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7wanderingpaws · 4 years

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Always, yours (2)

(gif not mine) - THIS Baek tho..... ㅠ

Warnings: none

Word count: 6.5K

Tags: @geniusloey (please let me know if you want to be un/tagged!)

❤ Enjoy! Please let me know your thoughts! ^^ Have a good start of the week!❤

Also, the new apartment!

Masterlist / story masterlist

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Second - My name is Lee Junho and I will be your trainer

You stood at the entrance of the gym, your palms somehow clammy. You didn’t realize putting on leggings would look this bad. Tears welled up in your eyes when Sukyeong took your hand to yank you inside.

“C’mon, don’t be ridiculous,” she whispered to you and when she managed to pull you inside, she pressed her fisted hand against your back, making you walk ahead. “You look great! You don’t even look like you’ve been pregnant,” she hissed in your ear.

Arguable, you thought right away but decided not to be any more negative. The only good point was you were able to leave home without the triplets. Baekhyun, just as promised, was home by six so you didn’t have to worry about leaving them at the baby corner (it was baby safe, you went to check the place out).

Slightly bowing to the other girls as you walked past, most of them your age or older, you decided to be in the back, far away from the teaching lady. You imagined her being young, and very fit. Her black hair would be shiny and she would have make-up to look perfect. A great way to ruin one’s self-esteem such as yours.

However, a single nudge from Sukyeong and your non-existent self-esteem basically vanished into thin air. Instead, anxiety with a sprinkle of bewitchedness, hit you for in walked a handsome male, around Baekhyun's age, with eyes like that of a cat's; narrow and sharp, his features leveled, nose straight with a pair of plump lips. He had longer dark hair that fell over his forehead in fluffy waves.

“Good evening, ladies!” he announced himself, clapping twice to gain everyone's attention. He didn't have to do it though; more than half of the ladies were already salivating over him, including your best friend. When the trainer saw wide eyes on him, he let out a boyish chuckle and this time, you couldn't escape the charm either. He was incredibly handsome. “My name is Lee Junho and I will be your trainer! I have some experience with working out,” he joked and, of course, everyone laughed louder than it was necessary. His toned chest and arms spoke volumes about his experience. “Please, let me know in advance if there are any injuries you have so that I can adjust the exercises to you accordingly. Do you have any questions?” He looked around with interest, his eyes skimming through any possible curious hand.

“Should I tell him that I'm…. you know,” you mumbled to Sukyeong but before you could finish your sentence, you shook your head, stopping yourself. It will be alright, you thought. As always, you made sure to feed the triplets properly and pump your breasts, so you expected no problems with the excessive breast milk leaking over your t-shirt this time.

Just like that, you found yourself jumping up and down as the exercise started. Lee Junho seemed to be a great professional, always adjusting everyone's postures to ensure full effectiveness. With the help of the deafening pop music, everything seemed suddenly possible. Until it came to you and until he lingered more by your side than the rest of the girls.

It was to be expected, but you still felt stupid. You couldn't do the push-ups like all the other girls who already had a great body. Meanwhile, hidden under Baekhyun's huge black shirt that you stole, was your still-fading baby bump. It was difficult to even try to get your shoulders off the mat as you did sit-ups; you were heaving loudly, sweat dripping down your face.

“Push just a little bit more,” murmured Junho with an encouraging smile as he put his hand between your shoulder blades, helping you sit up higher. It was a good support, but your abs were on fire, numbing everything that was made out of your core. “That's right, keep doing it like that.”

You hummed, and tried a few more times before giving up. Sukyeong wasn't that much better than you, but she still could sit up. She flashed you a small smile and mouthed: “Are you okay?”

You nodded, resting your head on the mat, trying to breathe through the workout.

As you moved through various core strengthening exercises, you started to feel it. The hurting in your breasts, the kind of feeling that you tried to prevent from happening at all costs. The closest you could compare it to was rocks.

You felt yourself panicking when you looked at Junho who was paying attention to someone else. If you wouldn't leave now, it would be too late.

“I'll be back in a minute,” you told Sukyeong, scrambling up to shaky legs. Baekhyun's shirt was getting wet now, your sports bra quickly becoming a bucket full of milk. Making few quick steps, you walked over to the door when Junho spoke up:

“Oi, are you okay? Are you sick?” He came running to you by the entrance door.

You shook your head with a polite smile. “I really need to use the bathroom.”

“Oh, we will be finishing up soon,” he said, giving you a look. Right, kids in kindergarten were learning how to hold their pee in, not how to hold back the breast milk.

You were embarrassed, but you still said: “Well, I ate something bad and this won't wait any longer-” you pushed the door open and jogged for the toilets, already pushing up the soaked shirt. Once safely inside, you yanked down the sports bra and let the milk out. You exhaled a loud sigh of relief. You knew this would cause a little mess as it was several streaks that were leaking, the milk staining everything around.

Chewing your lips, you strained your ears when you heard commotion outside, the class most probably finished. You'd been in the toilets for at least ten minutes now, so you expected Sukyeong to come search for you soon.

There was a hasty knock on the door and you were fast to hide your chest back under the shirt. Then you heard your best friend's whisper: “It's just me! Can I come in?”

You were fast to give her the permission. She closed the door behind her and you took out your breasts again, the milk once again spraying everywhere. Sukyeong scratched her head, clueless. “I have a spare shirt. Here,” she handed you the white thermal-shirt.

You shook your head. “No, I cannot wear this. It'll stain and I bet the shirt was expensive,” you bit your lip. Before she could protest with a conflicted gaze, you just waved your hand nonchalantly. “I'll be done soon. It's already much better. Besides, I don't think I could push it over my chest. I'm huge,” you admitted quietly, a little embarrassed. You trusted Sukyeong and she would never joke or judge but it was still an uncomfortable situation only Baekhyun was allowed to witness. When you saw she wasn't convinced, you added with a smile: “Baekhyun gave me a sweater before coming here, so I will wear that. Go and get our stuff? I'll be out in a minute.”

“Will you be fine?” she said, her eyes widening in small fear at the sight of the milk.

“Of course,” you winked. She gave you a look over and when she was convinced, she turned, leaving you in the toilets alone.

Just a few minutes later and the flow finally calmed down. You took some toilet paper, wiping yourself up before cleaning up the surroundings. You were drained and you didn't even finish the workout.

When you were sure everything looked decent, you finally walked back to the gym. It was empty; only some distant sounds of chattering coming your way. Sukyeong was in the corner, entertaining the trainer.

“Are you okay?” he asked you when you walked over to them, taking your bag and your phone along the way. Junho didn't look necessarily worried, but he seemed to care enough about his clients which you found good enough.

“Yes,” you smiled half-heartedly. “Thank you.”

Sukyeong bowed to Junho. “Then we will take our leave!”

“Alright, it was nice meeting you. I will see you on Thursday, ladies,” he pressed a smile, bowing politely. He kept following you with his sharp eyes and, unconsciously, you became shy under his scrutiny. There was something happening whenever your eyes met and you weren't sure what it was. Maybe you were just making it up because he was handsome and you wanted to believe he had an eye for you. It would make you feel like you could have been special.

“Goodness, what a hotshot,” murmured Sukyeong to you as the both of you left the premises of the gym. “He is so smart!”

You sighed, quickly putting on the sweater Baekhyun pushed into your hand before leaving the apartment. You will be sweaty, make sure to wear this once you're done, he would tell you. “You managed to get something out of him?”

“Doesn't seem to be here just to eye the girls,”she informed you proudly as she slugged her bag over her shoulder. “So that is a plus point!”

She led the both of you to the carpark, her shiny small Kia awaiting you near the exit. It was a good idea to park it nearby as you didn't have to walk more on your wobbly legs. Once seated inside, you threw your bag on the backseat and sighed, leaning your head back against the headrest.

“Are you alright?” asked Sukyeong, uncertainty evident in her eyes as she placed her bag behind her seat and turned back front, pressing the button to bring the car to life.

You nodded, though she couldn't see you. “I'm okay, thank you.” You hesitated. “Maybe a little embarrassed,” you finally admitted, staring out of your window to see other women entering their cars. Many of them owned Mercedes' or BMWs and you instantly wondered how they were able to afford such a car at such a young age.

“Oh, dear, no.” Sukyeong was fast to turn to grab your thigh, trying to bring your diverted attention to her. “There is nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“I literally told him if I don't leave I will poo myself,” you whined and turned to her dramatically.

Sukyeong was about to refute but she stopped, surprised at your words. “Wait, you told him that?”

You nodded, exasperated. “I told the handsome dude I can't keep it in if he won't let me leave. I couldn't possibly tell him: yo, move or else I'll shoot you down with my breastmilk now, could I?”

She burst out into a huge laughter, her nose scrunching up in the process. “Well, if you say it like that!”

Both of you were now laughing, though you were more on the desperate side. You really made an idiot out of yourself while still having the issue of controlling your milk.

“You know, I think it would be good to tease Baekhyun a little bit. I told you that you shouldn’t let him prioritize his job. If he does it you need to show him you aren’t someone he can take for granted.”

Your joyful smile slowly melted into a frown. “Baekhyun never took me for granted and you also know it.”

“Of course I know it! I’d trust Baekhyun with my life,” she insisted quickly and started driving out of the car park and out to the busy Seoul traffic. It was incredible how this city never slept. “I’m just trying to say that a little bit of teasing never hurt anyone. You’re now a mother and you have three kids together.”

Small silence took over the car. You were looking out of the window, enjoying the unusual luxury of being in a car instead of a packed bus while your mind was roaming over what your friend said. “So, you say our relationship can become rusty? He would lose interest after some time now that I’m not so... fresh?”

Sukyeong breathed out a small laugh at the choice of your words. “I doubt Baekhyun would get tired of you. Ever. It is true that men see their women differently after birthing their children.” She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel, thinking over what to tell you. “You’re only twenty-three —you’re too young, so make sure to let him know you’re still full of life and can become hard to tie down.”

You let out a doubtful snort but you felt uneasy at the topic. It never occurred to you that one day you and Baekhyun wouldn’t be together. It never occurred to you that you could lose love for each other because both of your interests would change and he would seek consolation from another partner and maybe you would stay alone. This wasn’t a new thought to you; Jiyoung, Baekhyun’s ex colleague, was challenging you more than enough in the past but even then you knew Baekhyun wasn’t interested in her. What if he found someone that actually piqued his interest?

You shook your head quickly, rejecting the ugly idea. “You city girls have a very interesting way of thinking.”

“Just do it.” Sukyeong looked at you with excited eyes when she stopped at another red light. “Mention a hot trainer and see what’ll happen,” she told you wickedly, giggling.

Upon arriving at home, you were met with Baekhyun's high-pitched talk. It calmed you down right away, and you felt like in safe haven after the small fight in the gym.

“I'm home,” you sing-sang, dropping the bag down by the entrance and taking off the sweater.

Baekhyun faked a gasp. “Who is it, Jun? Is it mummy? Let's check it out quickly!” And within a second, he appeared with Jun hanging off his connected arms, pretending he was on an airplane. Even though you trusted Baekhyun with keeping the baby safe in his arms, it gave you a little heart attack. Besides, triplets were still too small for that. “Look, Jun, it's mummy!” he exclaimed while looking over his shoulder, most probably checking Juna and Junhee. “Welcome home, babe,” he told you with a leveled voice, looking at you now. He adjusted Jun in his arms, having his head on his shoulder while you took off your shoes, watching him.

Your husband looked so incredibly soft. His hair was now covering his forehead, somehow making his eyes look much more puppy-eyed, just like the baby he was holding. Despite being so wide and incredibly manly, you had the urge to squeeze his cheeks like you would do to your triplets, because he was so adorable, so loveable. He was wearing his huge white T-shirt and black pants and no socks; the typical look when he was home, but for some reason, after going through challenges in the gym, you felt like he was much more inviting and cuddly, providing you comfort by simply being him, by simply staring at you with those soft eyes. He was so Baekhyun.

“I see you are having a good time,” you noted with a smile and stood on your tiptoes when Baekhyun demanded a kiss with puckered lips like a little duck. You made sure to cradle Jun’s tiny butt, your expert hand immediately knowing he had a change of the nappy recently.

“Now it's much better,” he muttered, kissing you with a loud smooch. “How was the work-out?” he asked when he straightened up, rocking Jun exaggeratedly in his arms. Just then, his eyes dropped to your chest, the white stains very much obvious on the black textile. “Shit, did you leak?”

You shrugged, not wanting to talk about it as you walked past him to greet your daughters that were on the playmat with their little toys. “I should have known better.” Baekhyun followed you, watching as you sat down and kissed the two baby girls. “Time to change the nappies over here, hm?” Your voice was light as you touched the babies’ butts but you were surprised when they were all clean, too. Baekhyun must have worked hard during your absence.

“Sweetheart, we should go to the doctor's,” Baekhyun told you as he sat down on the couch in front of the play mat. Jun squirmed in his arms, whimpering, so he laid him gently on the blanket that was splayed next to him. “I don't like this and they could solve the issue.”

You took Junhee's tiny feet into your hands, massaging them, the skin incredibly smooth under your palm. “I'm scared they will do something that will prevent me from feeding them.”

“You know it doesn't matter whether you feed them breast milk or we give them formula. You breastfed long enough anyway. This is about your well-being, too.”

“I just want them to be close to me as much as possible,” you said, lowering your voice. It made you remember how you didn’t even think much about feeding your kids while being pregnant, and now here you were, reluctant to let go of breastfeeding. Three babies was a lot of hard work, but it was always your dream to be a mother. You wanted to make sure you really didn’t have a choice before you would make a decision. Baekhyun was correct, but you still believed the longer you were with the babies the stronger would be your bond with them. “It's a good way for them to be connected to me.”

Baekhyun observed you for a moment before checking Jun whose feet were up in the air, his tiny hands coming up to pat on them clumsily. He was a little baby ball discovering all the possible movements his body was slowly able to make. “I understand. I just want you to know that it isn't a bad thing if you stop doing it. Some women can't breastfeed at all.”

“Because they are unable to, Baekhyun.” The way your voice had an edge to it made you look up at him to catch a little panic in his eyes. He didn't want to make you upset and you felt guilty right away. “I am perfectly able to provide them with milk, but I overproduce and yes it makes my life a little more difficult but I don’t want to lose this opportunity. I'd rather not go.”

“Okay, as you wish,” he gave up quickly, not wanting to argue. He understood why you would be upset. And usually, he would try to be more persistent since he didn’t want you to suffer but he could sense your damp mood; the workout most probably gave you a harder time, he guessed. And, of course, he, as a man, couldn't comprehend completely what you were going through when your milk was flowing from you like an unstoppable mountain stream.

You hummed and stood up, your ankles sighing at the movement. “I'll go wash up.”

Baekhyun followed you with his gaze until you disappeared in the corridor that led towards your shared bedroom. He looked back down at Jun and then at the girls on the mat. “Well, what shall we do to make mummy feel better?” he pouted at them.

Small baby gurgles came back to him in response. “Right, I agree,” he replied thoughtfully. He was quiet for a moment, only hearing the distant sounds from the TV and your movements in the bedroom. Checking the clock on the opposite wall, he was fast to jump up. “Now, you naughty kids, it’s way past your bedtime and you still don’t sleep! Let’s get you all to the crib before mommy comes back!”

Since the triplets were calm, he knew they would fall asleep soon. He made sure their energy would be somehow drained while you were away although he was sure he used up more energy than they did. It was difficult to work with infants and he didn’t know how you managed it on a daily basis nonstop. Another reason for him to admire and respect you.

“I’ll see you whenever you wake us up,” he told them when he put Jun, the last baby, in the crib. He laughed gently to himself and observed his offsprings with a tender gaze. He had to admit that Jun looked like him when he was a baby. Junhee was definitely your splitting image while Juna seemed to be in the middle, though her eyes were Baekhyun’s, too. She was the perfect mix of you and him.

He wondered which one of them would love hapkido. He wondered which one of them would be smart in mathematics like you were. Which one of them would hate foreign languages and cucumbers? Which one of them would cry the most in the kindergarten and which one of them would always be the quiet one? Baekhyun hoped and wished that the triplets would have a special bond that would always protect them from getting hurt by other people. After all, the world kept getting harsher and harsher day by day.

“I’ll always be there for you,” he whispered just when Junhee’s eyes closed, her small mouth hanging open when she let go of the pacifier. “You’ll always have me and mummy to protect you. Always.”

You took your time in the bathroom. Muscles you didn't know existed were aching, so you took the luxury to let yourself be soaked in warm water a little bit longer. There was a soft knock on the door and you quickly let Baekhyun enter.

He was expressionless but when you locked eyes as he closed the door with his back, he pulled a smile meant only for you. “Do you feel better?” he asked quietly, setting the monitor on the sink before walking up to you. He leaned down, pecking you on the top of your head.

“Much better,” you sighed, closing your eyes when you felt his hand slide down your cheek and to your neck. Since he brought in the monitor with him, you took it he managed to put the babies to sleep. It only made you feel worse that you still could become irritated at such a good husband like Baekhyun. “Sorry I snapped at you.”

“No,” he was fast to mutter against your hair, his thumb grazing the skin on your jaw. “I understand. I am just worried, is all.”

“I know, and I don't appreciate it enough,” you replied and Baekhyun pulled away to look down at you with crinkled eyes.

“You do much more, sweetheart. Don't be so harsh on yourself, hm?” He let go of you and slid down next to the bathtub, his back against it. You had the urge to splash him with water but you decided you would have a water fight another day. “Besides, you went to work out after a full day of mothering. It's only natural you'd be frustrated.”

“If only you couldn't read me so well.”

Baekhyun smiled to himself. “How could I tease you if I wouldn't know my wife so well, hm?”

He heard you let out a small chuckle from behind him. “Life would be so much easier.”

Your husband laughed and turned his head to look at you over his shoulder. Water was just barely covering your chest, your cheeks were rosy from the heat and your baby hair was curled up from the humidity. Goodness, he couldn't stop staring. You looked like an angel.

“What?” you murmured, his intense gaze making you pink even more.

“Nothing,” was his breathy reply. “Just admiring my gorgeous little lady.”

With a shy smile, you sat up, causing small waves in the bathtub, and you pressed your lips to his pouty ones. His eyes widened playfully and when you wanted to pull back, he chased your lips, grounding you. You smiled, bringing your wet hand up to his cheek, but he didn't react to the wetness, simply prolonging the innocent kiss. “You know,” you told him when you separated, your noses still touching. Baekhyun hummed in interest, watching your lips before he flickered his orbs up to yours. “There was a really hot guy in the gym.”

Baekhyun blinked a couple of times, letting your words sink in and he was fast to withdraw from you. “What?”

You giggled, satisfied at his reaction. It wasn't that bad to listen to Sukyeong's offer after all. “Yes, he was the one leading the class today.”

“A hot guy leading a class for women?” he repeated, surprised.

Now then, why did he ever expect you to just not pay attention to other males? You never did, or so he thought, but he was still taken aback. The way your eyes sparkled in mischief was an obvious sign that you were just trying to rile him up for whatever reason, yet he still felt a little protective. Did that man look at you, too?!

“Why, you don't like it?” you quipped, poking your tongue out to him.

He observed you giggling, your eyes crinkled up when you took note of his disapproval. Something moved within him. “You want me to like it?”

You sighed lovingly and booped his nose. “I want you to like me, silly. I’m just playing around.”

Baekhyun huffed, offended, and spoke in a prominent pout: “I don't like it, young lady. You have me. You have triplets with me. I love you. And you love me.”

“That, I do.” Bringing up in the air your left hand, you looked how the band on your fourth finger caught the light in the bathroom. “And here is the proof.”

He was looking up at your hand and he joined it with his, his own ring shining just like yours. He enveloped his fingers around yours gently. “Why would you try to make oppa worried about such things?” murmured Baekhyun in wonder as he stood up and towered over you. He let go of your hand and leaned further down so his face was close to yours, his long neck chain swaying in the air between you. “Oppa doesn't like sharing, but you know that, right?”

You nodded, awaiting his next words. Except, it wasn't words. Baekhyun surprised you by swiftly lowering his hands into the warm water to grab a hold of you under your knees and waist. You squealed, suddenly scared you might slip out of his grip so you quickly circled your arms around his neck, water splashing everywhere. But seeing his biceps flexing you knew he was much better than Lee Junho or any other trainer there was.

“I'm naked and wet, Baekhyun!” you screamed and Baekhyun laughed loudly, enjoying your little panic as he moved you out of the bathtub, bringing you over where the sink was.

“Hmm, exactly,” he hummed in appreciation, his eyes twinkled and you quickly hid your face in his neck, embarrassed. “You don't get to play with oppa's heart like that and not get punished, baby girl.”

Despite the excitement, he put you down, more worried about you catching a cold than teasing the hell out of you. As soon as your legs were on the floor, you slapped his chest, making the male groan. “You silly! You could have dropped me!”

“I would never,” he denied quietly, pecking you sweetly and reaching for the towel that was hanging next to the bathtub. “And don't forget,” he reminded, wrapping the towel around your shoulders, making sure it was catching every drop of water, “that you still have a punishment list from when you were pregnant. Don't think I forgot.”

Your eyes widened in horror and you frowned at him like a little kid though secretly you really thought he had forgotten. “You are being so mean right now!”

Baekhyun only smirked and tapped your naked bum gently as he brought your body closer. “You asked for it. From now on, I won't hold back anymore,” he murmured, brushing your hair behind your ear. It tickled.

There were feelings of excitement, eagerness and curiosity bubbling in your tummy, or maybe those were just the butterflies Baekhyun awakened whenever he did something heart-fluttering and challenging to your relationship. It was a long time since you two had been together, but finding ways to ignite the passion and desire in the both of you was Baekhyun's specialty. And you would try to make it yours, now that you seemed to find a weak spot of his.

“You can start by kissing me as a thank you for bringing you out of the tub,” he said when you didn't reply.

You scoffed and re-adjusted the towel, bringing it around your body. It made you feel conscious that you were completely naked in front of him, although Baekhyun didn't even pay attention. His own clothes were wet since he brought you out of the water. The white tshirt was stuck to his stomach, perfectly outlining his muscles.

Baekhyun pursed his lips when you didn't listen. You turned to walk out of the bathroom but he was fast to grab your wrist, turning you back to him. “I said, give me a kiss.”

“No!” You shook your head resolutely, sticking your lower lip out as you frowned, hoping to make him agitated.

The excitement in you only doubled when Baekhyun quirked an eyebrow, leaning his head closer to yours and turning his smooth cheek towards you as he tapped his long index finger on it. “C’mon, a peck for oppa.”

His other hand sneakily wandered to your side to tickle you and you were fast to giggle crazily, pushing his hand away. “Okay, okay,” you said quickly and pressed your lips to his awaiting cheek. He hummed, feeling your mouth stretched in a smile and he turned his face, his lips colliding with yours.

You squealed, wanting to step back - because he was being unfair - but his hands sneaked around your waist, bringing you to him and therefore successfully caging you in. He urged your mouth open, slowly pushing his tongue into your cavern that became quickly eager to feel him. You sighed and slid your hands up his sturdy chest. You nibbled on his lip though he quickly stopped you when he sucked on your tongue hard, bringing out a small moan out of you. He made out with you sensually and you knew you were becoming giddy because of him.

He let his hands grope your bum, giving a good massage to your aching muscles and you moaned again, satisfied. “I guess I will have to show you a much better workout routine,” Baekhyun whispered when he let go of your lips with a smack.

Your heart skipped a beat when you realized there really wasn’t anything standing in your way. The triplets were asleep and Baekhyun riled you up so much it would be difficult to lie down next to him without touching him. “Then show me, oppa,” you made sure to emphasize the “p” sound, his twinkly eyes on your swollen lips.

He chuckled lovingly and kissed your forehead, his lips leaving a bit of moisture behind. Gently intertwining your hands, he led you out of the bathroom and straight to your bed.

“Lie down for me, sweetheart,” he told you quietly as he went to close the bedroom door. Once you got the needed privacy, he reached behind him, pulling on the shirt that he swiftly took off, your eyes appreciating the way his muscles flexed. He threw it on the floor and walked over to you, already lying on bed as he told you to. “Let me remind you that you’re oppa’s,” he mumbled with passion, already distracted by your body that was still covered with the towel.

His words ignited the desire in you and when he hovered over you with a focused gaze, you knew this would be a long night for the both of you.

On Thursday, you went to the gym with determination. The reason was simple: two babies hanging off you and one hanging off of Sukyeong. Baekhyun was running late from work so you had to bring them with you this time. Despite your huge worries, you had to drop them off at the baby corner. The kind, elderly lady showed you the young babysitter that would be in charge of your triplets (after everyone stopped ogling them and squealing about how cute they were). Her name was Sonhee and her smile was the purest you had ever laid eyes on. Her face was gentle and her eyes seemed to be telling a story of a difficult life. What was a little interesting was that you had a feeling you had seen her somewhere before and it wasn't in this gym.

“Do you have any license to prove that she is capable of taking care of three infants?” barged into the conversation Sukyeong, her eyes suspiciously looking over the girl. Even though you had the same question, you wouldn't have uttered it so bluntly. “She looks too young. Even younger than their mother,” she added with a huff.

The lady in charge, Mrs Lee, didn’t show her shock - that was if there was any. “She is the eldest sibling in her family. At home, she is taking care of five more siblings and she is a kindergarten teacher in practice during the school year.”

Your mouth shaped an “o”, nodding thoughtfully and you quickly nudged Sukyeong, catching her opening her mouth to rebut again. “Thank you. I know Sonhee won't do anything to undermine my trust.”

“I will do my best.” Sonhee bowed the perfect 90 degrees and you quickly lowered your head as well, accepting her respect. “I will make sure nothing bad will happen!”

You smiled and quickly looked over the triplets again. They were three months old and you would already let them be with a stranger. Were you still considered a responsible and good mother?

“All the rich mothers do it and they are considered great for doing it,” answered your question Sukyeong in a monotone as you were walking to the gym. “It is just sixty minutes - what can happen during such a short time?”

You frowned, pouting. “Oh, once you'll have kids, you will know, Sukyeong-ah,” you mumbled under your breath. With babies, things could go wrong within seconds. What made Sukyeong ever believe leaving babies alone for sixty minutes was safe?

“Well, it'll be fine!” she smiled brightly as you entered a still empty gym. You put your bag and phone down, and noticed the last message Baekhyun wrote:

sorry again baby enjoy your workout let me know if the munchkins were okay when you dropped them off love you baby ❤️

Your heart fluttered at the last sentence and you shot him a quick reply with an update when you heard the door of the gym opening, you trainer, Lee Junho, appearing.

He had a sleeveless sports shirt that showed his defined arms and boy, was he chunky in all the right ways. You were the first one his eyes fell on and his straight lips stretched into a delightful smile. To your surprise, he called your name: “Hello! You came already today! Ah, Sukyeong, too!”

You gave him a shy smile and caught him looking quickly over your outfit. The typical. Baekhyun's huge shirt with old pants that your legs could get lost in. You wouldn't be wearing leggins any time soon, you swore. All the ladies wore tight pilates clothing, so you were aware you looked like a trash bag but you never felt more comfortable. Just to see whether Junho let something on in his face, you watched him, but he only diverted his attention to Sukyeong who greeted him with a wide smile.

“Were you alright on Tuesday after the class?” asked Junho as he started to stretch on the floor.

Sukyeong, wanting to be a good student, followed him while you were still standing, the phone in your hands vibrating with most probably incoming messages from your husband. You pinked.

“Ye-yeah, I was … okay,” you mumbled. You already forgot about the stupid lie you made up so he would let you go to the troilets on Tuesday. Baekhyun made sure you forgot about every sane thought that night, so in conclusion, you were more than alright after class on Tuesday.

Junho nodded attentively. “Well, you can try to take it easier today, I won’t mind,” he winked with a grin.

Your eyebrows shot up. “Alright.”

“Is it exam season at uni that has you so stressed?” was his next question when he reached for his stretched out feet.

“Sorry?”

“Ah, right, well she could easily be a uni student,” giggled Sukyeong, looking at you. “My friend is still so young. She shouldn’t be so stressed, right, Junho?”

Junho watched your friend from the corner of his eye with amusement. “It would be great if no one had any stress in their lives.”

Deciding not to answer, you wanted to check your messages but the rest of the class started to arrive, so you joined Sukyeong instead. Stretching was always a good choice and Baekhyun told you about the importance of warming up properly.

“He seems to be interested in you,” whispered Sukyeong eagerly when Junho became busy replying to his fangirl students. “You piqued his curiosity!”

“Shh, stop that!” you winced, pushing her. She was spitting nonsense to tease you but- why was your heart skipping like that?!

After waiting for five more minutes, you started the workout. Even though you were already terrible, you had a weird anxiety from Junho. Maybe it was Sukyeong’s teasing that made you weirdly conscious of his gaze whenever he looked your way or looked directly at you.

You were sweating like a pig, your face shiny from the perspiration but you were determined not to give up. It was for your own benefit, your own health and if you worked on yourself, you could carry the triplets and carry the groceries - you could become a physically acclaimed superwoman!

“Make sure to straighten your back when you do the plank!” shouted Junho over the loud music just when he walked by you. Stopping, he crouched down and placed his hand first between your shoulder blades. “Keep it straight for me,” he told you and then both of his hands landed on your hips, making you go stiff under his touch. “Hips square to the mat. Make sure to squeeze your abs to keep your core strong and balanced,” he was telling in a hushed tone that felt weirdly intimate to you.

“I don’t have abs,” you heaved out, your arms shaking as you tried to keep the plank straight and correct. Junho huffed a laugh, standing up. “Well, you're doing great anyway!”

Feeling the relief when you saw him walk away, you heaved out a heavy sigh, focusing on being in the moment and imagining becoming strong; for yourself. For the babies. For Baekhyun. You could do it-

There was a distant shout calling out for your name. Recognizing the voice of Mrs Lee, you almost fell face-first on the ground from panic when you registered her words.

“Jun wouldn’t stop throwing up!”

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

A/N: Second chapter - done! But Jun :( What do you think about Junho? And Baek was busy, oh well...

Your feedback for the first part was SO NICE! Thank you to everyone who took the time to write me a comment in any form. Its so, so appreciated!

See you soon!

P.S. some people took notice AND pointed it out (which made me feel so happyyy!) that Baekhyun and OC seem to talk a lot in oppa/younger girl reference. That stems deeply from the prequel times when OC referred to him only as oppa (no, referring to Baekhyun - or any older male that is not too old, and the situation allows it - as oppa is not wrong as everyone is portraying it out in the "weirded out" culture. Baekhyun is older than OC and now it became a small game for him; after all, he loves that she is younger and he can take care of her and with the addition of triplets, he wants to embrace this a little more. Also, bear in mind they are both quite young!). So when I get to write the prequel, it will only be their oppa/younger-girl relationship! ^^ (which is why also in Captain Bucheon Lee Nari refers to Baekhyun’s character as oppa - same reason).

#baekhyun fanfiction #baekhyun fluff #baekhyun au #baekhyun angst #baekhyun smut #baekhyun scenario #baekhyun #exo fluff #exo angst #exo smut #exo fanfiction #mywritings #AY #pregnancy au #family au

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mandos-lightningbeforethunder · 3 years

Text

Start Again - Chapter Seven (Din Djarin x Reader)

SUMMARY: After being ambushed by the pair of Devaronians, you and the Mandalorian make the decision to expedite your journey into the city of Opseg. Upon your arrival, the city and its people welcome you with open arms and you find out more about what the Empire did to you while in their custody.

CHAPTER WARNINGS: mentions of attack from the previous chapter, panic attacks, medical procedures including sedation, and VERY heavy discussion of forced sterilization.

Author’s Note: This is my longest chapter yet at 3.2k words! I hope you enjoy this latest chapter and I hope I can be back on my regular update schedule. Feel free to reblog and like!

CHAPTER SEVEN - THE DIAGNOSIS

Trekking through the canyon might’ve been easier if you didn’t have such a debilitating headache. The bacta patch had healed the wound in your hairline, but your eye was still swelling and your head ached in a way that you hadn’t felt in months. In the back of your mind, a part of you really wished you had the Puvion leaves to alleviate the headache. The leaves had always worked better than any bacta spray or patch.

Your heart still raced at the thought of what happened earlier in the morning. Waking up to two Devaronians sniffing around your camp wasn’t exactly what you had in mind of a good morning. When they noticed you were awake, there was zero hesitation to take you out. They had even managed to do so quietly enough that it didn’t wake the Mandalorian.

The swelling at your eye aches as a reminder of how quickly they had managed to take you down. Your lack of training had made it easy, before you could even swing up your knife to defend yourself, the one Devaronian, Zek, punched you hard enough for you to see stars. There wasn’t much fight left in you after that.

When they noticed the Mandalorian, however, their motives changed. It wasn’t about kidnapping you and keeping you as their prize for the day, but instead getting the armor off the Mandalorian and selling it. Had they been successful they would’ve walked away with both you and possibly thousands of credits after pawning off the armor.

But the Mandalorian had handled it, wielding his saber as he easily killed the two mercenaries. It still took your breath away thinking about how he had moved with it, fluid and precise. He may have held the weapon like it burned him, but he used it like second nature.

Your feet hit solid ground and you look up, eyeing the bustling city of Opseg around you. It was noisier than Tatooine. Children scream with joy as they run past you, disappearing into the crowd of people looking to buy the latest products. Fine jewelry and clothing were hung up on display, shopkeepers shouting prices to interested onlookers. The savory smell of vegetables cooking fills your nose and you turn to see another line of shops, these ones selling hot meals. The sights and sounds were both exciting and overwhelming all at the same time.

“This is insane…” you say, laughing slightly. You had never experienced anything like this before, a city with life. Tatooine was nothing compared to this.

“It’s not insane, my dear! This is Opseg!” A voice shouts behind you, startling you. You turn and a green humanoid alien grins at you. The friendliness waving off this stranger is almost as overwhelming as Orus itself. You wondered if everyone on Orus was like this.

The Mandalorian steps just in front of you, putting a barrier between you and the stranger. You hadn’t hired him to be a bodyguard but given the events earlier this morning and your lack of training, you let it slide this time. Besides, you were tired of being snuck upon.

“Ah, apologies, my name is Ortib-Blik! But you can call me Obie for short,” The alien extends his hand out, clearing his throat when the Mandalorian doesn’t offer his hand in return. “I’m a tour guide here in Opseg. You looked lost, so I figured I’d offer my help.” He offers a sheepish smile when the Mandalorian doesn’t say anything.

“Hello Obie,” you greet, stepping to the side of the Mandalorian in order to introduce yourself. “We’re just passing through; we need to find a medcenter.”

“I’d assume it’s for that wound on your eye?” Obie asks, pointing at where your eye swells. You nod and he grins again. “Well, you’re just in luck, the medcenter is taking walk-ins today!”

“How much is a physical?” Mando asks from behind you.

“It’s free!” Obie exclaims, “Even to non-Orus citizens.”

“Is there work I can find here?” Mando asks and Obie’s expression changes.

“Yes, plenty! You look more like a hunter, so I’m sure if you were to stop by any of Opseg’s twenty cantinas you’d find something.”

You balk at the number, looking at the Mandalorian. You forget his facial expression is hidden by the helmet, but you can assume he’s also surprised. Twenty cantinas was an incredibly high amount and you couldn’t imagine the work going into finding a job would be worth it.

“Thank you, Obie, but I think we’ll take it from here.” You offer a tight smile to the alien.

“Of course, of course! If you have any questions, don’t be afraid to shout!” He says, waving as he departs down the street.

“I think he was a lot nicer than the Devaronians that greeted us this morning,” you say, smiling when the Mandalorian sighs. “Too soon?” you chuckle.

“A little, yeah,” Mando says, turning around as he looked down the street. It seemed everywhere you look that it was teeming with life, people shouting and laughing. The shopkeepers yell over the playing children as parents stress over prices. This is way better than life on Puvo, you thought.

Puvo had its moments, the winter festival brought out a certain life in its citizens. Winter seasons were so rare that they celebrated the first indication of winter, whether it was a significant drop in temperature or animals beginning their hibernation. You had only ever experienced one festival and it was during the time your mind was still mending itself back together. But you remembered the laughing, the dancing, and the singing.

Valara had spent hours showing you how to braid her hair, repeating the motions over and over until you finally got it. She looked so happy dancing with that one boy from the neighboring village. Impressions meant everything on Puvo and she took it to heart when the boy didn’t offer another date after the festival. You had been too busy recovering to offer her any comfort, but Valara had moved on, throwing herself into work.

They hadn’t even celebrated the last winter festival. There was too much work to be done, the council had announced. A cloud of depression remained over the village for some time. Valara mentioned it reminded her of when the Empire was still in power. The depressive atmosphere took a toll on your already weakened mental health. Try as she might, Valara’s grandmother struggled to pull you out of that episode. It had been one of the many deciding factors to leave Puvo, at least for the sake of your own well-being.

“We’re in the town square at the moment,” The Mandalorian says. The memories of Puvo fade as you focus your attention. “Medcenter shouldn’t be too far from here.”

“Right,” you murmur, “and what are you going to do while I’m being seen?”

“The guide said twenty cantinas, I have to start somewhere. Most of them are downtown. Small, shouldn’t be too hard to get through all of them before you’re done.” Mando replies, looking to you for confirmation. You nod.

The walk to the medcenter isn’t much. You manage to escape the craziness that’s the town square, there’s not as much yelling, but there’s still plenty of children running around their exasperated parents. It’s clear you’ve entered one of the housing areas, women and men alike staring as you both continue your path. The Mandalorian doesn’t seem to mind the stares. He’s probably used to it by now, you think.

The medcenter is daunting when you approach it. The all-white building amidst desert brown was shocking at first, freezing you in your movement as you stared at the twin doors in front of you. What if they found out something was wrong with you? What if it couldn’t be fixed? Your mind spirals at the idea of what could go wrong, words and thoughts jumbling together. Would they take you away from the Mandalorian? Send you back to Puvo so you can really get better? Institutionalize you? You weren’t that crazy…

“I can’t do this,” you whisper to the Mandalorian. He remains silent and you wonder if you’ve finally managed to make him angry.

“You can. I’ll be there with you the whole time.” He speaks.

“But-but you said you’d—”

“I know what I said earlier.” He murmurs, “But you’re clearly in distress and it’s better for me to stay close, especially in a city as big as this one. The cantinas can wait.”

You’re not sure if his words really soothe your nerves. Your heart is still racing at your earlier thoughts and it’s quickly becoming harder to breathe. He was promising to stay but would he be there when they read off what was wrong with you? Suddenly being on Puvo didn’t sound so bad after all.

You jump when the door opens behind you.

“Hello, I am Oralia. I am a nurse here at the Opseg Medical Center.” A Mirialan woman greets you. “Is there something I can help you with?”

The kindness in the woman’s voice makes you freeze again. You’re unsure what to say, what to tell her. Do you start with the current injuries you have? Do you tell her about your purpose for visiting before you were even attacked? Could she tell you were overloaded with anxiety? You were probably shaking like a wet Loth-cat.

“Miss, are you alright?” Oralia asks you and you shake your head. With gentle hands, she lifts your face, her warm eyes examining the wound by your eye and the peeling bacta patch. “Are you with her, sir?” Oralia asks the Mandalorian.

“Yes,” he replies.

“Let’s get her taken care of.” The nurse says, grasping your elbow with a comforting hand as she walks you through the doors. You can hear the Mandalorian’s boots just behind you as Oralia walks you past the front desk into a smaller room.

“Is she going to be alright?” The Mandalorian asks, watching as Oralia lays you on the examination table. The lights are too bright in this room, it’s almost a startling reminder of that nightmare you had days ago. Strapped down to a table and subjected to torture, you never wanted to experience that again. Not again, not again, not again…

“She is having a panic attack,” Oralia replies in a calm manner, placing a wet cloth against your burning forehead. Their voices sound distant, muted even as you try and get over this attack. It’s so much worse than the ones before, your limbs feel numb and weightless all at the same time and the sterile smell of the room fills your senses. It only makes the panic worse.

A whisper of “I’m sorry” and the white ceiling blurs above you, your eyelids become too heavy to keep open. Sleep consumes you.

When you wake up, the room is the same. White walls and white ceilings stare back at you as you try to take in your new environment. The softness of a bed fills the fists of your hands. They must’ve moved you while you were still sleeping. Sitting up, careful of the needle in your arm, you look around in confusion. Where was Mando? What happened? How long were you asleep for?

“It is good to see that you are awake,” a voice greets you. Oralia. The nurse from earlier.

“Where is the Mandalorian?” You ask, not sure whether or not you can trust her.

“He is out. I told him to walk off his anger.” The nurse replies. She walks over to your bedside and examines the IV needle in the crook of your elbow. The skin is bruised but you’re not sure if it’s her work or from the Devaronians from earlier.

“Does he know I’m awake?”

“He will return, I am sure. You needed fluids in your system as well as a proper examination, but only one of those things I could do while you were asleep.” Oralia replies, examining the needle in the crook of your elbow. Adjusting the bandages, she looks at you with a kind smile.

“Did I pass out?” The last moments before falling asleep aren’t clear, only a blur of pictures and muted dialogue.

“You did not. I sedated you. Your panic consumed you and even my years of training could not walk you down from that.” she murmurs, removing the needle from your vein with calm precision. A small bead of blood pools out and she wipes it away, before wrapping the tiny wound.

Bringing your hand to your face, you feel along where your eye had been bruised. Clearly, it had been treated in your sleep as the skin is no longer tender to your touch. The patch just before your hairline is also gone, the skin smooth with no evidence of a scar.

“I am surprised you made it as far as you did. The Mandalorian told me a great deal of what happened to you both this morning. A pair of Devaronians?”

“Yes,” you say in response. She doesn’t urge you for any more of the story, but you tell her anyways. “The Mandalorian held his own. I, well, I didn’t.” Oralia chuckles at your statement.

“You are brave.” She compliments and you feel your skin growing hot at the statement. “It takes a lot for a woman like you to travel the galaxy. Much less with a Mandalorian.”

“I’m searching for answers. I was a victim of the Imperials and they took my son from me. The Mandalorian is helping me find him.” You tell her and she hums, finishing her work on the bandage just in the crook of your elbow.

“You have other wounds,” Oralia says, this time her hand placing itself right above your heart. You look down at where her hand is and you nod, looking away from her in shame. “I will grab Dr. Orn.”

The door opens with a soft whoosh sound and Oralia departs. You’re left in silence, pondering over your thoughts again. You didn’t want to have another panic attack. Taking a deep breath, you think about where the Mandalorian may be. Oralia had told him to walk off his anger. Why had he been so angry? Was it because you were asleep for so long? Thinking on it, it was some of the best sleep you had in a long time. No nightmares, no memories weaving themselves into dreams.

A click and the door opens again, this time Oralia is followed by a human woman. Dr. Orn, you deduce. Dr. Orn quietly walks over to your bedside and examines what you think is your chart on a datapad. The information displayed is not in basic and you frown.

“Hello,” Dr. Orn greets you. She’s older, possibly a few years shy of Valara’s grandmother but her eyes hold the same kindness. Dr. Orn says your name and you blink, looking back up at her. “We did some bloodwork. First, I would like to welcome you to Orus and we’re grateful that you chose our medcenter as the place to handle your healthcare needs. Second, your bloodwork came back great.”

A sigh of relief. “That’s great,” you murmur and Dr. Orn smiles.

“Oralia did some investigating on your chain code and there’s no record of you in any system, not even ex-Imperial. I’m sure you were aware, as was the Mandalorian. He was kind enough to give us what little information you had on yourself. But given the current state of your health, you are in great shape. Minimal scarring from the leaves of Puvo, which is great. I’m sure you’re aware of the ongoing mental healing you’re going through, but with time, you can work through the nightmares and panic attacks. However, there is something I want to note.”

Dr. Orn displays the datapad to you, this time the information is in basic. A rundown of what medical records they could establish for you. One healthy pregnancy was just one of the few things that caught your eye.

“It’s great to see that you’ve been able to have a healthy pregnancy. Oralia tells me you had a son, about fifteen years ago, correct?” Dr. Orn asks you, pointing at the profile they had made of your son. It was blank except for his name and estimated age. You were listed as his mother, but the name underneath FATHER remained blank.

“Yes. Castin. He was about ten when he was taken from me,” you reply, hand reaching out to skim through the notes they had established for you. Most of the information was blank, mostly because it was unknown, even to you.

“Good, good, as you can already tell we’ve logged that in the file we created for you.” Dr. Orn smiles before she brings the datapad closer to herself and removing it from your view. “However, we detected some anomalies in your blood. A woman of your age should be producing the normal hormones that regulate a menstrual cycle. We found that there was a lack of most of those hormones. Can you tell me when your last cycle was?”

You open your mouth to give a quick answer but quickly realize you don’t know. When you had arrived on Puvo, Valara had explained it was a possibility that your cycle would be irregular, considering everything your body had been through. But now that you were thinking about it, you hadn’t even noticed a lack in your cycle. You had been distracted by the ongoing therapy and work on Puvo.

“I-I don’t know…possibly after I gave birth to Castin but I don’t really remember,” you chewed at your bottom lip. What could it mean for you?

“That’s what I was afraid of,” Dr. Orn sighs, looking back down at the datapad. Her fingers tap on the screen, possibly logging what you had said. “You see, when we did your blood test, we found the lack of hormones a sign that you were not having a regular cycle. It’s not unusual, travel can bring stress on the body and I’ve been informed of what happened in your past, but for you, it means something else. When the Empire had you in their custody, what exactly do you remember them doing to you?”

You can feel Oralia’s comforting hand on your lower back, rubbing circles to soothe your nerves. You weren’t sure if you actually felt soothed, but you took a deep breath.

“It’s mostly a blur, I remember the electrocution and how painful it was, but beyond that, I don’t know.” You inform her, your hands twisting together in your lap. Why was she dragging this out? How bad could it possibly be?

“I see,” Dr. Orn hums. You watch as her hand reaches out, resting on your knee. A gentle touch. “When the Empire had you in their custody, most likely while you were in between torture sessions, they performed a surgery to sterilize you. The lack of hormones in your blood and lack of cycle leads us to believe that this is true. I am terribly sorry that you had to suffer under their hand. If there is anything I can do to help, please let me know.” Her face says it all, the sincereness in her tone and the sympathy in her eyes. The realization of the diagnosis hits you, knocking the air out of your lungs.

Even with Oralia’s hand on your back, you weep.

Read Chapter Eight - Finally, A Lead here!

#din djarin x you #din dijarin x reader #din djarin #din dijarin fanfiction #din djarin/reader #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian #start again

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sugar-petals · 4 years

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Treats For You (M)

↳ PAIRING: yuzuru hanyu × reader

↳ PLOT: You tend to a nervous Yuzu the night before a skating competition.

↳ WORD COUNT: 9k | one shot | domestic au, smut

↳ WARNINGS ⚠️ pwp, dom/sub, feeding yuzu treats, pegging, some very wet oral (m giving), cum play, oh lord it gets graphic, fingering, crying, mommy kink, yuzu’s crazy back arch, rough sex, masochism, aftercare, some asthma talk

↳ CARO’S NOTE: inspired by this juicy gif. PS: since i usually post for other fandoms — if you’re unfamiliar with yuzu, visit this intro post.

Just two minutes after you switch off the light, he starts fidgeting.

Repeatedly, all while messing around with his pillow. Soon enough, the blanket you share becomes all disheveled.

You turn your head towards the window to check. All as usual. The blinds are perfectly drawn to shut out the moonlight. Meanwhile, the humidifier infuses the air in gentle ten-minute intervals. Not even the heater is bumbling tonight. Yuzuru keeps on rustling beside you, still. Some of his plushies fall off the bed, one after the other.

Of course he can’t sleep. It’s daunting, no precaution ever helps. The blanket couldn’t be any more crumpled up at this point.

„I’m so nervous,“ he finally sits up another minute later, causing the duvet to lift. A little sigh follows.

Eventually, you turn in the sheets yourself, now facing him. Or rather, what you can vaguely make out as his crouching silhouette.

„Hey,“ you mumble from your left side of the bed. „You watched all of the performances from last month.“ You pat Yuzu’s pillow, hoping he would sink down on it again. „At least twice. Or more.“

God knows for how many hours he stretched in front of the TV on his spongy blue yoga mat, reviewing mountains of footage with a furrowed brow worthy of a restaurant critic.

Every jump and every turn, analyzed over and over. Down to the millimeter. Even the costume got its fair share of scorn. Too wide there, this detail on the collar could be different, that part gets in the way while doing spins.

„It’s all— I don’t know what I’m lacking these days.“

The silhouette doesn’t look like it’s headed to lie down again for the time being. You reach toward your bedstand’s squiggly designer lamp. After fumbling about in the dark, you find the bulky switch at its bottom. On goes the light again. Perhaps a bit too bright, both of you squint hard.

„It’s not like you’re dropping to second place anytime soon.“

Given how you thought you could call it a day before Yuzu started to fidget, maybe your voice is not fully resonant yet. It still carries a little unspoken ‚…right?‘ with it.

As soon as you finish the sentence, you feel how he can pick up on it already. The humidifier dryly comments by puffing out a cloud of lavender steam.

„I don’t really know,“ Yuzu retorts twisting, going into a deep shrug. He is completely sunken now.

„Looks like a simple big hug won’t do, hm.“

Yuzuru ends up nodding. It’s more knowing than admitting. But you don’t like the sense of resignation that comes with it, at all. The problem goes a little deeper than just motivating him with the stats he ironically already knows, times better than you, even.

It’s been going on for the entire day. The last time he made such a grouchy face at his videos was around Christmas. Back then, he couldn’t quite get the jumps right at the start of his routine. But now? His scores are just fine. Not to mention the jumps.

„I didn’t think you were lacking,“ you say. „You just fell once during training.“

And that was because he was fooling around during a break, not in the serious exercises.

„Sorry for bothering you,“ he buries his face in the blanket, beginning to ruffle his hair all over the place. Frustrated Friday-evening-Yuzu always does that, but the energy doesn’t seem to go anywhere this time.

The murmur of his stomach isn’t hard to miss either. You lay your hand on Yuzu’s back.

„Is it because you didn’t eat?“

You wonder what he had for dinner.

Only more guilty stomach growling reaches you as a reply. Figures: He skipped it, and lunch, too. His breakfast was so frugal, you don’t even remember whether he had his milk or not.

Yuzu was already pacing around in the living room at that point. Recalling the tricky parts of the upcoming choreography, treading his feet into the carpet, humming the steady rhythm of his skating program.

„Maybe I’m turning into a snickers diva,“ a muffled little comment emerges from where his chaotic hair sticks out from the duvet. At this point, his face is all buried there.

„I mean. If you allow me to baby you…“

Three minutes later. You rub your eyes, shift from leg to leg. The kitchen floor is as cold as ever so you regret not putting on socks. Meanwhile, there’s no problem raiding the fridge.

You could go to the grocery store five times a day and buy everything Yuzu’s mouth waters over — it’d still be stacked to the top. Snacks, veggies, particular sports drinks in weird blue colors, Japanese pickled plums, gyoza left-overs, salad, various fizzy drinks, mostly lemonade.

It’s like that with any food. Out of sight, out of mind. He won’t bother getting up from the yoga mat if he’s fixated on the TV.

After making two distinct picks and checking whether the fridge door closes properly, then bustling at the sink with a towel, you trot back to the bedroom. Equipped. In the meantime, Yuzu has recollected his plushies from the floor, gently aligning them next to his pillow.

They’re all in their strictly defined place again. You enter just the second after he’s arranged them in the usual half-circle order, centered around his favorite, all-time friendly-eyed Winnie Pooh bear.

„Will you look at that,“ you plant your little kitchen conquests onto the bed, rousing approval noises from Yuzuru who sparkles right at the box and plate you brought along. The grouchy face dissolves, curiosity takes its place. His food reactions will always be the cutest to you.

„Strawberries!“

„From the market. Wasn’t too expensive.“

Freshly doused in the sink, plump and very ripe.

„And rice cakes!“

Truth be told, there couldn’t be a bigger comfort food on his list and you shamelessly exploit the very fact.

„Every competition has a victory meal. Here, fruits first.“

After plopping down on the mattress yourself, you pick up one, then two strawberries. Immediately, Yuzu’s little upturned mouth opens wide as if a tiger baby was yawning.

He chews more eagerly than you thought. If you pass him pretzel sticks while he reviews things on the TV, he barely eats one or two of them.

„I like these,“ he swallows, prying for the next fruit in your hand already. „Sweet!“

„Tastes best with cake,“ you rearrange your sitting position, making sure to park your cold feet next to Yuzuru’s very warm ones. His toes are readily brushing against yours, Yuzuru perhaps not even noticing they do. He’s too fixated on the little cakes. In all things he does— focus incarnate. He can’t help it.

„Yes, I wanna try!“

You rummage in the packaging you brought along, draw forth a first treat. A second one you set aside on the plate. Tiger baby opens his mouth even wider, in goes the first chunk of the rich delicacy. Lord have mercy on his stomach, it’s 11:15 PM. But what’s normal to him, anyways.

Ten more minutes pass. After the strawberry box is two thirds empty and three juicy rice cakes have embarked on their last journey, Yuzu looks a lot more content than before, even if his bedhead arguably makes him look like a mad scientist. Junior professor Yuzuru Hanyu, escapee from his genius lab that exploded in a blaze of smoke.

You take it as your task to brush the outlaw strands back into their place with your fingers after pulling out a wet wipe — those with the way too astringent citrus flavor— from your bedstand, cleaning your hands off the rice. It’s not like your hands aren’t sticky on the regular.

To your satisfaction, Yuzu looks like a swaying cat, nestled into his blanket. With no more stomach growling audible, gladly. You put the plate on the bedside table, lean forward to kiss his belly, and shoot him a fracture of an ambiguous gaze.

„So… Fancy getting even more stuffed?“

„Sure! Is it a surprise?“ Yuzu looks around, presumably searching for more food you brought along.

The pure soul.

„Well, we already had dessert.“

„Oh, right! But, what’s the food, then?“

A little pause follows. Yuzuru couldn’t look any more thrilled. You decide to go with it.

„You’re too innocent,“ you lower down your pants by an inch, thumbs demonstratively hooked into the hem. You raise your eyebrows into a question that he cannot miss. „If you want. You might wanna grab your spray first, though.“

Only the last part fully registers in Yuzuru’s expression that finally goes from curious to… sheepish. He caught on.

Asthma spray at 11:30 PM is a cue he’s gotten familiar with over the last four months. Not in a million years did he think he’d ever have to use it late at night. Whatever decision process is rattling through Yuzu’s brain right now, it’s a fast one, though.

„Ha— okay!“

„Alright, Yuzu.“

„Just once second!“

Food round number two, it is. You kick off your pants and underwear but make sure they don’t land any place where plushies are. Yuzu is already busy at the other end of the room, visibly at work with shaky hands, browsing the cupboard with meds next to the window.

Now that he’s double nervous, you curse your idea, but remind yourself of the last late-evening time Yuzu had his head between your legs. ‚I dunno, I was just concentrated‘ are the words that stuck with you after asking him how on earth he kept his breath for what felt like 45 seconds.

Whatever masochist devil has been driving him, it gave your boyfriend skills you never even knew were possible to have out of absolute nowhere. Not to mention how easily it distracted him from anything else in the world.

Maybe that focus is an effect easy to replicate, you think. Anything that can take his mind off the competition tomorrow is worth trying.

Carefully, you move over to the right side of the bed. Then, recline on Yuzu’s pillow — on his explicit wish two months ago, you meticulously keep that tradition — and feel surrounded by plushies already.

Back then, Yuzu insisted that he shouldn’t be the only one watching out for you when you’re having sex. And that the pillow just smells really good of your hair afterwards. So there you lay, feeling all kinds of horny. Given that Yuzu is already returning to the bed, swiping his hair off his forehead. Looking very refreshed, letting his breath play. Sexy.

And there it goes already. The I dunno, I was just concentrated gaze. You arrange your legs wide enough for Yuzu to settle in the middle, him still sitting upright. His hands are still shaky when they reach around your outer thigh, but his eyes don’t lie to you in the very least.

„Your breath alright?“

A little nod, but he doesn’t heed the question for any longer. There’s gladly nothing that his lung doctor can’t figure out. You count on that, but asking doesn’t hurt.

Meanwhile, Yuzu’s eager eyes are already drawn downwards. Getting bigger and bigger. The surprise he had anticipated in fact now dances over his face, flighty and polite, but nonetheless apparent to you. He’s smiling, and it looks shy in the light of the bedstand lamp.

„I, ah…“

It’s as if he hasn’t seen you naked before, every time. For whatever reason, Yuzu always reverts to virgin mode with his first glance. You admit it’s flattering and amusing alike, but also — leaves you with Hitchcock level suspense.

Yuzuru has proven himself to be an expert in summoning a beginner’s zeal, an almost childlikeness. That keeps you on your toes and promises an intensity that routine and pragmatic energy management could never give you.

After letting his eyes linger a little more, his lips become visibly impatient. He’s already licking them. You’d promised food, and he takes it seriously. That Yuzu’s fingers stroke rather weirdly at your thighs does not escape your attention either. They’re practicing.

„Help yourself, touch.“

The stroking ceases. Yuzu doesn’t hesitate to reach down with his left. How he touches you sends a row of tingles down your legs. His fingertips are amazingly dainty and soft. He explores. Then, soon keeps on caressing about, leans his head forward, all still from his seated position. It doesn’t take too long until he goes straight to getting you off with his right hand.

„This is, wow,“ he mumbles to himself, already immersed in rubbing your clit. Going in circles, taking his time. Alternating between index and thumb.

„Yeah. That’s the spot,“ you shift in the pillow, eventually finding a good position to relax. You exhale, focus on his hand.

„So smooth,“ Yuzu traces his joining left hand up and down your labia.

„Maybe someone wants a taste?“

You were right that he would forget practically anything else. The yoga mat worry brow is blown off his face. Substituted by— appetite.

„Not just maybe, actually.“

Spreading your legs a little more is invitation enough to have Yuzuru lower his head onto your pubic bone, tongue already searching for its favorite place. Your fingers gently interlace in his hair as soon as he starts sucking. Keeping his bangs out of his eyes.

How unafraid to bury his face he is you soon get to witness. You can feel the bridge of his nose glide from lip to lip, and the feathery light brush of his lashes at the base of your inner thighs.

Yuzu’s tongue has always been cheeky, but today, it feels particularly adventurous and slippery. He can’t help but fumble about with his hands simultaneously. Beginner’s zeal, you knew it’d come.

The bucking of your hips comes too naturally to be controlled. Nor does Yuzuru know just how to hold his head back from thrusting. This little shit. Whatever is in those rice cakes, it made him a new level of keen. Soon enough, his tongue has riled you up plenty, and his focused eyes have become entirely monotone. Only preoccupied with one thing and one thing alone.

Just how much he dedicates his attention has to be a thing for the books. You feel like blowing up and moaning like crazy at this point, but manage to at least puff out. He knows you’re way too close. There’s a little smile you feel in the way he eats you.

„So that mouth gets a cum filling,“ you twist your fingers out of Yuzu’s wild hair. It’s all tangled again. The return of the mad professor. He has all the space in the world to bop his head as much as he wants now. One, two, three plushies fall over and tumble around the mattress. He doesn’t notice.

The warmth between your legs has been growing ceaselessly. Now, ready to brim. With Yuzu’s agile tongue slipping back and forth over your clit in erratic intervals, you feel like losing your mind with every lick. The way his lips excite you gives off the lewdest sucking noises. All wet, and resolute like a chess player not to drop you off that high.

He keeps his laps consistent, leans in more, and eventually— tips you off the edge with a fast sequence of letting his tongue dip under the hood of your clit. And letting it stay there, all until your legs start twitching. You groan out.

Yuzu gets a big. Fat. Cum filling indeed.

Your breath goes short, you grab his shoulders. Growling, cursing. Trying to ride the wave, but the contractions catch you harder than you thought. You can practically feel how much you ooze out and ruin his face.

Bratty he is, Yuzuru forms his mouth all kissy and pecks your clit through every throb. Until the shockwaves subside, letting your shaking thighs off the hook eventually.

Too fucking intense. The surge of pleasure keeps on making your mind hazy long after your orgasm is over. To add fuel to the fire, Yuzuru rubs his belly, as if he just had two happy meals for the price of one.

Pulling off, his face is all bright and slobbery in its remaining smile. His lips are cum-glazed, and more than just plain sweat trickles down his nose. Nothing better than a facial right in front of twenty plushies. Who knew Winnie the Pooh himself would ever be eye witness to Yuzu’s sporty head game.

Friendly bear he is, it doesn’t seem to bother him. From unsuspecting comfort teddy on Yuzu’s lap 23/7 to live-action porn audience. First row, no popcorn though, but HD sound quality and claims to free spit. The guy is living his absolute best life, isn’t he.

„You… growling. That was pretty hot,“ Yuzuru says. His jaw is hanging all loose and most of his speech is slurred. Yuzu looks all satiated. In your mind, you pat yourself on your own shoulder. Boyfriend corruption: almost complete.

„Like being spoiled? I want you to clean that up.“

Yuzu squeaks out giddy in reply. A moment later, he goes back to lean down again, swallowing and licking up cum from your drenched, swollen lips. His slurping noises are indulgent, wet, and desperately slutty. He succeeds in cleaning you up, but keeps on messing up himself even more. Yuzuru delights in rubbing his whole face into your dripping pussy until his eyebrows are sticky, his lids and cheeks are damp, and you feel capable to get up from the pillow.

Despite not being underneath the blanket, you notice that your feet aren’t that cold anymore.

He sits on the bed like a mermaid, huddled close to you. Normally, he would visibly sort his thoughts like that, but now, all he does is blink and nuzzle up against you with his forehead.

Settling, Yuzuru doesn’t seem to know where to put his hands and you take it as a chance to pepper them with kisses. The back of the hand, the palms, the wrists. It calms you, and it calms him.

You feel entirely drenched, refreshed and relaxed at once. How Yuzuru cuddles against your legs makes your heart warm, and the moment is blissful.

One lavender steam cloud later, you feel like moving again. Maybe there are two restless people in this relationship. The thought of it is funny.

„We could go on a little more,“ eventually, you pat his head. „With something different if you want.“

„Do you still have energy?“ he asks. His breath is somewhat slowing already. It feels hot against your leg.

„More than before, actually.“

He sits up. Looks like you surprised him again. Little does Yuzu know how much he shakes you up.

„Really?“

You nod, twirling at his bangs now.

„I have an idea. So… you remember what’s been waiting in a box for a month.“

You can tell he knows exactly what you mean. No doubt he didn’t take very long to recall it, either. That tells you something.

„Can we use it?“

That answer was fast.

„It’s what I’ve been thinking.“

„We’ve been putting this off but I’m still curious.“

And your guess was correct. It’s definitely been on his mind.

„Yeah, you’re right.“

Promptly, you direct your eyes to the bedroom cupboard to your far left. The one containing various kinds of skating blades in slender packagings, tracksuits in dark colors, fan presents, and mail orders. Among them, a larger jet black box—

That neither Yuzu nor you dared to open given it was a product of a reckless button click at 2 PM.

Admittedly, after Yuzu passed you a way too expensive bottle of sake that he got for his birthday. Since he’s allergic to alcohol, somebody thought she could give it a sure try instead. Pouring $200 into the sink would have been the better option.

Said black box soon sits between the two of you, wide open to reveal the truth of what sake can do.

„Oh man. What have I done.“

That button click comes back to bite you big time.

„This looks, I think, realistic—?“

At least on the surface.

Of course, you drunk fool had to order the ‚sculpted, real-life imitation‘ version. You couldn’t be any more embarrassed. No more alcohol in this flat, that’s for sure. What else to do but take it in stride now that the box is already open, though.

„I uh, think so. At least with the veins.“

„It’s… it is really big.“

At least three times Yuzu’s flaccid size if you don’t hallucinate right now.

„I don’t know how I’m not gonna tear you apart. How many inches are these, 12? My drunk self is too ambitious.“

Maybe you shouldn’t have used that word and said ‚reckless‘ instead. Because ambition surely and habitually triggers a prancing and posing Shia LaBeouf shouting ‚do it!‘ in Yuzuru’s athlete brain. You can see it in his eyes and already regret thinking out loud.

„We can still try.“

„If that’s a good idea or not we will probably see,“ you begin to inspect the contents one by one up close. „I think I bought a weapon.“

„Now I know why they call guns a strap,“ Yuzuru equally peaks over the edge of the box, looking like his future just flashed before his eyes.

„Next time I pass the sake to your coaches or something,“ you end up pulling out the red harness kit that glaringly lays on top of the contents. All looking very adjustable indeed. „That’s what my midnight fantasy seems to look like.“

„Uh—huh!“

Yuzu snakes his hand into the box himself now. Pulling out a transparent, orange-pink 13 oz bottle with a bubbly-looking fluid inside. Gaudy stuff, but a generous amount.

„Mister Lube. My new best friend,“ he says, laying the bottle aside and then pulling off his black PJ shirt. Although he strips quite leisurely, you can tell that Yuzuru is a little tense in his torso. That you will attend to in a minute, you think. But beforehand, you let your eyes roam for something else.

„They probably have something to clean it with in there as well. Let me see.“

You find that even if you might have ordered all this pretty tipsy, the toy set does have its quality. Just before you want to ask Yuzuru to warm up, he visibly ponders, then cleans his pajamas off the bed to make space for a little area.

„If you don’t mind, I stretch my muscles,“ Yuzuru puts aside a couple of plushies, too, but keeps Pooh close, assuming his typical pre-training stances.

He knows himself. That’s good.

„Tell me if you need help for the thigh stretching.“

In the meantime, you ease into the red kit and arrange the box contents on the bed. There seem to be fifteen things going on at once. If this would be public in the slightest, you believe the two of you must look like a bunch of eccentrics to anybody who’d watch you.

Ten minutes later, Yuzuru might just be in Olympic shape, has downed almost half a liter of spring water in one go. You know that he could probably deliver a quintuple jump on the spot if he wanted. The strap-on is all assembled, clean, and you have stored away the practically empty box of sake sinnery.

„I’ll skate cross-eyed and cross-legged tomorrow,“ Yuzu stares right at your crotch, face buried in his palms. Only his eyes peek through the fingers. „Godspeed to my ass.“

You sure as hell won’t disagree. This strap is a threat.

„I don’t know why I had to order supersize out of all possible things. You need a prayer circle after this. Where’s Mister Lube?“

„Here, over here,“ Yuzuru passes over the bottle, shaking it.

„I’ll relax you as good as I can, okay. Before I get arrested for possession of weapons without a license.“

And annihilating Yuzu’s insides with that XXL dick that he sure as hell doesn’t just want halfway in. Lord have mercy. You can only shake your head at yourself for buying this.

„Honestly though. Does it really fit in?“

Yuzu leans his face toward your hip, now on all fours, taking the sight in. He still can’t believe his eyes.

„We’ll see. Let your body decide, not your pride okay,“ you poke the tip of the strap-on into his left cheek. Hoping that it takes away some of the tension, at least. „And you can still tap the mattress.“

„Okay. Tap the mattress.“

He nods quite avidly. Same protocol as always. No spoken safewords, only something that Yuzu can make use of with his reflexes. Speech? Nothing you can both count on as soon as horniness kicks in.

You tried that for the first two weeks and quickly settled for tapping instead. Especially because Yuzu likes to have fingers in his mouth every so often.

„I mean. You just did like five splits, didn’t you. Warm-ups always help. If your ankle doesn’t fall off?“

That mini workout was more than just impressive, in fact. And still, you eye Yuzuru’s notoriously injured foot. The slim little fella has a long history of recovery behind him.

„The ankle is decent, the usual stuff.“

„I wish we had a smaller toy to start out with,“ you scratch your head. That might be the one thing that’s been missing from the box. „We still have Mister Lube, anyway. Watch this,“ you pick up the orange bottle, flipping the cap open. „It’s actually scented! Worth ruining the bed if you ask me.“

On goes the fluid, you rub it all across the length of the dildo. Must be cherry flavor or something. Yuzuru sure makes big eyes.

„I knew I could count on Mister Lube.“

„Yeah, we use lots. And I’ll be very gentle.“

The cherry scent is gladly much less tacky than the bottle itself, not too artificial-smelling either. You squeeze out a second load and distribute it over the strap-on just to be sure. Yuzuru’s breath goes faster.

„Can I ask something beforehand?“

„Go right ahead.“

„I wanna suck first if you…“

Who knew. The lube probably made his mouth water.

Being honest, you think that it might be a good idea to get this going. Better than blowing his pretty back out right away and making a mistake, even if he is much less tense now.

„I don’t mind, Yuzu. You already have some chapstick on, right? Here.“

You level your hips to line up with his mouth more easily. You can tell that Yuzuru, after some heavy blinking, eventually braces himself. There’s nothing more telling than his tunnel vision plastered all over his face. His eyes, lids heavy, are hypnotized and seem darker. Yuzu’s bedroom gaze is the best in the world.

„Okay, I’ll start.“

A first kittenish lick. A second. A third. Then, brave lips — enclosing the tip. He audibly nips and swallows.

A few more licks, and repeat. Mister Lube seems to taste pretty good. You bless the shady company that manufactures the black box of sin for once.

You let Yuzu explore, pump his hand around the shaft, lick from all directions he fancies. Compared to his wrist, the dildo doesn’t really fall short in diameter, but with Yuzu’s face up close you are relieved it’s not a complete David versus Goliath match.

Soon enough, he musters the courage to open his mouth a little wider, cramming a bit more in than just the tip. You can’t deny you’re getting turned on again with the way he slurps and hums around your dick. With the minutes, he becomes bolder, moving his head.

Even if the lube gathers at his chin and seeps down to the bed, he keeps on sucking, now with a first pearl of sweat lingering on his forehead already. You’d never think it’d make him break a sweat. To be fair, he just did fifty jumping jacks in the warm-up.

„Want me to move?“

Two nods. You glide in, let your hips do the work how they want to. You don’t trust your online shopping choices, but your tempo, at least. Yuzuru is making all choked up noises trying to gobble up all the girth he gets, his fingers entangled in your harness. It keeps him in a steady place.

You can work from that, angle a few superficial thrusts into his mouth to get the saliva flowing. The blotch on your bed is already pretty nasty. The slow pace is apt enough to fill Yuzu’s mouth with spit bubbles that begin to foam out bit by bit.

After two more minutes of light back and forth, Yuzuru pulls off to speak.

„Please do it stronger. I don’t mind being hoarse.“

Not a second later, all he does is slurp up a very dripping shaft again. With difficulty jamming it in past the first few inches, but determined, anyway. You didn’t expect anything else.

Yuzu’s lips and eyes are all glossy by now. The portion of lube-infused spit has accumulated at his jaw already, soon to travel down to his throat.

Stronger, he says. Why not.

„Okay, get ready.“

„M—hm!“

An abrasive jab follows a shallow one. If it wasn’t for the lube, your dick would scrape right down his upper throat. But this way, the first dip goes in with sufficient slip and slide, not leaving Yuzu with too much dick in his neck for long. All your strap-on does is bounce right back.

What you do hear is Yuzu’s gag reflex… claiming its rights. Still understated, but nevertheless there. After three more thrusts, you decide to stay about halfway balls deep, watching Yuzuru squirm, even try to shove in about an inch more by pressing his head forward. His breath is clean and deep through his nose. You put a checkmark on the my-boyfriend-has-asthma list in your mind.

„You look good with a dick in your mouth.“

What is supposedly a ‚thanks‘ ends up as gargling and choking. Yuzuru starts getting wet eyes at this point. Even a little bow of his head is something that doesn’t slip past your attention. Mannered guy, isn’t he.

That praise makes him do the horniest noises is also something that you make a memo of. Along with seeing how it’s rendering him all aroused. You’ve seen those neck veins and red chin spots come out plenty of times to know.

A couple more thrusts are not a bad option, you decide. Although it seems that Yuzuru had the idea to hollow out his cheeks that very moment. The vacuum first makes your cock plunge in a little too fast than intended, then naturally pulls Yuzu’s head forward once you move your hips back again.

It’s why the second thrust catches him off guard, flattening his lips and making your dick slide into his throat with air going in. Yuzu ends up choking hopelessly. It doesn’t look like he’s retreating his head in the very least, however.

Instead, you feel his hands grab at your either hip to secure himself in place. A glance from above, slightly angled sideward, shows you just how hard and throbbing Yuzu’s own dick is, tipping against his stomach.

Once again, you make an impressed-my-dear face that he doesn’t overlook. His cheeks go hollow again and he keeps up the indulgent speed. Increasingly getting rougher and more pain-craving. Messier. Desperate.

Yuzu opens his mouth wider not to have his teeth get in the way. It’s serious business now. His throat makes the most disgusting, grunting noises. Oh. Shit. Yuzu’s greed and sloppy lips make your body burn up. Soreness is the very least he’s headed for.

„Wow, Yuzu. Wow.“

It’s not something you didn’t know already. This man is without a singular doubt a lunatic. You whisper more praises to him, your hands grabbing hold of his head to sustain the movement rhythmically.

Yuzu’s gag reflex has proven to only rebel every other thrust so you can pound away, at that time already giving up even the mattress that must be sopping wet to its core with Yuzuru drooling all over it. Too late for a towel altogether but fuck it.

Yuzu takes the choking well. He’s leaking spit all over, surrenders to your hands. Even if he doesn’t manage to deepthroat the entire length of the dick, he manages an awful lot of inches. By now, he’s gotten the hang of not letting too much air in. All while relaxing his muscles.

Beautiful hums, chokes, little whines. Too bad your phone isn’t close by. Recording this has to be your very next bucket list entry. You’re glad he asked about this.

You go on thrusting for a few more times until you feel your hips going tired. Once his nose starts getting all runny, you naturally slow down even more. Eventually, you help Yuzuru pull his head off. His lips are all puffy.

„B—woah,“ it’s all he can moan and splurt out, and you help him wipe the glob of saliva and snot from his chin with your sleeve.

Your pajama shirt might be ruined, but not as much as Yuzu’s tonsils. Who knows just how many times you were deep and fast enough to make them throb from all that friction. Seven, eight times? His food for tomorrow can be a light soup at best. Not even you were as sore after riding and sucking every last drop out of his dick last Monday.

You’re glad he has the rice cakes going through his system right now. Poor onlooker Winnie the Pooh is probably traumatized by now. There’s only so much crazy dicksucking a bear can handle watching. And still, he gazes at the two of you— in good spirits as ever, cheeks big and bright. In a way, he looks like Yuzu in this very moment.

„How you like it?,“ you softly caress his pinkish lips. „I need to know how many stars to leave on the website.“

It takes a few moments until he can form words again. His speech is fast. He’s still staring at the dildo.

„It was in so deep and, and on my tongue. The dick veins, I could feel them. They were like, like, it was massaging my lips. And I almost thought I could swallow it.“

You raise your brows. Lord knows how deep your cock was inside his brain, but he still picks these things up.

„Attention to detail. Nice.“

Maybe 4.5 stars are a fair deal. At least for throat fucking. The rest — remains to be seen.

„Did I do well?“

His eyes widen. The question is genuine. It’s not something you’d think he would ask. Whenever he trained, he would always rely on his own judgment.

„Ask yourself first, you were the one feeling it.“

That’s not the answer he expected, and he ends up getting red cheeks.

„I liked it,“ he stammers. „Was really hot.“

„It’s what I saw, too. Good job, babe.“

He’s blushing even more now.

„Ah— I think I tried my best.“

You smile and cup his slobbery face. So you’ve taken his throat virginity in the most spit-heavy way possible. He looks cuter than ever.

„Listen. You’re a champ. If I could, I would cum deep inside of you.“

„I think, that would be romantic,“ his wet lips break into an upbeat smile. Yuzu’s eyes get all crinkly.

„You bet.“

A big doting kiss for Yuzu’s forehead is the only thing your brain can conjure up at this point, so you briefly lean down to do it. Maybe Shia LaBeouf is not just exclusively at home in Yuzu’s imagination.

What you have to admit is that Yuzu’s overflowing athlete’s spirit has easily taken over your hips. You didn’t think you could move properly for that long. Maybe you still have some energy reservoirs left.

„And, and now?“

„I can stuff you with more dick. Up to you. Mister Lube didn’t run out yet. And if Pooh still likes watching.“

By instinct, Yuzuru’s hands snake behind his back to grip his ass, stroking what he knows is your delightful next target. You can tell by his eyes that there are a thousand scenarios going through his head.

„Pooh likes this… very much. He’s never seen something like that before. I think he is curious.“

It doesn’t take a Sherlock’s mind for you to know that he means— himself.

„I mean. I was surprised. If that monster fits into your little throat,“ you add, „anything is possible.“

That’s the final straw.

„I’ll do it,“ he says, moments later on all fours, face lowered and then rested sidewards on the bed, spreading his ass cheeks. Decision making when it comes to strap stuff is Yuzu’s forte, you jot that down in your invisible sex life journal. Not one bit of hesitation. By the looks of it, a very twitching entrance is waiting for you.

Testing period is over.

„Alright. I got something to drive home.“

Now that you think of it. If his ass is already only half as naughty as his mouth, you’ll need the help of a higher power.

„Shit. I think, it relaxes.“

At the expense of your mattress and blanket getting even more greasy with lube, you ease in the tip after massaging it into his sphincter. Yuzu’s ass still has to deal with that new sensation given how his leg muscles are going all bonkers. But indeed he’s grown receptive.

„Comfy like that?“

„B—big…“

„Attention, just a little tweak before I go on. Here.“

You softly press down on his spine with your palm entirely flat, and his back obliges immediately. His arch is leaving you breathless.

Yuzu’s head and chest are snug and soft against the bed while his ass is far, far up. He smiles seeing you venerate his back, he didn’t miss your reaction in the least. No surprise a third of your cock gets sucked into his ass just moments later. It caught you off guard.

Judging by Yuzu’s little yelp and his eyes rolling back, the way you went right into him has found pleasure. The bedposts creak a little because Yuzuru’s legs are shivering. As is his voice.

„I love it, I lo-, please, my, my ass!“

„Can I move?“

„Yes, please!“

The arch did the trick. You love your boyfriend. What follows is a slowly plunging series of rewards, ten, eleven times, pulling at his gripping asshole until it surrenders into going loose. Yuzuru has almost accommodated a third of the length you’re engraving into his ass. You’ll definitely keep using that brand of lube.

„Here, babe. I got a present for your prostate.“

Yuzu is making your favorite lawless face when you hit the spot, controlling the base of the dildo with two your fingers going around it like a cock ring. He looks as if someone just handed him a trophy too big to carry. From his perineum, a thread of lube comes dripping down with a squelching noise. The poor sheets. It’s another virginity taken.

In the meantime, Yuzu grabs hold of the duvet with unsteady hands. His entire torso is nothing but a shaky mess. So erratic. And sweaty. And docile. And beautiful. You want to award him plenty, your little present from above, the jittery boy underneath you.

Pounding away and making him grit his teeth is worth heading for a mean cramp, you don’t care. Watching how your cock is plowing in and out of him at jerky angles with the absolute lewdest, bubbling noises recompensates for anything.

Yuzu’s rolling eyes have become spaced out and teary, making him look like a crying saint about to enter the golden gates of heaven. Who knew angels had black hair.

With every stroke, his ass becomes every bit accepting to the point of almost glaring open to let you thrust in. Thank God. You compliment yourself on not falling short of the arguably lofty promise to relax him. Moaning Yuzu’s little ass is swallowing it all.

By the time, his rectum is going hollow and sticky, welcoming every move of yours by giving you ample right of passage. During some thrusts, you don’t even see his sphincter hold on to the dildo at all. His ass is almost as dilated as his loose mouth itself. Your thrusts are working on their own again at this point. What instinct is propelling you, who knows.

You love the sight and the happy squeals. You tease him with more speed. Not without effect, your hips lunge and aim deep all the more. You penetrate him far enough to start an excavation for ancient relics next Monday. With the tempo increasing, so does the chesty volume in his voice.

„It’s,“ he cries out, „in my belly! Ah! Ah, shit! Shit...“

You see Yuzu let go of the duvet with his left hand. It promptly darts way down to his abdomen where his fingers grope around.

„I can feel it,“ he whines, „It’s rubbing there, it’s a big bump!“

You sure won’t deprive your own hand from that sensation and reach right down, too. Which means leaning forward— and stuffing your strap even harder into his guts. Yuzu gasps out loud. Both your hands meet fondling about, cupping the sensitive area in search for the imprint of the dildo.

What Yuzu says is not understated. His slender little belly is all bulged out in the bottom quarter. Since he’s so thin, it’s almost scary how much your cock just dents him out and twists around.

„Jesus, Yuzu,“ you let your hand roam next to his, even lightly squeezing the area. It’s what really riles him.

What you thought was the maximum for him to take turns out to be nothing but a mere start. Yuzu is so obsessed to feel the bulge more that he starts bucking his ass onto your cock with the most unbridled voice cracks.

You can’t lie. His moans make your jaw drop. His usually so controlled body on the ice is now wrecking and writhing itself to get more dick.

A thin line of sweat goes on a pilgrimage down his spine already. He impales himself more, gyrates his hips more, whines out more. You wonder how he keeps it together and doesn’t spritz all his cum over the bed and the floor tiles.

It’s the sheer force of will. Always hungry for the next level. You can’t help but admire how enduring he is. And that’s just the first time.

Yuzu’s feet have become agitated on the sheets, responding to every thrust by dangling and swishing around. Yesterday, his right ankle was all stiff and even a bit swollen. Now, it’s moving all over the place. Looks like doggy style is putting all the tension off the ligaments. It’s something else you take deliberate note of.

After five more thrusts and hearing his whimpers getting all drawn-out, eventually, you retreat for a break, letting your cock rest on his left ass cheek. Yuzu inhales, gathering himself. He looks at you with big, glazed bambi eyes. Maybe even a bit incredulous.

„Am I, am I gaping?“

You don’t have to check twice to know.

„All lose. If you knew how far I can see inside of you. Hole new world.“

„Y/N!“

He can’t hold eye contact now.

„Naughty, huh. But I like what I see.“

Goddamn great ass. You firmly smack Yuzu squarely across his right butt cheek. He twitches, clenches, bites his lips more. They tremble.

„Ah! You tease!“

„Want me to put it in again?“

Wild nodding. Looks like Yuzu’s usual voracity on the ice does an easy, albeit not entirely seamless transfer to bed, too. He still ogles what is about to stretch him out again with due respect. He still can’t fathom something this massive was inside of him, you can tell.

Once you start moving again, you notice his feet and thigh muscles violently jerking. His prostate has gotten all sensitive. Probably all spongy and large by now.

You decide to angle yourself differently and take a deep breath. Impossible to draw this out any longer. From the vicinity of Yuzu’s pillow, you grasp the Winnie Pooh plush toy and maneuver it into his awaiting embrace. He holds it tight in an instant.

With impatient hands, you fumble around the bed for the lube bottle until you find it next to his right foot. Two, three, four generous squeezes onto his asshole, not very accurate at all. Several fine, oily traces end up trickling down his inner thighs. You don’t even bother closing the bottle properly anymore. Too much adrenaline.

„Grab those sheets and Pooh, Yuzu, grab hard.“

„I got it!“

„Time I fuck you up. If you’re ready?“

„Yes, make me cum, make me cum! Please break my ass,“ he’s whimpering. So badly. „I want it! I want it all inside.“

Mister Lube has a last job to handle.

Yuzu has crammed three fingers into his mouth once you get a hold of his hair and deliver the last hard movements. He takes the blows all babbling and sucking himself off. How his ass is not completely falling apart by now is a miracle of nature. Or maybe, just the blessing of his daily training.

The room is heavy with the scent of sweat and cherries. He’s loosened his core so much that sliding in is not a question of you avoiding a cramp anymore, but technique. You feel focused to zero in and not miss the sweet, tender spot. It makes him mewl the first time you push your dick tip right into it.

The second time, his eyes get big and fluttering.

„Please. Please, hurt me,“ he salivates, then eventually, grabs his plush harder. „Hurt me bad. I’m really begging you.“

Fast to oblige, you claw your hands around his waist and pull his body backwards. The ten nails digging into him are only the last needed set-up. The last jab comes in crisp, landing a severe and punctuated shock. Yuzu’s ass smacks up hard at your loins. The pain quickly snakes right up his spine and leaves his face contorted.

„Oh fuck…!“

Small, shaking Yuzu cums like fifty fireworks going off at once. Not even releasing his screams into the duvet really helps to mute out the heaviness of the first waves. You keep your cock right in place and let it buffer into his prostate at will.

Yuzu’s legs kick and tangle under you like pasta in boiling water. He cries and groans and curses, and cries out even more. You can see his entire back muscles at work now, going like clockwork. His moans each sound so ecstatic, it registers as a different language to you. He spirals far into his orgasm, sobbing, and it looks beautiful.

„Amazing, Yuzu.“

His semen lands all over his sternum and the sheets, shooting out in several bursts, one more pumping than the other. It’s almost as if all that strawberry juice converted nicely into a blotchy, white fluid.

His dick is still tensing up completely sensitive. Releasing cum, up until his legs stop going all over the place. Yuzu doesn’t let the sperm cool for twenty seconds that he already reaches down to pick it up, jerking his cock a last dozen times, only to bring to his mouth what his fingers collected. He sucks up all of it.

„Delicious, baby?“

„M—hm!“

„So nicely milked.“

His relished expression. You imagine that this must have been how the gods first tasted nectar.

While he licks away, Yuzu goes limp head to toe with you carefully pulling out your dick. Inch by inch. Not pulling. Only gliding.

Once you’ve removed the tip, he collapses into a sniffing, giggly puddle of serotonin. Crying, even when you lend him both your hands to lay his face into.

He’s so gorgeous.

Breathing hard, sweaty, drooling and messed up. His body is so steamy and loose, splayed out all the way before you. His entrance has turned all pink so beautifully. Hot. As. Fuck.

Most psychologists would envy you for being able to gaze this far into Yuzuru Hanyu’s innermost clenching being. How his ass is going to close until tomorrow’s competition, you don’t know.

Time to pray he won’t digest these savory cakes too fast. Then again, he didn’t eat properly at all. His body is probably soaking up all the fruit and rice in their entirety.

You pat his lower back gently, making sure to lay him down into a sleeping position already. Pooh is right by his side. Yuzu’s legs are still so dangly.

He’s really let go completely. You’ve not fucked his ass, but his soul.

You want to thank him for trusting you so much. Beside the shady black box manufacturer.

The bed is a glorious mess.

Removing the strap-on harness makes you feel just how loosened your own limbs have become, too. Come to think of it, this might be your new heavy-duty workout. None of your friends know you do this kind of cardio involving the best ass in the whole city as your personal trainer.

Yuzu’s butt has turned you into a drenched, wobbly homo sapiens that will probably look in the mirror by tomorrow and proclaim herself a bodybuilder from those sheer muscle burn gains.

When the two of you show up at the rink tomorrow, you both need hunky guys carrying you in by the armpits or something.

And the whole world will wonder how Yuzu’s wonky ankle magically recovered overnight but he can’t sit.

Changing the duvet at quarter past twelve with an unmovable Yuzu on top of it seems like a thing of the impossible. It’s soiled, it’s sweaty, it would probably make it to the first page if a reporter ever got hold of it.

But you take it pragmatically and opt for sleeping on Yuzu’s cleaner side of the bed intertwined. It’s surprisingly dry there. Big laundry day tomorrow, anyway.

The only thing you manage to do is reach for the window to open and to grab a glass of water from the bedstand to share. He’s chugging the remaining half down in one go. His hands? Oh wonder.

More than steady.

He calmed completely. After he puts down the glass, you scoot closer to him.

„Your foot — better?“

„Oh? I didn’t even think about it.“

He wriggles his left leg back and forth underneath the blanket, then concludes with a surprised face:

„It’s turning pretty well? I think you hit a nerve. Maybe you should split me in half more often.“

He shrugs. Yuzu’s serious face while saying that so dryly makes you laugh.

„Looks like it,“ you draw out the open lube bottle from beside you, finally closing the lid. „Do you… need a towel?“

„I just need you. I have to be disgusting for once.“

„I’ll scrape that all off tomorrow before we leave. Hot shower, five tons of shampoo. I’ll be breaking out the stuff you clean your skates with if I have to.“

That makes Yuzu chuckle. In fact, he beams a little.

„Sounds like something to look forward to.“

„I hope you can walk, anyway. Is it painful?“

Your biggest sorrow at this point. Taking his mind off was easy, but now he’s got boneless legs. Your conscience nags you for dicking him down out of all possible things.

„You have your weapon license now. I gotta admit… the last one…“

…was ass destruction 3.0, you complete his sentence in your mind. It’s nothing a normal human being could have stomached. „I’ll manage, though. I still feel my legs.“

„God, how does he do it.“

A smug „He’s Yuzuru Hanyu, that’s how, aw yeah!“ is what you imagine God’s answer to sound like. But instead, all you get is a little smile. Very well, from the little God in your bed.

„Pooh did this. When I squeezed him, I knew I could take it.“

He reaches to the middle of the bed. Five consecutive head pats for the bear plushie and Yuzu looks content already.

„Winning medals with just one working ankle is the same as doing it with a demolished ass to you, huh.“

„It’s not demolished, it’s improved and overhauled,“ he smiles. „Never felt any better. It was really good how you did this.“

It’s his strangest sport philosophy yet. But if you know one thing, it’s that Yuzu’s bizarre body hacks have gotten him the podium every time. You can already see him asking for another strap round before your mind’s eye. Before the next competition, at least.

„You honestly blow my mind.“

„And your dick, tomorrow night,“ goes Yuzu’s cheeky winner grin. There it is. Insatiable how you love it. You already feel the need to google ‚hip thrust strengthening exercises’.

Maybe, if science advances to that point one day, you honestly clone yourself so double your capacity. And so that you can spitroast him. Maybe you order another dildo from the website and pin it to the wall, anyways.

„Must be Mister Lube who did all of this.“

„I want to buy more of it tomorrow. Any other groceries we need, anyway? I’ll be cleaning the floor, too. I hope I’m not too worn-out after skating.“

„We’ll do one thing after the other, alright. There are still rice cakes left for breakfast, those will get you through the day.“

You’ve seen how much of an energy burst the cakes gave him.

„I really like those,“ he mumbles, then nuzzles into the pillow, sucking in your hair’s scent. Oh, it’s the moment you waited for. „Snickers diva… happy.“

A very cheery, puffy face slowly comes to rest beside you now, hair going in all directions. Infallible and ever-returning: Professor Yuzu’s explosive hairdo. Pooh is all clingy at his chest. A little worn from all the squeezing, but still with an amicable chuckle. You smile from ear to ear. It’s the most adorable thing you’ve ever seen.

You kiss Yuzuru’s little nose and lips until he’s making sleepy sounds. Either this is a late-night mirage created by your very moan-tested ears, or he is actually purring. You make sure the Pooh plush resting at his chest faces him correctly, then clear away the remaining strawberries, shut the window, arrange the blanket, put on your pajamas properly.

The humidifier whirrs in the background while tiger baby does one last big yawn before drifting off. In a matter of two minutes, maybe even less than that.

Just as you reach toward the bedstand to switch off the light, Yuzu’s hand curls into your shirt from behind. You turn, he is all dozed off. Not one leg fidgeting. However, talking in his sleep with his hand nestled into your PJs.

„Big hug please, Pooh mama.“

#figure skating #yuzuru hanyu #yuzuru hanyu smut #yuzuru hanyu x reader #yuzuru hanyu fanfic #figure skating fanfic #fs #figure skating smut #sub!yuzuru #dom!reader #treats for you #original content

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dragonrajafanfiction · 3 years

Text

Chizuru Town (Part 1)

In the game you wake up on the beach in Chizuru with NO IDEA how you got there.

I have a little fun with it. Enjoy!

“MC!”

The children’s voices were happy and oddly squeaky. They draw you out of unconsciousness. Your body feels a bit cold, and you shiver.

“MC!” They keep calling you. You’re lying face up but their hands are pressed against your back. They keep pushing you from below.

You take a breath and feel the cold shock of water up your nose. The choking sensation makes you want to bolt upright but something is holding you up on the surface of the water. You catch a glimpse of silver grey, rubbery skin. A thin slit in that skin opens and sprays a mist with a sharp whoosh. The children’s voices are replaced by the squealing and whistling of dolphins.

Dolphins! Their sharp pointed fins are cutting through the water. You can see their bright eyes turn to look up at you. The way their mouths curve in their snouts gives them a smile. But they were powerful, insistent creatures. The moment you tried to swim on your own, they pushed you out of the water again.

The salt water in your mouth, the frigid breeze against your sun warmed skin told you this wasn’t a dream. You’d heard stories of dolphins rescuing people before, but you’d never actually thought you’d get to experience being carried on these muscular bodies.

There were more surrounding you. Their sparkling backs broke the surface, no doubt watching. One eventually peeled off and another replaced them and you realized they were taking turns carrying you along. The sun was about halfway across the sky now and you could see the sparkling white sand of a small beach. The beach was only a few yards wide before it hit the seawall. You could climb up the seawall by what looked like stairs that led to a main street.

You gather your arms about yourself. What little clothing had survived the ghost tooth dragon vipers was torn away by the water and water-born debris. You were completely naked. You already were in the country illegally. You couldn’t imagine what would happen if you just showed up completely exposed like this. But how would you get any clothing?

The dolphins didn’t care about this at all. They pressed forward. If they knew anything about humans, it was that humans belonged on land and, for whatever reason, they had made it their mission to get you to the land as soon as possible. They pushed you with their snouts so hard you thought you might bruise and swam so quickly, you formed a wake in the water. You were already weak from fatigue and dehydration. There was no way you could fight them.

So you are pushed like a buoy towards the shore. When the water got too shallow the dolphins were forced to turn back or risk beaching themselves. Still, they swam a close distance away. Your body was shaking at a steady constant rate and the warm sand was irresistible. You lay down and sigh.

After a bit of rest, you pick a shadier spot against the wall, out of the sun and hopefully out of the prying eyes of people walking by. The dolphins follow you, spy hopping and watching. This was all so surreal.

You were supposed to be dead.

Again.

When you were younger, you read a book about a world where there was almost no difference between heaven, hell, and the living world. People died and woke up again to a place they found familiar and only vaguely strange. The book was deliberately unsettling, meant to blur the line between reality and dreams. The protagonist wasn’t sure if he was still alive, in heaven, or in hell, and the reader was not to know either until the end.

You’re feeling this way now. You thought you had died in the Arctic ocean, only to be thrown into a chaotic dragonslaying academy. Now you thought you died, only to wake up to a school of dolphins after nearly getting eaten by a dragon.

How are you alive after all that has happened? Maybe you weren’t alive. Maybe this was hell and you were suffering multiple deaths. The dolphins chattered brightly ahead of you, but now their sounds seemed more like they were mocking you, naked, on the sand alone, alive again with no friends.

There was no sign of Lu Mingfei, Chu Zihang or Caesar Gattuso. Were they saved by dolphins too? Or left to drown and be eaten? Was God only with you and not with them? Your mind starts to form an idea. You can test out this theory. Worst case scenario was that you died for real and you’d long since gotten over that fear.

You stand up and brush the sand off your bare bottom. You would take your time to rest and hide out until night fell and then use the dark to your advantage.

Fatigue made you sleep longer than you wanted. Darkness has truly fallen when you wake up, stiff and achy. A greyish mat of sand has stuck to your whole body. You look back towards the ocean, but the dolphins are gone. You waddle out on wobbly legs and wash the sand away. After so much time in the water, the feel of it on your skin was suddenly abhorrent and you would be happy if you never spent another day in the ocean as long as you lived.

The theory that you’re actually dead and none of this was real was again challenged by how hard it was to make it up the stairs. You were so exhausted, starving and dehydrated that you swayed. You’d give anything for a bowl of hot ramen, served up fresh with a bit of egg floating on top.

You heard a voice cry out. A young couple was out for a stroll and had spotted you. You must look like a monster, hair long and matted and no clothes at all. Sure enough, they back away moaning with trembling voices before turning to run off, screaming something you can’t understand. Further up towards the street, you see bright lights. The smell of vendors cooking street food makes your stomach rumble. You couldn’t be out in the open, but maybe if you got close enough, you could dumpster dive and find some clothes. You sneak behind the back of the nearest building, a stucco box with a small front yard. The young man of the couple returns with a few other people. He’s speaking breathlessly, pointing towards the ocean. Poor guy. No doubt he thought he’d seen some ghost girl come from the ocean. This is probably something that would traumatize him for life.

You hear a small noise next to you. A little black cat is pawing at you. You could barely see it in the shadows. It didn’t care that you weren’t wearing clothes. Its fur was soft and warm and its purrs were comforting. You run your hand over its head and ears and it crawls into your lap. You would have liked to own a cat someday. You always liked them. They were funny and cute and very affectionate like this one. When you raise your eyes, your heart leaps. There are clothes hanging on a clothesline from a house not too far away!

You scramble quickly towards it, careful not to step on anything that might make noise. You check every gap to make sure that no one can see you. Then as soon as you reach the clothing, you carefully yank it off the line. It was just one of the local school uniforms. The white button down top was a bit small, but the wine-colored skirt fits you just fine around the waist. You were only a bit older than Renata when she died so this was probably the outfit of a highschool student.

Your eyes fall on the back door of the house. That’s right, Japanese don’t wear shoes in the house. These shoes were laid out neatly on the rack. You glance around and carefully approach, snatching what you hope will fit you. They’re just the right size, much to your shock. This surprise is enough to send a jolt of happiness through you. Now clothed, you return to the cat and pick it up in your arms and walk out on the street. The first thing you saw was a sign that said, Chizuru.

Before arriving in Japan, Norma, the school AI had told you about a place called Chizuru being a safe haven and to find an Internet Cafe there if you ever got into trouble. The hairs rose on the back of your arms. How could this be possible that dolphins not only save your life, but take you directly to the place that you needed to be? You sang the song that said ‘God is with you’ but it was supposed to be a metaphor right?

You approach a man on the street who looks at you with a stunned expression. “I… excuse…”

Before you can ask anything, he shakes his head again and again and flees from you. “Wait! I need…”

You try again, this time of one of the vendors, an old craggy-faced man who stares at you with a black expression until you give up.

Burned, you just decide to wander around until you see something that looks like an internet cafe. It wouldn’t be in a neighborhood. More likely closer to the city center, on a main street. You head that way, away from the beach and the houses. The city center seems much quieter than you would expect it to be. You stop.

A group of people are standing on the street, five men in black leather jackets displaying flaming Oni masks. One had a wild looking tall mohawk dyed red. His black jeans reached down to black leather boots studded with silver spikes. It was as if the black dragon that tried to eat you had turned human and walked on land.

He turned his head and spotted you. It was too late to hide. His eyes ran up and down the length of you and he grinned, and made a slow whistling noise. You may have been raised in an orphanage but you weren’t that naive to not know what that smile meant. You’d seen it before on some of the staff who liked to take advantage of the older girls there.

So you didn’t need to know the vulgar words coming out of their mouth. You set the kitten down on a nearby trash can and pat it on the head, quietly telling it to stay in Russian. The cat obliged, and started to clean its paws.

In the orphanage, you were taught hand to hand basics until you were strong enough to actually use it in a fight. The trainings were very light against each other and you weren’t allowed to cause injury, but there was no gender splitting. You were only hybrids. Whether you were male or female, it didn’t matter so long as you had dragonblood in your veins.

Because of your background, you didn’t show the same innocent fear that these men may have been accustomed to from someone your age, in that clothing. You stared them straight in the eyes, your arms at your side, not moving forward or back. This nonchalant attitude made them stand there in brief bewilderment. The one with the mohawk was clearly the bolder of the five and he shouted something at you that you don’t understand. You just shake your head.

“I need to find the Internet Café…” You make a gesture with your hands to pantomime typing at a computer. They started to laugh, elbowing each other and nodding. You sigh. You’re so tired and it showed on your face.

Your lack of Japanese and your weary expression was an invitation to attack and they approached you now.

In the orphanage, no one would approach you like this in such a joking manner. Especially not on the training grounds. The Mohawk’s hands were relaxed. He was confident. He wasn’t watching your hands ball into fists as tight as stones and he wasn’t watching the sudden shift in your feet as you moved into a sturdy stance. He reached out with his hand to your elbow. So he was unable to block or dodge your fist that struck him like lightning.

He didn’t just feel pain or stagger back. The man felt flat to his side, straight to the pavement, and he didn’t get up. The eyes of his four friends followed him down with a stunned feeling. You knew that feeling. Like they suddenly found themselves in a fantasy world where a high school girl in a school uniform could knock out a gangster with a single hit?

Maybe this was a fantasy world and you were a fantasy high schooler. After all, you were carrying a cat!

They all turned to you in unison and you attacked the next one, levering back on one leg and slamming him with a kick to the solar plexus. He staggered back, wheezing, curling in on himself, once or twice..

The next one now had the wherewithal to produce a switchblade. He swung it wildly at where your heart should have been, but the blouse was a bit open where it was too tight and he caught a glimpse of the fact that you’re not wearing anything underneath. Your hand caught his wrist and you pulled hard, driving your knee directly into his crotch.

His grip on the knife released as he slowly sank to the ground and you swiped it easily. You give it a toss and catch it by the handle. Now the smile is on your face and there’s no pleasure in it as you stare down the final two gangsters.

One gives up and turns to run, arms pinwheeling comically as his oni mask jacket flapped in the breeze created by his own flight.

The last one was backing away, stumbling over his feet, crawling back upright. And when he does get up, you see something in his hand, shiny and black.

A gun. You hadn’t seen one in a while and you stopped. You couldn’t do anything about this. He just needed to pull the trigger and you were gone. But this was a world where you couldn’t die… right?

A man in a white shirt and black slacks leaped out from behind a car and a bright metal arc gave off sparks as it neatly cut the gun in half. Chu Zihang’s sword then rested its edge on the man’s throat

The man stared at his severed gun in silence a moment before he noticed the blade.

“Senpai!” You joyfully run forward and wrap your arms around Zihang.

Zihang looks bewildered, unsure of what to do. His free hand hovers over your shoulder… head… and then he settles on patting you on the back.

The man at his mercy is trembling in terror at the discovery that this warrior girl in a school uniform somehow has a ‘Senpai’ at all. His companions are already staggering away, one of them limping and bowlegged as he flees.

Chu Zihang raised his hand and rubbed his thumb and fingers together in the universal sign for ‘money’. You stick his tongue out at him.

The man was quick to oblige, tossing him his wallet. Chu Zihang lowered his sword. After examining the contents, he picked out a few bills and handed the man his wallet back but he was already running away.

“Were you just going to let him shoot you?” He asked.

You opened your mouth. “Yes… but!” You raise a finger to halt objections. “I knew something would happen to keep me from dying!”

Chu Zihang shook his head slowly. “Where’s Lu Mingfei and Caesar?”

Your expression sobers. “I don’t know. I was looking for the Internet Cafe…”

He walks over to a vending machine and puts in the money to buy you something to eat. You return to where the cat is resting on the trash can. “What a good kitty!” You whisper, ,gathering it up in your arms.

“You shouldn’t keep that.” The Machine is pouring out noodles with soup broth base. Your stomach rumbles and the cat meows.

“Is there something for Kitty?” You ask.

Chu Zihang sighs again. The man gave the whole wallet, after all. Chu Zihang orders some dried squid for the cat.

In a few moments both you and Kitty are sitting against the building. You’re so hungry that you scald your mouth on the soup, but you don't care. Chu Zihang is silent, still standing guard and watching. With your hunger sated, you look up at him. “You’re the team lead right?”

“Only if I find out Caesar is dead.”

“You think he’s alive? Do you want me to call you boss?”

“No.”

“Okay boss.”

You look up at him and he’s scowling at you, not in the mood for your jokes, or your kitten. “How did you survive?”

“You’re not going to believe this. A pod of dolphins brought me all the way here.”

Much to your surprise he believes you. “That’s true. The dolphins here are very friendly to the locals. In fact there was a story I read about that...”

There was a sudden cacophony of roaring engines. Chu Zihang grabs you and together you duck behind the parked cars. Motorcycles, dozens of them, are all roaring off in one direction, their lights streaming towards a single destination. Among them were vans filled with people with automatic weapons. Right after that, all the lights go out in Chizuru. From the tallest building, to the smallest house, even the lights illuminating the advertisements go dark.

Chu Zihang sighed deep in his chest. “I have a bad feeling Caesar is that way.”

#Dragon Raja

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thicctails · 3 years

Text

Summer of Whump Day 10 [Camping/Trapped]

Hhhhh I am so behIND SCHEDULE

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Omega shifted on her pile of blankets, trying to get comfortable. Pillow’s quiet snores were all she heard as she stared tiredly into the darkness. Her salamander friend hadn’t stopped growing, and he was beginning to take up quite a bit of space. He was more of a “Bed” than a Pillow at this point. His large tail swung around as he dreamed, the appendage catching her in the side. She let out a quiet cough, pushing the heavy tail off of herself. Enough was enough. She obviously wasn’t going to be getting any sleep like this.

Grabbing her favourite datapad, she jumped down onto the floor, not worrying about the slight noise that came as a result. Almost everyone was out gathering needed supplies, leaving Wrecker as her sole guardian for the night. Wrecker was, as usual, trying to sleep off his headache. Omega wandered throughout the ship, eventually deciding to curl up in the pilot’s seat to read. The seat dwarfed her, and it still amazed her that, someday, it wouldn’t seem so big.

The datapad’s gentle glow was soothing, but the story it held wasn’t all that long. It was a children’s story about a little Porg that was different from his other siblings. She loved this story, because at the end the little Porg found a family that loved him, even if he looked different. After she’d reread it a few times, Omega set the datapad down and stared out of the windshield. The night brought a sense of calm to the planet they had been staying on for the past week, and as much as she loved the energetic hustle and bustle of the marketplace during the day, a break was always nice.

Her eyes widened as she spotted something that she’d never seen before. A blink of light appeared before her, just outside the protection of the windshield. They glowed for a moment, then faded, then appeared again. Omega sits there, watching the lights in wonderment. Then, one lands on the glass, and she sees that it’s a bug that’s glowing.

“Whoa.” Omega breathes.

She wants to see the fascinating bugs up close, so she opened the Havoc Marauder’s door and steps out into the warm night air. She walked around to the front of the ship, staring in delight as the blinking insects flit around her. One lands on Omega’s nose, blinking every few seconds.

The young girl giggled, the light shining in her large brown eyes. The insect slowly lifted off, its tiny wings buzzing slightly. Omega followed after it, wanting to see where the little bug was going.

The glowing animal led her beyond the ship, and more and more bugs joined them as they neared an open field. Nocturnal flowers bloomed under the combined glow of three moons, and unseen animals chirped in the trees. Omega ran her hand along the tall, soft grass, feeling the dew that had formed. A frog jumped out of the grass, its bulbous throat expanding as it croaked. Omega, who had only ever seen the animal in datapads, crouched down and stared in awe at the smooth amphibian. The frog croaked again, hopping into the grass again. She followed it, hopping as it had. She giggled as she jumped up and down, her head popping up above the grass every few seconds.

Suddenly, her foot slipped, and Omega yelped as she began to tumble downwards. Rocks and roots scratched up her skin, and to top it all off, she hit something hard once she reached the bottom of whatever ditch she’d fallen into. Coughing, she rolled onto her side, wincing when she felt her shoulder scream in protest. Biting her lip, she used her legs to maneuver herself into a sitting position. Now that she was no longer face down in the dirt, she blinked, taking in her surroundings. Within seconds, she spotted something white laying in the dirt. Confused, she peered at it, leaning forward. It looked like…

She gasped, scrambling back.

That was clone trooper armor.

Panicked, she pressed herself against the side of the ditch. She tried to get to her feet, but a sharp pain in her lower back had her sliding back down. Her breaths came in shallow pants as she curled up into a ball, hoping beyond hope that her lack of movement might save her life.

A long, tense moment passed, but the clone trooper showed no sign of movement. Afraid, but curious now, Omega crept forward, her body shivering in pain as she moved. Now that she was closer, she could see that, like the armor of the Bad Batch, there were stripes of colour on this clone’s armor. Lines of blue decorated the scuffed white suit, and she found herself reaching out to touch them. The paint was chipped in some areas, and she could feel scratches in the armor. Whoever this was, they’d been around for a while.

She paused for a moment, trying to sense with the Force what exactly she was dealing with here. No buzz of danger had appeared, and she actually felt a pleasant, warm feeling in her chest. This person, it seemed, was not unknown to the Force, and it seemed to like him. Deciding to take the risk, she used her good arm to remove the clone’s helmet. She needed to find out why he had collapsed here, and to check if he was even alive. Breathing could be hard to see under plastoid.

She was surprised to see that the man’s hair was blonde like hers, and she wondered what gene had been modified in the two of them to give them both the unique hair colour. Placing the helmet aside with care, she saw a small prick of dried blood on the clone’s neck. Had he been shot with something?

Omega pressed two fingers to the man’s throat, holding her breath as she waited. There was a good chance that she was touching a corpse right now, and that idea didn’t sit right with her.

Lub dub… lub dub…

Oh good. Not touching a corpse.

Exhaling in relief, Omega sat back down, hissing as the pain in her lower back started up again. As much as she liked the high level of movement her normal clothes gave her, perhaps she should start looking into ways of making herself a suit of armor. With all the trouble she got into, it might be worth the effort.

The nighttime animals sung all around her, and despite her less than awesome situation, she smiled. She wasn’t alone, and she wasn’t in total silence, two things she was very grateful for, even if her company was a stranger who could, at any given time, wake up and decide to kill her.

Actually, maybe she should take his blaster.

Just as she started to reach over, a sound made her freeze. Something had just stepped on a stick.

Moving into a crouch, Omega peered upwards towards the ditch’s ridge. The tall grass swayed, obscuring her sight. She kept staring, sure that she had heard something. However, when nothing appeared, she looked away, easing herself back down into a sitting position, rubbing at her sore shoulder. Distracted by her pain, she failed to notice the growing buzz at the back of her mind. Until, of course, it became a screaming alarm bell that was yelling “LOOK OUT, MORON!”

Omega’s head snapped up as a snarl shattered the night’s calm existence. She flinched back as a lithe figure leapt down into the ditch. It looked like a long Loth Cat, bigger in size and sporting a thin, spine-covered tail. The animal stared at Omega, it’s large, silver eyes making her tense up in fear. It considered her for a moment, then turned towards the downed clone. It opened its mouth, saliva dripping down its fangs.

“Oh no you don’t. You’re not eating him!” Omega yelled, grabbing a nearby rock and throwing it at the cat. The feline hissed, jumping back. It growled at Omega, its tail flicking back and forth.

The command to get back passed through her head, and she listened to the instinct. Her body made its displeasure known as she threw herself away from the animal, landing on her back as a spray of quills embedded themselves into the dirt. The pain stunned her for only a moment, but it was for longer than she could afford. A weight appeared on her chest, pressing down on her collarbone. Curved claws pricked her skin, causing beads of blood to seep into her shirt.

Omega yelped, trying to kick the cat off with her good leg, but the animal simply scratched the limb with a hind paw, slicing the skin of her knee open. Tears pricked at her eyes as adrenaline kicked in, her body going into panic mode. Her brain shoved the memory of one of Hunter’s lessons into her immediate thoughts, and she swung her fist up towards the cat’s face, trying to catch it in the eye. She managed to land a hit, and the animal screeched in pain. Its head jerked back, and she punched it again, this time in the throat.

The large feline fell back, allowing a bleeding Omega to put some distance in between them. Her body shook as she tried to figure out what to do. She didn’t have much time; the animal was already rolling back onto its paws. She reached out, trying to connect with the Force. If she really did have a connection with it, than she should be able to do something!

A feeling of strength and power rippled through Omega suddenly, settling in the palms of her hands. It felt as though she could grab anything within a few feet of her, although she wasn’t quite sure how. However, she didn’t have a chance to try, as the cat was now coming at her again, claws unsheathed and fangs bared. Terrified and out of options, she focused on the cat, closed her eyes, and swung her hand to the side as hard as she could.

The animal yowled in shock, flying into the wall of the ditch. Stunned, and now feeling tired, Omega stared at the animal, her eyes wide. She… she had done it! She’d used the Force!

The cat shook its head, whipping around to snarl at Omega. The girl’s excitement disappeared. Apparently, she hadn’t used it well enough to dissuade the predator. Omega shrunk back, too hurt and tired and scared to think of another plan. The feline dropped down, its eyes locking onto her as it pounced forward, jaws open wide. Omega shut her eyes and covered her face with the arm she could still use, awaiting the attack.

…

But it never came.

Instead, the sound of a blaster being fired made her open her eyes and lower her arm. The cat was on its side, unmoving but still breathing. She looked to her left, and there was the clone, holstering his blaster. She felt relief wash over her when, upon noticing her, the man didn’t move to shoot her too.

“Are you alright, little ‘un?” His voice sounded groggy, like he’d just woken up from a nap.

Omega nodded, not sure she could do much else.

The clone stared at her, his head tilting slightly. He blinked, like he wasn’t sure if he was seeing things right.

“I’ve seen a lot of clones in my lifetime, but never one that looked like you.” He smiled at her, before looking around cautiously. “Where did you come from? Are you runnin’ from the Empire too?”

“I-I am, but we’re not in any danger right now!” She said, stuttering a bit. Her pounding heart was making speech difficult. “I’m here with my family.”

“Family?” The man asked.

Omega’s cheeks turned a bit pink in embarrassment. “S-sorry! I meant my squad, not family...” She trailed off a bit at the end. Were they a family? Echo, Hunter, Wrecker, and Tech were all brothers, but she was something different, a clone that was even more different than they were. What was she to them?

“Your squad? What’s your squad number?” The other clone, who was getting to his feet, offered her a hand as he stood. She took it, not minding when he supported her with a second hand when her legs wobbled. The adrenaline was beginning to wear off, and she was starting to feel exhaustion seep into her muscles.

“Omega! Omega, where are you?!”

Omega looked up, a smile coming onto her face.

“Wrecker!” She yelled back.

“Wrecker? Wait…” The other clone seemed to come to a realization just as Wrecker appeared at the edge of the ditch. The enhanced clone tensed at the sight of someone holding Omega, before he realized who exactly he was looking at.

“Rex!” He cried, his face lighting up.

Omega felt Rex laugh, and she turned to look at him. The blonde was smiling and shaking his head.

“Of course.” He said, looking at Wrecker with a grin. “Of course it’s you crazy bastards.”

“You know him?” Omega asked, not really sure who she was directing the question to.

“Oh, for sure! Rex is an old friend of ours!” Wrecker said. “Now get up here so I can hug ‘ya!”

“I would, but this little one is hurt. I doubt she can climb out on her own.” Rex said, letting Omega lean on him. Side by side, they almost looked like they were a father and daughter.

“Oh kriff!” Wrecker cursed, just now noticing the bruises and cuts. “Hunter’s gonna kill me- what happened?!”

“A cat tried to eat Rex, but I distracted it.” Omega said, finding it hard to stay upright. “Then it tried to eat me.”

“While I’m not glad you got hurt, I must thank you for keeping that thing off me. You’re a very brave and very strong girl, Omega. Those Quill Prowlers are quite scary. I’m surprised you didn’t get hi-!” Rex cut himself off, looking down at Omega’s boots. “Oh dear.”

“What?” Omega and Wrecker asked at the same time. Omega looked down.

There was a quill sticking out of her boot.

“Oh.” She said, before promptly passing out.

#the bad batch #star wars the bad batch #star wars #omega whump #omega bad batch #wrecker bad batch #captain rex #rex clone wars #tw animal harm #summerofwhump #summerofwhump[10]

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twilights-800-cats · 3 years

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<< Chapter 7 || Chapter 8 || Chapter 9 || From the Beginning || Patreon >>

Chapter 8

Stoneheart’s mind began to race as he locked eyes with the foul-smelling IceClan cat glaring down at him. We’re in front of a Twoleg den, with a Thunderpath on one side and the fence to the den’s backyard on the other. We could chance crossing the Thunderpath, but - a monster rushing by, ignorant of the territorial cats, finished the thought for him.

Stoneheart unsheathed his claws, glancing at his Clanmates. Pinewhisker was already spitting at the ginger-and-white she-cat, slashing his claws through the air. Wolftooth was lashing his tail, his fur fluffed out to look twice his size while he growled ferociously.

We could run, Stoneheart considered, but we would only get ourselves lost... and these cats would just corner us.

He hated not knowing what to do, especially when his Clanmate’s lives hung in the balance. He felt his Clanmates backing up from the fence, and he let his paws follow while his eyes searched desperately for a way out.

“Aw look,” hissed one of the IceClan cats. “They’re running, Stink!”

Stink, the foul-smelling gray tom, chuckled, “Like we’re going to let them!”

StarClan help us, Stoneheart thought. He looked back at the IceClan rogues and saw that they had leaped off of the fence and were prowling forward, advancing as slowly as the ShadowClan cats were retreating. They were fanning out to cut off any avenues of escape, to force the ShadowClan cats to turn their backs – a very unwise decision.

The ginger and white she-cat seemed to decide that there was no need to wait any longer – she lunged forward, lashing out with her dog’s-teeth claws at Pinewhisker. The smaller tabby tom ducked, thankfully, rolling away from her.

“Don’t be afraid of Poppy,” Stink chided, his tail waving mockingly, “she only wants to say hello!”

Pinewhisker curled his lip in response. “She can eat my dung, for all I care!” he spat back.

Poppy bristled, hissing. “Not before you eat mine, you forest rat!” She lunged at Pinewhisker, tail bristling and eyes burning.

Blood roared in Stoneheart’s ears. He leaped across the grass, slamming his body into Poppy’s before she could reach Pinewhisker with those wicked claws. Wolftooth’s battle cry rose in the air while Stoneheart and Poppy rolled through the grass, kicking and clawing at one another.

The rogue was a clumsy fighter, Stoneheart decided, and the dogs-teeth, dangerous as they were, seemed to make it harder for her to make quick movements. Stoneheart ducked, rolling away from one of her blows easily, conscious of the Thunderpath behind him. The easiest way to pick off the ShadowClan cats would be to get them hit by one of the monsters.

He circled around, lashing his claws out at her side. He struck true, causing Poppy to screech in fury. She reared up on her hind legs, threatening to slam her dogs-teeth claws into his head – instead of slipping away, Stoneheart lunged forward, wrapping his forepaws around her hind legs.

Poppy let out a wail of shock as, unbalanced, she toppled, landing on her side in the grass. Quickly, Stoneheart slammed his side down onto her, using his weight to pin her to the earth as he dug his teeth into her hind legs.

He tucked his rear away when he sensed she was about to claw his backside. Poppy struggled and strained, but she was a thin Twolegplace cat and Stoneheart was not only forest-born, but had a stocky, strong ThunderClan body – he was bigger than his ShadowClan-born Clanmates, and heavier too.

“Let me go!” Poppy wailed. “Let me go!”

Don’t, whispered a voice in Stoneheart’s ear, calm and quiet like a leaf-bare snowfall. She hasn’t yet learned her lesson.

Stoneheart bit down harder onto Poppy’s hind leg, tasting blood. The she-cat wailed louder and louder, and only then did Stoneheart let her go. Poppy scrambled to her paws and limped away, tail tucked between her legs and the whites of her eyes showing.

Satisfied, Stoneheart turned to his Clanmates. Wolftooth and Stink were wrestling with one another a few tail-lengths away, while Pinewhisker was doing his best to fend off the other two IceClan cats – a cream-and-ginger she-cat and a pure white tom with long, matted fur and dogs-teeth claws stuck in paws colored pink with blood.

Stoneheart lunged at the white tom, thankful for the surprise advantage. He was able to easily dig his claws into the white rogue’s shoulders, pulling him away from Pinewhisker. With the odds evened, Pinewhisker leaped onto the cream-and-ginger she-cat, the two rolling in the grass in a tangle of claws and tails.

He’s all fur, no force, the cool voice murmured in Stoneheart’s ear again. An easy foe.

The voice was correct – when Stoneheart slammed his body into the white tom, he felt little in the way of muscle beneath the thick layer of white fur. He tackled the IceClan tom to the ground with ease and snapped his jaws around his ear.

His screech was satisfying, as was the feeling of his ear tearing in Stoneheart’s teeth – but before Stoneheart could dig his claws into his foe’s pelt, another sound rose above the clamor of cats fighting – the scream of a Twoleg.

Immediately, with no regard for their own safety, the IceClan cats tore themselves away from the ShadowClan warriors. Stoneheart sat back, letting the white rogue flee as another scream ripped through the air.

“Run!” Pinewhisker yowled. “Twolegs!”

Stoneheart saw them – a pair of males, and a female – coming out of the front door of the den. The female was shrieking, pointing at the cats with her finger, her eyes wide and her pale head-fur bouncing. The two males, one older and one younger, were advancing on the cats, the older dragging a thick green snake along with him by its silver head.

Wolftooth got to his paws, shaking out his fur. He only just realized what was happening when the older Twoleg male squeezed the snake’s head, sending out a jet of water. The stream struck Wolftooth right in the side, making him leap back and hiss.

“Run!” he snapped. “Run!”

“That’s what I was saying!” Pinewhisker screeched back.

Stoneheart got to his paws, scrambling to follow Pinewhisker and Wolftooth. He felt mist on his back as the Twoleg shot another stream of water just over his head. Putting on speed, Stoneheart raced ahead of the Wolftooth and Pinewhisker, his pelt prickling at the idea of getting sprayed.

The three cats ran back the way they’d come, their pelts brushing as their paws tore at the hard stone beneath them – a sidewalk, Purdy had called it. Only when they had passed four dens, sure that the sounds of the yelling Twolegs were far behind them, did they break away from the sidewalk, seeking shelter beneath the heavy leaves of a bush growing against another Twoleg fence.

Stoneheart gasped for air, his heart pounding in his ears. He flopped onto his side, just trying to catch his breath. “Are... we all... okay?” he asked between deep lungfuls of air.

“I’m fine,” Wolftooth growled, slamming down on his haunches, which were streaming with water. He bent to lick his side. “Those rogues were nothing.”

Pinewhisker groaned. “Speak for yourself,” he breathed, hunching beneath a branch. “You weren’t fighting two of them!”

Stoneheart felt his heart steady, and he pushed himself out of the dirt. He leaned over and sniffed Pinewhisker – his Clanmate was thankfully unharmed, but for a few scratches. Thank StarClan, Stoneheart thought. The last thing we need is to get hurt here.

“I hate Twolegs,” Wolftooth hissed.

“What’s IceClan?” Stoneheart wondered, looking to the older tom. “I thought BloodClan was the only Clan in the Twolegplace?”

Wolftooth scoffed, “So did I – when BloodClan broke up, we splintered off into different groups... but only Jaggedtooth called his group BloodClan. This IceClan might be one of those other groups, trying to fill the void BloodClan left behind.”

“More proof that Twolegplace just isn’t for us,” Pinewhisker muttered. He glanced at Stoneheart, and added, “Not that it was really in consideration.”

“Even if it was,” Stoneheart meowed, “I don’t think Russetstar would want to live here with this IceClan running around. Who knows how big their territory is?”

“I’m starving,” Pinewhisker sighed, “and I’m exhausted. What now?”

Stoneheart poked his head out of the bush, taking in their surroundings. It seemed like the IceClan cats hadn’t come after them, and neither had the Twolegs with their water-snake. But the sky was growing darker, and the monsters were starting to cross the Thunderpath more rapidly now. Stoneheart even spotted some Twolegs walking along the sidewalk near them – for now, they were unaware of the cats hunkered down in the bush.

“I don’t think we can stay here,” Stoneheart meowed quietly, pulling himself back inside. “It’s getting busier out there.”

“Agreed,” Wolftooth stated. “Whenever Twolegs caught BloodClan cats having a spat, that area would be swarming with Twolegs and their traps before long. We need to be gone before they get here.”

“But where can we go?” Pinewhisker wondered, eyes round. “Don’t tell me either of you knows the way back to the forest from here, because I sure don’t!”

“I don’t, either,” Wolftooth admitted.

Stoneheart shrugged. “Don’t look at me!”

Wolftooth grimaced. “Well, let’s try to take care of our food problem, first,” he decided, getting to his paws. He shook out his pelt, and then nudged Pinewhisker up. “C’mon.”

Stoneheart poked his head out of the bush again. Once things were quiet, he gave the others a signal with his tail – Wolftooth grunted as he pulled himself up the fence behind them. Pinewhisker went next, and then Stoneheart pulled back and clambered up, sinking his claws into the wood. It took him a moment to find his balance on the thin slats of fence, but he was trotting after Wolftooth and Pinewhisker within a moment, his tail swinging to keep him steady.

They crossed into the backyard of the den they had taken shelter at, and then, seeing as there was no suitable prey there, continued away from what they presumed was IceClan territory. Stoneheart could just barely see trees above the dens, and he guessed that they were heading towards the Thunderpath that cut through the forest – but it seemed like there were dozens of dens between the three cats and anything that might be familiar.

The sun was beginning to sink, the first stars of Silverpelt speckling the sky, when Wolftooth finally seemed to find a suitable place. He leaped down from the fence into a Twoleg garden, full of dying flowers and spikey bushes. Pinewhisker and Stoneheart followed, landing in the soil without a sound.

“What’s here?” Pinewhisker wondered, his voice low.

“Quiet,” Wolftooth hissed.

There was a loud noise, and all three cats darted into the growing shadows. Stoneheart poked his head out just enough to see a Twoleg emerging from the back of their den, dragging a shiny black lump behind them. The Twoleg didn’t seem to notice the cats as they swung the lump into a nearby scrapcan – they shook out their paws before heading back inside.

“Trash?” Pinewhisker assumed, as Wolftooth pulled himself out of the bush. “You want us to eat trash?”

Wolftooth glanced back at the younger warrior and grunted, “Starve, then.”

Stoneheart swallowed, nervous, as Wolftooth approached the scrapcan. He circled it, tail-tip flicking, and then he stretched upward, pushing at the top with his paws. To Stoneheart’s shock, Wolftooth’s claws were able to dislodge the scrapcan’s cover.

“Help me,” Wolftooth hissed. “I can’t push it alone.”

Pinewhisker and Stoneheart scurried out of the bush, bodies low and eyes wary, crossing the plain, grassy yard to Wolftooth’s side. Pinewhisker pressed himself against the den walls, eyes wide and ears twitching as he listened for any movement – Stoneheart, meanwhile, assisted Wolftooth, getting up on his hind paws and pushing with his Clanmate.

The lid moved aside with a scraping sound that made Stoneheart’s heart leap into his mouth. Wolftooth touched his tail to Stoneheart’s flank, signaling for him to stop when the lid was just slightly off of the can. The smells that came out of the scrapcan were so confusing – a sweet mix of crow-food and fresher smells that were far more enticing.

“The stuff at the top is usually good,” Wolftooth meowed. He leaped onto the rim of the scrapcan, balancing easily. “But trust your gut – if it smells bad, don’t eat it.”

He slipped a paw into the can and, after a moment of rummaging, he let out a mrrow of satisfaction. As if he were a RiverClan cat fishing, Wolftooth dragged a lump of meat from the scrap can. Stoneheart was shocked at how good it smelled, his stomach growling.

“Chicken,” Wolftooth called it, leaping down. He immediately began tucking into his catch, tugging at the browned skin and white meat. “There ought to be more.”

“Oh, I want some of that!” Pinewhisker breathed, his eyes shining eagerly. “Our Twolegs would always get mad when we tried to eat their chickens.”

The smaller tabby tom leaped onto the scrapcan, but he lacked the grace and practice of Wolftooth. The can rocked beneath his weight, and it would have fallen onto Stoneheart if he hadn’t slipped away at the last second. The large container instead fell onto the ground with a loud clatter, sending Pinewhisker, and the trash within, sprawling all over the grass.

Wolftooth looked up from his chicken and sighed. “I just can’t take you anywhere, can I?” he complained, glowering at Pinewhisker as if he were still an apprentice.

Before Pinewhisker could retort, the back door of the Twoleg den began to open. The three ShadowClan cats wasted no time – Wolftooth collected his chicken and took off, Pinewhisker and Stoneheart following. As they were clambering up and over the fence, they heard the Twoleg cursing behind them.

Wolftooth led them into the next yard, sighing as he laid his chicken out between the three of them. Stoneheart swallowed – it looked tasty, but certainly wasn’t enough to fill the patrol completely. Still, Wolftooth pushed it towards them.

“It’ll do for now,” he meowed. “Go on.”

Pinewhisker hesitated, only taking a bite when Stoneheart did. The meat was soft and tender, stringy in a way not unlike a forest bird. It did indeed taste very good, but something about it made Stoneheart only want more – perhaps that was just his empty stomach complaining.

Stoneheart sighed. It was fully dark out now, the stars and moon shining in the blackness above. Somehow, in Twolegplace, it seemed harder to see his warrior ancestors. He recalled the lake, how it had cradled Silverpelt in its reflection so perfectly, and he longed to be there instead of here, struggling in this stone jungle full of Twolegs.

I can’t leave without Rowanclaw, he thought. Pleading, he asked, StarClan... help me find him, please! I feel so... Lost...

The yard they were in now seemed quiet, and longer than the one they had just fled. Stoneheart struggled in the dark to see anything about this nest that was otherwise different than the dozen they’d passed already – he had no idea how Twolegs figured their way around, and he longed for the gnarled trees and sure paths of the forest.

“We need to rest,” Wolftooth decided. “Come on, Stoneheart.”

Stoneheart sighed, and he got to his paws. There was another bush, this one big and filled with leaves – Wolftooth pushed his way through, and Pinewhisker and Stoneheart followed, leaving behind the meager bones of their meal.

The branches beneath this bush grew closer to the ground, making the cats crouch low to find any sort of room for themselves. Still, it was warm, especially when the three warriors huddled together. Stoneheart laid his chin on Pinewhisker’s flank, his tail winding around Wolftooth’s nose.

His body ached, and sleep came easily when he closed his eyes.

#tb au #tb dawn

8 notes · View notes

ladyreapermc · 5 years

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Fic: Undisclosed Desires (Henry x Reader)

Summary: AU. After your run-in with Henry at the sex club, you go back home looking for some time to think about how you’re gonna look at him again come Monday morning. Unfortunately, he’s not about to let you have any time to think.

Part 1: Eyes Wide Shut. | Part 3 Beautiful Problems

Author’s Notes: This is a follow-up for Eyes Wide Shut. That fic took a life of its own and apparently it’s turning into a small ‘verse. I will continue to visit this from time to time because there’s so much potential to it and I’m definitely in love. One small note, in the original fic I said the reader was Henry’s PA, but to make sense with my ending for this one, I had to retcon it and change it to a trainee in the magazine he works for. I’m sorry about that. Feedback is always appreciated.

Wordcount: 5470

Warnings: smut (dom!Henry/sub!reader; bondage; orgasm denial; dirty talk)

You slid to the floor the moment you stepped through the front door of your apartment, your dress in disarray, your hair a mess, your make-up smudged, your cellphone ringing insistently inside your purse but you didn’t bother to look. You knew it was him. Of course, it was him.

Leaning your head against the door, you let out a deep, shaky exhale as you tried to get a grip on yourself and assess the situation you were in. Not only, in your lonely state, you decided it would be a good idea to visit a sex club, but you also ended up having sex with a guy you had never seen before. Or at least that was what you thought at first until his mask came off and it turned out it was Henry.

Your boss. The man you’ve been harboring feelings for the last six months. And he had just fucked you like no other guy in your life. You could actually still feel him all over you. The ghost of his hands in your thighs, as well as his lips all over your body and his smell on your skin. It was almost enough to make something inside you respond with desire. A tightness between your legs making itself known despite the mortification you felt.

Trying to clear your head from those thoughts and memories you picked yourself up from the floor and moved to the bathroom letting your dress fall to the floor and looking at yourself in the mirror. Your chest and shoulders were covered in marks from the bites and sucking kisses Henry had pressed there. Same with your inner thighs. There were finger-shaped bruises forming on each side of your hips from where Henry had held you still while he fucked you senseless.

Fortunately, all of those would be out of sight once you put on some clothes and, despite all the attention Henry lavished your neck, it was the one part of your body he hadn’t left marks. How considerate.

You turned on the shower as hot as it would go needing to wash away at least some of the evidence of your night with Henry. Maybe that way you could at least sleep in peace. As you stood under the hot spray, you couldn’t help but think back on all the girlfriends you have seen Henry with ever since you started working with him.

They were all something straight out of a Victoria Secret catalog, with their long legs and perfectly sculpted bodies. Nothing like you. Not that you thought you weren’t attractive. You knew your attributes and knew how to use them, but with regular guys, not God-like men like Henry, who not only had the great looks but the amazing personality to match.

You had always asked yourself why you had never seen him with a woman for more than a month. Now that you knew of his particular tastes in bed – a taste you apparently shared – you couldn’t help but wonder if that was the reason why. If Henry couldn’t bring himself to show this side of him to them. Not like he had shown it to you.

But he didn’t show it to you, did he? He showed to the supposed stranger he picked up in the club. He said it himself: he didn’t know it was you until your mask came off. Just like you didn’t know it was him either. Did you believe him?

You had to, right? Henry had no reason to expect to see you in that club, just like you had no reason to expect him. That was why you didn’t make the connection, even if you felt drawn to him and perfectly safe from the second you two started talking. Maybe on a deep, subconscious level, you had always known. So, he must have known too, right?

In the end, did it really matter? If you did know or not? He was still your boss. How were you planning on working with him after this? Now that you knew how he looks naked. Now that you knew how his mouth tasted and felt against your skin…

The truth was that you could ignore his calls and texts; hide in your apartment all weekend, but come Monday morning, you would have to face him. You were a trainee in the magazine he worked with. The one that brought in coffee and answered calls, helped with research for articles and organized materials...

For all journalists in the magazine, really but since Henry took you under his wing, you had been almost exclusively working with him and there wasn’t a single aspect of your job that wasn’t done in close proximity to him. So how exactly were you going to do this?

You didn’t have an answer. All you knew it that you weren’t going to come up with it tonight so the best you could do was put this entire thing aside, catch some sleep and hope a bolt of inspiration would reach you come morning.

Putting on an old tank top and a pair of shorts after your shower, you climbed under the covers of your bed, hoping that when you closed your eyes, you wouldn’t dream of his. No such luck, unfortunately.

You spent the night dreaming of Henry. Of his touch and his taste and his voice and his smell and woke up soaked and aching, reaching between your legs almost on autopilot while your other hand teased your nipples, your mind still full of Henry and it took you almost no effort to make yourself come.

It wasn’t nearly as fulfilling as the orgasms you had the night before, but it was still a nice way to fully wake up. You were in a relatively good mood when you got out of bed, humming along with the radio as you started on breakfast, your problems with Henry pushed to the corner of your mind for the time being. You would think about it after your cup of coffee and not a moment sooner.

The knock on your door at this time in the morning was a surprise, but you assumed it was just one of your neighbors. Most likely the lady on 14B who kept misplacing her cat. You thought nothing of it as you bounced towards the door, mouthing the words of some pop song as you pulled the door open without checking through the peephole.

You froze at the sight of Henry standing there hand raised to knock again.

Your first impulse was to close the door on his face, pretend he wasn’t there. How was he there? How did he get your address? How did he manage to come up without you buzzing him in?

“Please don’t close the door on me,” Henry asked as if reading your mind. His blue eyes wide and pleading and how could you resist that?

Against your better judgment, you stepped aside and let him in, closing the door behind him. You just watched as he stood awkwardly in your foyer, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as he waited for you to take the first step.

“Did you have breakfast yet?” you asked with a sigh, leading the way to your kitchen and feeling Henry looming behind you. “And I mean real breakfast, not those disgusting protein shakes you drink first thing in the morning.”

“No,” he admitted, taking a seat at your isle while you popped two more slices of bread on the toaster and added a couple more bacon stripes in your frying pan.

For a moment, the only sounds in the kitchen were the sounds of sizzling and the music playing on the radio as you finished your task. You were hardly a good cook, but you could manage decent bacon and eggs at least.

After setting the plates on the counter, you brought over two mugs of coffee. Henry’s with milk and two sugars just like he preferred, yours black, three sugars, before you took a seat next to him, ignoring the way he was sneaking glances at you in favor of your food.

You could not have this conversation on an empty stomach. If it was up to you, you wouldn’t have this conversation at all. Not today at least, but here was Henry not even warranting you the weekend to process this entire mess before having to face him.

The two of you ate in silence and once you were both done Henry wordless picked up the dirty dishes and washed them. No prompt; no request. Because you needed even more reason to fall in love with him. It just wasn’t fair.

“Can we talk now?” he asked, drying his hands on a dishtowel as he turned to face you.

There he was, standing in your kitchen, the morning light coming from the window hitting his face just right, highlighting the sharp lines of his jaw and cheekbones, making the lighter brown shades of his curls more prominent. His blue eyes shining bright and full of uncertainty.

You didn’t really know what possessed you to do this, but you got up and moved into Henry's personal space, grabbing a fistful of his hair and just smashing your lips against his.

His arm came around your waist, pulling you close until you were flush against his strong chest. His other hand coming to your jaw, tilting your face just right so to ease the angle of the kiss and soon enough his tongue was slipping past your lips, sliding against yours as Henry pinned you against the counter.

And how did he do that? How did he take charge so effortlessly when you were the one who initiated? How could he look so unsure only seconds ago and now he was kissing and touching you like he had a map to your body?

“You’re sure?” Henry asked against your lips, thumb rubbing your cheek so softly you felt yourself melting and warmth spreading through your chest.

“Yes, boss,” you declared, your hand coming to cup the bulge in his pants, making Henry groan. Because the last thing you wanted to do was talk. Talking would lead to thinking and thinking to regret and end this. You didn’t want this to end. Not yet.

“Ok,” he whispered, his eyes darkening as much as his tone.

Henry caught your lips again in a bruising kiss. His teeth tugged gently on your lower lip, making you moan and squeeze him firmly through his jeans.

“On your knees. Hands behind your back.”

You obeyed easily, your movements surprisingly fluid as you sat on your heels, your wrists resting on the curve of your ass. You watched him through your lashes as Henry unbuckled his belt and unfastened his jeans, pushing them down his legs only far enough to free his semi-hard cock. Resting a hand on top of your head, he stroked himself and you could only watch, desire shooting through you.

“Have you ever done this?” He asked, voice raspy and hoarse.

“Suck a dick?” You asked in confusion. Did he think you were some sort of blushing virgin?

“Have your mouth fucked,” Henry clarified, his thumb tracing your lips. “Having a cock so deep inside your mouth it hits your throat and you can barely breathe, only choke on it.” His words were slow and deliberate, his tone seductive, painting the picture for you and making heat spread through your body. “So far down you’re gagging, tears in your eyes as you moan for more…”

You were so wet from just his words. The temptation of moving forward, just taking him in your mouth growing at each passing second that you watched him touch himself.

“Please, boss,” you whined, blinking up at him. “I want it.”

“Remember your safe word?” Henry asked and you nodded. “Gesture too?” Once again you nodded. “Good. Then come here, baby.”

He tugged gently on your hair until you crawled closer. Enough to smell the heady scent of his sex. Holding himself, he pressed the tip of his cock against the seam of your lips, letting you taste him first. You hummed as precum smeared over your lips and you licked them clean before you parted them in welcome.

Loosening your jaw and covering your teeth, you let Henry push deeper, getting more of his erection inside your mouth. He was quite big and thick, and you could feel his cock heavy in your tongue, the head rubbing against the roof of your mouth until he pulled back again.

Henry started slow, giving you time to adjust, but at each thrust he pushed deeper and deeper, holding it there for longer until you were moaning, hands clenching behind your back until he pulled back and you could properly draw breath again, your head dizzy, your panties drenched, your body desperate for more.

Soon he was hitting the back of your throat with every stroke, making you gag and gasp for breath, drool running down your chin and the aching need between your legs turning unbearable. Especially with the way Henry grunted and panted above you, head thrown back in ecstasy as he fucked your mouth.

You just needed to alleviate a bit of the pressure building inside you. That was all. Sneaking your hands between your legs, you rubbed your clit, groaning around your mouthful at the first thrill of pleasure.

It didn’t last long. Your attention brought back when Henry pulled his cock completely out of your mouth, using his hold on your hair to tilt your head up so you could look at him. You whimpered, not in pain but in need.

“What are you doing, baby?” he asked, eyebrow arched, and you blinked at him in confusion. He nodded towards you and you glanced down at yourself, at the way your hand was tucked inside your shorts. “Who allowed you to touch yourself?”

“Sorry, boss.”

Henry tsked in disappointment and helped you to get on your feet again, your back to his chest as he nuzzled your cheek and temple, one hand holding your wrists behind your back, the other running over your cunt. You were shaking, wanting nothing more than for him to touch and finger you. Instead, he slapped your sex gently, making you buckle and moan. Your clit throbbing even more as your head lolled back against his chest.

“You’re showing terrible behavior, baby,” Henry whispered against your ear. “Running out on me last night; ignoring my calls; touching yourself without permission… I think you need some punishment.” His words sent another thrill through your body. “Don’t you agree?”

You knew what he was doing. Asking for your permission. Making sure this was still ok. That he wasn’t crossing the line. Part of you was excited to see what Henry would do to you, but a little voice kept telling you that this was a bad idea. You needed to end things, not get even deeper into the rabbit hole.

“Yes, boss,” you said, at last, feeling his smile against your temple as he let go of your hands.

“Show me your bedroom. Eyes forward.”

With a nod, you led the way, walking in front of him and resisting the urge to look behind yourself. You almost gave in when you heard the noise of leather against fabric as well as the clink of metal against metal. You just knew he was taking off his belt.

You stepped inside your bedroom, walking all the way to the foot of the bed before stopping, turning your head just enough so Henry could see you were awaiting further instructions, but without glancing behind yourself.

He stepped closer to you, his warmth seeping through your thin sleeping clothes as he pulled one of your arms behind your back, then the other. Leather slip past your hands, surrounding your wrists, loosely at first, then after a quick tug, it tightened.

“How’s that?” he asked. “Too tight?”

“No, boss,” you replied, moving your wrists against the makeshift belt handcuffs he made. There was enough space between your flesh and the leather, but no way for you to get out unless he released you. You drew a shaky breath in anticipation.

“On your knees, face and shoulders on the bed,” he instructed, and you struggled to obey, the position awkward and leaving your exposed and vulnerable, especially with your hands tied behind your back and your ass up in the air.

Your breath picked up speed and your heart was thundering as you waited for what Henry would do next. You jumped when he ran his rough palms over your thighs, spreading your knees a little wider before he kneaded your ass and kissed your spine.

“Relax baby,” he asked, rubbing your lower back soothingly. “This is gonna be good. I promise.”

You tried to even your breathing while Henry pressed soft, wet kisses all over your back, his fingers teasing you through your shorts until you were rocking back against his fingers, asking for more, completely forgetting the position you were in.

“That’s better,” he whispered and finally pulled your shorts down. “You’re soaked already. My naughty girl.”

Henry pressed a kiss to your wet folds, before running his tongue over them, exploring you. You moaned and fought the urge to writhe as he pushed his tongue inside, fingers toying with your clit. He was good. So damn good. Every touch, every kiss perfectly planned to get maximum response from your body and in moments Henry had you meowing pleas, your body quaking and pleasure coiled in your lower belly ready to snap.

You were so damn close you could taste it and that was when he pulled back, nipping at your ass cheek and making you jump. Your mind so dizzy it took you a couple of seconds to process what was happening.

“This is a punishment, baby. Not a reward,” Henry announced, his voice smug as he caressed your shaky thighs. “You come when I feel you deserve it.”

Henry kissed your cunt again, before his fingers brushed against your slit, spreading your wetness, reigniting your pleasure. All you could focus on was the delicious heat starting in your core and spreading through your body as he thrust two fingers in and out. Slowly at first, then speeding up as you pushed back against his hand, fucking yourself on his fingers.

Once again you felt the crest of your orgasm building and growing like a wave, making your entire body tense. Your toes curled, your fist clenched, your eyes were squeezed shut, your nipples hard and at every brush against the shirt, tiny sparkles of pleasure flowed through you. You were almost there once again. Once again Henry stopped.

“FUCK!” You shouted in frustration and you wanted to slap him because the son of a bitch actually chuckled, his hands soothing your back. “I hate you.”

“Of course, you do,” he kissed up your spine again, his hands coming around your belly and under your shirt, caressing your ribs before kneading your breasts and pinching your nipples and you groaned and buckled against him desperate for more.

“You’re a fucking bastard, you know that?” you spat angry and frustrated as he bit your shoulder.

“Be glad I don’t put you over my knee and spank this ass red,” he growled, one hand coming down to squeeze your ass cheeks roughly. “You’re being a brat and that’s what brats deserve.”

You couldn’t help yourself. Despite the frustration, you moaned at the thought. Maybe you weren’t all that opposed to spanking. At least not with Henry.

“You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?” he spoke against your ear, voice teasing, fingers pushing into you again. “Me spanking you.”

“Yes, boss,” you admitted, exhaling shakily.

You could almost picture it. His large hand descending over your ass. The sound of skin against skin loud in the quiet room, being cut only by your cries and the counting. You bet Henry would only stop when your cheeks were red, warm and, tender from the abuse.

One more time you were rocking against his fingers, fucking yourself. The mental image your brain just conjured making you so aroused you were drenched. You could hear the squelching sound of Henry knuckles hitting your swollen cunt, your clit throbbing painfully.

“Boss, please,” you sobbed, tears in your eyes. You wanted to come so bad it was starting to hurt.

“Apologize,” Henry growled.

“Sorry. I’m sorry, boss,” you babbled desperately, your orgasm building again.

“For what? What are you apologizing for?”

“For touching myself without permission.”

“And?” he prompted, his voice sounding a little more distant, his pace losing a little coordination.

“Cursing you,” you replied, mind foggy.

“And?” Henry asked again, voice slightly muffled and you had to force yourself to think. What else were you being punished for? You heard a foil being ripped before he spoke again. “Baby? Say it.”

“For running away.” Your voice broke slightly at the thought. “For not answering your calls. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Henry.”

A silence fell over the two of you. You had been so embarrassed and terrified last night… but maybe if you had stayed, maybe if the two of you had talked, it would have been for the better. Maybe there could be a way for the two of you to make things work.

“Good girl,” Henry whispered, kissing your neck and shoulders. His body draped over yours. “My good girl.” He pulled his fingers away again and you whimpered. “Mine.”

You barely had time to process that as Henry pushed his cock inside you, making you shout because this was what you wanted. What you needed even. Him filling you up, stretching you so perfectly your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he waited for your to adjust. His hands come to your shoulders to pull you back until you sitting upright on his lap. You sighed in relief at the removal of pressure on your shoulders and neck.

“Ok?” he panted against your shoulder, pushing your hair to the side and you nodded, the feeling of him so deep inside you making you speechless.

Henry once again started slow, you noticed. His hips barely pulling back before he pushed in again. Granted, this position didn’t give him much room to maneuver, but it felt so good, his hands exploring your body, his mouth kissing and biting the exposed skin of your neck and shoulder as he rocked his hips.

Soon, his pace increased his body moving harder and faster against yours, encouraged by the cries, curses, and pleas falling from your lips. His grip on your body tightening and holding you still, thumb working your tender clit.

There it was again, the heat building inside you, starting in your lower belly, coiling your muscles, becoming the only thing you could focus on.

“Can I come, please, Boss?” The words slipped from your lips without you even noticing them and you felt Henry nodding.

“Yeah, baby. Now you can come,” he conceded, his kisses gentle, almost coaxing as the wave of your pleasure finally crashed through you.

Your back arched like a bow. Your thighs quaking, your hands, still restrained behind your back, fisting Henry’s shirt. Bright dots busting behind your eyelids as you could barely draw a breath. Your walls pulsing around Henry’s cock, gripping him tight and he cursed against your shoulder, moaning your name as he came too.

Resting against Henry’s strong chest, you caught your breath, fighting off the daze of sleep. You were never like this. Sleepy after sex, but he worked you out so well. Your body was exhausted, your mind quiet for the first time in the last 12 hours and you just wanted to enjoy it.

“Henry?” you mumbled, eyelids heavy, tilting your head back to catch a glimpse of him. “Stay?”

“For as long as you want me to,” he said, kissing your lips softly. “Sleep. I’ll take care of everything, baby.”

“Hmmm. ‘kay,” you whispered, already drifting off.

It had been a while since you woke up sated and pleasantly sore, surrounded by warmth, a strong arm holding you close, a hard chest pillowing your head, rough fingers drawing patterns on your back under your shirt and making you shiver.

You forgot how much you missed it. How long has it been since your last relationship? Too long. Not that you should be thinking of this a relationship. Henry was still your boss and you had no idea where the two of you stood. Being compatible in sex didn’t make you compatible with everything else.

With a sigh, you shifted in Henry’s embrace and he loosened his hold enough for you to raise your head and look at him. He was propped on the headboard, in his jeans, glasses perched on his nose, reading something on his phone. He looked over at you, a smile pulling on his lips and your heart sped up.

“Hi.”

“Hey,” he replied, pressing a kiss on your forehead and you froze, unsure of what to do. “Anything hurt?”

“Yes,” you admitted, sitting up. “But not in a bad way. What are you doing?”

“Reading that report on fracking you’ve been nagging me about since last week.”

Henry flashed you a smirk that you almost returned, but the entire thing felt too weird for you to just slip back into the easy camaraderie you two shared when working together. Apparently, he noticed, because, with a sigh, Henry set his phone and glasses on the bedside table. Like they belonged there. Like he belonged in your bed.

“We should talk,” he said and once again your heart sped up, but this time for a completely different reason. Anxiety. Fear. Panic.

You couldn’t help yourself. You got out of bed, catching sight of your shorts on top of the dresser and pulling them back on. Which was ridiculous because Henry had seen you naked last night and he had done very dirty things to you today, so what was the point?

“Can you sit down, please?” he asked, patting the bed. You exhaled slowly in a weak attempt of centering yourself as you took a seat. “And maybe look at me.”

You raised your head, meeting Henry’s gaze, seeing the same uncertainty in his gaze as you had seen earlier. It was a small comfort to know that he shared your nervousness.

“Did you know?” you asked in a low voice. “Last night? That it was me?”

“Not until I took off your mask,” he said, his tone pleading you to believe him. “That was the last place I expected to find you.” You snorted because that was an understatement. “But I’m glad I did.”

“You are?” Surprise colored your voice as you looked at Henry in confusion. He paused, eyes searching and all you could do was stare back. This time, Henry was the one who snorted.

“You didn’t know,” he whispered seemingly more to himself than you. “Amy was right, then. As usual.”

“Henry, you’re not making any sense,” you said. What was he on about? And what did the other journalist had to do with it?

“I have feelings for you,” he declared, his tone almost matter-of-factly. “Which is quite inappropriate since I’m your boss.”

To hear that word in his voice, in that low baritone, made a thrill of want run down your spine. You bit your lip to prevent a small groan from escaping your mouth and noticed the way Henry shifted on his seat, looking away from you as he cleared his throat.

You were very familiar with that gesture. He did often when you said or did something to make him uncomfortable. Your gaze dropped to his lap, at the way his cock twitched against his jeans. Not uncomfortable. Aroused.

“Oh,” you said dumbly, several interactions between the two of you replaying on your mind with a whole different meaning.

The way he would fidget whenever you fixed his blazer or the collar of his dress shirt. The sharp intakes of breath when you bent over his shoulder to fix a simple thing on his computer that he always seemed to struggle with. How he always kept his eyes fixed on yours whenever you wore a lowcut blouse… How had you not noticed any of that before? Geez! You were dense.

“Why did you say something?” you asked.

“One: I didn’t know you felt the same,” Henry pointed out. “And two: I didn’t want to ruin things between us. There is a reason why my relationships never last.”

“You mean…” you trailed off, gesturing at the bed and he chuckled and shook his head.

“Because I’m a workaholic,” he corrected. “I don’t share my sexual preferences with just anyone.”

“You mean you don’t usually tie people up in your first date?” you joked, and he chuckled again, shaking his head. “But you did with me. Even if you didn’t know who I was.”

“Because I knew you wanted it. That you trusted me to stop if you asked,” Henry said, twisting the bedsheet under his hand. “Maybe I did know, at some level, that it was you. There’s no one I trust more, and it felt different.”

You knew what he meant because you felt the same. In a room full of strangers, he was the only one that made you feel at ease and you didn’t hesitate to follow him into the bedroom and put yourself in his capable hands.

“It’s different when you do this with someone you really care about…” Henry mused, looking at you. “It’s always pleasurable, but when it’s someone you like, it just…”

“Mind-blowing?” you offered with a small, hesitant smile. You might not be experienced in these things, but it definitely didn’t feel like anything you felt before.

“Yeah,” Henry nodded. “Enough that you don’t want to give up all that easily.”

There was an underlying sadness in his voice. A type of resignation. He was certain you two wouldn’t be doing this again. A small bolt of panic hit you. You didn’t want that to happen. Not now that you knew what it felt like to be with him. Not when you now knew it could be more.

Now that you knew that the smile he flashed you every morning when you brought his coffee was more than just gratitude. Or the spark that seemed to ran through you whenever you two touched might ran through him too. Maybe there really was a different warmth in his voice whenever he spoke to you, no matter how frustrated he was. Maybe he really meant it when he said you were his favorite person in the world…

“Do we have to give it up?” you asked, and Henry gave you a sad smile.

“I’m your boss. It’s against the magazine’s code of conduct.”

Your mind worked a mile a minute while you thought about this. You knew he was technically right, but maybe… An idea hit you. Insane, but might just work.

“And if I was your colleague, not a trainee?”

“Sure, but…” Henry started saying, but you were already on your feet again, a plan starting to form on your head.

“Ok, you didn’t hear this from me, but Lawrence is thinking about retiring,” you confided, making his eyes go wide, mouth hanging open. “I have lunch with his secretary at least once a week. She tells me everything,” you explained before Henry can even think about asking. “If he goes, the editor position for the magazine will be open and everyone knows it would be between you and Amy.”

“And Amy is his favorite…” Henry nodded, his lips tilting into a grin as he caught on with your line of thought. “With Amy in the editor chair, the magazine will need someone to fill in her shoes.”

“Exactly!” You grinned, crawling back in bed and towards him. “We just need to make sure that’s me.”

“Are you actually suggesting we date in secret for the next…”

“Six months. Maybe eight,” you offered at his pause.

“Six, maybe eight months in the hopes Lawrence retires, Amy gets the editor’s chair and you get a promotion, knowing that if anyone finds out we’ll both be out of a job?”

“Yes.” You nodded, excitement coursing through you as you came to sit in his lap, arms around his shoulders. “That’s exactly what I’m suggesting. Are you in?”

“What the hell!?” Henry shrugged, grinning too. “Secrets are kind of hot.” He declared, meeting your lips for a kiss.

This might just work after all. And maybe, in the end, you would not only get the guy of your dreams but the job too.

xxx

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spencers-dria · 4 years

Text

Slaying Dragons

Someone To Stay Ch. 18

Spencer x fem reader

I start to gather my things as I finish up the last bit of paperwork piled on the corner of my desk. With a wave and a quick round of goodbyes, I make my way to the elevator.

Thirty minutes later I am standing outside of Y/N's door. I know we are dating now, but she still makes me nervous. I figured I would surprise her by stopping by after work.

After three swift knocks I hear a muffled reply. "It's open."

I step in to see Y/N curled up on the couch in a blanket, her eyes are bloodshot and her face is red and tear-stained. I quickly drop my bag and rush to kneel in front of her.

I reach up to move her hair out of her face as she looks up, her eyes finally meeting mine. "What's wrong? What happened? Are you okay?"

I feel a slight panic as my mind runs through every possible scenario. She just manages to motion towards the television screen in front of her. I turn glance over my shoulder to see one of her favorite medical dramas is playing.

"Y/N, it's okay. It's just a show remember? It will be alright."

I rub my hand across her knee in an attempt to sooth her. I am settled by the fact that nothing is seriously wrong, but I know she still needs comfort.

She shakes her head and looks at me again. I have seen her cry during some of our movie nights. This is different. I can see it in her eyes. She's truly hurting. I move up onto the couch, sitting next to her and completely enveloping her in my embrace, leaving a kiss on top of her head.

I whisper softly "What's wrong sweet girl?"

"It's not just a show. Their patient who was dying, they couldn't do anything to stop it. Sometimes neither can we...Sometimes I feel so helpless. I watch family members breakdown. I see patients who don't even understand what's happening to them. There is so much hurt and pain and death."

I feel my heart sink in my chest. I am all too familiar with the feeling. She knows all too well the feeling of what I go through at work. I'm not sure if I ever stopped to consider that before. We both see death and loss. Neither of us have complete control, both of us do out best to save lives, to make a difference. Sometimes there's nothing we can do. Knowing all this to be true, I know there is nothing I can say to convince her she is wrong, because she isn't. So instead I continue to comfort her the best I can.

I rub her back as I rock her back and forth, in attempt to slow her breathing and calm her down. After awhile of being held, she takes a deep breath before leaning back to wipe her eyes.

"Thank you, so much Spencer. I don't deserve you. I'm sorry you had to see me like this. It's just been a rough week at work."

I reach out to hold her face, bringing her gaze back to me.

"Don't ever apologize for your feelings. You've already helped me through several breakdowns. And with my job I can guarantee there will plenty more. We may never be able to completely take away the pain of others, but we have to appreciate the people that we can help and the things we can do to make a difference. I know how much you care about your patients. They are so lucky to have you caring for them."

As I try to comfort her with my words I wipe away the last few tears. I'm rewarded with her warm smile shining back at me.

"What do you say tonight we watch a movie, your choice, and then tomorrow we can go shop for those Halloween costumes you talked about?"

Her eyes lit up as she quickly nodded. We spend the rest of the evening cuddled up on the couch watching our way through several cheesy Halloween movies.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I return the next morning, sending a quick text to let her know I am on my way. Before I can get out of the car to head to her apartment, she's bolting down the stairs, ready to go. She plops down in the passenger seat, a huge grin spread across her face.

"Someone's excited for today?" I chuckle at her enthusiasm.

I look over to the passenger seat to see her in an oversized Halloween sweatshirt and denim shorts. She has mismatched socks on under her converse. One is purple with dogs in costumes, the other grey with black cats and pumpkins. Her hair is hung in loose messy waves, my favorite.

She leans over to kiss my cheek before answering. "Considering you and Halloween are my two favorite things, can you really be surprised?"

I feel my face warming at the compliment. I'm not used to such open comments about her affection towards me, and I don't think I will ever grow tired of it.

I reach her phone and plug it in as she gives me a questioning look. It only takes 2 second of the song before she recognizes it. She gives me shoulder a playful shove.

"You actually went and listened to them?"

"Yeah of course! I like learning more about what you like. This song was my favorite of their's, by the way."

She brings her hand over her heart and wipes away an imaginary tear with the other. "I'm so proud."

I shake my head letting out a small laugh before shifting the car into drive. For a few moments I almost forget how completely tone deaf I am, singing along with the lyrics.

When you were younnnggg

I quickly remember how awful I sound when I try to sing, glancing over to Y/N to see if she happened to hear me over the music. She's staring at me, but she's not laughing. She is looking at me as though I'm her favorite person in the entire world. Filled with a confidence I have rarely ever felt, I continue singing as she joins in and we belt it at the top of our lungs.

We pull up to the thrift store make our way to the formal section to look for what we need. During our movie selections we had finally settled on which of her ideas would be best. I finally found some pinstriped suit pants and a suit jacket a bit older fashioned than anything I already owned.

I glance up to see Y/N coming out of the dressing room in a beautiful wedding gown. From her waves falling onto her bare shoulders, to the way the corset top fit her, and the lace that trailed down the dress, she was beautiful. She does a quick twirl, allowing the skirt to flow around her like waves.

"You like it?"

All I can manage was a nervous nod. Can she see the effect it has on me? How nervous she makes me? I sure hope not.

"Look at us, wedding dress shopping and you haven't even gotten down on one knee." She jabs me in the side as she laughs.

Surprisingly this makes me relax a bit, although I'm not sure if it's the joke or the musical sound of her laughter.

After we stop at a couple more stores to pick up more items for our costumes along with makeup and temporary hair color, we make our way to her apartment. She was used to doing crafty things, so she has plenty of supplies ready to go. We took out the dress and I help her to effectively ruin it in just the way we needed. I have to admit, it was a bit fun to mess something up for once. Keeping things so put together all the time can be...exhausting.

The evening couldn't last long enough as eventually we say our goodbyes and I headed home. As I lie in bed and try to fall asleep, snap shots of the day play through my mind. Every day with her feels like a fairy tale romance. I usually fall asleep after hours of insomnia just from exhaustion alone, but tonight I drift off into a deep sleep, full of happy, warm feelings.

We had agreed to spend all of Halloween together. We planned to get ready at her apartment, which has the perfect spooky atmosphere. I love that she decorates so much. It makes me feel so at home in her apartment. After lunch, we start on our costumes, hers requiring several hours to come together. I wait, reading on her couch, until she's done with her shower. Eventually she comes out and asks for help. We cover as much of her face, neck, and arms as we can in a dusty blue color. She begins spraying blue throughout her hair, requiring my assistance in reaching some parts in the back. I try to tell her I don't know what I'm doing, but she insists it doesn't matter as long as it's all blue.

I decide to sit on the side of the tub and watch her finish her makeup. It's fascinating to me. I don't know how she transforms her face so easily. She helps me with mine as well as I sit on a stool in front of the mirror, adding some makeup to make my eyes look sunken and my cheekbones even more prominent. She finishes off with some gel in my hair, using a come to slick it back in the right directions.

"You know I used to gel my hair back for work?"

She looks up to make eye contact in the mirror, still fixing my hair. "Oh really? I always wonder what you used to look like. You don't have any photos with you in them, just your friends and family."

I clear my throat before answering. I'm not quite ready to speak on this topic.

"Yeah I don't...I mean I never really...you know people just always said I look..."

Before I can bring myself to finish, she walks around to face me, lifting my face to look at her.

"I wish you could see yourself the way I see you."

"You are..." she bends down, kissing my right cheek,

"the most handsome..." again on my left cheek,

"man I know" and finally on my lips. The last one lingering for a moment more before she pulls back. I can see in her eyes that she means every word. I don't doubt it for a moment.

"What did I ever do to deserve you?" I whisper, feeling as though all the air has left my lungs.

She returns to her spot behind me, wrapper her arms around me before placing one last kiss on my cheek. "I might ask you the same question." This time she leaves me blushing.

Once we have made our way into our costumes, we grab a skeleton costume Y/N found for her dog Juneau. It just so happens to work perfectly with out couple's costume. We make our way to her car and she drives us to JJ's house. We had made plan's to take Henry trick-or-treating so that Will and JJ could attend Will's work party.

After a few knocks, the door opens and JJ greets us in a costume I don't recognize.

"Victor and the Corpse Bride! I love it! You guys look amazing. You even have Scraps!" She leans down to pet Juneau.

Y/N does a quick twirl, showing off all of her costume. The lace has been ripped and distressed in all the right places. I have to hand it to her, it looks exactly like the one one in the movie.

"JJ, why are you holding a frying pan?" I ask.

Y/N and JJ share knowing looks before busting into a fit of giggles.

"I'm Rapunzel, and Will is going as Flynn."

"If you're referring to the fairy tale by the Grimm Brothers, I don't recall there being any mention of cookware. And who is Flynn?"

"From the Disney movie Mr. smarty pants." JJ quips.

We all take a moment to laugh before interrupted by Will chasing Henry, trying to get him in the rest of his costume. He eventually makes his way to the door with Henry donned in a orange and green dinosaur costume.

"Woooaahhh, what a scary dinosaur!"

He lets out a loud giggle, my favorite sound in the world.

"It's me Uncle Spence! It's Henry!"

"Oh my gosh! Henry, you look amazing!" I sweep him up off the ground to bring him in for a hug.

I don't keep his attention for long as he squeals "Puppy!" wriggling to get down and pet Juneau.

He pulls the two of us inside to show us each of his toys while his parents finish getting ready. After everything is set, the four of us set off to make our way around the neighborhood. After we finish, we fix his car seat in Y/N's vehicle before taking Henry to a surprise we had planned.

We pull up to Rossi's house, which he immediately recognizes. After quick greetings with Rossi, we start to make our way around the new neighborhood. Henry's eyes wide with amazement at the large candy bars given to him at every door.

It doesn't take long before Henry wears out, but he is insistent that we all continue.

"Come here little dinosaur" Y/N coos before sweeping him up in her arms. She talks to him about his school, his friends, and whatever else pops into his fast paced toddler mind.

I can't help but admire how great she is with him. I have heard her mention how much she wants to work with children before, but this was my first time witnessing it. It really does to come natural to her, and she seems so happy. She catches me staring a few times and shoots me a sweet smile before returning her attention to Henry, who has not stopped to take a breath for at least five minutes.

Once we get the message that Will and JJ have returned home, we bring Henry back and work to get him from the car seat to his parent's arms without waking him. He passed out about halfway home. We share quick hugs and goodbyes before driving back to Y/N's apartment. I walk back up with her, waiting for her to get Juneau settled.

"If it's not too late, I have a surprise planned."

She bounces on her feet, already eager with anticipation. "Oooo what is it? What is it?"

I pull out a couple tickets for a haunted house and she squeals before embracing me in a hug.

"Yes! Thank you! I love haunted houses! I can't wait!"

I can't help but smile and laugh a bit at her excitement. She has a child-like wonder at times, in the best of ways.

She does some quick touch ups to her costume and we make our way downstairs, where I offer to drive us. We eventually find ourselves driving down a long dirt road, surrounded by woods and darkness. It certainly sets the tone.

Once we have parked and made our way through the line, I feel her wrap her arm around mine, pulling me close.

"I thought you loved haunted houses?" I tease.

"I do! That doesn't make them any less scary!"

I chuckle before removing her arm from mine so that I can wrap my arm around her shoulders, pulling her as close to me as possible.

"Don't worry sweet girl, I'll protect you." I lean down to give her a reassuring squeeze and a kiss on top of her head.

This seems to calm her a bit as she smiles, snuggling in to my side as we creep down a long dark hallway.

With the things I have seen and done as an FBI agent and member of the BAU, I don't scare too easily. One thing that does scare me, however, is the dark. And right now we are completely enveloped by it, with no flashlights, no guns, and a certainty that things will be jumping out at us. I get by on reminding myself that nothing here will actually hurt us. Unlike so many of the cases I have been on, I know I will walk out of here in one piece.

I find myself less scared and more focused on making sure Y/N feels safe, rubbing her arm and talking to her after I feel her wince with each jump scare. After awhile, she surprises me by choosing to take the lead. She leaves me side but reaches back to hold my hand. Before I know it, she's making witty remarks back to the characters who try to scare her or follow us for awhile. She doesn't even jump when a girl springs out from the darkness, letting out a blood-curdling scream. Y/N decides to combat this by walking straight up to her and letting out a scream of equal proportions. She turns back to face me and we both end up in a fit of giggles at how ridiculous it was. She never ceases to amaze me.

We eventually make it out the end, and I can feel her heart racing. Now illuminated by the moonlight, I can see the huge grin on her face.

"So you're okay huh?"

Still grinning she answers, "That was perfect! I loved it! Thank you, Spencer. You're my real life knight in shining armor."

I feel silly blushing at such a cheesy comment, but I can't help myself. I know in that moment that I would slay dragons for her.

A/N: sorry this took so long to get out! I hope you still enjoyed it. Comments and questions welcome as always. Thanks for reading!

🖤💀🎃 FairyTales1896

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yourdeepestfathoms · 4 years

Text

teeth

(Read Anne as Courtney!Anne)

Aragon and Anne make the best mother duo and you Cannot Change My Mind

(you can read this as Aralyn if you want, but it’s not written in that way and the line is pretty vague tbh)

Word count: 4769

———————

There was a crash.

And then a crack.

And then a crunch.

The girl at the bottom of the stairs had her bottom jaw bent in a horrible position, her tongue lolling out of one side and bloody drool spilled all down her chin. Her eyes are upturned in her skull; she didn’t seem to be all there, though no one was surprised. Those broken bones must be excruciating.

———

Eight weeks of silence. A jaw wired shut. Almost three months of only eating liquidated foods. Black and blue floral bruising bloomed across the sides of her face. An eternity of humiliation.

———

In theory, it was difficult to miss Joan. Nineteen years of age and the workaholic music director stood at roughly 5’4, and it didn’t look like she was going to be growing again anytime soon. However, in practice, the girl was so quiet and self-enclosed that a lot of the time, she practically melted into the theater walls. That made it a slightly unpleasant surprise when Aragon was disturbed from her reading by a quiet tapping at her doorframe—it was most undignified for a queen as regal as herself to startle like that.

An irritable comment jumped to her lips, but it died as she looked up. Joan looked...worried. That wouldn’t normally strike her in any meaningful way, not if it was anyone else at her door—everyone got worried sometimes, although a fair number of people found it more difficult to talk to her than to others. But for all that had happened in her past, Joan had maintained a rarely-changing expression of passivity throughout the time she’d been reincarnated. Perhaps as a defense mechanism, perhaps simply because that was her resting face; the girl just kept her emotions to herself. However, now, it was incredibly visible that she was experiencing the worst kind of gnawing fear if you knew how to look for it. Nails digging into her arms as she crossed them over her chest, eyes darting all over, and her heel pressing against her other shin like she was trying to keep from anxious tapping. The only reason her lip wasn’t chewed raw was because of the wires and rubber bands anchoring her mouth firmly shut.

Immediately, the irritation turned to alarm bells.

The two just looked at each other for a few minutes, neither seemingly willing to break the silence first. Then, slowly, Joan took one step into the dressing room. Now her fingers were digging into her arm more. Aragon felt the strongest urge to get up from her chair and check to make sure she hadn’t broken skin, but at the same time, she feared that if she tried to move too quickly she would spook this very obviously troubled girl back into her usual repression. It would be wiser to wait for her to say whatever it was she was struggling to get out, but that didn’t make the decision any easier as a thousand and one possibilities as to what could have gone wrong raced through her head.

“May I talk to you, Aragon?”

The hesitation in the girl’s sign language only made those alarm bells ringing in her head louder. It was only her many, many years as a queen that allowed Aragon to keep her voice calm.

“Of course, Joan. Come, sit.”

Slowly, painfully so, Joan made her way to the chair opposite her, after closing the door to the dressing room behind her. But she didn’t sit down. Rather, she stood next to it. Ordinarily Aragon might have taken that as one of those little acts of rebellion Kitty liked to partake in from time to time, but not in this case. It felt more like the unwillingness of a confronted animal to lay down, for fear that they might need to flee at a moment's notice. That bad, then. Carefully, the queen put her bookmark in between the pages she was on and then set the book to the side. Whatever this was about, she doubted it would be over quickly.

“Now then, what is it you want to discuss?”

“Well… The director talked to me. He said I should take some time off to heal.” Joan signed.

“That’s good,” Aragon said. However, she noticed the frown set on Joan’s lips and realized that it was most definitely not a good thing.

“Maybe.” Joan let her hands go limp for a movement, then raised them again to continue. “But that got me thinking. Maybe, even after I heal, I should just leave the wires in. Seems like everyone would be happier without me talking.”

“Joan, you can’t seriously be thinking of doing that?”

Through great force of will Aragon managed to keep her tone mostly level, but even the very slight undertone of ice and steel buried under a dozen layers of constraint made Joan flinch.

“I-I just....”

“I don’t see why you think that’s a good idea. Do you know how damaging that could be for your mouth? It can’t remain shut forever.”

“Aragon-”

“Not to mention that you could put so many other factors at risk-”

“Aragon, please!”

Well that cut her off sharply.

For a moment Aragon just blinked at the girl, startled. This was perhaps the first time she had heard Joan raise her voice at anybody, let alone a queen. It was especially shocking because it had come out more as a strangled hiss between firmly clamped teeth, like the freezing whisper of a fanged glacier. But as she got over that element of surprise, she noticed two things about the girl standing before her. Firstly, it was that she was shaking, quite badly, actually. And secondly, that the bruises along her cheeks were ignited in shades of ivory and indigo and violet from the way she had been clenching her jaws through their bindings.

Moving oh-so-carefully, Aragon up her purse and began to rifle through it. Joan stepped back, but what she brought out wasn’t some form of weapon, but rather a small tin box. A box which Aragon opened and turned towards her.

“Have a mint, Joan.”

Joan just looked at her, baffled.

Aragon quickly realized her mistake and grimaced. It gets the smallest, weakest smile from Joan. She takes one, despite knowing she couldn’t eat it, signed a rapid apology, then left.

———

Trudging into the coffee shop during a fire-breathing rainstorm made Joan miserable enough, but it only got worse when the shrewd older woman working the counter wouldn’t take her order when she attempted to sign it to her and then write it out.

“I’m sorry, but you’re going to need to use your words.” She oozed.

Joan gestured for her bruised mouth and then bared her teeth so she could show the woman that they were firmly clamped shut with rubber bands. The worker leaned back slightly in distaste.

“Well, I don’t know what to tell you,” She said. “Mutes aren’t our top priority here. You can just wait your turn while I handle the other customers.”

Joan waved her head around to find the shop completely empty thanks to the storm outside. She turned back to the worker with an “are you kidding me?” look.

“She’s in the bathroom.” The worker said cooly.

Joan glowered, but her anger quickly dissolved and she made the closest thing to a sigh that she could manage. She stepped away from the counter and waited.

Several long moments passed. The rain outside continuously eased up and then fell harder as if Mother Nature couldn’t decide if she wanted to flood the city today or not. The worker behind the counter kept glancing at Joan, hoping that she would just give up and leave. She was now regretting telling her to wait because it meant she had some disabled kid just loitering in her store when the front door suddenly swung open.

Two haughty American tourists came in with a spray of raindrops, closing their umbrellas, but keeping up their giddy chatter as they approached the counter. One of them glanced at Joan with a questioning look. The worker waved a dismissive hand.

“Ignore her,” She said. “She’s waiting her turn until she learns how to speak up.”

Joan glared and, once again, gestured for her mouth.

“What is wrong with you?” One of the two customers said, pacing around Joan while the other placed an order. “Why don’t you speak?” He eyed Joan’s bruised jaw. “Ohhh. I see.”

“My little brother broke his jaw once,” His friend piped up. “He couldn’t talk for two months!”

“What does it feel like?” The one in front of Joan asked. “Does it hurt?”

Then, without warning, he poked her roughly in the jaw, as if he were trying to pry it open himself. Joan swatted his hands away frantically and reared back, rubbing the area that had been touched. Pain spiraled from her mouth all over again.

“Don’t be a brute.” Said a sharp, barbed voice from behind Joan.

“Oh, hey!” The customer at the counter said. “You’re Anne Boleyn, aren’t you?”

Joan turned and was shocked to see that it was, in fact, Anne Boleyn herself standing there. Her arms were crossed firmly over her chest and her eyes narrowed in a venomous glare. She looked like a coiled up snake ready to lunge.

“Yes,” Anne said, casting a dark glare down on the customers, who step away, sensing her anger. She comes up beside Joan and sets a comforting, protective hand on her shoulder. “You will not touch her again.”

The two tourists nodded and awkwardly sidled away to take their drinks and scamper out with their proverbial tails tucked between their legs.

“Now,” Anne turned her glower on the worker. “I understand that Joan had wanted something?”

“She can wait. You were here first.” The worker said.

Anne ruffled. “Serve her right now.” She snarled lowly, and even Joan was startled by her sudden tone. It was as deep and rumbling as a big cat’s growl, yet cold and scaly like a King Cobra.

The worker didn’t dare quarrel with the woman, so she plucked up the piece of paper left on the counter with Joan’s order and began to make the drink. The whole time, Joan stood still at Anne’s side, eyes wide.

After the drink was finished, Anne ordered one of her own, paid, and then guided Joan over to the front of the shop. She’s not at all bristled anymore and wore a warm smile on her lips.

“That was fun,” She chuckled lightly. “Say, kiddo, wanna come over for dinner? Sudden, I know-“ She laughed this time, a hearty, real one. “But I want to keep an eye on you. Plus, I know we’re having soup tonight. You can eat soup, can’t you?”

Joan nodded, flustered. Anne’s grin grew wider.

“Wonderful.”

—

“We have company!” Anne chimed loudly as she walked through the front door with a fidgeting Joan in tow.

Several heads popped up from an area in the downstairs area, each wearing a different expression- Cathy at the dining table with a curious look, Kitty and Jane on the couch with matching bitter frowns, Cleves from the downstairs hallway with friendly eyes, and Aragon in the kitchen with a warm grin. All Joan can do is give a tiny wave and a nervous smile.

“Hello, dear,” Aragon greeted as Anne and Joan walked over to the kitchen counter. The smell of basil and tomatoes drifted from the pot she was stirring. Anne’s memory hadn’t failed her- they were eating soup that night.

“Hello, beautiful.” Anne replied and Aragon shot her a look, although Joan could tell it was mock-annoyance. “I found this little rascal,” She set a hand on Joan’s head. “at that coffee shop with really good hot chocolate but really shitty workers.”

Aragon knew exactly what she meant, as she gave a knowing nod.

“Ah. That one.” She shook her head, looking back down at the pot. “I’m not sure what they did, but I’ll make sure to leave a one-star review on Yelp.”

Anne laughed, and even Joan gave a tiny giggle.

“Oh! I should show you my falcon before dinner!”

“It’s raining,” Jane said helpfully from the couch. Anne gave her a snake-like glower.

“Don’t be a buzzkill,” She said. “Come on, my darling!”

She grabbed Joan by the hand and led her out to the backyard, missing the blush that dusted her cheeks from the use of the pet name.

The two of them walk out to the backyard, Joan holding an umbrella over their heads, and towards a large wooden structure. It sort of looked like a house with a metal net grating over the sides. Joan could see several perches from inside it.

Anne gave her a wild smile before she slipped on a glove and opened the small door on the front. She held her arm into the pen and then pulled back after a moment, a beautiful brown and grey falcon perched on her wrist. Joan goggles at it with wide eyes.

“This is Baguette.” Anne said. “Just kidding! Her name is Freya. Isn’t she pretty?”

Joan nodded excitedly.

“Watch this.” Anne grinned. “Freya! Hup!”

Anne threw a leather lure as high as she could in the air and Freya shot off of her arm like a rocket. Her wings were primed and they slammed down with more than enough force to send her spiraling into the sky. He darted after the lure, and Anne snapped the cord attached to it, sending the mouse-sized lump off to the side, spinning like a satellite on a line around her. Freya banked, flying up and away a short way before looping around and diving at the lure. It’s clear that she is very good at this game, but Anne had learned just the right moment to change the angle of her swing, switching the direction the lure is sailing and throwing her off just enough that she has to make another pass.

Anne twirled the lure like a lasso, changing the pitch and yaw of the loops, sending it higher, lower, and in sweeping waves. Freya moves like a lightning strike in a hurricane, dive bombing one moment just as she yanks it away, rising back to circle, prepare, and dive again.

They fall into a rhythm, just different enough to keep them on their toes, but solid enough that the rest of the world faded away, until Freya broke off suddenly, catching a glimpse of something else.

“Freya!” Anne shouted as Joan giggled softly beside her. She snapped the lure in an attempt to catch her bird’s attention. “Come on! You’re making a bad first impression!”

Freya wheeled around after a moment and soared back down to the two. She lands dutifully on Anne’s outstretched arm, but is clearly a little crabby about not being able to catch her prey. She eases up when Anne gives her a treat.

“Wanna hold her?” Anne asked Joan, who nodded eagerly. She passed the girl a glove, which she quickly pulled on. “Okay. Be very careful, okay? And don’t freak out.”

Anne took the umbrella and passed Freya over to Joan. The bird stepped onto the younger girl’s arms and flexed her razor sharp talons around the glove, squeezing Joan’s wrist. Joan eyed the claws wryly.

Anne could tell Joan had a million questions, but her wired jaw kept her from verbalizing them. All she could do was stare at the falcon and the falconer with saucer-wide eyes.

“Dinner’s ready!” Aragon suddenly called from the back door.

Joan jolted a little and instinctively leaned away, but Freya remained poised on her arm. Anne laughed and put her bird back into her pen.

“Impressed?” She grinned.

Joan nodded.

“Good!” Anne said. “Now, let’s get inside before Catalina starts yelling at us about catching our death out here or something.”

The two of them walked back inside the house, being hit by the wonderful smell of the soup, which Aragon was pouring into seven different colored bowls. She smiled at them.

“Have fun?”

“Yup!” Anne said. “Joan was very impressed.”

Joan gave two thumbs up in agreement. Aragon’s heart melted.

“Why are there seven bowls?” Kitty asked obnoxiously.

“Uhh. Joan.” Aragon answered, blinking. “You should know that, Kat. She’s standing right there.”

“Yeah, but... Can she even eat?”

“Kit, don’t be stupid,” Anne said, slightly defensive. “Come on, stop acting like this. You know damn well that the doctors wouldn’t wire her jaw shut for a long period of time if she wouldn’t be able to eat or drink for that long.”

Kitty is clearly miffed by her cousin not being on her side and shoots a glare at Joan for it. Then, she raised her nose, looked away, and huffed out an annoyed breath.

“How long will the wires be there?” Cathy asked curiously.

Joan held up eight fingers.

“Weeks?”

She nodded.

There was a swell of murmurs- intrigued, pitiful, amused. Aragon was the one who grimaced.

“I couldn’t imagine that,” She said, rubbing her own jaw as if she thought it might spontaneously break. “Not being able to open my mouth for that long.”

“It’s like reverse lockjaw,” Cleves observed. “Just with less seizures.”

“Does it hurt?” Cathy asked.

Joan made a so-so gesture and then set a tentative hand on one of her heavily bruised cheeks, remembering the touch from that rude tourist. Ever since she had been prodded, her jaw had started hurting again. It felt like someone was trying to forcefully pry her mouth open with a crowbar.

She tried to just ignore it and sat down at the dinner table after getting her bowl. The soup was a lot chunkier than she had been expecting; she looked at the slices of potato in dismay, unsure how she would get them past her firm wall of teeth.

“Need a straw?” Kitty teased. She yelped loudly when Anne kicked her underneath the table.

Joan scowled at the pink queen, then brought a spoonful of soup to her lips. She had to awkwardly tip her head back slightly to make sure she didn’t spill anything on her. Sadly, her teeth were too bound together by rubber-bands to keep her jaws from moving from opening just a sliver to allow the bits of meat and potato to pass through, so only the liquids that flow through the random holes between her teeth reach her throat and stomach.

It had been much easier to drink her coffee.

“Sweetheart,” Aragon said, unable to watch the poor girl struggle any longer. “I’ll get the blender.”

Joan hunched her shoulders, embarrassed. Kitty tittered. Anne kicked her again.

“Ow!” Kitty whined. “Stop doing that!”

“Then stop being a brat.” Anne said cooly.

“I’m not a brat!”

“Well, you’re acting like one right now.”

“This is very entertaining.” Cleves commented. Anne flashed her an agreeing grin. Kitty sulked.

The loud sound of the blender stopped the argument from continuing. A few moments later, Aragon set a cup of blended soup with a straw in front of Joan. Joan gawked at it and then looked up at Aragon, one eyebrow raised. Aragon quickly swiped the straw.

“First the mint and now this?” Anne laughed.

“What mint?” Cathy asked.

“Catalina apparently offered Joan a mint earlier.” Anne told her.

Laughter erupted around the table. Aragon rolled her eyes as she sat back down.

“It was a mistake!” She tried to defend herself. “And an accident!”

Joan gave her a small smile before going back to eating. Well- drinking. Although, it wasn’t much easier. She wished she had the syringe she had been using for the past two days or the tube the doctors had used with her.

She quickly licked off the thick caking of soup on her lips, hoping that nobody had noticed it was there, then saw Kitty leering at her. She bristled and raised her eyebrows as if to say, “What?”

“What’s the name of that Warriors cat with the weird jaw?” Kitty asked the rest of the group, pleasantly pretending like Joan wasn’t sitting just a few feet away from her.

“Crookedjaw?” Cathy answered.

“Yeah!” Kitty turned to Joan with a smile as crooked as the girl’s mouth. “We can call you Crookedjaw! Seems like a fitting nickname.”

Anne gaped in horror at her younger cousin. She was so startled that she couldn’t even kick the queen. Aragon, on the other hand, wasn’t as stricken as she was.

“Katherine, what the fuck?” Aragon seethed.

“What?” Kitty said innocently. “It fits her!”

“Are you fucking nuts?” Aragon said, eyes wide and burning like hot embers. “No, actually- are you stupid?”

“She was just messing around, Catherine.” Jane tried to smooth things over.

“Don’t defend her!” Aragon snapped. “You should tighten the leash on her.”

“She’s not a dog.” Jane hissed.

“And yet she’s as annoying as a chihuahua that never shuts up,” Aragon said. She stood up, grabbed her bowl, and walked over to Joan. “Come on, Joan.”

Joan got up and followed her to the staircase. Anne went with them, but not without rounding on her cousin.

“If you’re going to call her Crookedjaw, then maybe we should start calling you Lostneck or Severedhead.” She said coldly. A mocking smile curled on her lips. “Because it fits.”

Kitty went rigid, but neither Anne or Aragon stuck around for her possible panic attack. They herd Joan upstairs and to Aragon’s room.

“I am so sorry, Joan.” Anne said once they were inside. “I don’t know what’s gotten into her.”

“She thinks everything will be handed to her on a silver platter.” Aragon stated as she began to rummage through her pajamas. “Entitled brat. Just like you said.”

Anne nodded in agreement, then looked back at Joan. She carefully cupped one of her cheeks.

“Are you okay, my darling?”

Joan closed her eyes, unconsciously leaned into the touch, and nodded.

“Alright.” Anne said. “So... Movie night?”

“Sounds good to me,” Aragon said. She tossed a pair of pajamas over to Joan. “They might be a little big, but you can wear these.”

Joan nodded and padded off to the bathroom to change. When she returns, she finds Aragon and Anne already situated on the bed in their pajamas. Aragon was clad in a pale yellow nightgown with white rims and a bow near the collar, while Anne was dressed in green cotton sleeping pants and a button-down shirt of the same color. Joan looked a lot less fancy in a grey T-shirt with something about a fishing competition embroidered in white on it, which she had no idea what the origins of it being Catherine of Aragon’s dresser were, and some black gym shorts.

“Come on,” Anne waved her over, rolling out of the bed. “Lay down!”

It takes Joan a moment to realize she was supposed to lay in between them. She swallowed down her flustered feelings and obeyed, clambering up the side of the bed and sitting beside Aragon with her knees huddled close to her chest. She could feel the golden queen’s comforting warmth wavering off of her half-reclined body.

God, she was pathetic. Ever since Anne she touched her shoulder at that coffee shop something had awoken within her and refused to go back to sleep.

That something ranged from a persistently mewing kitten to a starved, roaring lion—she’d tried for a sheep or goat metaphor, because that seemed more fitting for her, but frankly, sheep were a good bit easier to manage than whatever this was.

Joan pointed to the TV as movies were flicked through and then gave each queen a questioning look. She knew she could sign, but she didn’t feel like putting Anne and Aragon through the process of having to translate what she was saying. Plus, just being completely quiet and onto using facial features and occasional gestures like this almost felt...serene.

“We’re watching Hush.” Anne said, smirking slightly. “Which has absolutely nothing to do with you not being able to talk, I promise.”

Joan giggled softly and nodded.

“Only because you lost Rock, Paper, Scissors.” Aragon retorted. She looked at Joan with motherly concern that nearly sent Joan keeling over into her chest crying. “Are you okay to watch it?”

Joan nodded. She could take it, really! She wasn’t a baby!

And yet, when the neighbor character is suddenly slammed against the glass backdoor with a knife in her gut, she still lurched backwards and nearly climbed up the headboard in fear. Anne laughed sympathetically, while Aragon gently touched her hand.

“Are you okay, sweet girl?” She asked softly.

Joan nodded, but still ducked her head away from the screen, wincing.

Aragon watched the poor girl cringe for two more minutes before she wrapped her up in her arms and pulled her securely against her chest. Joan was clearly surprised by this, but didn’t make any move to pull away. In fact, she burrowed deep into her embrace.

“Awww,” Anne cooed, glancing at the two of them. “So cute.”

“Jealous?” Aragon smirked.

Anne stuck her tongue out at her, then resumed watching.

Joan peeked out from where she had her face smothered in Aragon’s soft chest and begrudgingly continued to watch the movie because she was interested in it, she was just a tad bit frightened by it. But, again, it was okay! SHE was okay!

And then they got to the closeup of Maddie’s hand being broken and the memory of falling down the stairs flashed through Joan’s brain- slipping and falling, tumbling down each step, smashing her jaw into the tile at the bottom, the bones in her mouth crunching and cracking and grinding, her teeth cutting into her tongue and feeling like it had been severed completely, blood gargling in her throat, everyone staring at her. It was horrific, it STILL WAS horrific.

“Anne!” Aragon barked when Joan whimpered and hid her face back into her chest.

“I didn’t know that was in it!” Anne said, raising her hands. “This is the first time I’m seeing this!”

Anne paused the movie and turned to Joan, who was shaking in Aragon’s arm. She gently began to rub her back comfortingly, seeing as Aragon was already stroking her hair.

“Joan? My darling?” Anne called. “Are you okay?”

Joan nodded weakly, sniffling. She raised her head and Aragon immediately wiped away the tears in her eyes.

“Oh, you poor thing,” Aragon murmured.

“Does anything hurt?” Anne asked. “Or did you just get scared?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Aragon nodded. “What she said! Are you hurting?”

Joan shrugged, looking away. Aragon slapped Anne’s arm frantically.

“Go get painkillers.”

“Catalina, how is she supposed to swallow a PILL?” Anne cried.

“Oh no, you’re right!” Aragon pulled Joan close to her bosom and bright red mixed awkwardly with purple and blue on the girl’s face. “My baby’s going to die!” She said woefully.

“She’s not going to—” Anne had to stop to give Aragon a confused looked. “She’s not going to die, Catalina.” She glanced momentarily at Joan smooshed against her chest. “I mean, not from not taking a pill, but your tits might suffocate her to death.”

Aragon looked down at Joan and quickly pushed her back. She cleared her throat and smoothed out her nightgown.

“Yes. Of course.” She said and Anne and Joan both laughed. She gave them a look. “I was just acting! I am an actor. And you fell for it!”

Anne rolled her eyes in a good natured way. “Yeah, okay.”

After making sure Joan was completely okay, they ended up switching the movie to The Incredibles 2. Joan was still very giddy from the way both queens fussed over her, and yet she still found her eyelids drooping shut...

—

“Catalina, look,” Anne whispered.

Aragon turned her attention away from the movie to look at Joan curled against Anne, soundly asleep. Then, she noticed one of the girl’s hands grasping three of her fingers- apparently she couldn’t find the other two in her tired daze. Her heart absolutely melted.

“Oh my,” She murmured. “What a sweet girl.”

“I know,” Anne grinned. “She’s so cute.” She leaned down to press a soft kiss to the top of Joan’s head, causing her to stir with a sleepy noise before settling down. Anne gently began to stroke her hair.

Aragon moved closer until she and Anne were practically sandwiching the girl with their bodies. Joan seemed content, though, as she would constantly nuzzle closer to the warmth and touch.

Perhaps the eight weeks wouldn’t be so bad after all...

#six the musical #six the musical fanfic #six the musical fanfiction #six fanfic #six fanfiction #sixfic #catherine of aragon #mamagon #nana boleyn #anne boleyn #katherine howard #joan on the keys #jane seymour #anna of cleves #catherine parr #aralyn #aragon x boleyn #teeth

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delimeful · 5 years

Text

WIBAR Intermission: Making Adjustments (1)

welcome to the first chapter of the intermission! if you’re new to this AU, you can find the first chapter here and the ao3 story here!

warnings: tension, blood, fear, nightmares, medical torture, needle mention

Virgil’s first impression of their ship was that it looked a lot less futuristic than Star Wars would have had him believe.

It was less ‘fighter jet’ and more ‘classic UFO’ in style, cylindrical and all curves instead of edges. The panels on it seemed to be made of some obsidian-like metal, glinting in the storm’s light. He didn’t know how it compared with other ships, seeing as he’d spent most of his time in space stuck in a cell on one, and thus didn’t have many references.

Oh his shoulder, Patton shook, spraying water from his ruff of feathers like a dog after a bath. Virgil squinted as a few droplets hit his face, and ignored the odd staring that the thin, willowy alien- Logan?- was doing. If Patton’s friend had something to say to him, he could say it outright, because Virgil wasn’t a mind reader.

... Were there aliens that could read minds?

Patton tapped his shoulder with a clawed finger, pointing at a slight imprint in the ship. “There’s the door! Luckily, we’ve got one of the bigger models since Roman is on the larger end of the alien size scale! You’ll fit just fine.”

“Lucky isn't the word I would use.” Virgil’s shoulders rose slightly as he caught the grumble from a few feet behind him, unheard by Patton’s duller ears. If he wasn’t so on edge, he’d be annoyed. If Roman was going to shit-talk him, he could at least do it in something other than Common so Virgil didn’t have to listen to it.

It was already difficult enough just letting the Crav’on walk behind him; everything in Virgil screamed danger at even the smallest movement from the bulky alien. At a squat five foot, Roman wasn’t able to loom over Virgil, but his spike-like scales were all fully extended, making him look like a mix between an angry cat and a porcupine. His rigid, shell-like ears kept twitching, and frankly, Virgil was expecting to get one of those scales through his spine any minute now.

Patton shifted eagerly, his feathers fluffing in a way that meant he wanted down, and Virgil swiftly crouched to allow the Ampen an easier trip to the ground. Both of the others twitched at the fast movement, and he barely repressed the urge to flinch in response. Showing his nerves would only make them more anxious. Conceal, don’t feel, ect.

As promised, he only had to duck his head slightly to get through the ship’s main entry door, and the hallways were luckily tall enough that he could pass through in his customary slouch. He couldn’t help but stare like an idiot as Patton led him through the ship’s passages, getting glimpses of other rooms full of the alien versions of furniture and books. Such normal, everyday objects, but for a while he’d never thought he’d get to see them again.

Roman and Logan accompanied them, as though the moment they let Patton out of their sight, he’d vanish. Though he suspected this in large had to do with the Ampen dragging around an entire Human, he could understand it. He’d also do just about anything to keep Patton safe, after all. He couldn’t blame them for it when he himself had a panic attack nearly every time the Ampen had left for a town to get supplies without him.

“Here!” Patton announced, guiding him into what was probably a bathroom. The Ampen leapt up onto the counter, pulling a white cylindrical container from one of the shelves. “We’ve got plenty of bandages for when Roman gets himself into trouble. Can you rinse that scratch off for me?”

Virgil nodded and spent a moment fiddling with the sink while Roman protested loudly, something about defending his honor and trouble finding him. Once he managed to get the water running, he carefully peeled his sleeve away from his cheek, wincing when the fibers pulled at the newly clotted blood. Logan appeared at his side and offered him a dark cloth towel, making him jump in surprise. “Uh, thanks.”

After a fair amount of delicate washing and applying some basic disinfectant spray, Patton gestured for him to crouch. His eyes flickered to the other two, who were watching him with fascination and disgust, respectively. He… didn’t particularly want to be more exposed than he already was in front of them, Roman especially, but it was Patton asking, and what right did he have to deny Patton anything? He folded down into range of his little clawed hands, trying not to shiver at the cool air on the back of his neck.

Patton carefully applied gauze and tape all along the injury, making him feel like an underdressed mummy. “There! They’re pretty shallow, so they should heal up in no time with your healing rate!”

“Thanks, Pat.” He quickly rose back to a standing position, shoulders slouched.

The Ampen beamed at him, and Virgil felt more than saw the other two aliens stiffen. He let the edge of his mouth curl up in response, but carefully didn’t show any teeth. Never let it be said that he didn’t learn.

“Patton.” Logan reached out with one of his upper arms, settling crystalline fingers onto Patton’s shoulder. The Ampen leaned into the touch with a melodic hum. “Perhaps we could settle in the living quarters. We have a lot to catch up on.”

Virgil glanced between them, remembering that they were Patton’s real friends, and they’d been looking for Patton for ages, and had somehow managed to track them down where a huge smuggling organization had failed. Patton no doubt missed them just as much, his antennae fluffed out the way they were when he was truly happy.

He wasn’t about to ruin their happy reunion by making the others uncomfortable or worse, afraid. He couldn’t do that to Patton, even if his chest ached with the certainty that his welcome would only be temporary. Maybe the less he intruded, the longer they’d let him stay?

He cleared his throat awkwardly, drawing their attention. “I’m tired. Is it okay if I…?”

Patton frowned in worry and Roman sneered, but Logan was the one to speak, extra arms tucked behind his back politely. “Of course. We have a guest room, though it’s not particularly furnished at the moment.”

Virgil’s shoulders dropped a little at the idea of having some space to himself to breathe. “Yeah, that works perfect. Thank you.”

Once they reached the room, Patton was beckoning him down into a crouch again so he could check his head for ‘human illnesses’. Virgil chuckled quietly, still all-too-aware of the foreign eyes on him.

“No fever, Pat. I’m a little… too-much, right now.” He carefully moved Patton’s hand from his forehead and patted it like he was handling precious glass. “I’ll be okay. You said… they’re safe, yeah?”

Patton nodded exuberantly. “I would trust them with my life, Vee.” He paused, antennae flicking back and forth in uncertainty. “I… can I come check in later?”

Virgil felt himself soften further, well aware of Patton’s nerves at separating. He felt the same way, after all. “Always.”

Patton nodded again, gently bumping his head against the underside of Virgil’s chin before finally withdrawing. He watched as the three of them began to walk down the hall, Patton waving with a tiny hand and Roman shooting him a glare, and then ducked into the guest room, making sure to leave the sliding door partially open.

It was plain but had all the necessities, which was all Virgil really cared about, considering he’d been sleeping on the dirt ground for the past month. He checked the perimeter of the room carefully, exploring every corner and door.

Rationally, he knew there shouldn’t be any danger hidden away here, but he was too used to making sure his and Patton’s campsite wouldn’t be found by any stray locals. Habits that kept one alive were hard to break.

Eventually the paranoid itch in the back of his mind was satisfied, and he crawled into the bed, which was more of a hollow egg-shape, stuffed full of mounds of soft bedding. It was easily large enough for him, thankfully, and he settled in to sleep.

…

Sleep didn’t come.

Ridiculously enough, it was because he was too comfortable. The room was cool and quiet and dark, with no weather or local insects to worry about hurting Patton, but it was also wide and exposed to anyone who walked past his door. The bedding was soft and smooth, but clean enough that he felt bad for sprawling his dirty body across it.

He wondered vaguely if he could maybe shower, and then dismissed the thought. He didn’t even know what the supplies or facilities were like on this ship, and he really didn’t want to be without his clothes until he was sure one of the others weren’t going to attack him.

After what seemed like hours of tossing and turning, he gave in and dragged a thin blanket along to one of the odd circular storage cabinets in the room. It had a flat bottom, and it was hard and enclosed from any passerby, and that was enough for him. He had to fold his body slightly to fit in it fully, but he’d slept in worse conditions. Much worse.

Within moments, his eyelids drooped, and he was out.

He woke up strapped to a table, which was never a very pleasant way to wake. Above him, aliens in full-body protective suits muttered and babbled clinically in Common that was too complex for him to understand. He couldn’t struggle, stuck in his body looking out as he was stuck with needles and tubes.

At least this time whatever drug they had used to paralyze him was keeping him from feeling the pain.

His vision blurred in and out of focus, mind drifting as he watched bits and pieces of himself be cut away.

Suddenly, all the harvesters seemed to vanish, stepping back out of sight. He wished he could turn his head to see them, make sure they weren’t doing anything without him knowing, but what difference did it make? It wasn’t like he could do anything about it.

The horror of the situation only began to settle in fully when the Machine appeared at his side. His eyes locked onto its glossy surface immediately, his breaths coming quicker and quicker as gloved hands strapped cold bands around his forehead and wrists.

They flipped him over, and even though all he could see was the table, he knew the moment they’d attached the barbed metallic strip to his back, right along his spinal cord. His nerves jumped, feeling jolting through them again, minutes too late.

He had already been dumped in the arena, a room with cold white walls and windows set into the ceiling for harvesters to look down on him and whatever unlucky bastard they threw in with him today.

His gaze was drawn back down to the door lifting on the other side of the chamber. Speak of the devil.

Virgil rolled to his feet, ignoring the ache of his body to prepare himself. Almost all of the aliens they paired him with came out of the door ready to maul him, be it from anger, or drugs, or simple terror. He’d gotten enough scars trying to talk them down, enough to know the futility of it.

When the door rose, however, he knew the face behind it. Patton?

It was as though the past months had never happened, like they were meeting in that cell for the first time again. Patton shook and trembled, scrambling back against the door as it swung shut after him. Virgil felt something in him ache at the sight.

He opened his mouth to reassure him, tried to kneel and reduce the difference in height between them, to look as nonthreatening as possible. Patton, I would never hurt you.

His body was silent. It took a step forward without Virgil’s input. And then another. And then he was suddenly there, inches away from the Ampen, hand reaching out for his throat and Patton let out a desperate wail, the one he’d only heard once, just before their escape—

Virgil jerked awake like he’d been electrocuted by a guard taser, choking on his own spit as he struggled to breathe.

Just a dream. Just a dream.

He tried to concentrate, reaching out with a feather-light (never careless, never harmful) touch for the reassuring, fluffy weight of his friend against him. All he found was air, and his fear levels shot up into panic attack territory. Where was Patton? Patton wasn’t there, Patton was gone, Patton was-

Patton was home. Patton was safely bundled into bed with his real family, the ones that didn’t have violent, horrifying nightmares.

The memories of the past however many hours hit him, then, and his hands fell limp back to his sides. He shouldn’t be feeling this way, he knew, because Patton was safe and happy here, and that was what the Ampen deserved. That was what mattered, not his stupid little hurt feelings over the fact that Patton’s friends definitely hated him. He dragged a hand over his face tiredly, mouth sour with the knowledge that he was a bad friend.

All intent to sleep gone, he attempted to reach for the cabinet door, only to find empty air. He blinked, squinting in the dark, and found it easily enough. He’d apparently kicked out in his nightmare, because his right foot was stuck in the detached cabinet door, driven through the white material like it was cheap plaster. Oops.

This made it considerably more difficult to maneuver his body out of the cabinet, but he managed without driving the splintered door into his ankle too much. Still stung terribly when he pulled it off though, leaving several fresh new scrapes. Hopefully those wouldn’t get infected.

The door to his temporary room was still partially open, thankfully, and he quietly nudged it further to slip out into the hallway. The lights had been dimmed partially, probably to simulate night and keep them on a routine sleep schedule. The smugglers hadn’t bothered with light cycles for his cell, leaving one corner of the room darkened at all times for whenever he got exhausted enough to sleep. It was a nice change.

Aimless beyond an urge to ascertain Patton’s safety, he wandered the ship near-silently, glancing at any open doors he passed and attempting to figure out what the purpose of them was from what little he could see in the rooms. There were helpful labels on some of the doors, but he still didn’t know how to read the written form of Common. Patton had offered to teach him, but there wasn’t much time to waste writing in the dirt while they were on the run.

Still slightly out of it from his nightmare, Virgil almost walked right into one of Roman’s sharp-edged scales before realizing he was there. He froze, breath catching in his lungs as he waited for the bulky alien to notice him there at his side. The alien turned his head slowly, the horns atop it forming a distinct crown silhouette.

Roman’s red eyes were just light enough in color to be picked out from the rest of his face, and Virgil watched in disbelief as they passed over him without a second glance. The alien shuddered slightly, the movement making his scales rattle and shift, and then turned away to tromp back down the hall.

Night vision, Virgil suddenly recalled, thinking about how often he’d had to guide Patton through terrain in the dark. He’d thought it might have just been an Ampen thing, but it looked like Roman’s species didn’t see into shadows too well either. He let out a slow breath, watching as Roman began his circuit anew. He could only assume that the area he was patrolling was where the others were resting. Of course Roman would be up to guard them from the human.

Guess he wouldn’t be able to check on Patton after all.

Suddenly more tired than before, he waited until Roman’s back was turned and then bolted back the way he’d come on silent feet.

Well. It wasn’t like he hadn’t spent sleepless nights alone before now. A few more on a new ship wouldn’t hurt, since he couldn’t imagine it would be long before he was back to sleeping out on hostile planets.

#sanders sides #g/t #giant/tiny #ts virgil #space au #wibar #ts roman #ts logan #ts patton #wibar int: ma #watch it burn and rust #wibar intermission #*winks at you all* surprise!#writing #my writing

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lady-divine-writes · 4 years

Text

Klainetober one-shot - “Scorched Earth” (Rated PG13)

Summary: "We ran to escape it ... to escape the oncoming horde ... but there is no escaping an enemy that has no end ..." (Or the day the Ander-Hummels came back from vacation to discover they now live in a whole new world ... a harsh and terrifying world ... which needs to be rectified before Tracy goes to school on Monday ...) (1097 words)

Notes: A fun little re-write for Halloween, re-worked to fit the @klainetober prompts 'monsters' and 'scream'. Warning for brief mention of the pandemic and quarantine, but the rest is all in good fun, I promise <3

Read on AO3.

Dear diary …

Blaine heaves a heavy sigh. His eyes flicker up, staring across the harsh, sterile scenery, and he wonders why? Why them? Why were they targeted? They were so careful. Kurt especially. Blaine’s beloved husband. Always so careful, so thorough. What had they done to bring this curse down upon them?

But more importantly, what happens now?

His eyes linger longer than they should, but not towards the future. On the present - the life he once knew before his arduous battle began.

It’s been three weeks since we left home in search of comfort, a more hospitable landscape, and water.

Mostly water.

Fsst!

This new reality we find ourselves in is open and vast, full of exciting opportunities. But it’s also foreign and dangerous. One wrong step could mean the end of us, but we must hold tight to hope.

Hope and family.

That’s all we have.

Fsst!

I fear for the safety of those I love.

My gorgeous and talented husband.

My sweet and innocent child.

Our plucky and loyal cat.

I don’t know how long we can continue on this way, but we have to keep going. We have to search. We have to scavenge. This … this is how we will survive.

Fsst!

I suspect it was the heat. The blasted, unseasonal heat! Climate change, global warming ... these aren't just myths! I've seen them! We've felt their effects! Year after year, things have gotten worse. We ran to escape, but there is none. Where do we go? This planet is our home! It's the only one we have! We don't possess the technology to explore the universe in search of another! We did our best to cope, to wait it out, but everything we did to push them away drove them to us.

We couldn't win.

We couldn't even stem the horde. Those monsters! And now, we are overwhelmed by their numbers. They come and come and come and show no signs of stopping. Who knows from where they originate?

Who knows how many there are?

I am doing all that I can, but more keep coming, and I … I cannot stop them.

Fsst!

Was it a mistake coming back? Did we really need to return? The sad answer is yes. These four humble walls and a roof are all we have. And it’s my duty to defend them.

Besides, Tracy has Zoom school on Monday and, apparently, that’s important or something.

Fsst!

The fog is thick.

Fsst!

It never ends.

Fsst!

It's supposed to help.

Fsst!

It hasn't yet.

Fsst!

It makes you want to scream. But when you open your mouth, it steals your voice, fills your mouth and throat, replaces the air.

Fsst!

Blaine sniffles. He blinks watering eyes, trying to focus on the task in front of him, of destroying the army marching relentlessly onward despite his best efforts.

Fsst! Fsst!

It burns the eyes, the nose, the mouth, he mutters. Makes it difficult to breathe, to think. Everything around us is a haze of grey; the air a toxic, chemical soup. I feel myself affected, slipping into a delirium from which I may never recover. And though I will take hundreds of them with me, it won’t make a dent. Not a God dammed dent!

They may still win.

Fsst!

If I don’t make it … if I don’t survive … I only hope that my husband and my daughter can forgive my weakness and remember me the way I was - young … motivated … sexy … a warrior … but also a bastion of love and kindness …

“If I remember correctly, aren't I supposed to be the drama queen? God, Blaine! You're as bad as Rachel.” Kurt coughs, waving a hand in front of his face.

"Nice, Kurt ..."

“Are you high? You have to be. You’re three inches away from the floor, spraying a layer of Raid so thick, the tile is changing colors. Can’t you just spray the ants without making it an event?”

Blaine sits up on his knees, a little giddy, a little woozy, and takes a deep breath of less contaminated air. The world spins left, then goes black for a moment, and after that, he starts giggling uncontrollably. He hears Kurt tut and knows without looking that his husband is shaking his head, probably imagining the amount of damage Blaine has done to his brain. Blaine can admit that he's gotten black-out drunk a time or two more than he should have and come out unscathed, but huffing Raid at his age can’t be good. Maybe he should reconsider calling an exterminator instead of tackling this himself, but it kind of hit them by surprise.

Quarantine had been getting to them.

Getting to them hard.

When times get tough, they normally take refuge at Kurt's dad's, but they couldn't risk it. Not with his existing health concerns. Not considering the fact that Kurt had just returned from a fashion show overseas before this all blew up. Burt Hummel landed squarely in the high-risk category. He'd proactively put himself on lockdown along with Carole before any state mandates went out. Kurt wasn't going to chance bringing this pandemic straight to their door.

So, the Ander-Hummel clan did the next best thing.

They ran away to the Anderson family cabin in Idyllwild.

They’d come home only a few hours ago to discover they had squatters - a humongous colony of ants that had found a way in and made themselves at home, forced inside by the intense heat (even though it's autumn) on a search for water. And they'd found it, pooled inside the cat's freshly cleaned water dish. How it didn't evaporate in the scorching heat, Blaine has no idea.

Blaine takes a few more cleansing breaths. When the world finally slows to a nauseating bob, he turns to his husband.

“You never let me have any fun,” he pouts.

“Are you sure about that?" Kurt asks, crossing his arms over his chest. "I want you to think about last night. Think really hard. And this morning. And over lunch when Tracy took her nap. And then answer me honestly …”

"O-okay, okay," Blaine says, recalling all of the fun they'd had together during those times - all of the athletic, naked, X-rated fun. “Uh, yeah … I may not be thinking clearly. You know, with the Raid, the protecting our house …”

“Yeah, well, your version of protecting our house is keeping me from eating my cheesecake, so chippity-chop-chop, soldier! Let's get this over with.”

#klaine fanfiction #Klaine fic #klaine #klainetober

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garbagevanfleet · 5 years

Text

Learn To Leave A Room (series)

PART TWO

Pairing: Jake & female!Reader Warnings: general sexiness, but nothing too risque yet Summary: Balancing relationships is hard work - God forbid someone throw a wrench into it. Notes: oh my god, im sorry guys. sexual tension is my favorite thing in the whole world.

MASTERLIST

“I am not ashamed, the story goes. I swear I will learn to leave a room without touching every part of your face.” — Marcelo Hernandez Castillo, “How to Grow the Brightest Geranium,” published in Breakwater Review

“Obviously you have to talk to him.”

Despite being nearly noon, it’s still too early for this conversation. Lucy has dragged you back to the diner, hoping to nurse your collective hangovers with some coffee and a greasy breakfast, but all you had really wanted to do was crawl into your own bed.

“You can’t just leave things like they are. I mean, he is still your boyfriend until you actually break up with him, right?” she tries again. You know she’s right. She’s always so insightful about these kinds of things, and hung-over you is a little annoyed by her sound logic.

You had told her a very selective recounting of what had happened last night, leaving out anything to do with Jake. You weren’t ever planning on telling her the rest.

You and Lucy had stayed over at the Kiszka residence, cuddled up together on the couch, but you - very luckily - did not have to see anyone else before you had left.

“I know. I will eventually,” you assure, staring down at the half-eaten cheeseburger you ordered and wondering if you can take another bite. You opt instead to pick at it with your fork. “Mostly I want him to have to think about it all for a while. Get in his own head.”

She giggles at you. “Mind games,” she says in the way of agreement. She’s silent for a moment as you watch her stir her milkshake with her straw. “I’m sorry he did that to you. I could tell that you didn’t want to invite him; I shouldn’t have pushed you.”

You shake your head at her. “It’s so not your fault. I think it’s good that I figured out who he really is early on. You know, before I actually got to like him.”

“You didn’t really like him?” Her tone is sheepish.

You shake your head. “It was fun at first, but no. I will miss the regular sex though,” you add, making her laugh.

“Well, I guess you’ll have to just kick him to the curb and get back out there. You’re going to find someone that’s going to treat you right.”

You nod in agreement and give her a thankful smile, but somehow you feel that you won’t be joining the dating scene for a while.

+++

Mitch never does text you, so you decide you won’t either. It feels a little unresolved, but you’re honestly grateful to not have to deal with the confrontation. He had never left anything at your house, and you hadn’t taken more than one or two pictures together, so you forget about him pretty easily.

You do feel anxious off and on, but you don’t think it’s from the breakup. You can’t quite put your finger on it, but you pick up an extra-long shift at the cafe to fill your time. Fall is the start of the busy season for baristas, so you very infrequently have a moment to dwell on anything at work.

After a long day of steaming and steeping, you cannot wait to get home and wash off. The most you ever feel like yourself is in the shower - it’s always a mental cleansing process just as much as a physical one. Soft music starts to play from the speaker on the bathroom counter as you connect your phone.

You turn the water to the perfect temperature to warm you up from the walk home, and it feels borderline euphoric as you step under the spray. You let the water wash over you, but the second you close your eyes, you snap them back open with an anxious feeling.

You try it again. You lean back, close your eyes... but to the same result.

You stand and stare blankly at the shower wall.

“Fuck,” you breathe. Every time you close your eyes, all you can see is Jake looking back at you from across the living room.

The lights on his face, the contrast of his dark hair against the white door frame - you can even hear the music that was playing. All of it. It’s haunting you.

You rub the heels of your palms into your eyes, trying to will it away, but you can’t stop your brain from playing the image back to you.

“Fuck,” you whisper again, a bit more desperately this time and slump against the cold shower wall. You stay there, staring at the tile in front of you until you realize that the issue isn’t going to go away.

You give up and wash your hair, absent of the task. A slight annoyance slips over you because you can’t even enjoy the ritual with your mind so preoccupied. You take a deep breath and let your eyes slip closed as the warm water rinses the soap away.

He’s waiting for you in the black, but this time you’re on the patio with him, watching him smoke his cigarette down to the filter. It’s only for a moment, but in that moment you can smell the smoke. Feel the leather of his jacket. Taste his skin.

You remember the intensity in his eyes as you sucked his thumb into your mouth and you try to recall every little thing about how he looked at that moment. You groan at yourself, realizing just how stupid you are for ever letting yourself feel like this.

When you step out of the shower, you promise yourself that you won’t think about it anymore, but you still do. You try to bargain with yourself.

You won’t think about it again after tonight, you think, but you know it’s a lie.

You blow dry your hair in the mirror and stare at the spot on your neck that Mitch had left you with. It’s faded to the point that it’s nearly undetectable, but you can see it. You want to hate Mitch for it, but somewhere in the back of your mind, you’re acutely aware that if he hadn’t done that, you would have never had the time you did with Jake. The party would have just been normal and you would still have Mitch’s number saved in your phone. Jake was right, who knows how long you would have kept dating him, despite the lack of interest on your part.

You lay down in bed with your warm pajamas on, your feet dangling off the side and your cell in your hands. Jake’s contact information is pulled up and you flip to the Messages tab. You’ve only ever messaged him a couple of times; once when he asked you about a song you had been playing that he wanted to know the name of, and once when Josh and him were coming to pick you and Lucy up and he was messaging that they were waiting outside.

You lay the phone face down on your chest and stare up at your ceiling. Your heart is fluttering as you think about what would happen if you called him. Right now.

It’s just a reckless idea - you’d never do it - but that doesn’t stop your eyes from flicking to the clock on your nightstand.

It’s 11 pm. Would he even answer? What would you say if he did?

You roll your eyes at yourself, suddenly embarrassed at how stupid you’re being. The covers are chilly as you slip into them, but thankfully, they warm up quickly. You fall into a pleasant sleep, and even though you had sworn you wouldn’t dream about it, you still do.

+++

You wake up to your phone notifying you of a message, but you ignore it for a few minutes, trying to force yourself back to sleep. It’s five minutes later that you realize it’s not happening, so you reach a hand over for your phone.

Lucy 10:23 am

What are you up to tonight?

A smile finds your lips. She’s always had an uncanny way of knowing when you needed her, and some girl time was exactly what the doctor ordered, you think.

Absolutely nothing. Wanna hang? you reply. You crawl out of bed and allow yourself some time to stretch your muscles before you head for the bathroom. You’re brushing your teeth when you hear a new message come in.

Lucy 10:41 am

For sure

Movie at Josh’s. Pick you up around 5.

Your heart jumps.

“Fuck,” you rasp, but your mouth is still full of toothpaste, and now your mirror is dotted with white speckles. You finish brushing frantically before texting back.

Maybe just a girl night?

Because your life is currently such a mess, you’re not at all surprised that Lucy takes nearly half an hour to respond.

You lunge for the phone the second you hear the notification sound, nearly dropping the Poptart that you’ve just finished toasting.

Lucy 11:10 am

Don’t be silly, I already got the movie

You have no idea how that prevents you from just watching it alone with her, but you don’t want to make her suspicious, so you don’t press any further.

The rest of your day is spent acting like a middle schooler. You are not ready to see Jake Kiszka again. What if he says something to you in front of Lucy? Explaining it to her would be a nightmare. What if he was just drunk and doesn’t actually have any interest at all?

You’re not positive you’ll see him, so you try to convince yourself that you probably won’t. It decidedly does not work.

You pointedly try not to think about what you’re going to wear, but despite yourself, you already have an outfit picked out by the time 4 pm rolls around. You try to reason with yourself as you eye your makeup bag.

“It’s a movie,” you remind yourself into the mirror. “We are just watching a movie in the dark and you are not putting on makeup.”

You try to be firm, but you’re weak and you end up glaring at your reflection as you apply mascara.

Lucy is late when she arrives to get you, but it doesn’t matter, because you still feel like you haven’t had enough time to worry about everything thoroughly. Feeling unprepared, you climb into her car.

You try to calm yourself by listening to everything Lucy is going on about as she tells you about her week. You know that she can tell that you’re nervous because she starts talking about her cat - a subject that always makes you feel better.

She’s so used to being at the Kiszka house that when you get there, she doesn’t bother knocking. She just lets herself in and hangs her coat and scarf on a hook by the door.

“Babe,” she calls out into the house, and Josh emerges from the kitchen and sweeps her into an embrace. You try not to listen to their loved up talk, you don’t feel like you have the stomach for it with the state you’re in.

Josh greets you with a polite hug. You smile back genuinely until you realize that you have no idea if Jake told him anything, and suddenly you have a whole new nightmare to explore in your head. You try to talk yourself through it as you follow them through the hall to the living room.

He didn’t give you the shit-eating grin that you would expect to receive if he did know something. You’re also pretty sure that he would tell Lucy, and Lucy would absolutely ask you about it. You breathe a relieved sigh as you settle in on the couch.

Sam is sitting the wrong way in a reclining chair, his long legs hanging off one of the arms. He looks so gangly that you can’t help but laugh at him and he gives you a cheesy smile back.

Since the recliner is taken, you get cozy with Lucy sandwiched between you and Josh, and a fuzzy blanket across all your laps. You want to ask if Jake is going to be joining you guys, but you chicken out. What if Josh does know about what happened at the party, and by some miracle, he just didn’t tell Lucy? You don’t want to seem like you’re thinking about Jake - even though you absolutely are - so you just stay silent.

You try to get into the movie. You and Lucy both love anything in the horror genre, but you’d already seen this one in theaters with her, and you try not to be annoyed that she’d pick a movie you’ve both already seen, presumably just so Josh could see it as well.

It’s considerably less scary the second time around, so about halfway through, you find yourself bored. You excuse yourself to use the restroom, mostly just so you can stretch your legs, as the couch isn’t that big and fitting three people on it is a squeeze. Lucy asks if you want them to pause the movie, but you wave her off, telling her you’ll be right back.

You head up the stairs and down the hallway, and you’re just about to turn the corner to the bathroom when the breath gets knocked out of you with a thump. It doesn’t hurt, but a shocked noise escapes your lips before you can stop it. A pair of hands find your hips instantly to help steady you. It takes you a second to realize that you’ve just slammed into Jake - face first - but as soon as you do, you hold your breath. You must have a horrified look on your face because he breathes a laugh.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry,” you squeak. “What are you doing here?”

Deliberately slow - like he’s trying to make sure you’ve got your balance back - he pulls his hands away. Through a disbelieving grin, he says, “Well, I live here. It’s more like ‘what are you doing here?’.”

You can feel your face turning pink. “Right. Lucy and I are here for a movie,” you explain. You haven’t made an effort to step back away from him, and you can’t bring yourself to yet. His hair is wet and slicked back, and you’re annoyed it looks so good on him - you always look like a drowned cat when you get out of the shower.

He hums in understanding but doesn’t say anything else. He just raises his eyebrows at you expectantly.

Just above a whisper, you chance, “Are we going to talk about it?”

He feigns consideration.

“We could,” he says with a nod, his lips stretching out into a mischievous smirk. “Or we could pick up where we left off.”

You subtly pull the sleeves on your sweater down to your wrists in an effort to hide the goosebumps that are rising on your skin. You open your mouth, but you’re truly at a loss for words. You had a full week to think about this, but you realize you never got around to allowing yourself to figure out what you’d say to him. He gives you an ample amount of time to think of a response, but the only thing you can do is stare at his lips.

“What’s the matter?” he asks, his voice is like silk. It’s quiet, but commanding. A tone you’d use if you had someone's wrists cuffed to your headboard. “Where did all that confidence go?”

He didn’t have as much control the last time you were this close to him, but he definitely does now, and you can tell that this is exactly how he’s comfortable.

“Pretty sure my liver cleared it all out Saturday morning,” you reply, swallowing hard. The words had come out softer than you’d intended. He’s smug as he seems to give you a once over, and your chest tightens under his gaze.

“That’s a shame.”

You can smell his shampoo as he brushes past you - something minty and pleasant. The sharpness of it helps ground you a little, but as soon as he disappears down the stairs, you slip into the bathroom and slump against the closed door. The whole exchange only lasted a couple of minutes, but you’re left feeling exhausted. You consider staying in the bathroom forever - maybe setting up a nice nest of towels so you never have to see anyone for the rest of your life, but then you remember that you have your favorite kind of yogurt in your fridge at home, so you’ll have to come out eventually. Instead, you just stand in front of the sink and splash cold water against your face as you try to collect your thoughts.

You don’t see him the rest of the evening, and for that, you’re simultaneously grateful and annoyed. Multiple times you think about marching back up to his room, but that's as far as you get. You still have no idea what you’d say or do once you got up there.

Lucy takes you home after the movie, and she offers to stay the night, but you tell her you’re wiped and that you’re headed right to bed. You go to get out of her car, but she places her hand on yours where it’s rested on the center console.

“Hey, so Josh and I were talking,” she starts, and your stomach tightens. You’re suddenly positive that she’s about to tell you that she knows everything, so you hold your breath.

“About birthday plans. So he was thinking that since I’m going to be leaving in a week, he’s going to throw me a party at his house next Saturday,” she finishes excitedly. You smile at her, trying not to look scared.

Lucy’s birthday is in early November, and every single year since you met, you’ve spent it together. This year, however, her parents surprised her with a trip abroad. You had been planning on having a nice dinner together just before she left, but you suppose that it is more efficient to just have a party with everyone.

“That’s great,” you agree, squeezing her hand.

“I’m so excited, I’m just hoping you can help us plan it all?” She gives you her best puppy eyes. “Since I’m going to be so busy packing and making sure I have everything together.”

You take a deep breath and nod in agreement. “Of course. You can count on me, Lu.”

She beams at you and leans in to give you a cramped car hug.

When you’re back in your room, you shoot Josh a message asking what he’d like you to be in charge of. Your body feels tight, so you head to the bathroom and draw yourself a bath, setting the water as hot as it will go.

Josh K 9:38 pm

thinking probably cake

You frown at your phone and shoot back, just cake?

Josh K 9:41 pm

yah

You set your phone down on the tile by the bathtub and roll your eyes. “Idiot,” you say out loud through a smile. You undress and sink into the water slowly, and it’s so hot that it turns your skin pink, but the slight pain is grounding. A message notification sounds from beside you, so you extend a wet hand to grab it.

Josh K 9:48 pm

Lucy wants to do decorations herself n sam threatened suicide if he cant dj

You huff a laugh. What are you getting her for a present?, you send back.

Josh K 9:51 pm

secret :)

Josh K 9:52 pm

maybe just birthday sex

You leave it at that, grateful that Lucy has someone so loving in her life. You think she deserves it, even if it does gross you out now and again.

You spend the rest of your time in the bath willing yourself to relax and trying to figure out why the last three words Jake said to you upset you more than the entirety of your last interaction with Mitch.

PART THREE

Taglist: @myownparadise96 (message me to add yourself if you want!)

#jake fic #learn to leave a room #writing #fic #gvf fic

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rainythefox · 4 years

Text

Nightfall (Ch.13)

Synopsis: Pre-Resident Evil 1, slight-AU/Canon Divergence. Claire Redfield comes home to visit her brother Chris for the holidays but gets caught up in a dangerous game of cat and mouse with Albert Wesker, the Captain of STARS, after stumbling upon dark secrets. She can’t call the law; Wesker is the law, and she can’t tell Chris. She is trapped…Claire/Wesker & Slight Chris/Jill. Rated M for eventual smut, language, violence, adult content.

AO3 Link

Chapter 13: I Know You

(Warning: This chapter contains Smut!)

Claire realized she had stared down the barrel of a gun more times in this past week than she did in her entire life. She didn't really appreciate that and gave Lowery an insulted glare as he came a bit closer. Despite her perilous situation, her Redfield temper got the best of her.

"You always point a gun at students? Not exactly welcoming."

"Not typically," Lowery answered warily. "But then again, you aren't a RCU student, are you? And it never was your intention tonight, was it?"

It seemed as though William's brush off of this paranoid, quiet professor of little relevance was poorly advised. What Claire had forgotten was that William was in a position where everyone was inferior and of no threat to him, not only because of his infamy and prowess, but apparently from who he also had as a guard dog.

Either way, Claire now had a serious problem on her hands. And Wesker wasn't on the other side for help.

"I have no idea what the hell you're talking about," Claire replied coolly.

"Really? So, you don't have my missing file from the lab? The one my business partner said you dropped right in front of him?" Lowery inquired skeptically. "It's a good thing he showed up, otherwise I don't think I would've been able to catch up with you."

Claire kept calm, her eyes flicking back and forth from his steely face to the gun trained at her chest. All she had on her was her knife. She couldn't slip up now, otherwise she would be arriving back home in a body bag. "You must have me mistaken for someone else."

"Oh, it's you. I was tipped off that someone would try to steal our plans tonight. I had no idea it would be someone like you though. Hand them over or I will shoot you."

"Are you crazy? Shooting someone over some documents?"

He stepped closer, getting impatient. "I have no problem killing for them."

Claire couldn't hand it over. She had to protect Chris. The file was a requirement needed for her freedom. Besides, she was more afraid of Wesker than she was of this incompetent prick.

The file was hidden in her coat under her arm. Claire slightly raised her hands, even away from the knife in her pocket, mind plotting. "Come search me yourself. I don't have it!"

Lowery closed the short distance between them, guarded but also anxious to get this over with. As soon as he got close enough, Claire snatched the arm with the gun and pushed it away from her, kicking him hard in the groin and then slamming him into the bus behind her. He yelped in surprise, but in her attempt to disarm him, he recovered faster than she thought he would. He shoved her, attempting to grab her and they both slipped in the snow and tumbled to the ground. The file flew from the safety of her parka, landing in the snow just beside them.

The middle-aged professor pinned Claire face down, icy snow burning her face as she inhaled some up her nose.

"You stupid bitch, who sent you? Who're you working for?!"

Claire was able to pull out her knife. She blindly stabbed it up and behind her. The blade went deep in somewhere, his thigh, she guessed. He screamed in pain, rolling off and Claire sprang to freedom. Her initial instinct was to stomp his face in, but that gun came up to her face as he bled in the snow. Time seemed to slow as he pulled the trigger. She was done for.

Lowery's hand popped like a balloon, barely within the blink of an eye, bright and red. He cried out in shock and agony again, the gun flinging from his hand, blood spraying across the snow like spilled paint. Claire immediately snatched up the weapon and aimed it right back at him, not really understanding what had happened but not taking any chances. That's when she noticed the sleek, short dagger sticking out from his hand, the tip of the blade having gone completely through his palm.

Before it could completely register, a tall, muscular form stepped out of the shadows from between the buses and stalked over to the injured professor. Claire directed the gun at the stranger, but soon recognized the silver-haired man that Wesker had talked to beneath the streets of Raccoon City. Nikolai Zinoviev.

Despite the situation, the Russian mercenary had a playful grin on his scruffy face. "Looks like you picked fight with wrong girl, comrade! She's a feisty one, eh?"

Lowery hissed and groaned between gnashed teeth, glaring up at the snickering newcomer. "Nikolai? What the hell? You tipped Aaron and me off about her, why are you doing this?"

"Oh, sorry, friend. Our agreement expired because my new employer bought out yours and doubled price for his own. How is it you Americans say? Ah, right…money talks."

His hands may have been up in submission, but there was no mistaking the spite on Lowery's face. "I'll double his price…right now. Just give me my file and give me the girl."

"Just try it," Claire warned, pointing Lowery's own gun at him.

Nikolai chuckled. "She's just not that into you, comrade. Besides, she is under strict protection of my employer. If she gets just a scratch, it's my head. You understand, yes?"

Holding his bleeding hand, the college professor's defiant stare cracked, replaced with fear. "You gonna kill me?"

The younger Redfield did not like the sleazy grin on the silver-haired Russian's face. She refused to give Lowery what he wanted, but she didn't think he deserved to die. However, she got a more concerning feeling in her gut by Nikolai's smug look and shallow shrug. "Welllllll, that's where it gets interesting. I was supposed to kill anyone that got wind of our scheme here. But that little detail on agreement was outbid by his partner, without my employer's knowledge, of course! He wishes to speak with you, Dr. Lowery. You have time to chat, hmm friend?"

"W-Who?"

"You will know when we get there. Stay positive! Perhaps you two can make deal. Then we can put whole thing behind us!"

Nikolai stepped over to Lowery, holding out his hand, offering to help the wounded man to his feet. There was an underlying threat to his tone that Lowery had no choice but to come along. Claire felt his powerlessness as he glanced around, apprehensive. He raised his uninjured hand to take Nikolai's, but in the blink of an eye, the mercenary grabbed the professor and knocked him out cold.

"What the hell?!" Claire spat.

Nikolai pulled the knife from Lowery's hand and bandaged him up. He wiped the knife on his pants and inserted it into a cylindrical tube. It clicked in Claire's mind that the knife had been shot out of that when it struck Lowery. A ballistic knife. The Russian mercenary pocketed his weapon and started dragging the younger man through the snow. Claire watched, aghast, and then stomped after him.

"What do you think you're doing?!"

"The white SUV just over there," Nikolai nodded with his head. "That is our ride."

"You are my ride?"

"Ms. Wong received new orders. So now you and I get to spend some quality time together, printsessa."

She knew well enough that whatever he had called her was some kind of pet name and that rolled off her skin like cold sludge. "Fuck that. I'll walk."

He wasn't fazed by her attitude, in fact, she was sure he was fed by it. That same sleazy grin appeared as he seemed to drag the man with little effort, way stronger than he looked. "In this weather? You catch cold easily. Besides, it is my responsibility to return you to Wesker."

"Sounds like a personal problem."

Nikolai snorted as he loaded the unconscious professor into the backseat of the vehicle . "Does it? You know what else is personal? Your brother, Chris, yeah?"

Claire froze, having only taken three defiant steps away from this situation once Nikolai reached the SUV. She turned around, glaring. She aimed Lowery's gun at him, angry, protective, cornered.

"What do you know about my brother?"

He raised his hands in mock surrender, the same wily grin still in place, careful steps moving towards her and away from the SUV where Lowery was now locked away. "Oh, little of everything, I suppose. Address, schedule, hobbies..."

There was an underlying threat there. Her gut clenched, rolled like a dying animal. And all Claire could come to understand was that this dangerous mercenary knew this information with the sole purpose of killing her big brother.

In a split second the scarred mercenary disarmed her, flipping the gun around on her. Claire froze, breath hitching, and Nikolai playfully chortled.

"Ohhhh, too slow, little Claire!"

He was a complete blur, she could barely register what just happened. This man was dangerous. Very dangerous.

She kept his gaze with the dirtiest look she could muster, hiding her worry, exposing her anger. After all, if Nikolai spoke the truth about Wesker having her under his protection, what was there to fear? Especially of him?

"You're going to kill my brother?" Claire hissed.

"Only if you do not do as you're told. It's simply collateral, printsessa."

"Wesker fucking hired you to do this?"

Nikolai chuckled. "You're surprised? Comrade Wesker doesn't get his hands dirty unless he has to. Why would he when he has pawns or even paid professionals like myself?"

Claire wasn't surprised. But she was still livid. Feeding off of her anger, Nikolai continued to spite her.

"Don't worry, I'm only having little fun." He slipped the gun inside his coat and opened the front passenger door of the SUV for her. "Come along, printsessa. I take you back to where you belong. It is in my best interest that I return you in perfect condition."

Offended, she snapped, "I belong at home with my brother!"

Nikolai half-shrugged. God, she wanted to shoot that smug grin off his face. "That is not what comrade Wesker thinks."

"I don't give a damn what he thinks!"

The younger Redfield didn't have much of a choice. If she didn't go with Nikolai, he would kill her brother under orders from Wesker. But going with him also meant going into the open arms of the enemy.

Biting her tongue, fists clenched, she got inside the vehicle and her pompous companion closed the door and went around and got in the driver's seat. Claire looked back at the unconscious Lowery. Nikolai had tied his arms to the backseat in case he woke up.

"You are in interesting position," Nikolai stated after driving for a bit. "Both blessing and curse to have Wesker's protection. But even more interesting is how obsessed he seems with you."

"I'm just trying to get back to my normal life, whatever it takes."

Nikolai's hollow laugh filled the cab. "He's not going to let you go...not by what I saw."

Claire didn't say anything, both mad and upset that he was probably right. She stared out the window. Raccoon City life went on, even after dark. Busy, bustling, oblivious, day and night.

"He had girl like you awhile back...five, six years ago. Pretty little thing, not much older than you, red hair too. Emigrated here working for Umbrella, eastern Europe, I think."

"What happened to her?" Claire asked, suddenly interested.

Nikolai shrugged apathetically. "No one knows for sure. Most rumors revolve around her fleeing for some reason. Going into hiding. Personally, I think Wesker just got bored of her and ran her off. I guess we'll never really know."

Claire grew quiet, although more questions burned within her about this mysterious woman. Maybe it was best to leave well enough alone; but it did make her more curious about Wesker and the seemingly endless secrets he had. Just a while ago, she would have thought it impossible that Wesker would care about anyone but himself.

Her inner pondering got her the mercenary's sarcastic quip in return. "Oh, don't worry, Claire! She's long gone. Wesker has his eyes on you and you alone. He's all yours! Ahh, you don't know how many females would kill to be in your place right now."

Nikolai's creepy chortle unsettled her. She focused on the passing scenery outside her window. But perhaps it wasn't the mercenary's vile laugh that really unsettled her, but the way her pulse rocketed in tune with an excited warmth in her groin...

Claire began to wonder how they would get the unconscious Lowery out of the car and down into NEST when Nikolai parked the SUV in the alleyway behind an Umbrella pharmacy. Her inner questions were soon answered when a few men in black mercenary suits came outside. Nikolai barked orders at them in Russian as they yanked the professor out without an ounce of sympathy.

She had a real bad feeling when Nikolai motioned her to follow them. The pharmacy was closed, dark, but they went into the back where a security door was. A pharmacist was there waiting, dressed in her appropriate attire and swiped a keycard to allow them entry. She didn't look like she was being coerced or intimidated. In fact, she looked more annoyed than anything, as though letting these thugs through her business put a huge damper on her beauty sleep.

By the time they took a large elevator down into the sewers, Lowery started coming to. But the two hefty men carrying him under the arm pits would have no problem keeping him under control. They followed along the marked passageways that would take them to NEST.

"Oh God, no! Please, no!" Lowery cried, recognizing their surroundings. He fought with the men who carried him, pleaded even. "Just kill me now! Don't hand me over to that devil!"

But his cries went ignored. Claire felt bad for the man, even after he had tried to kill her. She didn't blame him for his futile fighting and begging. Wesker would surely condemn this man to a horrible death and write it off as some sort of accident, never to be questioned.

Even as they trekked through the clean, bright hallways of NEST, Lowery's cries for help and mercy went unanswered. Some Umbrella workers simply turned a blind eye while others paused to enjoy watching the man's misfortune.

They stopped at an intersection of hallways. Although Lowery had exhausted himself struggling with his captors, he still quietly sobbed for his life. He stared puffy-eyed at Claire and it hurt her to the bone. She was responsible for his fate. If only he hadn't followed her. If only he had let her go.

"You don't know who you're working for," he said to her. "He's a monster! The absolute worst!'

"I'm so sorry. I didn't want any of this to happen," Claire replied, feeling guilty. She wasn't sure he would believe her. "Wesker blackmailed me. I'm just trying to protect my brother."

Lowery's face scrunched up, and strangely he laughed. A snorty, "fuck-it-all" laugh that was more creepy than anything. "I wasn't talking about Wesker."

The college student was caught off guard, just assuming the professor was talking about her own captor. But it didn't take her long to realize who he was really talking about.

"Consider yourself lucky." His last words were muttered, bitter.

Nikolai nodded to his men, and they started dragging him off down one long, blindingly white hallway. Lowery had given up fighting, his eyes haunted, searing into hers as he was hauled off, probably never to be seen again.

"Come along, printsessa. Wesker awaits your return."

Claire hesitated, perturbed, telling herself that Lowery was a bad man and deserved what he got, and that she had to do what she did to save Chris. She joined Nikolai as they took a different route, her steps without as much pep as his, thinking.

"Ah, cheer up, Claire! You looked out for most important person. Yourself! This saves precious brother in end!"

She would've been insulted by his words if she hadn't been so damn confused on why Lowery was more afraid of William than he was of Wesker.

"What is William going to do to that man? Why was he more afraid of him than Wesker?"

Nikolai half-glanced at her, the corners of his lips tugging upward. "They're two different monsters, printsessa. There are fates worse than death if you haven't figured that out already."

Annette had said those very same words to her before. And although she had understood the concept, fearing that her blackmailing and enslavement to Wesker would go on forever, there was something about the way that Nikolai had said it that disturbed her on a deeper level.

"Who do you think has more empathy?"

Claire looked at him, confused. "William. Obviously."

Nikolai chuckled. "Then you do not know Birkin very well!" When she stayed quiet, he continued. "Wesker has more empathy, even if it's indirect most of time."

Claire scoffed at that. "Yeah, right."

"It's true! Take Dr. Lowery for example. Comrade Wesker would've just saved us all the trouble and put a bullet between his eyes. But Birkin has to have something more...exciting. Lowery would've preferred that bullet. Therefore, in such instance, Wesker has more empathy. And, well, there's you, isn't there? Most people would've died in your situation, but Wesker spared you...even if it was for nefarious motives. And the fact that he has given you his protection is quite telling!"

"What is William going to do?"

Nikolai shrugged. "Not for me to say. Unless, of course, you wish to purchase such secrets from me."

She glared at the greedy son of a bitch. "Not in your life."

Again, the Russian mercenary was amused and not at all insulted. "As you wish. But here is free advice, printsessa. Take it or leave it. The thing about Wesker and Birkin is that they do not have the capacity to care for anyone outside of their private circle. Wesker only cares for Birkin and his unbearingly cute daughter - besides himself, of course. And that care doesn't even extend to his own best friend's wife. But...there are some pretty convincing rumors that he cared about the last redhead that came before you. Birkin rarely cares for anyone outside his family and Wesker. Though from what I heard he's fond of you for some reason!"

Claire rolled her eyes, but unfortunately, he wasn't finished.

"Mark my words, printsessa. If one falls, the other will. Especially Birkin. Wesker will probably recover, perhaps be driven more by his hatred without Birkin to keep it at bay. But Birkin...he'll absolutely lose it. I give him two weeks before he's falling apart, showing the monster he really is, and I wouldn't doubt he'll eat his own family alive if that happens."

"You make it sound like that's going to happen soon."

"Nah...just eventually. Everybody makes mistakes, even comrade Wesker. One day they may have to reap what they have sown. And if comrade Sergei gets his wish, we will see these two partners in crime turn on each other like dogs when push comes to shove, common goals be damned. Ultimately, they're only out for themselves. Their symbiosis will come to an end one day, that's inevitable."

A large laboratory-like room came upon their left, long windows allowing Claire and Nikolai to peer inside as they made their way to the automatic door further down. Claire noticed right away that the Birkins were bickering over something near a large computer screen. Wesker was on the opposite side of the room on the phone, fingers on his other ear as if to tune his coworkers out. He was facing the window and so noticed them right away. Claire could tell by how his naked eyes caught them and he smirked.

But a surprise addition she wasn't expecting was Sherry. The little girl held up a piece of paper, trying to get her parents' attention. She went unnoticed…

When the automatic door slid open to let Claire and Nikolai into the room, Sherry was the only Birkin to notice. She looked over her shoulder with startled eyes. She barely looked at them, Claire didn't even have time to wave at her, before she spun and raced across the room. And just like the younger Redfield saw before, the child took refuge behind the monster that had Claire by a tight leash.

The first thing Claire thought was that it was sad that a young girl felt she had to retreat across a large room to take cover behind her godfather when she had been right beside her parents…Worst yet, her parents continued on, unaffected that their child ditched them to hide behind someone else and barely noticed the arrival of company.

Wesker held up a finger to tell them he would be with them momentarily. Sherry peeked her head out from behind him and instantly brightened when she recognized Claire. She came out of her "safe zone" and over to Claire, careful to avoid getting near Nikolai or looking at him.

"Hi, Claire!"

Claire greeted her with a bright, positive smile. "Hello, Sherry!"

The young girl barely allowed her to finish before hugging her tightly around the waist. Taken aback at first, the college student returned the hug and rubbed Sherry's head.

"You look so cute today! I love that outfit."

Sherry grinned. "Thanks. Look what I drew!" And held up the same paper she had presented to her parents.

Claire was expecting a random doodle kids Sherry's age often produced, with their colorful imagination. She gasped at what she was shown. It was really good. Like really good. Probably better than Claire could ever draw. It was a cat dozing on a tree limb, all sketched in pencil and shaded.

"Wow, Sherry! This is really good!"

"You think?" Birkin's little girl wondered with a blush, nervously rocking back and forth on her heels.

"Seriously, I need to take some pointers from you. Did you have a picture to look at or something?"

Sherry shook her head. "No, just saw a cat doing that on my way to school this morning and drew it from memory."

This girl had a photogenic memory apparently. That didn't surprise Claire, the young girl already acted like she was quite intelligent for her age. She looked and acted like her father a lot, and must have gotten both of her parents' gifted smarts.

"That's incredible, Sherry. I love it."

Sherry blushed even deeper, but didn't have time to say anything before Nikolai butted in shamelessly, bending down, hands on his knees to get to her level, his toothy grin making the young girl nervous.

"Ah, aren't you a clever and talented little devushka! Taking right after mama and papa! Such a bright future ahead of you!"

Claire glared at the asshole and was about to give him a piece of her mind, protecting Sherry, when a dark, tall figure stepped directly in between Nikolai and Sherry. Sherry instantly looked relieved, and clinged to her familiar wall. Nikolai slowly stood up straight, unfazed by the glare that would have incinerated most men.

Wesker didn't even have to say anything. Nikolai put up his hands in fake submission, and Claire was sure this man wasn't afraid of anything since he didn't even bat an eye to the scariest person in the room.

"Oh, forgive me, comrade. I have overstepped boundaries. I meant no harm."

"Yes, you did, you fucking asshole," Claire snapped.

Nikolai chuckled, but kept his attention on his employer. "Your lyubovnik is bold. I can see why you like her so much, comrade. Should've seen how she handled 'ol Lowery when he attacked her."

The Birkins had stopped bickering and came over to get in on the conversation at hand. And even with them being nearby, Sherry remained behind her "uncle".

Wesker's lip barely curled at Nikolai's gibe. "And where is Dr. Lowery now? Was he...taken care of?"

Claire was sure he said that in such a way just for the sake of Sherry, and that surprised her.

"Forgive me, but your...request was outbid by best friend."

Wesker glared William's way, but the eccentric researcher just fist pumped like an excited kid. "Yes!"

Nikolai chuckled. "After all, no one knows the value of human life quite like Dr. Birkin."

"Of course they don't! I mean I am a doctor, after all!" William snorted and ruffled Sherry's hair, getting her to giggle. "Relax, Al! I'll take good care of our guest! Thanks, Nikky!"

"I'm sure you will," Wesker stated as William left the laboratory, on a mission. Under William's delighted smile and hums as he left, Claire fleetingly noticed tiny traces of something dark, something ruthless. And she understood Lowery would never be seen again.

Wesker turned to Nikolai and Annette after his partner had gone. "Nikolai, I'll escort you out. We have much to discuss. Anne, dear, please keep Miss Redfield comfortable until I return."

Annette sighed. "What am I now, your babysitter? Come on, Albert...I have enough to do as it is, I'm behind schedule even without having to take care of your…," She gave Claire an unreadable glance, "...guest."

Sherry's mother turned and went back to her project at one corner of the room, where she and William had been bickering earlier, busying herself with whatever was displayed on the computer's monitor. Claire glared at her back. This woman was something else! When first meeting with Claire she seemed curious, albeit a little skeptical, and gave Claire advice on Wesker. Now this. Then again, Annette was always absorbed in her work to barely be concerned with her own child.

"Come along, comrade," Wesker mocked, motioning for the Russian mercenary to follow him.

But before he left, Nikolai had one last piece of advice to give Claire. "Remember printsessa...If you are going to dwell among wolves...you should howl like one."

He winked at her and left with that eerie grin on his face. Once it was just Claire, Sherry, and Annette, the tension in the room nearly dissipated completely. Sherry snatched Claire's hand and tried dragging her away from the exit.

"I don't see that man too often, but he's scary. C'mon, let's go sit in the break room, I have more drawings to show you!"

The college student hesitated at first, still confused over Nikolai's final advice. She shook it from her thoughts and allowed the young girl to guide her past her mother and into the little break room attached to the laboratory.

"Momma, me and Claire are gonna go draw in the break room, you should join us!"

"That's nice, sweetie," Annette mumbled while looking into a microscope.

Claire tightened the grip around Sherry's hand and stopped, glaring at Annette, but Sherry tugged on her. "It's okay, she's busy. Come on!"

It took all of her willpower to bite her tongue, only doing so because of Sherry. They went to the table and sat down. Sherry showed off her drawings in a sketchbook that was falling apart. Nearly all the pages were filled with her artwork, many loose and sticking out all over the place. The girl exuberantly showed off her illustrations. Claire was just as excited to see them all, and found joy that the young Birkin was out of her shell now.

"They're all so good. Sherry, you should become a professional artist when you grow up!"

Sherry beamed. "Really? Daddy says I'm gonna be a doctor like him some day. I want to do both. I want to help people like they do."

Claire smiled, hiding the worry from such a statement. "You are so smart and talented, you can do whatever you want to. I know it."

"Thank you, Claire!" The girl blushed with a sweet smile. Claire couldn't believe such a cute, sweet little girl could come from such horrible parents that let a psychopath raise her half the time. "I wish my parents showed as much interest in me as you. I mean, they do, just...I don't know. Sometimes they're just so absorbed in their work, that's all they know." Sherry frowned. "...or care about."

"Well, they aren't focusing on what's important then. I hope one day that they do."

Sherry nervously played with the crinkled corner of one of her artworks. "What are your parents like, Claire?"

The pain that ripped through her heart wasn't expected. Claire took a deep breath and smiled at the girl. "Well, I lost them when I was around your age. But...I remember my mom being...fearless. She wasn't afraid of anything, it seemed. She loved motorcycles. I got my love of motorcycles from her. My dad...he was patient and so much fun. He played guitar. He was teaching me before…"

Sherry was quiet for a long moment, and she grabbed Claire's hand and squeezed. "What...happened to them?"

"Car accident. It's weird...they were both special forces in the Air Force. Seemed invincible to me as a kid. And they were gone in a split second...just like that."

"Oh no! That's terrible! Were you all alone?"

"No...no. I have an older brother. He's a cop...he works with Wesker. He raised me with the help from some old family friends. We lost everything from our old home though."

"What, why? So you don't have anything from your parents?"

"My uncle...distant uncle, my mom's brother. He lives in Stone Ville. He got the house and all the belongings because my brother wasn't an adult at the time. And he never liked our father or us very much. So he took it away from us. Blamed our father for the accident."

Sherry's hands clamped over her mouth and nose in an instant, shocked by the heartlessness of Claire's uncle. "That's awful!" she mumbled from behind dainty fingers.

Claire half-shrugged, swallowing the resentment she still had for that family member. "Chris and I have come to terms with it. Most of it meant nothing to us anyway. He sold the house and most of the stuff a long time ago, but he keeps a few important things in storage. Some things we hope to get one day."

Sherry bit her lip. "Like what?"

"Pictures, mostly. My dad's guitar. My brother really wants their military medals. Me...there's just one picture I really want. It's my parents on my mom's red motorcycle, dressed in their military attire, before they had us. I remember adoring it as a kid. They looked like superheroes to me. But…"

"But what?"

Claire swallowed, ignoring the burn in her eyes. "I'm afraid I'm gonna forget what they look like one day. That picture gets more and more fuzzy as the years go by."

Sherry gasped and looked horrified, sad for her, staring up at her with big blue eyes. Claire cleared her throat, putting on a big smile. She got so caught up in her reminiscing that she made the girl just as sad she was. "Sorry. Hey, don't worry about it! It will all work out in the end. I know it!"

Sherry leaned in and hugged her close. "I hope so! Or else we can send Nikolai to scare him," the blond girl joked slyly, face crushed against her.

That tickled a snorted laugh out of the young Redfield. "Yeah, he better not tempt me! One more thing though...could you keep this between us?"

The last thing she needed was something else for Wesker to have over her head.

She pulled back with a small smile. "I promise! I sure would like to meet your brother one day. He must be strong and brave if he works with Uncle Albert!"

Claire wished she could understand the closeness she felt to this little girl after knowing her for such a short period. Maybe a little sister she never had, or a daughter perhaps that Claire would want one day.

"He is. He's the best."

Light knocking startled them both, and Claire's heart spun when she saw Wesker in the doorway of the breakroom. There was no door separating the rooms, and so she could only hope he hadn't been there long and overheard their conversation.

"Hi, Uncle Albert! Claire just told me that her brother works with you!"

The STARS Captain moved inside, a small smirk forming. He no longer sported the lab coat from earlier, but was still dressed exquisitely. "Yes, he does. He's one of my best men, actually."

"Oh, neat, are you guys friends?!"

"Best of friends," Wesker chuckled, although his ambiguous tone and smile was directed towards Claire.

"Even more than Daddy?" Sherry gasped.

Wesker's smile towards Sherry was a lot less menacing and he held out his arm. "Of course not, darling."

Sherry took his arm and squeaked in delight as he picked her up effortlessly out of the chair and let her dangle for a moment like a doll before setting her down on her feet.

"I see you were providing Claire with some pleasant company. Thank you, Sherry."

Wesker offered his hand with a sly smile, but Claire refused it. She stood up on her own with a defiant look that only made her captor's smirk grow.

"Of course, Uncle Albert! I just love having Claire come by to visit. Can't you bring her around more often? Please, pretty please?!"

"I'm sure we could work on that."

"Yay!" Sherry exclaimed, hugging Claire real quick before going over to the table to gather up her art supplies and sketchbook.

"Are you ready, dear heart?"

Claire hated that he said that pet name right in front of Sherry. As if she needed any more reasons to fantasize about them hooking up. "Ready for what?"

"We're leaving."

"W-Where?" she inwardly panicked.

"My personal quarters here in the facility. We have much to discuss."

Somewhere behind them, Sherry giggled into her hand and quickly hid her face behind her sketchbook to avoid being reprimanded for butting into their business. Wesker let it slide - for now.

Claire shook her head. "No, we can do that tomorrow. I have to get home to Chris. He'll be worried."

"He'll be fine," Wesker countered. "He's at the bar with friends, most notably Jill, which means he won't be home until late, or until nature takes its course between them. We wouldn't want to disrupt that now, would we?" He leered gleefully at her.

She glared at him, ignoring his comment about the possibility of any...lewd content...between her brother and Jill, even if she was very aware of the attraction between the two. But now was not the time nor place to be concerned over that.

"The sooner we get our "business" out of the way, the sooner you can go home."

It wasn't like she had a choice, no matter how much she fought him. Claire reluctantly agreed, for the sake of doing this quickly and getting it over with. But deep down, some strange, new instinct had awoken. She wasn't entirely sure what to make of it. She was certain going to Wesker's quarters with him alone would prove to be dangerous, bad, very bad. But this new instinct was okay with that, and it made her nerves tingle like she was high on drugs.

Wesker's private quarters within the NEST facility looked like a richy hotel room, only without a grand view of a beach or cityscape. The lights automatically kicked on when they entered. It was either hardly used or strictly kept up by a housekeeper. Immaculate. Expensive. There was a lounge area with leather sofas and a cherry wood table between them. The kitchen had expensive countertops and appliances, and even a bar. And from where she stood, Claire could see the open door that led into a large, dark bedroom.

"You should see William's quarters," Wesker stated after noticing her admiring the room. "It's nicer than his actual house. But he and Anne do practically live down here."

He took her parka from her and hung it up near the door. "Drink?" he offered, heading towards the bar. "I know I need one."

"Yeah," she mumbled, distracted, and then realized what she agreed to and glared at his back. "Only if I watch you pour it!"

"So suspicious," Wesker chuckled as he retrieved a couple of glasses and pulled out a bottle of wine from a fancy wine rack, checking the bottle over before pouring. "Trust me, if I do end up having to eliminate you, it will be a little more...exciting."

"Gee, thanks. That's totally increasing my trust in you."

He huffed a laugh and held out the glass full of a dark red liquid to her, clearly not fazed by her sarcastic comment in the least. Claire slowly took it from him and they sat down across from one another on the sofas. She gave in fast and took a sip. The redhead had been thirsty for quite a while. And a little peckish too, if she was being honest...espionage obviously made her hungry. You learn something new every day, she scoffed at herself silently. The wine was a rich merlot and it warmed her tongue and made her stomach fizzle.

"You do know you're contributing to a minor with this, right?"

"Well, I am an officer of the law. I'm quite aware of that."

"Are you sure you're an officer of the law?"

He shrugged, unimpressed, his steely grey eyes seemingly putting Claire more on edge than when he had his sunglasses on. "I have sundry jobs, if only you knew half of them. Then again, I would have to kill you if you did." Wesker smirked, unashamed.

Claire took a big gulp of her wine, either trying to settle her empty stomach or pacify her flurried nerves. "But mostly you're a corrupt cop by day and mad scientist by night. Got it."

His lips quirked in amusement. "You have me all figured out, apparently. And what about you, my dear?" There he went staking claim to her again. "Not so much a "good girl" yourself, hmm? The wine, for instance. If you're so offended by me serving you any, you could've just declined. I'm sure you're like any other college girl and drink plenty when big brother isn't watching."

Touché. She did go drinking and partying with her friends a lot. Without Chris knowing, of course.

"Yeah, so?" she challenged, and then balked, squeaking, "Please don't tell Chris!"

"Your secret is safe with me, dear heart."

Her heart did a weird flip that made her stomach feel warmer than the wine, and then she discerned it was time to get this meeting over with and get home as soon as possible.

"So, what is it you have to discuss with me, exactly? I'm sure it's too much to hope that you're finally setting me free?"

"It is. But do not fret yourself, my dear, you are making headway in our...agreement. I applaud you for your accomplishment tonight. No one else could have done it quite like you. I'm almost tempted to say...you're a natural."

"Thanks," Claire said dryly. "So, what about that doctor and other professor? What happens to them? Why hack into the hard drives of the university's research center?"

"Such questions are dangerous, Miss Redfield. You wish to get yourself deeper into this conspiracy? Best to leave it alone if you want to return to your normal life…"

She didn't say anything to that. He had a point, although it didn't make her feel any better about what kind of situation she had put these men in, whether they deserved it or not. Her being complicit in their (most probably) unpleasant fate somehow made her uneasy. Claire tried not to imagine what would await them now that their futures were at Wesker and Birkin's mercy...and would most likely be cut short.

"...unless you don't want to return to "normal"?" he smirked, a little too sanguine in his insinuation.

Claire avoided answering that, still upset over the fates of the two professors and the doctor. "Are those men bad like you?"

Wesker eyed her, sloshing around the little remains of wine in his glass. He stood, drinking the rest and then placing the glass on the table. He approached her, making her heart leap like a startled cat, and when he sat down beside her, she knew she was trapped.

"They make me look like a saint," he replied, placing his hand over his heart - or at least where it was supposed to be - in a gesture of mock sincerity. But she didn't believe him. "Trust me. They deserve whatever's coming to them."

"Yeah, right," she scoffed, and wanted to scoot away from him, but some kind of pull kept her frozen in place.

"Perhaps you should look in the mirror, dear heart. It's obvious by tonight's events that your "good girl" demeanor is merely a front to a more adventurous and daring version of yourself...the true Claire. The Claire your brother never sees or even suspects because he lives in his little bubble of self-righteousness. He would never guess that the real Claire hides from the world, afraid of judgement. His judgement. Afraid of being judged for who she really is and what she really wants. The Claire that I see when I look at you…"

He wasn't talking about her defiant and rebellious nature that everyone knew, and often associated as typical Redfield traits, but something darker. She immediately refuted it, glaring at him.

"I have no idea what you're talking about!" Although her defensive denial only made him smirk.

He's playing mind games with you. Ada and William warned you about this. Keep it together!

"I think you do," Wesker insisted. "I saw it the first time I laid eyes on you. You enjoyed being complicit tonight, the adrenaline rush, the danger, yes? The fact that you got away with it and, in a way, set up three cruel men to the fates they deserve. Satisfying, isn't it?"

His words hit too close to home. Claire could barely breathe, but stayed solid. Her heart pounded in her ear, she clenched her fingers on her thighs to where her knuckles turned white. Still, she glared at him, defying, but it was hard to keep his intense gaze.

"I didn't enjoy anything I did tonight. I did what I had to because you blackmailed me!"

Her instincts were all over the place. Some of them told her to get out of there. To move away from him, but the others told her to stay, to continue challenging him. But there was no winning either way. He was manipulating her and despite her best efforts it was working, but, in a way, she also knew he was telling the truth.

"Irrelevant," Wesker dismissed her protest. "You still went through with it. You can deny it all you want, but I see right through it. You take pleasure walking the line of morality. And lying to yourself is both pointless and a waste of time. I know you better than you think. I can read you like a book, Claire...although admittedly a riveting one."

She hated how pragmatic he was, but mostly abhorred how right he was.

Okay, so what if she did have a little fun tonight? So what if slinking around, danger at every corner, was a little thrilling to her? Was that so bad? It certainly contributed to her rebellious nature, but that didn't make her bad. That didn't make them alike, no matter what he seemed to think he knew of her.

Don't do it. Don't give him what he wants.

"Even if you were right...which you aren't," Claire retorted, and then inwardly facepalmed, because that wasn't blatantly obvious that she fell for his trap. "What exactly are you trying to get out of me?"

"Nothing much...except that I want you to stop fooling yourself. You might as well be on the same side as me. You, Claire, are a thrill seeker. You love the adrenaline of doing forbidden things, feeding off those thrills and any power or advantage you gain from them. Not all that different from me. Your excuses for not going after what you really want in life are threadbare at best…You have the potential to take whatever you want if you would just let go of your fruitless morals."

Her conscience came through in Wesker's spell of smoke and mirrors, and she shot to her feet. So fast, her head spun for a moment, the light burn of the wine she had drank sizzling in her gut.

"You know nothing about what I want. This conversation is over," Claire ordered. "We're done here."

Wesker sighed, pushing himself out of his seat, seemingly unaffected that she desperately tried to flee his influence. "If you insist. But you won't be able to run from the truth forever. Sooner or later, you'll see that I'm right."

Claire chewed on her lip, this strange mix of dread and excitement making her woozy. She wanted it to go away, but she had a feeling it was about to get a lot worse.

The STARS leader returned to her with her parka in hand, holding it as she slipped into it. He leaned in close as she got dressed, murmuring into her ear, "But I think you're wrong...I think I do have a pretty good idea of what you want, Claire...you're merely postponing the inevitable."

His hands held her shoulders as Claire stood there with her back to him, petrified at being called out. No, he's lying. He's setting you up, don't listen to him!

Okay, maybe he did have a pretty good reading on her, she finally had to admit to herself. But she wasn't about to admit it to him. No! Never!

The narcissistic asshole rubbed his hand down her spine, smoothing out the wrinkles of her parka. The electric spark that ignited every fiber of her body made Claire spin around and face him directly.

The younger Redfield was aware of what would happen if she wasn't careful. He had done exactly what she had been warned about, using her defiance and denial against her to seduce her. She felt so exposed to how easily he had read her, when she couldn't even admit it herself.

Wesker opened the door for her, but there was an underlying challenge there in his show of chivalry. "After you, dear heart."

Claire told herself there were two choices here. If she walked out that door, nothing would happen. She would be returned home to her brother. But maybe she would only be "postponing the inevitable", like he said…

But her own bravado wouldn't let her walk out that door. Wesker led her right into a standoff of power he knew she wouldn't back down to.

It was one thing to dwell among this vicious pack of wolves and howl with them like Nikolai had advised. It was another to mess around with the Alpha.

Her heart may have been beating on her ribs, but she wasn't about to give into him lying down. She had one last act of defiance up her sleeve that she hoped would wipe that smirk off his face, since her obvious hesitation told him he had her right where he wanted her.

How much worse can it get anyway? Fuck it!

The redhead pushed herself onto her tip toes and kissed him. She was so determined to spite him and gain some kind of control, she didn't care what kind of fire she had just started. And what did they say? If you play with fire, you're going to get burned.

When her brother's corrupt boss slammed that door shut after returning her reckless kiss, Claire knew she would get burned tonight. But if the smoldering in her chest and thighs were any indication, she wasn't at all concerned. Even her initial irritation at him for not being taken off guard by her initiation - had he been expecting this after all?! - was soon forgotten.

What Claire quickly learned was that he was a great kisser. The taste of the merlot was on their lips, fuel for their fervent kissing. Her hands squeezed his shirt, tugging him closer.

Just as she was cursing his height, one strong arm wrapped around her lower back and picked her up. Effortlessly. Like she was a pillow. She squeaked in surprise, having never been picked up like that before. Her legs, through no control of her own, instantly wrapped around his waist.

He walked somewhere, but Claire couldn't determine where while they smacked lips. She felt drunk, but she hadn't ingested that much wine. Eager to taste more of it on him, she pushed for entry into his mouth with her tongue.

Wesker did allow her entry for a few precious seconds before he dropped her on something soft. A quick glance as her fingers found their way under his shirt determined it was the back of one of the leather sofas, which allowed her to be closer to his height sitting down while he remained standing.

"For someone so determined to stay in denial, you sure are eager," Wesker teased.

"Shut up!"

His smirk infuriated her as he dipped lower to suck on her neck. Claire tried pushing him away but it was like trying to move a brick wall. "No marks where Chris can see!"

He seized her ponytail and tugged hard, and Claire figured he was about to reprimand her. She hissed, but soon her hair fell down all around her face. He kissed her throat, and although his hands explored, he kept her steady on the furniture.

He kissed her ear, and Claire was certain he would tell her that it wasn't his problem if he left marks on her.

"Don't worry, dear heart. It's our little secret." Wow. She was surprised he was being considerate of her wishes. Or maybe he just liked being clandestine. "No promises for next time though." Never mind.

"There won't be a next time," she claimed.

The STARS Captain didn't reply to that, although his lips quirked upward, blatantly cocky. Instead, he claimed her lips again, giving her a tongue lashing of a different kind.

Claire kept her legs clamped around his waist, helping her keep balance as they kissed and sucked and explored. She soon became quite aware of the growing bulge pinching into her thigh.

He pushed on her, as if instinct told him to pin her down onto the nonexistent floor. If she leaned any further back, she'd fall onto the cushions.

Wesker quickly grew tired of bothersome clothes. He ripped her shirt off and tossed it aside. Claire had already long discarded her stuffy parka.

When she tugged on his nice, black shirt to be tossed, he obliged without hesitation. Claire stared, her hands eagerly roaming over his muscular torso and arms. He was ripped! He made the few college guys she messed around with look like weaklings, and they were jocks.

"Like what you see?"

The part time spy could only nod, throat suddenly dry. She expected him to come back with a highly conceited reply, but he spared her once more.

"Good. So do I."

About that time, an experienced flick of his hand popped her bra strap. Her bra fell to the floor. Claire removed her hands from exploring Wesker's chiseled chest in the midst of a deep kiss to cover herself. Her wrists were snatched before she could do so.

"No more hiding...no more games," he ordered.

His hands stroked up and down her sides, over the peaks of her breasts and fondling them. His rough kisses skimmed from her lips, down her throat to her nipples, driving her mad. The younger Redfield's chest felt like her ribs would shatter any second from her heart. Heat pooled between her legs, her nerves sparked at every ending.

Wesker claimed one perky breast in his mouth, one muscular arm curled around her back, arched from the swirls and patterns from his tongue. Claire grazed a hand through his gelled hair, pushing her crotch into the hardened mass cradled in her thigh. It was so big she didn't understand how he could stand it still being confined.

A few grinds against his at attention member with her groin and he half growled, half groaned and released her breast from his teeth.

"You're awfully bold. Just remember it isn't a good idea to start what you cannot finish."

Another challenge. He knew just how to push her buttons. And that was exactly how she got into this situation, giving him exactly what he wanted.

"It's not my first time. Now, you gonna get this show on the road or what?" Claire hoped he didn't see through her false bravado and thinly veiled attempt at glossing over her nerves.

Besides, it may not have been her first time having sex, she'd done it a few times with college guys she knew, but Wesker was a whole different level than them. She was intimidated, but did all in her power to hide it.

"As you wish," he snickered. Yep, he saw right through her defense.

He leaned in, kissing her a few times on the lips, and just as Claire was relaxing, he bent and bit the side of one breast. She gasped, eyes shooting open and next thing she knew he pulled her off the couch to stand.

"Undress. Now." The authority in his voice both irked and aroused her.

She obeyed...stubbornly. Claire took her time sliding out of her pants and panties after kicking off her boots. It was hard to do with his eyes on her, head slightly cocking as he enjoyed every second of it. Why did he have to have such daunting and beautiful eyes?

Quietly, he admired her curves and athletic body. He must have sensed her incoming sarcastic comment on his silence because just as she opened her mouth, he kissed it right off her lips. One hand closed dangerously around her throat just before he shoved one knee in between her legs. He hoisted her right back up on top of the sofa, like she weighed nothing again.

It did little to interrupt their make out session. Wesker's hands were a strange mix of rough and smooth, and petting over her silky skin, it roused every little inch in goosebumps. She could feel the power in those hands, strong enough to kill her without much effort if he wanted to.

The fact that Wesker was so dangerous only fed Claire's libido. Besides it all being wrong and forbidden on so many levels, he was a very attractive man, megalomania aside. The college guys, or boys she might as well admit, she could've beaten to a pulp if she wanted to. Her brother's boss was the ultimate dominant male with a killer twist.

His hands retracted from her body, disappointing her until she heard the clinking of his belt buckle. Her pulse quickened at that and then skyrocketed when she heard his pants unzip.

Wesker slid her hindquarters out from the couch, balancing her on the back of the couch to the curve of her back. Her legs had retained their hold on his waist, but she held onto the cushions for dear life when he began kissing her breasts and stomach, slowly heading south. His hands caressed around her hips and squeezed her buttocks.

"Not to worry, Claire, I won't be dropping my prize anytime soon."

She wasn't worried about being dropped though. Strangely enough, she was used to his mocking tone by now that she knew it was his very own, if somewhat odd, way of reassuring her, even if he was bragging in the process.

He pulled out of her legs just far enough so he could kiss her pelvis and thighs. One hand spread her legs open a bit more, the touch as electrifying as a lightning storm. She was plenty wet now, could feel it lubricating her inner canal and vulva, preparing for an invasion.

Wesker tested with one finger, rubbing her clit in a soft circle before entering it inside her. He smiled into her abdomen as he sucked below her belly button. The second finger insertion caused her to groan louder than she cared to admit.

"How many partners have you had?" he asked. He sounded generally curious, and not at all mocking as he usually was.

Why did he care?

"T-Two." It was hard to concentrate with his sharp kisses in between her legs. "Why does it matter?"

He chuckled. "It won't after tonight."

What the hell does he mean by that?

The younger Redfield had no time to come up with a remark before his mouth took her pussy. She gasped, death gripping the couch cushions, letting the stimulating euphoria from her core spread through her body like a wildfire.

Her captor kissed and sucked on her clit, tongue rolling and sliding in marvelous patterns. Her previous partners never did this, only concerned with getting off themselves. Pressure continuously built as he lathered her with his tongue. Breathing became labored, her heartbeat was incredibly loud in her ears. Her legs wringed under him and she whined his name just as it became too much, on the verge of losing it.

But he stopped then, denying her right at the brink and she cursed under her breath, the high crashing from her brain and flustering her.

"Oh, did I stop too soon, Claire?" he teased. To provoke her further he rubbed his thumb over her wet opening and up over her clit and she involuntarily bucked from both anticipation and frustration.

"Sadistic asshole," she growled.

He didn't deny her insult, and probably would have agreed with her if he hadn't pushed himself over her and forcefully took her lips again. Her aggravation was soon forgotten as their kissing quickly became feverish and fierce. She let go of the sofa and let her hands explore his toned build. Her juices swapped between their lips and, really, that wasn't as bad as she thought it was going to be.

Claire slipped her hands down his exposed briefs to get her hands full. And she really did get a handful. He was way bigger than the last two. His rock hard member was at full attention in her hands, and Wesker softly groaned while kissing her jugular.

He must have sensed her trepidation though because he rose slightly, whispering into her ear. "Don't tell me you're losing your nerve just when it's getting interesting."

"N-No!" she snapped, his words perfectly rejumpstarting her resolution.

He kissed her jaw. "Then how about you finally admit to me what you really want? What I know you want…?"

A breath hitched in her throat. Claire couldn't admit it. She refused to! His mind games continued to torture her, but deep down she realized there was no hiding it. The secret was out...

"You…"

Wesker smirked. "Good girl."

Claire freed his cock from the confines of his pants. It was thick and long with a bulbous tip. The blood-filled flesh solid and ready. Quite ready.

Wesker grabbed her wrists and moved them away, sliding her legs out from the couch just a bit further. Claire gripped the couch again, her legs snaking around his waist, pulse palpitating in anticipation of what was about to happen.

Her lower back dug into the top of the couch when he bent over her again, but she didn't care. She wondered how it would feel with his whole weight on top of her. His kiss was potent, dizzying, like a shot of strong liquor.

The redhead's proverbial fiery attitude and impatient nature got the better of her, and she huffed, "I'm waiting," as she shivered, feeling his tip at her entrance.

"Good things come to those who wait," came his smug reply, his amusement apparent in his teasing undertone.

He penetrated her in one strong push, stretching and filling her all at once. Claire hissed at the pain at first, but it soon ebbed. Wesker gave her a moment to get used to him before he started rocking her. Slowly and steadily at first.

Claire's arms snaked around his back, stabilizing herself as her body see-sawed over the couch in each of his thrusts. He had a near death-grip on her hips; he wouldn't drop her.

She groaned into his claiming lips, each kiss seemingly getting more and more possessive and zealous, in league with each buck of his hips that grew stronger and faster. His dick glided in and out, covered in her juices and his pre-cum. Each time their pelvises connected, the tip of his cock rammed her cervix.

Claire moaned, the sweet, itchy pressure returning from within her canal, building at each of Wesker's powerful strokes. She squeezed her thighs around him tighter, fingers clenching into his muscular back. He returned her mewling and restlessness underneath him with a low groan, lifting her hips slightly for deeper access.

"I want to hear my name when you cum," he growled.

Several hard, deep thrusts later and the pressure blew, igniting her nerves, a drug-like high overcoming her senses as her body wracked and wringed in pure bliss. He kept pounding into her, even as she howled his name in drunk rapture. Her nails cut deep into his back as her whole body pulsated. She didn't have time to inhale precious air from her loud moans before Wesker silenced her completely with another dominating kiss.

His next few thrusts were erratic but even more penetrating, stretching her, preparing her body for his hazmat. Hot jets of Wesker's cum disgorged into her, coating her walls, filling her to the brim, almost sending her over the edge with another climax.

His slowing thrusts finally came to a stop, and all that could be heard was Claire's panting and Wesker's satisfied huff that warmed her throat. They stayed where they were for a moment, coming down off their ecstasy. Wesker still held Claire up, which was good because her limbs were useless now.

Wesker slowly, and dare she think reluctantly, pulled out of her. He picked her up off the couch and sat her on her own two feet, holding her steady. It gave her an odd, warm, fuzzy feeling to realize that he was waiting for her legs to be working properly again before he let go of her, preventing her from embarrassing herself by faceplanting right before his eyes after he turned her legs into overcooked spaghetti by the grace of his magic tongue and dick.

Huh. It's almost like he cares. Oh, who am I kidding...

He left her side long enough to get them some towels from the nearby kitchen. Claire took one gratefully and wiped up the mess between her legs. Wesker cleaned himself off and rebuckled his pants and slipped his shirt back on, watching Claire slowly and wobbly get dressed. There was no telling where her hair tie went. Her red-brown tresses would have to remain down for now.

Coming down off the high from the erotic encounter, Claire almost felt in shock of what exactly happened. She had just had sex with her brother's boss, the corrupt Captain of STARS, one of Raccoon City's most prominent men.

The younger Redfield was firstly ashamed of giving into him, letting him manipulate her right where he wanted her. She felt guilty doing that to Chris, especially in the middle of trying to protect him.

But at the same time...she was strangely intoxicated and satisfied with it. Sex with Wesker was a completely different experience than her previous, inexperienced partners. Addicting and alluring, and by far more gratifying. The thrill and danger from such an immoral coupling only confirmed that Wesker had been right about what she hid away.

That still didn't make her a bad person...right? Not like Wesker, anyway. Not like the rest of the wolves.

Her inner turmoil was only interrupted when Wesker picked up her parka and dusted it off, not that it got dirty laying on the super clean floor. He didn't offer it to her just yet, the two of them staring at each other in silence. Claire felt that Wesker was waiting for something, but she had no clue on what.

"And here I thought you would have something obstinate to say," he finally said with a smirk that was a bit less satirical than usual. "Trying to defend your recent questionable lapse in judgement, I'm sure. Strange, I only get silence."

She glared at him. "This," she motioned between them, "makes me nothing like you. And don't even think for a second it will make me help you hurt or kill innocent people. You might be a little right about the thrill-seeking, but that's it."

"It's liberating when you're honest with yourself, isn't it? More so, it's sensible," he countered. "In contrast to what you might believe, I don't purposely seek out people to hurt or kill, and they're rarely ever innocent. I only do so when they're in my way, it's convenient, or if I need to make a point." He stepped behind her and put her coat on for her. "The three men you helped me gain control over this evening, however, do, very much so. Do not worry yourself over their fates. They're well deserved, I assure you. Believe it or not, I am the lesser of two evils...this time. Now, any other self-justifying proclamations you wish to share?"

This guy was a real piece of work. She bit her tongue. "No."

He sighed, checking his watch. "Well, dear heart, I should get you home. It is getting late. Big brother will be back soon. Pity. Follow me."

He wrapped his arm around her lower back, urging her along towards the door. Her stomach flipped, the nerves in her back shivering delightfully. And she gulped on the inside, realizing her body would now naturally respond to him. She had unwittingly put herself in a much more dangerous situation because of her own stubbornness.

She only prayed Chris would never find out.

#resident evil #resident evil fanfiction #resident evil fanfic #Albert Wesker #Claire Redfield #clairexwesker #claire x wesker #Chris Redfield #William Birkin #Annette Birkin #sherry birkin #nicholai ginovaef #resident evil 2 #Jill Valentine #Ada Wong #fanfiction #fanfic #My writing #AO3 fanfic

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