thumb was circling around her clit with a steady pressure, and she was riding his fingers as best she could and he had better not try to interrupt this or she would kill him, and then she teetered over the edge, crying out, shuddering and keening with pleasure.

After working her gently through it, Crosshair pulled his fingers out and held them against her lips. Without thinking, still lost in the haze of her orgasm, Dara opened her mouth for him, sucking every drop of her juices clean.

He chuckled, tonguing the shell of her ear. “See? You are a good girl.”

Kriff. Dara couldn’t let him know how much she enjoyed that, didn’t want to let him have her on this unequal footing. If they were going to fuck, it was going to be on her terms.

“Fuck off,” she panted, the curse probably undermined by how weak and breathy her voice still was.

He only chuckled again. After a quick slap to her ass—“Hey!” Dara protested, only to disguise the delighted cry she would have let out otherwise—Crosshair was pulling his cock out from his blacks, stroking lazily a few times before lining up with her entrance. He had to squat a little to make up for their height difference, balancing carefully with his thighs caging in her own before pressing slowly into her, inch by hot inch.

Groaning, it was his turn to force the words out through gritted teeth. “Fuck, you’re tight like this.”

“Yeah, well, I can hardly move,” Dara complained. Better to deflect than to say how big he felt inside of her, how good it felt to be impaled on his cock again. Crosshair moved one hand to her waist to help her balance and tangled the other in her hair. He tugged, drawing a squeak out of her throat and giving him better access to return to nipping at her neck. Then he thrust hard, transforming the squeak into a full-throated cry.

“Cyar’ika, you can say what you like to me, you can act like a brat, but right now… You. Are. All. Mine.” Crosshair found a comfortable rhythm, dragging his cock languidly against her walls, fucking her deep and hard. It was an exquisite torture, to feel so full, so sensitive after her first orgasm, her mind emptying dangerously.

Still, she wouldn’t let him get away with that.

“I’m…not…your…anything,” Dara eked out. She reached both hands behind Crosshair and gripped the plastoid of his skid plate, wishing it was the flesh of his muscular ass, and used it to press him even more tightly against her, trying to force him to speed up.

Crosshair tutted and removed her hands, pinning them back against the wall and thrusting deep. “Brat,” he whispered into her ear. “We both know you want me to take control. Why keep fighting it?” He gave her hair another harsh tug, gripping by the root. “You’re in control everywhere else, and you’re too ashamed to admit how badly you want to submit here—is that it?”

“Who says that’s what I want?” Dara countered. She was getting impatient, and, with the fire of lust sufficiently stoked within her, now she found she suddenly had the energy to fight again. Was it so much to ask for some good sex without having to deal with Crosshair’s obnoxiousness to get it?

He was keeping up his steady rhythm, seemingly full of infinite patience as he fucked her just hard enough to give her pleasure, but not nearly enough to build towards another orgasm.

“You like it. It’s obvious. You can’t help reacting.” He tightened his grip on her hair and scraped his teeth along her throat, and Dara proved his point by shivering.

“That’s not the problem,” she insisted. “The problem is I don’t like you.” She’d given up control during sex before, been submissive plenty of times and enjoyed it enormously, although that wasn’t the role she played with every partner. No, it wasn’t that. It was Crosshair.

The sniper continued laving at her throat. “Come now, burk’yc. What have I ever done to you?”

“Do you really want me to answer that?”

He slowed his pace for a moment, then thrust hard into her, picking his rhythm back up again.

“I guess not.”

For a few minutes she thought that might be the end of it, but she wasn’t so lucky. He sped up his thrusts a little as he returned to his train of thought, the plastoid of his thigh plates striking hard enough against her ass to bruise.

“So, you don’t trust me enough to give me control, but you’ll still let me take you against the wall like this.” It was more a taunt than a genuine question. Although her view currently afforded her little more to look at than the wall, Dara could imagine the sneer on his incredibly punchable face.

“I thought you were supposed to be the quiet one. Don’t you ever shut up?” she snapped.

“Why?” he mocked. “Am I distracting you from how badly you want to cum on my cock?”

“Yes!” she exclaimed.

“Well then be a good girl and quit arguing with me so I can make you cum.”

Dara finally exploded. “You are such a kriffing asshole!”

It was as if Crosshair had finally gotten the reaction he wanted, needling and provoking her until she was so filled with fury that she might have actually attacked him if she weren’t thoroughly pinned down. He spanked her once, hard, and Dara’s eyes rolled into the back of her head as she was overcome with a bliss sparked by the sharp, sudden pain, letting a moan that, this time, she could do nothing to disguise. By the time she’d come back to herself and managed to refocus, panting heavily, Crosshair had spun her around so she was facing him again. He held her chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing her to meet his amber eyes, the pupils dilated with lust.

“If you were mine, I’d have to punish you for speaking to me that way, mesh’la,” he murmured, voice like a coiling snake. Dara shivered involuntarily, unable to tear her gaze away from his, thrown too far off balance to come up with a fiery retort.

Suddenly, Crosshair dropped to his knees. He made quick work of removing her boots, tearing her pants the rest of the way off and sucking bruises into her thighs while she stood there, paralyzed, until she was bare from the waist down. Then he stood just as abruptly and lifted her, fingers sinking deeply into her plush ass, so that she was trapped between him and the wall, his armor cold against her skin. He wasted no time in seating her on his cock, and she cried out with pleasure as he entered her again, penetrating even further with this new angle. Once he could go no deeper, he stilled and kissed her hard, exploring every inch of her mouth with tongue and teeth before he finally continued.

“But since you’re not mine, and your tight little cunt feels so fucking good for me, I’ll just keep using you how I want.”

With that, he returned to pounding into her relentlessly, picking up a frantic, overwhelming pace. Dara could do little more than grip his shoulders for dear life and throw her head back, keening as he panted into the crook of her neck. Luckily, that was all she wanted to do, mind blank, chasing her pleasure, meeting him thrust for thrust, focused on nothing beyond how Crosshair was fucking her brains out in some dusty storage building and everything was going to be fine as long as she got to cum right this kriffing second. Her ears were ringing and she no longer had any control over the volume of her moans, and now he was slipping his fingers between their bodies and rubbing her clit again and—

“Fuck, Crosshair, I’m going to—”

“That’s right, cyar’ika,” Crosshair purred. “Scream so loud for me Hunter will be able to hear you all the way across base.”

And she did, moaning nonsense and curses and his name until he groaned into the side of her face, kissing her jaw messily as he came to his own end. Dara’s body and mind crackled and burned with a pleasant rush, like feeling returning to frozen limbs after too long in the cold. Crosshair held himself as deep inside of her as he could go for a few long moments while he caught his breath, tickling her ear and jaw with every heavy exhalation.

Finally, Crosshair pulled out and settled Dara’s feet back on the floor. He tucked himself back into his blacks and refitted his codpiece while she pulled her pants back on, then sank down to sit on the ground. She closed her eyes and let her head fall back to rest against the wall.

She was so spent that she didn’t have the energy to be surprised or annoyed when she felt him sit down next to her, or even when she felt a tentative hand gently tracing the scar on her lower back.

Dara opened one eye to look at Crosshair, amused. His own eyes were closed and he already had a toothpick in his mouth.

“What is it with you and scars?” she asked. “You have a thing for them or something?”

The hand stroking her lower back paused, then retracted. She almost winced, feeling bad for a moment—the contact was unexpected, but it hadn’t been bothering her. Still, she wasn’t about to tell him that.

“They were the only proof I had that there was more to you than you were admitting,” Crosshair murmured.

She shrugged. “You could’ve asked about them.”

“Oh? What lie would you have told me?” He glanced at her with a smirk that was equal parts annoying and boyishly attractive.

Dara couldn’t help grinning back. “Childhood speeder accident and a mugging gone wrong. I’m terribly unlucky.”

“Mmm…” He hesitated a moment before continuing. “They’re… both from the war?”

Dara wished a little that she hadn’t brought it up. It wasn’t that she couldn’t talk about what caused them—the story wasn’t all that bad. No, it was everything surrounding it that she wished she could forget.

She grunted in confirmation, steeling herself. “The last battle for Onderon. I was shot early on. Got treated and tried to keep fighting a few hours later. Then the shrapnel from a crashing gunship hit me. We’d run out of bacta by then—it scarred badly, but I lived.” Dara chuckled at one part of the memory that was less difficult to reflect on. “Our medic was so pissed at me for going back out after I got shot. She still brings it up.”

Crosshair frowned. “I thought you were a spy, not a soldier.”

She smiled sadly. She was never supposed to be either.

“I used to do strategic intelligence-gathering when we were infiltrating the capital city, but by that point we’d retreated to the mountains,” she explained. “We needed every person we had for that battle. Almost lost. Lost a lot of our people.”

He looked at her intently, too intently, with that piercing amber gaze, and she looked away, kept talking to avoid dwelling on it, to keep him from asking any more questions.

“They called us terrorists then, too, but in some ways it used to be easier,” she reflected. “This war’s different. It won’t always be outright battles that get us victories. Or losses.”

Dara got up and retrieved her poncho, settling it over her shoulders. With one last glance back at Crosshair, who was still watching her like he could see through her layers and down to her very bones, she strode off into the cool evening air.

She was sore, but no longer numb. This was better.

Tag list: @stardusthuntress @skellymom @megmegalodondon @somewhere-on-kamino @morerandombullshit @zahmaddog @flaming-dumpster

Thanks again to @cloneflo99 for the amazing banner!!!

Next chapter

#the bad batch #star wars #bad batch #clone force 99 #tbb crosshair #the bad batch fanfiction #clone wars fanfiction #the bad batch crosshair #crosshair bad batch #crosshair x oc #tbb wrecker #tbb echo #tbb tech #tbb hunter #tbb omega #the bad batch fanfic #star wars fanfiction

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cryptid-juzou · 15 days ago

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Thanks for the tag @msshinylemon and @nolongerforthetainted 😊

Fanfic Writer Interview

How many works do you have on AO3?

I’ve only been writing fanfic for a few months and I don’t have any that I’m satisfied with/ brave enough to post yet (hoping to post some soon though). But this is fun so I wanna do it for my WIPs anyways.

Your top 5 stories by kudos/likes:

Can’t do top kudos’d fics but some of my current WIPs, all for bsd, are:

A currently untitled AU where Dazai is the head and solitary member of a large, wealthy estate who is growing increasingly disenchanted with his life. This starts to change when he meets and hires the fiery Chuuya to be his maid.

Treading a fine line - A Phantom Thief!Dazai and Detective!Chuuya AU inspired by the Mayoi cards. Chuuya has no clue the infuriating and elusive thief he’s been chasing for months is also the charming (but still infuriating) man he’s been dating and is slowly falling for.

A currently untitled HiguGin oneshot with little plot, it’s mostly just them falling in love. It takes place during/after ch.41 of the manga where Higuchi first sees Akutagawa with Gin and mistakes her for his girlfriend. And Higuchi’s first thought upon seeing them together is ‘Oh no, she’s hot.’

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I will when I finally post to Ao3, because I love when authors take the time to reply to my comments.

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

I cannot do angsty endings. Angst in the middle is great, but I am very much a ‘happily ever after’ kinda person.

What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

I haven’t finished many fics, but the higugin fic I listed above is two girlies becoming friends and falling in love, so that fits the bill.

Do you write crossovers?

No, I prefer to take characters from one thing and plop them into the world of another thing as an AU.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Nope, I’ve only ever posted my stuff on tumblr and yall are so nice here.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I’ve been dabbling in writing smut, still figuring out what kind I like to write.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Can’t steal what's not there hehe.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not applicable

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Nope, but would like to at some point.

What’s your all-time favorite ship?

Picking one is impossible. As bsd is my current obsession, skk and HiguGin. I also love Joker/Akechi from Persona 5 and Dorian/Inquisitor from Dragon Age Inquisition.

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

My Yosano/Koyo omegaverse AU where they are alpha/alpha. I LOVE the premise, but haven’t got much of a plot to go with it.

What are your writing strengths?

Hmmm, maybe that I spend a lot of time trying to keep my characters in character. I worry a lot about whether what I’m writing is something the character would truly do or say.

What are your writing weaknesses?

I need more descriptive imagery, and to explore the characters' inner thoughts more. As I’ve started writing more, that is something I am actively working to improve. And I need to work on the whole ‘show, don’t tell' thing.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I think it’s fun. I don’t tend to do it myself, as I haven’t really written stuff where people are speaking other languages.

What’s a fandom/ship you haven’t written for yet but want to?

I recently watched Arcane and fell in love with all of the characters. I really want to write something for Vi/Caitlyn, I love them alot. And also Jayce/Viktor.

What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

I’m really liking my head of the house Dazai and Maid Chuuya AU. I’ve been suffering from Maid Chuuya brainrot for a while and it’s so fun to put my angry boy in a pretty maid dress. It’s also the first multi chapter fic I’m attempting, so I’m enjoying that process.

I know we've only interacted like once so no pressure lol, but I know you write fanfic so thought I would tag you @samuraionyourmom

#tag game #cryptid writes

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blairwaldcrf · 1 year ago

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WIP Wednesday

ch. 5 of parallel lines and intricate rituals

He's at one of the local cafes instead of on campus when Pez finally interrupts his brooding. Henry had texted him in a fit of impulsive anger, wanting to plan something petty, because the alternative is to cry over the most infuriating man he's ever met like some lovesick teenager. Maybe before last night that's the option he'd take, but considering the mortifying aftermath of this morning, he's choosing the former. “Just got your text, dearie, and yes I know who Hunter Ashforth is, but he's an utter bore. If you're really trying to get over Alex I have so many better options for you.” “How do you know him?” Pez makes a distasteful sound. “He's the type to read Forbes just so he can latch onto anyone in a higher tax bracket. As I have been mentioned in such articles before, he came sniffing.”

tagging: @takaraphoenix @terrainofheartfelt @strideofpride @hydesjackiespuddinpop @kiwiana-writes @ssmtskw (as always absolutely no pressure)

#writing tag

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stardustbarbarians · 2 years ago

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I'll Just Wipe Off My Neck

Chapter 3 (ch. 1 | ch. 2 | ch. 4)

A Jake Kiszka/Daniel Wagner & Samuel Kiszka/Daniel Wagner Fic

Summary: Nothing can come between brothers. Except when your older brother steals the person he knows you have feelings for.

Tags: pining, unrequited love (maybe), angst

Trigger Warnings: brief mentions of drowning

A/N: Sorry this took me months to update! But, I updated the cover! Title taken from Drop the Guillotine by Peach Pit. Also this chapter is dedicated to @dannythedog as she encouraged me to update this fic. As always, enjoy!

Words: 4.6 k

+++

After his talk with his siblings, he attempted to talk to Jake. However, it had seemed to become increasingly impossible. With each passing hour, Jake and Danny were becoming closer and closer. One place Jake went, Danny would follow and vice versa. It was one of the most infuriating yet painful things for Sam to watch. The pitying looks he kept receiving from Ronnie and Josh weren’t helping at all.

On top of it being practically a hopeless venture, the activities that occurred that day proved to be Sam’s bane. Right after breakfast, Sam’s mom sent her children to the grocery store to get fresh produce for that night’s dinner and Danny tagged along with them. Sam liked to think that it wasn’t intentional, but almost immediately Jake and Daniel split off by themselves to try and find the tomatoes and whatever else they needed while the other three were left to search for the other items.

Sam could hear Danny’s boisterous laugh from aisles over, cackling at whatever Jake was doing. Each time it happened, Sammy just looked over at where the sound came from forlornly, pining after the warm feeling that usually took residence in his chest when he made Danny laugh in such a way. It was replaced with a bitter yet empty remorse.

“Jake has the dullest sense of humor, how can he even be laughing that much?” Sam spat, his grip on the shopping basket so tight, he could actually feel the plastic buckling under his grasp.

Ronnie looked over from checking over the list she was given, scanning her little brother’s body language and feeling the heavy sympathy sinking within her like an anchor in the ocean. “I don’t know how to tell you this, Sammy.”

“I got it,” Josh said to his sister, “usually someone only laughs that much or that loudly when they’re attracted to them,” Josh explained insensitively. The look Sam shot his brother was enough to slaughter ten people.

“Oh, I had no fucking idea! Thank you so much, Joshua!” Sam hissed, trying his absolute hardest not to clock Josh with the basket in his hand. Seemingly guessing Sam’s intentions, Ronnie stepped between her brothers, arms out and facing the youngest.

“Ok, that’s enough. Sam, give me the basket and go wait in the car. I know that this whole thing with Jake is shitty, but you can’t take it out on Josh,” she delegated, holding her palm out so Sam could place the plastic grocery basket into her hand. He did so, the black plastic leaving a dust on his hand as well as angry red marks from how hard he was clutching it earlier.

Without any further words to his siblings, Sam followed his sister’s order and went to go sit in the car. Except, he was locked out. And Jake had the keys.

Angrily kicking the tire, Sam decided to just sit on the roof of the car and wait for everyone there. The metal was burning the skin of his legs that he had crossed in order to fit them comfortably on the car, but it was a far cry from the boiling rage festering under his skin. He truly loathed the way he was reacting to the whole situation, but he just couldn’t help it. He was just so fucking mad. Even though it felt justified, it was only a hollow victory.

All he wanted was for Daniel’s happiness. And even with his hunch that Jake didn’t actually like Danny and was just using him, the evidence disproved that. Sam hung his head, looking at his hands fidgeting in his lap. The only time he had felt this conflicted in his entire life was the moment he realized he was bisexual.

Strangely enough, he was watching Pirates of the Caribbean for about the thousandth time because Jake was able to pick the movie that night. As per usual, he thought Elizabeth was absolutely stunning; who didn’t find Kiera Knightly attractive? Also as was usual for a viewing of this film, Sam admired Will and his dedication to Elizabeth. It was only meant to be a passing joke to get maybe a few laughs from Ronnie or the twins, but it ended up shattering his entire world view.

“If he asked me to, I’d totally go gay for Will.” It was only meant as a joke.

“Y’know, if you say you’d go gay for someone, it typically means that you are gay,” Ronnie piped up while flipping the page of the magazine she was reading. She had said it so casually and unbothered just as if she would have talked about school work she needed to get done. Despite her tone, she had just completely shattered Sam’s world view with one sentence.

Sam had felt the ground shift beneath his feet as that sentence sank its claws into his conscious brain. He couldn’t see his own appearance, but if he had been told that he looked as though all the blood had been drained from his body, he would’ve believed it. His hands felt like TV static, his feet following soon after. He felt cold suddenly, his eyes unable to move from the spot they’d been in since Ronnie had spoken. He didn’t know how long he stayed like that.

“Sam? You ok?” Josh asked, shaking his little brother’s shoulder. That finally roused him from his trance. He looked over at Josh, seeing concern written all over his face.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.” Before anyone could stop him, Sam got up and shakily ran outside. He needed some air; he felt as if he was suffocating.

Am I gay??

The grass was cold underneath his bare feet, the September night air chilling his lungs as his long legs carried him deeper into the wilderness that surrounded his house.

I can’t be- I like girls…

He finally stopped when his arm caught a tree, leaning against it to catch his breath and to support his unstable legs. His hair was hanging down into his eyes, his panting breath visible in the chill of the night.

…right?

Turning over so that he gazed up into the sky, he contemplated why he felt so completely gutted; why he felt like Ronnie was able to see something in his soul that Sam couldn’t even see himself. He’d hoped that the stars would be able to calm him down, but it was cloudy. Regardless, he watched the clouds float across the sky, swirling and dancing into different shapes before his very eyes. He felt his breathing slow as he continued to gaze upon the swelling and dissipating shapes thousands of feet above him. His mind was still racing, but he at least no longer felt like he was going to faint.

Sam had no idea why he was freaking out so much. His parents weren’t the type to kick him out for being gay and his siblings wouldn’t think of him any different, but there was something eating away at the back of his mind that told him he should be worried. But… he didn’t even know if he was gay, so there’s no reason for him to be so worried… right?

“Jesus, there you are! We’ve been calling you for half an hour!” Jake reprimanded, approaching his brother while trying not to trip over any loose sticks that were covered by the vibrant autumn leaves burning with orange and yellow color. His footsteps crashed through the leaves, the loud crunching reminiscent of static.

“Sorry, I just-”

“You can’t just run off like that, you little bastard! We were all worried about you!” Before Sam could answer, Jake pulled him into a tight hug, his head being crushed underneath his big brother’s arms as they embraced. Out of all his family members, Sam expected to be missed the least by Jake. He didn’t know why, it was just what he thought.

“I’m fine! Goddamn; I won’t be for much longer if you keep suffocating me!” Sammy yelled, lightly smacking Jake on the arm. He was finally released, dramatically gasping for air as he pulled away. Jake gave him a look that told him to stop being such a drama queen, but there was a smile threatening to break out on his lips.

“What got you so spooked that you felt the need to run away and live a life of solitude in the woods?” Jake crossed his arms over his chest, leaning against a tree near Sam.

Sam froze up, not wanting to answer that question. How do you casually tell someone that you’re questioning your sexuality?? “Oh. Well-”

“Was it what Ronnie said?”

Once again, Sam froze.

Noticing his brother’s defensive posture, Jake sighed. “I told her not to say anything to you and let you figure it out yourself.”

That caught Sam’s attention. It made about a thousand warning bells go off in his head.

“You… You what?”

Jake’s gaze darted away from Sam’s when he tried to make eye contact. He knew that what he had just admitted was a huge bombshell and implied a lot more than Jake even understood.

“You guys knew?! You-”

Suddenly, Sam was both flabbergasted and angry at his family. He found himself looking at the clouds once again, measuring out his breaths so that he wouldn’t explode on his older brother and say something he regretted. It took a moment, he eventually got to a spot that was calm enough. Jake waited Sammy out; he had no other choice.

“Do mom and dad know?” the youngest eventually asked, refusing to take his eyes off the clouds swelling above him.

Jake made a noise that could’ve been the start to a word, but it sounded as if it got tangled inside his vocal cords. Trying again after clearing his throat and taking a breath, he answered. “Yes. They know.”

It was only three words. They shouldn’t have made tears come to his eyes. Despite all the logic in his brain telling him that crying was irrational, his emotions stubbornly refused to pay attention. He felt ridiculous as the hot tears rolled down his cold cheeks.

“Sam, you know nobody gives a shit, right?”

That was what finally snapped Sam’s restraint. He whipped his head around, his hair nearly whipping his own face as he faced his brother. He felt a rage on his blood that was unfettered, his hands readying for violence as they balled into fists. He clenched his jaw so hard, he was afraid of shattering his teeth.

“Yeah? Well, guess what, asshole?! I DO! I fucking care that you guys have been discussing my sexuality behind my fucking back! Am I nobody now??”

The older brother went to open his mouth thinking that Sam had finished, but he didn’t get to even take a breath before Sam cut him off.

“Do you understand how invasive that is?? Or did you not even care? No, I bet you all played a little game over it. Did you bet money?? Who won? Veronica? Is that why she ‘pushed’ me along?? So she could win the prize?!”

“Samuel!” Jake cried, reminding Sam of how Josh would sound when screaming. “Just calm down, alright? We didn’t bet on your sexuality.”

Jake was holding out his arms in a placiting manner. It was as if he was trying to calm a startled horse; acting calmly but afraid of being violently struck if something went wrong. He tried walking closer to Sam, but he approached very slowly.

“Ok, I’ll admit that we did talk about you behind your back, but it was for a good reason.” Sam felt the disgust and self-preservation surging in his veins as he watched Jake get closer, but he didn’t move.

“Are you gonna start talking?” Sam impatiently snapped after Jake remained quiet for a moment.

“We talked about you because we were trying to discuss how to be supportive of you when you do come out,” he finally explained, running his fingers through his hair with a sigh.

Immediately, that struck Sammy in the heart. He’d gotten mad over them talking about his sexuality when it was for a wholesome reason. Suddenly, he felt awful. Tears pricked his eyes once again and he looked away from his brother.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, hiding his face in his hair. He felt ashamed. How could he think so horribly of his family like that?

“Sam, it’s ok. You don’t-”

“No, you don’t understand! I thought the worst of you guys when all you did was be supportive,” Sam cried into the darkened forest around him. The only response he got was that of the trees shivering from the cold September wind.

It was clear Jake didn’t know how to handle seeing his baby brother cry, so he just stood there awkwardly. He eventually put a hand on Sam’s shoulder as a way of comforting him.

“You’re right; I don’t understand. But I don’t have to understand. My job is just to support you and be there for you,” Jake reassured, the hand on Sam’s shoulder sliding across his back so that he was able to hug Sam.

Knowing neither of them had any appearances to uphold, Sam leaned into his older brother and just let his tears fall. They both stood that way for a moment, the night air causing goosebumps to form on both of their skin. It was Jake who broke the silence.

“We’ll catch a cold out here, let’s go inside.”

Sam tensed up. He didn’t want to face the rest family yet. He himself wasn’t 100% sure that he wasn’t straight. He wasn’t aware that he was actively shaking and he couldn’t blame the temperature.

“You don’t have to see everyone just yet; I’ll handle them,” Jake offered, pulling his brother just that bit closer to him to reassure him.

“But-”

“I won’t mention anything about why you ran. You have my word,” he promised, making sure to look Sam in the eyes.

Sam was reluctant. He knew that Jake was telling the truth, but there also was a part of him that didn’t know who he could trust anymore. He looked deep into his older brother’s eyes, gaging how genuine he was being. Finally, he decided to put his faith in Jake. Maybe he wouldn’t have to go through this by himself after all.

Jake had kept his word. He guided Sam back into their house and dealt with their family as the youngest curled up under his covers in an attempt to rid himself of that dangerous chill that had seeped deep within his body from being outside improperly dressed for the weather. The younger twin managed to deflect all questions about why Sam had run and the subject wasn’t brought up again. Sammy didn’t officially come out to anyone in his family until he told Ronnie a few months later.

Where did that Jake go?

“Hey, princess! Are you deaf?!”

Sam was jolted out of his own thoughts as Jake banged on the hood of the car. There was an amused smile faintly pulling at his mouth when Sam nearly jumped out of his skin and almost fell off the roof of the car.

“What, Jacob?” Sam snapped, annoyance in his veins at the sight of Jake’s smirk. He could feel his hands involuntarily clench into fists; there was also a death glare aimed right at Jake but he didn’t know that.

“Unless you wanna be strapped to the hood like a deer, get the fuck off the car so we can leave.” He looked at Daniel to see his reaction, a smile on Jake’s face at the expense of Sam. To his dismay, Danny was giggling along with Jake.

The anger simmering in his blood intensified tenfold. Underneath it all was a feeling of betrayal.

Without saying a word, Sam climbed off the car and slid into the back. He stayed silent the entire car ride. No one acknowledged him.

+++

The water of the lake glimmered like glitter as the waves caught the blistering sunlight in their undulating waves. They weren’t big enough to have any white caps by any means, but the waves were just enough to rock you and make you feel the need to hold onto anything you could inside the boat. The boat cut through those sparkling mounds like a sharp knife through paper; gliding right across the surface and leaving a white trail behind it like it was leaving bread crumbs in the forest in case it would get lost. The wind was a welcome feeling as it hit Sam’s Sunkissed skin, the watercraft moving too fast for the sluggish heat to touch him. Even though he knew it would be nothing but a fight for him later, he left his hair down and allowed it to get tangled into all kinds of snarls and knots. He faced the bow of the ship, watching as trees and land would approach as they reach a bend in the lake. He wasn’t driving, his mother was. She was watching the water as well as her husband for any direction he might give her.

Danny was attached to the back of the speedboat, grinning widely. He was enjoying himself but he was also gripping onto the handles of the inner tube with a white knuckle grip. Jake was watching with a smile on his face, waving at him and encouraging Daniel to let go of the handles. He had already had his turn on the tube, a towel wrapped around his shoulders and his long hair haphazardly twisted up in a bun.

Danny just kept laughing at Jake’s attempts, shaking his head. The smile never left his face and he was laughing for his entire ride. After about five minutes he signaled Mr. Kiszka to cut the engine so he could get back aboard the boat.

“Alright Sam, do you wanna go next?” Ronnie asked him. There was something she was trying to tell him something with her eyes, but he couldn’t tell what.

“Uhh,” he stalled, still scanning her eyes for her subliminal message, “sure,” he eventually answered.

It was the one she was looking for, apparently. Her eyes glimmered and her smile grew. “Get on, then. What are you waiting for?”

Sam, more than a little confused, climbed into the innertube while Josh held onto the rope to keep the tube from slipping out from under him. Once he was secure, Sam signaled for Josh to shove him off away from the boat and its propeller.

“Danny, why don’t you watch Sam for us?” Ronnie asked. Sam saw Josh look at his sister over her shoulder, a smile on his lips. They had something planned and Sam was suddenly very afraid of being on the water. Danny nodded, his blinding smile gracing his lips and making Sam’s heart stutter momentarily.

“You hear that, Sam? Your life is in my hands!” Daniel yelled across the water, cupping one hand close to his mouth so his voice would project.

“No safer place for it!” Sam called back. He didn’t even realize he had a dopey look to his face, but Josh and Ronnie noticed it.

“Are you good to start?”

Sam sent his best friend a thumbs up. A spike of fear lanced through his chest as he realized that Daniel turned to Ronnie who then told their mother to start. That meant that Ronnie was essentially controlling his mother’s every move. The engine kicked up, the propellers beginning to spin once again. Sammy would never forget the devious look in his sister’s eyes as she waved at him.

He had the right to be nervous. As the ride continued, Sam realized that Josh would periodically distract their father at the same time that Danny would look away to talk to either Jake or Ronnie. He wouldn’t know why until he realized the speed increased all on its own accord. He looked up just in time to see his sister lower her hand from making their signal to speed up at their mother. It was getting harder to hold onto the raft, the waves rocking Sam a considerable amount. He made the signal to slow down, but the only person who saw him was Ronnie. Daniel and Jake were engaged in their own conversation the same as Josh and their dad. The youngest was really starting to get nervous as they approached the bend in the lake, his grip tightening even further as the watercraft began to turn.

It all happened so fast.

Sam slammed into the side of a particularly large wave, sending the tube flying into the air. In a panic, Sam made the vital mistake of letting go of the handles and was launched into the air. He only had a brief second to gasp before he was violently plunged into the rocky waters of the lake. He was disoriented while submerged, unable to find where the surface was. That only made his panic spike as he struggled to emerge his head from the water to breathe. He somehow managed to surface, taking in a huge gasp and removing his hair from his face and eyes. He saw the boat stopped a few yards ahead of him as he tread water, looking around for the innertube that would pull him to the boat. He was able to find it to the left of him, grabbing onto it as he coughed.

Daniel jumped up, pulling the slack rope in and by proxy his best friend. He wore a face of pure concern that Sam noticed as he approached. His hand was warm as Daniel heaved him into the boat, his arms wrapping around Sam and pulling him into a tight hug. Sam wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth and he returned the hug. Maybe he closed his eyes and let himself divulge in the intimacy of the moment, but you can’t fault him for that. Daniel was warm and welcoming; and hell, they were both shirtless so Sam also got to enjoy knowing what Daniel’s bare chest felt like against his own.

“Sammy, I’m so sorry,” Danny rushed, his arms tightening around Sam as he buried his face into the crook of Sam’s neck. “I should’ve been watching.”

Sam’s own arms pulled Daniel in closer, his heart clenching at the wavering voice of his best friend. Despite wanting to tell Danny that yes, he should’ve been watching Sam instead of flirting with his older brother, he bit his tongue. It was a conversation to have after all the high emotions of the moment subsided.

“Sam, are you alright?” Sam heard his father ask. He went to look at his dad and let go of Danny, but the man wouldn’t let go of him.

“I’m alright, I wasn’t under that long. I’m just shaken up, is all,” he answered. He didn’t think it was possible, but he felt Danny’s arms get even tighter around him.

“You were under for nearly half a minute,” Daniel informed him, whispering it into his ear.

At the information, Sam felt his blood turn cold. It hadn’t felt like that long, but in retrospect, maybe it was. He was going to kill Josh and Ronnie for this. They endangered his life all for a stupid fucking-

“Daniel, you take care of him. Let’s go back to shore,” Josh posited, his hand landing on Sam’s shoulder as a way of comfort.

Oh, that’s why they did it

Danny nodded his head, finally detaching from Sam. He felt cold when his best friend let go. Daniel led Sam over to the spot where he was sitting, urging him to sit down and even wrapped his own towel around Sam’s shoulders. He pulled Sam into him, tucking Sam’s head beneath his chin. He kept rubbing his hands up and down Sammy’s arms, occasionally squeezing his arms around his best friend. Sam didn’t do anything, just breathed as Daniel held him.

In fact, no one spoke as Mrs. Kiszka drove the boat to the shore.

Sam would open his eyes every once and a while to check his surroundings, his eyes always landing on Jake. He wasn’t looking at Sam and Danny, instead out at the water behind them. The way his jaw was set tipped Sam off that he was annoyed; more than annoyed. Reveling in the vindication of seeing Jake so sour, Sam smiled and snuggled into Danny a little more. He was so warm and solid. To Sam, he was the very embodiment of summer.

Daniel never left Sam’s side for the rest of the day. Everywhere he turned, his best friend was always within sight. He’d never felt more content in his whole life, his heart feeling ready to burst each time he took in the sight of Daniel’s smile. His mind supplied him with the thought that this is what it would be like if he was dating Daniel. Suddenly, there was a consistent thrumming of pain in his chest each time he shared a look with his roommate.

Jake had tried to get Danny away from Sam on multiple occasions, but it never worked. Daniel was attached to Sam’s hip. Sam guessed he had Josh and Ronnie to thank for that and they both knew. Each time they passed the two best friends, they each gave Sam this look that made him want to shiver. And while he was thoroughly enjoying all this attention from Danny, he still needed to talk to Jake.

While they were out in the hammock, laying side-by-side as they gently swayed back and forth on the temperate summer breeze, that’s when Sam talked to Daniel. “Hey, Daniel.”

Danny lazily hummed in response, shifting his head up to gaze at Sam with an easy smile on his lips. Sammy’s heart thundered in his chest as he lost the ability to breathe momentarily.

“I-I really appreciate you hanging around me and all, but if you don’t mind I gotta talk to Jake about something,” Sam hesitantly hinted, tripping up his words as his brain was filled with thoughts of Daniel and how soft his lips would be if he kissed them.

Sammy felt awful as he watched Danny’s smile falter. “Oh.”

“I’m sorry, but it’s really important,” Sam rushed, a hand coming up to Danny’s curls and petting them absently.

“No, it’s alright. I understand,” Danny reassured, sending Sam a smile as he sat up in the hammock, “I'll go get him for you.”

“Tell him to meet me on the dock please,” Sammy requested, fighting the urge to wrap his arms around Daniel and pull him in for a kiss on the cheek.

Daniel nodded, the hammock shifting as his weight was removed. Sam, watching his best friend enter the house, sighed both out of weariness and contentedness. Shaking his head, he climbed out of the hammock and made the trip down to the dock, captivated by the burning vibrance of the sunset on the water. Mentally, he was preparing to relinquish Daniel over to Jake. he was severing all the ties he could so that it wouldn’t hurt quite so much when he would tell Jake that Daniel was all his and that Sam wouldn’t make any moves.

As he dipped his toes into the water, he waited for his older brother to show. Tears painfully burned his eyes as he prepared his speech. On the breeze, he whispered his goodbye to his best friend, his chest aching Sam he spoke his name. And that was how Jake found him, ready to break some hearts.

+++

Taglist:

@doodle417 @sammykiszkasunusedshoes @jmks-housewife @alwayssotiredbutneverofyou @ageoferin @etoilesnoor @ascendingtostardust @godlygreta @s0livagant @gretavanflowerpower @morganic-goods @baguettejuliette @fan-girl-97 @gaby-gvf @age-of-nyahh @mzbrightside @myownparadise96 @xserenax-13 @sammysvanfeet @strugglingtodoshit @loofypoofy @chalametpwk @seventieswhore @razorbladekiszka @unfortunatelykristin @welightthefire @gretavanfleas @sammiejane22 @satanplayshisfluteforhim @starsasone @mintysammykiszka @writingcold @tearsofbri @teddiie @gardensgatedaisy @sparrowofthedawnsworld @angelbabyyy99 @whollyfreeamongststars @gretaswhore28 @l0rdoffli3s @kay-jordan @lightmyloverry @kenzie18 @gotavansleep @roosterbbradley @freckled-wonder @flower-power-anthem @gabyvanfleet @sarakay-gvf

Taglist Form

#greta van fleet #greta van fic #sam kiszka #samuel francis kiszka #sammy gvf #danny wagner #daniel robert wagner #danny gvf #sam x daniel #sanny gvf #jake x danny #janny gvf #jake kiszka #jake gvf #josh kiszka #josh gvf

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strawwritesfic · 2 years ago

Text

Takeshi Yamamoto x Female!Reader: But Uh-Oh Those Summer Nights [Ch. 3]

Summary: “Summer lovin’ had me a blast / summer lovin’ happened so fast.”

Challenge: “10 Summer Events” by someone on Lunaescence Archives.

Ratings/Warnings/Tags: T (Sexual humor; sexual dialogue; summer vacation; comedy; fluff; eccentric grandparents; Grease references; Takeshi & Hayato & Tsuna; Takeshi & Hayato & Tsuna & Reader; Reborn & Tsuna; Reborn & Reader; Original Character & Reader)

Pairings: Takeshi Yamamoto/Reader

Tag List: @imaginesfire

Master List

Chapter 3: Lemonade Stand

“Hey! Hello! Hey!” You quit jumping up and down to stand with your hands on your hips. “I. Said. Hey!”

“Tch. What do you want?” Hayato finally acknowledged your existence via glaring daggers.

You huffed, scowled up at him, and were infuriated when he didn’t even bat an eye at your ugly expression. Deciding to give him a reason to be annoyed, you took a deep breath before proceeding to speak in the slowest, clearest voice you could muster:

“Tsuna told me to meet him here today, remember?” You made sure to enunciate every syllable in the last word.

“Whatever,” he said.

You folded your arms across your chest and narrowed your eyes. “Jeez, Hayato. It’s not my fault he invites me over more than you.”

“What did you say, woman?” Of course, that got his attention. He whirled around, but you had already hid your grin at finally getting a reaction out of him behind an innocent smile and wide, blinking eyes.

“I said it’s not my fault Tsuna invites me over more than he invites you.”

Hayato let out an audible growl. You could swear you heard him grinding his teeth together as he plunged his hands into his pockets and withdrew several sticks of dynamite.

“The Tenth is only humoring you!” he snapped. “I’m the one he trusts with his life!”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Shut up, woman, or I’ll–”

“Gokudera! [Name]!”

“Tenth!” Hayato said as he spotted the boy in question stepping out of the nearby house with Takeshi in tow. In the blink of an eye, the dynamite vanished. You eyed Hayato suspiciously, but he was too busy grinning at Tsuna to notice.

You sighed and rolled your eyes. Best to leave the matter as it was.

“Hey, [Name],” Takeshi said with a smile. “You look pretty.”

“Ah, um, thanks,” you stammered, hoping the heat you felt in your cheeks wasn’t obvious to everyone else. “Grandma was really excited to hear about the festival. She went a little overboard.”

“She did a nice job!”

“She sure did.” You said nothing about how the “nice job” she’d done involved blackmailing you into not telling them she had bought your festival outfit, not made it herself. Even if you hadn’t asked your grandmother to help you get some birth control pills, your father was more likely to believe her than you. Time for a swift change of subject: “So I’ve never been to one of these thingies. We just go and wander around?”

“That’s about it,” Tsuna answered.

“And at the end there are fireworks!” Takeshi added.

“Or you could take this chance to make some extra money.” A voice came out of nowhere just as an oversized acorn fell onto Tsuna’s head.

“Tsuna rubbed the spot where it had hit him. “Ow!”

“Who said that?” you asked, looking around wildly. It definitely hadn’t been one of the boys, but there was no one else around as far as you could tell.

“If you get money now, you’ll have more to spend for the rest of the summer,” said the same voice. "The mafia always answers the door when opportunity knocks."

“Reborn!” Tsuna shouted.

“Tsuna, why are you talking to a giant acorn?”

“It’s Reborn!”

You frowned and took the nut away from him. Then you held it up and, using the same tone you had used to speak to Hayato earlier, said, “No. This is an acorn.”

“It’s not even the right season for acorns!”

“Very good, Tsuna. A mafia boss needs to be able to see through clever disguises.” The acorn in your hands began to shake before the shell broke, revealing Reborn.

“That was hardly clever,” Tsuna muttered.

“Hey, nice costume!” you said as Reborn leapt from your arms.

“That was good,” Takeshi agreed. “But we didn’t sign up for a stand this year.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” said Reborn.

“Oh great,” Tsuna said. “We have to sell bananas again?”

“Of course not.” Tsuna’s sigh of relief was short-lived. “That stand was already taken. I signed the four of you up for the lemonade stand instead

“Thanks, kid. “We’ll do our best,” said Takeshi.

“And I’ll sell more than this Baseball Idiot!” Hayato said.

“A contest! That’s the best.”

“Great.” Reborn turned to leave. “Don’t forget about Hibari’s fee.”

Then he disappeared as quickly as Hayato’s dynamite, leaving you with Tsuna’s drawn out moan.

******

“Thank you! Come again!”

The seventh costumer in so many minutes left with his glass of lemony goodness, giving you time to wipe your brow before turning to the next one. Because of the unnatural summer heat, your stand was one of the most popular in the area. Some people had been by multiple times, and though that was good for profit, you were beginning to tire out.

“Wow, we’re really doing great!” Takeshi said as he handed off yet another glass. “That’s thirty for me, Gokudera.”

“Ha! I can sell lemonades for the Tenth better than you! I just sold thirty-one!” Hayato said smugly.

“It’s not over yet!”

“Sorry you got roped into this, [Name],” Tsuna said in a low voice, as he ducked down beside you to pour more sugar into several of the plastic cups.

“Don’t worry about it, Tsuna. It’s not your fault. Reborn doesn’t seem like the kind of tutor you can argue with.”

“You’ve got that right.”

“Besides, this Hibari guy is the one you said bites people to death, right? I can’t have him biting my friends, so I’m more than willing to help.”

“Still, selling lemonade isn’t much fun.”

“Well, like Reborn said, we can use the money to have fun later,” you said. For a moment, the conversation was interrupted by another family of costumers. “Oh! I know! We could go to the beach!”

Tsuna cocked his head and looked at you for a moment before allowing a hesitant grin to creep across his face. “Yeah. That sounds nice.”

“So let’s sell the best we can! For the beach!”

“Right!”

******

Reborn lowered his binoculars and lifted one pudgy hand to stroke the lizard perched on the band of his fedora. You could actually motivate Tsuna to do something. That he had certainly not expected. He could tell that you weren’t having a blast, and yet you were sticking with it.

“Hm…” he hummed to himself, still lounging easily on the roof of the chocolate-covered banana stand. Your little ability would indeed come in handy in the family.

But the real test was yet to come.

******

“Whew. Fifteen more minutes!” Takeshi said.

“And then the fireworks?” you asked.

“And then the fireworks!”

“Hey, don’t be slacking off, idiots!” Hayato snapped. “We’re not done yet! I still have to sell ten more to beat Yamamoto!”

Takeshi grinned. “Okay! But I gotta go do the ball throw. I do it every year. I can’t miss out this time!”

“Tch! You go ahead. I’ll beat your record without you here.”

“Great! Hey, Tsuna, I think Gokudera and [Name] can get it from here. Come and watch!”

“But–” Tsuna began.

“Nah, it’s okay, Tsuna. We can handle it,” you said. “Go on ahead with Takeshi.”

“Come on, Tsuna! Before it closes!”

You waved as Takeshi dragged Tsuna away. Only after they’d left did one very important realization dawn on you.

“Um...Hayato?”

“What is it, woman?!”

“We’re kind of out of lemons.”

“What? Then how will I beat that Baseball Idiot?”

“You got me. How about we just close down? No point in staying open if we don’t have any merchandise.”

“No! I will win this! You stay here! I’m going to go get more lemons!”

“In fifteen minutes?”

But he had already vaulted over the counter and disappeared from sight.

“Right then.”

Not that it was difficult to be in charge of the shop. The streets were practically empty because the parade had started, and you were polite enough that the most you got was angry grumbling when you explained that you had nothing left to sell. When there were only about seven minutes left to go, you began to pack up, certain that Hayato would not return with the ingredients in time to defeat Takeshi.

"And where’s the money for this stand, herbivore?”

You turned around, confusion clear on your face. In front of you stood a pretty boy with black hair and silver eyes. Just as you were about to ask him who he was looking for, his red armband of justice caught your eye.

“Oh, you’re Kyoya Hibari, right?” you asked.

He smirked, which you took for a yes.

“I’ve got your money right here.” You fished around for a moment until you found the money you had already set aside.

Kyoya took your offering without further comment. Instead of leave as you expected to him, however, he flipped through the money for half a minute before his eyes darted back to you.

“It looks like you’ve all made quite a bit more money than this.”

“Yeah,” you said. “And that’s what we owe you for lending us the land, right?”

“You owe me a percentage of your wages, herbivore.”

“Okay, seriously, what’s with the herbivore thing? I eat meat, you know?”

“Hn. Perhaps you’d like to be bitten to death?”

“Perhaps you’d like to take the money you actually deserve and leave?” You folded your arms across your chest. “Reborn didn’t say anything about a percentage.”

His eyes widened momentarily. “You know that baby?”

“If the baby you’re talking about is sitting on that stand over there and wearing a suit, then yes.”

“You might be more interesting than I thought,” Kyoya said, with a smile on his face that sent a shiver down your spine. You did your best not to let him onto that little detail, though.

“Gee, thanks,” you said flatly. “Now go away.”

In one second, the counter standing in front of you transformed into a heap of broken wood and fabric. Kyoya glared down at you, tonfa already in hand.

“Meep,” you said.

“And now you owe me for damages, herbivore.”

“What? But you–”

He took a step forward. Nothing you said was going to get you out of this situation. You looked wildly around, spotted the metal box filled with the rest of the money, and you snatched it up. Before you knew it, you were pelting past Kyoya into the crowd. If he tried to follow you, you didn’t slow down to try to find out.

******

“Very good, [Name]. You passed the test.”

“Ahhh!” You jumped, scrambling with the money box. If Kyoya had cornered you with one of his gangster buddies--!

But no. It was Reborn standing right next to you on the wall you’d hid behind.

You stared at him for a moment, and then found your voice: “Test? What test?”

“The test to see if you could join Tsuna’s family.”

“When did I take a test?”

“You got away from Hibari without get hurt,” Reborn explained. “Admittedly you just ran away, but it’s a victory all the same. Braver people than you have died trying to do that.”

You’d need to compartmentalize a lot of that for later. For now, you could only think to ask: “My test was that psycho?”

“Yes.”

“So, wait, let me get this straight: You sent a deranged prefect after me, knowing perfectly well I couldn’t fight, just to see if I would survive the onslaught?”

Reborn smiled in a manner eerily reminiscent of Kyoya. “Pretty much.”

Tsuna was right. That baby was crazy. You took a deep breath to prepare yourself to let him know exactly where he could get off when you were interrupted by a voice screaming your name. Looking up, you saw the three boys rushing up to you.

“[Name]! Are you okay?” Tsuna asked, worry filling his eyes.

“We saw the stand. What happened?” Takeshi asked.

“You better not have got rid of all the customers!” said Hayato.

“Kyoya happened,” you said, then added with a lofty look at the last boy, “And I did not, thank you very much.”

“Wait, so did he--did he take everything?” said Tsuna.

You straightened up with a grin and proudly held out your somewhat heavy prize.

“Nope!” Your smile grew as you saw their incredulous faces. “And now we can really go to the beach!”

“Yeah! Good idea! But first we gotta go see the fireworks!” said Takeshi.

“Oh! Right!” Tsuna said. “Come on, [Name]!”

And just like that, you were part of the family. As you watched the bursts of color overhead, you couldn’t help but feel like this might be the best summer ever...even if it did involve more psychopaths trying to get you killed than usual.

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darsynia · 2 years ago

Text

Trust Fall | Ch 13b

ARC image by Eury Escodero | image by neverfeltbetter on wordpress

Story Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Summary: Tony/OC, ‘terrorists made us fall in love;’ IM1 timeline. In this chapter, Tony finds out that Emory's been taken someone undisclosed. He won't stand for it.

Length: 3,131

Tags (please don’t hesitate to ask!): @starryeyes2000 @raith-way @arrthurpendragon @starksbf @themaradaniels @chickensarentcheap @tiny-anne

Excerpt:

“Turn the plane around.”

Rhodey closes the file and carefully puts it inside the briefcase beside him before he answers. “Tony--”

“I’m serious. We left someone behind.”

“Sit down and buckle up, will you? Stane and your board will be out for blood if you get more hurt on the return flight than your entire time in captivity.”

“Not until you tell me where Emory Autumn is. I’d also like a detailed report of her physical condition and a clear answer about when I can see her.”

He can’t cross his arms, but Tony knows that his frown carries the weight of his personal fortune and considerable influence, especially with Rhodey’s bosses. In retrospect, his friend’s behavior has been bizarre since the moment they stepped foot off of the helicopters. It’s almost as if Rhodes is being influenced by so many different authorities that he’s disengaged his empathy centers as a self-defense mechanism. He needs the sense smacked back into him.

“You in love with this girl?” Rhodes asks. It’s perceptive, but unfair.

Chapter Thirteen: Big Orange Ball

Emory has got to be the most adorable, infuriating woman Tony’s ever spent time around. Though he has to hand it to her, she’s gotten the last word and done it in a way that means her powers are useful to him even when she’s insensate. The canteen is frozen solid, and after he’s rubbed warmth back into her fingers, Tony rips off one of the gauzy flutters of fabric from her outfit and ties it to the thing so he can drape it around his neck. There’s just enough fabric to stop it from feeling too cold, and the condensation moisture feels fantastic.

After some swearing and repositioning, Tony gets Emory’s unconscious body up onto his shoulders like she’s an overgrown child riding piggyback, and starts walking again.

“When you wake up I’m going to figure out some truly inventive ways you can make this up to me,” he tells her.

He can hear her laugh, in his mind. He needs to hear it again for real.

The water around his neck has warmed to his body temperature by the time he hears helicopters. Tony’s relief saps most of the rest of his strength, and he lands on his knees to watch his best friend run towards him.

“How was the ‘Fun-Vee?’” Rhodey asks.

All Tony can do is smile and hug him.

Emory wakes in a bed so comfortable that she’s initially worried that she’s dead and in heaven. When she goes to open her eyes, though, the bright light actually hurts, which doesn’t quite track with that conclusion. She tries to reach up and cover her eyes so she can ease the transition, but she can’t. There’s some kind of strap holding her arm down. She only has a small amount of movement, maybe just enough to prevent her from waking up from the tightness of the restraint? Her mind races-- Is this the cave again, but with a spotlight shining down on her, just like during Tony’s surgery? What kind of surgery would she need? Who could be performing it?

How much time does she have to figure it out?

A machine starts to beep, and Emory almost groans. Her fear has doubled her heart rate, and that has warned her captors.

“Woah, woah, you’re okay,” a woman’s voice says in unaccented English. “You’re okay.” The light goes out, and a cool hand touches her forehead. “Let’s sit you up, all right?”

Emory shakes her head almost on instinct. She doesn’t want her situation to change, she doesn’t want to see where she is. All she wants--

“Tony? Where’s Tony Stark? Is he--”

“He’s safe, you’re safe,” the same voice assures her. There’s the sound of velcro releasing a few seconds before she feels the restraint around her right arm shake, then come free. That’s important, Emory thinks to herself. Someone who uses a wide, long stretch of velcro does it because they don’t want that velcro to come loose easily. She listens for a second, similar sound to no avail. Carefully, her eyes still closed, Emory lifts her right hand with no resistance. She rubs her face with it and moves her left hand lightly, briefly; the strap holding it down stops her from moving far.

Whoever this friendly-sounding woman is, she wants Emory to remain partially restrained.

It’s with that knowledge that Emory opens her eyes.

She’s not in a cave, which is a plus. The room looks ‘hospital adjacent,’ but there are subtle differences that tell her that it’s either military or private. There’s a nurse standing nearby in scrubs, with a nametag reading K. Harris. Her smile is polite but distant, and something about her body language puts Emory’s guard up. The woman seems like she’s prepared for pushback, though, honestly, she should be, considering that one of Emory’s wrists is still tied down.

“Where am I?” Emory asks. Her throat doesn’t hurt and she’s not thirsty, but what has her really concerned is the fact that when she touches her face, her skin isn’t sore. She definitely got sunburned during their escape and subsequent walk through the desert. That sort of thing doesn’t heal quickly. “How long have I been unconscious?” she gasps, inwardly wincing when she realizes she should have kept that question in reserve. It’s a tell, a hint to whoever this ‘K. Harris’ is that Emory’s aware something’s not right.

Her thoughts are caught in a runaway reaction, each conclusion colliding with various fears in her mind, triggering a physical reaction that builds until her skin is barely holding her together. She’s not a person anymore, she’s a loose collection of fears and worst-case scenarios, and the governing conclusion is that something is wrong.

The blonde nurse steps up to the bed and takes her free hand. “I’m your nurse. My name is Kate. You’ve been through a lot, I hear,” she says gently. “Right now you’re in a medical facility. The US forces involved in your rescue had you moved here due to dehydration and a dangerous electrolyte imbalance.” She rolls her eyes up and makes a little face that looks like it’s supposed to read like she’s glossing over a lot of medical terminology that would be hard to explain. “Let’s just say they saw some signs that were concerning, and decided to keep you out for the flight back, pump you full of the good stuff.”

“What day is it?” Emory asks. Nurse Kate’s expression sharpens into a keen sort of interest.

“What day was it when you escaped?” she asks. The sympathetic camaraderie has completely dropped away, probably because Emory hadn’t seemed to buy it anyway.

“Fair enough,” Emory says without answering. “What’s with the restraints?”

Kate offers her a thin smile, letting go of her hand so she can examine the IV pole. To Emory, this reads as a subtle reminder of their power imbalance. She looks more closely at the woman, notes the way she holds herself. Her build reads more like an athlete than a healthcare worker. Is this because Emory’s trained herself to be frightened and suspicious after months in captivity, or are all these subtle signs of danger she’s picking up real?

Out of habit, Emory tries to brush her hair back with her left hand, and all of her self-doubt melts back away.

“There were some anomalies in your blood tests. It’s just a precaution.”

What would Tony do, in this situation? Emory asks herself. The first thing on the list would probably be to make sure he had two hands with which to do the second thing.

“Is that what this is? A precaution?” she asks, yanking upwards with her left hand before seeking out the velcro and tearing it open with her free hand. “Just like the CIA operative in the room with me, and the lack of windows?”

“The CIA doesn’t deal with domestic threats, Miss Autumn,” Fake Nurse Kate Harris says coolly.

Emory hears Tony’s voice in her head. ‘She’s underestimating you.’ She wishes she could have his confidence, but then again, everyone probably does. ‘So FAKE it,’ she hears next. ‘She’s telling on herself. Drop some hints of your own.’

All of this is just her brain’s coping mechanism, she knows, but it’s working. Too bad her fear about what’s going on is blocking any power generation she might have access to via thoughts of Tony.

That’s something she can practice to overcome, if she has to.

“So I went from terrorist hostage to domestic threat in the space of a day or so?” Emory asks, adjusting her pillows and sitting up as best she can. This covers the way she’s trembling, after saying something so provocative. “That doesn’t sound very realistic. Then again, far be it from me to question the experts.” She lifts her chin and folds her hands in her lap. “I demand to speak to whomever’s in charge, please, and to see Mr. Stark.”

‘Nurse Kate’ smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “‘Demand’ is such a strong word for someone in your condition!”

Emory steels herself inside, mentally donning a version of Tony’s hand-made armor. “I don’t think my condition matters all that much. I think what matters is what you believe your condition might be if I don’t get my way.”

It’s a complete bluff. Emory doesn’t have any idea how long it’ll take for her to prompt the kind of energy generation she’d need to fight someone with actual combat skills. As she’d said the words, though, she’d been thinking about Tony’s attitude when the terrorists had come to kill her. Knowing him as she does now, he never would have let them touch her without doing everything possible to fight back, even if it had been hopeless. Before trying that and possibly failing at it, though, he’d fronted, playing on their assumptions.

Agent-Nurse Kate’s reaction confirms Emory’s suspicions; whoever is holding her here knows she’s got some kind of mutation or abilities, and they’re scared of them.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

If Tony had known that the process of being rescued would separate him from Emory for so long, he would have thrown his influence around more to prevent that from happening. It had happened so gradually, in ways that could be attributed to red tape and miscommunication, that by the time he realized that he didn’t actually know where she was , it had been over a day and a half.

The medics in the first chopper had needed space to revive and care for her, so he and Rhodey had taken the second one. After landing, Tony was seen to by a separate medical team who determined his arm would need minor surgery. That had taken him to the next morning, when he had been told that due to her condition (which was not described clearly, in retrospect), Emory’s flight had left for New York already. Rhodey had then told him that the plan was for her to be treated in NYC and the two of them would meet up with her for the flight back to California.

They are over Pennsylvania when he realizes they’ve overshot that plan. They’re on an empty cargo plane, and though there’s a seat empty beside him, Rhodey is on the other side of the fuselage. Tony’s arm is in a sling and hurts like hell, but he unbuckles and walks over. Rhodes looks up from the file he’s been paging through, a wary expression on his face that pisses Tony off, stripping away any politeness.

“Turn the plane around.”

Rhodey closes the file and carefully puts it inside the briefcase beside him before he answers. “Tony--”

“I’m serious. We left someone behind.”

“Sit down and buckle up, will you? Stane and your board will be out for blood if you get more hurt on the return flight than your entire time in captivity.”

“Not until you tell me where Emory Autumn is. I’d also like a detailed report of her physical condition and a clear answer about when I can see her.”

“You in love with this girl?” Rhodes asks. It’s perceptive, but unfair.

“How long was I gone?” Tony demands, holding Rhodey’s gaze with absolutely no self-consciousness. This interrogation is not going to end the way the other man thinks it will.

“Answer the question!”

“You first!”

“Just under three months. Don’t you think the woman deserves a break from anything and anyone that might remind her of what she went through?”

“Come on, Lieutenant Colonel!” Tony snaps. “Of all the people to lecture me on the wisdom of leaving someone behind, it’s you, in your profession? There were three of us in that cave, and only two of us got out. Now you’re trying to tell me I should be fine with half-assing the rest of the rescue because the only other person left might be tired of my face? Bullshit.”

The plane starts to bank and he almost loses his footing. Rhodes reaches out and drags Tony into the seat beside him, reaching across to grab the buckle and slamming the pieces together. It turns out that he isn’t actually buckled either, and the pieces he’d tried to connect were the same. Tony can’t help himself. He cracks up.

“Goddamnit, Tony, can you be serious for once in your miserable life?” Rhodey complains, but he’s struggling to keep a straight face, too.

“You should know by now that the answer is no,” Tony says, batting his hand away and grabbing the correct belt end. Ostentatiously, he holds the two up with his good hand, loosening them so they’re easily visible, and connects them. “Sometimes, two people just fit. You know that. We fit. Doesn’t have to be romantic,” he says after tightening the belt, nudging his friend with his elbow. “Would you want me to shrug and assume you were fine after the military docs got ahold of you?” Reaching across his friend’s lap, Tony grabs the opposite end of his buckle and connects them despite the pain from his arm, grabbing the slack so he can haul on it. Rhodey snatches it free just in time.

“No. But you can’t deny what it looks like.”

Tony looks him straight in the face. “What does it look like?” It’s not that he doesn’t know, but he wants to hear what Rhodey will say. It’ll help him figure out how to frame the PR fallout from his plans.

“‘Tony Stark Can’t Even Get Kidnapped Without a Side Piece,’” Rhodes says, laying out the words with one hand in the air like he’s pitching the article title. Tony winces.

“It wasn’t like that, it--” Tony starts to protest, but then he stops in horrified realization. After what they’d had to pretend, to trick the terrorists into keeping her alive…

“What?”

“Fuck, it was worse. I can’t-- Look, the truth is, she hated me when we were first in there. I thought she was…” he trails off. He’d thought she was beautiful. He’d wanted her. There’s no way to tell this story that doesn’t sound exactly like the salacious headline Rhodey thinks it is. “We both changed our minds. She’s important to me.”

“How important?”

“Rhodey!” He’d never thought of Rhodes as a gossip.

“Listen to me, Tony,” Rhodey says, turning in the seat and reaching out a hand to grip his shoulder. “You’re asking me to stick my neck out, and I need to know exactly how far.”

He doesn’t hesitate to answer, this time. “All the way.”

“You’re--”

“I need her in my life, James,” Tony says. He’s used Rhodey’s given name precious few times in their lives, only ever at deathly serious moments. This is one of them.

Rhodey squeezes his shoulder and reaches down to unbuckle himself. “All I needed to hear.” He gets up, taking the briefcase with him, and heads for the cockpit.

Tony leans back against the wall of the airplane behind him and tips his head up. Instinct tells him that the injections are behind the strange roadblocks to knowing exactly where Emory is, and maybe even Rhodey’s odd behavior. Until someone comes right out and tells him that they know she’s got unexplainable powers, though, he’s keeping them to himself. That means lying to his best friend, even at a moment when he’s asking that friend to put his career on the line to push back against any possible orders regarding Emory Autumn.

He hopes she’s okay. They haven’t spent any time farther than a hundred feet from each other for 88 days, and her absence makes his heart ache. Tony rubs at the skin beside his ARC reactor, through his shirt. He’d done his best to conceal that, too, but he’d told Rhodey and the medics that it was simply a powerful magnet to protect his heart from shrapnel.

Only three people on the planet knew how powerful an energy source it is, and one of those three is now dead. He’s too worried about Emory to be able to properly mourn Yinsen, but that time will come, Tony knows. He shuts his eyes against the slicing guilt of not having been able to protect either of them from undue influence and unreasonable demands.

The next thing Tony knows, Rhodey’s shaking him awake, and they’re landing.

“The man I spoke to in New York says that her plane should have landed by now, and they’re going to send her to meet your vehicle,” his friend whispers in his ear as they get up and wait for the huge rear door to unfold.

“How credible did he sound?” Tony asks.

“Not very,” Rhodey admits.

He sighs. “Great.” As the doors open, Tony can see that there are two people, a man and a woman, standing next to each other in front of one of his cars. The upper door’s slow swing shows that the two are holding hands, lifting more to reveal that they’re looking at each other with no small amount of emotion before the man steps away, moving around the woman to open the driver’s side door and get in.

Tony’s both stunned and oddly comforted by the unexpected scene, but it shakes him enough that Rhodey feels the need to help him walk down the ramp. It doesn’t sting his ego (though he demurs when some actual paramedics walk up with a stretcher), but he regrets leaning into that as an explanation for his momentary physical weakness when he sees Pepper Potts’s face.

“Your eyes are red,” he says sternly, hoping she doesn’t guess that he’d seen her Moment with Happy. “Tears for your long-lost boss?”

Pepper’s smile lifts his spirits. “Tears of joy,” she teases. “I hate job hunting.”

“Yeah, well. Vacation’s over,” he says, starting for the car. Intellectually he knows that Emory won’t be in there, based on Rhodey’s reaction to his question about credibility. That doesn’t make him less anxious to know for sure, though.

Rhodey opens the door for him, and Tony gets in, miraculously not jostling his arm. “Who’s responsible for the delay, do you think? Military? Someone else? Someone who needs Stark Industries on their side?” he asks his friend.

Rhodes sighs. “Someone else is my guess. And yes.”

“Good. Tell them to switch on their TV in about an hour or so.”

Next chapter, Emory wakes up as a new kind of prisoner, and Tony sets out to piss off everyone around him till he gets what he wants.

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