#but when push comes to shove business comes first and they are his property to do as he pleases with

[gamebunny-advance]

Random Question Time (Side B)

Note: This question is more about "feeling" than the strict and literal definitions of their relationship. Since 1010 are robots, they can't "literally" be Neon J.'s sons. This question is asking how you think their relationship functions in human terms.

See the sister poll to vote on 1010's relationship with each other.

[zyafics]

PLAY FAKE | part thirteen

MASTERLIST (series) | Rafe Cameron x Female Reader .ᐟ

Summary — When Rafe needs to secure a girlfriend for his father to see him as a viable candidate for Cameron Development, he enlists the help of a bartender who wants nothing to do with him.

Content — 18+, smut, angst, depictions of jealousy + aggression, emotional turmoil, mild descriptions of violence, and usage of drugs. Reader is hyper-independent, a people-pleaser, a smart mouth, stands on business, and has a mysterious past. Rafe is insecure, possessive, an asshole, and has mood swings.

"Are you busy?"

The phone call came at the stroke of midnight. Rafe had just gotten away from a lengthy discussion with his father regarding the open properties around Kildare and wanted nothing more than to crash out. But he answered without hesitation when your name flashed across the screen.

"No," he pauses. "Do you need me?"

You do, but you're reluctant to confirm that piece of information. Flattening your lips on the other line, you rub the back of your hand over your tired eyes as a prolonged silence engulfs the call.

But Rafe understands. With a firm I'm coming over, he disconnects the call to pick up his keys.

You've been home for a couple days now, having stayed at Tannyhill for a little over a week. However, with Sarah's return, you felt you'd overstayed your welcome and needed to part ways. Despite Rafe's protests, you insisted, needing to find your own space in the aftermath of everything.

He had hated the way you phrased it. That you needed a place without him.

When he reaches your driveway, Rafe discerns two silhouettes on your porch. Adrenaline spikes, assuming it was Aaron—and that was the reason for your distress call—but upon closer inspection, with the headlights of his car glaring in that direction, the clarity hits.

Maybank and Heyward.

His stomach twists at the realization that he wasn't your first recipient. That you went back to your roots before coming to him. Now, more than ever, Rafe has a bleeding need for some security, to be your first choice.

He doesn't like to be set in the backseat to a pair of Pogues.

Turning off the ignition, Rafe exits the vehicle just as Heyward and Maybank launch from your porch steps with rigid defense. Their eyes narrow at him in suspicion as he stalks up the long pebbled pavement.

"What are you doing here, Rafe?" Pope interrogates in lieu of a greeting.

Rafe scoffs, stuffing his hands into his pocket. "How is that any of your business, Pogue?"

JJ jumps in. "If you're here for Aaron—"

"I'm not," Rafe snaps, not liking any association with the loan shark, before admitting, "She called me."

A moment of suspense punctures the air before JJ disrupts it, shaking his head with disbelief. "Bullshit. Why the fuck would she contact a Kook?"

It's an insult, the way Maybank's lips curled with the title and Rafe huffs. He doesn't owe him any explanation and certainly won't give one. Stepping forward, Rafe attempts to enter your house, only for the two boys to block his path.

"Move," Rafe commands lowly.

Pope tries to meditate. "Look, I don't know what you're doing here, but she's been through some things and we don't want any more problems—"

Rafe doesn't bother listening to whatever else he has to say. He knows. He knows what you've been through and he's here because of it, not to add to it. But the accusation is thick on Pope's tongue, fueling his irritation. He attempts to shove past both of them, only for JJ to push back.

Shouting stirs you awake. That's a lie. You've been staring at the ceiling for the past hour, hoping it'll lull you to sleep, only for the act to be unproductive. When you start to hear sounds coming from outside, you know Rafe arrived.

Pushing past the screen door, you step out onto the porch to witness JJ and Rafe in the middle of a standoff.

Charged words thrown back and forth, you recognize the dark look behind Rafe's gaze as JJ keeps pushing Rafe's chest—one full of deep agitation, seconds away from snapping.

Your stomach flips with nausea.

"Back off, JJ," you announce sharply to the open yard, causing the trio to direct their attention to you. You briefly connect your gaze with Rafe before turning to the younger blond. "I called him."

JJ's hands drop from Rafe's chest, taking a step back, but there's a look of unsteadiness behind his gaze. Confusion spreads across his hard features while his mouth twists into an ugly scowl. "For what?"

"Does it matter?" You refute, avoiding his question. JJ cocks his head, only for you to add, "You can go home now."

JJ frowns, turning to Pope as they exchange a silent debate. When all Pope could give is a casual shrug, knowing it's your decision at the end of the day, JJ turns back to you.

"You could've let us stay," JJ reasons, throwing a harsh glance over his shoulder at Rafe. "What could a Kook do for you?"

"It's fine. He's my…" You trail off, unable to find the right words to label Rafe. Your initial ideas are too compromising. And Rafe doesn't want your relationship to be seen as complicated to the Kook public, since your interactions could circulate back to Ward. But here, in the sanction of The Cut, you know there's no intersection. No need for security. You shake your head with a tired yet reassuring smile. "It's okay. I appreciate you guys' help."

Rafe hates how you didn't say it.

With a heavy sigh, JJ nods. "Alright," he says, clapping his hands and signaling Pope to descend off the porch. They pair off as they head home and, sparing one last glance at Rafe—who's ascending up the short steps to approach you—JJ bids a final farewell. "Call us if you need anything."

Rafe's arm wraps protectively around your waist. "She won't."

You roll your eyes, shoulders relaxing from their rigid stance, as you watch their departing figures. Once they're no longer in view, you take his arm and tug him into your house.

The short stroll to your bedroom is mostly silent and Rafe takes inventory of your home for any disturbance. Since he ordered that cleaning service, your house is significantly cleaner. You had initially refused his charity but he refused to take no for an answer and you ended up with a grade-A cleaning company that polished your home from all the broken debris and dangerous hazards.

But that wasn't the problem.

When Rafe steps into your bedroom, it's an absolute mess. Pillows are skewed across the floor, your sheets wrinkled and tangled upon each other, and piles of your clothes are thrown together into a pile next to your closet. It greatly contrasts the environment outside your door.

"Shit," you mumble, embarrassment flooding through your body. You move from his touch to do some quick cleaning—throwing your pillows back on the bed, picking up dirty clothes, and tossing them into the hamper.

Abashment increases with each of your frantic steps, to the point that Rafe has to grab your elbow to stop you in place. "Hey," he says softly, lifting your gaze to his, "I don't mind."

You don't say anything. Fatigue pours into the very crevices of your bones. But despite the urge to be presentable, Rafe is a comfort. A clutch. And it's getting dangerous seeing how much you lean on him.

It's on the tip of your tongue to push him away. To tell him to go back home. But he beats you to it, glancing at the door.

"Where's your sister?" Rafe asks. "Are they okay?"

"They're fine," you answer, "They're sleeping."

You assumed Amara and Leilani would deal with the same troubles as you, but when you checked up on them, they were out like a light.

Rafe examines you carefully: the way you shift your weight from one leg to the next, the way your hands slightly tremble, and the clear indication of sleep deprivation from the darkened shades ringed around your eyes.

He understands now.

"And you're not?"

Your jaw locks before unwinding. "I'm sorry."

He wants to eradicate that phrase from your vocabulary.

"Why are you apologizing?"

"It's stupid."

"It's not stupid," he argues. "You have a problem and you called me. I'm here to help."

Rafe's words are adamant and warms your chest but guilt presses like glass against your heart. "Were you busy?"

"Doesn't matter."

You frown. But the look in his eyes is genuine and honest. You take a step back to separate from him, needing your own air. As of late, everything you own is his. "I…" You exhale a large breath, voice shaky. "I don't know. I don't know what's wrong."

"Is it because of Aaron?"

You hesitate before nodding once.

"Have you seen him?"

"No, and I think that's the problem." You expel another breath. "I'm on edge all the time. My chest feels heavy and tight and my head hurts." You pause, before choking out. "I'm just so exhausted."

Rafe closes the distance and wraps his strong arms around you as you sink into his chest. You inhale, taking in the faded smell of his cologne.

"I hate this," you mumble, balling the fabric of his shirt into fists. "I hate that I can't sleep. I hate that I'm always stressed. I hate that—" You cut yourself off, not wanting to reveal too much. Swallowing hard, you attempt to salvage your words. "I just hate that I'm like this."

Frustration oozes out of you and Rafe hates to see you in this state. However, he'll admit, having you vulnerable and open is a welcoming change. You're allowing him a chance to see a side of you no one else has the privilege to and he deeply treasures your trust.

He'll do anything to preserve it.

Rafe massages delicate circles into the small of your back, soothing the aches in your bones as you melt into his arms. "It's okay," he reassures with a sweet mumble, "I'm here. What do you need from me?"

"I just want to sleep."

"Then we'll sleep."

"No sex." You withdraw enough for him to meet your solemn gaze, "No touching. I don't want to do anything other than sleep."

"Okay." He agrees slowly, his voice is unsteady because of your accusatory tone.

"I'm serious, Rafe," you proclaim. "I know we like to mess around, but I'm too tired. I don't want to fuck tonight."

Rafe's expression is unreadable, stonewalling his emotions the moment those words slipped from your lips. Did you think he only sees you as a fuck buddy?

"I said okay," he snaps, a little sharper than intended, but you pretend not to acknowledge it. You misunderstand it as him being upset over the celibacy rule imposed tonight, but that wasn't the case.

You swallow hard, not wanting his aggression to roll over into bed. "Rafe," you begin, feeling guilty, "if you don't want to, it's fine—"

"I never said that," he cuts you off, not wanting the implication to be read that he doesn't want you here. He does. It hurts him that you think he sees you as nothing—when that's far from the truth. He just can't seem to say it. "I just..." His jaw tightens. "Let's just go to bed."

Your lips pull together into a thin line, wanting to address the issue, but deciding you cannot handle an argument tonight. Nodding, you separate from him and move to one side of the bed. Rafe does the same.

You thought Rafe would take some precaution to add distance between you but he doesn't. You can feel the overwhelming radiation of his body heat, the indication of his proximity in close range, and it causes your breath to be still.

You can't handle it. You need distance. You need space. It's too intimate otherwise, and you can't afford that.

Pulling yourself to the ledge, with your back facing Rafe, you inhale a deep set of breaths to soothe the tension in your body. To pretend you don't feel the heat of his gaze. "Goodnight."

He doesn't answer at first, before he reciprocates with a night and you close your eyes to sleep.

Rafe watches you. The first few minutes are normal, but as time passes, you can't seem to relax in your position. Twisting and turning, your eyes remain closed throughout. The only sound is the soft breaths escaping you to indicate your sleepy state—or, at least, the closest attempt at it.

His mind still lingers on your earlier words. Do you think he doesn't care about you? Beyond intimacy? Is that why you called Maybank and Heyward first?

Rafe never thought you had an issue with it. That you were perfectly content with the arrangement. But the accusation on your tongue gave a different interpretation. Do you want more? Or, is he driving himself insane with the idea of you being his and only his?

Lost in the spiral of his own thoughts, Rafe didn't even realize that you moved closer. Your back now facing the wall as one of your arms extends outward, draped across his chest.

He freezes. Rafe assumes it's an accident, something you'll retract in a matter of seconds. But when your arm reaches out again, seeking the curve of his neck, he realizes it isn't.

You want him.

Taking it as a sign, Rafe lowers himself to grab the underside of your thigh, pulling your weight onto him. The moment you're in his embrace, chest resting against his, you wrap your arms around his shoulders. And, in return, Rafe nuzzles into the open crook of your neck, inhaling your scent.

"No touching, huh?" He mumbles into the softness of your skin as a gentle taunt. But when there's nothing but the sound of shallow breaths and the emptiness of replies, Rafe realizes you truly fell asleep.

You reached for him unconsciously.

His heart races at the implication, before calming to a normal rate, matching the steady guided pace of your own breaths. His grip around your body tightens, squeezing the soft flesh because, at that moment, he doesn't ever want to let you go.

"You need me," Rafe murmurs the confirmation in the column of your throat, hoping the words would sink through. "And I need you too."

—

By morning, you're gone.

It shouldn't come as a surprise. Every time he spends the night, there's a brief hope that the outcome for the morning will be different. That you'll remain in his arms, sleeping soundly. It never happens. And despite the subtle ache in his bones from the weight of your body on top of his all night, it beats the ache in his heart.

Sighing, after washing up, Rafe exits your bedroom to discover you sitting on one of the stools. A leg propped on the flat seat, your chin rests on your kneecap while you're flipping through some old documents.

"Morning," Rafe says, falling into the space next to yours.

"Shit," you swear, nearly jumping out of your own skin, a hand covering your accelerated heart. You hadn't heard him coming. "You scared me."

"Sorry," he apologizes sincerely, his eyes scanning over your refreshed face. "You sleep okay?"

You nod, recalling the memory of this morning. Curled up on his arms, head buried in the curve of his neck, your body pressed against his. At first, you assumed Rafe had pulled you in, but that wasn't possible. He wouldn't go against your directive. It was all you.

The corner of his mouth rises at the recognition dawning on your face. Before he gets the chance to make some comment about your neediness, you cut him off. "Don't," you warn, feeling a rush of heat rising to your cheeks.

"I haven't said anything,"

"I see it on your face,"

He scoffs, but the smile remains. "You're right," he relents, leaning closer, shortening the distance between you until he's right before you. "I was thinking of it."

Your eyes catch him and the teasing glint behind his gaze, causing your breath to shorten. You expel a breath, trying to release some tension in your shoulders, before you clarify, "All we did was sleep."

"Yeah, but you slept on me," his voice drops a full octave, "Admit it, sweetheart, you want me. Why else would you want me here?"

You search his face, trying to figure out what he wants. What he's trying to get out of you. But you find nothing tangible. Refusing to put yourself in another position of vulnerability when Rafe has done nothing to balance the scale, you scale back, adding space. "I just—I needed someone I trust."

You don't acknowledge that his assertion is correct. That the one time you fell asleep peacefully was in his arms. Or, perhaps, it wasn't necessarily about trust but about him. Instead, you pretend it's something else, something vague and general, hoping one day it will.

"Someone," Rafe repeats. "Or me?"

You avoid the question.

And Rafe assumes the former.

Dropping your gaze to the files, the air stiffens into a palpable silence. Your fingers thread through the records, pretending to search for something, when all you can feel is the thumping of your heartbeat in your veins.

Rafe releases a sigh. The elation of his state quickly deflates after your rejection. Again. He doesn't know how much longer he can take before it truly destroys him. Deciding to shift the conversation elsewhere, he asks, "Do you want me to stay again?"

"No, it's fine," you shake your head, dismissing the proposition out of habit. Even though it would bring you peace, the rational side of your brain determines the distance necessary to protect yourself. Becoming too reliant on Rafe would add nothing but pain. "You can go home," you pause, considering how to lighten the mood, "I bet the mattress here sucks in comparison to your one-million thread counts, huh?"

There's a strain to your voice; a telltale sign. Rafe ignores your words and focuses on what he does best: reading your body language. With squared shoulders and an avoidant gaze, he knows your words are far from the truth. You just don't know how to ask for what you want.

So, he proposes a different question.

"But can you sleep?"

You don't answer.

"I'll stay then," he decides, as if he's reading an item off a menu. Before you get a chance to object, Rafe shifts closer, tugging the corner of a document. "What's this?"

Your mouth closes, shoulders slouching from how quickly he changes the topic. It almost makes you smile. Deciding it would be better than fighting it, you explain that you're reviewing your Sailor bank accounts to see what money you can spare without harming the business. However, the issue is that you can't seem to find any gaps.

Rafe's brows furrow together as he listens, asking permission to take a look at your statements himself. His eyes scan through the billing, before asking. "Why don't you sell the business and work elsewhere?"

"You're not funny," you declare, attempting to pull the document away, but his grip remains firm. His eyes are set on yours.

"I'm not joking," he declares. "It could help a lot. I mean, you'll earn more than what you're earning here."

He isn't wrong. At this point in time, you would profit more by working as a bartender than a business owner. But that's not the point.

"Sailor is my family's legacy," you explain, believing his question was not an attack on your qualification but rather from a strictly logical standpoint. "It and my sisters are the most important things in my life."

Rafe hums, and he doesn't add anything else. You don't know if he gets it. "Let me ask you something: why do you want Cameron Development so badly?"

He goes rigid. He's never been asked that question before. Never had to articulate his reasoning. It makes him uncomfortable to be interviewed—especially if it's to you of all people. "I don't know," he declares noncommittally, glancing at his lap, "I always assumed I would get it. I'm the oldest."

You shake your head. Not out of mistrust, but because you know him. Rafe isn't as simple-minded as the rest of Kildare likes to believe. There has to be more. "I don't believe that," you say gently, "Try again."

His expression morphs into a charming smile. A facade to hide. "Do I get something if I talk?"

You roll your eyes. "It's always sex with you, isn't it?"

His smile drops, but you don't pick it up. He shouldn't have said that, but it's too late. Your expression is easygoing and loose, a detachment to your words as if you truly believe and accept that perception of how he views you.

Instead of addressing his feelings, he tries to articulate what he meant before.

"I don't know," Rafe starts again, in a low mumble, his voice more vulnerable than it was moments prior. "Business was the one thing I got. I... I didn't excel in academics and I didn't like sports that much. But with Cameron Development, it was the one thing me and my dad could sit down and talk about and I didn't feel like a big disappointment to him."

He never said those words out loud before, and the confession sounds pathetic, but the way your eyes soften and your head nods along as you listen with no judgment, it gives him the confidence to continue forward.

"I... I get it, you know? The numbers don't scare me and the logic makes sense. It's the one thing I have going for me and to know that my dad is considering giving it to Sarah... It hurts. Like, she has everything and I can't even have the one thing I'm good at."

His voice cracks at the end, and his gaze has since dropped to the floor, hands messing and rubbing the calloused skin of the other.

You reach forward to cup the side of his face, and lift his head, meeting his sensitive gaze. "It isn't fair," you run the pad of your thumb over his cheekbone, trying to soothe the ache of his admission. "It truly isn't. I wish I could make it better for you."

Too gentle. Too loving. In the comfort of your touch, Rafe speaks before he can stop himself. "Sometimes I think if I have you, I'll be fine with the world."

Your breathing stills. Rafe did too. You don't know if you misheard him, or if he's implying something else, but before you can seek clarification, the doorbell rings.

"I'll get it." Rafe swiftly pulls away, moving to the exit. His hands clench by his side, teeth grinding, regret coursing through his veins at the mistake of letting his emotions overtake him back there.

He shouldn't have said that.

When he opens the door, without checking the peephole, JJ stands behind it.

"Oh, you're still here," JJ declares with a hint of bewilderment. "Didn't think she kept dogs past noon."

Rafe's already on edge from the previous conversation that he has little patience for the Pogue. Seconds away from slamming the door on Maybank's smug face, you appear by Rafe's side, stopping him and inviting JJ in. He steps into your living room, holding something in his hands.

"What's that?" You point to the crumpled note, before recognizing his nervous stance. JJ's bouncing on the heel of his feet, avoiding your gaze, and when you repeat your question, more firmly this time, he reluctantly holds the note out.

"Someone left this at your bar," JJ explains as you take it. Your eyes quickly scan the message, your heart sinking with every word you read. "It's a warning. If you don't... If you don't pay him back in full tomorrow, he'll do something to your bar."

Rafe's watching your reaction with a hardened look. His eyes keep sliding over to JJ, the Pogue being the messenger of the news—the one you sought help from before—and the blond feels the heat of his stare on him. Consequently, it forces JJ to grab your elbow and pull you off to the side, away from Rafe.

JJ begins. "Look, I know you don't wanna do it, but my dad knows a guy—"

"No."

"He's been through with Aaron before," he whispers back sharply, "It might be the only option you have."

"And get stuck in the same shit I had with Aaron? No," you declare firmly, reading the note again. It does nothing to soothe the heightened nerves in your body. The way panic is ricocheting inside your stomach like a ping-pong ball.

JJ says nothing, the absolute behind your tone quiets him. While you're preoccupied with another read-through, JJ glances back to where Rafe stands.

"I gotta ask," JJ starts again, lowering his voice so only you can hear. You lift your head from the note, meeting his curious gaze, with a raise of your brow. "Rafe? Seriously?"

While you're trying to figure out how to maintain your livelihood, JJ is concerned about your love life.

"Is this really the time and place?"

"I'm serious, what do you see in him?"

"Drop it, JJ."

"I just don't understand," he continues in a whisper, but his volume raises slightly, "I swear, you're a pretty girl. You can do 10x better than him—"

"JJ," you command sternly, all amusement vanishes. "Drop it."

"Fine," he stays, stepping back with both hands partially raised to his collar. He doesn't turn to catch another glimpse at Rafe, but instead, offers the same advice as he did before. "If you need my help, you know where to find me."

Rafe watches as the Pogue leaves, stepping out to your porch and closing the door behind him. But his breath remains ragged. He caught the last bit of JJ's hushed words, and as much as he wanted to be sensible, he didn't like it.

You're different than Rafe, he understands that. You have a support system, a list of other people, and sometimes—as much as he hates to admit—they are better than him. Less volatile. Less emotional.

But it feels like you're pushing him away. Placing him as a last line of defense for all your troubles. The insecure parts of him are roaring—louder than his rational thoughts can ever be—telling him that he's the last choice. The last option.

He can't help but wonder. If Leilani hadn't called him, would you have? Or would it be JJ or Pope?

Rafe rounds the couch to approach you, his hand circles your wrist holding the note. Your head lifts to meet his harsh gaze.

"You don't need his help," he declares gruffly, "I could've done it."

You blink. "What?"

"The note at the bar," he gestures to the crumpled paper in your hands, before dropping his to his side, clenching down to a fist. "I could've taken care of it."

"I... I didn't ask him. He did it himself."

Rafe isn't convinced. "And last night with Maybank and Heyward, that was all them too?"

His tone is sharp and accusatory, leaving you lightheaded as you stare at him. You're still wrapped up around the threatening note, but Rafe is somewhere else. A different topic. Another issue. You can't seem to gauge what type of response you need to have. And in turn, you give him silence.

His anger rises. "Am I just your second choice? Your fucking backup plan because those Pogues don't cut it?"

Your head is spinning, and you attempt to pull away from his grip but he tightens it. "Rafe," you start slowly, your breathing quickens, "What are you talking about?"

Are you being ignorant on purpose? Are you trying to drive him mad? His fury erupts, flooding all his senses.

"Them!" Rafe points to the door, where JJ left moments ago. "Last night. Everything. Did you ask them before you asked me?"

It's starting to catch up. "Are you serious?"

"I told you that we'll figure it out together."

"I—" Your throat burns. You can't believe he's letting his jealousy about your friends come at a perilous stage in your life. Exhaling a sharp breath, you meet his stare head-on. "They appointed themselves to that role. I never asked that of them."

After Pope discovered the break-in, JJ and him formed a pact to take it upon themselves to watch over you while you're home. They traded off shifts, entertaining themselves on the porch where they set up a makeshift couch and hammock to crash. You had tried to convince them you were fine, but they were stubborn. They wouldn't listen. And at the time, you appreciated the extra protection.

But it didn't work. You couldn't sleep. You still needed him.

Does he not get that?

Rafe scoffs, shaking his head with contempt, "You never ask for anything."

"Are you really trying to start a fight right now?"

"Are you making it a fight?"

"They're my friends, Rafe," you emphasize, "I told you that."

"I'm not talking about that."

"Then what is it?"

His jaw is set, resistance churning through his system to shut the fuck up, but he can't hold it in. He finds himself asking, half in plead, half in confession, "What am I?"

You weren't expecting that. Your lips part, but no words follow through. His hard gaze is on you, waiting for an explanation, but you don't answer fast enough. It's killing him. His next words are a shimmering calm, in a deadly whisper, "Do you think I only want you for sex?"

Your heart squeezes in your chest, taking all your air alongside it. You think you lost your ability to speak, but when you do, it comes out small. "Don't you?"

You're turning the question back onto him, and he hates it. He's trying to get the words out of you, to see where he stands, but neither of you is willing to take that step. It reduces him to silence.

You can't believe it. He can ask, but he can't answer. Frustration fills you, searing hot and explosive. You don't stop yourself from saying, "Because last I remember, whenever you had a problem, you came over to fuck." You snap, your emotions rising to a crescendo, "And when I asked you what we are..." You trail off, losing your voice. The sting of his label still hasn't passed.

But he knows what you're referring to.

"That's different."

"How?"

Rafe doesn't speak. All he knows is it's different. He has feelings for you. Before he refused to acknowledge it, now, it's bleeding into everything he touches. Everything he does. He just can't seem to say it.

"That was before."

Your brows pull together, your anger pulsating through your veins. "Before what? Before Aaron broke into my house?"

"No," he declares, his response is a knee-jerk reaction, but it wasn't the right one. Attempting to rectify, Rafe stammers, "Well, yes, but it's just... It's..."

Why can't he fucking tell you?

He's afraid of being first.

"It's pity?" You supply, not bothering to conceal the hurt in your tone. "Everything is just pity?"

"No!" He exclaims, but it isn't right. It still isn't good enough.

"Then what is it?" You demand, trying to get a hold of your emotions. But you're seconds away from screaming, or crying, or both. You rip your hand from Rafe's grip, taking a step back to conserve yourself.

His gaze falls to his empty hands, his emotions choking him. Every attempt at saying the right words causes him to shrink, feeling small, feeling like a child reaching for their parent's love, only to be pushed aside and dismissed. His walls are for protection, but it destroys as much as it save him.

Rafe decides to settle on something easy. "I'm your boyfriend."

"Fake," you correct.

"Does this feel fucking fake to you?"

You reel back. All your anger dissipates. All your resentment, hurt, and frustration disappear once those words leave his lips. And you're left with a burning clarity. Your chest constricts, your heart hammering. But you can't seem to answer him. You want him to say it first. "You tell me."

Rafe can't. It took all of him to admit such a thing.

You watch him with bated breath, but only to be disappointed again. His dark blue eyes are piercing, rich with emotions, but none of them are vocalized. None are honest. You can’t do this. You can’t go through another second of this uncertainty. You’re tunneling towards heartbreaking misery. So, you turn to leave.

But Rafe catches your wrist and pulls you back. His lips slam into yours, knocking the wind from your lungs.

He pours everything into this kiss; all his desperation, vulnerability, and truth. His action demonstrates everything his words can’t. And while you reciprocate with the same passion, reality grounds you, and you draw back, shaking your head. “Rafe—“

He kisses you again. Hoping it’s enough. Begging it to be. He can’t say it. He doesn’t know why he can’t fucking say it. He wants this to be enough.

You push back again, and this time, his arm wraps around your waist, trapping you in his embrace. You’re breathing hard as Rafe stares down at you while you’re looking at his chest.

He says your name. You refuse to look up.

He says it again. More firmly. You don’t acknowledge.

“Sweetheart,” he finally says, softening his words, and you find yourself crying. Tears crowd your waterline as you shake your head, refusing to be persuaded by the sweet sound of your endearment.

“No,” you choke out, slamming a weak fist against his chest. “Let me go. I can’t—I don’t—I’m not doing this.”

You finally tilt your head up to look at him. The way he stares at you with such tenderness. You can’t seem to discern it from pity. “I can’t.” You sob, “If this is how you’re playing me, I can’t keep doing this anymore. You’re breaking my heart.“

Then it finally hits him.

All your resistance. It was never rejection. It was the complete opposite. Coupled with the same fears he had; the same emotions he didn’t know how to express. He’s been so blind to it.

He should’ve known. He should’ve read it the same way he’s been reading everything else.

It finally gave him the confidence nothing else has.

“I fucking love you.”

You are completely still. You think you're hearing him wrong, that this is just a way of your brain deluding you and calming your irrational state of mind, but it's real. Your lips part, breathing shallow, all while you're staring back into Rafe's eyes.

He's afraid. Rafe doesn't trust his own instincts. Everything about you makes him question himself. And while he gained a fleeting moment of courage, he doesn't know if it will follow through. On the off-chance that, despite all this, all the signs he read, he was wrong and it will be rejection.

"Say it back," Rafe whispers in a plea. It's pathetic, but he no longer cares. "Say it back or I'm going to lose my fucking mind."

"You love me?" You breathe in a whisper, unable to move on from this moment. Rafe squeezes his eyes shut, swallowing thickly, before nodding once.

“I think I loved you since I first met you,” he confesses. “I just didn’t know it yet.”

“You’re not just saying that?”

Rafe bristles, “You think I go around telling people I love them?” He declares, studying your expression, trying to gauge your reaction, but it’s hard when he’s blinded by the crippling fear that you don’t feel the same. “You think I do this for anyone?”

“I don’t know,” you admit, “I just don’t want you to say something you don’t mean.”

“I do mean it,” he declares, his voice suddenly dry, as he finds your gaze. “I… I’m sorry for before when I said things I didn’t mean. I don’t want you just for sex, I don’t see you as just a fuck buddy. I’m… I’m in love with you, and it’s fucking difficult to tell you that.”

Your lips purse together, but you still don’t answer him. Don’t confess your own side. Instead, you ask in a meek voice, “Since the beginning?”

He huffs. He can’t believe he’s admitting so much today. Revealing things he swore he’d keep hidden behind a locked box. But when he finds the light returning in your eyes, trying to gauge more of his reaction, read his true meaning, finding comfort in his words, he’ll rip out his own soul to keep it there. “Since the beginning. When you called me out, when you patched me up, when you slapped me—“ That bit makes you let out a small laugh, “I don’t think I was going to meet anyone who challenges and accepts me the way you do.”

You don’t say anything for the next few moments. And they were the longest seconds of his life. Rafe had to speak, “And if it’s just me, if I’m the only person who feels this way, I’ll find a way to be okay with that—“

You cut him off with a kiss.

“I love you,” you breathe into his lips, wrapping your arms around his neck, “I love you,” you jump, curving your legs around his hips as Rafe catches you, steadying you with two hands tantalizing skimming the curve of your ass. “Fuck, Rafe, I love you so much.”

His heart fills with your words. Your desperation clinging to each puncture. He grins into the kiss, before he deepens it, tasting you, stealing your air. Everything feels right. Feels good. When Rafe separates to break the kiss, he catches the residue smile on your face and the little daze behind your eyes. He snaps a memory of it and saves it forever.

But, just as it came, it slowly faded away. Reality quickly dawns on you, and your arms tightens around Rafe’s neck, reminders and deadlines creeping up your skin. Your confession comes out small. “I… I’m scared. With Aaron and everything.”

“Sweetheart…”

“I don’t have the money, Rafe,” your eyes connect with his. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

Rafe pulls you in, flushed against his chest as your head lays on his shoulders and his hand strokes your hair. It takes a moment for him to process, to remember the world outside of you. But, when he does, he whispers, “I’m going to take care of it,” his voice so low, it almost comes out as a threat. “I’ll take care of you.”

And he will.

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[mysuperiors]

When you arrived at the hotel room to meet your master for the first time in person, he told you to get undressed down to your t-shirt and underwear and socks.

He told you to kneel on the floor. He bound your hands tightly behind your back with rope. He then told you how the session would go.

“First, I’m going to rape your wallet in front of you. Then I am going to humiliate you and break down any sense of dignity you have. Then I am going to inflict pain. You are permitted to cry during that part, but you have to keep your voice down. The pain may be severe at times, but there will not be any blood. After the pain comes my pleasure. I will either fuck you in the mouth or the ass, depending on what I’m feeling like at that point. Then you will get the ultimate reward for your service at the end. We will take a shower and you will be permitted to wash my body. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Sir,” you whispered.

He then took your wallet out of your pants. He took out a Visa card and held it up to your face and asked you, “Who does this belong to?”

“You, Sir.”

“That’s right.” He took out his phone and showed you that he was opening the Uber app and adding the credit card to it.

He took out your AMEX and pressed it hard against your forehead. “Who does this belong to?”

“You, Sir.”

He spent a couple minutes on his phone. You watched his muscular forearms as he was tapping away. He showed you the screen. Two round-trip business class flights to Greece and a stay at a luxury hotel in Mykonos. “I’m going to fuck my girlfriend every night and you’re paying. The total is over $15,000.”

This made you anxious and you started to well up with tears.

“I did not give you permission to cry while I rape your wallet,” your Master warned ominously.

“Yes, Sir. I apologize, Master. Thank you for using my credit card for your pleasure.”

He smirked and took the cash out of your wallet. “Who does this belong to?”

“You, Sir.”

He laughed and stepped over to you, his muscular body towering over you. “Open your mouth, slave.”

You did as he commanded, and he shoved the cash in your mouth. “Do not forget. I am your owner, and not your whore. You have no control here. I am in total control of you. You are nothing but a faggot slave. The only reason you exist is to amuse me and serve me and to earn money for me. You are property. MY property.”

He gave you a little slap on the cheek. Not so hard as to be painful. But also not playful. It was a bullying sort of slap. A dressing down. He grabbed your hair and pushed your face down to the floor. “Kiss my shoes. Lick them clean. While you do that, I’m going to buy myself a new pair.”

Once he bought his new Nike runners he showed you the screen—another $300 was gone—he took a couple gift cards from your wallet and pocketed them and tossed the wallet on the floor.

He unbuttoned his shirt and took it off and laid it on one of the two double beds in the room. His enormous, smooth muscular torso looked incredible. He cracked his knuckles and stood you up.

“I am ready to move onto the pain portion. Remember, you have permission to cry...”

[strangersteddierthings]

The Conversation

Final Part of The Interview [Part One] [Part Two] [Ao3]

Steve finishes putting on his boots, shoves a beanie on his head, and grabs his thermos of coffee before heading outside. Robin had texted when they left Pendleton so they should be arriving soon, and he wants to make sure the dogs stay clear of the driveway, and also finish some of the chores he is being lazy about. The mountain air is cold in February, and the snow is deep, but it's still warm for a winter day in Eastern Oregon.

His childhood house had been at the edge of a little forest. His current home is tucked away in the woods, trees for miles, and the nearest neighbor farther still than that. He's lived a lot of places, been able to see the whole of America almost, and in the process, he's learned that he'll always be a small-town boy. The real revelation is how at home he feels in this two-bedroom cabin sequestered away from any town at all. Sure, he's got to drive a little over half an hour to get to the nearest grocery store, but he's learned he likes that.

He's got 1600 acres of woods all to himself and the dogs. He's owned this property for almost four years, but recent events made him finally move out here. Originally, he'd bought it to make it as another flip project, but something in his gut told him to make it a vacation home / safe haven for his family instead. Robin, mainly, as a getaway from the LA life and overwhelming spotlight she'd started to face as her music career took off. He might be turning it into his permanent home and base of operations, but everyone knows they're still welcome.

Anyway, the day might be warm for winter, but the night won't be, so Steve sets his thermos on the top of the wooden railing of the porch and heads down the steps to the woodshed. The plan in the summer is to update the cabin, which includes adding central air and a good heating system, but until then, portable heaters are in the bedrooms and the wood stove gets the rest of the cabin. There's also plans to start the construction on the guest house. It's going to be a busy summer.

He replenishes the woodpile on the porch from the woodshed and debates chopping more but decides against it. That can be a tomorrow chore. Next is cleaning up the snow paths he's made previously. Doesn't want anyone falling on their ass on the way to the house, no matter how funny that'll be to watch. As usual, Pancake makes the task difficult because she wants to play with the snow shovel. Melody cries until he throws snow into the air by the shovel full for her to play in. Chowder, old man that he is, supervises from the porch, front paws hanging just off the top step.

It's rough going but he manages to complete the few chores, even with two dogs underfoot.

Steve is on the front porch, forearms holding his weight as he leans against the railing, thermos of coffee between his hands, taking in the afternoon sun and enjoying the silence when Dustin's work truck slides into the driveway. Almost literally, given the foot and a half of snow still on the ground. The driveway is long, okay. Steve's doesn't have enough time in his day to keep up with salting it all.

It'll be strange to see Eddie after all these years. He still can't believe Robin got him to come. When he'd asked how she did it, she brushed him off with an it's not important.

Speaking of Robin, she's the first person out of the truck, sliding out of the passenger seat and then cursing when she drops right into the snow. She shoots an accusatory look towards the cabin, and therefore Steve, like he placed the snow there himself, when the fault is Dustin, who has left the driver side with plenty of room between the truck and the snowbank.

Dustin gets out of the truck and Steve faintly hears him say this side, man, less snow before pushing his door closed and turning to brace himself as Pancake and Melody rush from the porch to circle like sharks, barely restraining themselves from jumping up. Chowder follows after slowly, taking his sweet time getting to Robin, his favorite human. Steve can't even be jealous about that because Robin is his favorite human, too.

The back driver side door opens, and he watches as Eddie Munson all but falls out of the truck. It's the least graceful anyone's looked getting out of the back of the truck and that's counting Chowder and his old man hips. Seeing Eddie again is- well, it's a lot of emotions all at once, but they're are all overshadowed at the moment by how Eddie looks... well, bad. His hair is longer than Steve's ever seen it, a little longer than mid-back length, but it looks like it hasn't seen a proper hair brush in a couple of days. Even from this distance Steve can see the bags under his eyes. He looks like he hasn't slept in days.

He pushes himself off the railing and meanders down the two steps, waiting for them to notice he's waiting. Robin trudges out of the snow berm and to the front of the truck, where Chowder is waiting patiently for his pets and kisses. Dustin has managed to get Melody to stop hopping in front of him so she can get her side scratches, and Pancake has realized there is a new, third person with a set of hands currently not petting her, and is circling Eddie, waiting for him to reach down and pet her but he just stands completely still, heading tracking her in her circles.

"She's friendly, I promise," Steve calls out, which makes Eddie's head snap up to look for the source of the voice. Well, everyone looks, but Eddie looks like he's seeing a ghost, which. Fair. Steve kind of feels the same way.

"Hello, Dingus," Robin calls as she stands from her crouched position, where she's been cuddling Chowder. As soon as she stands, he starts making his way back to the porch. "I have delivered one Edward Keaton Munson. You are not allowed to ask anything of me for, at minimum, a year."

"Steve! Why didn't you tell me you knew the Eddie Munson?" Dustin shouts.

Robin is scoffing, clearly offended. "Am I not famous enough for you Henderson!?"

"Get back to me when you've run a 24-hour Dungeons and Dragons live stream for charity!" Dustin shoots back, then has to dodge Robin's half-hearted punch aimed for his arm.

Eddie stays silent, looking more pale than when he got out of the truck. Steve's a little concerned he's going to faint.

"You been living under a rock, Dustin?" Steve asks. "My knowing him is apparently the only thing on the internet currently."

Dustin puts his whole head into the eye roll. "You spend a month backpacking with your girlfriend in the southern hemisphere and you never get to hear the end of it. I told you I'd catch up on your drama after I catch up on my DnD Live Plays."

"You also missed me winning a Grammy, you know."

"I thought Steve's thing was more important?"

"You are impossible, Henderson."

"You guys going to argue in the snow all afternoon, or do you want to come inside?" Steve says then places his fingers in his mouth and whistles. Melody and Pancake dash for the front door, where Chowder is already waiting. Dustin, Robin, and a still eerily quiet Eddie fall into line to walk the trail to the porch Steve had cleared.

Steve jumps the steps, grabs his thermos, lets the dogs in, and then holds the door for everyone else. Robin and Dustin breeze past, but Eddie slows, eyes jumping around Steve's face as they just look at each other for a moment. Eddie opens, then closes, then opens, then closes his mouth.

"Hi," Steve offers up, shifting a foot to hold the door open so he can wave his fingers at Eddie.

Eddie swallows thickly, then whispers back, "hey."

"In the house, Eddie. Don't want to let too much cold in," Steve tilts his head towards the doorway.

"Oh, right, sorry," that kick starts Eddie again and he crosses the threshold, Steve close behind.

Robin and Dustin are currently occupying the bench just inside the door, taking off their shoes. Once Dustin has his boots off, he leaves the bench, heading to the kitchen. Eddie seems lost, just standing in the entryway, so Steve takes the spot Dustin just left and proceeds to undo the laces on his boots. He gets one boot done by the time Robin stands, wandering after Dustin once she's hung up her coat, scarf, and gloves. Eddie doesn't move still, so Steve pats the empty spot beside him.

"No shoes in the cabin. Dogs track in enough snow, don't need us doing it too," Steve says, then busies himself with his other boot.

He sees Eddie sit and begin to untie his- jesus, he's not even wearing boots. Just a black pair of sneakers. Eddie unties his shoes in silence, sitting rather stiffly next to Steve.

This quiet, obedient Eddie is not what he expected.

"You want something to drink?" Steve asks, once both of them are free of their shoes.

"No, thank you."

"Alright. Have a seat, then," he gestures towards the couch. The cabin door opens up directly into the living area, which Steve has set up as 3/4th a living room and 1/4th dining room, in that a small kitchen table is along the far wall. Beyond that wall is the kitchen, where Robin and Dustin are undoubtedly helping themselves to his coffee or hot chocolate.

Eddie shuffles off to sit on the edge of the couch, as close to the armrest as he can get. Now that Steve can see him closer, he can see he's added more piercing to his face than just the eyebrow ring he wore in high school. Snake bites, a septum piercing, and a second eyebrow ring next to the original. He's sure that if Eddie's hair wasn't covering his ears, he'd see more metal there. Eddie had hung up the coat he'd been wearing but under that is a hoodie he didn't take off, so Steve can only guess if he ever got those tattoos he'd been planning in high school. His entire outfit is black, which just makes him look sickly in the cabin lighting.

Steve drops himself into the chair facing the couch. It's Melody's favorite chair to curl up in, but Steve thinks she'll forgive him for taking it. There's tension in the room, so he tries to break it. "You look like you've seen a ghost, dude."

Eddie makes a weird nose, almost a whimper or a whine, but before he can say anything, Robin rounds the wall, holding a mug of hot liquid and she says, "Oh, I'm sure he feels that he has. I didn't tell me we were coming to see you."

"Robin!" Steve is shocked.

"What? You said you wouldn't mind getting some closure, so I got him here. Does it matter how?" She takes a seat on the opposite end of the couch from Eddie, making a show of how comfortable she is in the space by sitting cross-legged and leaning back against the couch, in comparison to Eddie who is sitting up completely straight, barely on the couch with how close to the edge he's sitting.

"Yeah, it does! If he's not here voluntarily- if Eddie doesn't want to talk to me you can't-"

"I do," Eddie says. It grabs Steve and Robin's attention and Steve sees Eddie almost wilt under their twin stares. He clears his throat before continuing, "I mean, I would have come still, if she'd told me. I do want to talk to you. Apologize for.... for everything. So much I don't even know where to begin, or how."

"Uhh, this feels like something personal," Dustin says from where he's standing with his own mug, hovering nearby. "Should I be here for this?"

Good question. Steve doesn't care if Robin and Dustin hear what they talk about, but Eddie might. "How about we just relax a bit. How was the drive?"

Eddie scrunches his face, a half confused expression on his face.

"Fine," Robin says at the same time Dustin says, "Tense as fuck."

"Those two things don't seem like they match," Steve says.

Dustin moves to plop himself on the couch in between Eddie and Robin, then quietly curses as his drink sloshes over the edge of the mug. He starts mopping at it with the sleeve of his shirt as he says, "Robin is a liar. The tension in the truck is going to linger that's how bad it was. I'll be feeling the tension every time I get in the rig. Clients will feel the tension when I pull up to their curbs!"

"It was not that bad!" Robin swats Dustin. Successfully this time, since there's no way for him to dodge unless he wants to spill his drink again.

Steve just laughs. "Robs, light of my life, mate of my soul, knowing you and your grudges, Dustin's probably going easy on the description of the tension here."

"Well, there wouldn't be tension if I was allowed to say what I want to say."

"Can we go, like, five minutes without your negativity?"

"My negativity!? I'm not negative, I'm rational and level-headed!"

"You are not sounding very level-headed right now."

Dustin chimes in, "Steve's right. Level-headed people don't have to shout that they're level-headed."

"What say you, Eds?" Steve asks, the old nickname slipping out. He doesn't have time to be embarrassed about it though.

Eddie stands quickly and flings his hands in the air, having reached an invisible limit Steve is unaware of, pacing about the living room as he basically shouts, "Why don't you hate me!? You should hate me! I hate me! I can't- why are you just sitting there, trying to have a-a decent conversation with me? You should be screaming at me! You should be mad! Why aren't you? My fuckin' song ruined your life!"

The silence in the living room is heavy following that, all eyes on Eddie. Even the dogs, who had been in various states of sleep, lift their heads and look in Eddie's direction.

He looks mortified by the out burst, and his face turns red. "I-I'm sorry. I- I'm just, I'm sorry. I need air."

They all watch silently as Eddie jams his shoes back on and goes out the front door without tying them or grabbing his coat.

Steve sighs, deep and annoyed. At Robin and himself. He looks to Robin and she looks shocked by Eddie's outburst. She was watching the door, but turns her head to meet Steve's eye, a small frown on her face.

"Well, it's not like he's going far," Dustin says. "You going after him?"

"I don't know if I should."

Dustin scoffs. "Don't be an idiot, of course you should. We drug that guy to the middle of nowhere to talk to you. He agreed to come to the middle of nowhere even though I could have been a hit man hired by Robin to off him in the woods and he didn't even complain. Didn't even question. I don't know what happened, but I think you two need talk it over."

Steve blinks at Dustin. "Since when did you get so wise?"

"I've always been wise. You just refuse to see it with your ageism. Go. Robin can fill me in on the beef, here in the toasty, cozy cabin, while you two chat in the cold, and freeze your asses off."

"I don't have ageism-"

"Wrong argument to be having, Steve!" Dustin interrupts. "And take another cup of coffee with you. Even if he doesn't drink it, dude doesn't have gloves either so y'know, warm the hands."

Steve does just that. Fills his other thermos with coffee, taking a chance by adding cream and sugar, before putting his boots, coat, and beanie back on. He throws Eddie's coat over his arm and tucks both thermos' against his body with that same arm so he can have a free hand to open the door.

Eddie isn't far. He's pacing back and forth in front of the truck, talking to himself.

Taking a deep breath to steel himself, Steve steps off the porch and makes his way to Eddie. "Hey."

The pacing stops and Eddie turns to look at Steve. They just look at each other as Steve approaches. Steve doesn't stop until he's close enough to reach out and touch before he shuffles the two thermos's to his other arm and extends the one with Eddie's coat on it out.

"Thank you," Eddie says, taking the coat and shoving himself into it quickly.

"Brought you coffee, too," Steve holds out one thermos and after a pause, Eddie takes it, too, then almost instantly brings his other hand up to cradle it, warming his fingers.

He looks up from the thermos and meets Steve's eye. "I am sorry, Steve. I'm sorry for how things ended between us, and for the song I wrote, and for-for not thinking about how people would be able to work out that you were the Steve from Hey Steve. You should hate me for that alone. I'm so sorry for everything that's happened because I didn't think of the consequences."

"I don't- I don't hate you man. Not... not anymore. Not for a long time."

"Well, you should!"

Steve frowns. He wants to argue because who is Eddie to tell him how he should feel? But that's not going to help anything. "When Robin called me. During her interview after the Grammy's and asked if she could tell the truth I never- I didn't know what she meant by the truth. But. Well, nothing she said was a lie, but it wasn't the full story."

Eddie stays silent, seemingly waiting for Steve to continue.

"Those first two years after our breakup were- I'm not going to lie, they were fucking awful. I think I received my first bit of hate mail the very same day Hey Steve released. It was harsh. All from the same person, but sent to my Facebook and my Twitter and Instagram. Guess they really wanted me to read it.

"And then, with each passing day, a new person, new message, just as awful. After three days I deleted Instagram and Twitter. Then I locked down Facebook but like- physical letters showed up at my house. I can't lie, it certainly felt like you'd ruined my life."

Eddie makes a wounded sound at that. "That's because I did! What I did was unforgivable and-"

"You don't get to decide for me if I forgive you or not!" Steve snaps. "I haven't actually said I did forgive you, did I? All I've said is I don't hate you."

That gets Eddie quiet again for a moment, then he says, "you ended up hospitalized because of me."

"Robin said I ended up hospitalized, and that's true, but it wasn't- It was more complicated that just being your, and your fans', fault. For people who were supposedly on 'your side' of our breakup, they used a lot of homophobic language. That's how my mom found out. The letters were easy enough to just get rid of because all the bad shit was on the inside, but someone sent a post card, and mom collected the mail that day. It's... I don't like talking about this."

"Then don't," Eddie is quick to say, "you don't have to explain anything to me, or make yourself relive these events. It's- you don't owe that to me."

"I think I need to. I wrote you a song, said I'd do it all again, and I meant that. I want you to understand why. Just. Just give me a minute."

Eddie nods and takes a sip of his coffee. He looks pleasantly surprised and takes bigger drink before his face falls into a frown as he stares down at the thermos and Steve has to look away. He turns and squeezes his eyes shut to continue. "Mom showed the postcard to my father, and he confronted me that evening. It was.... it didn't start off bad. He asked if it was true. That I was gay. I made a choice, then. I didn't have to; I could have lied. I could have told him I was straight and that I didn't understand what the postcard was saying, but I didn't.

"I knew how he felt about queer people, and I told him the truth anyway. I was bisexual. I thought it was a miracle that he didn't kick me out instantly. Instead, he calmly asked me if that meant I liked woman. I said it meant I liked more than just woman.

"Then he told me that didn't matter. That so long as I liked woman, I would be with a woman, and that we never had to speak of this again. And I told him no. He didn't get to decide that for me. He said that he would rather have a dead son than a faggot one. And I thought- I never- surely he was just meaning, like, metaphorically, right? Like, he'd disown me, kick me out or something so I scoffed and said- God, I was so stupid. I knew it wasn't safe, but I was so angry at him, I shouted 'dead or alive, I'm your faggot son so deal with it.' And he- he said 'dead it is' and he attacked me."

He hears Eddie suck in a breath, hears the crunch of snow in what could only be Eddie taking a step towards him but stopping after just one step. Steve doesn't know if he wants Eddie to close the distance and give him the hug he knows Eddie wants to do. Steve doesn't know if he'd welcome the embrace or not. He sucks in his own shaky breath, and continues, "He almost beat me to death that night. The only reason he didn't was because mom dialed 911," Steve turns around, looks at Eddie and sees the tears falling down his own face reflected on Eddie. "As far as I know, dad's still serving time for his attempted murder, so like, at least I don't have to worry about him. And mom... I don't even know what to think of that.

"She called 911, didn't want to see me die, I guess, but also couldn't have a gay son. She sold the house, and everything in it, while I was still in the hospital, and just... disappeared. Robin's family took me in. She told that story during the interview, you knoe, but I wasn't even at the house when that guy with the gun showed up. I was meeting with a lawyer.

"She-Mom was- I don't know what she was trying to do but she gave me the family business. The whole company! It felt like she was trying to buy my forgiveness, except she didn't ask for it and still hasn't contacted me. It's like... she felt guilty about what happened but hated me at the same time. Felt she needed to do something to alleviate her guilt? Or maybe she just wanted to cut herself free of the whole Harrington name; free herself from me and my father. I don't think I'll ever get closure for that one."

Steve quits talking, needs to take another moment. He'd already rambled on about more than he meant to but talking to Eddie had always done that to him. Afterall, before they dated, they'd been friends. He sips at his coffee, not knowing what else to say.

"Jesus, Stevie, I'm so sorry. I didn't know- It's no excuse but I'm just so sorry."

He doesn't think Eddie knows he called him Stevie, but it's nice to hear. "So, see, it wasn't your fault. Your song set things into motion, for sure, so it's nice to hear an apology, but like, if anyone is the bad guy in this situation, it's Richard Harrington."

"But Robin said she just had to help you move to here. That you still get hate mail, and doxxed. That's on me. I saw your list of addresses, Steve! You've had to move, like, eight times a year!"

Steve can't help the cackle that springs from him. He surprises himself with the laugh, and Eddie, too, if his wide eyes and eyebrows hidden behind his bangs are any indication. "I- yeah, I move a lot. And yes, this most recent move was because of a brick with Hey Steve scratched into it broke my living room window, but like, I've only had to move because of harassment like, four times, if I'm counting the whole mom-selling-the-house thing."

"What?"

Steve holds up a finger, adding a new one as he counts them out. "Mom sold house. Scary gun guy at Robin's. The year anniversary of your first album's release. I was still in Hawkins, figuring out what to do with all the money I'd, uhh, inherited I guess, so I was easy to find. And the most recent one. Not sure what inspired it this time. Usually, the hate mail resurges when you go on tour, but it's less and less every time. Anyway, none of those other moves are because of crazy fans."

Eddie blinks at him, a picture of confusion. "But I found a YouTube video and that guy- he showed all your old addresses. He said- I thought..."

"Well, there are a lot of addresses. But not because of your fans. I move for my job. Do you... did you even read the truck?" Steve gestures to Dustin's truck and Eddie steps around to see the printed H&H Project Flip and below that is their website.

Eddie looks back to Steve like that answers nothing. Which, fair, but it would answer a lot of questions if Eddie had looked up the website. "After that surge of anniversary hate, I knew I needed to get out of Hawkins. Robin was graduated, then, and headed to college. I decided I wanted to see more than just Hawkins. I followed Robin to college in Chicago, and uh, bought a house. A real fixer upper but that was fine. I had plenty of money to throw into it. On a whim I thought, what if I try to fix it. I had a lot of free time and if it ended up badly, I could afford to pay a professional to fix whatever I broke. I found that I loved doing that."

He's still just being looked at like he's not making sense.

Steve rolls his eyes, "I flip houses, dude. Me and Dustin. Harrington and Henderson Project Flip. I was in Chicago for three years, lots of addresses for that city. But then Robin pointed out there were a lot of states. That I should see all 50 of 'em by renovating a house in each. She'd moved in with her then-girlfriend by this time, so she said I should go. See the States at the least. So, I did. I find it easier to just live in the house I'm renovating, so I'm not paying mortgage and then rent somewhere else in the same city."

Eddie looks like he's had a rug pulled out from under him and he lets out a laugh that's a little hysterical.

"And moving so much has allowed me to meet so many amazing people, y'know? I got friends in all the states. So, like, yeah, you did ruin my life, but like, just my life from 18 to 20. So, yeah, I'd do it all again. Did you think I've been living in perpetual misery for the last ten years?"

"Robin certainly made it easy to assume that, so yeah!"

"I think she did that on purpose. To hurt you back."

"I deserve it," Eddie says. "I didn't even try to check in on you. Well, once, but when I couldn't find you on any socials I just. Gave up."

Steve shrugs. "I didn't reach out either. And if you'll remember, I broke up with you. Screamed in your face that we were over and went home."

"I don't know when, or even if, Corroded Coffin will tour again, but I swear to you, we'll never play or release Hey Steve again. And I'll release a statement, or go on camera, or something, and address this. I can't make it right, but I can make a change starting now, to do better and be better," Eddie says this while gripping his thermos to death.

"I believe you, and I forgive you."

Eddie nods grimly, then looks from Steve to the cabin, and back to Steve. "Do you think Robin will ever forgive me?"

"I don't know. You hurt her pretty badly, too. We were all best friends in school and when we broke up, you cut off Robin, too. And then, when she started to gain her own fame- I think when she first moved to LA, she thought you'd try to reach out. But you never did."

A silence falls over them, and Steve refuses to break it. He's done enough talking. They drink their coffees 'til they're empty before Eddie speaks.

"Where does this leave us?"

Steve thinks about it before answering. "You were my best friend before you were my boyfriend. You'd been in my life longer than you've been out of it. We don't have to be anything. We can have our closure and go our separate ways, if you'd prefer. But, I think I'd like another chance at being your friend."

"I can do friend," Eddie says slowly, like he's picking his words carefully. "I can. But, full transparency, I think I still love you."

It hurts to hear, after all the pain and the time, and it's a bittersweet kind of hurt. "I'll always love you, Eds. I meant it, you know, every word of the song. But I don't know if we can, or should, try again. We were so good until we weren't."

Tears spring from Eddie's eyes when Steve says he loves him, and they don't stop falling even as he's nodding along with everything Steve says. "No, I know. I know. I just, I needed you to know. Friend is, it's so fucking great. More than I ever expected, and certainly more than I dared hope."

"Come on. Let's go inside where it's warm and chat with Dustin and Robin like civilized people. I need a break from the heavy talk."

"Yeah. Me too. Thank you, Steve. For the chance."

Steve shrugs and shoots him a crooked grin. "Yeah, well, ruin this a second time and Robin will rip you to shreds on live TV, probably."

There's more to talk about. More hurts to heal and things to discuss, Steve knows. And maybe after all the talking, they'll learn they've changed too much to even be friends. But that'll be okay, because if that's how it goes, it'll be because they talked it out instead of screaming at each other in a living room.

If they've changed too much, this time, it'll end gently.

It doesn't stop Steve from letting a little bit of hope in. That this won't end, that they can find a way to be in each other's lives again.

As friends, or more.

[goodlucktai]

if you’re taking suggestions for the leosagi series you wrote - maybe leo with champion when shes a little older being a menace? or just leo and yui on a date. idk whatever u want :)))

read on ao3

x

At first, Yuichi didn’t know why Leonardo was so annoyed about his family crashing their dates. The Hamato siblings were fun to be around and folded Yuichi into their shenanigans as though it cost them nothing to include him. And it was always worthwhile to see Leonardo in his natural habitat—those sweet and silly and childish sides of him that only came out of their shell at home—so he never minded when he drove down to the lair to visit Leonardo and their time together was never time alone together. 

Then Leonardo came over to Yuichi’s house to watch a movie and Yuichi’s cousins invited themselves into the den and each made it their life’s mission to make Yuichi wish he was an only child. Leonardo thought they were hilarious and encouraged their antics like the troublemaker he was but Yuichi firmly resolved to never laugh at him for complaining about his brothers ever again. 

“We should go out sometime,” Yuichi said pointedly, staring very hard at the unrepentant little fluffy faces peeking at him from the porch windows. “We could get dinner. Or go skating. Or vandalize public property. I’m not picky.”

“Or all of the above!” Leonardo chimed brightly, the blue light of a portal flickering playfully behind him. He squeezed Yuichi’s hands and added, “I like the way you think, Snowball. Let me know when you’re off work on Friday and I’ll come steal you from tío.” 

He leaned in like he was thinking about going for a kiss, then seemed to remember they had an audience and backed off again with a nervous giggle. 

Goddammit, Yuichi thought with feeling. The constant scrutiny was actually ruining his entire life. 

So that’s how they end up here; Yuichi has his bike helmet tucked under one arm, watching with amusement as his boyfriend stands in front of his assembled family and lays down the law. 

“One last time: what are you not going to do,” Leonardo says in a no-nonsense tone, arms folded across his plastron, borrowed purple bomber jacket glittering where the living room lights hit the sequins. He’s unfairly cute. 

“Stalk, supervise or spy,” his siblings recite with varying levels of agreeableness. 

“And what will happen if I catch any of you doing any of those things?”

“You’ll portal our favorite belongings into the ocean.”

“And I will catch you,” Leonardo adds dangerously. “My phone is on, I’m sharing my location, I’ll be with Yui the entire time, and we probably won’t do anything crazier than trying that new Greek restaurant on 9th Ave.”

“You’d try Gyros Stop without us?” Michelangelo demands with a look of absolute betrayal and wet, shiny eyes. Yuichi honestly can’t tell if he’s kidding or not, but Leonardo is completely unmoved.

“Pushing your luck, Miguel. I’ll bring back baklava.”

The crocodile tears dry right up. One camera shutter sound later, Leonardo is staring at Casey and Casey is staring at the floor, new phone clutched guiltily to his chest. 

“I promised April I’d get a picture,” he whispers.

“If you go into the settings you can turn the sound effect off for next time,” Donnie says, leaning over his nephew’s shoulder.

“Next time?” Leonardo all but shrieks.

“Hey, so you two should get going, huh?” Raphael interjects quickly—probably because he can sense the situation rapidly deteriorating by the second. “Have a good time! Tell Raph all about it later!”

Yuichi and Leonardo finally make it past the turnstiles with only a few more dramatics for the road, hopping down into the tunnel where Yuichi’s bike is waiting while Splinter’s pointed reminder of the curfew for little turtles echoes boomingly around them. 

Said little turtle looks seconds away from dying of mortification and busies himself with shoving his helmet on and pretending his father isn’t still talking about what he’ll do if ‘my Baby Blue comes home with even a single scratch!’

“Get me out of here before I do something drastic,” Leonardo grits out. 

Yuichi pulls his own helmet on and slings a leg over his bike. He twists around and pats the seat behind him, smiling. 

“I’ll go real fast, Stripes. Just hang on tight.”

He knows for a fact that the Hamato brothers have motorcycles that Donatello built from the ground up, and that even little Michelangelo can outdrive people three times his age. And Yuichi has floated the idea of Leonardo coming down to the Hidden City on one of the shell hogs so they could have a drag race with Kitsune and Chizu, which Leonardo agreed instantly was the best idea he’d ever had. 

But for now it makes sense to share Yuichi’s bike. It's date night! And it feels like Yuichi is literally the king of the entire universe when Leonardo wraps his arms snug around Yuichi’s middle and props his chin on Yuichi’s shoulder, knocking their helmets together playfully. 

There’s another camera shutter sound behind them, and Leonardo whips around like he’s going to surrender to the Cain Instinct once and for all. Biting back a bark of laughter, Yuichi revs the engine really loud and takes off. 

It’s late and the sky is overcast, which means that when they turn onto the street from the underground it’s to a smear of headlights and bright neon signs and glowing storefront windows.   

None of the Hamatos seem particularly interested in Cloaking Brooches, beyond the single time Yuichi heard them curiously pondering what their human forms would look like while they were waiting on the popcorn in the microwave. Brooches aren’t particularly hard to come by, and Yuichi knows for a fact that there are a bunch in a drawer at home somewhere, but when he offered to bring over a few, he got a round of “nahh”s.

“Embrace the turtle, baby,” cheerful Michelangelo piped up.  

“Maybe pops would want one,” Raphael added thoughtfully. “We’ll have to ask.”

“It’s New York,” Donatello explained, since Yuichi probably looked as confused as he felt. “No one pays attention to anybody else. At best, the humans won’t even notice we look weird because they’ve got their own stuff going on. At worst, they will notice and automatically assume we’re in costume and not care why. What a town.”

So when they pull into a drive thru for smoothies, Leonardo just says, “Leave your helmet on, they won’t say anything,” proving it when he leans over to pay for their drinks with his phone and his sleeve rides up past his wrist. The teenage cashier clocks his green skin, visibly decides she’s not paid enough to care, and smiles at them brightly when Leonardo tips 25%. 

The Hamatos have lived in—or beneath—Midtown their entire lives, so Yuichi is comfortable deferring to their experience. He doesn’t think he’ll tell Auntie, though. 

They wind up at a little park with a wooded waterfront area, almost entirely empty due to the threat of rain. There’s one dim, buzzing streetlight that offers a warm orange glow against the tree coverage and overcast sky, so the two of them gravitate that way. 

Yuichi can see a few other people on the walk path, all the way down at the other side of the park, looking as though they’re making their way out.  

“There’s so many people in every corner of this town but you still manage to find little pockets like this where nobody’s around,” Yuichi says. “It seems impossible.”

“The Hidden City is like that, too,” Leonardo says, hopping up to sit on the railing that separates the greenery from the water. “Every time you take me to one of your secret hangout spots I’m like, ‘Wait, there’s a billion yokai half a street over, how is it just the two of us here?’” 

Yuichi laughs and says, “That’s fair. Did you get pineapple-banana this time? Let me try.”

“You gotta branch away from strawberries and cream, there’s a whole world out there,” Leonardo complains, but gamely switches smoothies anyway. 

Hanging out just the two of them takes much the same shape as it does when they hang out at the farm or the lair. They talk and watch videos on their phones and recreate TikTok dances they’ll never post but save anyway. The only big differences are the ambient noises of the city—traffic and sirens and music and humanity—and the lights on the water behind Leonardo that frame him like a movie scene. 

And also that there’s no nosy siblings to get in the way when Yuichi leans in for a kiss. He does exactly that, mirroring Leonardo’s smile, when suddenly his boyfriend’s gaze cuts to something over his shoulder and he goes through the five stages of grief in rapid-fire. 

“Pizza Supreme,” the slider mutters, letting his forehead bump against Yuichi’s in defeat. “Gram-gram’s laughing at me, I know she is. I mean it’s free entertainment at this point.”

“What?” Yuichi says, turning around. “What did you see?”

“My all-time least favorite B-list bad guys, probably up to their same old stupid tricks.” Leonardo puts his hands on Yuichi’s shoulders to guide him out of the way as he hops down from the railing. His attitude has cooled slightly, a gleam entering his eyes that wouldn’t look out of place in Donatello’s. Which definitely means trouble. “Hey, morons!” he calls. “Stop trying to out-ninja me, I’m so far out of your league it’s actually insane!”

There’s a beat of silence, less than a handful of seconds, and then a dozen humans in dark clothing reveal themselves. Yuichi spends a lot of time with a ninja clan these days and still finds it a little unnerving the way they can spill out of the shadows soundlessly. Even Leonardo and his siblings, with all their bright colors and larger-than-life personalities, can disappear into thin air like it’s nothing. 

These ninja wear hooded cowls with a burnt orange emblem that give away exactly who they are.

Yuichi’s hand goes to Edgewing, belted at his hip. He knows exactly who to blame for the Krang invading New York City—and ultimately for the battle scars Leonardo and his brothers all bear as a result. He only has to take one look at the healed gashes that stand out stark white against the pretty blue of Leonardo’s carapace and it’s enough to make him want to start breaking faces with an eagerness Karasu-Tengu-sensei would disapprove of. 

“Can we please just cut to the chase here?” Leonardo says, hands on his hips. “I’m a busy guy, and frankly, you picked the wrong night.”

At the beginning of the evening, the only solid plans on Yuichi’s itinerary had been dinner and driving around really fast to hear Leonardo whoop in his ear and maybe going to that drive-in movie theater in Brooklyn the turtles loved because it was screening the original Jurassic Park trilogy this weekend and Yuichi had only seen the first one. 

Maybe he should have been surprised to end up engaged in a sword fight with his boyfriend’s hereditary enemy in a cute postal-stamp sized park in Manhattan, but he’s not, really. Part of running with the Hamato clan is learning really early on how to roll with the punches. 

And—he’s taking some mean glee in this. Sue him. When he slams the hilt of Edgewing into a cowled face and hears the crunch of cartilage he goes, “Ha,�� under his breath, and only feels guilty for a second about what sensei would have to say about it. 

“Aren’t you guys embarrassed?” Leonardo calls out to the gaggle of Foot ninja he’s fighting, sounding more annoyed than anything else. “All of your overlords either leave you for dead or sick a squishy pink brain parasite on you.” He glances at Yuichi and adds, as if he had somehow missed the entire alien invasion earlier in the year and this was his first time hearing about it, “It was a whole thing.”

“You know, I do have the Internet.”

“You have dial-up. I didn’t even know what that was until Donnie Googled it.”

If Yuichi wasn’t already in love with this guy for an embarrassing number of reasons, watching him fight five to one without breaking a sweat definitely would have helped him get there. He doesn’t even need the edge his ninpo gives him; fighting an enemy like the Krang kind of makes everything else seem like small fish in comparison. 

By the time the last ninja has crumpled bonelessly to the ground, Yuichi’s muscles are burning in that pleasant post-workout way. And his mind is completely free of everything except a giddy runner’s high. So when Leonardo tilts a smile at him, already reaching for his abandoned smoothie, Yuichi doesn’t think. 

He just closes those four steps between them, takes Leonardo’s face in both hands, and kisses him. 

It’s perfect, obviously. Even with the sound of a nearby eavesdropper squeaking and then being soundly muffled. 

“Okay,” Leonardo says very calmly, and disappears in a flash of cyan. 

Somewhere in the wooded part of the park, there’s multiple shrieks and the sound of Raphael pleading, “No listen, we weren’t spying I swear we were, uh, we were—” 

“Geocaching,” Donatello fumbles, “what an insane coincidence that it took us here, he lied convincingly. Nardo, you know how susceptible I am to both peer pressure and FOMO—”

“You guys are so cute!” Michelangelo chirps enthusiastically. “Ow! And totally a power couple, you should see the pictures we—Lee, ow, ow, okay, I’m sorry I’m sorry—”

Yuichi sighs, and looks down at the Foot ninja beginning to stir weakly on the ground nearby. 

“I’m so lucky,” he confides in them, the truth of it a warm little star in his heart, and then slides out his phone. 

Donatello added him to the Hamato family plan ages ago, which means he gets service everywhere and data speeds he didn’t even know were possible. Yuichi finds Gyro Stop on GrubHub and places a pick-up order for enough spanakopita and baklava to feed however many of Leonardo’s siblings he decides to leave alive. 

[isaacapatow]

* * #IKE'S APARTMENT CONVO WITH @cassbrookes

Cass Brookes: -Cass really, really didn't want to be doing this. Ike was still at the top of her shit list for the way he'd treated Alex, but - since he was not only on the council but head of the raiders as well, it only made sense to go to him with this idea.- Damned logic. -The thought was muttered aloud as Cass mustered up every ounce of willpower she had and knocked on Ike's door, immediately stepping back and crossing her arms while she waited to see if he was home.-

Ike: -there's the faint sound of cursing and then Ike opens the door, looking faintly bedraggled with wet hair trailing over his forehead, which crumples in confusion when he sees her- Cass? What're you -- is something wrong?

Cass Brookes: No, nothing's wrong… I just-- I had an idea for some supplies and figured you'd be the best person to bring it to first. -'Not by choice' was what she wanted to add, but she left it at that, figuring that her statement of fact would at least hopefully put him in a good mood by appealing to whatever ego he actually had, not just the one he put up for show- Can I come in and talk?

Ike: -hesitates for a moment, pushing his hair back and glancing into his apartment, but then gives up, shoulders slumping- Fine. Might as well. -stands aside to let her in; it's dim and barely furnished and he shuffles over barefoot to a closet to take out two metal folding chairs that he sets up at the one card table shoved against the wall, sitting in one of them- What supplies? Is this some kinda specialty run? I can't imagine what would make you come all the way to actually see me, uh, here.

Cass Brookes: -At this point, she's honestly surprised that he's letting her in, as opposed to telling her to shove off or talk to Ermano or something, but she squares her shoulder and heads into the small abode, thanking him quietly for the chair before sitting in it.- Well, you're not only a council member, but you're head of the raiders, which means you're the best person to decide if the trip'd be worth it. Honestly it should've occured to me before now, but ever since Alex… -It's impossible not to pause, remembering the ire in Isaac's eyes that day, but she shakes it off- Ever since Alex showed up, I've been thinking about everything that I had to leave behind at the ranch. I'm sure a lot of it's been picked off by other groups by now, but my older brother Nate… he was former military. Smart guy. He made a lot of stashes around the property of things that he knew would be handy. He said it was a 'back up plan', in case anyone ever hit our place while we were out or something. -The whole time she's speaking about it, she's also fidgeting with her fingers, worried that Isaac is going to think this whole quest is selfishly motivated-

Ike: -Ike's clearly not that comfortable having her in his space either, though it's more in verbal tics rather than physical fidgeting- Uh. Okay, well … how far is your ranch? You have a clear idea of how to get there? Is it through any large townships or mostly rural? Any bridges or tunnels along the way? -he notices her fingers, the way she's playing with them, and sighs- All right. Hold up for a second before we get down to business. I didn't -- that was a shitshow at the precinct. With your brother. I was upset but I mean, hell -- you were seeing your brother for the first time after a long time. And I made it harder than it needed to be.

Cass Brookes: -He's asking smart questions, exactly the sort she'd anticipate from him, so she's ready to answer before he ends up pre-emptively cutting her off. Not quite an apology, but it was at least something. Her immediate reaction is to snap again because 'harder than it needed to be' was an understatement to her- It was. I know you were. And I know you couldn't have had any idea of what all was about to be thrown at any of us. -She blinked quickly, forcing back tears that she was not going to shed in front of Isaac. She doubted he even knew that Nate was dead now, that Alex had had to drop that bomb on her after not seeing each other for that long. At any rate, he might not be willing to say the words, but Cass was.- I didn't make it any better, and I'm a little bit sorry for hitting you, but I'm actually real sorry for saying something that I knew would be hurtful.

Ike: It's fine. -he says it fast, without any hesitation, but genuinely- I shouldn't have said what I did, either. I, um…it's not an excuse, but it was something that was stuck in my craw. Ginny told me, when Ember showed up -- she said that she was, y'know, an actual mom to her kid but her kid was still out there, and mine just came waltzing into town. How unfair that was. And she was probably right. -rubs the back of his neck, then takes a breath and refocuses- I deserved that but you didn't. I'm sorry.

Cass Brookes: Nothing is fair in this shithole of a world, and I'm pretty sure Ginny knew that, too. But, I get it. It's not like I can really blame you, or anyone else, for thinkin' that I wasn't going through it after losing Ginny and Tristan, not when it seemed like I didn't have any reason to grieve. -she shrugs her shoulders, making light of the way that Isaac had managed to set such doubt in her mind that day- How about neither of us deserved it? Alex didn't either… -but that was between the two men. Cass cleared her throat.- Anyway, it took three days ride to get here fully loaded down. A couple of bridges, mostly through rural areas, one large town, but we could sidestep it pretty easily.

Ike: Oh-kay. -isn't entirely sold that the whole thing has been smoothed over, but Cass has moved on to business so Ike does too, after getting up to fetch a towel and rub it briefly over his still-dripping hair- Good. We'll take horses there, then, to help with the haul-back, so you can handle that part. And when we get to bridges I'll scout them first. Are your horses okay with water? If we need to ford the rivers instead of taking the bridges?

Cass Brookes: -He doesn't sound like he's ready to drop the whole situation, but she wants to get the idea out without them having to get any sort of emotional- They can handle it. If everything I can think of off the top of my head is still there, we'll need a couple of extra horses just to carry stuff. Or a cart maybe. Whichever you think'd work best. Nate-- he had a lot of army gear stashed away. I don't know much about what all it was or would be good for, but I figure it's gotta be pretty helpful. -Her eyebrows pinch together momentarily as she searches her memories- Hell, if it didn't get jacked, there might still be a hay wagon in the barn…

Ike: Hold on, hold on. Nate? That's … who is that? I don't think I heard you talk about him before.

Cass Brookes: -She closes her eyes for a moment, breathing in deep through her nose before she answers him, keeping her voice steady- Nate was my other brother. Second oldest. He was a cav scout in the army. He went to, uh… seer something? Some sort of special army survival school. He was brilliant. He started bartering with people when it first started going to hell, looted a lot when places were getting abandoned. He always wanted to make sure that we would be okay-- even if someone hit our place while we were gone, or if we needed to get out in a hurry -- we would be okay.

Ike: Ah. Gotcha. -lingers for a moment, then goes to the kitchen sink and brings them both glasses of water- So he must have done some helluva job stocking up the place for baby sister, huh. And there's no reason to think that whatever random fuckwads raided your ranch would've been able to find wherever Nate stored the stuff for you.

Cass Brookes: -She takes the glass with a nod of thanks- For all of us. My parents were there for the first year, too. Then me, Alex, and Nate. -This is the most she's told anyone about her family outside of Bea and it's a bit unnerving, but if she expect Isaac to go on this trip, he needs to know what makes it worth it- I doubt they would've thought to pry up the floorboards of the house or the barns, so I'll bet the most of it's still there.

Ike: Your family home. You haven't been back there at all? You or Alex? -adds a little hastily, sitting forward in his chair to look at her more intently- That's not an accusation or anything. I don't know your story, is all. I don't wanna get any wrong ideas.

Cass Brookes: It was my ranch… when I heard from a friend in New York that it was gettin' real bad, my family kind of all came together there. It was our plan, anyway. 'Cept for Andy and Renee. Renee was on the military base and Andy was overseas. -She frowns, knowing it isn't an accusation, but feeling a sting anyway- After a little over two years, I was the only one left. My parents were killed by a group of raiders a year in. Alex and Nate went out for a supply run and never came back… I waited a year for them to come back, but there was nothing there for me anymore. -A pause then, to take a sip of water and gather herself- Alex was there for a bit, found the note I left for him on the slim chance he and Nate ever made it back…

Ike: Well. Goddamn. That's a whole different kind of awful, isn't it. To be there with your family and hold it down all together and for things to go to shit anyhow. It's no wonder seeing Alex again hit you the way it did, if you thought he was gone out there and something got him. -sips his own water too- Right. So you took all your horses and hit the road, found Redwood, and didn't try to get back to your ranch. Which, I mean-- -spreads his hands, like it's an obvious conclusion- that's the smart bet, to let all the initial fuckuppedness run its course. Your ranch woulda been overrun with all manner of other raiders and scavengers, if not the dead. But by now it would've died down enough to make an approach and see what Nate squirrelled away for baby sis.

Cass Brookes: -A lot of thoughts rolled through her head, there were a lot of things she could have said, but she just nodded instead, dropping her eyes to the glass in front of her- Pretty much, yeah. Passers by told me Redwood was starting to become a sanctuary and I had nothing left but my horses, so I figured I could at least maybe be some use here.

Ike: And you have been, so there's a win. -leans on his arms folded on the table- Now, you're sure you wanna do this. Since you'd have to come and I know -- I think you haven't been out past the wire much since you got here. It can be a shock, when people leave Redwood again and see what's happened out there. Much less going back to a place they called home.

Cass Brookes: I'm sure. I went out with David, Tristan, and Bea to find all those petting zoo animals awhile back… -Which still wasn't the same as going through familiar territory, or finding her own home ransacked and torn apart, but she was sure it would be worth it for what they might be able to bring back. And if she could bring back a few pictures of Andy to boot? Even better.- Renee mentioned that they were running low on meds, and I know for a fact that Nate stashed a bag of random drugs somewhere. I don't remember what all was in it, but I feel like that might be the best thing we could possibly find.

Ike: -closes his eyes for a moment on her mention of Tristan, but not for more than the length of a breath- How could I forget the petting zoo! That donkey keeps hee-hawing at me like she thinks I'm a long-lost relative. -shakes himself out a bit and sits up- I'm sold. Is there anybody else you wanna bring along? One other person, at the most. If we're headed to somewhere with unknown quantities and don't know exactly what we're bringing back, then we don't need, y'know. To include a paladin and a rogue and a healer in the group.

Cass Brookes: Did you really just make a D&D reference? -She a bit shocked, honestly, to hear anything that nerdy coming out of Ike's mouth, but she can't stop the small smile from creeping over her features- Well, we all know I'm the bard, you're definitely the barbarian. -more seriously- I leave it up to you though, honestly. I think with us and a couple of extra horses along as pack horses, we should be able to get it all. Especially if we luck out and find that hay wagon intact.

Ike: -grins, finally relaxing enough for it- Running some dorkass campaign to find dragon treasure sure beats another round of pinochle if you're trying to keep your mind of getting loaded. -turns his glass of water around on the table a couple of times, then nods- Just the two of us and the horses sounds good. We can save The Bard & the Barbarian for when Redwood finally opens a nightclub. -Ike's still smiling, but shifting in his chair- I'll get back to you with the travel plan, you get your horses ready. Not to give you the bum rush, but I gotta get back to fixing my shower head. The damn thing's so rusted through it fell off and conked me in the noggin while I was trying to take a scrub down.

Cass Brookes: Nope. You get back to it. -She's glad that things feel at least a little better between them after everything they said, but she's more than happy to head out and sort out all the feelings he's rustled up in her brain- Horses are always ready, Ike. You should know that -she added before letting herself out quietly-

[tame-the-lion-writes]

instant coffee

A narrative essay (?) I wrote when I was an English major.

_

“Do people in the Philippines like coffee?”

My father answers: “We only have instant coffee."

He – my father – the doctor and doctor’s husband – answers. It’s him – my sister’s father-in-law – the business owner and property manager – who falls quiet. And so does the rest of the table – his mouth – their mouth – not mouths – forming a small– o. 

Well, the wooden table, specifically, is quiet. It’s a sleak, massive thing, my sister and her husband bought from Lowe’s, wooden chairs and all its accompanying shadow. Grey with a tint of faded– jaded– green, but brighter– nicer– compared to where I sit. Where I sit is already quiet. I’m with my father, mother, sister, and ours is white, but a dirty white, and grey only because it’s speckled with dust, covered, carpeted by crumpling, crumpled plastic.

But the quiet doesn’t last. It fades back to quiet mumbles, indoor voices, garbled screeches. Nails on chalkboard discussing the importance of the French press: how long it takes, how hard to push. Whether you should buy it because sometimes the process takes too long, and you get cold coffee instead of hot, and coffee is always best hot or cold or hot or cold or scalding, to the point your skin burns and melts and falls off in flakes. First degree, second degree. Marred angry, angry red– 

And I don’t know a single thing about coffee.

I know how I relate to it.

I know that I hate it.

I know that my dad still has it instant.

Because he has no time, because he’s working, working, working. And my mother only has store-bought coffee once a month because she’s working. Because he has no time and she has no time for French presses that take the scalding and turn it into lukewarm, cool, cold, freezing. Because their coffee is already lukewarm by the time the powder turns liquid, and the water is stained a deep dark brown bloody red.

I also know that it comes from western Asia. Not France. And coffee, I mean. But here at dinner, it’s the Russian-Ukrainian-Alabama-Tennessee-ian white folk at the sleak– massive– grey– faded– jaded– green– table– who know coffee best. Not the Asian. Because I’m southeast Asian, jungle Asian, but my sister’s the jungle Asian who knows a little more about coffee. Even if she once hated it, like a child would, like I do now, but now– she likes coffee. And unlike the presumption of her father-in-law – who said earlier that Asians prefer tea over coffee – when she does like tea, instead of milk tea, she prefers sweet tea. Not ginseng, green, bright green, ginger. The type of tea a Southern grandma serves. Serves in a glass bottle. A glass bottle that’s cold. Cold with a slice of lemon. Not grandma. Great-grandma. Not even great-great grandma, but her, too. 

White hands stained a deep dark red.

Our plastic table is an inch lower than the other. I don’t know why when everyone at the Other is taller. Six-foot-something giants. The sister’s husband. Sister’s father-in-law. Six-foot-something business owners, who visit Colorado– Arizona– Europe every spring. Making me feel smaller than I already am. 

Isn’t this my sister’s house? My sister’s house, too? 

Granted, they didn’t put us at this table. There just wasn’t any space left at theirs.

But surely, the plastic chairs can be shoved together between the wooden ones. The wooden ones can scoot aside. They can be moved. They are not cemented.

We don't have to sit at this table, an inch lower, plastic, do we? Do we sit at the table at all?

“So there’s this new meal prep company where you can get food delivered to your house.”

“Yes, I tried it. But they delivered when I was at the place in Laguna, even when I tried to change the address.”

By now, my father is no longer part of the conversation. We don’t meal prep. We eat leftovers. We don’t have a second house. We have one, we have our own, which cost nearly a million, which will take another twenty years to pay off, maybe forty after college is done. Which isn't bad, but it's not theirs. It's not like theirs.

But I don’t want a second house. I want– I wish I liked coffee.

Not instant coffee.

[thatonemarvelchick]

Peter - Sixteen

Sarah’s house was bigger than Peter had expected it to be. The property was so quiet, so different from the busy life he was used to in New York and Boston. When they stepped out of the car, he swore the only thing he could hear for miles was the sounds of the trees swaying in the wind. 

Bucky went up to the door first, knocking and sending both of the teens a look that said 'Be quiet'. Peter stood behind Apricity. 

He still hadn’t said a word to her since their conversation in the car. Her argument was bouncing around in his head, giving him a headache every time it seemed to hit a wall. 

You’re a kid.

You shouldn’t have had to make those choices.

It wasn’t your fault.

He could come up with an argument for each statement. He could think of a million different ways to tell her that she was wrong, that he was really an awful person, and that she shouldn’t want to be anywhere near him. But every time he thought of an argument, her voice only rang louder in his head. 

“Bucky!” A tall, dark-skinned lady opened the door, her smile wide as she took the three in. “Come in come in, you must be exhausted from the drive.” She stepped aside, ushering them all through the screen door of the house. 

Bucky seemed to straighten the second he saw her, a small smile creeping up on his lips, as if it was one he was trying to push down or repress. “Thanks again Sarah, for letting them stay here. I just really wanna make sure she’s ok.” He glanced back at Apricity and Peter watched her seem to shrink under his gaze. 

“Come on Buck, you know me. Family helps, alright? Now come on, let me show y'all where you’re gonna be staying.” She led them back into a small room, one bed and one couch shoved into the corner. The curtains were torn, and there was a pile of old linens in the corner, pushed in next to a filing cabinet. Peter guessed that this was not usually a guest room. 

“Alright.” Bucky turned to look at the two of them but his gaze focused more on Peter when he spoke. “No funny business, I mean it. One of you gets the couch.” The way his eyes drilled into Peter told him he would be the one on the couch. “I don’t know when I’ll be back, but I’ll have Sam send Sarah updates as frequently as I can.”

Apricity was about to argue, Peter, could tell, when Sarah spoke up from behind them. 

“You know, Bucky, you could send me updates yourself. It’s not rude to ask for my number.” This caused the older man to do something Peter never imagined he would see, and blush. 

“Right.” Bucky cleared his throat, ignoring Apricity’s glare and stepping out past them to leave the room. “Well, um, yeah. I’ll send you updates then.” He didn’t meet Sarah’s amused gaze. Peter had a feeling that this mild flirtation was not new to the two and that Sarah frequently messed with the man. 

Apricity stepped forward. “You can’t just go on your own. You’re what they want. What if I could help?” She looked almost distressed, and Peter could understand why. She’d just gotten a father, she didn’t want to lose him. 

Bucky looked over and shook his head, his expression soft. “You’re staying here kid. I’m not gonna let anything happen to you, not on my watch.” He looked over at Peter and nodded curtly. “Keep her safe.”

Peter nodded back. This was probably the first thing the two had agreed on this whole time, the one mere fact that it was their job to keep Apricity safe. 

Apricity huffed, ready to start arguing again, but Peter reached down and grabbed her hand gently. “Let’s go walk.” He said, nodding towards the window. “It’s pretty out there. Cold, but pretty.” He could see how much she wanted to argue in her eyes, he could tell that this was not something she wanted to do. But when he held her gaze for a moment longer, he watched her resolve wear away. 

“Yeah, alright.” She mumbled, moving her eyes to the ground. They walked past Bucky and Sarah, who gave them an apologetic look, and made their way to the door.

When they got outside Peter realized he was still holding her hand. She hadn’t made a move to pull away, so he kept it there, knowing that her hands would be freezing without it. 

“Can’t believe he’s really going to go without me.” She mumbled, shaking her head after they’d been walking for a few minutes. The snow crunched under their feet peacefully, like a reminder that they weren’t alone. 

“Apricity, he’s a super soldier, and he’s going with the new Captain America, they’ll be ok.” He promised, squeezing her hand gently. She seemed to notice that his hand was still in hers for the first time and looked down almost in shock. Peter tensed, waiting for her to pull away, but she didn’t. 

Apricity simply shrugged, shaking her head. “I know. Realistically I know that even if I went with them I’d be more of a hassle, I would probably screw the whole thing up and hurt more than I could help. But still… I hate just sitting around here, waiting.” She stared down at the pristine white ground below them, refusing to meet Peter’s eyes. 

“You wouldn’t screw anything up,” Peter said softly, watching the way the little flakes that were falling from the trees caught in her light hair. “We just want you to be safe.”

She shrugged, looking up at him finally. Her eyes shone in the winter sunlight and Peter couldn’t help but be reminded of just what her name meant. 

She herself was a glimmer of warmth in the coldest times. Of hope in the darkest. 

“I still believe firmly in everything I said earlier, by the way.” She said softly, and Peter let out a sigh, shutting his eyes. 

“I know you do.” He murmured. Their voices were low now and they’d stopped walking, standing under one of the bigger frozen trees. The way she looked up at him made him believe, for just a moment, that he could be good. She had so much trust, so much admiration shining in those big hazel eyes. In that moment he would’ve been anything she asked. 

“Hey, guys come on in here, I’ve got soup goin'!” Apricity jumped as they heard Sarah’s voice ring throughout the clearing. She dropped Peter’s hand, and that moment in which he believed he could be good enough to deserve her vanished. He was Peter Parker, the walking bad omen, and nothing more. 

Apricity glanced over at him, clearing her throat. “Come on, I’m hungry.” She mumbled, turning to head back inside. Peter let her walk in front of him for a moment, before taking a deep breath and following. He hoped that whatever Sam and Bucky were doing, they would do it fast. He didn’t know how long he could keep up this rollercoaster and charade of wanting nothing but her but also not wanting to be around her. 

The smell coming from the house was incredible. Warm, homey, and a little bit of fish. Sarah had made clam chowder from scratch and set out a bowl for each of them. Two boys came running in, both of them arguing over something or another, and sat down across from the two teens. 

“Is it true that you’re a superhero too?” The younger one suddenly asked, looking up at Peter with bright eyes. “Like Uncle Sam?” The older one nudged his brother as if this was a question they’d been told not to ask. 

Peter chuckled, shrugging softly. “I um- No I wouldn’t call myself a superhero.” He said, ignoring Apricity’s gaze as he took a mouthful of chowder to avoid having to continue speaking. 

Apricity sighed next to him, leaning forward to look at the boys with a soft smile. “Who’s your favorite superhero boys? Other than your uncle of course.” Peter could tell she was trying to get them to take the heat off of him, something he greatly appreciated. 

The younger one perked up immediately. “Thor. Or Ironman. But probably Thor.” He grinned a big toothy smile that made Apricity chuckle. 

Peter smiled softly at the young boy, the idea that Tony was still fresh in people's hearts making him glad. He knew he wasn’t the only one who missed the famous Ironman, but sometimes it felt as if the world was simply moving on, looking for someone to replace him. In Peter’s mind, no one would be able to replace him. 

“Mine’s Spiderman.” The older one spoke up, catching Peter off guard. He saw the corners of Apricity’s mouth twitch up, and resisted the urge to groan. 

“Spiderman huh? That’s a good one, I think he’s my favorite too.” She said, sending Peter a sideways glance with a mischievous grin on her face. He rolled his eyes, shaking his head. He couldn’t help but return the grin himself though. She was contagious. 

Sarah made her way over with her own bowl, sitting down to eat with them. “So, I know you two will probably start to get really bored around here really fast. Lucky for you though, there’s this cute little town event coming up. It’s basically a winter formal but for the adults in town.” She winked at the two, taking a sip of the iced tea in front of her. “I figure it’s just a good way for you to meet some people, and get used to the town. You don’t know how long you’ll be here so… Anyways, I’ll be going, and I’ve got a sitter for the boys so if ya want to, you’re more than welcome to come.” 

Peter looked over to Apricity, as if he couldn’t form an opinion without knowing how she felt about it first, without knowing if it was something she wanted to do. She stared down at her chowder, spinning it around on her spoon. 

“I um… Yeah-Yeah that could be cool.” She glanced over at Sarah and avoided Peter’s eyes. “I don’t have anything to wear though.”

Peter nodded, clearing his throat. “Neither do I.”

Sarah waved a hand. “Don’t worry about it, there’s a girl down the road, she looks about your size hon. We’ll see if she’s got anything you can borrow. And Peter, you can just use one of Sam’s old suits, I’ll hem it up for you.” She smiled, as if proud that she’d gotten them to agree to go. Peter wondered if Bucky had put her up to it to keep his daughter occupied. 

“It’s settled then.” Sarah clapped her hands, a large grin on her face. “We’re going to a dance.”

Next Chapter

[cave-of-horrors]

Moving On ch2

Letting Go

Summary:

Years after college, Ian comes home to his see his mom for the first time since he left. And there's a load he needs to get off his chest.

Pairing: Ian/Mom

Cw: Revenge rape, incest, abuse

Leaning back against his car, Ian observes all the changes seven years has made. The house is older now and it shows. His mother clearly hasn’t been doing any upkeep of the property. The lawn is overgrown and the front porch looks ready to cave in at any moment. The paint peels and he wonders if it’s as desperate to get away from the house as he was.

Pushing off the car, he stalks towards the door with purpose. He does his best to remind himself to stand straight and prays he’ll keep his voice steady when he sees her. He doesn’t bother knocking, trying the handle and finding it unlocked.

 He lets himself inside.

“Who the hell?!” Hearing the door click, her voice is as strong as ever, though a bit rougher then he remembers.

Closing the door behind him, he locks it and pulls, testing it to make sure it still works. It does.

The halls haven’t changed a bit, though the floors creak a bit more now. it’s just as cold as ever, not a single photo on the walls or any other sign that a mother and child ever lived here.

“Hey! Who the fuck is in my house?” He waits in the living room as she stomps in, raging in her housecoat and slippers, ever present cigarette in hand. “Who the hell do you think you are, barging into my house?”

They both freeze once their eyes connect. 

He can see now why his peers used to call her a MILF. Generous tits that could wrap around the thickest dick, a flat stomach with only a slight bit of fat to grab, and a round ass. Her limbs are thinner now, sinking in on herself, age wearing away at her. She looks weaker now. Good. 

He’s changed too. To be a successful male actor for the roles he wanted, he had to work out and bulk up. He’s not the scrawny kid he used to be and he’s proud of that fact. It’ll be useful today.

“Hi, mom.” He curses that his voice still shakes but stays himself, proud that he has broken the silence first. Her eyes narrow and rake him up and down. 

“Ian. Finally remembered you have a mother? Did you come running back after that whore got tired of you?” She carelessly flicks her cigarette, sending ash falling to her carpet with the rest. 

“Don’t call them that!” He snaps, hearing an insult to the one person in this world who’s shown him love burns him with rage. Any lingering thoughts of hesitance vanish. All intentions of having a conversation, of confronting her verbally before getting to business and the possibility of closure is incinerated when he slaps her, the sound ringing through the room. Adrenaline kicks in.

She’s completely stunned, never having imagined Ian raising his voice let alone a hand to her. Before she can react, he tackles her. They wrestle on the ground for a moment and in a horrifying instant she realizes she’s no longer the stronger of the two as her shove does nothing but push herself. In her desperate scramble to claw at his eyes, kick him in the groin, anything, she burns him with her cigarette. He hisses in pain, allowing her a small window to turn from him on all fours and try to push herself up to run.

But she’s not fast enough.

He grabs her round the shins, tripping her to the ground to lay on her stomach. She doesn’t beg or plead, just closes her eyes, expecting a knife, or maybe a gun. But death doesn’t come. Instead, she feels a hand between her shoulder blades, her legs being spread, and her hips being hoisted into the air. 

“What the hell are you doing, you little brat?”

“Returning the favour, mom. My therapist calls it closure,” he grabs her waist band and rips it down, her transition from jeans to elastic bands making it all the more easy, her gasp, the more satisfying. “You know, that day I left, despite how awful you were and what you did to me, it was still the most affection you’d ever shown me.” Taking off his belt, he ties her wrists behind her back. “It was so confusing after. Hating you, wanting your love. The few memories I have of you acting like you didn’t hate me for existing also being after you used my body. It’s really fucked me up.” 

No longer needing to hold her down no matter how much she struggles, he pulls her cheeks apart, getting a clear look at her pussy and tight, perfect, little asshole. “Huh, wow mom, you know, after I left you could have had all the dick you wanted, but still never did anal did you? Thanks mom, makes this even better for me”

“What?!” For the first time, she feels fear run her blood cold. “Don’t you dare! You worthless, pathetic little–” she’s cut off by her own yelp as Ian roughly shoves the tip of his cock in her ass. He wastes no time, roughly thrusting more and more of himself into her unprepared hole, even as the edges of it begin to tear and bleed. She writhes and screams, gasping in pain. He doesn’t hesitate once he’s fully seated inside her, leaning forward with a hand on the back of her head and the other holding her hips in the air for a better angle, he holds her down as he takes long brutal thrusts in her ass. She sobs and gasps, it makes him chuckle breathlessly.

 “Why are you being such a cry baby?” He whispers in her ear, “didn’t you want all the dick you could get?” Looking down on her writhing body, shuddering with sobbing breath, the power is intoxicating, making his cock painfully hard and thrusts faster inside her tight warm asshole, blood trickling from the rim. He imagines it’s the blood lubing his cock right now. Every clap of his hips against her ass reminds him of every time she slapped him and he doubles his efforts, switching to hard shallow thrusts, pressing harder on her head, shoving her face hard into her own ashy carpet as the pressure in his cock grows.

She screams at his brutal pace in her unprepared hole, getting years of old ashes in her lungs. Her sobbing now choked with coughs as the stretch tearing and burning as it sends shocks of pain through her body. His movements stutter and the burning is turned to searing pain as the lacerations are filled with cum.

Ian groans and grunts, pumping his seed deep in his mothers colon. Cumming is such a blissful release. All the pent up emotions, the confusion, the anger, the pain, spurts from his cock. A weight lifts off his soul and now is his mother’s burden alone. Relief.

He pulls out and lets her collapse to the ground. Panting, he brushes his hair back and sees her lay there in shock, silent tears running down her cheeks making paths through the grey now dusting her face. Her body continues to twitch in pain. A loud smack fills the room as he slaps her ass hard, leaving a print and doubly ensuring sitting will be torture. A reminder for her after this. Grabbing the discarded pack of cigs, he takes her lighter and with a click, lights a cigarette and rolls her over to her back.

“What? Nothing to say this time? No insults about how pathetic I am? Here, think you could use one of these, you always loved them more than anything else in the world.” Holding the cigarette in front of her face. She stares into space, not responding. “Hm. Well, I wouldn't want it to go to waste, you can have it later.” Pulling the collar of her shirt down enough to expose one of her breasts, her senses come back to her enough for fear to flash on her face. It reminds him of his own face in the mirror as a kid when he would hide from her in the washroom during one of her angry drunken tirades. The ember sizzles against her nipple and she cries out, a fresh wave of tears.

With her pants down, cum leaking out her bloody hole and a burned tit out, he stands over her. Tucking his cock away and taking his belt back, he drops the cigarette on her face.

“Bye mom. I’m starting a new life now, without you or your memories.” 

With her still on her carpet, left in a state of shock and pain, Ian gets in his car.  A sense of peace he’s never known washing over him. He’s free now. He takes a deep breath, and starts up the engine, ready and unburdened for the next stage of his life.

[rosedesang]

Bellamy Kang has a very characteristic way of walking. Like a monarch in his kingdom, his head high, every ground he steps on, he owns it. It is a little different here, indeed, the Atelier is not his property and it annoys him. What annoys him? It isn't exactly Not to own the place no, it's that Allegra ( @stillresolved ) specifically built it as a rival land, her very own principality as a declaration of war against the family. For many years he considered her little fashion things - as he calls it - a "phase", insulting her of being the "rebellious one" for pure attention seeking. No one ever bet on Allegra to succeed in this or make a difference that would long last enough. Yet she did. Fine. But his pride of the size of the Mount Olympus would never make him admit it to her face. Bellamy is sensitive to Hard Work - even though Allegra provokes him, almost labeling him as a lazy heir who did nothing but use the family name and money, he is a hard worker himself. A man as young as him, if not brilliant, would have never earned the seat he has at the family's business table. He admires the ones who put in the work yes, like him. Why can't he say that to his own little sister? There is possessiveness in wanting the Kang name to stay united, like his Father would want - there is fear for the Kangs to get divided in the future due to her actions, there is selfishness in not wanting her scandalous reputation to taint the value of his own. All of it : little by little, poisoned the love Bellamy has for his little sister. Back when they were kids, many times he did defend her, protect her when she was still too small to do so herself and him, old enough to understand one thing or two about being a good big brother. Is it jealousy then? Him constantly provoking her, looking down on her : perhaps not but it crystalized in time for too long to go back to the days he fought for her well being. Funnily enough, she does not remember, again, she was too small.

"Jesus how more Ungrateful can you be. Always speaking like the masses, of course you did become one of them." He listens to her, watching the dresses in the making still pacing, he stops right in front of a box of fabric scraps, his fingers traveling along the last scrap put in, a high quality satin : Bellamy is a man who can tell the difference. An annoyed expression gains his face. "The money Father shoved into your mouth for the first 18 years of your life kept your hair shiny and your nails manicured enough for you to become a super model, don't push that speech on me, Allegra." That's where the headache starts. "You know what. I didn't even come here to fight, it's bad for my skin." He drops the piece of Satin, rolling his eyes. It might be part of the Kang blood to be a little bit of a Diva, he sometimes can be. He gains his calm back, his serious back as well. "I have heard back from the investigations after the Shangri La accident. The detective says it may have been an act of terrorism." It was no less than two weeks ago, at the Shangri La Hotel. The entire Elite of Seoul was invited for one of the most prestigious event of the year, the Kang family of course was there as well : Their father, their uncle, Allegra was there too together with Seraphina. Actually only Gaya and Bellamy were running late on that day. The night did go perfectly at first until they all got evacuated. Minutes passed and boom, the building went up in flames. The investigation happened to be a gigantic mess, missing evidence, missing information, in the press it has been declared like an accident due to a gas leak but the terrorist option has never been disregarded and was more and more speculated. The event is still fresh in everyone's mind and well, due to Allegra's voluntary exile, nobody knew if she was alright, if she was scared, if she was safe. "You are Oh so proud to have created a whole new social class for yourself but People like Us. The Elite. The sovereigns of this world : we are targets for Them." Them, the terrorists, the small people, the extremists, whoever might have been behind it all. "Not only you should be proud of the Achivements behind the Kang's name, you should know that in times like these, we must regroup." A few steps are made then, as he stands in the middle of the Atelier, his eyes now on her, hands down his suit pockets. "We increased security at the mansion, you should come back and live with us. For a time. Mother happens to be worried."

[morganofthewildfire]

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Tied Me to You - Prologue:

Seven

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masterlist

~4.5k words

an: It's beginning! Me and @rowanaelinn are super excited to share this with you, and we can't wait to bring you along the journey that we've created! We'll be switching off posting chapters, so look between our two blogs to stay up to date! And let either of us know if you want to be added to the taglist!

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Doranelle, 1955

At seven years old, there was a lot Rowan Whitethorn didn’t know about the world. He didn’t know why the sky was blue, or why it got cold in the winter, or what taxes were. But he did know something. Aelin Galathynius was his best friend in the whole wide world, and that would never change.

He also knew that his favorite game was to play pirates, and that Aelin’s new costume was absolutely brilliant. The dark around her right eye, the little cuts on her lips… He was jealous of it. He asked her how she got ready for their play date, because he wanted to do the same next time. But she got pissy, and only told him to mind his own business. 

She could be so secretive at times. Being pissy was a major part of her personality, he didn’t mind it. He did mind the secrets, though. She knew everything about him, he thought it was only fair that he knew everything about her too. 

But he didn’t push, and after she told him to shove off, he just shrugged and went to get their swords. The summer day was nice, though a little hot, which meant it was a perfect day to keep their game going.

Yesterday, they’d left off with Captain Aelin and First Mate Rowan being chased down by evil pirates, not good pirates like them. They were on their ship, The Fireheart, and had to get ready to fight the pirates and defend it. Aelin had come up with the name, and it’d stuck, though she didn’t tell him where it came from. 

Another secret.

But he liked the name, so he didn’t really care where it came from. Especially not now, when they were about to be attacked!

Rowan ran back toward the shed in his backyard, trekking barefoot through the dirt as he went to go grab them. He wanted a real sword, but his dad had said no, so he’d gotten two wooden swords instead. One for him and one for Aelin. And he grabbed them both quickly, hurrying back out to where his best friend was waiting.

He found her on the swing by the creek on the other side of his house, sitting there staring at the water. She looked a tad bit sad, her lips were usually curled upward, not the other way round. But that look on her face faded the moment she saw the swords in Rowan’s hands. She got up and snatched one from him, before turning around and running toward their ship, screaming something along the lines of slaying their enemies and bathing in their blood. 

That seemed a little gross, but he’d do it for her. 

A smile pulled at his lips when he remembered the day he met Aelin. That had been gross by then. She was dressed all in white, her school uniform. Rowan had been playing outside, and he heard the sound of branches breaking over his head. He let out a little scream of surprise when he saw a girl of his age, five by then, with her arms and legs around a thick branch like a koala. 

His noise of surprise had been enough to surprise her, too, and she let go of her grip on the woods. And then, she fell into the creek, ruining her perfectly white outfit. She’d said, “Have you never been taught to not scare the ladies?” 

She had a missing tooth in the front, slurring her words. He just answered, “Have you never been taught to not trespass into someone else’s property?” 

She snorted then, such an unlady-like sound. “Trespass? What are you? Fourty?” 

He frowned, his head cocked to the side. “You’re awfully rude. Where are you from?” 

She rolled her eyes, standing up and straight as if she didn’t fall in dirty water. “Clearly not from your side of town, posh boy.” 

His eyebrows shot to his hairline, “Posh boy? Rude isn’t a strong enough word to describe what you are. I do not what to be–”

Cold water hit his skin as he spoke, some of it entering his mouth. He opened his eyes to find the improper girl splashing water at him and giggling as he did. He should be angry at that. The clothes he wore that day were very fine and soft. And yet, he only squinted his eyes at her, entered the water and started splashing her back. 

And just like that, Rowan found his best friend. So, no. It wouldn’t be the first time they’d have an experience with staining liquid, and just like that day, Rowan would follow her. 

-----

They spent the rest of the day playing, planning their war against the enemy pirates before-

“Rowan!” His mother called from inside the house, yelling through the front porch door. “It’s time for dinner!” A frown grew on his face, his wooden sword slumping as he dropped his arm. Dinner meant it was time for Aelin to leave.

He looked over at his best friend, ready to share in the misery. But she was looking away, back through the trees toward her house, only her hair visible. Rowan liked her hair. All the other girls on their street had their hair in such tight little curls, with ribbons hanging down from them like Yulemas gifts. And they could never get that, or their prissy dresses, dirty. 

Aelin’s hair was blonde and wild, almost gold in the sun. It wasn’t usually tied up, but if it was she never cared if it came loose.

Her hair looked soft, and he sometimes wanted to touch it to see if it was, but he never did. 

But that thought went completely out of his mind when she turned to look back at him, her wide blue eyes shiny with what looked like… tears? Was she crying? Though it was annoying, dinner happened every day, what was so bad about today?

He still didn’t know how she’d gotten that dark stuff around her eye, but he barely focused on that, looking at the tear that slipped down her cheek. Something in his chest tightened painfully at the sight.

“You should just stay here for dinner,” he offered, shrugging. Maybe she didn’t like what was for dinner at her house? “My mom is making a great meatloaf.” Then a great idea struck him. “You should just move in!” He smiled at her, thrilled by the idea. Then they wouldn’t ever have to stop playing pirates. 

The words succeeded in making a small smile grow on her face. But then it fell, and his mood fell with it. “You don’t have another room for me,” she said, eyes dropping to the ground. She dragged her sword through the dirt. Rowan thought about that, furrowing his brows at the problem.

His mom definitely wouldn’t let her stay in his room, that wouldn’t be proper. He thought that was stupid, but he couldn’t argue. But -

“I could build you a treehouse!” He said, perking up again. “I can put it right between our houses so we can meet there when you don’t want to go home for dinner. I can bring you whatever food I’m having! It can be our own little spot.” 

He grinned, proud of himself for the idea, and she smiled back, brighter than a thousand suns. 

She opened her mouth to respond when -

“Rowan!” His mom cut her off, calling again, and he sighed.

“I better go,” he said, “but see you tomorrow right?” He swung his sword up to rest on his shoulder, beginning to walk backward toward his house. Aelin nodded, wiping at her face.

“See you tomorrow,” she said, “to whatever end.”

“To whatever end,” he replied back, waving at her before bounding off back toward his house. It was a phrase she’d read in a book apparently, and decided it was going to be their phrase. They said it every time they said goodbye, knowing that they’d always see each other again. 

Rowan had made fun of it the first time she’d said it, and she’d threatened to beat him up for it, but now he liked it just as much as her.

He ran up the front porch steps, taking off his shoes as he walked inside, like he was supposed to, but carried his sword into the dining room, plopping down in a chair across from his dad, who was reading the newspaper.

“Hey dad?” He asked, “can we build a treehouse?”

----

“That is not fair.” 

Aelin rolled her eyes but asked with a smirk, “Do you think pirates are fair?” 

He shrugged, “No. But we’re good pirates.” 

“We are.” 

“Then why are we punishing the entire crew only because their captain is our enemy?” 

Aelin crossed her arms. She was smaller than he was, but there was something in her eyes that made him feel as if she was taller. Out of his reach. “If someone was my enemy, would they be yours?” 

“Of course,” he answered. Why did she have to ask? Early this morning, he’d forced his father out of bed to drag him in the woods not far away from their house, and they collected some of the wood they would use to build the treehouse. 

But Aelin didn’t know that. His father said it’d take time to build, so Rowan decided that it would be her Yulemas present. 

“Then, it’s the same for them. If their captain is our enemy, they all are.” 

Rowan was about to answer something along the lines of things are not always being either black or white. His father always said that, even if Rowan didn’t always understand what it meant. He felt like it fit at that moment. 

But Aelin’s stomach growled, loudly. They looked at each other before laughing, joking about how Aelin’s belly would scare their enemies away from their ship. 

“What’s so funny here?” His mother asked, Rowan didn’t hear her coming. He was too busy laughing with Aelin. He told his mother what happened and she smiled. His mother had the kindest smile in the entire world. She also gave the best hugs. But he was a big boy, now. He didn’t need her hugs anymore. Except before saying goodnight, in the privacy of his bedroom. “You hungry?” She asked Aelin, who only shrugged, a shy look on her face. His mother winked at them both, “Come in, it’s time for a little snack, what do you think about that, little sea-terrors? I’ll even let you have some cake, does that sound good?”

They both nodded rapidly, and followed his mom as she turned to head back inside, her long skirt wrapping around her legs. Rowan didn’t usually like cake all that much, but the one his mom made was delicious. 

And Aelin loved cake, and sweets of any kind. He looked back to share a look of excitement, but she had lagged behind a bit, hesitating almost. Rowan slid his hand into hers, the one not holding a sword, and squeezed it once.

“Come on,” he said, “let’s go.”

She smiled lightly at him and followed this time as they went up to his house, climbing the front porch and entering through the front door. It wasn’t much cooler inside than it was outside, but Rowan barely noticed as he headed toward the kitchen.

“Rowan, sweetie,” his mom said, stopping before she entered the kitchen and turning to face them. “Why don’t you get the cake ready for us? I want to talk to Aelin about something real quick, okay?” 

Rowan looked at both of them, curious to know what he was missing out on, but he didn’t ask. Instead he just nodded and headed into the kitchen, his wooden sword in tow. 

He’d just ask Aelin about it later.

——

Aelin’s hands turned moist when Rowan’s mother asked him to leave. She was half tempted to ask him to stay, or to help him get cake ready. But, from what she knew about Rowan’s mom, she was sweet but she always got what she wanted. And what she wanted now, was a conversation with Aelin. 

She wiped her hands on the pants she stole from Rowan as she followed her into the hall bathroom. They were too small for him now, so he let her borrow them for one day. She never gave them back. No store was selling pants for little girls, not that she ever went to a store to buy clothes. She got what was given to her, that was all. 

She winced, having entirely forgotten that her clothes were disgustingly dirty after playing for hours, and now her hands were dirty, too. It wouldn’t bother her normally, but she didn’t want to get anything dirty in Rowan’s house. 

“Can you sit on the counter for me, dear?” Liana Whitethorn asked, and Aelin nodded, eyes on the floor as she climbed up to sit next to the sink. “Do you mind if I brush your hair?” She asked, her voice warm and kind, and Aelin looked up hesitantly, meeting green eyes so similar to the ones she was so comfortable around. 

That made her calm down a little bit. 

She shook her head, and followed her gesture to turn around, crossing her legs as she faced the mirror. She watched as Rowan’s mom leaned over and grabbed a hairbrush. 

Mrs. Whitethorn began pulling it through Aelin’s wild blonde locks, smoothing it in soothing strokes. 

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” She asked softly, meeting her eyes in the mirror. “I didn’t see you yesterday, but Rowan came in last night asking if I could help him figure out how to get his face like yours for your pirate game.”

Aelin looked away, her face burning. 

“Was it your father?” Rowan’s mom pressed, running her hands down her hair to smooth it further. 

“He’s not my dad,” Aelin interrupted, shaking her head. No, he wasn’t her dad. She hadn’t seen her real dad in a few years, or her real mom. She still didn’t know why they’d had to leave her, but they did, so here she was.

But at least she’d been able to meet Rowan.

“No, of course not, I’m sorry,” Rowan’s mom confirmed, and Aelin met her eyes in the mirror again, blinking at the woman’s warm smile. “How about I braid your hair for you, how does that sound?”

Aelin nodded hesitantly, her mouth once again shut. She’d never had her hair braided before, not like those other girls on their street with their hair in pretty curls and twists and buns. 

Mrs. Whitethorn just smiled again and pulled back all of Aelin’s golden hair behind her shoulders, beginning the braid. 

“You have very pretty hair,” she complimented, and Aelin fidgeted, looking down. She didn’t know what she’d done to deserve how nice Rowan’s mom was being. She didn’t deserve it, she heard it every day. 

“Thank you,” she said quietly, “I have my mother’s hair.” She didn’t remember much about her mom, just flashes of golden hair, the smell of smoke, and the name fireheart. 

“Do you know where she is?” Mrs. Whitethorn asked, her touch soft and comforting in Aelin’s hair. It felt motherly. 

Aelin only shook her head, before apologizing. She didn’t want to ruin Mrs. Whitethorn’s braid, she was already so generous to use that time on her. She could be doing more useful things instead of braiding hair that hadn’t been washed in days. Shame crippled inside of her, and she prayed to every God she knew that Mrs. Whitethorn wouldn’t see the dirt on her scalp, or that she wouldn’t ask questions. 

“I’m sorry,” she said softly, and Aelin shrugged. She didn’t think about her parents often, it hurt too much when she started down that road. 

“What flavor is the cake?” 

Mrs. Whitethorn chuckled softly, the sound like a melody and Aelin’s entire body stiffened when she kissed the back of her head. Thankfully she didn’t comment on her reaction, and only answered, “Chocolate, of course.” 

She smiled, her grin hurting her cheeks. “I love chocolate.”

She looked up to find Liana looking at her through the mirror, and even if Aelin didn’t know her too well, she knew her eyes were filled with worry and sadness. She bit the inside of her cheek, a habit she’d taken through the years to avoid crying. Physical pain distracted from the emotional one. “I’m fine,” she said. 

Mrs. Whitethorn cocked her head to the side, a small smile pulling her lips up, “You don’t have to pretend here, you know?” 

Her bottom lip wobbed and her eyes burned with tears, and yet, she said nothing. 

“Do you want to stay here for the night?” Rowan’s mom asked, her light brown brows furrowed. “You can take Rowan’s room.” 

Aelin was about to open her mouth and respond, a tear streaming down her bruised cheek, when a soft knock sounded at the door. They both turned to look and saw Rowan standing in the open door, looking concerned as he saw her tears.

“Are you okay?” He asked her, and if anything it made her cry more. She buried her face in her hands, doing her best to sniff back her tears, not wanting to cry in front of either of them. “Your hair looks nice.”

A sob escaped her at the sweet words, and she felt warm arms come to hug her, Rowan’s mom squeezing her tight. She hesitated a moment before sinking into the embrace.

It was the first kind embrace she’d felt in years. Even Rowan hadn’t hugged her like that, he couldn’t. This was the hug of a mother. 

“It’s okay, honey,” she murmured, “it’s all going to be okay.” 

——

“What do you wanna do when you’re older?” Aelin asked Rowan as he stood watch on their little ship. He stood higher than he usually did on a brick he found in his father’s shed. She said he was the first one to stand watch, and as her First Mate, who was he to refuse?

He shrugged, “Dunno. It’s so far away. What about you?”

She looked far away, as if they were truly at sea and was looking for land to sail to. She took a deep breath, gripping her sword harder. “I don’t know. Not much for me to do, is there?” She asked, a little sadly. “All I know is that I want to do it far, far away from here.”

He frowned, remembering to look ahead from time to time or she’d have his butt for not being careful enough. “You don’t like it here?”

Another shrug. He’d noticed she always did that when they talked about her. “I like you.”

That had him smiling. He liked her too, but he didn’t say it. Other boys at school would make fun of him if he did. Instead, he said, “Where do you want us to go?”

She turned around, stars shining in her eyes. “Us?”

He grinned. “You said to whatever end, right?”

He saw her open her mouth, but hushed voices make them turn suddenly, their gazes finding his mom talking with their neighbour, Aelin’s foster dad. 

His brows furrowed. His parents didn’t like him, why would they have a conversation? Maybe to inform him that Aelin would spend the night here, though Aelin said that he likely wouldn’t mind. 

But their conversation didn’t seem enjoyable, at least not from the way his mother’s back was stiff. She only stood that way when she was angry at Rowan, or when his father made jokes she hated. 

Rowan had never met him really, definitely had never talked to him, but something must really be wrong for his mother to be like that. 

“You’re just another bored housewife,” he spat. “Use that time to raise your kid and don’t stick your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

“No,” Aelin breathed, her eyes wide. “No, no, no.”

Was he talking to his mother that way? And why? Rowan tightened his hands into fists. He wasn’t a violent boy, words were usually his weapon of choice, but hearing someone talk that way to his mother… It had something burning in his throat. 

And the tears in Aelin’s eyes didn’t help. His father always said that it was the man’s role to care and protect the women he loved. Aelin, she was the strongest person he knew, his captain, but he still wanted to protect her. She was his best friend, after all. 

And his mother, too. It was his role to protect her if his father wasn’t there. Not that she couldn’t do it herself, he knew she could. But he didn’t want her to have to reach that limit. 

He almost went over there, to do what he didn’t know, until he felt a small hand clutch his tightly. He looked over, seeing Aelin’s wide eyes, and decided his place was right there by her side.

He squeezed her hand in comfort, but watched the argument from across the yard, unable to hear most of it. Aelin took a few steps back, almost hiding herself in the bushes before he called out her name. Loud. 

She still hadn’t let go of his hand, he would feel her shake. What could cause her such reaction? Adults arguing was the way of life. He didn’t particularly like it when his parents were involved but it was their business. Not the kid’s ones. 

He screamed her name again, and her back stiffened before she walked out and let go of his hand. He was right behind her, eyeing warily the man who disrespected his mother and scared Aelin so much. 

“Home,” he barked an order, pointing to their small house. “Now.” 

“Don’t talk to her that way,” his mother said, anger burning in her eyes. 

The man hissed, pointing to Rowan, “Your responsibility.” Then he pointed to Aelin. “Mine. Now, go home.” 

Aelin swallowed, “I-I was going to spend the ni–”

He didn’t even let her finish before saying, “No. I won’t repeat myself a third time.” 

What was his problem? He didn’t have to agree with their plans, but did he have to be so rude? His friend was obviously afraid. He opened his mouth, but Aelin stopped him with a hug. “It’s okay. I’ll go to sleep and we'll play tomorrow?” 

He looked up at his mother. Surely, there had to be a way for Aelin to stay over? She pinched on her lips, shaking her head. So Rowan hugged Aelin back and asked, “Same time?” 

She gave him a smile, but he didn’t think this one was real. She was too good at pretending for him to be sure, though. “Yes, First Mate.”

——

Rowan idly swung back and forth on the wooden swing, dragging his foot through the dirt as he looked over at the trees on the other side of the yard yet again. Just waiting for Aelin to appear. It was three hours past when they were supposed to meet up, past when she came over every morning without fail.

It was summer, which meant no school, which meant she could show up early in the morning and leave just before dinner. But the sun was slowly rising above the trees, and his best friend wasn’t there.

Rowan picked at a loose piece of wood from Aelin’s sword, resting it on his lap as he looked yet again.

Where was she?

The creek gurgled in front of him, and he watched a fish swimming by, a spot of bright yellow in the blue water. Like Aelin’s eyes.

He huffed miserably and stood up from the swing, deciding to go inside and figure out what was going on. He trudged through the yard, kicking up leaves on his way. It was hot outside, but his yard was well shaded, a whole canopy of trees above him. 

There were always a lot of birds flying around, chirping in the mornings, and he listened to their singing mournfully as he hurried in to ask his mom what was going on. 

But as he walked inside, the screen porch door clacking shut behind him, he found his mother sitting at the dining room table crying, his father sitting next to her trying to comfort her. Her head was in her hands, her elbows on the table, his dad’s hand on her back. 

“What’s wrong?” Rowan asked cautiously, dropping both swords down to his side. His mom looked up, her green eyes filled with tears, looking at him so so sadly, and in that moment - he knew.

He dropped the swords onto the floor, turning and running back outside, ignoring the “Rowan!” his mom yelled from inside. He didn’t hesitate a single second as he turned left, running straight for the treeline and straight toward Aelin’s house. 

He’d never been there, he never went over there, but today he was going to. 

It was a tiny house, looking like it might fall apart if a bad wind hit it. It was dark, and a little sad looking, and seeing it now made Rowan realize why she always wanted to come over to his house, where it was warm and bright, and there was always fresh lemonade. Not like this. 

But he didn’t pause as he ran toward the shack, hurrying up the front steps and knocking on the door rapidly. She was here, she had to be here.

No one answered. 

He tried again, banging his hand on the front door as he tried to catch his breath, tears he would never admit to burning his eyes. 

Still, no one answered.

“Aelin?” He yelled, moving over to a window. “Are you in there?” The curtains were open so he could see into what he guessed was the living room, though all he saw was a beat up couch and an old TV. There was a threadbare rug on the floor, and… one of Aelin’s books lying askew by the wall. That was it. No sign of anyone inside.

“Aelin?” He tried again, a tear dripping down his cheek. “We’re supposed to play pirates! I stood watch all this morning, just like I promised!”

He went back to the door, moving to knock again, when a warm hand closed around his arm gently. He froze, hoping it was her, but he turned around and it was just his mom, looking down at him with those sad eyes. 

“I’m so sorry, Rowan,” she whispered, pulling him in for a hug. “They moved away. I heard this morning.” Rowan stood there in disbelief, standing still in his mother’s embrace. “I’m so sorry,” she repeated, smoothing a hand down his hair. “She’s gone.”

His mother handed him a little pink piece of paper, one that he recognized as Aelin’s. She’d already left him notes with the same paper. She wasn’t a girly girl over all, but she’d confided in him that pink and red were both her favorite color. 

With shaking hands he opened the note. 

I’m afraid I have to go on other adventures, I would have stayed if I could.

The Fireheart is yours, Captain Whitethorn. 

You are my favorite sailor and my favorite friend.

To whatever end, 

AG.

And that’s when he let himself cry, sinking into his mother’s arms. And the tears came quickly, spilling down his cheeks as he sobbed. He didn’t know he could hurt this much. He always thought the term heartbreak was an exaggeration, but standing there, right then, he could feel his split in two.

Because that man, Mr. Perrington, took her away from here. Took her away from him. 

Because Aelin, his best friend in the whole wide world, was gone.

~~~~~~~

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How did Jack start up with his dragon ranch business? Was Champ his first dragon? How did the rest of the gang end up there? Also is Jack the tour guide when kids come on class trips or does he have "farmhands" for that??

*picture here a dragon breathing fire and screaming MORE* **Do they breathe fire in this AU?

Ah Sam. I am so glad you asked. Because I have some thoughts about how this all got started...

As for the breathing fire... Well, there's no evidence for it here... But no evidence against it either... So who knows? 😈

Part of the Tangled Up 'verse. Find my masterlist

Warnings: dragons, swearing, mentions of past dragon abuse, mention of injuries, mention of medical/vet stuff but nothing explicit.

Word count: 1.9k

Since the story line began

Jack took the news… about as well as could be expected. 

He was being discharged and gently urged to retire. 

But he was too young to retire. He'd gone into the military straight out of school - he had never had to apply for other jobs. And he was still young, still fit, still had time. 

Which was about when he heard that Champ was being retired too. 

The big old dragon had been a huge help, bringing supplies in and occasionally helping to move people (once even shoving an enemy off a roof in defense of one of his people). 

Jack definitely had a soft spot for the old guy. And dragon ranches we're just getting started really, but he'd heard of the concept a few times. 

It didn't take long to find a big piece of land for sale outside a city. He had just enough saved up, and he sold the house he'd bought before–... Well. Before. 

He didn't need a house like that, now that it was just him. 

The next step was to ask Champ. The big old dragon was officially retired but hadn't moved yet, as paperwork was still being processed and a place was still being found. 

(And Jack tried hard not to think about that, to think about how willing the army was to simply ship Champ off, to let people go with no net once their use was done.) 

"Hey, big guy," Jack greeted, holding out a hand. Champ gently pushed his head into Jack's hand, blinking slowly at him. "I know they haven't found a place yet to send you, and I was thinkin'..." He paused and swallowed, uncharacteristically nervous. This was a big change, for both of them. "Well, I bought some land, and I was thinkin' of startin' up a, uh, ranch? A dragon ranch." 

Champ puffed out a gentle, warm breath and nudged him, encouraging him to continue. Jack couldn't help but grin, scratching the dragon's eye ride with affection. 

"You wanna come live with me? Don't think it'll be exciting, but we might get some visitors." 

Champ rumbled and nudged him again, moving his head to tuck Jack under his chin, and Jack laughed. 

At least he'd have a friend with him, no matter what. 

Getting official custody of Champ was easy. Getting him to the new place was easy. 

Which was about when Jack realized he'd made an error. A big error. 

There was no house on the property at all. 

Jack was fairly certain that faintly wheezy noise coming from the dragon was what passed as laughter. 

Grumbling the whole way, Jack went back to the city to grab a tent and a few supplies. Clearly he had work to do. 

The house was the first addition. It wasn't large, really a bachelor's house, with only two bedrooms. But it was big enough for him. 

The first people to come visit the ranch as it was were tourists, excited to see a dragon. Champ had very little interest in them, which didn't seem to matter to them - they gaped at him and asked a few questions before they left again. 

Pretty easy money, really. (Jack ignored the niggling feeling of this being more akin to a circus attraction, and promised himself he'd make it better given time.) 

And then… well, then came Ginger. 

He got the call late, after dark, about a dragon needing to be rehomed, as she wasn't suitable for her current position. They offered him a good chunk of money for her transfer and care, which should have been the first red flag.

Curious and not yet experienced enough to be wary, Jack agreed. 

Ginger arrived in a cage. She had no name. She was half the size she should have been for her age, and nearly feral, hissing at anybody that got too close to her. Jack could see some scars across her belly in the brief flashes he got. 

He didn't yell at the delivery people only because they were a third party freight company. 

He did absolutely document every single sign of abuse, everything from the cage to her scars, and reported the people to the Bureau of Dragon Management. 

He'd seen enough abuse that he hadn't been able to do anything about. This much, he was determined to fix if he could. 

Ginger got her name within days, both for her color and her temper. And boy did she have a temper. She snapped at everything that got too close to her, and "too close" seemed to change from day to day. More than once, Jack had to back off in a hurry, or dive to the side to avoid sharp teeth or claws. 

But he didn't blame her. He didn't get mad. Hell, he'd probably be defensive as shit if he'd been abused like that, too.

So he was calm and patient. He brought food out to her. He gave her space. He sat, usually with Champ as his backrest, and read to the two dragons, giving Ginger a chance to relax and get used to his voice and scent. 

He also devoured every dragon behavior book he could get his hands on. Trips to the library became more common, and he got to know the librarian pretty well, to the point that she would request behavior books for him when she saw them. 

The certification process had just been put into use when he finally got Ginger to start warming up to him. She still didn't much like him (or anyone else), but she stayed away when he had visitors, and she had stopped trying to attack him. (He was counting that as a win, for sure.) 

It was easy for him to get certified - he knew more about behaviors than the interviewer did, having now worked with multiple dragons. (Champ and Ginger, of course, but also some from before.) 

And then he got signed up for the first aid classes, learning how to treat the most common injuries in dragons. Dragon vets were a thing, but still uncommon, usually overbooked, and expensive. That added another mark under his certification. 

Before he really knew how to deal with this, someone dropped off a baby dragon and left. Abandoned, looked like. It was under weight and listless, barely bothering to fuss at him. 

So Jack did what he was quickly becoming good at: he helped. He nurses the baby back to help. He got Champ and Ginger involved (although he less got Ginger involved than she barged in on the scene demanding to be included). 

And that's about when he discovered the real problem. 

Ginger was too damn smart. 

There was not a thing that would keep her out if she was determined, as evidenced by the splintered front door when Jack had the baby sleep inside to keep warm. Ginger apparently disagreed, because Jack walked into the main room that morning to find Ginger's head and neck stretched into the house with the baby dragon curled up next to her, both of them peacefully asleep. 

(It took him days to clean up all the splinters and get the door replaced, and he grumbled the entire time.) 

He was still rehabbing the baby when he got a call for a school group. This was new territory for him, but he agreed, after making sure that the teachers would agree to listen to whatever he told them to do. He doubted the kids would listen so easily, but that was a problem for another time. 

And then he called up a friend. 

"Harry," he greeted when the call connected. 

"Jack," came the smooth reply. "What's the occasion?" 

"Well… I need some advice."

The silence between them was deafening for a moment before Harry huffed a soft laugh. "What can I do?" 

And that was exactly why Jack had kept in contact with him even after all these years. "Well, I was hopin' to ask for some advice." 

Harry sighed, amused, and there was a brief pause. "I'm sufficiently prepared with a drink," he agreed. "Go ahead." 

“Had my first school group come by today.” 

Harry hummed into the little pause that Jack left. “Anyone get eaten?”

Jack chuckled. “No, nothin’ like that.” He paused again for just a moment. “How do you… What safeties do you have? For the kids?” 

Harry sighed, and there was a brief pause. “None.”

“None?” Jack repeated, flabbergasted. 

“They’re dragons,” Harry told him, dry as England never was. “You can’t bloody well expect them to stay behind a fence. Children are wont to cross fences too, regardless.”

Jack sighed. He’d known this. He’d figured it out for himself, but he’d hoped that Harry would have something to add to the conversation. “Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled. “Useless Brit.”

“Helpless Yank.” The smirk was clear in Harry’s voice. “Just keep the kids away from any dragon you don’t trust around small, squishable, probably tasty children.” And there was a click as he hung up.

That kind of behavior deserved a drink for dealing with and not calling him back just to swear at him. So Jack rewarded himself. 

It took him a couple months to really be comfortable with the school groups, not that he ever let them catch on. He was the gracious Southern host he was raised to be, always with a smile, quick to joke, always keeping an eye on the little ones. 

Rather to his surprise, Champ was, well, a champ. The big dragon laid flat (as flat as he could) on the ground and patiently acted as jungle gym for the children. He let the children climb on him and poke at him and screech and laugh and play with nary a twitch. 

Which was great, because the children loved him. Every time. All of them. 

Apparently there was some magic to being able to crawl all over a giant dragon. Who knew? 

Ginger typically stayed away, or only got close enough that the kids could see her but not really approach. Which was fine - she placed and enforced her own boundaries, and Jack was fine with that. 

Tequila was the last of the trio to come to him. Tequila had worked as more or less a glorified pack mule, carting goods to a distillery and hauling waste away. Easy work. Simple. Straightforward. 

But he'd gotten into trouble one too many times for being a bit… rambunctious. 

And so, odd to the ranch he went. Rambunctious, Jack thought, was putting it mildly. The dragon had tons of energy, considering his size, and frolicked with any babies on site. 

He also got himself swatted more than once by Ginger for being too energetic. 

But for all that, he was a gentle giant, more like an overeager puppy. He had to be reminded of the rules… and he wasn't the sharpest tool… but he was sweet. And good with the kids. 

So Jack had no problem letting him stay. 

He had his three constant dragons, and a rotating variety of rescue babies, rehab patients, and the occasional in transit dragon, staying a few days between destinations. For the most part, everybody behaved. Ginger grew to like him. The school groups were fun. 

And he thought that was enough, would be enough.

He was wrong.

--

Taglist: @blueeyesatnight  @fandom-blackhole @sarahjkl82-blog @cannedsoupsucks @liviiii98 @adriiibell @pbeatriz @oonajaeadira @kiizhikehn-cedar @green-socks @withakindheartx @linkpk88 @anditsmywholeheart @ohheyitsokay @amneris21 @myguiltypleasures21 @javierpinme @grogusmum @eri16 @pintsizemama @pedrostories @kirsteng42 @alexxavicry @elegantduckturtle @pjkimrn @trash-dino-5000 @mswarriorbabe80 @magikfanatic @luz-introvertida @hb8301 @saradika @bruxasolta @lowlights @seasonschange-butpeopledont @princessxkenobi @chaoticgeminate @thirddeadlysin @beskarprincessjenny @evyiione @eri @the-feckless-wonder @janebby @idreamofboobear @jaime1110 @recklessworry @hotchlover @bowtiesandsandshoes @scorpio-marionette @buckybarneshairpullingkink @snarwor @borinquenasoy @practicalghost @beecastle @quica-quica-quica @queridopascal @littlemisspascal @phandoz @tintinn16 @avatarkanemi 

[chilucult]

posting my chiluc smut here first bc I don't have an ao3 account (yet)! will post the ao3 link once I get an account and get it posted.

again, this is smut, minors begone.

also, this is my first fic ever, so feel free to roast me.

another warning, this is long (~10k words)

fic under the cut!

The Fatui Harbinger had been coming to the Angel’s Share for the past few nights. He called himself “Childe”. Diluc was not very fond of him, what with him being with the Fatui and all, but he was a paying customer, so Diluc treated him as he did every other patron. Diluc just wished this Childe guy would treat him like every other bartender.

“Can I get another shot? Pretty please, oh pretty barkeep?” Ajax batted his eyes at Diluc, noticing the man give a slight eye roll before he began to pour the Harbinger his requested shot.

Ajax had been trying to get the attention of this particular bartender for some nights now. When he had first entered the Angel’s Share tavern, his sight had tunnel-visioned on the entrancing man behind the bar with fiery red hair. Ajax knew he had to have him. The bartender, Diluc, his name tag read, was not as perceptive to Ajax’s advances as he had hoped he would be.

Diluc set down the shot he had ordered in front of him, jerking him out of his musings. “Would you like me to add this to your tab, sir?” Diluc asked him, all business. Oh, but Ajax would never tire of hearing the man’s voice, wanting to hear how it sounded when it was screaming his name.

Ajax cocked his head to the side to appreciate the view from a different angle. “Yes, please; and like I said, call me Childe.” He tried not to get discouraged when he saw Diluc scoff a bit. “Actually, you can call me anything you like,” he shot back with a wink.

Diluc only scoffed again, wiping down a glass from another customer. “I’m not going to call you by some made-up name. ‘Childe’ is ridiculous, anyway,” he explained, choosing to ignore the wink the Fatui man had sent him.

Ajax downed his shot easily, smirking slightly at Diluc’s raised eyebrow. “I told you that you could call me anything you want. Although, I certainly didn’t mind ‘sir’ either, if that’s what you’re into,” Ajax all but purred, his eyes half lidded in intent.

Diluc chuckled a bit sarcastically at that. “Wouldn’t you like to know,” he shot back, only resorting to responding in such a manner because the Harbinger was pushing his buttons.

Ajax leaned forward on the bar, getting closer to the man of his desires. “Oh I would absolutely love to know just exactly what you’re into,” he whispered darkly, knowing that Diluc could still hear his every word. Ajax mentally pumped his fist when he saw Diluc inhale sharply at that.

Diluc narrowed his eyes at the man in front of him. “Are you... flirting with me?” he asked, genuinely unsure.

Ajax’s eyes widened at the question before he sat back on his barstool with a laugh. “‘Am I flirting with you?’! Um, yeah, actually, have been for the past few days,” he laughs again, thinking it absurd that it took Diluc this long to figure out. “But thanks for noticing, I guess.” He still shook his head to himself, wondering if he had lost his flirting skills or if Diluc was just particularly dense.

Diluc felt his cheeks start to heat up, and quickly turned his back to the Harbinger. The Harbinger that was flirting with him. Diluc couldn’t understand why. The man was clearly out of Diluc’s league, surely he hadn’t missed all the other patrons in the tavern staring at him, had he? So, as he fiddled with empty glasses, wiping them down just to have something to occupy his hands with, he softly asked, “Why?”

Ajax tore his eyes from where he was blatantly staring at Diluc’s ass to meet the man’s hesitant eyes looking over his shoulder. “Why? Are you kidding me? You’re kidding right?” Diluc broke their eye contact, shyly looking down at the floor, which was not what Ajax wanted. “I don’t think we have time to cover my entire list of reasons, Red.” Diluc looked back at him questioningly, both at the nickname and the statement.

“You just look so... breathtaking.” Diluc turned back around to face Ajax, but couldn’t meet his eyes just yet. “Since I first saw you a few nights ago, I knew I just had to have you. I wanna know how beautiful you look when you let your hair down, what kinds of noises you’ll make when I pull on it. Wanna know how you sound after I’ve broken you, how you’ll look after I’ve made a mess of you,” Ajax murmured, slowly standing from his stool and crowding into Diluc as much as he could with the bar between them. He smirked victoriously when he saw Diluc breathing a bit heavier, his cheeks flushed a bright pink.

A loud clang from somewhere in the tavern jolted them apart, someone probably having knocked over their drink. Diluc’s eyes darted about the place, hoping no one had seen them just now. “Oh my- gods, you can’t say stuff like that here, I’m working,” he seethed, attempting to convey his annoyance, but knowing the Harbinger could probably see right through him.

“Not here?” Ajax repeated, a feral grin beginning to grow on his face. “So I could do it, say, in your bedroom?” He asked suggestively.

Diluc couldn’t deny his attraction to the Fatui man. He was hot, what could Diluc say? He had just never thought the man would be interested in him, but he had clearly been wrong. Plus, the things that he had been talking about did sound rather enticing...

He lowered his voice, praying to the gods that none of the other patrons in the tavern could hear what he was saying. “If I say yes, will you quit... teasing me for the rest of my shift?”

Ajax pulled away a bit, suddenly serious. “Hey now, don’t make it sound like I’m forcing you. If you really want me to cut it out and leave, just say the word and I’ll be gone.” He couldn’t stop the small smirk from gracing his lips as he said his next words. “But something tells me that you really don’t want me to stop.”

Diluc flushed, averting his eyes once again. “Do you think I would even consider going home with you if I didn’t want it?” He whispered, embarrassed to have to admit his desires, but also wanting to make his intentions clear.

Ajax grinned wickedly. “Perfect,” he purred. “So when do you get off work, Red?”

Diluc pouted slightly at the nickname before he glanced at the clock on the wall. “In... a little less than an hour. Think you can be patient for that long?”

“If I get to take you home? I’d wait forever,” Ajax grinned easily. He could see Diluc’s cheeks redden, but could also see the weak glare the man sent his way. “Fine, fine. I’ll leave you to work in peace.”

For the next hour, Diluc tried to carry on with his work normally, he really tried. Yet, he found it impossible to ignore the stirring of emotions in his gut. He was excited for the night ahead, yes, but there was also nervousness and anxiety eating away at him. He knew he wasn’t the most... experienced person out there. He had only ever slept with one girl years ago, finding it not to his liking. He had never even been with a man (unless you count that one guy he made out with a few years back). He hoped his inexperience wouldn’t be a dealbreaker for the man.

He also found it hard to ignore the presence of the Harbinger. He had kept his word, not making any more moves at Diluc, but Diluc couldn’t shake the feeling of the other man’s eyes tracking his every movement. Every so often when Diluc would sneak a peek at him, he would find the Harbinger shamelessly staring at him, eyes roaming over his body slowly, hungrily. He couldn’t help the flush in his cheeks, nor the way he fidgeted self-consciously with his apron.

When Charles came to finally relieve Diluc of his bartending duties, he could see the clear excitement in the Harbinger’s eyes. Diluc took off his apron, leaning in close to the man to whisper, “Meet me out back.” He almost laughed at the way the man bolted from his seat.

Ajax was waiting patiently behind the tavern for only a few minutes before the fiery redhead made his appearance. “So, where to, Red?” His lips twitched into a small smile as they began walking, noticing that Diluc was just slightly shorter than him.

Diluc grumbled to himself, “Since you’ve been coming to the tavern for days, I would’ve hoped you’d bother to read my name tag once.” He continued when the man beside him chuckled, nodding his head in the direction of the city gates. “The manor is a bit outside the city, hope you don’t mind a bit of a walk.”

Ajax cut himself off from the smooth retort of I’d walk to the ends of the earth to get you into bed with me to look at Diluc inquisitively. “Wait... manor?”

Diluc went on to explain that he owned the winery in Mondstadt, as well as the large manor house that was on the property. He also mentioned that he owned the tavern they were just at, internally preening at the impressed look on the Harbinger’s face.

After that, a silence fell between the two as they walked. Diluc didn’t seem to be one to make small talk much, and Ajax was perfectly fine just taking in the scenery, not feeling the need to run his mouth for once. It was comfortable.

Diluc was infinitely glad that he dismissed his house staff early each night, comforted by the fact that there would be no interruptions. As soon as he walked through the front door, his back was being shoved against the hard wood, the gasp he let out being swallowed by the incessant lips capturing his own. His eyes fell closed as he was kissed breathless against the door, a gloved hand gripping his hip and pinning him in place. Diluc slowly raised a hand to rest on the man’s shoulder as his mouth was invaded by the other’s tongue.

Diluc ripped his head back once the Harbinger gave him room to breathe. “H-hold on,” he panted, tilting his head slightly as the man hummed against the skin of his jaw in response. “I have... two things. F-first,” he stuttered out as the skin beneath his jaw was nipped lightly. “You need to tell me your name. I- I’m not calling you Childe.” His eyebrows furrowed in distaste at the name, even while his eyes slipped shut once again from the soft kisses being left on his neck.

Ajax chuckled against the skin of Diluc’s neck. He peppered light kisses across the skin of his jaw, making his way to the other’s ear, where he whispered, “It’s Ajax. Please do remember it, I want to hear you screaming it for me tonight.” He nipped at the skin just below Diluc’s ear, smirking at the way the man shivered slightly.

Diluc nodded absently, mouthing the name Ajax to see how it felt on his lips. He let his head fall back against the door as the man- Ajax- continued a trail down his throat. He hummed in content as his lips were captured in a searing kiss once again, only to have the noise turn into a weak whine as Ajax pulled away much sooner than Diluc would have liked.

“Didn’t you have another thing to say, baby?” Ajax questioned, reveling in the hitch in Diluc’s breath at the use of the pet name. Once his words registered with Diluc, he could notice the other man’s demeanor change, suddenly shy. His cheeks were flushed more in embarrassment than arousal, and his hand was nervously fidgeting with the clothes on Ajax’s shoulder. Ajax pulled himself back a bit, trying to give Diluc more room to get out whatever it was that he wanted to say.

“I- I’ve never... I mean, with a, uh, guy, at least... I’ve never, um... done... this,” he stammered out weakly, his words trailing off at the end. Diluc couldn’t bring himself to meet Ajax’s eyes, but he doubted he would’ve been able to read any expression on his face.

There was a moment's pause before Diluc heard Ajax ask, “Do you want to stop?” If there was any judgement in his voice, Diluc certainly couldn’t find it.

If Diluc thought he couldn’t get any more embarrassed than he already was, he was wrong. He internally cringed at how quick he was to respond. “No. No. I want... this. I just... thought you should, uh, know,” he finished weakly. He was emboldened, encouraged to continue by the soft smile on Ajax’s face. “Besides... you still need to follow through with your words,” he taunted, choosing to ignore the flush on his cheeks at the reminder of Ajax’s filthy promises.

The soft grin of Ajax’s face turned sharp as he crowded Diluc against the door once again. He buried his face into the side of the man’s neck, leaving a bite there before whispering against the skin, “Oh, baby. I’m gonna make it so good for you.” He reached down the grab Diluc’s thigh, using the grip he had on his hip with his other hand to lift the redhead, properly pinning him against the door. He smirked at the gasp Diluc let out, the way his legs scrambled to wrap around his waist.

Diluc was thriving. His head was tilted back against the door, his eyes slipped shut in pleasure. Diluc knew he was a large man, his muscles built well and even a bit bulky in some areas. So the way in which Ajax easily lifted him off the ground and was still supporting his weight against the door, was a bit shocking to Diluc. And, apparently, quite the turn on, if the rapid hardening in his pants was anything to go by. Diluc was glad that his long coat was still on, covering what had to be an obvious tent in his pants. He was embarrassed to be so turned on by just a little making out, but perhaps it was just the effect that Ajax had on him.

Ajax continued leaving a trail of bite marks down Diluc’s throat, encouraged by the way Diluc would tilt his head to the side, offering Ajax a larger expanse of skin to mark. “I’m gonna ruin you for anyone else,” he muttered into Diluc’s skin darkly. He bit down at a spot at the base of Diluc’s throat rasher harshly, leaving his lips on the skin to suck on the mark, ensuring it would leave a nice bruise. He glanced up at the sound of a muffled whimper to see Diluc biting his bottom lip, no doubt in an attempt to keep his noises at bay.

Ajax let go of his hip, bringing his hand up to thumb at Diluc’s lower lip, urging him to release it from between his teeth. Diluc complied easily, his eyes slipping open when Ajax tutted at him. “Nuh uh, let me hear you, baby. I wanna hear all the beautiful noises you can make,” he smirked slightly at the small whimper that escaped from Diluc’s lips. “Let me hear how good I make you feel,” he finished with a whisper.

Diluc’s hands flew to the back of Ajax’s head, gripping his hair and bringing him down for a sloppy kiss. Ajax groaned into Diluc’s mouth, his tongue slipping between the other’s lips easily. With his free hand, Ajax attempted to push the heavy coat off of Diluc’s shoulders, but with his back pinned against the door, it was futile. He groaned into Diluc’s mouth again, this time in annoyance, before he ripped himself away from the mouth that was quickly becoming addicting.

Diluc could see that Ajax was about to say something, but cut him off. “Bedroom,” he panted out, knowing Ajax was thinking the same thing. Ajax let him down and nodded at him, and that was all Diluc needed. He grabbed the man’s hand, almost running through the manor to get to the stairs, zipping through the halls to get to his bedroom. He led Ajax into the room, seeing Ajax kick the door closed behind him, before he was promptly thrown onto his own bed.

Diluc gasped as he bounced back on the bed, his length twitching in his pants. He quickly kicked off his socks and shoes as he saw Ajax doing the same, before Ajax pounced on him. His mouth was everywhere, leaving kisses and bites so quickly that Diluc couldn’t even process it before he would move on to a new spot. His hands moved in a frenzy as well, hastily reaching for Diluc’s hands to strip him of his gloves.

Ajax pulled at the collar of Diluc’s coat, wanting the material off hours ago. The coat was still proving difficult, as he had to get Diluc to work his arms out of it, and Ajax declared the coat his new nemesis. He slowed his mouth leaving marks all along Diluc’s neck, carefully getting Diluc to help him pull his arms out of the offending jacket. He pulled back a bit to let Diluc sit up so he could throw the coat to the ground, Ajax delighted to finally be rid of it.

As happy as he was to be rid of Diluc’s coat, Ajax groaned in annoyance at the sight of more layers of clothing hiding the bare skin he so desperately wanted to see. He did take a moment to appreciate Diluc in his bartending uniform, the black dress shirt and white vest making him look oh so cute when paired with his flushed face and heaving chest. Ajax dived in again, mouthing at Diluc’s neck. “So. Many. Fucking. Layers,” he huffed out into Diluc’s skin, impatiently undoing the buttons of his vest.

Diluc let out a breathless laugh, his breathing still heavy from all the attention Ajax was giving his neck. “I don’t see you- ah. I don’t see you taking anything off,” he panted out, thinking it was a bit unfair that he was the only one being undressed. He let one of his hands move to Ajax’s hip, sliding up to feel the small stretch of skin that was exposed by the cut of his shirt. He let his hand wander further up beneath Ajax’s shirt, sucking in a breath at the feeling of abs and corded muscle.

Ajax hummed against the skin of Diluc’s neck at the feeling of his hand against his own bare skin. “All in good time, baby,” he chuckled, pulling away as he had finally gotten the vest unbuttoned. “For now, I want to see how beautiful you are under all these clothes,” he murmured as rid Diluc of the vest.

Diluc squirmed against the bed as Ajax slowly undid the buttons of his dress shirt, not used to being stared at so intensely. Ajax’s eyes were glued to where his hands were meticulously undoing each button, hungrily eating up every inch of newly revealed skin. Once he undid the last button, he unceremoniously pushed it to Diluc’s sides, putting his entire bare torso on display.

Ajax could do nothing but stare. The man laid out before him was breathtaking, and he wasn’t even fully undressed yet. Ajax wasn’t sure if he would make it through this night alive. But oh it would be such a glorious death. He was so caught up in letting his eyes wander about the wide expanse of skin that he didn’t notice Diluc wriggling his arms out of the sleeves. He only noticed when Diluc sat up a bit to toss the shirt to the floor, his abs clenching deliciously.

Diluc continued to squirm against the sheets, hating that Ajax was staring at him silently for so long. He didn’t find Diluc unattractive, did he? Diluc knew that much of his muscle mass was pretty well hidden beneath his clothes, but without them, there was no hiding it. He prayed to the gods that Ajax didn’t mind his extra bulk. “Ajax,” he whined softly, a small pout to his lips.

Diluc whining his name finally snapped Ajax out of his reverie. “Gods,” he whispered, letting his gloved hands slide up Diluc’s chest, coming to cup the pectoral muscles. “So fucking beautiful,” he whispered again, still entranced by the way the flush on Diluc’s cheeks continued down his neck and to his check, covering the pale skin in bright red splotches. His eyes flicked up to Diluc’s face. “Oh, one more thing.” He reached behind Diluc’s head to undo the ponytail that was holding his hair back. After running his fingers through the locks, he leaned back to admire the view.

And what a view he was. Diluc’s face flushed a bright pink, red splotches of blush littering his beautiful pale skin, his chest rising with each breath he took. All of this, framed by a halo of fiery red hair, the curls spilling out and spreading across the sheets.

Ajax’s patience snapped. He dove down to leave a harsh bite at the meat of Diluc’s pectoral muscle, his hands feverishly wanting to map out every dip and curve.

Diluc let out a small “ah-“ at the harsh bite. A high-pitched keening noise ripped from his throat as Ajax laves his tongue over a nipple.

Ajax chuckled through his nose. “Do you like that? Does it feel good?” he murmured into the skin. Diluc let out a whine in response, which simply wouldn’t do, in Ajax’s opinion. “Diluc baby,” he began, pressing a chaste kiss to the man’s lips. “I want you to answer me when I ask you something, okay? I need to make sure you’re still comfortable and enjoying this. Need to know what makes you feel good. Think you can do that for me?” He grinned as Diluc nodded his head. “Good boy,” he whispered, planting another soft kiss to Diluc’s lips before making his way down his chest again.

Ajax blew on one of Diluc’s nipples softly, enjoying the way Diluc shivered in response. He took the bud lightly between his teeth before closing his lips around it. Diluc let out a soft moan at the feeling of Ajax’s tongue, his hand flying up to rest on the Harbinger’s shoulder. Ajax pulled back enough to purr, “Now let me ask you again. Does that feel good? Do you like getting your nipples played with?”

Ajax smirked to himself when Diluc nodded his head again, before whimpering out an answer. “Y-yeah... yes, it- fuck- it feels good.” Ajax switched his attention to the man’s other nipple, almost getting thrown off his body from how hard his chest was heaving.

Diluc let out another curse. Ajax pulled his mouth back to watch his hands move across the pale skin. His hands came to rest, cupping under the pectoral muscles and pushing them up and together. “Gods, I fucking love your chest,” Ajax breathed to himself; he knew Diluc could hear him from the way his breath hitched in his throat. “Just like a pair of tits,” he mused, squishing the muscles together. He smirked at the way Diluc’s breath was punched from his gut. “So fucking hot...”

Ajax looked up to see that Diluc’s mouth was opening and closing, as if he was trying to say something. “Yes, baby?” he asked, his hands stilling. “Did you want something?”

Diluc nodded, tugging slightly at the material of Ajax’s shirt. “O-off. Please... a-at least the gloves, fuck, please.”

Ajax was now positive he would not survive the night.He couldn’t believe this was Diluc’s first time, not with the way he begged so pretty. He didn’t even need to tell the other to say please. Perhaps he was a natural-born pleaser, Ajax thought to himself.

He snapped his attention back to Diluc when the other tugged at his clothes once more. “Oh, such a good boy, telling me what you want. So polite, too,” he cooed at Diluc. He hummed in consideration for a moment before an idea came to him. He regretfully removed one of his hands from Diluc’s chest, bringing it up to Diluc’s face, the fingertips of his gloves a hairbreadth away from Diluc’s shiny lips. “Would you be so kind as to help me with the gloves, hm?”

Ajax watched in twisted delight as Diluc slowly took the fabric of the middle finger of his glove between his teeth. He pulled his hand back a bit, happy to see Diluc rear his head back, the glove sliding off Ajax’s hand with ease. “Good,” he whispered to himself, taking the glove from Diluc’s mouth. He brought his other hand up, and Diluc helped him out of that glove as well.

Ajax tossed his gloves to the side carelessly, too excited to finally feel Diluc’s skin with his bare hands. He trailed his hands slowly from Diluc’s jaw down his neck, heat pooling in him as Diluc tilted his head further back to allow him more room. He trailed his hands down the other’s chest, feeling his pounding heartbeat, then further down, watching his abs twitch at the featherlight touches.

His hands ended up cupped around Diluc’s pecs once again. His hands massaged the muscle there as he mouthed at the skin. When he heard Diluc let out a pleased sigh, he bit down, gnawing at the muscle between his teeth. The sudden bite caused Diluc to gasp sharply, his eyes flying open to see Ajax’s mouth on his chest. Ajax released the muscle, giving the aggravated area a few licks and kisses to soothe the sting before he smirked up at Diluc. “Do you like me marking up your gorgeous tits? They’re gonna bruise so pretty...” he trailed off, moving to leave a similar bite mark on the other side of Diluc’s chest, a punched out “fuck-“ leaving Diluc’s lips at the sting.

Ajax was mouthing at the newest bite mark when he raised a questioning eyebrow at Diluc. Diluc gulped. “Yes...” he breathed out softly, hoping Ajax could hear him. “Hurts but... f-feels good. P-please don’t st-stop,” he whimpered, moving his free hand to Ajax’s hair in an attempt to keep him in place.

Ajax groaned into the skin of Diluc’s chest, “Gods, you’re such a good boy for me.” He made note of how Diluc’s hips bucked up at that, and filed the thought away for later.

Ajax spent the next few minutes leaving harsh bites all over Diluc’s chest, soothing the mark with kisses each time. Diluc felt as if he was on cloud nine, the deep sting from the initial bite sending electricity up his spine, only for heat to curl in his gut at the kisses left there afterwards. However, he was getting a bit impatient. His dick was rock hard in his pants, and he could feel a wet patch beginning to grow in his boxers. Diluc wanted to get his pants off. Actually, Diluc revised his own thoughts, he wanted to get Ajax out of his clothes even more, the Fatui man not even having shed his shirt yet.

Diluc tightened his hold in Ajax’s hair just slightly, tugging on his shirt with his other hand. “Off... plea- hng- please. W-wanna... wanna see- oh fuck- you too,” Diluc panted out, pleased that he could even get out coherent words at that point.

Ajax would never get tired of hearing Diluc beg. He breathed out a shaky, “Fuck... okay,” before he pulled back enough to tear his shirt off, throwing it who knows where. He could see Diluc eyeing him appreciatively, but didn’t give him much time to enjoy the view before he was kissing the other man senseless.

Diluc groaned into Ajax’s mouth, his hands sliding down the man’s back, finally attaining the skin-on-skin contact he didn’t know he craved. He let his hands wander and feel to make up for what his eyes weren’t able to see. From his exploration, he could tell that the other was covered in scars, both old and new, as well as the fact that he was much stronger than he appeared, corded muscles tense beneath his skin.

Diluc was slightly amused by the fact that Ajax’s hands returned to his chest almost immediately. It made Diluc feel... almost confident, the fact that Ajax seemed to like it so much. So, he arched his back, pushing his chest further into those incessant hands.

“Fuck,” Ajax breathed harshly into Diluc’s mouth. His hands squeezed around the muscles. “So fucking hot,” he panted out, moving to mouth at the other’s jaw. “Bet if I squeezed ‘em together, I could get my dick in between and fuck your tits,” he rambled, words spilling from his mouth before he could really even think about it.

Diluc absolutely keened at that, his head thrown back as a high whine escaped his throat. His reaction only spurred Ajax on. “Yeah? Would you like that baby? Want me to fuck your tits?” he mumbled into Diluc’s skin, the idea almost sending him into a frenzy. Diluc was faring no better. His eyes were pinched shut, pushing his chest out even further, a constant stream of “yes, yes, yes” falling from his lips.

It was only when Diluc desperately ground his hips up into Ajax’s that the Harbinger remembered his main goal for the night. He took a deep breath to calm himself. “Maybe later, baby,” he said, chuckling at the small pout Diluc gave him in response. “Definitely later,” he revised, happy to see Diluc perk up at that too. “For now, though,” he trailed his hands down Diluc’s chest, over his abs, and toying with the waistband of his pants. “Let's get you out of these, shall we?”

Diluc was all too eager to lift his hips to help Ajax undress him, any shyness at being bared being overshadowed by his desire. Ajax tossed his pants to the side, eyeing the large bulge in his boxers with a hungry gaze. Diluc let out a breathy whine as Ajax palmed him, finally giving his cock attention. He cursed when Ajax lowered his head to mouth at him through the fabric, hot breath and saliva dampening the material even further. Ajax hummed against his length, breathing out, “Gods, how are you even real?” as his hands slid up Diluc’s thighs.

Diluc cried out as Ajax dug his fingers into the meat of Diluc’s thighs, causing the Harbinger to groan. “Fuck, baby, your thighs,” he whispered reverently against Diluc’s length, feeling it twitch beneath the fabric. He trailed his mouth down to suck a mark into the flesh of the redhead’s inner thigh. “Can I mark ‘em up? Bruise ‘em all nice and pretty to match your tits? Mark ‘em as mine?” Ajax purred.

Diluc sucked in a wet, heaving breath. “Yes, please- oh fuck,” he panted out. He let one of his hands trail to his own chest, pressing his finger into one of the dark red marks that will surely bruise later. “Can you... can you- ah! B-bite? Fuck, please?” Diluc begged, craving the sting of Ajax’s teeth again.

Ajax groaned, reaching a hand down to adjust himself in his pants. “‘Course, baby,” he whispered. He returned his hand, using it to pull Diluc’s boxers off. Diluc squirmed at being fully bare, but Ajax just pressed a sweet kiss to his shaft, his hand wrapped around the base. He let himself begin to ramble as he slowly stroked Diluc’s cock. “Gonna mark up these perfect thighs. Gods, you’re gonna be so bruised tomorrow, you’ll look so gorgeous. Gonna mark you up so everyone knows you’re mine.”

Diluc couldn’t stop the near constant stream of moans and whimpers from leaving his lips. The feeling of Ajax’s hand finally on his dick is heavenly, and the man’s whispered words only add fuel to the fire in his gut. He lets out a sharp cry as Ajax’s teeth sink into the meat of his inner thigh, the noise turning into a low groan as Ajax soothes the sting with his tongue.

Ajax only removed his head from between Diluc’s thighs once he was satisfied that the redhead was as marked up as possible. He really hoped Diluc wouldn’t kick him out once they were done, he wanted to see how well all his marks turned into bruises for himself in the morning. He pulled his mouth away from Diluc’s thighs, stroking a finger over the bite-mark covered skin reverently. “These are gonna look so good, baby,” he murmured. “Can’t wait to see you covered in my bruises.”

Diluc whined, his hips jumping as the pace of Ajax’s hand on his cock had slowed significantly. Ajax must have noticed, because he was soon licking small stripes up the entire length. Small cries and high pitched whimpers were ripped from Diluc’s throat. He turned his head to the side, knowing that the sight of Ajax between his thighs with his mouth on his cock could probably make him cum.

Ajax trailed his lips up the shaft, planting a sloppy kiss right at the tip. “Love this fucking cock,” he mumbled, mostly to himself. He grinned at the moan Diluc let out. “Want me to suck it? Bet you taste so good,” he rambled, eyes eager to see Diluc’s reaction. “I can usually swallow everything, but you’re so big I might just choke on it.” He delighted in the hitch in Diluc’s breath, the way his hips jumped. “I’d love it though, choking on it. I’d let you gag me with it, ‘til I can’t breathe.”

He grinned evilly as Diluc let out a loud whine. “But maybe later.” With that, he sat up completely, leaving only his hand wrapped loosely around the base of Diluc’s length. He chuckled as Diluc balked at him, having had all the pleasurable sensations ripped away. “Sorry baby, but I gotta ask: do you want to top or bottom?” Ajax desperately wanted to fuck the other man, but since it was his first time, he figured he would let the redhead make the decision.

Diluc flushed, averting his eyes. “Oh, I, um, uh... w-want you to... to, um, f-fuck me,” he stammered out before blearing his throat. “Please.”

Ajax wanted so badly to hop on board with that and absolutely destroy the other man, but he felt it was only fair to give him a warning. “Are you sure, baby? It might hurt a bit,” he said cautiously.

Diluc took a deep breath, steeling himself. “Yes, I’m sure. And I- I... I trust you,” he finished quietly.

Ajax smiled, swooping down to press a soft kiss to Diluc’s forehead. “Alright. Don’t worry, baby, I’ll take care of you.” He planted a final kiss on the tip of Diluc’s nose, watching it scrunch up adorably. He patted the man lightly on the hip. “Turn over onto your stomach for me, baby. Also, lube?”

Diluc’s eyes widened a bit, heat rising to his cheeks before he complied, nodding his head toward the nightstand. As he was turning, he heard Ajax rummaging around through the drawer before closing it and tossing the bottle onto the bed next to him. Ajax grabbed a pillow from the headboard and placed it under his hips, making him flush further at the thought of his ass being put on display. Once he was settled, he grabbed a pillow to hug to his chest, giving himself something to keep his hand occupied with. He heard Ajax chuckle behind him, turning his head to look at the man questioningly, only to hear, “Of course you have a perfect ass as well,” spilling from the Harbinger’s lips.

Diluc jumped slightly when Ajax grabbed his ass without ceremony, a handful of cheek in each. He relaxed once again when Ajax began massaging his ass, kneading the flesh in his hands. He let out a soft hum, content. He didn’t even notice that Ajax had pulled his cheeks apart until he felt a thumb softly run over his hole. He jolted in surprise, making Ajax pull away, a worried look in his eyes. Diluc turned his head to the side, but wouldn’t make eye contact. “Sorry, sorry” he breathed out. “Just... surprised me. Keep going. Please,” he finished weakly.

Ajax wasn’t entirely convinced. “You sure?” he asked, not wanting to cause Diluc any discomfort. Diluc nodded his head eagerly where it lay on the pillow, and Ajax let out a bated breath. He put his hands back on Diluc’s ass, comforted by the way Diluc seemed to immediately relax into the touch. “Have you ever had anything in you before?” he asked quietly.

Diluc turned to hide more of his face into his pillow. “Mmfnhfnggrz” was the muffled response. Ajax could guess as to what was said, but he really wanted to hear Diluc say it himself. He continued to massage Diluc’s asscheeks, thumbs occasionally brushing the skin closer to his crack, but never getting any closer to his hole. “Hm, what was that baby? I couldn’t understand you.”

Ajax grinned as Diluc turned his head to face him more, his face almost as red as his hair, his eyes looking anywhere but at the Harbinger. “I- I’ve used, um... my- my fingers before,” he whispered.

Ajax’s grin morphed into a soft smile, encouraging Diluc to continue. “Mhmm. And how did it feel baby?” He tutted when Diluc buried his head in his pillow again, groaning in shame. “Hey, nothing to be embarrassed about, baby. I’m just trying to get more familiar with what your comfort level is. Like I said, I’m gonna make this good for you,” he explained, leaving a trail of soft kisses up Diluc’s spine.

Diluc turned his head to the side once again, his eyes pinching shut. “It felt...” he began, trailing off as he thought about the answer. “Fine,” he answered decisively. “Felt... felt full, it- it was good,” he sighed, the memory of his own fingers inside him fresh in his mind. “But it, uh, w-wasn’t enough to...” he trailed off, hoping Ajax would understand what he meant.

Ajax’s mind was reeling, head filled with thoughts and visions of Diluc desperately trying to fuck himself on his fingers, only to cry out in frustration when he can’t hit that perfect spot inside him. If he could ever get Diluc into bed with him again, he would need to make the redhead ringer himself open for him; Ajax was sure it would be an excellent show.

He was snapped out of his thoughts when Diluc’s hips twitched a bit, pushing his ass back into Ajax’s hands. He planted one final kiss to Diluc’s shoulder before sitting up once again. “Don’t worry, baby. I’m gonna make you feel so good you’ll see stars,” he chuckled breathlessly, watching as Diluc minutely thrusted into the pillow beneath his hips.

Diluc startled at the snap of the lube cap opening, relaxing again as Ajax pressed a comforting kiss on one of his cheeks. He inhaled sharply as Ajax’s thumbs spread his cheeks apart once more. “Gods, I’d love to eat you out one day,” he heard the Harbinger mumble into his skin, his hips thrusting against the pillow weakly at the thought. Ajax must’ve noticed, for he continued, “Would you like that, baby? Would you let me eat your ass?” As he said it, one of his hands disappeared, only to return moments later, spreading warmed lube across Diluc’s entrance with a thumb.

Diluc’s breath caught in his throat at the familiar feeling of the substance. What wasn’t familiar, however, was the feeling of someone’s else’s hands doing the work. They had barely even started, but Diluc already decided that he liked this much better than doing it himself.

The redhead’s breath escaped him in a shaky exhale as Ajax pushed just the tip of his thumb in, the rim fluttering around the intrusion. Ajax was keeping a keen eye out for any signs of discomfort from Diluc; when he found none, he slowly edged his thumb further in, up to the first knuckle. Diluc let out a quiet moan, his hips pushing back when Ajax stilled. Encouraged, Ajax continued.

He twisted his thumb around a bit, feelings Diluc’s walls stretch around him. He pulled his thumb this way and that, stretching the rim a bit further. Diluc was humming softly, quiet moans falling from his lips every so often. Ajax removed his thumb, smiling at the whine that escaped Diluc’s throat from the loss. He shushed the redhead quietly, leaving soft kisses along his thighs.

Ajax slid his index finger into Diluc, meeting little resistance. He reveled in the moan the man let loose, his volume having increased ever so slightly. He slid his finger in to the base, Diluc’s shoulders tensing a bit. “Doing okay?” Ajax asked softly, stilling his hand.

“Yeah,” Diluc gasped out. “Keep going.”

Ajax nodded softly, despite the fact that Diluc couldn’t actually see him. He slowly pulled his finger out until only the tip remained inside, and was just as slow in pushing it back in. Ajax was doing his best to go slow, despite his desire to just ram into the man below him, but the groan Diluc let out and the way his hips pushed back into his finger were really testing his restraint.

“So fucking good,” Ajax mumbled. He curled his finger a bit inside Diluc, the man letting out a whine. He removed his finger, two returning to Diluc’s hole before the redhead could even protest the loss. He slid his fingers in slowly, two being more of a stretch, pleased when Diluc only pushed his hips back further. “Take my fingers so well,” he murmured reverently. He paused as his fingers met some resistance around his knuckles, pulling them back only to push back in, loosening Diluc’s rim more.

Ajax slowly fucked his two fingers in and out of Diluc’s hole, the redhead letting out wet, panting breaths into the pillow he had clutched to his chest. After a short bit of time doing this, Ajax was able to slide both fingers in entirely, letting out a shaky breath at the delicious groan Diluc let out. He stilled, mesmerized by the sight and feeling of Diluc’s rim clenching around the base of his fingers.

Diluc felt his hips twitch involuntarily in impatience. He turned his head to look at the man behind him, his face partially obscured by his own fiery red curls. “M-move... pl- please, more,” he whimpered out, desperate for the feel of Ajax’s fingers stretching him open.

Ajax let out a low groan as he retracted his fingers slowly. He pushed them back in quickly, grinning at the way Diluc’s breath was punched from his gut. He repeated the action, Diluc letting out a low moan this time. He continued this, withdrawing slowly, only to push back in quickly- quickly, but not very rough. At some point, Ajax realized he couldn’t hear Diluc’s noises as well, looking up to find the man biting at his pillow.

Ajax tsked, using his free hand to grab some of Diluc’s hair and pull. A split second after he did it, he thought that he really should’ve been gentler, but the high, unabashed keen that was ripped from Diluc’s throat quelled his worries. He brought his lips down to Diluc’s ear, using the grip in his hair to get Diluc to arch his back just ever so slightly. “Nuh uh, baby. You gotta let me hear those beautiful noises, remember? You need to let me know how good I’m making you feel, hm?” he whispered, grinning dearly when Diluc took in a gulping gasp of air, his head nodding as much as it could with the grip Ajax still had on his hair. “Good boy.” He planted a kiss in Diluc’s hair, rewarding the man by twisting the fingers he still had inside him.

Diluc gasped at the feeling of the fingers inside him twisting, only for them to begin spreading apart, scissoring him open. This was always his favorite part of fingering himself, the feeling of his rim loosening, stretching further. He could never reach very far inside himself, but he did enjoy the feeling of being full. He enjoyed Ajax’s fingers much more than his own, as they were able to fill him as he desired, but they could also reach deep, hitting spots inside Diluc that had never been touched before.

“Feel good?” Ajax asked, snapping Diluc’s attention back to reality. Diluc heard a constant stream of soft whines and deep groans, embarrassed to find that he was the one making those noises. “Love the way you sound,” Ajax murmured, causing Diluc to flush, a sharp gasp leaving his lips as Ajax’s fingers curled inside him. “Yeah, just like that. Gods, so fucking hot.” Ajax slowed his fingers. “Tell me how it feels, baby,” the Harbinger ordered.

“Feels... oh fuck, good, feels so good,” Diluc blurted out, his pride nowhere to be found. “P-please, want- want... ah- want m-more,” he whimpered. “F-feel... mmmn- full, f-fuck. N-need... full, ple- hnngg- please?” Diluc really hoped that Ajax knew what he was begging for, because he sure didn’t know himself. “W-want- FUCK!” He cried out as Ajax curled his fingers just so, pressing against a spot inside him that made him dizzy with pleasure. He almost jackknifed off the bed, but Ajax’s free hand was quick to clamp down on his hip, keeping him firmly in place.

Ajax grinned sharply when he found the redhead’s prostate, his grin only growing at Diluc’s reaction, despite having to hold the man down. He stilled his fingers for a moment, knowing Diluc would need some time to collect himself. “Wh-... what was that?” Diluc asked hoarsely.

Ajax laughed. “That’s your prostate, baby. Really sensitive,” he explained, soothing his thumb over Diluc’s hip as the man was still taking shaky breaths. His grin turned wicked. “I told you I would make you see stars, didn’t I?” He fucked his fingers into Diluc’s hole again at the same angle, basking in the sharp cry that was ripped from Diluc’s throat. “Tell me how good it feels,” he whispered, his fingers continuing their motion.

Diluc had never felt such intense pleasure in his entire life. He felt as if Ajax’s two fingers had fucked the sanity out of him. “So- fuck- so good... yes, fuck, oh gods... m-more, pl- ah- please,” he begged, words spilling from his lips before he could even process what it was that he was even saying. A filthy noise was ripped from Diluc’s throat when Ajax added a third finger, still hitting the same spot inside him. Ajax had been thorough enough that the additional finger didn’t cause any pain, but Diluc reveled in the extra feeling of fullness.

When Ajax switched to keeping his fingers stuffed inside Diluc, fingertips massaging and rubbing circles into that sensitive spot inside him, Diluc’s hips began thrusting. He wasn’t quite sure if he was thrusting back into Ajax’s hands, or forward, rutting his dick into the pillow beneath his hips. All he knew was that he wanted more. As Ajax continued his ministrations with his fingers, Diluc could feel heat pooling in his gut. “Fuck, fuck, gods yes... so- hnngg- so full,” he panted out. “P-please, I’m- ah!- close, fuck, please.”

Ajax’s eyes lit up, hungrily watching Diluc rut between the pillow and his hand. “Yeah? You gonna cum on my fingers? Just from being stuffed full?” he teased sadistically, harshly thrusting his fingers in further for emphasis. He grinned manically, his dick positively leaking in his pants, at the noise Diluc let loose, almost sounding like a sob. Gods, he would love to fuck the redhead to the point of tears. He ground his fingers into Diluc’s prostate insistently. “Be a good boy and cum for me. Cum on my fingers, baby,” he murmured reverently.

Ajax was in awe. There was simply no other word for it. He watched as Diluc rutted into the pillow beneath him, suddenly freezing at his words, body tensed, as he let out a garbled whine high in his throat. The redhead was positively shaking through his orgasm, tremors running through his entire body as Ajax’s fingers worked him through his high. He retracted his fingers carefully once Diluc’s shoulders had finally relaxed again, his body still shaking.

The Harbinger gently coaxed Diluc to roll over onto his back, tossing the soiled pillow off the bed in the process. Ajax fell over top of him, leaving gentle kisses along the skin of his neck. “So wonderful, did so good for me,” he whispered the soothing words. “Perfect, just perfect.”

Diluc worked to open his eyes a fraction from where they were pinched shut, his body still wracked with tremors. “A-aren’t you g-gonna... f-fuck me? Y-you still ha- haven’t...” he trailed off, attempting to weakly gesture toward the rather obvious tent in Ajax’s pants with a shaky hand.

Ajax cooed at him. How sweet of him, he thought to himself. “Oh baby, you don’t need to worry about me.”

Diluc frowned, his eyebrows furrowing. “B-but... w-want you t-to fuck me? P-please?”

Ajax groaned at that. “Baby... you’re still going to be so sensitive,” he explained, trailing his fingers down to Diluc’s hips. The way Diluc’s hips twitched even at the light touch proving his point. “Are you sure?”

Diluc nodded his head eagerly. “Y-yes, please. W-want it. Wanna f-feel, feel you.” He could already feel his dick begin to twitch in interest again, and knew that it certainly wouldn’t take very long for him to get hard again.

Ajax sucked in a breath at that. “Gods, you’re incredible,” he whispered softly before continuing, his voice raised so that Diluc could hear. “Alright, baby, I’ll fuck you. You just have to let me know if it gets to be too much, okay?” When Diluc nodded, Ajax all but ripped his own pants off, eager to finally give his dick some attention.

Diluc was trying to angle his head to get a look at what Ajax had been hiding in his pants the whole night, curiosity taking over him, but the sound of the lube cap snapping open once more jolted him. Ajax hung his head over Diluc’s chest, letting out a soft hiss at his dick finally getting some contact. Diluc felt a sticky hand lightly pat the outside of his thigh. “Can you spread your legs for me, baby?” Ajax asked. Diluc complied, spreading his thighs apart, feeling heat rise to his cheeks as he slipped his eyes closed.

Ajax positioned his hands, one on Diluc’s hip, and the other grabbing the back of his thigh, pushing his knee towards his chest. He internally appreciated the flexibility of the man. He positioned the tip of his cock just outside Diluc’s hole, feeling the rim flutter at the contact. “I’ll go slow, okay?” He whispered into Diluc’s neck.

Diluc nodded, not trusting his voice enough to respond. He gasped sharply as the pressure against his rim increased, letting out a breathy cry as he felt the tip of Ajax’s length breach the ring of muscle. Diluc’s hands flew to Ajax’s shoulders once the Harbinger had gotten the head of his cock inside, nails digging into the flesh there. He could barely hear the deep groan that was ripped from Ajax’s throat over his own pounding heartbeat and gasping breaths.

Ajax had to still once he had gotten the head of his dick inside Diluc, worried he might cum if he pressed any further. Diluc was just so tight, wrapped deliciously around him. After taking a moment to collect himself, Ajax pressed further. It was overwhelming. All the punched out little “ah, ah, ah”s Diluc was letting out, the feeling of nails digging into the skin of his shoulders, the heat wrapped around his length, everything was flooding his senses.

He was about three-quarters of the way in when he was finally met with some resistance, Diluc tensing beneath him. Ajax peppered his face with kisses, stroking soothing thumbs over the skin of his hips and thighs. “Shhh, you’re doing so good, baby, so good,” he whispered. “You’re almost there, Diluc, only a little bit left. Don’t you want to take me? Don’t you want to be a good boy and take all of me?” He began slowly moving his length in and out of Diluc, never pushing any deeper.

Diluc sucked in a heaving breath, his chest trembling slightly. “Y-yeah,” he whispered, face positively burning. “K-keep going. Please.” Diluc let out a whimper when Ajax continued to press forward slowly, the stretch slightly uncomfortable, but eventually turning into a twisted form of pleasure that he couldn’t exactly describe.

Ajax’s head fell to Diluc’s shoulder with a moan when he finally bottomed out, drowning out the small whine from Diluc. “Good job, baby,” he panted out. “That’s everything. Can you feel me stretching you out? Tell me how good it feels,” he asked Diluc, needing to take another moment to compose himself before he came immediately.

“I- It’s a lot,” he rasped out. “S-so big, fuck. F-feel so... mmmn- so full.” He wriggled his hips back, wanting to feel more of the length inside him. He stilled once he felt the grip of Ajax’s hands tighten, the one on his thigh digging into a mark the Harbinger had left there. “Y-you can move,” he whispered, giving Ajax permission to do as he pleased.

Ajax groaned as he moved to mouth at the marks on Diluc’s chest, pleased to see that Diluc’s cock was hard once again. He pulled his hips back at a snail’s pace, until only the tip was left inside. He felt Diluc’s hole clench around him. “Baby, I am not gonna last very long,” he laughed out weakly. With that, he slid back in just as slowly, listening to the symphony of Diluc’s whimpers and whines.

After a few thrusts at such a sluggish pace, Diluc began to squirm. “F-faster... pl- ah- please,” he whispered.

Ajax’s patience was stretched thin. He was going so slow, making sure not to hurt Diluc, when all he wanted to do was ram the man into the mattress. He picked up his pace at Diluc’s plea, still going slower than he would like, but it still felt incredible. He swooped to capture Diluc’s lips in a kiss, swallowing all the gasps, grunts, whines, and moans the man let out at the increase in pace.

Eventually, Ajax’s pace had gradually increased to the point where he could hear his hips slapping against Diluc’s own. He tore himself away from the redhead’s mouth, moving to sit up on his knees in between Diluc’s spread legs, taking in the sight before him.

Diluc looked... wrecked. His chest was flushed a deep red, covered in bite marks, and positively heaving with every breath he took. His thighs, also covered in Ajax’s marks, were quivering in the Harbinger’s hold. And his face- wait, Ajax thought to himself.

His expression was obscured, an arm thrown over his face to cover it. Ajax halted his thrusts, keeping himself buried to the hilt. He ground his hips into Diluc’s slowly, taking in Diluc’s low groan. He let go of the man’s thigh, reaching up to grab Diluc’s wrist, pinning it to the bed above his head. “Let me see you, baby,” he cooed. “Wanna see your pretty little faces.” He let out a deep hum, feeling Diluc clench around him. “Gods, love seeing how wrecked you look. All from my cock.”

Diluc whined high in his throat, partially embarrassed at having Ajax see him in such a debauched state. But if he was being honest, he was feeling so good that he began to forget why he even cared. He nodded absently at what Ajax had said, then suddenly threw his head back as the Harbinger resumed his thrusts.

Ajax sped his hips up, pounding into Diluc now. He moved his hand from Diluc’s hip to wrap around the man’s cock, keeping his other hand where it was pinning Diluc’s arm above his head. Diluc cried out at the contact, his head thrashing about. Ajax angled his hips, aiming to hit that spot inside Diluc that made him see stars. He knew he had hit his target once Diluc let out a sob.

Ajax sped up the hand on the redhead’s cock, feral grin growing as he saw a tear spill from where Diluc’s eyes were pinched shut. “F-fuck, yes. I- I’m cl- mmmn- close. ‘M g-gonna cum, fuck.” Diluc’s cries rang through Ajax’s head as he panted harshly.

“Fuck, so tight. Look at you, crying on my cock,” his thrusts became sporadic as he saw more tears sliding down Diluc’s cheeks. “Open your eyes, baby. Want you to look at me when you cum, make sure you know I’m the one making you feel this good.” He groaned low in his throat when Diluc complied, ruby red eyes opening and locking onto his, hazy and fogged over with pleasure. Ajax watched in awe as more tears spilled over, bottom eyelashes wet and clumped together.

Diluc’s hips bucked into Ajax’s hand, the coil of heat in his gut about to snap. “Fuck,” he whimpered weakly. A sob was ripped from him as he shot his release over Ajax’s hand and across his own stomach, some even reaching his chest. He continued to sob, more tears leaking from his eyes as Ajax continued to stroke him through his high, his cock never stopping it’s thrusting into Diluc’s ass. He thought he could hear Ajax let out something that sounded like a curse, but couldn’t decipher what language it was in.

Ajax continued pounding into Diluc and stroking his dick until the man began to wince and whimper, body wracked in tremors once more. He let go of the man’s cock, spent length flopping into the mess on his stomach. He tore himself from Diluc’s hole; if he hadn’t been about two seconds away from cumming, he would’ve felt bad at the sharp wince he saw from Diluc. However, as it was, his only concern was getting himself off. He crawled his way up Diluc’s body in his knees until he was straddling the man’s ribs. His hand (partially covered in Diluc’s release, Ajax noticed belatedly) flew to his own dick as he began stroking himself desperately.

A filthy groan was ripped from his throat. His hand was flying in his cock, Diluc’s cum making the slide wet and slick. He pitched forward, breath knocked out of him as he saw Diluc’s eyes squint open blearily. His eyes darted to where he was stroking himself, only to notice that beneath his dick (which was an angry red) was Diluc’s chest, marked up with forming bruises and bite marks, a few streaks of pearly white completing the masterpiece.

“Can I- ah- cum on your chest, baby? Get it all messy? All over those pretty marks?” he panted, hoping Diluc would give him permission because he was going to cum within the next ten seconds. He gasped sharply as Diluc nodded, dazed. “Fuck,” he bit out aggressively. “Gonna cum on your pretty tits, baby.” With that, he came, shooting ropes of cum over Diluc’s chest exactly as promised. He took wheezing, gasping breaths of air in as he continued to stroke himself, riding out his high.

Diluc let his eyes slip shut, letting out a content hum as his chest was covered. Ajax hunched over him, dropping his head so that their foreheads were touching. “You did... so good, baby,” Ajax panted out, Diluc preening at the words. Once Ajax released Diluc’s hand that he had pinned to the mattress, Diluc slowly moved it to Ajax’s hair, bringing the man down for a kiss.

It was a rather pathetic kiss, more just panting into each other’s mouths. But it felt oh so intimate, just holding each other close after they both reached their highs, hands softly caressing any skin they could reach.

Ajax fluttered around Diluc’s face, leaving kisses on his skin and whispering praises between each brush of lips. “Such a good boy.” A kiss to Diluc’s temple. “So wonderful.” A kiss to his cheek. “Just beautiful.” A kiss to his forehead. “So perfect for me.” A kiss to his lips.

Ajax took a deep breath, resolving himself to finally sitting up and pulling away from Diluc. He clambered off of the man, eyes darting around the room in hopes to find his (or Diluc’s, honestly) boxers somewhere on the floor. Once he spotted them, he rolled off the bed and snatched them up. As he was pulling them up his legs, he noticed Diluc watching him with a small frown, eyes questioning.

“W- ... what are you doing?” he asked softly, his voice weak. Ajax delighted in hearing how hoarse his voice sounded, the way the words came out slightly raspy.

He finished pulling his boxers on, turning to Diluc with a soft smile. “Gotta get us cleaned up, baby. Bathroom is this way?” he asked, pointing to a door which he assumed led to the bathroom. At Diluc’s small nod, he went in. He couldn’t take in how impressive the bathroom was or how organized Diluc kept his things, too focused on trying to find a washcloth or a towel. After digging through some drawers, he finally found some washcloths. He used one to quickly clean himself up. Grabbing another one, he ran the cloth under warm water, soaking the fabric and wringing it out to make it damp, but not dripping.

He returned to the bedroom, washcloth in hand, to find Diluc slightly more alert, but still pretty out of it. He crawled onto the bed next to Diluc, slowly wiping up the mess on his stomach. As Ajax moved the cloth up to clean his chest, Diluc’s head fell to rest on his shoulder. He planted a kiss to the crown of Diluc’s head once he deemed the man clean. “Do you want some fresh clothes to put on, baby?” he asked in a whisper, not wanting to shock Diluc out of his relaxed state.

Diluc hummed in agreement. “Boxers... Top drawer,” he muttered softly, nodding his head towards a dresser by his closet. He felt immediately cold as soon as Ajax left his side again. He shivered slightly, watching the man rummage through the drawer he pointed out, coming back with a new pair of simple black boxers. Diluc felt his cheeks heat up as Ajax dressed him, pressing kisses to the skin of his legs as he dragged the fabric up.

Diluc sighed in content, happy to have Ajax next to him again. They stayed like that for a while, Diluc’s head resting on Ajax’s chest. Ajax was drawing small patterns into his biceps from where the Harbinger had his arms wrapped around him. They stayed like that until Diluc began to get drowsy, his breaths evening out and his eyes slipping shut. He was sleepy enough that he almost didn’t notice as Ajax slowly removed himself from beneath him, only noticing once he was completely off the bed. His eyes blinked open blearily, seeing Ajax tiptoe around his room in search of his clothes.

“Where are you going?” he asked sleepily, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

Ajax froze, the sound of Diluc’s voice startling him. He turned to the man. “I, uh, gotta grab my clothes. I, um, I figured you’d want me to leave, but I can’t exactly go without-“ he cut himself off as Diluc shook his head, then uttered the one word he had been hoping to hear all night.

“Stay.”

[ray-ray-writings]

Could I totally request a small angst of a reader who is dating Technoblade suddenly going missing only for everyone to find her weeks later in Dreams collection room, similar to how Dream has a cage for Skeppy? Cause it’s the one thing the blood god cares about? Like all the angst and grief Techno goes through trying to find her and how he just becomes more unhinged or maybe Dream taunting him once they all found out like “do you want to know exactly how long it took her to stop calling for you? Do you want to know the exact moment she gave up ever seeing you again? Do you want to know the exact second she became mine to control instead of yours to love?”

Ever with love - 🌻

🌻, your brain is so big. I love your ideas so much, they’re always so flipping good.

A Part of the Collection-Technoblade x gn!reader

Techno was going crazy.

No one had heard or seen you for two weeks. You told him you were going to visit the nearby village and that you’d be back in a few days. For the first few days, Techno and you chatted consistently through your communicators. But then you stopped responding to his messages.

After two days with no response, Techno himself made his way to the village to search for you. You’re not there. The villagers tell him that you had got what you went there for but that you had left a few days prior. With this information, Techno calculates that your messages stopped when you got about halfway back home.

He thanks the villagers before heading back out. He heads to the main area of the SMP and asks around. He literally questions everyone as to whether or not they’ve seen you.

It’s no’s at every turn.

It takes everything Techno has to hold himself back. To not storm into each and everyone’s home and property and tear it apart in search of you. He does force his way inside everyone’s home to “talk” to them. Most people just let him in and do what he needs, well aware of the situation and the worries at hand.

Especially with the upcoming plan.

Techno forgot about the plan. Forgot about the help that his younger brother was soon going to need as he and Tubbo came to face Dream in what was being referred to as ‘the final showdown.’ He has to be there to help take down Dream. He’s the best PVPer on the SMP, he knows that, everyone knows that. He’s the Blood God after all. He takes care of those he loves, would go to the ends of the earth to protect them, and Tommy needed protecting.

The choice for him was hard. Techno knew that while everyone was busy with Dream, he could do a more thorough search through everything to try and find you. But he also knew he needed to be there to protect his brother. His baby brother that was on his last cannon life that Techno knew Dream would do anything to take.

It tore him up inside ,which in turn caused him to tear things up. The house looked like a tornado went through it. Techno had been spiraling the night before the final battle. He was angry. Angry at you for not coming home or answering his messages, angry at himself for not being able to find you and make sure you were safe. Angry at not being able to protect you and take care of you. Angry that he let you go by yourself even though you very clearly wanted him to come with you. Angry that he can’t find you and that no one knew where you were. Angry that he had made a promise to his little brother and that he had to be at the final battle instead of out searching for you.

All of that anger built up inside of him and burst. The outcome was his knocking chests over, spilling their contents onto the ground. The paintings on the walls were slightly crooked and torn due to his rampage. The furniture was misplaced and books were strewn about the room.

Heavy breaths racked his chest as his ruby eyes scanned the destroyed rooms. A heavy weight sat in his heart and his stomach. Guilt quickly replaced the anger inside him as he collapsed to his knees. His hands reach out and connect with the ground in order to steady himself. His fingers clutch at a fabric spilled from one of the chests.

It’s your old cape. The one you wore before you stole his cape. It looked better on you anyway. Techno brings the cape up to him and nuzzles his face into the fabric, trying to find a slight bit of comfort in it. It still smells like you. Being tucked away for so long hadn’t let it lose the piece of you that usually clings to the fabrics you wear.

Your scent calmed him, only slightly though. He still felt guilty, but with this small piece of fabric, he could pretend you were here, tucked into him, safe.

It was cold.

Being underground, surrounded by obsidian, trapped in a hole by iron bars made things cold. You were exhausted. You weren’t sure how long you’d been there. Been in Dream’s collection room. Dream had explained it to you when you woke up. You were the most important thing to Techno, the only thing he was attached to.

You tried to call out for him. You first thought you were somewhere near the SMP, hoping either he would hear you or someone else would hear you and tell him… then Dream told you where you were. It didn’t stop you calling out for him though. You called for him until your throat was raw and sore. But even after, you were stubborn in your resolve. Telling Dream that he would never get away with this.

“That’s the thing my dear… I already have. No one has seen you since you left the village. No one knows what happened to you and no one knows where you are. You simply… have disappeared.”

His words hurt you. They worried you. He was right. He had kidnapped you while you were on your way back from the village. He had your communicator. You were gone. No one knew where you were. Did they even care you were gone? You tried to hold up your resolve, but Dream’s words hit your head hard, and he knew it. The blond simply smirked after watching you for a moment before walking away and leaving you to your spiraling thoughts.

You were exhausted. Your mind was tired, your emotions depleted, your body sore. Everything hurt. You missed Techno more than anything. Your heart ached more and more with each passing day. Did they even care or notice you were gone? Did Techno miss you too? Was he looking for you?

A voice broke you out of your thoughts. For a moment you thought it to be Dream, coming back to taunt you more… But it wasn’t. It was a familiar voice, one you hadn’t heard in a while. But you would be able to tell who that voice belonged to anywhere.

It was Tommy.

Why is Tommy here?

You manage to make it to your feet and stumble forward, catching yourself on the iron bars. You pressed your cheek against them and looked out as far as you could. You could make out three bodies there. Tommy, Dream… and… Tubbo. The third seemed to be Tubbo.

Why? Why were they here? What is going on?

The three then turned and began walking toward you. As they drew closer, you could hear Dream giving the boys the same spiel he had given you about the server’s attachments. The things people cared about more than anything.

“Tommy! Tubbo!” You couldn’t help but croak out, your hand reaching out of the cell.

“Y/N!” The boys both scream in unison, racing toward you. Tommy’s hand grabs yours and you almost cry at the warm contact. You’ve been in here for what felt like forever. You hadn’t had any friendly touch, let alone any warmth. It felt nice to be seen as a friend again and to see a friend.

Before any of you can say anything, Dream’s hands clamp on the shoulders of the two boys and rip them away from you. A dry sob escapes your throat at the loss of contact. “No touching.” Dream barks, forcing them back down the hall and away from you.

“Please,” you beg, wanting just a bit longer to be with them. But Dream ignores you and continues to walk away. Tommy and Tubbo try to fight, to turn around and come back to you, but they can’t. Dream’s grip is too tight and too strong.

You’re left all alone yet again. Small tears begin to stream down your cheeks as you back up again, your back hitting the wall, and sliding down to a sitting position. You can vaguely hear what’s going on in the other room, but not very well. Everything seems so far away. To get a glimpse of the outside world through another person only to have it ripped away from you just as you get a taste takes a toll on a person, especially one as exhausted as you.

You’re zoned out for the most part, just hoping Tommy and Tubbo would be okay. You’re suddenly brought back to reality though when a lot of footsteps and voices joined you in the underground. It was hard, but once again you manage to stand up and brace yourself against the iron bars. Pressing your cheek to the cool metal, you let out a gasp as you can see everyone. It’s everyone. Everyone in the SMP was there.

Your eyes scanned the crowd and caught on the familiar pink hair of your boyfriend. You could sob. If you weren’t so exhausted you would be already. He had come for you. He was there. Techno was there.

You couldn’t exactly tell what was going on, but you didn’t care. Your heart soared as mostly everyone turned around to face the collections hall and begin making their way down it.

Puffy led the pack and was the first to see you. A gasp ripped from her throat as her eyes met yours. Heads turn to look toward her and more gasps sounded in the room. “Y/N,” the Captain breathes out just above a whisper.

You’re about to respond when another voice interrupts you. “Y/N?” Techno shoves his way to the front, pushing people out of the way, not caring enough to ask them to move. He comes to a full stop in front of you and stares at you with wide eyes.

“Hi,” you croak out.

Techno takes a step back and you’re hurt. Why is he moving away from you? Does he not want you anymore? Why would he--

Your thoughts are cut off by the sound of iron breaking. Something that would typically take four or five swings, is broken in just one by your boyfriend Techno. The bars are gone. You’re free. Techno tosses the pickaxe back into his inventory and stalks forward. Before you can do or say anything, you’re being pressed into Techno’s chest.

The warmth from him immediately seeps into your skin and floods through your whole body. Techno always tends to run hot, being part piglin does that, but you’ve never been more thankful for it than right now. You nuzzle your face into his chest, wrapping your arms around him and hugging him tightly.

He holds you the same way. Techno is scared that if you were to pull away, you would disappear again. That he would be alone again. He doesn’t want to be without you. Techno presses you close to his chest, and presses his face into the top of your head. His lips give your head sweet kisses as he revels in the fact that you’re safe now. You’re safe with him.

You two are hugging like that for a while, but all too soon it’s time to go. You want to get home, change clothes, get something to eat, and fall asleep next to your lover. Techno lets go of the hug, but immediately grabs your hand and leads you out of the cell. He wraps his arm around you and pulls you tightly to his side. The two of you walk out into the main room together… Just in time to see Dream being led away by Sam.

Dream smirks at the sight of you. “You know… of all of the attachments I gathered, I’ve got to say, collecting them was my favorite. The others didn't know what was happening. Being inanimate or an animal… A pet. But they were your pet. They could talk. And oh boy did they talk.”

Techno’s jaw clenched as Dream spoke. He just wanted the green clad bastard to shut up and go to prison, but he just kept talking. “They called for you. Their screams echoed off of the obsidian, begging for you to come save them but you never showed… Do you want to know?”

Techno knew he shouldn’t get involved, shouldn’t respond and give him what he wanted, but he couldn’t help himself. “Know what?”

“Do you want to know exactly how long it took for them to stop calling for you? Do you want to know the exact moment they gave up ever seeing you again? Do you want to know the exact second they became mine to control instead of yours to love?”

Techno’s jaw clenched even harder. He saw red. Without realizing it, he left your side. His arm unwrapped from around you, causing you to protest and try to hold on to him, but he was too far gone. Techno marched forward, drew his fist back, and punched Dream square in the face. The smirk from Dream’s lips fell as Techno’s punches began rolling in faster and harder.

Techno was livid. Livid that Dream could even think that for a moment that he had any say over you and what you did. That you were anything other than the one he loves and the one that loves him. You were his. No one else’s. His.

Sam was the one to pull Techno off, but he fought it. Dream just lost two cannon lives, Techno wanted to take the third. Techno fought against Sam tooth and nail, trying desperately to continue. It’s not until he feels a gentle hand on his arm does he stop. The touch is familiar, one he’s been missing for weeks now.

It’s yours.

He stops fighting the creeper hybrid and turns to you. Your big, watery eyes meet his and he immediately feels all the anger leave his body. The voices that were screaming to kill a moment ago suddenly switch their tune, telling him to protect you, take care of you, wrap you in his arms and not let go until you got home.

That’s just what he does.

Without another word, Techno scoops you into his arms bridal style. He then walks to the portal and with a small nod to the rest of the group, disappears into the nether. You’re in his arms the entire journey through the nether and the nether portal near your guys’ shared home. The warmth of the hug paired with the warmth of Techno’s body fills your whole body and causes your toes to curl.

The tundra is freezing and immediately depletes a lot of the warmth you had just gained, but Techno is quick to wrap his cape around you and make haste to get you inside. The house is still a mess, you’re about to ask why when you catch sight of the paintings that were torn by his hand, and you immediately understand. So you choose to say nothing and just enjoy when Techno carries you into your room.

He sets you down and helps you change into clean and warm clothes before helping you crawl into bed. Techno wraps the two of you up in the blankets before pulling you close to him. Your head and hands rest on his chest while his arms wrap around you and rest on your back. Soft patterns are traced on your back, lulling you to sleep.

“I love you. I love you so much. You’re not going anywhere without me ever again.”

You know that that’s physically impossible and that there would be times he wouldn’t be able to go with you, but right now that didn’t matter. You nod against his chest. “I love you too. Please don’t leave me.”

“I won’t, my love. I’m right here.”

You let out a small sigh and sink into him even more at the comforting words. The past couple of weeks exhaustion wash over you and you fall asleep before you know it.

Techno stays awake for longer though. He stays awake and just watches you. His eyes study your face and his arms tighten around you. You’re here. You’re in his arms. You’re safe. He repeats that mantra to himself over and over again as he looks you over.

Finally he decides he’s too tired to stay awake, the past two weeks also having taken a huge toll on his mental and physical health. Techno’s arms wrap around you a bit tighter and hold you a bit closer. He presses a soft kiss to your forehead and then your head before settling in for the night. His eyes close and he takes a deep breath in through his nose, inhaling your scent which makes him relax even more.

“You’re safe. I’ve got you… You’re mine. I’ve got you.”

Ending sucked, but the idea was amazing so praise 🌻 because she deserves it. I hope that I did this justice! Thank you so much for letting me write it!!

[harveywritings92]

BNHA Vampire soulmate au: they feed off you for the first time.

They explain to you how blood tastes to them and enjoy a meal... 

Tw: Blood drinking, heavy petting

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Hawks: It's been a year you and Keigo seem to be together, you've been talking about moving in together anywho, You got a paper cut and Keigo who was crashing at your placed smelled it from your living room, he nearly gave you a heart attack when you turned around to see him standing behind you, his gold eyes had red tinge as he eyed your finger like a like man who hasn't eaten in a week. "Ey, there I thought you've already had enough to drink today?" you were referring to the black and red sports bottle he'd brought with him. "I did, It's just- You have no Idea how hard I've been holding back, your blood it does something to me..." Keigo husked eyes locked on the crimson nectar dripping down your hand he was salivating and swallowed hard. "My blood...does it smell good?" you asked timidly.

The blond snapped out of his trance. "Petal, you smell like ripe strawberries and chocolate to me..." Keigo has already told you how smoker's blood smells and taste to him, well you now you were curious about non-smokers, and asked if blood type also has an effect on the blood's flavor? the winged vamp was happy to answer! 

Smokers: Charcoal/moldy bread.

Drunks: depends on how drunk they are, it's somewhere between hard soda and hard wine or liquor.

Drug users: no idea, he says they smell like rotten eggs, and he's seen how loopy other vamps act after feeding on them and stays clear of them.

Sick/injured: He stays away from sick people but they smell like a cross between a hospital or a funeral home.

Virgins: sweet/tart like fruit-punch.

regular folks: like Sangria the fruitiness is still there but it's mixed with bitter wine . 

"Blood types don't really change up the flavors, but I've noticed type As have a spice to them, Bs start off sour, and type Os are pretty mellow." You hummed very intrigued at what you were hearing then, noticed Keigo was still eyeing your finger, like a starved animal, you looked down at the cut then back Keigo and noticed his wings were tense and he was clenching his jaw, after some thought you sighed you held your hand out to him. "Go head before your jaw breaks" His wings bristled. "I'm not some desperate leech y'know." he huffed you shrugged and went to went to put a band-aid on, but Keigo stopped you.

"Let's not be hasty here..."  He stammered out at you cocked a brow at him. "Yer really giving me mixed signals here." you huffed did he want your blood or not? " Um... Are you sure about this?" he said blush adoring his cheeks. "I'm just letting you suck my finger...Why are you acting like I just asked you to pop my cherry?" Keigo's face was as red as a cherry as you said this. "Because you essenually are..." He explained the big difference between mates and prey, on instinct he wouldn't give a crap about some rando he picked up off the street or whatever mystery pack the commission gives him, but you... 

You're his soulmate, his fated one... and right now your pretty much telling him to make you his! He's not gonna stop at your finger, once he's had a taste he's going for your neck! And once he bites you that's it, you have his mark forever, You paused absorbing what the blond male just told you...Well, he hardly leaves you alone already might as well go all in? "Do it." Hawks's eyes were red now. "Come" he hissed sitting across from you and gesturing to sit in his lap.

You complied and watched Keigo warily as he brought your finger to his mouth, immediately you felt a shock go through you the second Keigo's tongue started lapping at the cut, he moaned tasting your blood for the first time. He was right you tasted every bit as sweet as he thought you would...*more...more...* his monster groaned euphorically he felt the cut on your finger close from his saliva's healing properties.

Keigo's eyes drifted towards your neck, You gasp feeling his grip on your hand tighten before his free hand found it's way behind your head, you tensed seeing Keigo's fangs elongate but before he could pierce your neck he smelled your distress.

His rough hold on you suddenly slacked and his hands lowered to your hips his thumbs gently rubbed you sides as he left little kisses and nip along your jaw before you calmed down enough to trust Hawks wasn't gonna tear your throat out. "Just relax." he cooed kissing you neck a couple more times like a countdown. one...two... three! 

You tried not to scream as you felt his fangs pierce your neck, your fingers gripped his jacket as you felt yourself be drained... then like a switch had been slowly tuned the pain tuned into pleasure? moans started sneaking their out from your mouth which confused you, the blond vampire groaned in ecstasy at how rich your blood tasted with lust mixed in he buck his hips against you, after what seemed like hours Keigo's fangs finally retracted from your flesh and lap at the two holes he left on your neck, they sealed as you whimpered weakly Keigo just shushed and you. "It's alright kid, you did good" he cooed kissing your head as you started drifting out of consciousness.   

When you woke up your head was pounding like a bad hangover Keigo was cradling you in his lap looking relieved and sheepish, he explained he went a little overboard with his drinking and venom dosing and you got drunk on him and passed out! you must've looked panicked cos Keigo assured you were completely fine, the venom isn't lethal... (To you anyways, one of the benefits of being a vampire's soulmate.) Though you might be a bit feverish and cranky for the next couple days.  

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Dabi: You were on your period so yes Dabi's self restraint was breaking! you had no fucking idea what you blood was doing to him you smelled like a 5 star meal and all he could do was sit and drown in his own drool and watch you, like a hawk as you moaned and groaned about  cramps and ruining your pajama shorts when you woke up this morning! a low growl escaped the faux raven haired vamp when he saw you toss out a bag with said aforementioned shorts, it took every nerve in him not to run after the garbage truck like a starved dog! before something you said snapped him out of his trance. "hn...What ya say?" he looked at you drinking his third pack of cow's blood.

"I asked if my blood smells good and what does it taste like?"

"I wouldn't know haven't tasted yours yet..."

"Well, what about anyone else's?" 

"Why are you suddenly interested?"

You huffed "Sorry for wanting to know you..." and were about to tell him to forget it, when the the undead cremator spoke up. "Mocha mixed wit' something spicy like cinnamon or rum" he muttered not looking at you. Of course you cocked a brow now intrigued, now that that was out of the bag he might as well tell ya the rest. 

Smokers: burnt rubber/earwax (eh, everyone was a kid once, had to know what that gunky crap in your ear tasted like.)

Drunks: Depends on how much they've drank, it could between hard water to straight up red wine.

Drug users: the one time he fed on one he thought they were just a pothead, but in turned out they had ate a few shrooms which made them kinda taste like... orange juice and black liquorice?... Honestly he can't give a straight answer, as he was too busy trippin out on another plain of existence to remember.  

Sick/injured: doesn't feed off the sick, but they smell like a hospital or a morgue.

Virgins: like apples and honey

Regular folks: they taste like Apple cider. 

Animal blood: kinda tastes like artificial cherry cough syrup, and he hates it!

"Then why do you drink it?" you gulped seeing his cerulean eyes flash red for a brief second as he locked eyes with you. "Why?...*growl* your standing in front of me smelling like a walking buffet and you have to gall ask me why I drinking this crap?!" he snapped crushing the blood pack in his hand as you started backing away, you were nervous that only fueled Dabi's sadistic side you learned early that he enjoyed agitating you via flashing his fangs, popping behind you out of seemingly nowhere, and faking you out.

I.E. making it seem like he was gonna bite you then blow air in your ears before walking away laughing at your reaction, something about putting you on edge and having your adrenaline pumping through your veins adds more "spice" to your scent, it happens so often that Dabi started noticing arousal was mixing in with your fear, you bet your ass he started mocking you for getting off on him scaring you. 

Of course right now you weren't sure if he was seriously mad, or making fun of you again? He was not making fun of you again he was seriously pissed off, The nerve of you walking around asking him about useless crap, and offering him nothing in return! Dabi had you backed against a wall face buried in your shoulder you felt him sniffing you and flinched you felt him nipping along your neck, and like all the other times he's riled you he smelled that that little speck of arousal through the fear. 

He let out a low chuckle causing you to to become fed up, you though he was screwing with you again! "Goddamm-.hm!" You were cut off by sharp yelp as Dabi's fang suddenly pierced your neck! oh god it hurt! you whimpered tried shoving Dabi off! he groaned pushing your back against the wall, suddenly your body felt weird... you moaned it was hot and and everything felt sensitive...

You barely registered Dabi lifting your legs up you instinctively wrapped them around his hips, he let out a low purr and his demeanor became less angry and forceful, his shoulders relaxed as his hands gently rubbed your legs, after what seemed like hours Dabi finally pulled away from your neck lapping at the pin holes he left on, he checked on you only to find you passed out his eye had a rare tenderness to them as he eyed your flushed appearance. "Well aren't you high maintenance." he cooed his thumb caressing you chin before taking you to bed.   

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Bakugou: He didn't want say what you smelled like to him as it made him look soft, he finally cracks after more poking a prodding. "If I fucking do will you shut up and let me sleep?!" he hissed it was 8: 47 p.m. and he was tired which confused you, the sun was still out and you could hear kids playing in the streets outside. You heard a angry growl Katsuki's ears were pink. "S'mores...you smell like S'mores, happy?" he groaned when you started shaking him, no point in trying to sleep now that he's lit the fuse! He gave you the sum up of what blood tastes like to him.

Smokers: old news paper and figs.

Drug users: No clue stays clear of them, they smell like pickled eggs.

Drunks: Somewhere between hard water and flavored vodka.

Virgins: Why would you want to kno-... arhg! Coffee and vanilla!

Regular folks: Irish coffee and bitter mint.

Then you you started asking about blood types and what it was when he drank, Next thing you knew Katsuki let out this frustrated bellow! You yelped as he grabbed your wrists and pinned you under him. "You wanna know what it feels like?" you sheepishly mumbled a meek "yes" but the blonds red eyes narrowed. "Hah? say that again I couldn't hear ya?" he jeered trying to get you to use your voice, you repeated "Yes" again a bit more forceful as the ash blond unbuttoned the shirt he let you borrow exposing your neck to him. 

Katsuki frowned he could smell your reluctance, then grumbled in annoyance as he recalled Shitty-hair's advice ""Take it slow, be gentle..."" He took a deep breath and carefully buried his face in you neck, You flinched expecting him to clamp down, giving how much you annoyed him, but to your surprise; Katsuki instead opted to started leaving kisses along your jaw and collar bone.

You bit back a moan when he found you sweet spot and causing Katsuki to smirk if wasn't so hungry and tired right now, he might've taken this much farther, but the mouthwatering scent of your blood calling him was too much to pass up. "I'm gonna do it" he husked as you nodded and with that, Katsuki's fangs pierced your neck.

You gasped in pain felling them puncture your skin as Katsuki grasped your hand, the blond groaned in euphoria your blood tasted every bit as rich and sweet as he thought it would, he could smell your discomforted and on instinct inject a doses of his venom into your bloodstream in minutes your blood's flavor intensified with added lust, your tiny moans and whimpers were music to his hears, soon his instincts were warning him stop.

Katsuki's fangs retracted he lapped at the punctures he left on your neck, before pulling away to look at you and snorted you were a flushed out mess. "That sate your curiosity?" he huffed fixing your shirt you tried to say something but were too exhausted to say anything tangible, the ash blond chuckled and settled down next to you for the night.   

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[gotnofucks]

Lover’s Quarrel

Pairing: Steve x Reader

Summary: You have the powers to resurrect if you’ve been murdered, and a jealous Steve Rogers indulges heavily in your abilities. He would not let you steal his best friend, that was for sure. So what, if your rivalry regularly caused fire and harm to public property? You just couldn’t let the other win. 

Words: 4.3k

Warnings: Smut, enemies to lovers, violence, killings and murders (but reader cannot die, it’s weird. She has some sorta powers that help her revive when she’s been murdered), language, 18+ ONLY

A/N: Is this crack fic? Idk. Maybe?

The sixth time Steve killed you, you decided he needed to be dealt with in a similar way. It doesn’t matter that he cannot come back from the dead like you. He just needed to go. You were tired of him offing you every time he felt threatened by your existence. But this was the last straw. He had pushed you off the Quinjet while flying home from a mission and you’d fallen into the lake and drowned. You would NOT recommend dying that way.

Bucky had dragged out your dead body and watched over you as the blessing of the necromancer worked its magic over you and brought you back to the world of the living. The first words out of your mouth as you spewed out water were, “I am going to kill your best friend and you can’t be mad at me for that.”

Bucky, far too happy to have you back – poor guy still mourned every time you died – ignored your comment and pulled you into a hug. He’d never quiet gotten used to seeing you die. You patted his back, muttering a few there-there’s until he was calm enough to press quivering kisses on your head and temple.

“You need to stop dying.” He said into your hair, holding you close.

“I would not be dying if your best friend didn’t murder me every time! He is a menace, Buck!” You cried in exasperation. The said best friend was watching you from a few yards away, and he rolled his eyes as your words reached him. He scoffed loud enough for you to hear and you sharply turned your head to glare at him.

“You!” You shouted, quickly standing up and marching over to him. “You rascal!” And then you pried out your wet shoe from your feet and threw it at his stunned face. Unfortunately, it didn’t hit his face but smacked against his chest, leaving the wet print of your soles against his far too tight t-shirt. He gaped at you open mouthed before baring his teeth in warning.

“Oh god, every time you come alive again, you’re even more awful than before!” Steve shouted, and then just because he is fucking drama queen, he threw out his hands. You sneered before turning to look at Bucky meaningfully, the most obvious ‘see what a dick he is’ look on your face.

Bucky shuffled uneasily, caught between your quarrel once again. He came behind you and gave you his jacket to wear to shield you from the cold. And just like that, your anger melted a little. Somehow, with his steel blue eyes, Bucky Barnes could sooth every wound you’d ever had. Even those given to you by Steve Rogers.

“I am so sorry. I should have seen what he was about to do. I wouldn’t have ever let you fall had I known.” He apologized and you swore your heart physically quivered. You pulled Bucky into a hug, hiding your face in his chest, savoring his arms coming around you to hold you tighter. You could have stayed in his embrace forever, but it was an annoyed groan that ripped you both apart.

“Is there any way you can stay dead a little longer?” Steve asked, breaking your moment. “I mean, I’ve tired a bullet and knife and water and poison. What can I do that you’d be gone for just a little longer?”

He was worked up, a red flush creeping on his face and neck. Pacing, he was muttering, and you wondered for the millionth time how Bucky could be friends with him. He was just so extra! You wanted to tell him to shove a stick up his ass, along with the one already there when he turned swiftly like the wind and threw a dagger at you. A metal hand caught it before it could hit you and you were pulled into the warmth of Bucky’s body quickly.

“Steve! Cut it out.” Bucky yelled, glaring at Steve. “You will not kill her again. I don’t care if she can come back alive again. You won’t hurt her.”

With that, he dropped the dagger on the ground and walked away with you. Unable to resist, you looked over you shoulder and flipped Steve off. Fucker could kill you a hundred times and yet he would not be able to do anything. As far as you were concerned, Bucky was as much your best friend as his. And if Steve Rogers couldn’t control his jealousy without trying to behead you every time he felt you were stealing Bucky from him, you would just have to make his death look like an accident.

“I don’t think I need to tell you that you can’t kill him either?” Bucky said teasingly, his eyes soft and fond. “I need you both to survive.”

You groaned, bumping your shoulder in his and snuggling into him as a cold breeze hit your wet clothes. He could read you like an open book.

“You are no fun Barnes.”

There was rubble and fires and shrieks. Natasha was yelling in Russian as she ran about with a fire extinguisher and Clint crawled out of his vents to help Bruce out who was turning a dangerous shade of green. Tony was sitting in the ruins of his kitchen, his mouth half open as he spied on the ensuing battle in the middle of it.

Sam was using his shield to push Steve away who was shouting curses that had probably not been invented yet. Bucky was holding you back by your middle, yelling in your ear to calm the fuck down but all you could think of to do was smacking Steve’s face with that chair that was currently on fire. You suppose once everyone was calm, you’d feel guilty about your part in destroying the Avengers kitchen but right now that wasn’t important.

What was important was that Steve had tried to kill you. Again. He had actually thrown a fucking grenade at you. You barely had the time to kick it away where it exploded in the kitchen and then Steve was on you, calling you a bitch in all the 9 languages he knew.

“Calm the hell down, Steve!” Sam yelled, struggling to keep Steve at bay from you. You were glad to see that Steve’s nose was busted. That will teach the bastard to ‘look down his nose’ on you now.

“She pierced my ears! The fucking bitch pierced my goddamn ears!” Steve yelled. Even you had to admit, the golden hoops looked amazing dangling from his ears. Just perfect.

“You are lucky I didn’t stick a knitting needle in your eye Rogers!” You sassily replied, “The only reason you’re still in one piece is because I promised my best friend that I wouldn’t hurt you.”

The muscles in Steve’s arms tensed and Sam groaned, barely keeping his own footing. A dark shadow seemed to have crawled over Steve’s face, turning the blues of his eyes an angry shade and had you been a weaker person, you would have trembled. This was the face of someone who had stood against armies alone and came out victorious. But for all you cared, he could kiss your ass.

“He is MY best friend. Mine. Not yours, not anyone else’s. Bucky Barnes is mine and I will kill you a thousand times until it sinks in your thick skull!” Steve growled. You scowled, a scathy remark bubbling on the tip of your tongue when you suddenly stopped. Why say when you can show? So, looking Steve directly in the eyes, you went limp in Bucky’s arms, turned around and cupped his face. And then you kissed his cheek.

Steve let out a strangled cry behind you, but you focused on Bucky who was blinking in disbelief at your audacity. And so, just for the heck of it, you kissed his other cheek. And then his forehead.

“Bucky Barnes, you are my best friend and always will be!” You said, hugging the life out of him. You heard Steve break away from Sam, heard Bucky yell out a curse and holding you protectively as his jealous pal came rushing to claim him. And all through that and the chaos that ensued later, you just smiled broadly.

Tony was giving a lecture, and he sucked. He gesticulated too much for your liking, and you really didn’t like how he kept emphasizing things by looking pointedly at you. It wasn’t even that much of a big deal, and even if it was, it was not your fault. Like every other time, the only person who could be held responsible was the blond super soldier sitting beside you, wearing the same shade of annoyance on his face as yours.

“I repeat” said Tony, his hair askew, “we do not use Friday to settle idiotic, absolutely ridiculous personal vendettas!”

“You have Friday tell you how pretty you look every day!” You countered and Tony slammed his hand on the table.

“Because I am!” He huffed. “You, on the other hand, stopped a mission in the middle to ask Friday who had a higher score! I mean, what the actual fuck? And what score?”

Steve had the decency to look at least a little sheepish. You however didn’t put up with any of that nonsense. It was his idea anyway, and you wouldn’t take the fall for him. Not when Tony looked murderous like this.

“Rogers bet me he’d take down more enemies than me. We only asked Friday to keep a count. I had literally nothing to do with it.”

Tony turned the ire of his glare at Steve who was too busy giving you a dirty look. He was just pissed you won, and that Bucky had spent the entire ride back tending to your wounds rather than Steve’s. It wasn’t your fault his jealous ass always threw a fit whenever he saw you and Bucky together.

“You said the team could use Friday as we saw fit.” Steve said, though he did look a little guilty. It wasn’t like him to lose command and control. Even when he’d been Captain America, he had never let anything rattle him. Not until you had come prancing in his life and stealing his best friend.

“I said the team could use Friday, not stop everything in the middle of a high risk mission to see who has a bigger dick.” Tony said, and then he just collapsed in his chair. Poor guy had been working too hard to carry the team forward, and in that moment, even you felt guilty. Your rivalry with Steve shouldn’t have to affect everyone else, not when they had been so welcoming and loving to you ever since you joined.

You walked over to Tony and dropped a kiss on his head, caressing his hair. “I am sorry Tones. You won’t have more trouble from me.”

Tony looked at you as if seeing an angel. He looked at you as if you were the solution to all his troubles. Despite every furniture of his you’d broken and set fire to, he was so grateful to have one sane voice between them. Cupping your hands, he looked imploringly at you and asked, “Really? You’re gonna stop fighting with Steve?”

At that, you solemnly nodded and patted his hand gently. Poor him and the poor team going through hell because you and Steve couldn’t settle your differences. It was obvious what had to be done.

“Of course I will” You said magnanimously, because of course you were the better of the two. “Steve just needs to find another best friend and there won’t be any reason to fight anymore.”

If any of them had been drinking water, they would have spit it out. Since they didn’t, they just kind of choked on their saliva and sputtered at you in absolute disbelief. Tony actually looked betrayed and Steve seemed to have licked a lemon, if the look on his face was anything to go by.

“She” He said, voice thick with contempt, “needs to go away. We can launch her in outer space or somewhere from where she can never return. You know why? Because Bucky is my best friend. Since we were yay high!” And he raised his arms a foot off the ground to show just how high.

And just like that, the moment was gone. Rogers opened his mouth and any goodwill you had had went poof. So, you did the only reasonable thing any sane person would do right now and that was to flip him off and call him a pig. You knew he was inching to strangle you; you could see his fingers twitch. A part of you was anticipating it, for Bucky would never forgive him for killing you again. Just as he would have lunged at you, push Tony out of the way and did you away for good, Bucky burst into the room with the expression of a cantankerous 100 year old grandpa who had had enough with the world.

“For fucks sake! Just shut up you both!” He yelled and paced the room. His eyes were bloodshot and hair disheveled, a clear sign that your rivalry was taking a heavy toll on him. Steve opened his mouth to say something when Bucky raised a finger to shush him. “No no no! You listen to me you oblivious, utter moronic fucklets!”

Your mouth dropped open. Bucky never cursed at you. He had never called you a fucklet before.

“You two need to stop. You hear me? You need to STOP!” He raked a hand through his hair before kicking the ground in frustration. “I can’t eat. I can’t sleep! I can’t fucking breathe without you both arguing over who is a better friend to me. So, here’s an idea. Instead of fucking me over in the middle of your sexual tension, why don’t you find a room and fuck each other? Because I tell you now, I cannot fucking take it!”

Silence sat pregnant in the room. You blinked at Bucky. Steve blinked at Bucky. Tony blinked at Bucky. And Bucky didn’t blink at all.

“That – uh – what?” You said, eloquent as ever. “That is so stupid.” And you laughed awkwardly.

Steve glanced at you and then stammered, “What? That – I haven’t – that has nothing to do with it. She and I – what?”

You both found each other’s eye, quickly looked away and just became silent. The tension in the air was suffocating you, and a terrible heat was settling in your stomach. Without another word, you walked out of the room, muttering about how ridiculous the whole idea was. The three men watched your exit, and a moment later, Steve left too, still very much in disbelief.

Tony and Bucky sighed, sitting across from each other and just taking in the fact that the elephant in the room had finally been address. A moment later, Tony began drumming on the desk, looking up at the ceiling.

“I couldn’t have put it any better myself.”

You felt antsy, as if staying one more moment in your room would drive you mad. You kept jerking your legs and arms, a weird restlessness in every action of yours. What the hell was Bucky saying? The sheer nerve to imply that you…you and Steve had some sort of feelings for each other. You hadn’t heard that kinda crap since you nursed your nephew who’d had diarrhea.

The only reason you and Steve fought was because you wanted Bucky. He was supposed to be your best friend, and clearly it was his inability to decide who he preferred more that had led you here. And to pretend, on top of that, that it was you who was at fault was just ridiculous. As if you’d touch Steve Rogers with a ten foot pole.

But…would you? You suppose he couldn’t be that bad to touch. He did have gorgeous eyes that got all dark and dilated when he fought with you. And his breath hitched when you got him mad and he bit his lip to stop from cursing you and he flushed a very becoming shade of red that started from his cheeks and disappeared down the neckline on his tight shirts that –

Holy fuck!

The realization rocked your world. What the hell? When you thought about it again, it seemed as if you’d just described Steve being aroused. Did you really fight him and got him mad to stimulate yourself? Oh god. Bucky was right. You wanted to fuck Steve.

This wouldn’t do. This wouldn’t do at all. You quickly changed into your work out gear and rushed to the gym, intent on sweating out whatever feelings you might have for Steve. After all, nothing says fuck you like imagining someone’s face on a punching bag and just going to town on it. Thankfully, when you arrived the gym was empty.

You’d been working on your stretches for only a few minutes when your worst nightmare entered the gym. He probably had the same idea as you and froze the moment your eyes met. His blue eyes narrowed at you and you stood up straight. You hated Bucky for putting the thought in your head. Now all you could think of was tackling Steve to the ground and fucking him senseless. You still wanted to beat him, but in a very different way.

As Steve entered, his eyes fixed to your form, you decided it was time to leave. After that fiasco in front of Tony, you didn’t think yourself capable of talking to Steve. Staying alone with him was something you didn’t trust yourself with. So you picked up your bag and started for the door when his voice stopped you.

“Running away? Am I to believe that there is something that finally scares you?”

Anger, red hot anger simmered under your veins when you turned to face him again. He had a mocking smirk on his face that made you grit your teeth. His eyes, dark and challenging beckoned you to him, but they didn’t hold resentment there either. Something between you had changed today. The very air around you was different, thick with tension and apprehension that had your nerves tingling.

“Scared?” You scoffed, dropping your bag on the matted floor and walking until you stood right before him. He towered over you in height, but he’d never been able to actually look down at you. “Me, scared of you? You wish Rogers.”

One corner of his lips lifted up, and he put his hands on you. One hand hooked around your waist and pulled you closer, the other trailing a finger down the side of your face to your neck, following the path down your arm until his fingers intertwined with yours.

“Oh, I so do wish” He whispered and his lips met yours. You rose up on your toes, mashing your body against his and mapping the planes of his body with your palms. The smell of his sweat and soap surrounded you, your arms coming to hold him around the shoulders as he hitched you up so you could wrap your legs around him.

Like everything in your relationship, the kiss was explosive. You didn’t melt against each other like people do in books; you collided like two warring armies intent on conquering the other. You collided like night and day, basking your surroundings in the dawn and dusk of your lust. Steve took your bottom lip between his teeth and bit down, smiling as you shamelessly moaned.

“What do you say?” He asked, pushing you against the wall, his hardness digging between the heated center of your legs.

You pulled him closer, letting your lips trail over his jaw and neck before you branded him with a quick bite. “You’ve always been so aggressive Steve, let’s see you let loose some other way. I sure do hope you fuck better than you fight though, or I’ll just be disappointed.”

Steve growled, kissing you again as he ground his cock against you, trapping you between the wall and his hard body that prevented any escape. Your hands slipped under his t-shirt, meeting the firm muscles on his abdomen that rippled under you. He pulled back just enough to allow you to remove your clothes, his own being flung sideways without any care.

Even before, you’d never thought of Steve as anything but beautiful, but now, seeing him in all his glory, you could only look him up and down in appreciation. He was trembling slightly, as if holding himself back with effort, his eyes not leaving you for a second. You both looked at each other, naked and unashamed before frantically coming together. His hands were everywhere, squeezing your ass and thighs as his lips pulled at your breast.

Your fingers rolled his nipples softly until he moaned, and then you pinched them. He jerked under your touch, kicking the back of your knees so you collapsed down, and he covered your body with his. Anger, arousal, lust and longing, all emotions built together in a storm of incoherent desire that had you both rolling over each other, fighting for dominance and power. Steve pinned you down with effort, holding your wrists in one hand over your head as he gave a smug smile to you.

“Will you finally surrender today?” He asked, positioning his cock at your entrance that was drenched. You would have loved to taste him, to have him taste you, but as of now, all you wanted was for him to slide inside you. You hungered for him, burnt for his touch. For years you’d been left wanting, and now with the prize so near, you weren’t about to wait any longer.

“The only surrender today will be yours.” You whispered sweetly before slamming your head against his. Steve jerked hard in surprise, allowing you the opportunity to free your hands and roll over him. You sat on his pelvis proudly, his throbbing member right underneath you and as he blinked at you, stunned, you rose up over his tip and slowly sunk down.

Steve groaned as your wet channel fell like velvet heat along his shaft. You had never been so full before. He stretched your limits, as he had always done, and you decided you very much preferred rendering him speechless like this under you than your usual punches and throws. His hands dug into your waist, helping you bounce on his cock and you threw your head back at the feeling.

It was a beautiful ache, one that took your breath away. As you rolled your hips and clenched down there, Steve’s voice rose in appreciation and you grinned. You finally had the golden boy at your mercy. You fucked him, changing your pace to punish him, never letting him up. For every time he killed you, you bit on his lips and neck, marking him. It was punishment and cherishing, a culmination of feelings you didn’t understand.

“Touch me.” You brokenly said, and his fingers found your nub. The slapping of skin, the sounds of debauchery and the smell of sin filled the air. You leaned over him to meet his lips, the heat in your gut bubbling until you snapped and came atop him, falling blissfully. It was one moment of weakness and the world titled, Steve having finally pushing you on your back.

“You’ve always been strong, because I’d hate to break you when the fun has only just begun.” He said and thrust into you hard and fast. He was an animal in heat, a man possessed, and you didn’t mind one bit. You met his every thrust with a raise of your hips, you clawed at his back until he bled, your lips tasting of the salt of sweat and tears and desire. He brought you impossibly closer, looking right into your eyes as he took you.

For the life of you, you couldn’t look away. You couldn’t get enough of his grunts and moans, of the breathy whispers of your name that slipped between curses, of the way his lashes would flutter over the dark blues that kept your eyes captive. He had you completely in that moment, mind and body; and for some reason, his gaze felt infinitely more intimate than his cock that was currently spearing you open. You keened in pleasure, whimpering as he touched your overly sensitive clit and had you coming again.

A minute later, he twitched inside you, his warmth flooding your core and you sighed. You laid entangled and sweaty, both of you spent and tired and yet completely overtaken by the urge to be closer still. To think this is what you’d both missed for all these years.

“So, what do you say, still feeling aggressive?” Steve asked and you looked at him with a grin that you couldn’t have suppressed had you wanted to. Oh yes, some battles were never meant to end, but they sure could be altered to meet new demands.

“With you? Always.” You replied, kissing him deep until he couldn’t think of anything but you. “Just remember one thing.”

“Oh yeah, what?”

“I am still a better best friend to Bucky. I did fuck you to keep him happy after all.”

Steve frowned darkly and before you could blink, he was over you, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“I think this time I’d fuck some manners into you.”

“I think this time you should actually put your back into it. I did all the work before.” You taunted and he dived at you.

Meanwhile, in Tony Stark’s office

“Friday, what’s the score?” He asked smugly, offering Bucky the packet of blueberries. Bucky was sitting with his feet on the desk, a small smile on his face.

“I am afraid I am not at a liberty to say Boss.” Friday replied. If the AI could blush, she would.

“Seems like they are at an impasse.” Tony suggested, and Bucky shrugged, licking his lips.

“Well, some things never change.”