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brenbofen · 7 months

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GAASPPP OMGGG VINCE I JUST GOT AN IDEA OH GOD

priest+exorcist reader x demon dottore holy FUCK ive always had a thing for sacrilege... religious corruption and shit like that... fallen to worship you instead, to open his eyes to the one true god, one who owns him, one who would give him salvation, one who graces him with blessing though he has ugly horns and tattered, blackened wings, one who will love him as supposed to the father above, one who would send him into eternal bliss

make him bite onto your rosary while you fuck him full, kiss on his horns, his scars and mumble sweet nothings like a prayer,, or call him things that sends shivers down his spine, make him claw at your skin while u punish him for his blasphemy, for his heresy... make a demon like him, violent and mad, into nothing but a slut for ur cock that will bring him into a realm of pleasure, something he deems as heaven...

basically taming this dangerous blood thirsty demon by fucking him to oblivion while being a the kind hearted priest u are 😇

oh god is this good for the monster theme??? I THINK I GOT CARRIED AWAY MY BAD... anyways take your time and have fun!!!

⤷ Sweet Words ✝︎ AMAB Preist Reader x Demon Dottore > Monster Luvrs Event

Vincent’s ramblings ଳ i couldnt hold myself back and am posting tbis a day early, im sorry guys 😞😞 also got a bit excited while writing this lawll

Featuring; Religious themes, degradation and praise, body worship, reader gets a little mean, spanking mentioned, belly bulge, multiple orgasms, slight p.rn with feelings??, biting and scratching, petnames (love, my love, baby), cumflation, Let me know if I missed anything!!

You always noticed a particular individual in the back of your church. Every sermon he’d watch you, whenever you’d look away you could feel his gaze burning through you. However, he never seemed to care for what you said. When the choir would sing or church goers would gather for a group prayer, he’d stay seated in his little corner, never moving until your sermon was over.

You had also began to receive an influx of reports about demons. More than enough times would you find yourself within the residents of your small village’s homes, searching for a demon that always seemed to evade you. No matter where you went or how early you were informed of the demon it always moved on to another location by the time you arrived. It was frustrating.

Currently you were in your office reading through documents and signing paperwork, tiredness clawing at your mind. You sighed, gently setting down your quill and resting your chin against the palm of your hand. Work was beginning to impede on your sleep. You would spend long nights searching for that demon, then you’d return to your office to count donations and send off documents, tonight you finally got a break, only a small stack of paperwork to go through then you could rest.

You were so out of it you almost missed the knock on your office door. Quickly you stood from your chair, smoothing out any wrinkles on your clothing as you called out for “Just a moment.” Upon opening the door you were stunned, it was the man in the back of the church!

He wore a bird like mask that covered the top half of his face, you noted the only thing not hidden was the bright blue hair framing his face. He gave you a meek smile, bowing his head slightly. “I apologize for disturbing you at this hour.” He spoke softly, barely parting his lips as he did so. You waved him off, telling him it didn’t bother you and stepping aside to let him in.

He nervously walked into your office, looking around before settling on a chair you motioned to. “Please, take a seat.” You sat in the chair across from him, you saw how the man sat awkwardly, almost as if something were preventing him from sitting comfortably. “I can’t thank you enough for letting me in.” He folded his hands neatly in his lap, tugging on the fabric of his gloves. There was this odd giddiness in his voice as he spoke, a sickly sweet smile on his face as if he were trying to contain his excitement.

You nodded, asking him why exactly he came, the hours for confessions and personal prayers were over. He frowned slightly, tilting his head to the side.

“I wished to… see you.”

You laughed nervously, running a hand through your hair as you leaned into your seat. “I’m sorry?” You were confused, why would he not wait for when you weren’t working? The man shifted in his seat, hands gently curling around his hood. You bit your tongue as he pulled the hood down, revealing curving horns that sprouted from his head.

He was a demon. He was the demon you had been searching for.

You immediately shot up from your seat and stumbled over to your desk while keeping your gaze on the demon, your hand slid across your desk as you searched for something, anything, to protect you from the creature before you. He pulled his mask off, bright red eyes almost appearing sad as he moved closer to you. “Please don’t be afraid, I mean you no harm.” You had your back pressed against your desk as the demon’s gloved hand gently, so, so gently, grabbed your wrist. “What do you mean you ‘mean me no harm’? You’ve destroyed homes! You’ve killed people damn it!” The demon sighed, lips parted just enough to show you his sharp teeth.

He was so close to you. You could feel the warmth radiating from his body, his breath hitting against your neck as he leaned even closer. “I know I’ve done those things… but I only wished to grab your attention.” He brought his other hand to your hip, holding you in place. “I just was too afraid to face you when you’d come looking for me.” The demon pulled back to look you in the eyes, both hands now resting on your hips.

“So what do you want… uh—”

“Dottore.”

“—Dottore?”

The demon— Dottore smiled at you, releasing a soft sigh. “I’ve seen you with the church goers. You’re so kind to them, helping them with mundane things, giving them advice and even resources.” Dottore tilted his head to the side in thought, “So much kinder than any god may be… I know it may be foolish but, I hoped you could share a bit of that kindness with me?” You looked at Dottore like he was mad, a demon asking for kindness from a preist? He really was foolish.

But, you didn’t want to turn him away.

If you did, it might mean he would return to terrorizing your village. You brought your hands to the clasp of his cloak, “Very well. You may stay here while I figure out what to do with you.” You removed Dottore’s cloak, watching as his dark wings fanned out, fluttering slightly from his giddiness. He gave you such a big grin, burying his face into your neck as he spoke soft thank yous like a mantra. Such an odd creature he was.

No one could fault you for wanting to have a bit of fun with him, right?

You now had Dottore nude as he leaned against your desk, your hands trailing up his body, his clothing discarded somewhere in uour office. He had been staying with you for a few weeks now, and you couldn’t help yourself from playing with a pretty thing like him. He would’ve never thought the sweet preist of a church in a small village would have such dirty fantasies. He bit back any teasing remarks as you buried your face into his neck, he wouldn’t want to make you upset. Not now, not while you were being so sweet to him.

You pulled your hands from Dottore and smiled at him, squeezing his sides before taking a step back. “Turn around for me, love.” Dottore did just as you asked, shivering when your chest pressed against his back. You were able to slide your fingers into Dottore easily, chuckling when you heard him bite back a whine. “No one’s here but us, you can be as loud as you want my love~” Dottore nodded, groaning as your fingers slid in and out of his hole. You wondered if he was still stretched out from the previous night or if he had a bit of fun without you.

Dottore’s wings fanned out around you as you dug the pads of your fingers into his sweet spot, a loud moan spilling from his lips. You basically had all of Dottore’s body memorized, able to make him feel pure bliss anytime you were alone with him. He adored how you’d kiss his scars, telling him how he was such a lovely thing as you’d slowly finger him. The way you’d laugh in his ear at his moans and whines, teasing him for how easily he’d melt in your hands. But he loved how easily you’d switch from being sweet to mean.

Anytime you’d harshly slap Dottore’s ass, saying such degrading words to him as you rammed your fat cock into his tight hole, it was heavenly. Dottore would always have his head thrown back, desperately clawing at anything he could get his hands on as you’d pump load after load into his greedy hole. The way you’d laugh in his face when he cried after you pulled out to watch your cum spill out of his puffy hold, clicking your tongue at his pleas for you to keep fucking him and fill him back up. Oh, and how once you finished you’d kiss his marred face gently, praising him for being so good to you before cleaning him up.

He loved you, so, so much. Could you blame him for worshiping you and your body like a god? You surely didn’t mind.

Dottore was ripped from his thoughts by you pressing your fingers basically knuckle deep into him, crying out as you made scissoring motions inside of him. Dottore didn’t even notice the drool beginning to spill from his open mouth, desperately squeezing his eyes shut as you drove him to his first orgasm of the night. He heard you gasp slightly, Dottore whimpering as you pulled your fingers out. “You’re so sensitive today, how cute~” You squeezed Dottore’s ass then took a step back, admiring the demon bent over your desk.

Dottore could hear you unbuckling your belt, wings fluttering as excitement bubbled in his chest. You always thought it was adorable how his wings would flap when he was excited. You stepped forward once you pulled our pants and underwear down, rocking your hips and sliding your dick against Dottore’s ass. He whined at the feeling of your length dragging against his skin, pressing his face against your desk.

Dottore mumbled your name softly, so quiet you almost didn’t hear him. “Please turn me around, I-I want to see you.” You laughed at Dottore’s request but did as he asked, turning him around so he was now straddling your hips. You reached up and wiped the drool on his chin, smiling when Dottore leaned into your touch. “You ready?” You repositioned yourself so the tip of your cock was pushing against Dottore’s entrance, chuckling at his flushed face as he nodded, gaze trained on your throbbing dick.

You pushed your hips forward, Dottore biting down on his lip as you shoved your length inside of him. You were so big for a human, your sheer size and how wide you stretched him out making Dottore’s mind feel fuzzy. There was a constant flow of praise from Dottore as you pushed yourself deeper into him, slight tears beading in his eyes from the stretch. No matter how many times he took you he could never get used to your size. He didn’t mind though, a part of him loved the pain.

Once you were fully sheathed inside of Dottore you pressed a hand to his stomach, pressing against the bump in his tummy, laughing at the whine he let out. “It’s me~” You cooed, Dottore rolling his eyes, both of you knew this attitude was just a little ruse he put on at least try and protect his ego before he would go an moan like a bitch in heat on your dick.

Gently, you began to thrust in and out of Dottore, giving him a moment to adjust to your movements. Though, it wasn’t long before Dottore would be begging for you to move faster and you could never hold yourself back for long when you’d see Dottore’s pretty face, expression showing nothing but pure bliss.

You leaned forward and roughly kissed Dottore, something to distract him as you picked up the pace of your thrusts. He groaned against your lips, clawed hands finding home in your hair as you pushed your tongue past his lips. Dottore moaned as you pulled away, feeling you do a particularly hard thrust into him. “You’re clenching so tight around me, mhmm.” You trailed your hands up Dottore’s torso as you spoke. Dottore nodded nodding, only able to focus on the feeling of your cock forcing his body to make room for it.

It was funny, you, the sweet priest having a deadly demon that caused havoc throughout your little village only weeks later becoming your sweet cock-slut.

You pushed Dottore’s hair from his face and kissed the base of his horns, Dottore humming as he leaned against you. He was so clingy, always craving your touch. It would be cute, if not for the snarky remarks he’d say once he was satisfied with your attention. Dottore’s claws raked down your neck and settled onto your back, nails digging into your shirt.

You rested your chin on Dottore’s shoulder, the man shivering when your breath hit his ear. “Careful not to tear my clothes, I have a meeting later.” Dottore nodded, grip loosening just barely. You squeezed Dottore’s hips, grinding against him, pulling little whines from him. You did this for a bit, Dottore about to snap at you, wanting you to move just a bit more, only for you to stop all your movements and make him beg for you to just do something.

You weren’t sure how many times you repeated this routine before you got bored and began pounding into Dottore. He laid back onto your desk, arms covering his face as he leg out the sweetest moans, thighs squeezing and trembling around your hips as you fucked him.

You leaned down and kissed the scars covering Dottore’s body, mumbling praises against his soft skin, relishing in the little protests that escaped him between his moans. No matter how much you told Dottore he was beautiful, how often you gold him you adored every part of him, he would curse and bite back, saying you were insane for loving him so much, but he never made the decision to leave. Never would he reject you when you’d hold him in your lap and shower him with praise and affection.

Dottore gripped your arms tightly, claws digging into the fabric of your shirt and tearing it. What a shame. “You ripped my shirt.” You gazed up at Dottore, seeing the pout that formed on his lips as little tears prickled in his eyes. “Hahh, am I fucking you so good you forgot my directions?” You pulled out fully then snapped your hips against Dottore, the man crying out as his back arched off your desk. “So stupid n’ drunk off my cock you can’t even follow a simple order?” Dottore babbled out apologies, pulling his hands away from your arms as he cried, but you knew he liked it. He adored how quickly you’d go from praising him to degrading him, treating him like he was some cheap whore.

You scoffed at Dottore, squeezing his hips to draw his attention back to you. He looked at you with the prettiest red eyes, seeming as if they sparkles in the dim lighting of your office from his tears. “Clothing can be replaced, ‘m just disappointed you couldn’t hold back for just a little longer.” Dottore frowned, mumbling out a small “sorry.”

You knew he wasn’t sorry.

You sighed, leaning forward and kissing Dottore, feeling his hands rest on your shoulders, no longer caring if his claws tore your clothing. You began to bite and mark Dottore’s neck and shoulders, taking in all the little whines he released right by your ear. You groaned when you felt Dottore clench down around you, biting his neck to try and suppress your own sounds.

He felt so good around you, so tight and warm, you could never get enough of Dottore. You hummed, feeling your orgasm drawing closer and closer, mumbling in Dottore’s ear. “I’m gonna cum, you’ll let me, yeah?” You harshly kissed Dottore, teeth mashing against teeth, your tongue feeling along his sharp teeth, “You’ll let me cum in you, baby?” You smiled when Dottore let out a weak “Yeah.” leaning forward and kissing him once again, your thrusts becoming fast and uneven, only thought in your mind being how badly you wanted to fill Dottore up.

You pulled away from Dottore’s lips and pressed your forehead against his, letting out an airy moan as you released inside of him. Dottore came shortly after, rolling his hips against you as he rode out his high, his head thrown back as he gripped your shoulders tightly. It wasn’t long before you were moving again, now harshly thrusting against Dottore, never letting up as you stuffed your cum deeper and deeper into him, filling him up to the brim. You could see his tummy becoming round and almost appearing bloated with how much cum you stuffed into him, some of it spilling out with each of your thrusts.

Dottore couldn’t complain, not when he felt so good and was so fucked out. He might have wanted to make some snarky remark, tease you for always wanting to fill Dottore up so you could watch your cum spill out of his hole, but at this point he couldn’t. The only thought on his mind was how good he felt, how amazing it was to be filled with your warm cum and how he loved your dick inside of him. Dottore honestly wasn’t quite sure how many times he had cum himself, only focused on you filling him.

You sighed after releasing in Dottore, not sure just now many times you had. Stumbling back, you pulled him into your lap as you sat in your chair, running your hands though his hair. Dottore pressed his face into your neck, gently kissing and nipping your skin. “You’re always so clingy when we finish.” Dottore scoffed, pulling away so he could look at you, wings stretching out behind him as his back popped. “Shut up.” His voice was hoarse, tears and drool dried on Dottore’s face, he didn’t seem to care though.

You shrugged, wrapping your arms around Dottore and pulling him into a hug, playing with his hair and occasionally petting his soft wings, Dottore humming against you. “How long until your next meeting?” You glanced at the clock on your wall, humming to yourself as you thought. “Few hours, why?” Dottore smiled, leaning up and biting your jaw. “That’s good, I want you all to myself for a bit.” You chuckled at Dottore’s words, kissing the base of one of his horns. “I told you you were clingy.” Dottore scoffed once again but didn’t speak, simply burying his face into your neck.

#— events: monster luvrs #— vincent’s stories #genshin smut #dottore smut #dottore x reader #sub dottore #dottore x male reader #genshin impact x male reader #genshin x reader #sub genshin #genshin impact smut #il dottore smut #sub il dottore

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time-is-restored · 9 months

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do you guys every think abt death vs immortality as a thoroughline in like. literally all of the mechs albums.

old king cole is explicitly warped by immortality (never to forgive he would eternal live, his hands dyed red by gore - can be read a few ways depending on where u place the emphasis, but at the very least communicates that his wrath is facilitated By his immortality), and the olympians commit attrocities in order to hold onto their wealth and the immortality that it grants them (murdering arachne, yanking heracles' chain the second he tries to go freelance, having a monopoly on the acheron etc). the value they put on immortality and living forever, and the fear they have of ever possibly losing it, has completely warped their morals and priorities.

and while it comes up less in tbi, there's still significant emphasis placed on how odin has been in power for a century (both thor + the narrator bring it up, and there's also an emphasis on how long ago the bifrost project was started, and how 'no one left living' can explain its science). her villain monologue in rangarok iv places the extinction of asgard as an honour - a ruin that no one can possibly rebuild from is called 'apotheosis'. and as she says at the end, the idea that no one can possibly outlive her is a key draw for odin. asgard dies with her.

in hnoc, the only really immortal character is brian (and we only really know that bc of knowledge we get from outside the album), but the axis of life and death as a privilege vs a curse is still very present. 'mordred's gift to Arthur could be love in his own eyes / fating him alone to keep the life to which he clings', not only posits that the gift of survival isn't inherently good + kind (which the audience would immediately recognise as love, not possibly love), but places emphasis on the fact that arthur is now utterly alone. the station's death at the hands of mordred is hardly a happy one ('Its people damned, doomed by a man who's lost all his regrets'), but arthur's fate is arguably worse. severed from the finality and closure of death, what does he become? [insert that one cool theory abt hnoc arthur becoming old king cole here]

it's like. on a meta level, the reason we as fans don't put much emphasis on the depravity + cruelty of the mechs is bc the people portraying the mechs are all charismatic + skilled performers. in live gigs they're all portraying the fun side of their characters - roasting each other, bantering with the audience, making fun of the characters they're singing about, referencing off-screen violence - bc if they portrayed their lore too literally they'd be comitting felonies LMAOOO

but narratively, its like. literally every album is a meditation on the ways that the glorification of immortality can ruin civilisations - can ruin galaxies. whether its rooted in the fear of you specifically dying, or of being outlived, or overpowered or forgotten, or if its done for the sake of someone else's survival... it's all corrosive. if u refuse to accept the indisputable impermanence of life, you lose the ability to value it, and u numb urself to the reality of just how fucked up it is to cut another person's life short for any reason.

like. i do think some of the mechs started as good people, and some of them even might still have ethical standards, but i REALLY cannot stop thinking about how fucking. fascinating it is that this group of immortals who are KNOWN for basically considering nothing but how fun and/or violent any given activity will be, have basically filled their entire discography with songs about how their continued existence is corrosive and brings tragedy + ruin wherever they go.

so how self-aware are they? do you think those old morals + ethics still linger in their mind, when they're writing down these tragedies? they willingly self identify as liars + thieves + bastards, etc etc, and they seem to have no trouble identifying the 'bad guys' in the various albums (ie: humanising snow + cinders + rose, but not king cole), but do those concepts actually mean anything emotionally, or even theoretically, for them all beyond their dramatic potential? do they remember their lives before they were mechanised as it actually happened, or do they remember it as lyrics to a song? is it possible to be entirely self aware abt ur own capacity for violence (as jonny in paticular claims to be), if you no longer relate to violence as anything other than a narrative device - a means to an end, whether comedic or dramatic?

#the mechanisms #mechanisms #mechs #its not even that i have a specific passion for super grimdark mechs characterisation #just from a thematic perspective it is SO interesting to have these characters #narrating tragedies who themselves dance in and out of narrative conventions + signifiers of good + evil #and also like. literally transform themSELVES into narratives via backstory fiction + songs #its all so like. was there ever a truth here? if its all been forgotten + replaced with stories? can any of them care about good and evil #anymore on a level beyond how it will make an audience react?#idk. i care them #mine #my writing

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goredev · 5 days

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Gore is on hiatus. after 16 years active duty with4 deployments in the army, i'm retiring medically for my bipolar diagnosis, multiple TBIs, clavicle injury, etc. no idea where life will take me next, no idea when i'll be able to work on Gore again, but i'll miss you all.

life is a journey. i'm proud we got to go together in some small way on your journey through skyrim, and im proud of Gore. i'm proud of you, too.

this was so important to me. so many of you made me feel seen as i poured my heart out to you about my journey with war trauma, CSA, found family, learning to love life again. the tears ive shed seeing younger people heartbreakingly relate to him, the joy i felt making friends, lifelong ones, through this mod, it's unrivaled.

to the trans people out there fighting for your lives, know i will continue fighting with you until i fucking die. this mod was for you, it was for eden, who changed my life by simply being a part of it.

i love you all. see you, so soon, but be kind to each other in the meantime.

#gore skyrim #skyrim #skyrim cvfs #skyrim gore #skyrim modded followers

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shalpilot · 2 months

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do you ever think about how killer is 4 years older than kid. as adults that's not a huge age gap but growing up killer was larger, older, and probably had to take of himself and kid. how long do you think he has designated himself as kid's protector? what sacrifices might he have made for kid when they were growing up? when kid was 9 and killer was 13. when kid was 13 and killer 17. did he ever really shed the feeling of responsibility for kid's safety after kid grew up and became his captain? does he ever regret after wano following him? of course he loves him, but some fates might be worse than death. killer would follow kid into hell but how long can he keep charging after kid into unwinnable battles? how many sacrifices will he have to make? after wano does kid ever hear killer's laugh without feeling like he wants to throw up? does ever he think killer would have been better off loving someone else?

i hate them i hate them so much

I think about it the most when I draw them as kids and realize I have no idea what the hell a “child development” is /j

As someone who’s been the youngest in my friend groups for…ever… I’ve never been on the other side of that kind of dynamic but I can imagine that somewhere along the line Killer sat down and was like ohhhh my god. Oh my god he doesn’t need me to protect him anymore and just had a little moment of … do I feel happy? do I feel proud? I think he’d quickly realize that Kid does still need him even if it’s not to keep him from getting his head caved in. I can also imagine they might’ve had a few nasty fights about Kid being Killer’s captain now and things ARE different and you HAVE to listen to me I’m the CAPTAIN it doesn’t MATTER what you think

They make up tho… clearly

NOW. FOLLOWING KID INTO UNWINNABLE BATTLES. AUUUGGHHHAARGHH. This is me speaking as Shal Kid stresses me out SO much can he sit down for five minutes maybe. He doesn’t have to fight EVERY yonko actually he already got the one can he pl. please. so I would think Killer feels this x100 but at the same time he *also* likes running into battles but would greatly prefer. If Kid would give a little warning beforehand. Like Killer’s still gonna do it he will follow him anywhere but the years that have been shaved off his life by his fucking idiot partner can not be insubstantial.

Sacrifices… Killer and WCI Sanji would get along wouldnt they /j Killer is shown time and time again to be willing to give up EVERYTHING for Kid unquestionably and it makes me SICK. He’s Kid’s partner, yes, but he sees himself as expendable if it means Kid gets to keep on living. And Kid doesn’t even know!!!!! Does Killer think Kid would want this??? Does he really believe Kid would want his partner giving up his life for his sake?? what if I screamed what if I yelled so loud

When I think about how Kid sees Killer after Wano I go into a deep dark hole and I cry a little bit. I feel like Kid could read Killer’s emotions perfectly even under the mask but now that non-verbal communication has been shattered. And even when talking it’s impossible to tell how Killer really feels about something and that must really put a fucking strain on communication 😃👍👍 I have a lot of thoughts on some parts of tbis but they’re like. Kinda heavy and I haven’t thought of how to verbalize them quite yet?? but boiling it down… Kid pulling away because he doesn’t want to overstep while Killer’s suffering and Killer wanting to beg Kid to stay by his side but he can’t !! :)))))))) YEOWCH!!

They are perfect for each other and they deserve each other and I wish they had an easier life.

#ask shal #kidkiller

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yeonghosins · 9 months

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CHANGE | III : I PULLED OFF YOUR WINGS (L.J)

GENRE | angst, suggestive, band au PAIRING | lee jeno x reader, nct dream x reader WARNINGS | angst, toxic behavior, jeno is NOT a good guy, slight SA (not glorified, but read at your own risk pls) WORD COUNT | 4.7k PREVIEW | "i’d never admit this openly, but, like, i’m one of most well-known members of the band. people love me. i belong there. where people love me, praise me. i’m a fucking star.” DISCLAIMER | this work is purely fictional. it may mention real idols, but is not meant to exist as a true account of their behaviors, conversations, and character traits. situations, conversations, and character traits featured in this story and any adjacent works are entirely fictitious. PLAYLIST | TBI SERIES MASTERLIST | INTRO | I | II | III | IV | EPILOGUE

THEN – COLLEGE, FIRST YEAR.

you really shouldn’t have called him, of all people. donghyuck was probably at renjun’s place trying to write songs, jaemin was probably out in some stoner’s house smoking up a bowl, and renjun was more than likely trying to get donghyuck out of his garage to get some sleep. jeno was really, honestly your last ditch effort not to be all alone that night.

you’re not even that close to the guy, only having known him mutually by the ways of his step-brother, but one vulnerable moment followed the next and you were dialing his number to ask him for ‘guy advice’. he showed up at your doorstep not twenty minutes later, all broody and smug and chiseled with his messy jet black hair and his stupid piercings. you swear you haven’t the slightest idea how things ended up the way they did.

hey, at first you really did just want to ask about guy advice––but one beer turned into three, and suddenly you’re on your couch with his head between your thighs.

“jen––fuck,” you moan, clutching desperately at his already unruly hair and at anything you could get your hands on as he grips your thighs and hips in an attempt to keep you still. “this is––this is not what i meant by ‘guy advice’––“

he leans back, using his strength to split your legs apart as far as they can go, and to your utter shock, he spits.

“shut up,” he says before diving back in, lapping at your core as if you were his last meal on earth.

you concede with a loud moan, and you hear him laugh, continuing with his ministrations in an attempt to coax the sound out of you again, likely to the chagrin of your neighbors and the cohabitants of your floor.

he circles his tongue ‘round your clit and you tug on his hair harshly, arching your back and practically grinding your hips against him, his tall nose bumping against the bundle of nerves and the sensation bringing you closer to the edge.

he laughs again, darkly, his pants growing tighter at the way you use him for your own pleasure. there’s a rough touch to the way he handles you, his slender fingers digging into the fat of your thighs in an attempt to still your movements and leave you helpless against his mercy.

he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t waiting for an opportunity like this. he barely knew you the way the other guys did, and this is one hell of a bonding activity. every time the two of you were in the same room, there were always three other figures there stealing up all your attention. whether it be you sat in jaemin’s lap (far too comfortably for two ex-lovers, jeno’s always thought), or letting renjun cuddle in during movie nights, or, hell, the dreaded situation of walking into his dormitory and finding it empty, meaning donghyuck was staying over at your place all alone––jeno was never given the time of day.

sure, maybe he was a little cold. a little mean sometimes. a bit more emotionally distant, not coming over to your house like his stepbrother, donghyuck, does all the time to cry about getting dumped, like a pussy––but can’t a guy like him get the same amount of attention from you that you so love to give donghyuck and his friends?

safe to say, when his phone lit up with your name, he’d never snuffed out a cigarette so fast. hell, he was barely halfway through the menthol stick before he grabbed his jacket and ran. so, when he arrived at your place, greeted by you in your cute little pajamas, swollen eyes and––oh, no bra, he could barely pay attention as you rambled on about the new guy who’d ghosted you. all he could do was stare at your pretty lips, or into your pretty doe eyes, or––and without shame––at your perked-up nipples against the fabric of your shirt. who’d ghost a piece like this? a dumbass, jeno thinks. that’s who.

“i––i’m close,” you whine. it’s music to jeno’s ears. “please, fuck, i’m gonna cum.”

pulling away from you with a smirk and a swipe with the back of his hand at his mouth, he unbuttons his jeans slowly. “only way you’re coming is on my dick, baby,” he groans, watching as you gape at the sheer size of him as his cock sits in his grip.

he laughs at your reaction. “never seen one this big before?”

he watches as you swallow. he might as well pinch himself to make sure he isn’t dreaming this up. “n–nuh-uh,” you respond slowly.

“good,” he smirks, aligning himself at your entrance. “better take it slow, huh?”

before you can even respond with a nod, he betrays you completely by thrusting in all at once, forcing air out of your lungs and a harsh gasp to escape you.

“fuck!” you exclaim, gripping at the cushions and squeezing your eyes closed. “what the fuck?”

he laughs to himself, feeling your slick coat him and easing the friction of his thrusts. he’s not letting up, and you arch your back at the overwhelming pain and pleasure. “just having a lil’ fun, baby,” he coos condescendingly. “don’t like it?”

“n-no, no,” you moan, practically clawing at his shoulder blades. “no, fuck, i fucking love it, please, d-don’t sto–op!”

“wasn’t planning on it, gorgeous,” he says, groaning and planting a slap against the side of your thighs. he feels as though he’s in heaven, the angelic chorus of your moans and cries filling his ears as all he chases is more, more, more.

he flips you over and thrusts in again, palming the fat of your ass, feeling his high come closer as you squeeze around him desperately. fuck, he can’t get enough.

he makes a mental note to remind you not to tell his brother of any of this, and makes another to tell you to call him the next time you need “guy advice”.

you call him again the next day. and the next. and the next.

as it turns out––you’re pretty desperate for guy advice, and jeno’s more than happy to satisfy your needs.

NOW – THE TAXI CAB

a veiny hand wraps around a cardboard cup. jeno turns it on its end against the wooden table of the booth he’d sat you both down on, far from the entrance. he sits facing away from most of the people populating the café, a slight smirk still tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“what do you want?” you finally speak through tight lips, staring daggers into him.

he snickers lightly to himself, taking a sip of his black coffee. “i’m guessing you spoke to jaemin.”

“yeah, i spoke to jaemin — after you let him nearly overdose last night,” you say coldly.

“he’s stupid,” he laughs slightly, scrunching his nose. “i mean, i hate to call him out on his shit, but nearly a decade into this thing, you’d expect him to get his shit together or at least try to. instead, he’s getting high off his rocker on a weekday night and fucking his ex.”

blood burns from your chest to the tips of your ears. “how’d you find out?”

he smiles, brightly as ever, and looks you straight in the eyes. “made a guess. you just told me.”

you shift your gaze, finding focus in the stack of tissues atop your table.

“what, shy, now?” he chuckles lightly, leaning leisurely against the backrest, tossing his arms over it. “c’mon,” he says, tossing out your last name lightly. “’s not like you’re unpredictable.”

you stare into his eyes, letting him know to watch his footing as he talks to you.

“i’m just saying!” he holds up his hands, lazily, in surrender. “not the first time you’ve called one of us up late at night for some dick, is all.”

you shoot up out of your seat, fists clenched by your sides. just as you grab your own drink, his hand wraps around your wrist.

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry,” he apologizes with a laugh, coating his jabs in sugar. “sit down. i’ll stop.”

you grit your teeth, sighing through your nose. you should’ve expected this of him––he’s never been the most sufferable type, even when he had your head pushed into his pillows. and yet, there’s always been a charm about him that got you in his pillows in the first place, so you sit.

“what did you two talk about?” he asks after a long pause between the two of you. the tension could be cut with a chainsaw.

“him,” you start hesitantly, making eyes at anything else except for the man in front of you. “what’d happened. your label. you.”

“me?” he asks with a sharp grin, leaning forward. you shift away from him. “you were talking about me, gorgeous?”

you look him in the eyes again as a warning. “about how shitty you and donghyuck are towards him and renjun, yeah.”

he clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth and shrugs. “jaemin’s weak.”

“jaemin’s struggling,” you correct, shifting slightly. “always has been. you should know that.”

“i’m not his fucking babysitter, if he’s gonna waste away with a goddamn needle in his foot i won’t be fucking responsible for it,” he snaps suddenly, his face on the edge of contorting into a distasteful grimace. “he just wasn’t born for fame. you’ve seen what it’s done to him, he’s a standing pile of bones.”

“don’t say that,” you hiss.

“what? ’s not like he’d care. jaemin and i aren’t friends,” jeno shrugs again.

you scoff. “you’re talking about this like it’s high school all over again.”

he laughs dryly. “we didn’t like each other then, i don’t think we plan on liking each other now.”

the conversation lulls. his aggression tones down, at least by a little.

“whatever happened between the two of you, anyway?” you ask.

he laughs again, rather sarcastically, taking a sip from his coffee. “so we’re talking about me, now?” he asks, raising his eyebrow.

“yeah, we’re talking about you, now,” you answer.

you realize you never really knew that much about jeno, despite what your history together might reveal. he was never one to speak up, mostly sticking to donghyuck and, more often than not, avoiding interacting independently with the other people in your friend group.

“guy stuff. fuckin’ unimportant now,” he deflects indifferently.

you raise an eyebrow at him, unconvinced.

jeno’s demeanor changes. his shoulders sink slightly, though he straightens them within a split-second. you catch a slight twitch in his face as he avoids your stare.

he grits his teeth, the muscles of his jaw visibly shifting under the skin of his cheek. “it’s dumb shit. goes way back.”

“could you just tell me?” you sigh at his stubbornness.

he stays silent, gritting his teeth. “this wasn’t supposed to turn into a therapy session.”

“surprise therapy seems to be the theme of the week,” you say.

he forces a laugh. jeno was never the one to crack so easily. you would have to think of some other way to get a confession out of him.

jeno was never, ever the emotionally vulnerable type. before the two of you started sleeping together, you barely spoke, even two years after being donghyuck’s step-brother. you only really knew what there was to be known about him — his mother died when he was a kid. his father, whom he didn’t care for much, had married donghyuck’s mother just before your junior year of high school. you were invited to their wedding. him and donghyuck were thick as thieves by the end of the summer.

his and donghyuck’s parents dated for less than two months before deciding to get married –– for mrs. lee, any man would have been better than the one she’d previously been married to. donghyuck’s father was never around, and when he was, was an awful person to be around. jeno and his dad were welcome guests.

he had never gotten close to the rest of you. you never knew why, you always felt as though you, renjun, and jaemin were extremely personable, but he preferred to stick by haechan’s side more often than not. he was always distant, like the shadow following behind donghyuck’s every move. he never opened up. only laughed at jokes when they spat vulgarly from donghyuck’s mouth. never cried, rarely smiled, and only got drunk enough to scurry on back to his room and doze off for the night.

so, if you were to dig your nails deeper into the story that lurked underneath the band’s pop-punk image, you would have to think smarter than just easing jeno’s emotions out of him at a mom-and-pop café.

“you’re not gonna get it out of me by sitting and chewing on the inside of your cheek,” he says, picking at his nails. the corners of his mouth threaten to tick up when he catches the way you glare at him.

you have got to stop letting him get the upper hand on you.

“stop fucking reading my mind,” you say curtly. he laughs.

“but yours is the easiest to read,” he says. you realize this may be the most the two of you have talked about anything, likely ever. he’s fun. “that’s why it didn’t take me too long to get my head between your legs.”

he can be fun. most of the time he’s an irritating prick.

and what you hate the most is that with every filthy word that spouts from his mouth, you find yourself pressing your thighs together, ever so slightly. he’s a jackass.

before you can respond, your phone starts to vibrate atop the wooden surface. your work alarm.

“shit,” you mutter under your breath. “i have to get to work.”

“work?” he asks. you stare at him blankly.

“yeah, dumbass,” you spit, tugging at the lanyard ‘round your neck to reveal your press pass and ID. “my job.”

“no, i know what you meant, but—“

you interrupt him by shooting out of your seat, already fishing at your pockets for your keys. “we’ll finish this later. i get off this afternoon, i’ll come by the hotel.”

jeno clicks his tongue, shaking his head slightly. “donghyuck’s not gonna wanna see you,” he says in a singsongy tone. you could punch him.

“yeah, well, he’ll have to deal with it. we can meet at the hotel bar,” you hurriedly respond, raking your fingers through your hair in an attempt to self-soothe. if you leave any later, you’ll get stuck in morning traffic.

as you walk away from him, he shouts, “don’t miss me too much!”

you roll your eyes.

“kick him in the nuts first, then punch him,” you mutter under your breath, making your way down the street to get in your car.

jeno slots a cigarette between his teeth. he stands against the railing of the hotel bar’s balcony, looking down at the lights that begin to flicker on as the sun sets, leaving the small city in the shroud of night.

flicking at his lighter, flame strikes the tip of his stick and he takes a pull.

he doesn’t know why, but he’s nervous while he waits for you.

there’s a part of him that offers up the fact that he shouldn’t even care about the fact that you’re here, that you’re finally back, because he’s got more to worry about than some girl he’d fucked years ago.

but he pushes that part to the back of his mind. for you, he couldn’t give less of a fuck.

so why is he standing on this balcony waiting for you?

he’s nearly halfway through his cigarette when you push through the glass doors, and he smiles to himself.

“got all dressed up for me, huh?” he says through his cigarette, which stays pinned in his teeth.

“yeah, well,” you shrug, pushing hair out of your face. “i didn’t wanna be in my work clothes at a fancy hotel bar.”

jeno smiles again. he decides to pull the cig out of his mouth and hold it out between his two fingers. “want some?”

you look at him incredulously.

“no.”

“okay. your loss.”

“could we start?” you ask, and jeno blows smoke off the balcony.

“on what?” he asks.

you look at him again, as if you were hoping he’d get the message. “on what we were supposed to do? talk?”

jeno scrunches his face up in thought. that’s the last thing he’d want to do. “let’s go to a club.” he says, bluntly.

you’re just about to continue talking when he snuffs out the cigarette with his boot and walks back inside.

his hands are shoved in his pockets as he makes his way to the elevator. he hears your high heels walking quickly towards him.

“jeno,” you call. he stifles a laugh at your frustration. “motherfucker, we’re not going to a club.”

the doors open, and he steps in. you’re stood on the other end, holding onto the button. you just won’t listen to him, won’t you?

“yeah, we are,” he contests, and tugs you into the elevator and presses a button to close it.

“what the fuck?” you ask. he puts his arm over your shoulder.

he turns his head to look at you, at your angry eyes and all the thoughts flitting around that little brain of yours. he thinks of the questions you might ask him, at how your reappearance in his life nearly broke him down after all these years. “i need a drink.”

“we were at a hotel bar,” you sigh as you wait for his car by the curb, stood next to him. you’ve got your arms wrapped around your torso. “and i left my coat.”

you’re shivering in the cold of the night. he feels a twang in his chest at the sight of you, and catches himself feeling guilt over pulling you around at his every whim.

“here”, he says. he shrugs his oversized blazer off and throws it over your shoulders. “what?” he says, after seeing the way your eyes try to read his. “i can be nice.”

“okay,” you respond quietly, wrapping his blazer tighter around you. he’s been using the same cologne since college. you’re getting deja vu. “i’m still mad at you.”

his chauffeur drives up to the curb when he reaches out to open the passenger door for you, gesturing inside. “i know.”

you realize the position you’d put yourself in the second jeno stops you from opening the car door for yourself. stepping out of a rockstar’s car, with him holding its door open for you, to walk into a club. would you be photographed? what are the lengths you’d go to fit the puzzle of your past back together?

you don’t have the time or the attention to focus on answering such a question, as he rests his hand on your lower back to lead you into the club. the music thumps and swells in your ears as you make your way inside.

walking you to the bar, jeno leans against the counter as he waits for the bartender to finish a drink they were stirring up.

“what’ll you get?” jeno asks you, lunging closer to shout the words into your ear.

“an iced tea?” you respond. he looks at you incredulously. “fine. a pale, i guess.”

“still your drink, huh?” he smiles, repeating your order to the bartender. “double whiskey for me.”

“since when were you a whiskey guy?” you scoff.

“since i could afford it,” he smiles wider, handing you your drink. he downs his in one go, and suddenly the bottle in your hand feels ten times colder than it was when he’d given it to you.

you try to chug at least half of it, but the bitter taste and the carbonate that swims down your throat makes the task increasingly difficult.

somehow, he’s found you both an empty booth to sit in. you sit on the outer edge of the crescent couch. he shimmies his way practically next to you. he asks a wandering waiter for another drink, while you nurse half your beer in your hands. you’d think it better to let it warm in your palm over drinking the whole thing, anyway.

“i missed you, y’know,” he shouts over the noise. it’s an awful venue to be having a deep conversation, but you suppose you’d do whatever made jeno comfortable enough to talk.

you look at him, then roll your eyes. he laughs at your reaction. “you? missing me?”

“hey, it’s the truth. we got signed to our record what, two weeks after i ended things?” he says, throwing his arm over the booth’s backrest. “didn’t have nearly enough of you yet.”

you have the urge to laugh. “you didn’t end things. i did.”

he purses his lips and squints at you. “pretty sure i did, babe.”

“no,” you insist, “i ended things. i found out you hadn’t told donghyuck yet and ended things right then and there.”

jeno’s eyes practically twitch at the mention of his stepbrother. he sucks at his teeth for a second before conceding. “okay, gorgeous. you ended things. silly me.”

you try to read his expression afterwards, but all you’re getting are loud signals that he’s giving you that look that means he’s just itching to have a taste of you. you don’t know how well it settles in your stomach.

coughing, you try to switch up the subject. “so,” you shout. the strain on your voice will definitely have its consequences in the morning. “let’s talk.”

‘’bout what?” he says. a busboy had handed him the drink that sits in his hands.

“quit acting dumb, jen,” you sigh. “i wanna talk about you. about everything that’s happened. about why you’re so different now.”

he looks at you questioningly. “different?”

“yeah, different. like a switch flipped from the time you left to now.”

he chuckles lightly, tilting his head before taking another sip of his drink. “i don’t think i’ve changed. i’ve just… found where i belong.”

something about what he says twists your tummy in the wrong way. “where you belong? like, with the boys?” you know that statement is far from the truth. if he’d felt like he belonged among his bandmates he wouldn’t be acting the way he does toward them.

he laughs, throwing his head back, as if you’d told him the funniest joke he’d ever heard. “not with the boys, no. well, donghyuck, i guess, yeah. but—with the attention. i’d never admit this openly, but, like, i’m one of most well-known members of the band. people love me. i belong there. where people love me, praise me. i’m a fucking star.”

it takes you a moment to process what he’d told you. if it isn’t the definition of letting fame get to one’s head, you don’t know what it is.

noticing your silence, jeno’s the first to speak up.

“now that i’ve talked, can we drink more or something?” he asks. you’re quick to notice how his hand falls on your knee as he moves closer to speak into your ear.

“i’m good, jen, but you can go ahead,” you respond, waving your nearly empty beer in front of him. you’re suddenly missing your warm bed and your quiet apartment more than ever. a light spin in your head doesn’t spell good news for you, either. your system is not very tolerant of alcohol. “i don’t think i’ll be getting any other straight answers from you, so i’d best just get home.”

“aw, c’mon, gorgeous. i paid off a bouncer for this booth. stay awhile,” he says, his hand slowly traveling up your thigh. “stay with me.”

though his touch on your skin is light, the grip he has on you keeps you still in your seat. the flashing lights and alcohol in your system cloud your judgement, spinning it into little spirals in your head. you stare into his big browns, the way they flicker between your eyes and down to your lips, that you barely even register that the both of you had moved closer to each other.

like opposite sides of two magnets, you’re drawn to him, into his eyes, the smell of his cologne that’d once seeped into every corner of your college apartment, and the slight whiff of whiskey and tobacco on his collar. in a split second, his lips are on yours. you pull away, ever so slightly, but he places his hand on the back of your jaw to keep you in place.

the pit in your stomach drops low enough for you to snap out of your haze, enough for you to writhe out of his hold and push his wandering hands away from you.

“jeno, i’m not fucking doing this,” you say shakily, brushing hair out of your face. you’re grabbing your bag before he can respond. “all these years, you’re gone, and now you take me out to a club, thinking you could sweet talk yourself into my pants? fuck off.”

you’re rushing out of the club, but you know he isn’t far, as the sound of his footsteps follow closely.

the doors open and you’re walking out onto the curb. “babe, come on—“

“don’t fucking call me that, you piece of shit,” you spit at him, trying to stand your ground despite the way the ground seems to wobble underneath you. “i’m calling a ride.”

you sense him walk up closer to you. you hold your hand out onto the street, hoping for a cab to make its way towards you when you feel his hands on the bare skin of your arms.

“don’t be that way, pretty girl,” he says, too quiet and close for comfort, into your ear. “i just wanna have a little fun with you. like old times.”

disgust bubbles within you as you shove him away. walking hastily down the sidewalk, you search in panic for a taxi to take you home. “could you just fuck off?” you say, but he refuses to relent. “i’m not fucking you.”

“you’re a fucking bitch, y/n.” he shouts as you walk farther from him.

all you remember is the blood rising to your head, the sound of your own rapid footsteps, and a solid slap across the face.

jeno holds his hand up to his cheek as he looks at you in shock.

“you’re a fucking piece of shit, jeno,” you repeat to him. “leave me the fuck alone. forever, preferably.”

you begin to walk away, still holding a hand out for a cab. adrenaline rushes through your system. your body is practically vibrating. jeno’s footsteps do not follow.

a cab rolls up to the curb, and you give the driver your address. you climb in and shut the door, feeling like an idiot for ever thinking he'd deserve a chance.

the tears start rolling down your face before you can register them at all.

you spend the weekend at home, avoiding your work responsibilities. you’ve decided to quit the project on daydream altogether. it’s clear that it isn’t a job you’re cut out for.

it’s the monday after, and it seems as though the entire world is shrouded in grey. the rain pounds down against your windows in waves, and fog restricts your view of the city outside. it feels claustrophobic, but you can’t bring yourself to leave your apartment.

you’re in the midst of brushing out your hair when you hear the doorbell ring.

simultaneously, your phone dings with a new notification. not from jaemin, nor renjun, nor jeno (thank god), but from an unknown number. goosebumps rise on your skin at the thought of who it might be.

it couldn’t be, though. not after how he’d so graciously greeted you several days ago. right?

from unknown number:

outside of your apartment. open up

the words are all too familiar.

as slowly as you can, you make your way to your front door. you swing it open.

on your foyer, drenched and soaked in rainwater from head to toe, stands the one person you’d known all your life as the living embodiment of the sun. he clutches a wet clump of cloth.

“you left your coat at the hotel bar.”

AUTHOR'S NOTE | third chapter done:) sorry for the long wait, i was caught up w a lot of personal stuff and writers block but im back! im really sorry for the way i wrote jeno lol. final member chapter coming soon im so scared TAGLIST | @snflwrhaerecs4u @niinjo @anniebyanto @lunaryoongie @wonyofanclub @turtash @savage-aespa @kayleeshinee @moonxiiey

#nct #nct smut #haechan smut #nct dream smut #jeno smut #jeno x reader #lee jeno x reader #jeno angst #lee jeno #lee jeno angst #lee jeno smut #jeno au #lee jeno au #cithof #change in the house of flies #yeonghosins writes

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vodika-vibes · 21 days

Text

**Chapter 1**

Summary: When Commander Wolffe is forced into early retirement after losing an eye in a terrorist attack, he thinks his life is over. However, when his twin brother volunteers him to help a younger cousin adjust to life outside the military, he doesn’t fight as much as he normally would have. Still when his younger cousins, Rex and Gregor, told him that they signed up to play security for Doctors Without Borders, he genuinely thought that it was going to be the easiest job he’s ever had. Right up until the plane falls out of the sky and they end up stranded on an island that doesn’t follow any of the rules as he knows them.

Characters: Commander Wolffe, Captain Rex, Captain Gregor, F!Reader character called Bumblebee or Bee in story

Genre: Adventure, Supernatural, some romance (because I'm me)

Word Count: 2394

Warnings: None, so far

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: So I wasn't going to start this story until I finished my event stuff, but apparently I had an idea and needed to get it down.

This is the worst.

The absolute worst.

He should be home, in the barracks, looking after his brothers in the 104th. He should be standing next to his general as they prepare for the next push against the Seppies.

But no. He’s here, miles away from where he should be, waiting for the tiny plane to finish getting loaded for the last stretch of his, and his cousins, journey.

Wolffe can’t even bring himself to enjoy the scenery, why bother, it’s not like he’s going to be here long anyway. He leans against the back of the bench that he’s sitting on, his gaze flickering around the airstrip until he spies Rex and Gregor, talking with a pair of women near the building.

Good. So long as they’re not getting in trouble.

Not that he really expected them to. But as the oldest, he can’t help but look out for them.

Especially Gregor.

His cousin had healed very nicely from the injury that nearly killed him. He’s still himself, the TBI doing very little to change his personality, but his memory is still spotty.

It’s one of the biggest reasons that he didn’t fight quite as hard as he normally would have when Fox volunteered him for the position. Besides, Doctors Without Borders is a respectable organization.

He could do worse.

Sure that his cousins are safe and aren’t wandering off to get mugged by someone who hates tourists, Wolffe casts his gaze back to the plane. And slowly his eyebrows raise when one of the doors open and a young woman hops out of the cockpit.

She looks familiar.

She looks very familiar.

He knows that jacket. He damn well better, he was the one who bought it in the first place.

He pushes to his feet and approaches the plane, and…there, on the side of her neck, a bumblebee tattoo with a honeycomb behind it.

A grin crosses his face without his permission, “Well now, look who it is. Lieutenant Bumblebee, in the flesh.”

She turns, and a wide grin crosses her face, “Wolffe? What brings you to my corner of paradise?” She walks over to him and bumps her fist against his, “I thought ‘vacations are beneath you’.” She mocks.

“Yeah, yeah. They are. I got a job with Doctors Without Borders, with some of my cousins.” He jabs his thumb over his shoulder, “I heard that you were living in the lap of luxury, though. White sandy beaches and fruity little drinks with umbrellas-”

She laughs, “Does this look like retirement to you, Wolfy-boy?”

“Dunno, you always loved to fly more than anything else.” He folds his arms over his chest, “Seeing you with a plane doesn’t surprise me in the slightest.” Wolffe pauses, “You know, I did hear a rumor-”

Her smile becomes slightly strained, “That I was Dishonorably Discharged and slapped with a court martial? Cause that’s not a rumor.”

“Shit, really?” She doesn’t respond and Wolffe rolls his eyes, “Come on, Bee. It’s me. What happened?”

“Gross Insubordination.” She says with a sigh, “Look, after I was transferred from Koon, I was given to Krell.”

Wolffe inhales sharply.

“Yeah.” Her laugh is slightly bitter, understandably bitter, “Well, I took issue with how he treated the men under his command and I didn’t hesitate to tell him so. So I was grounded and slapped with a court martial. And by the time Krell was removed and arrested for abusing the men under his command, everything had taken a life of its own, so I just took the Dishonorable Discharge.”

“You could have fought it.”

“Could have.” Bee agrees, “Just…the way that some of the people I’ve known for years looked at me.” She sighs and pushes her hand through her hair, “There was no point. Luckily, Plo put in a good word for me here.”

“Good thing the General likes you.”

“Tell me about it. I could do far, far worse than being a pilot for an organization as well respected as this one.” She shrugs and glances at her clipboard, “Not to mention, they’re pretty good about making sure that my prosthetics are up to par-”

“Prosthetics? What prosthetics?” Wolffe asks, his gaze snapping down her body, “Since when do you need prosthetics?”

Bee arches a delicate brow and lifts the leg of her long pants, revealing a matte gray prosthetic leg. “Parting gift from Krell.” She pauses, “Or, well, that’s my guess. I was officially injured in combat. But I’m almost positive that there weren’t any seppies on that planet-”

She pauses and takes a deep breath, dropping the leg of her pants and gestures vaguely with her clipboard, as if to say well, what can you do.

As if Wolffe needed another reason to hate Krell. Life in prison is too good for him.

“Sorry, I didn’t know. No one told me.”

“Yeah, well. It’s not as if I had very many friends left behind after the Court Martial.” She shrugs, “Anyway, what happened to your eye?”

“That blunt, huh?”

“That blunt.”

“Seppies.”

“Isn’t it always?”

Wolffe releases a humorless laugh, “Seems like it.” He leans against a crate, “Officially, I was medically discharged. Technically, I’m on medical leave for the next six months.”

“General Koon favors you.”

“Don’t I know it.” Wolffe’s gaze drags across the crates of medical supplies and other supplies, “So, who all are you transporting.”

“Well, according to my manifest-” Bee flips to a back page, “You, Rex and Gregor-” She pauses, “Is blondie over there, Rex? Shit, last time I saw him he was still in high school.”

Wolffe grins, “He’s a Captain now.”

“Ugh, I feel old.”

“You feel old? How do you think I feel?”

Bee laughs, “That’s what you get for being one of the oldest.” She glances back at her manifest, “Anyway, I’m also transporting a new nurse, her name is Raya Valencia. And a mechanic on loan from the GAR, Maty Wilson. Also, someone from the local government forced his way onto the manifest.”

“Mm, politics.”

“There’s no escaping it, I’m afraid.” Bee sets her manifest aside, “Anyway, someone will have to sit in the cockpit with me with the new addition.”

“Is that an offer, Bee?”

“What, you want a handwritten invitation?”

Wolffe laughs, “Hardly. I’ll be more than happy to sit up front with you. Maker knows we clearly have some catching up to do, LT.”

Bee grins at him, “Hardly my fault you went and got promoted to Commander and stopped associating with us minions.”

“Hey, I’ve always had a soft spot for you minion-y types.”

“Yeah, yeah,” There’s a laugh in her voice, “Beat it, Wolfy-boy. I have work to do. We’ll be lifting off in thirty.”

“I’m going, I’m going.” He tosses his bag over his shoulder and meanders on over to his cousins, as Bee turns to shout at a worker in a language he kind of recognizes.

It’s damned good to see her. Though it is a shame to hear about what happened to her.

“Making friends, Wolffe?” Rex asks with an arched brow.

“Chatting with an old friend,” Wolffe replies, “One that you know. You’ve met Bee before.”

Rex blinks, twice, and then his head snaps towards the plane, “Wait Bee? That Bee? The one we met at your graduation?”

“The one and the same.”

Rex stares in her direction, “Small world-”

“Tell me about it.”

“What happened between you two anyway?” Gregor asks, “If I remember correctly, you two were a thing-”

“Drop it.” Wolffe frowns at them, and then he sighs, “We were never a thing. I chickened out before I could ask her. And then I was promoted and it wouldn’t have worked anyway.”

“Well, she’s not in the military anymore-” Rex prods with a grin.

“Drop. It.”

“Okay, okay.” Rex holds his hands up, “Sorry. There’s no need to get snippy.”

Wolffe opens his mouth to say something, only to pause when Bee jogs over, “Alright Boys, and Girls and both and neither,” She says as she claps her hands, “The Airstrip is needed for an emergency medevac so we’re hauling out of here early. Get your stuff on board and make sure everything is secured.”

“Copy that, LT.” Rex says with a cheerful salute.

“Don’t you sass me, Rexy. I remember you as a pimply high schooler.”

“Yes, but I outgrew that. See, pimple free.” His grin widens, “You, however, are still short.”

“Get!” Bee shouts as she points at the plane, and Rex, laughing, hurries past her. And then she turns her glare on Wolffe, “How is he just as obnoxious now as he was when he was a kid?”

“It’s just his personality. Sorry, Bee.”

Bee scowls at him and then hurries off to go and find the politician, probably.

Wolffe shakes his head and joins his cousins at the plane, where he promptly smacks Rex across the back of the head, “You piss her off and I’m the one who pays for it, how’s that fair?”

Rex, for his part, doesn’t look the least bit apologetic. Which only serves to make Wolffe more annoyed with him. Still, he’s mature enough to let the situation settle as everyone climbs on the plane.

Wolffe stows his bag under some netting, and then climbs into the co-pilot’s seat, while making sure that everyone else is strapped in properly. He’s not so worried about Rex or Gregor, but the two civvies might need some help.

And then Bee is back, with an older man in tow. He’s wearing a nice suit, nicer than anything Wolffe has seen anyone wearing since he arrived here, and he’s holding a cloth over his mouth and nose.

“My dear,” The old man says in a raspy smoker’s voice, and Wolffe doesn’t even have to look at Bee to know that she rolled her eyes at the diminutive pet name, “Surely there’s someplace…private for me to sit?”

“Nope.” Bee replies, “Small transport vessel. No private rooms.” She points to an empty seat across from Gregor, next to the door, “Sit there.”

“Well, I suppose the door is the best seat.” He muses as he sits down and only fastens the belt around his waist.

“You need to fasten the-” Gregor starts.

“Young man, I know what I’m doing.” The older man interrupts with a sniff.

Bee rolls her eyes again and lightly claps Gregor on the shoulder, “Don’t worry about it.” She moves through the aisle, taking a moment to make sure that everything is secured, and then she moves into the cockpit and pulls the door shut behind her.

She tosses Wolffe a lopsided grin, and offers him the spare headset, “I know you don’t fly much anymore, Commander, but surely you can co-pilot for one flight?”

Wolffe chuckles and takes the headset, pulling it on, “Well, I suppose I’d better.” He leans back in his seat and he watches as she effortlessly goes through the pre-flight check.

Less than fifteen minutes later, the plane is in the air, and pulling away from the airfield. And Bee activates her radio, “Alright everyone, as of now, our flight will take three hours, we’re taking a circuitous route to avoid a storm-”

She’s interrupted when the radio from the back crackles to life, “Absolutely not! I refuse to spend more time in this tin can than I have to. Take a shorter route or I’ll have your job!”

Bee glances at Wolffe, and then sighs, “As you wish. Then our flight will take an hour.” She cuts the radio, and glances at Wolffe, “This is going to go horribly.”

“Maybe we’ll get lucky?” Wolffe offers.

Bee just sighs, and turns her gaze out the front window, “We won’t.”

Wolffe wakes with a pained groan. His head is throbbing.

Actually, his everything is throbbing. Including his eyelashes.

His eyes crack open and the sun, high overhead, nearly blinds him.

Wait. Sun?

Wolffe opens his eyes properly. The top of the plane is gone. He’s still strapped to his seat, luckily, and he still seems to be in the cockpit, but the roof is gone.

“Bee?” He, painfully, turns his head to the side, looking towards the pilot’s seat. Bee is still strapped in her seat, her head lolled to her chest, blood dripping from a wound on her temple. “Bee!”

She groans at his voice, “Stop yelling,” Bee’s eyes crack open and she groans, “Ow…”

“What happened?” Wolffe asks, “Do you remember?”

“I was ordered to take a shortcut, and then-”

The storm.

The clouds came from nowhere. One moment there were clear skies, and then it was like flying through a hurricane. Wolffe had been forced to actually co-pilot to help Bee keep the plane under control.

“-the door ripped off,” Wolffe remembers, vague memories of the various consoles flaring to life in front of him as the side door opened.

“Which would have caused a pressure imbalance,” Bee agrees, as she unfastens her harness and falls out of her seat, “Which would lead to-” She gestures to where the roof used to be. “You okay?”

“I think my everything is bruised.” Wolffe says as he pulls his own harness off and reaches for the door separating the cockpit from the rest of the plane.

“Better bruised than dead,” Bee replies logically as she adds her weight to the door. Together, they push the door open.

Rex and Gregor are unconscious, but clearly alive. As are the two civvies, Raya and Maty. The politician is missing.

“We’re missing one,” Wolffe notes as he checks over his cousins.

“Yeah, I don’t think we’ll find him.” Bee says, “he wasn’t wearing his harness.”

Wolffe glances at the ripped seat belt and silently concedes that she’s probably right. “We need to get them off the plane.”

“Yeah. Let’s make a path first, make sure we’re not bringing them into something more dangerous.” Bee says. “We have plenty of equipment, at least.” She adds with a wry smile.

“Small blessings.” Wolffe agrees, “Come on, Bee. Let’s see what we’re working with.”

He walks over to where the door used to be, and he hops out, with Bee hot on his heels. With luck, they’ll find someplace safe nearby.

With luck, they’ll only be here for a couple of days.

Wolffe isn’t going to hold his breath, though. He’s never been very lucky.

#star wars #tcw #star wars au #commander wolffe #captain rex #captain gregor #the wolf's pack

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