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byuntrash101 · 5 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 · 2 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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marisol-000 · 16 days 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 · 1 year 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 · 13 days 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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badbatchposts · 3 months ago

Text

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!!!

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sorikkung · 2 years ago

Text

what goes on in neverland. ⇝ ch. 5: attitude? right back at you!

word count: 9.2k

pairings: transmasc!reader x Everyone, everyone x everyone (its literally too convoluted for me to try type them out here anymore just see the masterlist for full pairings LOL)

genre: e2l, f2l, smut, fluff and lots of assorted shenanigans. hijinks, if you will

au: battle of the bands!au but make it gay and horny

warnings: lots of manhandling, bondage, mild cnc, edging, overstimulation, usage of vibrators, lots of powerplay (brat taming)

a/n: gonna start putting a/ns at the bottom now so the posts don't get too long!

tags: @honeybyunnies @syunderful @absentcaryatid @mingirn (lmk if you want to be added/removed!)

prev | masterlist | next | character checkpoint!

“Oh, there you ar-“

“You.”

The anger slashed all across Chan’s face dims slightly just at seeing Felix again, and it reminds you of the very same face Eric gives him – hell, even Changbin. It’s no wonder he acts like an entitled brat when it comes down to it, if he’s so used to everyone tripping over their feet to fawn all over his pretty face and stupid freckles, but he’s in for an ice-cold awakening to the fact that not everyone will fall for his charms so easily. No, leaving him high and dry isn’t enough – you need to rub salt in the wound and piss on it.

Chan only gets to look at you with a split-second of surprise before you’re grabbing him by the collar of his half-unbuttoned shirt and yanking him away from his argument with Eric, who says something that sounds mildly appalled but you pay it no mind, instead hyperaware of the daggers Felix glares into your skin from the side. He’s clearly waiting for you to try something, and so is Chan, body fully tense and sizing you up, trying to stand taller to give him more of an angle to look down at you from.

Frankly, you did not think this far ahead.

“What, that eager?” he scoffs, and it’s almost shocking how cocky he sounds so naturally, compared to the non-confrontational flounder he had when you first met and the desperate attempts to be at least relatively civil since, but evidently, he has had enough of holding back. The prospect would be a lot more exciting if you had any sort of game plan, or if you were still toying with him like that first night instead of being as genuinely bothered as you are now.

Though as far as a last-minute game plan goes, pissing Felix off and using his best friend to do it is a pretty damn good one. As good as it’s gonna get, anyway.

“Yeah, actually,” you admit, doing your damn best to make it sound less like an admittance and more of a sarcastic taunt as you buy time to think of a clever enough response, backing him up without much resistance to the nearest wall, shoving his back against it. The way he seems to have absolutely no complaint with being manhandled around and pliantly letting you do so, has something inside you burning up at the seams. “About as eager as you were in that chair at the Prism, blushing and hard for me. Tell me, Chris, do you like being watched?”

Testing the waters, you grab his chin and roughly turn it in Felix’s direction, casting a glance over your shoulder to challenge him before turning back to Chan, who still makes no move against you. He doesn’t even lift a hand to push you off or step away. You lean in right next to his ear, his jaw still firmly in your grasp, “Do you like the thought of him watching you? Is that why you’re letting me touch you like this?”

“No, I just think it’s funny,” he snickers, and you pointedly do not like how smug he sounds when he’s supposed to be easy to fluster. His ears still get tinged with red, but he does a spectacular job acting unbothered and its awfully convincing. “That once again, you’re trying to tease me for being eager when you’re the one who invited me to the show, then up on stage, now this… so, who exactly is the eager one, again?”

If it wasn’t so infuriating, maybe the giggles that followed would be arguably cute, but you’re more focused on the fact that your metaphorical hold on him is very rapidly slipping. Musicality may be one thing, but you’ll be damned if his meek ass beats you in sheer dominant sex appeal, too. You know he’s at least somewhat into you, surely, as he admitted he liked what he saw from the start and willingly showed up at the Prism, so it can’t just be that.

Good god, Bang Christopher Chan might have actually just gone and grown a backbone.

“I don’t know, Chris, I sure haven’t had anyone less than eager be so pliant for me like this, so you tell me.”

“Why do you want me to act up so badly, huh?” He deliberately swerves your obvious provocation of his English name to keep digging at you. “Did you enjoy getting smacked up by Changbin that much? It’s like you’re just dying to be put in your place.”

“Oh, you really think you could do that?”

He shrugs, cocking his head to the side.

“I could fuck around and find out.”

There is not a second of hesitation. The conviction in his voice is as clear as it is stupidly, effortlessly hot – he’s clearly ready to put his money where his mouth is, not just that he could but he would.

You should have given yourself more credit. While it initially seemed like Bang Chan was a difficult man to truly get a rise out of – at least, one that he doesn’t hold back for the sake of being polite – you’re simply just too good at it. Either that, or he isn’t as much of a sweetheart as he appears, which, frankly, would only make things far more entertaining. After all, a provocative asshole repeatedly fighting a backless people pleaser is basically just bullying, but a provocative asshole fighting a provocative asshole? Now that’s a brawl. Meaning you could afford to get a whole lot messier, not limited to the physical kind, and that’s something you haven’t had the chance to do justifiably in a damn long time.

How exciting.

“You could. I think the ‘find out’ part will be a lot more fun for me than for you, though. See, why I’m doing this is obvious and simple – I like playing with my food.” You tilt his head this way and that, just to emphasise his place; your plaything. He can’t forget. Not him too. “I’ve always been the type. Getting under your skin, driving you mad, making things hard for you on purpose – in both meanings of the word, that’s my thing – but you? What does letting me have my way with you, gain you, hm?”

He’s surprisingly quick on the uptake, and you’re starting to realise you may have underestimated him and his wit and will to step up to the challenge in terms of your silly little mind games. He doesn’t take the bait and deny that he is in fact, letting you toy with him – you have half the mind to think he enjoys it, being toyed with. It’s always the leader types who crave to submit – but nothing could have prepared you for the gall of his answer.

“To see how bad you want me.”

Felix and Chan have more in common than you initially thought, you notice. Both try so, so hard to avoid conflict, but when you push them far enough, they show a shocking boldness where they don’t pull their punches. Or maybe – and your work might be cut out for you if it is – maybe they are pulling their punches still, and you’ve only seen the tip of the iceberg. It’s positively maddening, and you don’t even know if he knows just how much, only that you need to take him down a notch.

Pettily, you surge forward like you’re about to kiss him, but right as your lips are about to meet and you feel him crane forward, you pull back, leaving him uselessly floundering in the air for a split second before opening his eyes in confusion.

“To see how bad I want you, hm? Please, you should see how badly I wanted Felix just before. He sure seems thrilled about it, doesn’t he? What did I just tell you about how I like playing with my food, sweetheart?”

“I do have a pretty sweet heart, don’t I?” he muses, his honey voice even sweeter, “Not you, though. You’re too good at bringing out the worst in people.”

When he takes a glance past you back at Felix, though, and sees Felix’s steely gaze staring right back at him while both of your bandmates bicker endlessly around him, your initial suspicion becomes all the more obvious. That last part sounded far too genuine, far less teasing, and you get the feeling he isn’t entirely or even mostly talking about Felix.

He just can’t keep up the nice guy act around you.

“You want to make freckles jealous. Isn’t that right?” His face falters instantly, something that doesn’t slip past you when holding him so close, tells you all you need to know. Putting the pieces together, it makes even more sense in hindsight – what made the Prism so different to that first bumbling encounter he had with you? Felix. It always comes back down to the golden boy, apparently, because Chan would do anything to seem like he’s got his shit together in front of him, and you think that sneaking off with him earlier made Chan more jealous than he’d want to acknowledge. “You’re letting me because he’s watching, and you’re still watching him to see if he gets just as jealous as you do whenever me or Eric pull him away from you, right?”

“God, do you ever shut the fuck u–“

You first feel his hand grab the back of your neck, and then it’s his supple lips crashing into yours, capturing them, taking your breath away. You meet his fervour with just as much in turn, grabbing a fistful of his hair that’s almost crusty with hair spray to style it out of his face, yanking it in a way that’s just too hard to be more pleasurable than painful. It’s all just teeth and tongue and him growling just loud enough for you to hear as he pulls you strongly against him.

The kiss tastes like victory and being right.

Truthfully, you did not think he had it in him to go for it in such a public area like this, but maybe you really do bring out the worst in him. Would he regret this after? How amusingly humiliating it would be for him if he did, though if he didn’t, things would sure get a lot more interesting. You make sure to do what you do best and put on a show, hooking your leg around him and pushing up his poor excuse for a shirt to touch and grab and dig your nails into any flesh that was offered to you, hoping Felix was still watching and soaking in every single detail.

In the end, you aren’t much better than Chan for wanting to make Felix jealous, as you are doing almost the exact same thing, albeit for different reasons. For you, it’s about winning. You want to gloat, add insult to the injury, and make him so hard in the process he’s left taking out his frustration on his own fist. If he comes crawling back, sure you’ll take him, but you definitely will not be gentle about it.

For Chan, he was just a poor fool in love with his best friend, and is probably hoping he’ll want a turn after getting a taste from a distance. Hoping that he’ll realise what he’s missing right before his eyes, and decide he wants it for himself, and Chan will willingly give it to him – he’s probably a boring missionary with the lights off kinda guy and thinks it’s romantic, or something. Were you not with two hands in his hair trying to stick your tongue down his throat, you would’ve chuckled at the thought.

“Are you serious right now?”

While you did expect an interruption, you expected it more from one of them than your own drummer, visibly seething. You break the lip-lock to glare at him back in sheer confusion, but Chan doesn’t stop, glaring at Eric as well while his mouth moves down to your neck. The situation is all too familiar, and you wonder how much detail Felix shared about your last encounter with the others.

“Why wouldn’t I be, Eric? I’m not touching your ex, so what’s the problem?”

“You were just a hot minute ago,” Eric counters, though it’s not like you tried to hide it anyway. You shrug, tugging on Chan’s hair again as he cautiously slows down to encourage him to keep going despite the interference.

“And? If you wanted me to follow the bro code, maybe you shouldn’t’ve suggested we tag team him at the Prism.”

Your bandmate rolls his eyes so hard he probably got a glimpse of his brain. “It’s not about being my ex, they just insulted our band and everything we stand for! Are you seriously going to just stand there and take that cause they’re hot?!”

“Take that? Oh, I’m not the one taking anything, just ask freckles over there,” you snicker, nodding toward him. “This boytoy is about to fuck around and find out.”

The band’s opinions might as well be the only opinions that matter to you at this point, but in this moment you find yourself easily discarding them. Yes, you originally started antagonizing them for Eric’s sake – and it still is a large part that, but especially after the stunt at the Prism, he has no right to tell you who you can or can’t fuck as your friend. Evidently now your competitors have gone from competitors and a bitter ex to straight up enemies in his eyes, and perhaps at least with Felix, yours as well – but there’s no arrangement saying enemies are off-limits, either. In fact, you recall your band agreeing that no one cares who else you sleep with, so long as none of you catch and spread anything.

“Maybe you can fuck around and find out yourself,” Chan pitches in boldly, surprising both of you. He looks forward at Eric through his eyebrows as he hovers over your shoulder still, but you can’t help get the feeling that he is hiding behind you like a shield.

Eric’s eyes nearly pop out of his damn head. He has never liked Chan, not since he dated Felix and certainly not now. He was always very clingy with Felix, which isn’t really a problem on its own, but even you could tell from the way he looks at him that Eric was not exaggerating when he said he was whipped. You recall him ranting about a time where Chan had called Felix his soulmate, which activated just about every possessive bone in Eric’s body, and you couldn’t exactly blame him.

To hear Chan come on to Eric for a change threw you both for a loop.

“Is that an invitation?”

“You wanna get the freckles treatment that bad, huh?” you poke, lightly smacking Chan’s thigh, “Fine by me. I wonder how long you’ll last.”

“No, I’m not doing this,” Eric mutters bitterly, turning around and heading off with a childish wave. He must be thoroughly pissed off to not take him up on the chance to – whatever it is you call what you two did to Felix that made him feel in control again. To prove himself, you suppose. Or even just to tease Chan until he breaks. “Have fun sucking off our nemesis, just don’t expect to come home and have me finish you off when he can’t please you!”

Cheap and immature – but Chan tightens his grip on you at that, bringing his lips next to your ear, asking slowly, cautiously, even – but undoubtedly brimming with anticipation.

“Is that... a challenge?”

“It sure is, hotshot, and you better not disappoint.”

Despite how well Chan has been keeping his cool so far, he lets it slip on the drive home that he was his roommates’ ride back home, yet here he is, driving home without them. He insists they’ll be fine, public transport running all night with a stop right by their house.

Not apartment. House.

It’s a nice house too, and you would’ve thought it belonged to a young family of five at first glance if he hadn’t already revealed he lives there with only ‘the rachas’, who you have deduced from your stalking– or, research, are the two other band members who produce most of their music. You nearly trip over a dozen pairs of shoes in the doorway, the casual reminder that ah, yes, these are very much still men, but cliché as it is, Chan catches and steadies you.

“Whoops. Sorry ‘bout the mess, wasn’t expecting guests- uh, you can take your shoes off if you want.”

Ever the gentleman, you suppose.

“Wow. Smooth,” you deadpan, blinking at him in awe before awkwardly removing your boots and stepping out just that much shorter without them, which Chan definitely notices, so you don’t give him time for a response. “You this charming to all of your hook-ups?”

“Oh shut up,” he grumbles, chucking his shoes off and ushering you towards what’s presumably his bedroom, complete with coloured wall lights setting the room in a homey purple glow, and nerdy anime figurines on his shelves. Cute. “I was giving you a chance to back out in case you were getting second thoughts.”

“Sure you were,” you drawl, unconvinced. Oldest trick in the book, and hardly impressive at that. “Now, are you really going to fuck around and find out, or admit you were all talk and get your ass out for me?”

Now that makes him blush and grin at the same time, finally sauntering over to you and unbuckling his belt. “I don’t get my ass out for just anyone, tough guy, I’m typically more of a top, so I do hope you were ready to find out when you let me fuck around.”

Now that’s a challenge if you ever heard one, and all of a sudden you aren’t sure who exactly is fucking around and finding out anymore. The thrill is exhilarating – little does he know or possibly realise, is that either way, you win. Because he can try put you in your place all he wants; even if he fucks the attitude out of you for a night, you’ll bite back harder as soon as you bounce back, and he can try again, but it’s not really punishment if you enjoy it so much.

He was doomed to fail the moment he brought you home with him.

“You think I need to top you to make you beg, pretty boy? Pff. You know what, I’ll even play nice. I won’t even try to take control for the first... five or so minutes. But I won’t give it to you either, so you’re going to have to take it yourself... or try.”

“You and your games,” he hums, straightening his belt in his hands and turning it over almost in contemplation. You don’t think he’ll actually use it, but you entertain the thought. “You gonna put a timer on me too?”

“Do you want me to? Cause it seems to me like you’re stalling again. Come on, big boy, give it your worst. I imagine you have a lot of anger to take out on me, no?”

Your confident smile stays on your face when he lazily shoves you towards the bed, the back of your legs bumping the mattress, but you don’t even so much as sit on it, giving him a taunting look. Does he really think you are that easy? Does he really think you actually have any plans to cave for him?

“Wow, that was pretty weak.”

“If you want me to be rough with you, tough guy, we’re gonna need a safe word.”

Ooh. Now you like the sound of that.

“Red. Red light, if you prefer something more specific. I’ll say yellow if I’m reaching my limit. Likewise you can say the same, and I sure hope you do – because once I get started, I’m not stopping until you do.”

He bites his lip at the warning; you can just feel the excitement emanating from him in waves. It’s almost more cute than it is threatening, and you already know you’re going to have fun with him.

Ahh, nothing quite like the thrill of a charged rivalry.

“Red light to stop, got it,” he confirms, nodding. “And... nothing else?”

“Nothing else?”

“Like...” he looks down at his belt again, running his hands across it, “just to be totally clear. When you say you’re not stopping until I do say it, does that mean we don’t stop if we say ‘stop,’ only when we say red light?”

You’re sure your face must have just lit up like a goddamn Christmas tree, but you cannot help it. “CNC, huh? Didn’t think you had it in you, but yes, only red light. Though if you think I’m going to whine and plead for you to stop to get your dick hard, you’re going to be quite very disappointed.”

“You really need to learn to shut the fuck up for once.”

Music to your ears, as far as you are concerned. Not just is it a tantalizing promise, but it’s oddly satisfying to hear him say something so directly hostile – you have certainly succeeded in your mission to push his buttons, and now you’re just looking for even more to press.

He pushes you back with more force this time, and when you hold firm, he simply picks you up like you don’t weigh anything and tosses you onto the bed like a ragdoll, climbing over you and pinning you there. You try to grab him to flip the two of you over, but he’s much stronger than Felix was – you can feel it in his grip, his weight, and how easily he manhandles your wrists to either side of your head and keeps them there despite your struggle, and boy, do you struggle.

“Great job shutting me up,” you spit sarcastically, but he just keeps grinning down at you like he’s so thoroughly endeared by whatever he’s seeing. Not angry. Endeared.

Something about that feels so much worse.

“You’re trying so hard right now,” he giggles, fucking giggles at you, “but you can’t overpower me, can’t you?”

That motherfucker is getting off to this.

You relax your muscles then try to surge up with all your strength at once, just like how you overpowered Felix in a similar position, but unlike him, Chan doesn’t budge, arms flexing as they keep you firmly held down. Completely physically at his mercy.

You seriously need to hit the gym.

God, he likes it way too much, you can see the power trip written all over his face, and you can’t let him have it that easy. The show of strength is attractive, sure, but he’ll have to try harder than that to get anything else out of you, and he’s far too pacifistic to really tame you.

“Maybe not physically,” you huff through gritted teeth and a half-smirk, “but that doesn’t mean you’ve won.”

“That’s right, you want me to fuck the attitude out of you too, don’t you?”

If you had been drinking something, you would’ve spat it out all over his face at that – it’s so damn jarring to hear something so crude coming out of his mouth, so confidently, even after all the tension tonight. He’s always stepped up to your challenge, but even when he shed his shyness, there was still a level of politeness to him – or was that restraint?

“I want you to try, hotshot.”

“I’ll give it my best shot, then.”

He finally lets you push him off you, but when you’re both upright in a sitting position, he moves with startling quickness, grabbing both your arms again and pulling them behind your back and twisting you around to face away from him. You thrash about, but he simply shoves your face down into the mattress, grabs his belt again and loops it around one wrist to pull it to the other. You don’t make it easy for him, but eventually he manages to get both wrists tied in his belt, and when you try to slip free, you realise these are no improvised cuffs – he's definitely used his belt like this before.

“You’re a real freak on the inside, aren’t you?” you chuckle, testing the belt cuffs again. They hold steady, chafing against your skin. “It’s always the sweet ones, isn’t it?”

He scoffs, but he hardly seems offended. “That’d imply you’re anything of the sort. You may be a freak but you’re hardly sweet.”

“Oh, but I can be. You simply haven’t earned the privilege, sweetheart.”

And you really can be, the band would attest to that; your mean streak is coupled with the inclination to reward good behaviour when suitable, and you’re sure if you just dangle it in front of him like a carrot on a stick, he’ll walk on hot coals to earn his validation. The ones who pine so hopelessly are always the same like that.

“I don’t think I need it.”

He holds the cuffs in one hand so you can’t escape while the other starts divesting you of your pants, and you’re effectively lost for words. Just how long does he think he can keep this act up? He could barely contain himself back at the venue, all over you as soon as you started provoking him, letting you shove him around like a pathetic little thing.

His grin doesn’t seem so polite anymore.

“I usually feel a little bad when people want me to be rough with them. I don’t want to hurt anyone unless they're really into that, that’s not really how I get my kicks. I’m more of a giver. But you? You make it so easy to just take.”

He doesn’t even fully pull your pants and underwear off, shoving them down only to your knees, then shoves two long fingers inside you, earning him a hiss. Chills go down your spine; he’s serious. You thought he would be too soft for you, but with him manhandling you now, the sinking feeling creeps up on you that your initial judgements of him may in fact be wrong.

“Cause you just love it, don’t you? This is exactly what you wanted from me.” You do. It’s exactly what you wanted but the last thing you expected, and it has you positively reeling. “You’re so fucking wet... I knew you wanted to be put in your place.”

You cast him a glance over your shoulder, raising an eyebrow at him and giving him the most neutral expression you can muster. “You think this is all you? You have no idea what I got up to with your precious little freckled boytoy in the back corridor, do you?”

That hardens his features, pumping his fingers into you with more vigour, but with the angle, the method, and your sheer determination to not give him the satisfaction, it doesn’t do a whole lot. “Go on then, fuck the attitude out of me, if you think you can really do that.”

Something seems to click. He pauses.

“Hm... I don’t think I will.”

You’re washed over with a wave of déjà vu to not that much earlier that night with Felix in that corridor. There’s no way he knew exactly what happened – you may have hinted at it, but there’s no way he knows specifically. There’s no way he’s about to do the exact same thing to you. There’s just no way.

He pulls back, taking his hands off you completely and sitting back on his knees. Observing you. Amused. Endeared.

Fuck.

“You want it so badly. Why should I give it to you? You don’t deserve it.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Backed into a corner, you’re left with two options – give him what he wants, or edge yourself a second time in one night just to keep your pride, which, doesn’t really feel like is still intact when he’s not just using your own trick against you, but also, he just seems far too smug. If you say no now and walk out just like you did with his bandmate, after going with him all the way home and into his bed, you know it’ll reflect more on you than on him, and he knows that.

"You wouldn’t have brought me back here if you didn’t want it badly enough too, smartass, so try again.” It’s a last-ditch attempt at saving face, but it has truth to it – not that you think he will cave in so easily.

As it turns out, you are right.

“You’re a brat,” he deadpans, crossing his arms and giving you a smirk that only tells you that he thinks he’s won. The odds of him thinking correctly are not exactly skewed in your favour. “You want to be put in your place more than I want to do it for you.”

“You know what? Your five minutes are over.”

It’s the only trump card you have, so you turn around and kick your bottoms off completely, climbing into his lap and grinding down on him, feeling just how hard he’s gotten from all the night’s teasing. It’s harder to get the upper hand on him when your hands are tied behind your back, but while you try to slip free of them, he simply laughs at you, grabs your wrist and pulls you off him with such ease it’s humiliating.

“You’re so cute.”

Cute? You’ve never been more enraged at praise before, feeling a red hot rush of anger and god knows what else all at once. Any other day and you’d be teasing him right back, but anything you could possibly say back to that dies on your tongue. The dawning fear that you may have finally bitten off more than you can chew sinks in like a pit in your stomach, directly betrayed by the heat it sends down south at the thought of sweet, pathetic Chan, having his way with you. At the thought of what he’d do to you if you finally caved.

But you don’t need to. You have six other bandmates at home who know your body inside and out, who can probably please you far better than him – if you wanted someone to overpower you and break you, you could always go to Mingi. If you wanted a power struggle and a brat to tame, you could go to Wooyoung. If you wanted a power struggle to lose, you could always go to San or Sunwoo. If you wanted someone who could match your every move and go all night, you could go to Er–

Or... maybe not. Not tonight.

“I’m not cute,” is all you manage to say back, albeit rather weakly, and Chan just coos and ruffles your hair. Perhaps messing with the nice ones wasn’t your smartest move, as each act of affection he shows you seems even more potently menacing and deliberate than the last.

“Cutest thing I’ve ever heard.”

You were so fucking wrong about him.

“Fuck you.”

“Say please?”

You want to kick and scream. He’s positively fucking infuriating, and you want – no, you need him to shut up and get you off before you spontaneously catch fire, but that’s exactly where he wants you and you hate it. But the thought of release, here and now without waiting to get home and deal with Eric’s pissy mood or having to handle it with only the help of your trusty vibrator, is looking more and more appealing with each passing second you spend glaring at his sickeningly pointed smirk.

“I’m going to kill you for this.”

With only the cruellest of gentleness, he brushes stray strands of hair out of your face, gracing you with only that touch and nothing else, his smirk growing into a wide, saccharine smile.

“You can try.”

Your own words, effectively chewed up and spat right back in your face. Fuck.

Humiliating is the only way you can describe it, deeply and thoroughly humiliating, searing at your skin and all your senses, and yet, you still want him. Wooyoung’s humiliation kink suddenly seems to click in that moment, the way that white-hot shame is only making you even more flustered and worked up, but it’s more how frustratingly in-control Chan looks, kneeling in front of you and observing you like this. It’s a good look on him – too good of a look, you think, wanting to wipe it right off his face, but you don’t know how, so you do the only thing you have left.

“...please.”

“What was that?” He leans in closer, smug as can be, cupping a hand around his ear as if he really couldn’t hear you in the complete silence of his room. Bastard.

“I’m not saying it again,” you spit in one last act of defiance, legs wobbling like jelly with the sheer embarrassment of it all. You’ve been provoking him this whole time, and now he gets to tease you? You’re taking this shame with you to the goddamn grave. “Either fuck me like you’ve been wanting to do this whole time, or don’t. I don’t care.”

It’s a lie and you both know it, because if he doesn’t you know you’ll be so pent up that not even your vibrator could save you, but it’s easier to say that than to let him get any smugger than he already is. If your big mouth just sealed your fate, so be it, because there is no going back now.

“I think we both know,” he begins slowly, “that you do care. But it’s okay, I’m not as blatantly mean as you are.”

Mercy? Is he really showing you an act of mercy after so determinedly trying to make you crack? It doesn’t make sense – well, not until you consider that he has been edging himself just as long as he’s been edging you, so you suppose he’s taking the most subtle way he can of caving in. That’s enough for you, you think. You’ll take it.

He pushes you back onto your back, arms somewhat uncomfortably stuck beneath you, but you hardly have it in you to care when he finally touches you, running his hands along your thighs and spreading them open with the firm instruction for you to keep them there. For once, you don’t actually feel like disobeying.

He gets up, taking his time to walk around to his bedside table, and rummage through the drawers. After his expertise in repurposing his belt, you don’t know what to expect him to pull out from there, and based on the way he strokes his chin and stares periodically as he shuffles around, you get the idea he’s not sure yet either. That, or he’s deliberately making you wait, which is probably just as likely.

“Are you more of an external or internal stimulation kinda guy?” he asks thoughtfully, tilting his head at his drawer, and your eyes widen at the question.

“Now why should I tell you that?”

“Uh, to come,” he scoffs back bluntly, “But that’s fine if you want to be stubborn still. Can’t go wrong with both.”

He pulls out a blue rabbit vibrator and some lube, which you’re not sure why he bothers with when you’re already soaking a wet spot onto his sheets, but when he pops the cap open and your nostrils are hit with the scent of vanilla, you have a decent guess.

“You don’t want to fuck me yourself?” You aren’t trying to taunt him this time, genuinely just surprised he’s doing all this without touching himself even once this whole time or even so much as taking off his clothes – you're starting to really believe him when he said he was a giver earlier.

He simply smiles at you, pushing the lubed-up dildo to your hole gently. “What did I say about you not deserving it?”

You shrug the best you can with your bound arms trapped between you and the mattress, at last relaxing to just enjoy the ride. If he wants to deny himself further, you’re not going to work yourself up into a fit over it – at this point, you just want to get off, so as far as you’re concerned, it’s his loss.

“Fine by me. Toys usually feel far better than anything your dick could do, anyway.”

He doesn’t seem to take the bait this time either, and truthfully, you don’t mind – not when it wasn’t even a lie, not really. When he switches it on, immediately turning it up three settings, your body jolts at the vibrations on your clit and inside you, mouth falling open in a silent cry.

“That’s better. Feel good?”

You nod wordlessly as he pushes it in and out of you, the combined sensations rendering you breathless for a long moment while you get used to the onslaught of pleasure enough to form words again. You’d be more embarrassed if you were not so wound up already, but it also helps that it’s just a toy rather than anything he could really brag about. You could probably use that against him later. At least, you hope so.

“Use your words when I talk to you, baby.”

He sounds like a siren, the way he makes that sound like the most beautiful thing you’ve ever heard, body shuddering and eyes rolling back as he turns the toy up one notch more.

“F-Fuck- it feels good! So good,” you gasp, trying to catch your breath while it seems like it’s trying to sprint away from you. It’s so much all at once, and with all the teasing you already endured, you don’t think you will last very long.

He leans over you, swiftly but not hastily kissing down your neck, unbuttoning your shirt to continue kissing down your chest, stopping at the gnarly scar across the underside of your pectorals. You brace yourself for one of the many comments you’ve heard, grabbing your wits about you and sharpening your tongue in preparation, then he breaths out–

“Pretty.”

Pretty? Your words get caught in your throat, his lips coming down to leave feather-light kisses on the scar from one end to the other, and each tiny point of contact feels like electricity crackling through you. Pretty. He just saw the dark, wide scar that speaks loudly of the battles you’ve won, your pride and your pain and your story all in one, and he kisses it and calls it pretty. Like it isn’t horrifying, or grizzly, or even badass or cool, but pretty, as if it’s something delicate, something to be revered.

When he’s supposed to be mad at you.

Each drive of the toy into you accompanied with the gentle worship of his lips has your back arching off the bed, tears springing to the corners of your eyes as he picks up the pace and the high you’ve been craving all night crawls up on you with overwhelming quickness, so close you can taste it on your tongue.

“Oh fuck, I-I’m close–”

Then he stops.

Any cry of protest you were going to make dies on your lips, and instead, the tears of overwhelm that built up in your eyes finally spill over and down your cheeks, your hips instinctively twitching to try and get any sort of feeling once he pulls the toy away from you completely, still buzzing.

“You- You said-”

“I said I’m not as blatantly mean as you are,” he coos, stroking your hair again, his smile down at you with nothing but trouble written all over it. You swallow thickly. “I can be subtler about it, and much, much meaner.”

“You haven’t even seen how mean I can get yet, hotshot,” you jeer, but you’re sure it doesn’t hold much weight with tears on your face and the edge of whininess to your voice.

He doesn’t seem very intimidated, nor does he even grace that with a response, simply pressing the tip of the toy directly at your sensitive clit, but only for a moment before pulling back again, giggling cutely at how your hips keen up for more.

“Fuck you!”

He repeats the teasing motion again, his harmonic giggles filling your ears, and you don’t remember the last time you’ve been this riled up before, that with each touch of the buzzing toy you almost, almost tip over the edge, but you know you don’t want to. You know that if you do, it’ll stop, and you’ll be riding out your orgasm on nothing but air.

Please. You know that’s what he wants to hear. You know that’s all you need to say. And yet, there’s a part of you that still doesn’t want to give him the satisfaction, even though you’re sure he’s already had plenty just stringing you along this far and getting you to say it once, but your pride is too stubborn to say it like you mean it.

“Maybe Eric was right, I might need to get him to make me come after all since you can’t seem to- ah!”

He takes your bait this time, but not in the way you wanted to, pressing the toy hard against your over-sensitive nerve endings, just long enough to watch your body writhe and squirm and try to choke back a cry before he pulls back, but it’s too late. He brought you over the edge and let you fall, whining and shoving your hips up into nothing as your ruined orgasm pulses through you.

“Can’t make you come, huh?”

You haven’t caved in yet. Not fully. You don’t have to, you think, you can endure it and get him to go again and if you concentrate really hard, you can come without him realising, surely–

“What’s your colour?”

You blink quickly, still reeling, then process his question. You didn’t go this far just to call it quits now, not when you haven’t even touched him yet, not when you haven’t even got the chance to see his resolve crumble. You need it, you need to break him, whatever it takes.

“Green.”

“Good boy,” he chuckles darkly, petting your hair again, and now you register it as what it is – a warning. “Because I’m not done with you yet.”

How many times has it been?

You can’t count. You’re not sure if you can even tell up from down. The world is spinning, you’re just caught in its orbit, and just as you try to tense your body to not shake when your high creeps up on you again, it shakes anyway, and Chan pulls back once more.

“You’re so fucking mean!” you scream, thrashing your legs about, but like every other time so far, he just laughs at you, then licks along the shaft of the toy, tasting your essence for himself.

“I can do this all night, you know. The rachas might be back soon, though, and this rabbit only has so much charge, sooo... well, I can’t force you to do anything, no?”

But he can, and you’re both aware of it, that’s precisely what you wanted to see him do, precisely the reason why you clarified the extents of your safe word system, but he’s doing it on purpose. He doesn’t want to take what he wants from you, because that’s exactly what you want him to do. He, just like Felix did, wants to see you beg, and unlike the former, he might just get it.

Please.

You’re at your wits end. More tears trail down your cheeks, to which he softly brushes off with the pad of his thumb, then sucks clean. He’s sick, licking your tears, but he looks fucking godly, the kind of powerful that mortals will clamber over each other tooth and nail just to feel for a day. It defies every preconceived notion you had of the man, but damn if you haven’t always had a thing for a defiant streak and his is giving you a taste of what madness truly feels like.

Please.

“So, what’s it gonna be, tough guy?”

The condescending nickname only makes you want to act out even more, but you’re almost spent and he hasn’t even taken his pants off yet, and you cannot leave his bed without having made a dent in him whatsoever. You refuse.

And so, you beg.

“Please.”

“I can’t hear you–”

“Please!” You cry out, voice ragged from all the strain, “Please, Chan, just let me come already for fuck’s sake you’re such an asshole, just let me cum or I swear I’ll-”

“Um? You were off to a good start baby, but that doesn’t sound like using your manners anymore...”

That cruel, cruel, smile, will follow you into both your wet dreams and your nightmares. You’ve seen what lies behind that polite demeanour now, and were you any less headstrong, you’d decide not to test him again – but you can’t have suffered this for nothing. You can count your losses now, and come at him more prepared next time, because right now, you would do whatever he asks so long as he just. Lets. You. Come.

“Please! Please, please, please let me come! I’m already begging I don’t know what else you want from me, please, Chan!”

He sets the toy aside and you’re almost about to start whining and pleading again or even call yellow when he leans over to his bedside drawer again and this time, grabs a magic wand. Your eyes widen when he plugs it into the wall, realising that if this wand needs a three-prong outlet to power it, you might not feel your legs by the end of this.

“Good boys get rewarded,” he reminds you, undoing his fly and shoving his briefs down just far enough to get it out of the way, finally revealing himself to you in all his glory, hard and leaking for you no doubt from how long he’s been holding himself off for this. He still takes his time fishing a condom out of his pocket, and you just wish he’d hurry up.

“Forget that,” you huff, trying to nudge it away with your knee, “I get tested frequently and got the scoop already, just let me feel you, please.”

“How do you know I don’t have anything?” he teases, stilling his movements, and you groan at how your attempt to hurry him along just dragged it out even longer. “I mean, I don’t, but that’s not really the safest of habits–”

Were you not bound and begging him to fuck you, you’d have socked him in the face already. “Are you going to keep lecturing me or are you going to fuck me already?”

He laughs, tossing the condom aside and moving closer between your legs, collecting your wetness on his tip and hissing at the feeling – you have no doubt he’s beyond sensitive with how worked up he must be, depriving himself all night, and you just cannot wait to see him break loose.

“You’re cute when you’re desperate.”

He sheathes himself fully inside you all at once, filling you up just that much more than the toy did, and the groan that he lets out at you clenching around him is the most euphoric thing you’ve heard all night, even more so than the screams of the crowd at the contest. Loud was not the first word that came to mind when you imagined what Chan would be like as a dominant in bed – not that you’d imagined it prior, or, at least, not for too long, anyway – but it turns out he is full of surprises. He doesn’t hold back the breathy grunts that spill from his lips as he starts to move, and neither do you.

Your arms ache, wrists moist with the sweat trapped between the belt and your skin, but you don’t have it in you to speak up about it, as if he stops or slows down now you think you just might kill him for real. Just as you try to wriggle and slip your hands free to touch yourself, you are forcefully reminded of the toy he grabbed earlier – almost more fitting to call it a tool with the strength of the vibrations suddenly pulsing against you, so intensely it pulls out a moan so loud it borders on a scream.

“Fuck– Chan– too much–!” you gasp, tears welling up in your eyes, but when you blink them away and see Chan just give you a questioning tilt of his head, you know what you have to say to make him slow down.

The word never leaves your lips.

“Too much, huh?” he taunts, snapping his hips even faster and making your toes curl. There’s a gravelly tone to his voice now, no doubt him finally losing his composure now that he is finally having you himself. “Weren’t you begging for this just a moment ago? Don’t you– hah– Don’t you want to come? Fuck, you’re clenching around me so tight like this, baby...”

He’s gone already, you realise, though not like you’re one to talk – you wonder if this is part of why he waited so damn long, but by now you’re not that far behind him, barely hanging on. It’s only when you realise that you are still trying to hold on when he’s already given you permission to come do you finally let go, calling out his name as possibly the most intense orgasm you have ever experienced wracks your body in waves.

“That’s it baby, just like that, fuck, come for me, come.”

You don’t remember the last time you cried this much in bed, but it’s so overwhelming that the tears just keep on falling and your body keeps on writhing, almost trying to pull away, but your wrists are still tightly bound, and Chan does not let up, even for a moment. His groans grow louder, his face beautifully scrunched up in ecstasy, and his grip on your hip tightens with each thrust.

The vibrations on your clit don’t let up either, Chan still holding the wand firmly in place, but you can’t string together a sentence to stop him. You don’t know if you want him to, all you know is that it hurts, but it’s hard to tell where pain ends and pleasure begins, just stars spinning behind your eyelids.

“Ch-Chan,” you whine, physically reeling, “T-Too much...!”

Yellow. It sits on your tongue, simmering, the same way you can almost feel heatwaves emanating from both you and Chan’s bodies, trembling like a leaf, but it doesn’t reach a boiling point, just an inch too shy. You can take it. You can take more. You want it. You need it.

“If it were anyone else,” Chan rasps, leaning down and propping up his free arm next to your head so his face hovers closely over yours, “Anyone else and I’d feel really bad about this.”

Chan proves to be one of the most confusing men you have ever met, because him saying that fills you with equal parts dread, excitement, and the most twisted sense of pride at being the only one to be able to draw out this side of him. To have that much of an effect over him. Either you tell yourself that to cope, or maybe you didn’t completely lose this test of will after all.

All the sweat manages to be enough for you to finally slip your hands free from belt one at a time, grabbing at his broad shoulders to brace yourself–

And then he sets the wand to max.

Your nails meet toned muscle as you dig into his back hard enough to feel the skin breaking, clawing all the way down his back for dear life. Part of you is glad the tool itself is so blaringly loud, because while it doesn’t actually drown you out at all, it at least gives you something else to hear other than your own voice when you make a sound almost foreign to your own ears. You can barely focus on how enticing Chan sounds now, gasping and groaning and hissing at how you feel and releasing inside you, trying to concentrate on the image of him the closest you’ve seen to ruined through the tears that keep welling up in your eyes.

When it finally stops, you feel like you’re falling back down through the atmosphere, picking up speed as you plummet back down to earth, but your landing is cushioned by Chan’s gentle hands and gentle voice, cooing at you softly and scooping you into his arms. He strokes your hair rhythmically, and this time, it’s not a warning – you haven’t processed a single word he has said to you, but you can feel it enough that it’s not a warning.

You feel like you might just break.

“Yellow,” you mumble out loud, at least, but Chan just tuts and cups your face.

“It’s done now, you’re done, it’s okay,” he whispers, kissing your nose, then your forehead, then tucking your head under his chin and just holding you there. Why? “You don’t have to take anymore, okay? You did good, baby. You did good.”

You did good.

You don’t know why hearing that from him makes you dizzy, but you cling to him right back, trying to get a grip on your breathing by syncing it up with the soothing strokes of his palm down your back. It’s such a stark contrast to the man who was just admitting to not feeling bad about pushing you so close to your limit, so different to the Chan who told you that he doesn’t feel like he has to be a giver with you. The Chan that holds you takes nothing and doesn’t let go until you loosen your grip on him first, from damn near falling asleep.

How long you spent there just stuck to him like glue is beyond you, but it feels like hours. He asks before pulling away, if you’re okay, then tells you he’s going to clean you up and returns with wet wipes and a towel to wipe you off. You drowsily let him wipe you down until you hear the front door opening in the distance and flinch, but Chan just hushes you and smooths his hands over your sides until you calm down.

“Don’t worry about them,” he reassures you, “they’ll be going straight to bed, and they sleep like the dead. You’re fine with me.”

You’re not present enough to process how that makes you feel, or to say anything back. Sleep calls, louder this time, and you answer in kind.

a/n: annnd thats a wrap for this eventful night! if you all are enjoying, it'd mean the world to me if you let me know by answering some questions on this (completely anonymous!) google form so i can work on making the series more enjoyable :) but also feel free to go crazy in the tags/reblogs/comments or even hit up my ask box, i'd love to hear any reactions or opinions or even questions you might have about the series. i appreciate u all endlessly regardless 💘 thank u for reading my pride n joy~

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theluckywizard · 1 year ago

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In the Shattering of Things, Ch. 47: Coming Clean

Chapter summary: Dagna has finally arrived to work on cleansing the lyrium remnants in her shoulder, Rose reads Cullen's report on Samson and the Red Templars and invites him to share more off the record, and later blithely surrenders to a probable shellacking in a chess match against him.

Special thanks to @bluewren for helping me sort out Dagna’s red lyrium cleansing method! You’re the best!

Fic summary: Lady Rose Trevelyan's idle, aristocratic life blinks out in a haze of irrelevance when the breach destroys the Conclave. She may be soft and coddled when she joins the Inquisition, but there's a fierceness inside her she's yet to fully recognize. Armed with only a few relevant skills and the mark that makes her a legend, she is thrust onto a path delivering hope where it’s long been scorched away and finds comfort in the grumpy, handsome stick in the mud charged with her protection and training. As she stumbles her way across southern Thedas, she begins to realize she's tangled at the center of machinations she barely understands, and she's not alone in that. Enter Hawke.

Excerpt:

“Check,” he says, a victorious smile breaking across his face.

“Are you always this smug when you’re winning?” I ask him, my king on the run across the board. He answers me with another playful raise of his brow. He’s chasing me down with his Queen and I’m trying to avoid being cornered in a string of turns in quick succession. When at last he traps me, I sigh long, slumping low in my chair and smile back at him.

“I believe the game is mine,” he says, leaning back with an insufferable grin. If this minor spark of indignance weren’t rankling, I might think more about kissing it off his face.

“It’s truly unfair that you can play this and talk at the same time,” I gripe while he resets the board.

“It comes with practice,” he says with a little smile and to anyone else, his self-satisfaction would be infuriating. “If you play enough it doesn’t require as much thought to find the patterns.”

“Well now that we’ve a score to settle, it’s only fair that you lose your shirt to me in a game of Wicked Grace,” I say and even in the firelight I can see his blush. I can’t decide if I intended to be so direct. “At some point.”

“I can’t say I’ve ever played,” he admits. “Gambling was frowned upon by the Chantry.”

“Were you so good at following the rules?”

“I was. To a fault. Following rules, following orders. I suppose I needed it at the time. But I almost lost everything to it,” he says and he purses his lips, troubled by it.

“I’ll teach you then. Since you are no longer bound by the strictures of the Order.”

“I’d like that,” he says, his surprise earnest.

“Me too,” I say and then curse my awkwardness. I venture a little more bravely. “I’m enjoying our trips to the lake in the morning.” He smiles in astonishment as if it weren’t painfully obvious, his eyes wide but dark in this light, lingering on me. He looks back at the board, a little timid.

“Rematch?”

“Seems a little self-serving, don’t you think?” I ask, reorganizing the pieces on the board.

“You have no idea,” he says, the smug lift at the corner of his mouth returning.

“We play again but this time you point out whenever I make a horrific mistake,” I propose. “That way you can have your bloody inevitable win but at least I can learn a thing or two.”

“All right,” he agrees, and I swear I see those dimples of his emerge.

Read the rest here

Read from the Beginning Here

DAFF TAG LIST:

@warpedlegacy @rakshadow @rosella-writes @effelants @bluewren @breninarthur @ar-lath-ma-cully @dreadfutures @ir0n-angel @inquisimer @crackinglamb @theluckywizard @nirikeehan @oxygenforthewicked @exalted-dawn-drabbles @melisusthewee @blarrghe @agentkatie

My own illustration of Cullen x Rose from an earlier chapter. I love them 😍

#cullen x trevelyan #dragon age inquisition #in the shattering of things #rose trevelyan #cullen rutherford #cullenmance #dragon age fanfiction #slow burn #eventual smut #cullen x inquisitor #multiple relationships #complicated relationships #fluff and angst #for the love of god just make out all ready #as if I’m not in charge

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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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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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Too Pretty For War

Chapter 3 (ch. 1 | ch. 2 | ch. 4 | ch. 5 | ch. 6 | ch. 7 | ch. 8 | ch. 9)

A Samuel Kiszka / fem!reader fic

Summary: The only way for Prince Sam to end a war is by marrying the enemy.

Tags: Prince!Sam, war, arranged marriage, enemies to lovers

A/N: I swear I'm sleeping you guys. As always, this serries is dedicated to @safety-sam. Please enjoy! <3

Words: 2.3 k

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The wedding was scheduled in two weeks. It was far too soon in Sam’s opinion. It was all happening much too quickly and it felt as if he could barely catch his breath. Between negotiating terms of peace the neither side seemed unwilling to budge on and planning for his betrothal, Sam couldn’t catch a break. All his time was spent planning and he hardly ever saw anyone besides the diplomats and the event planners. Daniel was there with him as well through it all, but that was only a small comfort. At least he was there to keep all the details in check for Sam. Saying that Olympus Yarrow should be the flora of choice in the war room once was enough embarrassment for a millennia.

She was there as well, his betrothed. But it felt as if she wasn’t. All she did was glare at Sam while they shared the same room, only speaking when spoken to in clipped sentences. Her behavior only managed to get on his nerves, making the prince irate and unpleasant by the end of the day. He wanted to just grab her by the shoulders and demand to know what her problem was, but he wouldn’t dare. If he was to make his marriage work, he needed to give her the benefit of the doubt and at the very least his patience.

In order to wind down from his fiancé’s infuriating and unrelenting hatred of him, Prince Sam would find himself going for a swim in the dazzling blue ocean. Nothing calmed his nerves faster than submerging himself into the salty blue. He could spend hours of his time trying to become one with the fish, swimming until his limbs became exhausted. Even then, he wasn’t likely to leave the water. He was, however, called back to the shore by one of the servants. He only obeyed due to him recognizing her as one of his mother’s.

“Your mother requests your presence, your majesty,” she informed after the prince was handed a rag to dry himself with by one of his guards. The guards weren’t new, but their presence had been doubled upon the news of Jake’s death. At the remembrance of the fresh pain of his big brother’s loss, Sam’s hand gripped the rag in his hand so hard his knuckles bleached of all color. With all that had happened, he has failed to fully process Jake’s passing.

“Inform her that I shall make haste after properly dressing,” he responded, pushing his wet locks out of his face. He squinted his eyes against the afternoon sun, making the moronic move of glancing directly at it; he cursed Apollo for placing it directly in his sightline.

While the maid scurried off to inform his mother, Samuel’s platoon of guards safely - if not annoyingly - escorted him to his room. His manservant, Pythius, busied himself getting the prince dry and presentable for the queen. It took longer than Samuel would have liked, but he did not punish his servant. He knew it was a large task to make him look normal after so long in the briny sea.

Finally presentable in a plain pale blue toga and his long hair casually tied into a low ponytail, the shorter strands that framed his face slipping out and resting against his cheekbones. As he made his way towards his mother’s chambers, who should he run into but Princess Y/N. The woman herself had a heavy guard presence following her, a fact she was irritated by. The two of them froze upon seeing one another, unsure of how to communicate. Every interaction they have shared thus far was formal. This was a very informal encounter, as it so happened.

“Your majesty,” she greeted, barely able to keep the patronizing tone out of her voice.

“Princess,” he responded. He wouldn’t stoop to her level if he could help it. Let her act childish, all it achieved was damage upon her kingdom’s reputation.

“Off to seek counsel with that ‘advisor’ of yours? Or perhaps something more transpires between the two of you behind closed doors,” she tauntingly posited, that nasty glint back in her eye.

“My mother,” the prince sternly corrected through gritted teeth. Unwilling to entertain her further, Samuel pushed past his fiancé and continued the trek to his mother’s chambers. Guess all that stress relief was for naught, after all.

How was he meant to govern a kingdom with that vile woman for the rest of his life when he could barely stand to exist in the same room with her?? Beggars cannot be choosers, however, and he was begging for the option of peace for years.

Sam knocked on the queen’s door upon reaching her chambers, waiting for her signal to enter. She was perched in one of the chairs that overlooked the garden attached to her living quarters, sipping from a wine glass as she watched the birds flutter by. She gave him a loving smile upon noticing him, patting the seat beside her for him to sit in; he did as was commanded of him.

“Hello, mother,” he warmly greeted, placing a kiss on the back of her hand in a sign of his deep affection for the woman. She squeezed his hand in an effort to show her requited love for him.

“My beautiful swan. How goes thee, today?” Her voice was like summer sun, warming Sam up both internally and externally.

He was expecting her to ask that, but he was in no way prepared. He knew he couldn’t lie to her, she would be able to tell. “In truth, horrible.”

His mother cooed in sympathy, offering her son her glass of wine. He accepted it with pleasure before taking a large gulp of the rich liquid.

“What pesters you?” she asked after sending one of her servants to fetch another wine skin and a glass.

“I feel as though I am being pulled in hundreds of directions at once,” he admitted, his fingers rubbing his forehead in an attempt to fend off a headache. His eyes were pinched shut as he leaned an elbow onto his knee.

“I’m afraid that is how life is conducted as the ruler of a kingdom,” she informed, an undertone of remorse in her words as she reached over and tucked one of Sam’s loose strands of hair behind his ear. “What else bothers you, Samuel?”

Before he answered, Sam finished off his glass of wine and sighed. She always could read him too well. “Princess Y/N despises me for reasons I cannot begin to understand. I truthfully do not comprehend her deep hatred of me when we have barely conversed.”

“Oh, swan. You must practice patience with her. You cannot imagine what she must be going through as of late.” The queen continued to stroke her son’s hair. It was something she had been doing to him for his entire life. Sam believes that to be the reason he finds such comfort in someone playing with his hair.

“You speak as if you know,” he muttered, looking down at the wine glass he was twisting between his fingers, watching the small puddle of leftover wine move inside the goblet.

“I do. I was like her, forced to be betrothed to a strange man. She suffers more than I: her betrothed is the enemy.”

When framed like that, Samuel seemed to understand her mood. While he was in a similar situation, he had the security of being in his own palace. She was all alone, save for a few guards and diplomats that traveled with her. From what Sam observed, they were not close.

“You are more wise and empathetic than I, mother,” the prince complimented, leaning into his mother’s touch.

“You harbor those same qualities, swan. You lack years of your life, is all,” she softly reassured, fingers still brushing his hair.

“It has been many years since you have called me ‘swan’.”

The matriarch laughed tenderly, pulling her hand away. “Perhaps I am feeling sentimental as of late.”

Of course she longed for the past. The time Samuel was referred to as ‘swan’ more often than his own name were the times when her family was whole.

“You should attempt to seek out the princess and speak with her.”

Before the prince could protest that he had already tried multiple times, his mother cut him off.

“Informally. Speak with her as if you would to Daniel,” she explained. Sam knew that she meant not to try so hard. With a sigh, he set down his empty glass and placed a goodbye kiss on his mother’s head.

“For you, I will try.”

With that, Sam left to find the princess.

+++

The walk from the queen’s chambers to the guest chambers was a short one, only a few minutes’ distance. He stood in front of the door mentally preparing himself to be met with the sounds of sniffling. Instantly the prince froze up. Was she crying? Should he leave?

Waging a mental war, the prince quietly ordered his guards to stay in their place and then knocked. The sound halted, the princess taken by surprise.

“Enter not, please!” she called, her voice wavering as she spoke. Once again conflicted, Sam contemplated his next action. No matter what he chose, he found that he would feel in the wrong. After a moment of deliberation, he opened the door.

Poking his head inside, he found the princess curled up at the foot of her bed with her head buried in her knees. At hearing him enter, however, her head snapped up. Wet and sorrowful eyes rapidly changed to a fury only felt from violation.

“Begone, you mongrel! I ordered you to stay out!” she yelled, throwing the nearest object weakly in his direction. It was a sandal.

Samuel held his hands up in an act of submission, showing that he meant no ill will. “Princess, please, I beg of you. I mean no harm. I simply wish to converse with you.”

The Spartan princess watched him carefully, her eyes piercing daggers into him. However, she made no move to make him leave. Sam took the opportunity to fully step inside the room, closing the door behind him to offer some privacy.

The silence between them was tense. The prince was clearly intruding on a very vulnerable and low moment for Princess Y/N and they were both aware of that fact. They couldn’t look at one another for longer than a few seconds, looking everywhere else in the room. Despite it being his palace, Samuel felt out of place. He was uncertain of where to be, afraid of taking up too much space. Princess Y/N was aggressively wiping at her eyes, attempting to stop the flow of her tears to no avail. Her face was burning red from embarrassment.

“For stating your business in my presence as conversing, I hear you speak very little,” she sharply pointed out, pulling her knees closer to herself as she rested her arms on them.

“In truth, I had not expected to achieve your audience.” Sam stole a glance at her, wringing his hands as he spoke.

It fell silent again.

“Do you long for home?” Sam timidly attempted, bracing for her to snap at him and throw him out of her quarters. His surprise was great when she did no such thing.

“Terribly,” she whispered barely loud enough for Sam to hear. Her hand came to wipe away a fresh tear.

The prince carefully selected his next words. “I imagine they feel as you do.”

“They sent me here,” she quickly and harshly replied. They do not, she implied.

“I believe it is harmful to make such assumptions about your family’s feelings.” Sam’s heart was pounding. He was trying his hardest to maintain theconversation; it was the longest they’d ever shared.

The princess cold scoffed, turning her head away from her betrothed. Her jaw was clenched and her hands fidgeted with her Chiton. She didn’t believe him.

“I know nothing of your family, but I do not believe them to be as cruel as you interpret them,” he attempted again, slowly sinking to the floor. He figured that if he was on her level physically, perhaps she would not feel the need to be so defensive.

At his words, she looked him dead in the eye. He had to keep himself from flinching. Her tone was just as friding as her gaze.

“What do you know of my family?! All you Athenians think of us Spartans as barbaric brutes with no thoughts in our heads! You run rumors of us claiming we solve all quarrels with violence and are incapable of reason!”

“Those are the thoughts of my father, not I. I share blood with that man, nothing more,” Sam explained in a tone that left no room for interpretation.

She regarded him, a skeptical look in her eye but her anger dissipating.

A silence fell over them once again, but it was significantly less tense than the last one. Heaving a sigh, Sam stood up from his spot from the floor. Princess Y/N’s eyes followed his movement, a look of deep sadness in them.

“I will not bother you any longer. I do not expect you to take up this offer, but you will always find a confidant in me.” They stared at one another for a moment, her big eyes blinking as tears fell down her cheeks.

The prince made for the door, his hand about to pull on the handle when he was interrupted.

“Wait!” Sam halted, looking over his shoulder to see the princess reaching out a hand towards him. “Tell no one of this, I beg.”

She had a desperate look on her face. He understood the request; she had a reputation to uphold as a strong warrior. Taking pity, he gave her a reassuring and genuine smile.

“This moment will not pass these lips,” he promised. And he meant it. This was his chance to earn her trust in him and he intended to keep his word. No one would know of this moment, not even Daniel.

Sam left her chambers feeling slightly better about their whole arrangement. Perhaps there was hope for civility between the two opposing royals after all.

+++

Taglist:

@doodle417 @sammykiszkasunusedshoes @jmks-housewife @ageoferin @alwayssotiredbutneverofyou @etoilesnoor @ascendingtostardust @godlygreta @s0livagant @gretavanflowerpower @morganic-goods @dannythedog @baguettejuliette @fan-girl-97 @gaby-gvf @age-of-nyahh @mzbrightside @myownparadise96 @xserenax-13 @sammysvanfeet @loofypoofy @chalametpwk @seventieswhore @razorbladekiszka @kdarling1 @capturethechaos @unfortunatelykristin @welightthefire @gretavanfleas @sammiejane22 @satanplayshisfluteforhim @starsasone @mintysammykiszka @writingcold @tearsofbri @gretasmokerising @streamofstardust @lunaindigoraven @jakeydoesit @tripthelightfandomtastic @sunfl0wer-power @wingedgardener2000 @gretavanbitches @teddiie @gardensgatedaisy @sparrowofthedawnsworld @angelbabyyy99 @sammysprincess @whollyfreeamongststars @gretaswhore28 @l0rdoffli3s @kay-jordan @lightmyloverry @kenzie18

Taglist Form

#greta van fleet #greta van fic #too pretty for war #sam kiszka #sam kiszka x reader #sam kiszka x y/n #samuel francis kiszka #sammy gvf #danny wagner #daniel robert wagner #danny gvf #jake kiszka #jake gvf #josh kiszka #josh gvf

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strawwritesfic · 1 year 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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