#implied unhealthy coping mechanisms

[forestshadow-wolf]

Cw: implied homophobia, drinking and smoking as coping mechanisms, angst

Part 1 || Part 2

Soap was always so put together. Ghost always admired that, just a bit.

Which is why is was so shocking to see soap drunk off his ass, alone in the rec room, in the small hours of the night.

Ok, saying he was drunk off his ass was an overstatement, but he was clearly a bit further than buzzed. Didn't even acknowledge ghost when he walked, just continued idly running his finger around the rim of his glass, staring sightlessly into the amber liquid. Where he even got the bottle of scotch was a question ghost didn't bother to think on.

Ghost took it upon himself to situate himself next to soap, pressing his thigh into the scot's.

"How much have you had, Johnny?" He asked softly, something colored his voice that he didn't wish to look deeper into — that's why they worked. Soap toed the line between too much, and ghost let him, laughing it off when it circled too close, and soap always followed.

"Enough. I should pack it up." Soap said equally soft, solem, but he made no move to do so, simply continuing to cradle the glass between his hands. — so that's it, huh. That's how he stays so composed. He's self-aware. Maybe too much for his own good.

Soap pulled the cup up to his lips to take a sip of the warm liquid. Ghost's hands gently guided the glass out of his hands before it reached its destination. Soap let it happen. He still hadn't even glanced at ghost, and he was being unusually quiet. Ghost didn't like it.

They sat in silence for a moment.

Or ghost thought they did. Then a moment later he hears the flick of a lighter, and he turns his head to see soap lighting up a cigarette. Simon frowns behind his mask. Soap takes a delicate pull off the cigarette, and lets the smoke steam out of his mouth slowly. Still, it's like he's looking anywhere but ghost. It's like he's looking through ghost. Ghost sighs — he doesn't like this johnny. — his fingers automatically itch for a cigarette of his own, his body so used to sharing one with the man beside him. He doesn't. There's no real need for one at the moment, just a desire to share something.

"Tell me?" Ghost offers. It's gruff, and hardly sounds like a question at all, but an offer all the same.

Soap doesn't answer. He's eerily quiet. The only sound is their breathing, and the occasional pull of the one lone cigarette.

It's quiet for a long time. Ghost doesn't force anything, just sits with him. Then–

"My da's dyin'." It's small, quiet, as if saying it too loud will shatter whatever's in the air between them. "I should take some leave, be there... but... I won't." The cigarette's almost burned down to the but now. He takes one last drag off it, then snubs it out.

Simon stays quiet, letting johnny think, it's not his place to speak. It's not what Johnny needs right now.

"He'd be furious, I think. He'd tell me to go to hell, maybe in a few more words." Johnny chuckled darkly. "Mum will be devastated if I don't go. And my sisters will never forgive me if I'm not there — mum will though, she's too kind — but... I can't go." He said wistfully, the words come out slow — it's probably the alcohol — he spoke like he didn't know how to stop the words from coming out, and wasn't sure if he even wanted to stop them.

"Why not?" Simon prompted gently, he could almost see the words burning a hole in Johnny's throat.

"We can forget about this come morning, act like this never happened." Soap answered instead, like the words were stuck, but still seared with a need to come out. Or maybe it was the alcohol making him hare-brained

"Johnny..." It was soft, too soft. Soap laid his head on his arms and began tracing formless shaped on the table with his finger.

"... haven't seen him in over a decade, and he was so... angry then. He caught me an- an a boy..." the words seemed to get caught in his throat. "Barely even let me pack my bags before shipping me off. He was so nice before... before he knew. He was so amazing. I always thought I'd be like him when I grew up." Johnny's eyes were wet now, instead of the eerie dryness from before, but that's all it was, no tears. "I should see him one more time for that at least... but I won't. I-..."

"Johnny." Ghost felt like he was intruding, he was seeing something he wasn't meant to see. But johnny plowed on.

"I-... but I don't think I can- that- that I'll-... I don't know h-how I'll survive if- if he tells me to- to go to hell or- or t-to get dead again. I can't- I can't do it again." Johnny's voice shook as he spoke, and the words seemed to trip and stumble uneloquently from his lips.

He seemed to burn out after that, and it was so quiet, like they'd gotten sucked into space. Or maybe it was just simon who was in space, and Johnny was cast adrift in the ocean. He didn't know.

"Lets get you to bed, Johnny." The words were gentle, pillowed in all the corners. Johnny let himself be guided easily, searching for any kind of life raft.

[nickythehickey]

un-mask

(read on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54520237)

CW: Implied/referenced sh, brief descriptions of physical pain, identity issues, metaphors about/allusions to autistic masking

For what it may have been worth, Atlas hated his mask. He supposed he could see why someone might initially be impressed with it– at first glance, it appeared to be made of a brilliant bright porcelain, held on his head with black satin ribbons that buckled together in the back and adorned with a carefully painted face. Whoever made it must’ve spent a long, long time on it. But there were flaws; the “porcelain” was actually a thin, scratchy plastic, with rough edges that sanded away at his skin whenever he wore it. The painted red lips were starting to chip away, and no matter how often he tried to fill the cracks he just couldn't get it back to looking new. The coverings over the eye holes were nearly impossible to see through. Even though it looked like him, it also undeniably didn’t– it looked like someone else’s idea of what a perfect “him” would look like. No matter what he did, he couldn’t ignore how terrible the mask really was. Wearing it made him miserable, but apparently, he was the only one who saw it for what it was. He never understood why everyone else thought it was so beautiful. Why they seemingly couldn’t stand him without it. Why it was the only way people would stay.

It really did seem like the cycle never ended. It was always the same. He’d meet someone, they’d become friends, he’d feel close enough with them to take off the mask. They’d realize they didn’t actually like him. They’d leave.

Enough. He’d had enough. This time was one time too many. If a mask was what everyone wanted, then a mask they’d get. As a matter of fact, they’d never get anything else again.

Atlas sat on his bed, door locked, the only light a soft navy glow through his window. In his lap: the mask, its cheap white plastic and bright red mouth openly mocking him. In his hand: a hot glue gun. Why hot glue? It was the best adhesive he could think of at the time. Or maybe he wanted what he was doing to hurt. He didn’t know.

He tied his hair back, plugged the glue gun into the lamp on his nightstand, and waited… far too long for it to heat up. Occasionally, he’d pump the trigger a few times to test if it was usable yet. Damn his impatience– you’d think the extra time would make him rethink what he was doing, but instead it simply made him more frustrated, more upset, more set in his decision. He did tend to be rash and stubborn when emotional… and he had the nerve to be annoyed by Juno’s impulsiveness. Figures.

For the love of Harmonia, he needed to get this done. Was it…? He checked the gun again, and sure enough, the clear glue started to ooze from the tip. Took long enough.

He made a ring of glue around the edge of the mask. No going back now. He filled in some of the extra surface area over the anchor points- nose, forehead, chin... it needed to be as secure as he could possibly make it. He made sure to use just about the whole stick of glue, filling in more and more until the melted plastic stopped flowing from the tip of the gun.

Setting the gun down, he took a deep breath, and a final moment to internally yell at himself to just do it already. He tensed nearly every muscle in his body and firmly pressed the mask to his face.

It burned. It burned immediately, and it burned bad. It may not have been the worst pain he'd felt, but it was enough to make his eyes water. Time almost seemed to slow as his grip tightened, the glue seeping into the hairs along his chin and spreading across his skin, taking the heat with it. He ignored it. He just kept holding the plastic to his face.

He hated this. He hated the mask. He hated needing it. He hated Juno and Simon for not needing masks of their own. He hated himself for being so pathetic that he had no choice but to hide behind a facade. He hated the world for not wanting him without it.

He was ripped from his thoughts by the sting of sunlight in his eyes. Damn. It was morning already. He'd been up all night again. When did that happen?

Oh well. He might as well start trying to figure out how to eat with a hard plastic sheet covering his mouth. He tied the ribbon behind his head; it no longer served a purpose, but he supposed it looked neater that way. He had no idea what time it was, but hopefully, it was just the right time for him to do so alone.

— —

Of course, it wasn't the right time. Of course, it was just early enough for Juno to still be awake from the night before and just late enough for Simon to have woken up for the day. Of course, BOTH of his other thirds had to be in the kitchen at the same time. Of course, they weren’t even distracted by an argument. Just his luck.

When they greeted him, he said nothing. Talking with the mask was always difficult, even before he accidentally glued his jaw shut. He’d handle that problem later. Probably.

Naturally, Simon was the first to notice everything. “You know you don't have to wear that thing around us, right? We do like you without it.”

Even if it didn't matter now, he still wished he could believe them.

[panthera-tigris-venenata]

For the prompts:

Frollo's house burned down in the middle of the night. Frollo may or may not have been inside. The only one who knows everything that happened that night is Claudine, and she isn't talking.

Yeah, this one is not pretty. Claudine is not having a good time. Like, at all.

It will be good for her in the long run though.

Frollo‘s is burning – again. The flames high, and no one bats an eye. And if there is screaming, well, who cares? The old man had it coming, hadn’t he, and his daughter was seen running through the Isle towards the port.

Thus, no one really cares.

The chapel burns, and so does the home next to it, and still, no one talks. No one brags about killing the judge and self-proclaimed priest, and Claudine won’t say a word, will she?

No, she won’t, save for prayers and curses alike, and something that might or might not have been an exorcism.

Too bad she isn’t the only one who speaks latin here. (All three Hook siblings. Evie. Marya Rasputin, in her broken version.)

Exorcism is fairly easy to recognise, though, after all these years of living in the general vicinity of Claudine’s father, and even if it wasn’t, well.

Claudine was indeed running towards the port, only to halt in one of the dark back alleys of the dock. In the dim light of the dawn, she pressed herself against the wall and into a corner, her palm gripped tightly around the blade of her dagger.

The blood slowly dripped down – drip, drip, drip. Claudine tried to think of the pain in her hand, and she failed.

Thus, with bloodied hand, she reached up and arranged her hairs back into their place: she lost her weil somewhere, didn’t she? 

Who cares? Who would blame her?

And like that, bloody and with free hair, she pulls back her shoulder blades and forces her hands to stop trembling, no, stop, now is not the time, is it ever–– she walks through the port towards Gaston’s cabin and prays that Gil is there for once and she will not be forced to visit the false goddess’ ship.

For once, maybe for the first time Claudine can even remember, her prayer is answered. (Or is it? Wouldn’t it be better for everyone if she just- didn’t come? She doesn’t need help. She doesn’t deserve help, she––– she should have stayed in the fire.)

Regardless, unaware of her damning thoughts, Gil looks out of his window when she throws a pebble at it, and then jumps immediately out.

„Claudine,“ he lands in front of her and takes her trembling hands to his, takes away the dagger that she is still holding at the right wrong end, „––––, what happened? Are you okay?“

Claudine wanted to nod and say „yes, I am, why would I not be, the God looks over me,“ like always, but instead, tears flowed from her eyes and sobs spilled from her lips.

Traitors.

She chokes on the sounds and presses her lips together, bloodless.

„––––, might I hug you?“ he asks and she leans away from the contact. She shouldn’t be touched.

„Are you injured?“ he asks, still holding her hand gently – she could tug away any moment, run away, why doesn’t she?

„Let me take you to the infirmary,“ he says, urging her to go along, and she doesn’t run away still.

She just lets the second mate of Lost Revenge escort her through the port, and only as they can see the ships, she remembers: „Not Revenge, Gil, not Revenge–“

She doesn’t think she can deal with Uma and Harry now, and whatever cult they have going on.

Gil doesn’t argue with her, only asks: „Hope, then?“ and starts walking again when she nods.

Scattered hope is better. No godlings and heretics. Probably. Possibly. 

Only Marya, the half-demon. Claudine hears her praying sometimes, but her prayers are wrong, and her father says said that were Rasputins not dark witches and creatures of pagan hell, there might have been still hope for them, somewhere.

Claudine doesn’t have slightest idea what he means meant by that.

Claudine starts reciting her own prayer under her breath.

Soon enough, they’re by Scattered Hope, and Gil asks for permission to board. The permission is granted, accompanied by several curses. Claudine barely registers them.

She is at the infirmary now, and Gil is with her, still holding her hand. Marya is there too.

„Send her away, Gil,“ Claudine begs in French, sure that Marya won’t understand, „Please, send the demon away. I don’t want to be damned.“ 

She almost chokes at her words again, but Gil sends confused Marya again, and asks Murphy to get Bonny from Revenge, it’s urgent, pretty please.

„I’m not injured,“ Claudine tells him, but he doesn’t listen, calling for Bonny anyway.

Before the door closes, she sees Marya, upset about being thrown out of her own infirmary, hugging Sammy Smee, and Harriet Hook, impatient as always, pacing the deck.

„I’m not injured,“ she repeats again, nothing happened to me, she wants to say, but doesn’t. That would be lying, wouldn’t it?

„Oh, ––––,“ Gil only says, and asks her if he might hug her again. This time, she doesn’t say no.

She’s tired. Oh God, she is so tired.

Bonny comes and talks at her and Gil tells her what to do too, their voices blending into one. Yes, she can move her fingers. Yes, she can follow Bonny’s finger with her eyes when she moves it. No, the world doesn‘t swim too much, not even when she stands up.

Eventually, Bonny clears her and leaves for the Revenge again.

„I told you I was not injured,“ she tells Gil again.

„You didn’t tell me what happened, though.“

Instead of an answer, she bites her tongue and presses her lips close and shakes her head.

Gil doesn’t make her talk.

The peace doesn’t last long: Harriet Hook barges into the room, heavy footsteps and cloak flaring like a pool of blood behind her, and Claudine sits up, back straight and eyes like steel. She is biting at her cheeks still.

Harriet sends Gil away with but a glare and the doors shut and they are alone, and Harriet knows, Harriet knows, HARRIET KNOWS–

„You did it, Claudine,“ she says.

Claudine bites her cheek harder. She doesn’t want to talk and she isn’t sure this is real, anyway.

„Your father’s chappel is burning, has been for quite some time, and no one has seen him since yesterday,“ Harriet continues mercilessly, „Your father’s chapel is burning and no one says a word about it. No one brags. Calista Jane would have bragged, as would Harry. There would be the flag of Lost Revenge instead of the cross. Ivy de Vil wouldn’t have left the walls standing, and Mal and Maleficent, oh, they fey would have shown off his burned body in the marketplace.“

Silence.

Silence and Claudine’s heartbeat, her blood rushing through her veins. She wishes Gil came back and threw Harriet away; she wished she stayed in the flames, too.

„You did it, Claudine,“ the pirate Captain’s voice is too soft and her words sound like a congratulation, „You did it. You killed your father.“

Claudine looks at her hands, now cleaned of blood and soot by Gil and Bonny, and her fingers twitch for the relief of the blade.

There is no blade near, though, so instead she says it, carefully tasting the heavy words in her mouth.

„I did it. I killed my father.“

Few heartbeats of silence.

Claudine can feel Harriet’s cold eyes on her.

„Will you judge me? Will you tell?“

She can practically see the answers running through her mind, each more cruel and cutting and true than the last, but what actually leaves Harriet’s lips?

A small smile and „no, I won’t,“ and Claudine is grateful for that.

[awhitehead17]

Just for once, please let me forget

Dick & Jason, Dick & Wally, Angst, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Drunk Dick, Emotional Hurt/Comfort.

Summary: There's one inevitable day every year that Dick dreads. This day being the death anniversary of his parents. Even now, after so many years have passed by, he still doesn't know how to deal with his emotions and this year he slips up, turning to unhealthy coping mechanisms to help him get through the day.

A/N: This story is for my 'Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms' square on my Bad Things Happen Bingo card.

Also on AO3

Enjoy! :D

The day he dreads every year has inevitably come around once again. No matter how much he wishes to, it isn’t a day he could ever forget.

Despite all the years that have now been by, waking up on this day isn’t any easier than it had been the first time. He still gets hit with overwhelming emotion, tears that instantly well up in his eyes and threaten to fall, his chest tightens as it’s hard to breathe as he remembers what happened.

Today is the anniversary of his parents deaths.

Today is the day that so many years ago completely changed his life. What happened ripped everything he knew and cherished away from him in a violent and brutal manner. A young child left orphaned without a chance to say good bye. The last thing he remembers is the fear and the screams of his parents as they fell to their deaths, it was an ‘accident’ that was anything but.

Clenching his teeth Dick tries to shake those thoughts from his mind. They’re the same ones he has every year when he wakes up on the morning of this particular date. He’s currently in bed, in the bedroom of one of his safehouses in Gotham City, a current placement while he covers for Bruce and other family members who are on a mission elsewhere. Thankfully he’s alone so no one can see how much he’s falling apart right now.

After waking up he stays in bed for some time, not having the energy to get up or any reason to get motivated. He wallows in misery for the rest of the morning until he becomes to restless to stay in bed. Once up he now feels the pent up energy in full force and tries to decide what to do with himself. Unfortunately his mind won’t shut off, his brain replaying traumatizing scenes over and over again, and Dick knew he needed to do something that would switch his mind off from the horrid thoughts.

Eventually making a decision Dick heads out with the intention of going to the manor, hopefully there he can find someone loitering around that he can bother.

When he arrives he's surprised to only find Jason at the manor. Damian must be with Jon or Colin somewhere, Tim is probably with the Titans or with Benard (are those two dating?), Cass is on a mission with Babs, he has no idea about Duke or Steph, Alfred isn’t around either so he’s most likely out doing errands or spending some quality time alone since Bruce isn’t around for him to babysit.

Jason is in the cave tinkering with a variety of gadgets and equipment. Without giving any warning Dick storms up to the workbench, slams his hands down and pins Jason with a look. “Spar with me.”

To his credit Jason doesn’t startle at his sudden appearance but he does freeze and gives Dick a long stare.

It’s only now he’s in front of the younger man that Dick knows what he’s really after. He wants to be distracted, both in mind and body, he needs something else to help him forget the emotional pain he’s currently experiencing. He can change the pain from emotional to physical… at least with physical pain he knows how to deal with it. He knows how to treat his body after a good workout which leaves him physically exhausted, bruised and sore. Jason packs a good punch and doesn't hold back during sparring, he’s the perfect person for this situation.

The younger man continues to stare and not say anything in response. It takes all of Dick’s restraint to not lash out at him from impatience. Moments tick by and just as Dick thinks he’s about to snap Jason places the tool he’s holding down and stands up, his gaze never leaving Dick.

“Alright. Give me fifteen to change and warm up.”

Dick bites his tongue to stop himself from demanding they just get on with it. He’s here to hurt himself, not to hurt Jason. No one else needs to be hurt because of him.

Twenty minutes they’re on the training mats facing one another with their fists raised and stood in defensive stances.

It’s not enough.

As they trade punches and kicks Dick still struggles to switch his mind off. No matter what he’s still reminded of that day so many years ago. He needs that pain to be numbed, he needs to not remember…

Dick lets Jason get several hits in; he lets the younger man tackle him to the ground, lets him put him into a choke hold and doesn't tap out, he lets Jason wind him from a kick he could have easily blocked. All these things has Dick’s body burning from use and pain but it still isn’t enough. Maybe he should have suggested they use weapons too instead of just hand to hand.

After a couple hours of this, on and off sessions in that time, Jason calls it quits with a dark scowl on his face.

“Enough. What the fuck is wrong with you?” He demands from his side of the mat.

 Dick clenches he teeth and acts clueless. “What do you mean? Why do you want to stop? Is someone getting tired…”

“Don’t give me that bullshit,” Jason swears, “you aren’t even fighting back. You’re letting me strike you and pin you down when you could easily overpower me. You’re not trying.”  

Dick scowls. Of course Jason is right but Dick isn’t going to admit that. “Maybe I’m just having an off day.”

“You don’t have off days. What’s going on?”

If Dick hadn’t been plagued with raging emotions he would’ve picked up on Jason’s concerned tone, nonetheless it sails right over his head and he goes on the defensive side.

“Of course I fucking do. Everyone does. Just ‘cus you paint me as some ‘golden boy’ doesn't actually mean I am one. So fuck you Jason, I just thought we could have a good friendly spar but apparently not.”

Without saying anything more Dick turns and leaves the training area, leaving behind a baffled and gaping Jason.

Sparing with Jason hasn’t done anything to help with his situation, it’s only achieved a small, aching burn throughout his body. He’s going to need to do something else to get through the rest of the day, he doesn't want to remember, he needs the pain to be numbed but the question is how does he achieve that now? Sparring didn’t work so what other options does he have left?

====

Dick is drunk. Absolutely hammered out of his mind. One moment he had been driving away from the manor after a frustrating sparring session with Jason and then in the next he’s in a hidden bar within the city downing shots like it’s going out of fashion.

Dick doesn’t know what drove him to seek out a bar, alcohol more specifically, but for the first time that day his mind is clear of thoughts and he’s at peace. He’s finally achieved what he's been after all day.

Suddenly there’s another glass filled with strong smelling amber liquid being placed in front of him. Dick blinks but by the time he looks up the barman has already moved onto another customer. Huh. He can’t remember ordering another drink however not protesting at the sight of it he picks up the glass, that’s after nearly knocking it over because he misjudged the distance, and raises it to his lips. Just as it’s about to reach his mouth a hand appears out of nowhere and covers the top of the glass making Dick unable to drink any of its contents. Dick frowns and before he could do anything about it the same hand removes the glass from his hand and places it away from him.

Feeling annoyed he's been denied the pleasant burn of alcohol Dick turns to his unknown companion. He has to pause a second later though because the movement causes the room to spin and it takes a moment for Dick to get his senses together. Eventually he sees the person who dared to disturb him.

It’s Jason. Dick’s mood sours at the sight of the younger man. He hadn’t wanted to be around Dick earlier and now he’s brothering him here. What the fuck does he want?

“I think that's enough drinking for one night.” Jason says evenly, it makes Dick glare at him. Who does he think he is by telling Dick what he can and can’t do…

“The fact that you’re speaking your thoughts out loud tells me enough Dick. I have no idea how much you have drunk but you’re done.” The younger man pauses, giving the elder a once over with a concerned gaze. “What is going on with you? First the sparring and now the excessive drinking. This isn’t you Dick.”

Dick bristles at the comments. He doesn't have to explain himself. “How’d you find me?” He asks instead. Jason’s come along and ruined his peaceful drinking.

Jason says something but it’s lost to Dick as suddenly two Jason’s appear before him, he blinks several times wondering when Jason got a twin until they merge together and Dick is staring at the one and only Jason Todd once again.

“Jesus christ you’re in a state. C’mon, we’re getting out of here.”

Dick loses track of time once again because all of a sudden he finds himself being manhandled out of the bar and into an alleyway outside the building. Dick makes an aggravated sound, which sounds more like a whine, and tries to shove Jason off of him.

“Piss off…”

Jason’s hold on him is strong and with Dick’s feeble attempts to get rid of him he isn’t going anywhere.

“Why do you care?” Dick abruptly shouts. “You didn’t earlier! What do you want?”

The younger man stops and turns to face Dick with an unreadable expression on his face. “I do care Dick, I always have done even if I’m not the best at showing it. Right now we’re not having this conversation until you’re sober, rested, and in a better frame of mind because there is something serious going on with you. You never act like this.”

Dick groans at his words. “Well perhaps you don’t really know me!”

Jason narrows his eyes at Dick with suspicion. “Whatever feelings you are trying to bury, getting black out drunk isn’t going to help.”

“It helps for a while,” Dick points out before continuing on, “what do you suggest I do then? Go around killing criminals and shoving their heads into a duffle bag? ‘Cause that sounds much better doesn’t it.”

It goes dead silent between them. Dick blinks waiting for Jason’s response as Jason simply stares back at him in clear shock. Several beats go by before either man speaks up again.

Jason grits his teeth and clenches his fists. “That was uncalled for and I have no response to that. But-”

Whatever else Jason was going to say it’s lost to Dick because out of nowhere his stomach lurches and he bends over to throw up all over the floor, the excessive amount of alcohol he drank earlier making a reappearance.

When he gets a moment to breathe he slumps down to the floor, his legs no longer having the strength to keep him upright, and he leans back against the wall next to his disgusting smelling vomit.

After that the tears start and Dick just feels like shit. He doesn't know why he’s now crying, it’s probably to do with how his emotions are currently all over the place. His head hurts. His stomach hurts. There’s a disgusting feeling in his mouth.

He doesn't know how much time passes once he’s on the floor. Everything blends together and Dick wishes he would simply pass out or something, he just wants the day to finally end, for this pain to finally stop.

A gentle voice and a soft hand touching his cheek breaks Dick out of the spell he had fallen into. He startles at the touch and has to breathe deeply so he doesn’t throw up again.

“Easy Dick it’s just me. I’m here buddy. God what’s going on pal, what have you done to yourself?”

Knowing the voice but not yet registering who it is Dick pulls a face, he blinks and looks up and is surprised to find his best friend crouching beside him. His unruly ginger hair standing out against the dark of the night, his freckled face frowning in concern.

“Wally?”

“You with me bud?”

Reaching out to touch him, Wally sees the movement and gently grasps Dick’s hand with his own.

“Why are you here?” Then out the blue Dick remembers something and guilt instantly builds up inside him. “Shouldn’t you be out with Linda? Why are you here?”

Wally cups his face and squeezes his hand, pinning Dick with a determined look. “I’m right where I need to be. My best friend is struggling and I’m here for him.”

“How…” Dick doesn't finish the question as Wally shakes his head.

“It doesn’t matter. Now c’mon lets get you home and into bed. We can talk about it tomorrow.”

Unlike with Jason, this time Dick goes willingly and easily. Wally hauls him up to his feet and makes sure to steady him once up right, throwing an arm around his waist and placing Dick’s arm over his shoulders.

As they start making their way out of the alley Wally speaks lowly to him. “I know what today is bud, I know why you've done what you have to cope with it. I’m not saying it’s okay, Jason’s told me what occurred, but I’m saying I understand. We’ll talk more about it tomorrow but you should have known you could have called me. I know Bruce isn’t around as he usually is on this date, I’m sorry you felt like you had to deal with this alone.”

There’s no judgment in his voice and his words make Dick tear up. Unable to control himself the tears start streaming down his face and a choked sob breaks out of his throat. “I’m sorry… I don’t… I just couldn’t – I’m sorry.”

Wally lets him cry out his emotions, not that Dick could do anything else but, and together they make the slow walk back to Dick’s safehouse together.

His head is pounding and even in his drunken state he knows he’s going to wake up the next morning rough, and it won’t be just from a hangover but also from the onslaught of emotions he’s experiences that day.

In only a way a best friend can, Wally helps to distract Dick from his thoughts and when they eventually make it to his safehouse he helps him get ready for bed. Their years of friendship means this kind of situation is no longer embarrassing but instead is comfortable, they’ve seen each other in all kinds of states at this point, this nothing to them (although the context behind the situation is a cause for concern).

Thankfully once Dick is settled in bed he’s out like a light and Wally stays behind making sure he’s okay and safe even long after he’s fallen asleep. The speedster makes a plan for the following morning to broach the sensitive topic of what made Dick go into a self-destructive mode for the day and how they can deal with it afterwards. It’ll be a long conversation but by now they’ve had many of them, Wally will be the support Dick clearly needs and hopefully a day like that day won’t happen again in the future.

[gritsandbrits]

Like imagine being an allegory for unhealthy coping mechanisms and how society rewards people for adhering to toxic ideals without question, only for some dummy to call you a sociopath.

[thatfailedpokemontrainer]

toxic — does your muse have any unhealthy coping mechanisms? what are they? do they know that they’re unhealthy or not?

rage — what’s one thing that makes your muse inconsolably angry?

First one - uhm. I've struggled- and I still struggle with much worse than what I do rn which is just - sleeping. Can't be unhappy 'f 'm not awake. 'ts not the best, but ts not the worst, and it works.

Second one - Uhm. I don't like it when people won't listen to me or consider my point of veiw it makes me wanna tear my hair out

[icarus-laughed-while-he-fell]

Anyone else set a date as a goal for survival? Like, rn, mines April first cause majority of my peoples birthdays are in March, and I just wanna make it through that. Once I hit April first, I would reach that goal.

This could be for multiple of reason: possible nuclear war, su*cide, climate war as I like to call it, or health reason(all of them rn for me). I just make these dates in my head to force myself to move on day by day. It's not healthy by any means, but I feel much better when I make these dates. More secure in my standing. I've been doing this since 2020 unconsciously. It first started out like "if I wake up tomorrow I'm ok... " then it just got longer and longer. I've got bad anxiety, if you can't tell. Slowly I realized what I was doing.

I'll think about it every few days when dread fills me. It makes some of the dread go away. Helps me ground myself. Once I hit the end of the year I'm filled with immense dread and relief. Immense dread cause another year close to impending doom, immense relief cause it's another year of survival

Anyone else?

[stahp-right-there-peasant]

MePad: Sir, you’re ignoring all of your problems.

MePhone4: I know.

MePad: Sir, you do realize that’s a very unhealthy coping mechanism?

MePhone4: I’m ignoring that fact as well.

[thesoulesscollection]

Feel Better? (Thsc Fic)

I've always wanted to write a one-shot about my Oc, Honey, that I'm a little proud of, so here it is, I hope. 

Additional Tw/Tags: Implied/Referenced Drug Use/Addictions, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Depression, Bad Choices, Manipulation, Toxic Character, & Unhealthy Relationships

This one-shot I feel takes place around my Hc when Terrence was a right hand/elite member **

Just so you know if it isn't obvious, Honey isn't a good person whatsoever with no redeemable qualities. Also, I did want to try to explore the dynamic she has with others, Ie. Terrence Suave. 

Smoking this crap is going to kill you, Terry. 

With a strangled inhale, his nose wrinkled, taking in the fumes, Terrence felt like shit in the beginning, eyes burning, and throat tensing up. The pain, although a short one is excruciating, is far too excessive, hitting him like a freight train. Despite its intended purpose to help him relax, he could never quite get used to it, at least not completely without expressing the gross need to keel over at a moment's notice. The lazily self made smoke is snuffed out in an ant pile beside him. A hagged cough leaves him hunched in a fetal position, such an ugly pathetic mess who could never keep it together.

From the outside looking in, anyone who can be bothered to glance at his direction, Terrence understood he's a useless piece of shit. What they saw is a misfortunate to the clan, a dead weight trailing behind, no matter what there is no one that can see the good in him. True to the world, he isn't faring well, appearance wise, seen as an ugly disgrace, his old gray suit is wrinkled, torn, stained, and heavily coated in musty cobwebs. Worse, whenever he takes note in a mirror, he's gaunt, no meat or muscle on his withered bones. His unshaven face is sunken in, choppy black hair left askew, his eyes wide are unable to stop chasing the smallest movements. 

"Terry, my dear friend, you look positively wretched. Would you like to take another hit? From something other than this awful mockery of a cigarette you got your hands on?" A sickeningly sweet voice pulls him from his troublesome thoughts, "And gosh. If I only knew you were going to spiral this bad, I would've brought heavier stuff then this" 

Sickened that there's more potent stuff out then what he's taking currently, cigarettes simply laced with mild relaxers, Terrence reflects grimly, unwillingly being reminded of his bad choices, "N-No. I… I should be fine… Thanks though... Damn. Yet I still feel like shit" 

"Sure you do. You know you wouldn't have to feel this way if you agreed to test out my new product. It shouldn't be too strong as it should be enough to help you feel better" 

Then light pink shoes came into his line of clouded vision, then as it cleared, Terrence lazily noticed the woman's outfit. A pastel, knee length dress, joined by a long slit up to each hip revealing her slender, tanned thighs. Above noticing the design on her chest, was a full heart shaped cut, which he'll admit in great shame to staring at it for a split second too long. In a panicked haste to avoid further embarrassment he diverted his attention to her sharp angular face, full in makeup somehow she makes it look so natural. Her strawberry blonde hair is a swirly updo, where a few loose curls perfectly frames her face, and her intense amber eyes stare at him, slowly inspecting as if he were an ant. 

In between her slender fingers, index and middle held a long, stick thin cigarette that was yet to be lit. 

"… I just don't think it's a good idea…" 

She bent over, hands laid flat on her knees so she could be eye level where he sat on the dirt ground. "Do you not trust me?" 

"... I do…" Terrence crumpled. "... Honey… I'm in pain. Mentally, I'm not there. All the stuff I'm using isn't working anymore" 

"You shouldn't be worried, dear. I wouldn't hurt you on purpose, would I? For this, you don't need to smoke it yourself, so you can equally get as high from the second hand stuff alone" 

Tilting his head, curiously he watches the woman take a lighter from a hidden spot on her person, and lit the cigarette. Unlike what he initially expected, pink smoke fills the area, unnaturally thick like it's holding a weight. Furthermore, she isn't affected in the least, instead, whether he is reading the signals correctly here, she's actually enjoying the sensation. She then inches closer, filling her mouth, cheeks rounded until it can no longer be held within upon her exhaling through her cupid lips. In his shock she unleashed the smoke towards him, he experienced what he never felt before. 

Again his sight falters until refocusing with a pleasantly comfortable sight. The hues were a little off, primarily pink color, takes hold. Both mind and body took a backseat to the new appeal ravishing his painstaken self, while he slumped against the wall. No more did he feel the tension dragging him to the deepest pits of hell. So amidst the colorful smoke clouds dancing ahead in many shapes there's little hearts freely floating around. 

"Do you feel better?" She asks, standing aside, getting a lopsided grin in return by Terrence, "Nice. That's good. I was kinda worried it wouldn't" 

"Y-you said this is new, right?" 

"It is. It's a new hobby I took up. I come from a long standing family motto: we're meant to deliver the sweetest services to help the least fortunate"  

Stuck in a blissful trance, a sweet escape from a cruel reality, Terrence, unworthy, is forever thankful for her gracious deeds. 

"You needed this. Terry, you deserved this" 

[forestshadow-wolf]

Part 1 || Part 2

Cw: (slight) drinkin/ smoking/avoidance as coping mechanisms, slight angst

it was odd to see soap walking to the table 30 minutes before breakfast ended.

usually he was first in-first out, his 'hawk perfectly gelled to stay right where he put it. not today.

not today when soap slumped down in his seat, almost too late to grab up a tray of cold eggs and sausage. not today when soap's hair flopped into a dishevled strip of hair on the top of his head, and it looked like he wanted to throw up the moment the tiniest morsel of food touched his tongue.

Almost everyone had already fucked off to start on their daily obligations by now. Ghost should have been gone by now as well, but he'd gotten worried when soap hadn't shown up. Breakfast was the most important meal of the day, to quote a certain scot.

To be fair Ghost couldn't say he'd be in the best of spirits if he drank half the night away with a bottle of scotch that he smuggled onto base. And he didn't even know what to think about why he'd felt the need to.

Soap wouldn't even look up at him, even when he nudged his foot with the toe of his boot. Ghost couldn't tell whether it was the hangover, or if he was embarrassed about the night before, or from the news that lead him to drinking last night. He barely even poked at his food, didn't touch his full cup of rapidly cooling coffee, either.

"Sergent."

All he got in return was a disgruntled sound, and a vauge wince from the man. He stabbed a piece of egg and pushed it into the corner of his tray.

"Soap"

Soap huffed an almost pained breath.

"What?" He rasped.

Ghost held the silence, letting it speak for itself. Soap huffed another irritated breath.

"I don't want ta talk about it."

Ghost frowned. "Johnny."

"Fine! what?! what do you want me to say, Ghost?" Soap, snapped at him with a wince. that surprised Ghost, he doesn't think he's ever had soap snap at him like that in all the years he's known him. "I said we can forget last night never happened, why can't you just accept that?"

"you remember that?" it was honestly impressive, drinking most of a bottle of scotch alone and still remembering the night? that's not something Ghost can do.

"'course I remember." he grumbled bitterly, "and I said to forget it."

"right, because that's so healthy, is it?" ghost rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, and you're the epitome of health." Soap snapped harshly.

Ghost chose to let that be the end of it. For now. Soap was in a shit mood, and he was more than likely hungover, and it sounded like he was having some issues.

The remaining time of breakfast rolled past quickly, and it was like a switch had flipped, how fast Soap became that image of perfection. next thing Ghost knew, the scot was striding away to take care of morning recruits.

he didn't see soap for the rest of the day. or that evening. in fact, he really only saw soap again when he was heading out for a late night smoke while he was taking a break from his giant load of paperwork. he was sitting on the ground outside, leaning against the wall next to the door.

"I'm not gonna have to drag you back to your bed again, am I?" he said, rolling up his mask, and sticking a cigarette between his lips.

"nah. not this this time." Soap, huffed a humorless laugh, taking a sip of amber liquid. but there was no bottle in sight, that was a good sign. but he did have a lit cigarette of his own between his fingers.

"you know, you really shouldn't smoke."

that elicited a scoff from the man beside him.

"it's bad for your lungs."

that made a deep chuckle escape the man, and Simon had to tamp down the shiver that went down his spine. they lapsed into silence lone enough for them to both finish their lights.

"you really should talk about it, you know. doesn't have to be with me, but..." he lit up another cigarette, offering the pack to Johnny as well.

"I'm fine." he said, the words short and clipped, as he took his own cigarette.

"you just seemed really torn up about it, that's all." he said.

Johnny let out a long breath of smoke, "It's all just... fucked." he sighed. "And I don't know what to do."

Simon stays quiet, letting Johnny think through his words.

"I want to go see him before he... ya'know, I think I have to, really. I don't know- it's just... I don't know." his words seemed to die on him, and Simon watched him lose steam.

"Last time you saw him, wasn't on the best terms." he finished for him.

"yeah." he whispered, polishing off the last of his drink and setting the glass to the side.

"I think you should go. if that's anything to you." Simon offered, blowing out a puff of smoke.

Johnny was quiet for a moment, "I know. I just... I'm scared, truthfully." he said quietly. "what if it goes wrong, and he doesn't want to see me, or- or he tells me he still hates me, and that it should be me that's dying and not him." he looked down at his hands.

"what if he doesn't though? what if he tells you he loves you. that he made a mistake. what if you get closure?"

"isn't that worse, though? to finally be accepted by him, only to lose him again?"

Simon shrugged, "you tell me."

they were quiet for a long time then, letting soap think about it. "what if I don't want to go alone?"

"all you gotta do is ask." he said, snubbing out his cigarette butt and walking back inside, he still had paperwork to finish.

[flowersarefreetherapy]

Hold On: Come Back

CW: DUBCON, dissociation, unhealthy relationship dynamics (borderline abusive, but that isn't the intent), dubious understanding of consent, referenced past noncon, working through serious issues in all the wrong ways

The AC unit rattles in the corner. They lay on the bed, sheets twisted around them, hair wet with sweat and water plastered to their scalps. Daniel traces a lazy pattern across Star’s stomach, leaning over occasionally to kiss his temple. 

“Alright,” Star breathes. He reaches over and grabs Daniel’s free hand. “Let, let’s, let’s go.”

“When?”

“T-tomorrow?”

“Of course,” Daniel whispers. He rolls over, caging Star in with his limbs. “And we’ll go together.”

Star smiles lazily up at him, hands sliding down his stomach. Promises they can’t make hover in the air between them. Damn, if Daniel doesn’t love him beyond words. He presses a kiss to Star’s jawline, then another to his neck. At the fluttering groan he gives, Daniel smiles into another kiss. 

He wants to bite down hard on Star’s pulse. He wants his bonded to grab his hair and force him to his knees. He wants Star to make demands of him, to order him around and force him to obey. He wants to bleed. Atonement for the blood he spilled coming at his bonded’s hand.  

“Daniel?”

“Yes, love.”

Star’s nails rake down his back. Daniel’s head digs into his bonded’s collarbone, a groan slipping free. Teeth close gently around his ear, tongue licking against the skin. 

“You know what, what to do,” Star breathes. 

A shudder goes down Daniel’s spine. He opens his mouth to speak, but Star presses his hands firmly to his lips and shakes his head. There is a new hardness in his eyes; a deep smoldering anger Daniel knows he should address, but the heat throbbing low in his stomach is too much for coherent thought. 

“Star, what do you-”

“On your back.”

The hair on the back of his neck raises. Daniel nods, rolling onto his back. It’s odd, seeing his bonded from this angle. The handlers never allowed them to do this, though when they weren’t looking it was a different story. 

His mind drifts back to the first time. When he was tired and Star offered and how wonderful it had been on the receiving end. Not only that, but the words Star had whispered still haunt his best dreams. The way he gripped Daniel’s hair, bit his neck hard enough to bleed, left marks across his skin that took weeks to heal. And he wants the same now. 

“Pay attention.”

Daniel gasps as Star smacks his cheek. It’s the second time Star has hit him and he likes it far more than he should. They’re free, they can do whatever they want now. After all, their loyalty is to each other. 

He doesn’t think you’re loyal. 

“I love you, Star,” Daniel breathes, leaning up into a kiss. There is too much anger between them. “I love you.”

“You, you killed.”

“For you.” Daniel tenses as Star’s fingers knot in his hair, jerking his head back and baring his throat. “I freed us.”

“Into what, what, what kind of new l-life? You don’t have, have–there’s no plan.” 

“I’ve already told you, I’m making one.”

Star’s breath is hot against his neck. Daniel reaches for his bonded, only to have his hands pinned above his head. The memories are too much and his breath hitches, but Star doesn’t notice, teeth grazing just below his jaw. 

“Stop th-thinking,” Star demands. 

“I’m–oh–not.” Daniel squirms as Star’s free hand slides down his chest, resting flat against his hips. He wants to move. He’s too scared to. 

Star hums, taking his skin in his teeth. With a sharp gasp, Daniel arches his back as his skin is marked in all the best ways. The pain nearly distracts him from Star’s hand slipping between his legs. He makes some kind of undignified whimper, spreading his legs. 

“Good b-boy,” Star chuckles. “Now you’re, you’re listening, aren’t y-you?”

“Star,” Daniel moans. “I’ve already explained myself.”

“Not w-well enough. I, I, I want a bet-better explanation. I want, want you to scream on-one.”

Oh damn. Oh damn, damn, damn. Daniel’s brain stops. All he manages is a nod before Star shoves into him. No prep, no warning, and he cries out before he can stop himself. Star’s fingers dig into his wrists as he shifts.

“Close, but, but not wh-what, what I want.”

“Star!”

“No.”

He starts a vicious rhythm that Daniel can barely keep up with. It hurts, but in a good way. He has to fight to keep up and it’s a surprise to him. Normally he’s slowing himself down for Star. 

If I knew about this earlier . . . 

“You better h-have, have a plan, a plan,” Star hisses in his ear. His voice catches and Daniel wants to apologize. Again. But he’s done that more than enough now. He’ll just have to understand and move on with him. 

“Or you’ll do what?” Daniel gasps out. In response, Star grips his hip tighter, holding him still as he mercilessly picks up the pace. “Star–Star, please!”

His bonded won’t look at him. Daniel forces away memories of all the past times they were forced into this, ashamed and afraid to look at each other, their pleasure nothing but entertainment. It’s still the same, in some ways. Is this what it's supposed to be like? All confusion and pain and both of them with good intentions but the wrong execution time and time again? 

Star’s thrusts hit the perfect place and Daniel arches. The heat in his body swells, reaching its breaking point. He wants to scream, but Star’s lips seal away the sound. Again and again and Daniel’s hands clench into fists. Screams die away in his throat. Tears burn his eyes with the need for release, but every time he gets close, Star slows down. 

Please stop teasing! Please, I want this to be good. I want us to love each other!

Is this pleasure a weapon? Daniel tips his head back, allows Star full access to his body. Whatever he wants, whatever he’ll do, Daniel doesn’t care. He hates himself for it, but he feels his mind drifting away, back to the safe places he keeps for the moments of pain and hurt and the handlers and master who once ruled his nightmares. 

He barely registers as he tips over the edge, a sob finally slipping free. Star follows moments after, gasping as he rests his head on Daniel’s shoulder. They are sticky and sweaty. Daniel feels little of it, as if he is simply watching instead of participating. He swallows. Is it his own sweat and blood he tastes? Does he even know the taste anymore? What is taste?

“I, I, I’ll follow you,” Star whispers. He wraps his arms around Daniel, pressing a kiss to his cheek. 

Follow what? I had something. I promised him something. What did I–a plan. I have to have a plan. 

Daniel nods. It’s the most he can manage. What is wrong with him? He usually loves this. Loves when Star tops, loves when his bonded is rough, loves the bliss and the aftercare and everything about it. Why is it so wrong this time?

Maybe it’s the timing. They need rest, they need safety. That’s all. It’s the timing. 

There’s nothing wrong. This is fine. 

This is how it’s supposed to be. 

Nothing is wrong. 

Tagging: @darkthingshappen @blood-is-compulsory @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump (let me know if you want to be added/removed!)

[runeians]

"You look awful." {Ranboo to C!Tommy}

“YOU REALLY KNOW HOW TO KICK A MAN WHEN HE’S DOWN,” is muttered in that direction, but Tommy is too busy extracting the last potion from the brewing stand to pay his friend’s words or presence much attention. The bottle is warm, a comforting weight in his hands; he cradles it absently as he nudges past the other, setting the bottles down inside a grainy old chest.

Yeah, Ranboo’s got a point: his eyes are dull, red-rimmed with a lack of sleep, and he can’t remember the last time he actually left his little hobbit hole. But he’s safe, in here, and he’s happy lost in memories and bad coping mechanisms: almost feels like Pogtopia again. The thought brings a wry smile to his face, and then finally, finally, he processes the other person in the room with him. “Oh, hey. Hey! Did you want something, or… Cause I’m a bit busy, mate.”

[vendettamuses]

For Piper!

// A bit of angsty introspection into Piper‘s internal struggles with herself. Mind the tags on this one, it gets a bit dark.

// Piper’s self-medicated for anxiety and depression. Because getting shipments of her meds is so on-again off-again on Rook (and in general bc she doesn’t have a proper Rx for them), Piper tries to space out the doses as much as possible and split pills where she can in order to make them last longer. But that often means she ends up under-dosing and the medications end up not being effective at stabilizing her mood.

// This leads to her having periods where her mood fluctuates. She goes from manically happy, to crying from sudden onset sadness, to lashing out at minor things, to losing her sense of direction, attention, and memory span for periods at a time. Mostly, her mood just dips though. Whenever she hits a low point she typically stays locked up in her little corner of the compound. She shuts all the blinds and just lays in bed in the dark for days at a time, too tired and too sad to eat or move or really do much but let the weight of the world crush her. That’s not always possible due to Hoyt riding her ass for not working, so she’s gotten in the bad habit where if she knows it’s going to be a bad time, she goes off to this one particular stretch of beach where there’s a little cliff with a cave overlooking the ocean and she just sits there. And she will stay there for hours or days at a time, sitting on the edge of the cliff watching the sea and sleeping in a tiny burrow she’s dug out into the cave for herself.

// This concerning form of escapism comes mostly from the fact that Piper never developed healthy coping mechanisms for how to deal with overwhelming emotions. Her whole life she’s had to repress everything she’s ever felt in order to help others- specifically her family. Taking on the responsibility of them all from a young age means that her sense of self-worry has been reduced to simply how she can serve others. She doesn’t know how to take care of herself or acknowledge her own feelings and needs, bc in her mind, doing so takes away from valuable emotional and physical availability that others might need more.

// In short, she works herself until she burns out because that’s all she’s ever known, then shuts down as a result and isolates herself because she doesn’t want to burden others by taking up emotional or physical resources that others might need more than her- and because that would cause a crisis for her internally established role as “the provider.”

[comment-exchange]

248. Another Shot (Maybe It'll Work This Time) (Teen Wolf)

Title: Another Shot (Maybe It'll Work This Time) Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16115795 Platform: AO3 Creator: clotpolesonly Work Type: fanfiction Fandom: Teen Wolf Rating: Mature Pairing: Braeden/Laura Hale Word count: 2.4k Warnings: Unhealthy coping mechanisms, Drinking, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, sex as self-harm Number of comments: 5 Completion Status: Complete Short summary/description:

The stranger in question just raised an eyebrow at her. “I’m Braeden,” she said. “Just by the way. Nice to meet you.”

Laura didn’t appreciate the implied rebuke. She wasn’t at a hole-in-the-wall bar in a futile effort to get drunk enough to forget her brother’s self-destructive spiral because she wanted to practice good manners.

[runelocked]

❝ What day is it? ❞

FOR A LONG MOMENT IN THE AFTON HOUSEHOLD, THE SILENCE SPEAKS FOR ITSELF. And then sound rushes back all too abruptly: the tick-tick-tick of the grandfather clock, the tapping of an overgrown tree branch against an upstairs window, the noiseless simmering anger from William, sitting motionless at the breakfast table. There is an empty place where Michael’s mother might have once sat, and another for his brother. Empty like there’s a chance they’ll return: as if!

…To William’s right hand side, there should have been Elizabeth. Only sheets of doodles — ranging from her family to a certain pretty new animatronic — remain, along with William’s silence. What does the day matter? He wants to shout at his eldest (and now only) surviving child; barely catches himself, one hand moving woodenly to grip at the table as if physically holding himself back. What kind of question is that? Don’t you know what I have done? What I could do (want to do) to you if you bother me more?

“My Elizabeth is gone.” Is all he says flatly. Tuned wrong, an out of key piano. Gets to his feet abruptly, is too caught in his own mind to see anything amiss about Michael, be it physical or emotional. After all, assuming his son has travelled backwards in time — it would be absurd, wouldn’t it? “I need your help in the Funtime auditorium tonight. You’ll come with me.” There’s no won’t you? attached to the end: William has not asked his son a question in a very long time. Demands are his poison; even if his voice is wrong and wrung out and wired dangerous, it never lacks that clipped authority. “Get changed. And,” he adds, very sharp, “don’t ask stupid questions.”

[flokali]

♢ I love you, I own you | Tartaglia

warnings: yandere, dub-con, penetration, coming inside, unprotected, undertones of misogyny, toxic parents, manipulation and gaslighting, obsessive, paranoid, and possessive behavior, toxic mindset, coerced submission, getting walked into, bribing, murder, torture, self-doubt and insecurities (mc), arranged marriage, implied financial insecurity, implied virginity (mc & childe), spoilers for tartaglia’s story/lore, unhealthy coping mechanisms, unreliable narration (at times). ask to tag.

pairing: afab! fem! reader (bottom) x childe (top)

word count: 13.3k

a/n: ahhh; hopefully this is good >_< i love him so much… after almost a year, ‘tis done ^_^

part two: here

— 18+

Childe is horrified and incredibly angered, if not down right homicidal, when he finds out your parents planned to have you engaged to a no-name Fatui henchman, it’s only a further blow to his already weakened heart when the news don’t come from you nor your family but from the loud mouths of your “soon to be fiancé” and his goons. His blue eyes widen and he feels himself grow lightheaded, his stomach feels like it’s turning itself inside out and, oh Celestia, he thinks he’s going to puke.

While perhaps not the most befitting behavior for a Harbinger, Ajax couldn’t help but eavesdrop when he had first heard the mention of your name and while he’s extremely glad he did, - he’s silently thanking the Tsaritsa for telling him now so he could do something - he almost wishes he didn’t as he’s now forced to go back to his office and wordlessly deal with the intrusive thoughts racing through his head.

All he can think about are the countless pinky promises you’d both made to each other during your childhood, the coos of both of your parents when they had first heard him declare his love for you, the feeling of your hands against his when you kissed his cheek goodbye before the fateful day he stumbled down the abyss, the way you and only you were the sole thing keeping him together during his time there, the way you sobbed in relief when he first approached you after emerging victorious from hell itself; did those moments mean nothing? Had only he been impacted by them? Had you forgotten his love for you - your love for him?

No, he thought as he marched to his desk, there’s no way - you had to have felt it too, you must have kept those memories deep in your heart as did he. You both were meant to be, childhood sweethearts, one soul in two different bodies, created from the same stars and carved out from the same earth, put into the same world to meet and love each other from your first life to the last. You were his and he was yours, you were one and the same, you were lovers - it was written in the stars and in his very flesh, it was a fact as true as his love for you.

His breathing is ragged and he can’t contain his shaking body, he never should have trusted your parents - they obviously didn’t have your best interest in mind, if they cared about you at all they would have never promised your hand to another, they would’ve realized he, Childe, Tartaglia, Ajax, he was the best man for you.

Granted, they hadn’t heard from good little Ajax for years, not ever since he’d left for the Fatui - he only ever kept consistent correspondence with you and his family - but that’s no excuse, there was no excuse for their actions, they were disgusting pests that were blinded by greed. How much money had they taken to accept such a disgusting agreement? 500,000 Mora? No, that was too cheap… 1,000,000? 2,000,000? More? Maybe it was in the tens of millions, there was no way you were being given away for less, right?

“Ahhh,” the ginger sank in his chair, his trembling hands finding his hair and pulling at the soft strands in frustration, “what do I do now? What should I do? What should I do? Shit… this can’t be happening.”

He wanted to cry and destroy everything. Destroy that man, no… that poor, pathetic excuse of a man that had dared try and stake his claim on you. This wasn’t your fault, there was no way you knew – never once in your letters had you mentioned a lover nor a wedding, you would have told him - would have begged for him to save you - if you did know you must have cried and begged for them to not marry you to that bastard, sobbed as you muttered his - Ajax’s - name like a mantra, begging to be taken by him and finally wed to the true love of your life.

It felt like the world was falling and crushing him alive.

How could they do this to you? How dare they do this to you? To him, to you, to the both of you.

He could just have the man killed, sent on a suicide mission disguised as an essential step for gnosis hunting - maybe even under the pretense of a promotion, he was sure he’d accept anything, he was a no name soldier that would probably be forgotten by the next round of recruitment -, and make your parents go bankrupt, burn their house and have their businesses fail before delivering the final blow of jailing them due to fraud or maybe even executed under claims of treason; the thoughts calmed his rapid heart, if only slightly.

They needed to be taught a lesson, they shouldn’t put their dirty, greedy hands where they didn’t belong.

But no, that’d be too light of a punishment, and there would be so many loose threads - he’d rather be on good terms with your family - if only for you -, could it maybe be a misunderstanding? It could be, right? They were like family to him once, after all, and a part of him hates the idea of them having grown so vile and corrupted, they were supposed to be his in-laws and he’d rather his children have both sets of grandparents. Not to mention, you’d be so sad to see them gone, even if there was a chance they were worth nothing more than dirt.

No, that wouldn’t do, his wife couldn’t be sad - he’d confront them as soon as physically possible, question their actions and propose a better arrangement, and depending on their answer they would become the Fatui’s latest show of loyalty to the Tsaritsa or officially join the perfect future he’d dreamed of with you.

Yes, that’s what he’d do, his shaking heart finally comes to a rest as he begins to plan his trip. If things went south he could easily have his initial plan executed quickly, and while he doesn’t particularly like the idea of having to plan their execution arrangements, justice wasn’t always pleasant.

It’d be alright, surely all of this could be resolved through a mature, adult conversation. And if not, then Childe wasn’t a Harbinger for naught.

It takes him a few days until he’s able to find the time to meet up with your parents, though, honestly, it’s more like barging into your home unannounced and demanding answers. He has a job - a serious job, after all, one that demands his presence and takes true effort and work, unlike that shitty excuse of meat your parents wanted you to marry - and he had matters to attend to – after all forging evidence for a possible execution isn’t easy and he wants to be prepared, it was one of the few times where he wanted to come in with a proper battle plan.

He had it all planned out if things went south, a few reports here, some testimonies there, a lengthy transcript or two, a handful of bank reports, and soon your parents would look like traitors to the crown and be sentenced to public execution.

All he had to do was confront them in person. He wasn’t sure if your parents would be home, he hoped so as to not prolong such a troublesome process any longer, but he was willing to wait. He was getting his answers today, one way or another; he’d free you from this horrid arrangement and whisk you away to give you the life you truly deserved.

Luckily for him, you live in the same neighborhood as you always had, so no time had to be wasted searching for your family’s whereabouts. It had been a long time since he’d had the chance to come back to his childhood neighborhood and he can’t help the giddiness in his heart as he strolls through memory lane while making his way down the streets you two shared a childhood in, it looked almost the same - a few differences here and there like a new house or someone’s place having been renovated, but it felt just like home. His parents had long since moved houses into a fancier side of the city, the money Childe managed to bring home as a Harbinger long since allowing them the luxuries that had once felt impossible, but he almost wishes they hadn’t as he spots your family’s humble abode, his heart longing back to the days of your shared youth.

It’s a two story house, built with strong wood made to resist Snezhnaya’s harshest winters and the cold summers, the roof was made of strong wood and designed so that snow would fall as to not sink, the front yard still held the swing you’d begged your parents for on your tenth birthday, the mailbox was still slightly crooked from the time he had head-butted it when racing you back from the park, the flowerbed still held the same flowers and plants that were able to withstand Snezhnaya’s harsh weather, the tree somehow still seemed to harbor the countless balls you two had gotten stuck there back when you were in your preteens; it was like it had been frozen in time, the only true difference he could spot was your older figure sitting on the front steps looking as if you were waiting for something, maybe someone; maybe him.

His heart stops as do his steps, he’d been so busy the last couple of years he hadn’t been able to pay you a visit in person, he’d had a few soldiers patrol the area before, but nothing could prepare Ajax for the surge of emotions that coursed through his body as he laid eyes on you.

Your body was taller and you had grown into your features, but you were still you - your eyes still shined with the hope and love he’d long since lost while your lips were still as tempting as he remembered. There was no doubt it was you, he’d recognize you anywhere; no matter how much you changed. But you looked sad, your lips downcast, your eyes filled with tears, and your frame hunched over, it was clear you were cold by the shaking of your frame but you didn’t falter - still sitting down with a flimsy blanket wrapped around you as you waited.

The scene made him pick up his pace, he was desperate to reach your side; what had happened? Why did you look so sad? Were you hurt? His men had not informed him of anything happening that would explain the crystal like tears that pooled in your eyes, just the sight was enough to have his blood boiling and fists shaking as he wondered who was responsible for the pain you so openly displayed.

Have you found out about Andrei and your parents’ sins? The thought of them being the reason for your sorrow made him grow dizzy with rage, but the negative feelings can only last so long as he has you in his sights. Your mere presence seemed to lull his emotional heart into a more tranquil state.

“[Y/N]?” Childe asked, he was only a few feet away from you but he didn’t dare walk closer, “Is that you?”

“A-Ajax?” Your eyes widened, hope evident in your voice and it’s like all traces of the previous pain in your face had vanished, “Oh, Ajax!”

You hesitate for a second before breaking into a smile when you realize it really was him. It almost looks like you want to burst into tears and he’s sure he probably doesn’t look any better, seeing you in the flesh after so long felt like a dream and as if every moment without you until now had been but a nightmare, he can’t help himself from running towards you and throwing himself into your arms. He looks older, definitely more mature, his is build stronger now - probably due to the fighting and training he endured as a Harbinger, you thought - but his smile was still the same, perhaps a bit empty but it still filled your heart with a warmth that could battle Snezhnaya’s unforgiving cold. It felt right to have him back in your arms as if time had never been cruel and taken him away from you, you could have sweared your worries disappeared the moment you took in his warmth.

His white coat floats through the air as he lands between your arms, and you can feel his smile in your chest as he hugs you tight.

He was finally home, he thought, in your arms and back in the neighborhood that had raised him - he was with you and that was all that mattered, the man was filled with so much ecstasy he could almost forget why he’d come here.

“What are you doing here?” You ask him, your voice is shaky and the ginger feels himself melt at the familiar tone of your voice.

“I should be asking you that,” he laughs, his eyebrows becoming furrowed in concern as he speaks, “it’s freezing, darling, you shouldn’t be outside.”

“I… I was waiting for one of your letters,” you whisper shyly, during your time away from each other - weekly letters had been your primary source of communication, something you’d learn to love and cherish as one of the few forms of contact you and Childe could have without your parents knowing his dangerous job and position.

“You’re so cute,” he coos, he feels a weight lift off his shoulders as he realizes you were safe, if anything he feels ashamed he hadn’t been able to send you anything and caused you such pain, his heart aches as he tries to wrap around his head he may have hurt your feelings, his gloved fingers find your cheek and squeezes it tightly, “however, it’s too cold for you to be outside with just a blanket, my love.”

“I know,” you shake your head, you go to lift a hand to wipe the stray tears that had escaped you but Childe takes care of it for you as he delicately caressed your face, “it’s just, I hadn’t heard from you in almost two weeks and I got worried, I thought… maybe something had happened in Liyue and you’d gotten hurt.”

“O-oh… I’m sorry,” his deep blue eyes look downcast as he processes your words, “I never meant to worry you, I had so much to do and to say that instead of a letter I decided to come meet you in person, i-isn’t that better, love? I simply couldn’t be away from you any longer, it’s my fault, though, I should have told you so earlier, ahh… I can’t believe I’ve made my angel cry.”

A poor soldier would have their head cut off tonight, he thought, for he was certain he’d sent a bag full of letters meant to last you at least a full season to be delivered everyday to you while he arranged for this mess to be solved.

You nod as stars fill your eyes before shaking your head as if assuring him you were alright. You loved Ajax and you had loved him for almost all your life, from the moment you met him you’d been charmed by his boyish good looks and charisma, of course a few things had changed, but he was still your sweet Ajax, the boy who’d stolen your heart and kept it safely within his arms for as long as you’ve known him.

“Come on,” you signal him to stand up with a soft pat and the man has to stop himself from begging for more of your touch, “let’s go inside, you must be tired and we have so much to talk about.” He nods and lets himself be pulled up by you as you giggle and smile about finally being able to talk face to face after years of not being able to physically see each other.

You feel like a teenager again as you lead Ajax into your house, your heart beating like you were confessing your love for the first time - the excitement was practically the same, your head felt fuzzy from the warm feeling holding Childe’s hand gave you; you had missed him terribly. You feel like you were about to explode into a million piece from excitement, your head filled with everything you’ve ever wanted to say to Ajax’s face ever since he left, all the news that felt too important to simply write out and that had you hoping a day like this would finally come, you’re scared of coming off too intensely but your heart truly feels like it’ll burst from joy, unfortunately your excitement comes to an abrupt end when you finally drag him into your living room. You turn around to offer him a drink or something to eat, the trip from the capital all the way over here was a couple hours long and he’d always had quite an appetite, but you’re faced with a look of disappointment and slight anger as he looks around the room, your heart sinks - just seconds ago he was all smiles and laughter as you two embraced each other in the harsh winter, having created a warm paradise between each other, but now he looked as if he couldn’t stand to be in your house and you wonder if maybe you’d angered him somehow even though you logically knew you’d done nothing other than invite him inside.

Maybe you were overreacting, you think, you’d been quite paranoid as of recently, your family had been distant and you’d been feeling lonely and anxious for a while. It’d been an embarrassingly long time since you’d had guests over, at least, guests that mattered to you and hadn’t been your parents’ friends or siblings spouses. The look in Ajax’s face makes your stomach churn; had something happened?

“Are your parents home?” He asks, his voice tinged in a mixture of distaste and sadness, it’s lower than when he’d spoken to you earlier and you wonder what could have happened to create such a drastic change in his behavior. If you took the time to notice you’d see how his eyes glare at the family portrait; the two traitors clear as day as they embraced their children, Childe couldn’t help but see them in a new, more negative and hateful light.

Not after two weeks of research, not when he was now certain they wanted to get in his way.

“No, they said they weren’t coming home until later tonight, but if you want to stay till then I’m sure they'd love to see you again,” you try to reassure him thinking he was perhaps saddened at not being able to see your parents, it’d make sense since, unlike you two, they hadn’t been able to keep in touch since the young man’s career in the Fatui began.

“I… I don’t think I want to meet them, no,” Ajax shakes his head, his hair bouncing as he makes his way to your sofa, his legs tremble slightly – cowards, he thinks, not even able to show their faces, “I actually came here to talk to them but, ha… now that I’m here I’m not too sure.”

“Hmm, how so?” You ask, your heart - which was already quite nervous at his sudden change of mood - sinks further, a sudden uneasiness fills your lungs.

He’d come here in hopes of finding you parents and confronting them with his findings, he would have offered them a chance to redeem themselves and cancel the wedding without you even finding out about the secret dealings they’d been making in your name, but they were not here, you were. Maybe, he could change his battle plan, if he couldn’t talk to your parents… why not simply talk to you? If he’d offered a higher sum and never asked you himself, he’d be no better than that lowlife and your parents, not that you’d reject him - but the thought of steeping as low as they did made him sick.

“What are your thoughts about marriage?” The question is so sudden and unrelated to the previous topic you instinctively frown.

“Marriage,” you sit down opposite of him, it feels like you’re in a job interview as he questions you, “I mean, I’ve thought about it but I’m not sure I want to get married, at least not now, I’m not too sure I’d want to give it all up; I mean, I have a job and friends, there’s so much to do, so much I want to do… and I can’t say I’d be able to do it all if I was married. I’d like to travel and, I… I don’t know, learn more I guess, I feel like if I settle down it'll be once I’m more, you know, confident or mature?”

You trail off awkwardly, it was true - the only times you’d ever seriously thought about marriage often included you being significantly older and, most of the time, with an already retired Ajax — though you wouldn’t admit that to his face unless you were certain he felt the same. You’d rather keep that last part hidden, if not for fear of making him uncomfortable, for the sake of your heart and fear of being brushed aside. Your parents had made it quite clear; you were no marriage-material, you’d be lucky if you even manage to get a partner at this rate, and you doubted a man as accomplished as Tartaglia, Ajax, the 11th Harbinger, would settle for a average, clumsy, pessimistic small town girl such as yourself.

He stays quiet as if a million thoughts were racing around his head; that wasn’t the answer he particularly wanted, he’d rather hear you’d been fantasizing of marrying him, hear you ramble on and on about how you’d been waiting for him and were just about ready to go down the aisle with him and promise yourself to one another but he was glad you weren’t against the idea of marriage, even if he wished you’d been more open about doing it sooner rather than later; but that would change, he was sure of it.

“And, uh, what about you?” You ask, the air felt heavy and you desperately wanted to ease the tension, only one thought was really running through your head that you were too afraid to ask; “What was going on with Ajax?”

“Me?” The question snaps him out of whatever mental trance he’d caught himself in, “Well, I want to get married, the sooner the better, I want to have a family, but it’s gotta be with the person I love the most in this world, I couldn’t bring myself to imagine living without them.”

Neither the words themselves nor the sentiment are crazy, even if you’d only just gotten to know him, it was obvious Ajax wanted a loving family to call his own and it was a pretty common desire for many, it more so was the way his eyes seemed to bore into your own as he spoke, as if he were trying to let you know it was you who he was talking about. You flustered at the thought, it was perhaps selfish to think it was you he was talking about but the thought pleased you nonetheless even if your parents’ words echoed in your mind.

“That’s, ah,” you mumble, breaking eye contact and looking elsewhere, trying to calm your beating heart, you should stop being so silly - he was here to talk with your parents, not you, both of you meeting was mere coincidence, nothing else, “really nice, I hope you find them soon..”

“You do?” He smiles, seemingly pleased with your words, but it’s significantly weaker than usual.

There’s an awkward silence as you wonder if maybe, just maybe, he’d come here to propose. You know it sounds crazy and incredibly sudden but the mention of marriage and wanting to talk to your folk, the fact he’d made the time in his incredibly busy schedule and travels to come over to your house, it made it sound like he had ulterior motives for coming here and just the thought of them had you flustered. You may have just said you wanted to hold off on marriage, that you doubted someone like him would even think of being your partner, but you felt certain that if Ajax asked for your hand you would agree with no hesitation – out of a pitiful mix of love and desperation.

You’re unsure of what to do and are about to speak up, willing to say almost anything to move the conversation forward and away from the topic, but he beats you to it and breaks the silence first.

“Listen, dove… I-I love your parents and I wouldn’t accuse them of something like this if I didn’t have evidence, okay?” He lies through his teeth, after finding out the way they were so willing to get in between you two he could barely stand the thought of them now, but he’s lucky the rest of the words come easy, “I really didn’t want to believe this either, but I have many a reason to suspect they may be trying marrying you off soon to a stranger.”

“W-What?” You breathe out, you struggle to process his words, it’s as if they’d bounced off your brain and floated off elsewhere, “M-marrying me off? What’s - what do you mean?”

No, no, no way.

You feel yourself grow tense and light headed.

What sort of messed up prank was this? There was no way… right?

“It seems they found a member of the Fatui,” he shakes his head, “a guy named Andrei Galkin, and they’re planning to marry you off to him, so I decided to ask around - it seems like it’s been a topic for a while now, money may be involved too, the reason I came here was to… have a talk with your parents, see if I could change their mind.”

“D-do you even have proof?” You ask with a shivering voice, heat rushes to your cheeks as you begin to feel hot in embarrassment and anger; your parents were meaning to sell you off to some man? This had to be a joke Childe was playing, you’d known he’d become a bit off after the Abyss incident and you knew his time as a Harbinger probably messed him up, but this wasn’t funny. It was disgusting, the mere prospect has you trembling as you try and grasp what on earth was happening. However, the more you look at him, you wonder if this is a joke at all. You studied him and his expression, desperately trying to see anything on his face that’d indicate this was a sick prank from his part, a cheeky smile or maybe lack of eye contact - anything would do, you felt yourself begin to hyperventilate as you realized how absurd it’d be for him to come all the way to a village hours away from the main city to play such a horrible joke on you, one he must have known would cause you pain and anguish — you doubted he’d want to see you like this, at least you hoped he wouldn’t want to see you like this.

Oh, the realization makes you grow lightheaded, he was probably telling the truth.

“There’s correspondence between them and his family, there’s also a wedding venue booked under their names,” Ajax mumbled, his voice a mere whisper against the sound of your beating heart, he pulls a few files from his coat and hands them to you - your last name is printed on the cover and you quickly open them and browse through the pages, your heart sinks, “I also found money transactions between your family and the Galkin family, about… I’m sorry but I can’t —“

“How much, Ajax?” You feel stiff and your hands start shaking making it hard for you to continue flipping through the countless reports, photographs, records, bank transactions, and letters, your blood feels terribly cold as you try to calm down the whirlwind of feelings that coursed through your body, but you couldn’t bring yourself to calm down, not when your family, your parents of all people, have seemed to been able to calmly put a price on not only your love but your person as well.

“About 900,000 Mora,” he mutters, cold blue eyes avoiding your gaze as he continues, “to Uncle and Auntie from Andrei’s family.”

“900,000 Mora…” You feel your heart shatter as Childe brings a comforting hand towards your shoulders, his calloused fingers massaging your tense muscles, “You’re… you’re serious, aren’t you?”

“I’d never lie about such a thing,” he approaches you slowly, Ajax continues speaking as he envelops you with a hug soon after removing the papers from your trembling hands,“this pains me as much as it pains you.”

All of this was true, it’d taken him a long time to gather it all, but the reality was simple and cruel;

your parents had begun arranging for your marriage to an older Fatui soldier for after his retirement.

“Why… why would they do this?” You mutter, feeling sorrow slowly fill your lungs up - making it harder to breathe comfortably, “H-how could they? How could they? Why… Ajax, w-why?”

You felt like an idiot, just minutes ago you’d naively thought you may be getting proposed to by your childhood lover, a childish and hopelessly romantic thought, but now you’re sitting in your living room, on the verge of a breakdown as you tried to think of why on earth your parents would be willing to accept such an offer on your behalf, why they’d use you - their daughter - for Mora.

“Shhh, it’s okay, let it out,” he brings your head into his shoulder, caressing your back in a soothing manner, “it must feel horrible, I’m sure.”

And so you sit there, sobbing into your old friend as you try and process the information presented in front of you. It takes you a good couple of minutes to calm down, by then you two have once again sat down on the couch.

“What am I going to do?” You bury your face into your hands, your body shook as you thought about having to confront your parents once they arrived now with the knowledge you had.

It takes Ajax a couple of seconds before he speaks up, he needed to make it seem like he hadn’t been thinking of this from the moment he’d gotten his hands on the evidence himself; “I have an idea but...”

Your head shoots up in record speed, you could practically feel your neck crack from the sudden move but you didn’t care, you were desperate for a solution - no matter how good or bad it may be; “Oh come on, just spit it out, nothing could be worse than this.”

“Marry me.”

Your eyes widen and your breath hitches; “M-Marry you?”

He nods, sapphire eyes staring you down like a hunter would prey - you didn’t like the way he was looking at you.

“Why?”

“Why?” He echos, you can see him stifle a laugh, “Because it’s either that or marrying some lowlife named Andrei who paid to wed you.”

You feel your body stiffen at the harsh words, they were true but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt to hear. You avoid looking him in the eyes, your hands anxiously twiddle each other.

“… and what if you’re wrong?”

“What?” He asks as if he couldn’t believe what you had just said.

“What if my parents aren’t marrying me off…”

“Darling,” Ajax laughs but his eyes didn’t seem to have gotten the memo, “are you doubting me? I gave you evidence, it’s right there.”

“Not necessarily,” you look away, you couldn’t help but wonder why you needed to explain yourself, “but, come on, I can’t accept this, it’s too sudden and mom and dad, t-they’d never do this to me, right? I’m their daughter, you know? They love me, they said they did and you don’t do this if you love someone, right?. So… so w-what if you’re wrong?”

“Wrong? There’s no other interpretation that makes sense of what we’ve both seen. Why would I lie to you about this? Come on, love, look at me, do I look like I’m enjoying this?” He questions you, “Look at me, come on, listen to me, if it were up to me,” he grabs your chin when you refuse to meet his gaze, his dark blue eyes stare deeply into your soul; they don’t shine the way the once used to, “I would have asked them for their blessing and proposed to you in the plaza, I would have had a ring ordered from Liyue costume made for you, I’d organize for their to be flowers of every color imaginable, even arrange food and music too, there would be hundreds onlookers who’d die to experience a fraction of the joy we would be feeling, I would have invited my family and yours, I’d have you wearing a custom dress, you’d be the happiest woman in Teyvat if I’d have my way… but look where we are instead, can’t you see? This isn’t what I wanted for us, this isn’t what I wanted for you, but we still have time, we can still fix it. But before that first, you have to believe me and get it through your head; this is who they are, this is what they’ve done, your parents don’t love you any more.”

“…” You can only look at him in shock as you feel tears swell in your eyes because it was not far fetched to say that the last few months your family had been distant, that they’d begun to act strange, and that you’d been short on cash for Tsaritsa knows how long, it hurt because a part of you felt like this was plausible. Because it was true, you were the youngest and that you didn’t exactly pull your weight the same way your siblings did, it was true you’d been more of a casualty in your family’s life but that didn’t mean they’d sell you off. No, they had treated you with love and kindness, they’d been there for every big step in your life, they loved you… right? They’d never do this to you, they would never accept Mora in exchange for your hand in marriage. They would never trade their love for you for some Money… right?

Maybe their love was ensuring you had a better future, one where your lover took care of you even if you didn’t exactly choose them, it was true your love life had been awfully stale, that the only person you’d ever been interested in who had also liked you back was in the army, and that you were never quite able to secure a full time job, it was always part-time and you were always booked the least compared to your coworkers. It was true you didn’t have many friends, most of the people your age had moved away by now, you were the only one of your siblings who wasn’t married or dating someone, out of all of your siblings you were the only one who seemed to remain the same no matter how many years passed. Maybe it was exactly what this was, a misunderstood, misplaced, and ill-fitting way of showing their love; but maybe you hated the thought this was their way of expressing it more than you were moved they’d tried at all.

“Shhh, my love,” you didn’t quite catch when Ajax had started wiping your tears away nor when he had managed to get so close, but at that moment – the moment where your whole life felt so uncertain and shaken – you were willing to ignore it all, “it’s okay, I know what you’re thinking… My offer still stands, you can still marry me.”

“And then what?” You sobbed, holding his gloved hands tightly against your cheek, “What am I going to do after that?”

“You’ll move in with me,” he responds matter of factly yet his tone is still soft, as if he feared speaking too loudly would scare you away, “and we’ll tell them together and you’ll make your bags and we’ll be on our way away from all of this mess. Please listen to me, sweetheart, as of right now, I’m the only choice for you – it won’t be bad at all, it’ll be lovely in fact, don’t you want that?”

“…”

“Please, please trust me, I only want what’s best for you,” he continues, ignoring your silence and instead continuing to caress your skin, “I’ve worked with Andrei, he’s no good, he’s older and cranky, he’s always in a bad mood, he won’t satisfy you, and I don’t want you to be miserable, I mean look at you, is this what you want? Hear me out and put trust in me, you won’t regret it; I’ll get you out of this, I promise.”

“But…”

“I love you and I know you love me,” he whispered, drawing closer to you, his voice low as he slowly leans into your lips, he stops right before they can touch his own, “and I’m sure you’ll grow to love this too.”

There’s a silence as you let your options cross your head, you feel yourself grow overwhelmed, being struck with grief and regret in such strong waves you have no choice but to simply give in to the only secure stone you currently see in the storm that was brewing in your mind.

He loved you, he said so himself, and he’d protect you, he’d promised. You could trust him, you had to trust him; you had no one else.

“I’ll… I’ll marry you.”

“That’s my girl.” He boasts, his face – which is now close enough for you to smell the mint in his breath – breaks into a smile before he’s leaning into your face to kiss you; You reciprocate the action and close your eyes, secretly hoping that today was but a nightmare.

You feel his gloved hands wander around your body, the leather-like material is smooth as his skilled digits play around. There’s barely any time to breathe as he continues kissing you until you grow dizzy from the lack of oxygen entering your lungs.

You had always liked Ajax, always dreamed of marrying him, but as your dreams were coming true you couldn’t help but feel suffocated by the circumstances that brought it up.

“Darling,” he moans, as he finally parts himself from your abused lips, “you’re not kissing back, don’t tell me you –“

“Ajax,” you interrupt, your voice barely above a whisper as you desperately try to dive into his eyes, seeking an answer, “why are you doing this?”

The question spoke for itself, no further clarification was needed; why had he come? Why had he revealed your parents’ plans? Was it even as awful as he made it seem? Why did he care? Why now? Did he really want to marry you or did he just feel responsible for you? Why did he bring himself into this mess? Why you, why him, why, why, why, why? Simply; why?

A part of you couldn’t quite believe what you’d heard, you still struggled to grasp the idea that your parents would even think of giving your hand away for Mora, and yet the intensity in his voice, the anger in his tone as he relayed the information he’d gathered could have convinced anyone, you doubted he’d lie about something as severe. If this was the truth, it’d been revealed to you too quickly, you’d been expected to get over it too soon, one moment you find out your parents were getting rid of you and your trust in the most materialistic of ways and the next you’ve been proposed to by a man you hadn’t seen in person for over half a decade. You can’t help but wonder if you said yes because you loved him or because you were desperate, for what - you didn’t know.

“Because I love you,” he speaks, his dull eyes finding yours and you wonder if they’d always lacked light, “I love you… and I’m not letting anyone get in my- our way.”

In his head, this was the only way to have you, this was the only way to love you, he was going to save you.

He doesn’t stop to wait for your response before he’s picked you up with ease, years of training and hard work evident by how nonchalantly he walks around your house and goes up the stairs, ignoring all the other rooms and picking up the pace the closer you got to the destination; you were going to your bedroom, you realize, the one you’d been occupying since you were a child. You never thought your house to be small but the speed in which he was walking made you aware of how short the distance between your bedroom and living room was.

“Ajax, what are you doing?” You whimper, you hold on tightly to the ginger, you’re so close you can smell his cologne, afraid he’d let you do if you let up even for a second.

“I’ll show you,” he continued down the hall, there’s an edge to his voice that gives you a chill, he sounded almost angry but with whom you did not know, “I’ll show you why I’m doing this.”

You two finally make your way to your bedroom where he kicks the door open and plops you, quite unceremoniously, down onto the mattress. He kicks off his shoes and wiggles his heavy coat off before climbing the bed with you, he tugs you around until you’re below him.

“You’re doing all of this too fast, calm down,” you argue, pain and sorrow still evident in your voice and it hurts his soul to hear it, “you don’t have to prove me anything, I…”

“Everything I’ve said is true, love,” the red-head insists, “and I’m doing this equally for me as I’m doing it for you.”

You don’t respond, instead you opt to look away; his gaze was becoming too intense and it was making you feel funny in ways you hadn’t felt before.

“Look at me,” his hands find your jaw and he redirects your gaze forcefully, “you’ve already said yes, unless… don’t tell me you,” his eyes darken as they narrowed, an almost animalistic look took over his features, “you lied and you don’t want to marry me.”

“I… I do, I’ve always wanted to, but,” It’s embarrassing to admit but you do so anyway in fear of creating a misunderstanding between the two of you, everything was going so fast you were struggling to keep up, “but… is this really how you want to do it?”

You were certain you could take things slower, maybe wait for your parents to come home and talk to them, you didn’t understand why he was in such a hurry, was this healthy? Was this okay?

“Yes,” it seems like he can sense your hesitation so he continues, “I wouldn’t have it any other way.” His words held so much certainty you almost feel stupid for even questioning him, he drew near your lips once more before engulfing your mouth in a kiss, this time with much more vigor than before.

His teeth nip at your lips, begging for entry and you shyly grant it, slowly parting your mouth open. It’s all so messy as you feel his tongue enter your mouth, the muscle seemingly had a life of its own as it mapped your mouth, teeth clashed against each other as if he were desperate to dominate you.

His hands find your waist and insists on pushing you further into the bed, molding your body into the mattress, as he rubs your sides with slow, sensual movements that light your body ablaze. The contrast between the continuous attacks on your lips and the soft stroking of your body left you dizzy, he handled you as if you were made of porcelain and yet ravaged you like a beast when granted access.

You unknowingly whine as your lips finally part, taking a deep breath of air in the process, a thin strip of saliva connected you both, a lewd indicator of the passion Ajax wished to imprint on you. You’re both panting, clearly riled up from the heated kiss, but the man on top of you insisted on letting his hands work their way through you. Your eyes trail downwards where his gloved digits traced the shape of your body, the way they glide across your curves and dips was hypnotizing, and you miss the way a smirk overtakes his features as he realizes how tightly he’s got you wrapped around those very same fingers.

You feel his breath before you hear his words; “Can I take this off?”

His voice is barely above a whisper yet his question rings around the room like a scream, you feel yourself grow hot under your clothes; the same ones he’d just asked to remove off of you.

You’re too embarrassed to answer him, still slightly hesitant to continue going, you can feel your cheeks heat up into a burning mess and you’re scared that if you speak you’ll make a fool of yourself, so instead you nod slowly, trying to calm your racing mind, moving your eyes elsewhere in hopes you wouldn’t have to see the smug look his face was sure to take.

However, he’s quick to catch your face and redirect your gaze back to himself; “Thank you.”

You let him pick you from the bed to fiddle with the claps on the back of your dress, his fingers are swift in figuring out how to free you from your outer layers, it’s almost amazing how quickly he’s able to take your clothes off until you’re clad in your modest undergarments.

Due to Snezhnaya’s unforgiving winters you often layered multiple articles of clothing and prioritized warmth over aesthetics, the thought your underwear might be underwhelming doesn’t cross your mind until you’re left with your thigh-length woolen socks and plain bra and panties. You wonder if maybe the sight would be disappointing for a man as well traveled as Childe, he’s probably seen much more appealing bodies and clothes during his travels, but that idea goes as quickly as it comes when you finally see his reaction to your partially bare body.

Even though he still wore multiple layers, you could see the way his chest had begun to fall and rise unsteadily, his cheeks have taken a feverish glow, and his breath has become noticeably ragged, the hands that held the clothes he’d recently taken off your body were clearly shaking, his fists tightened their grip on the soft fabrics of your garments until they wrinkled. His eyes never left you, even as they traveled through your body, mapping out every nook and cranny he so desperately wanted to mark and savor, he didn’t dare let his gaze wander as if afraid the minute he did you’d disappear and he’d wake up in his office, cold and alone.

“Hah…” Ajax lets out a soft moan as he takes in the sight in front of him, he feels weak and bothered as he watched your breasts rise and fall as you breathed, he lets his eyes go downwards until he’s face to face with your covered pussy and he feels his underwear slowly moisten as he catches sight of a small wet patch that had formed in your panties.

“Don’t look at me like that…” You mumble into your arms, your body instinctively tries to hide itself but your friend doesn't allow it. The minute he feels your legs try to bundle together he slots himself in between them and throws your clothes away so he can fully grasp and force them apart.

There’s silence as you both stare at each other, waiting for one of you to make the first move and fully pass the point of no return.

Surprisingly, this time it’s you who grows impatient and drags the ginger down to meet your hungry lips.

Maybe it’s because right now, Ajax felt like the only person who cared about you and you felt desperate to feel comforted, you felt betrayed and hurt and you craved to be reminded you were loved. It wasn’t healthy and a part of you felt guilty, like you were using him for momentary comfort, as if you’d forced him to come and offer his hand in marriage, if you were smarter and stronger maybe you would’ve realized what was going on and could have stopped it. But he’d said he loved you, right? You loved him, you knew you did and he’d gone and declared his love for you first, even when you were kids he was always dedicated to reminding you of his adoration, but your parents said that too and where did that lead to? He wasn’t doing this out of feeling obligated to care for you, was he?

Maybe this was a mistake, you probably should not be initiating sex with a man you haven’t seen in person in years after he came to tell you your parent had sold you off to marry some rich old, gross soldier, you instead should have sat down and talked for longer, tried figuring out what was going on and perhaps find a solution that didn’t include you marrying your childhood sweetheart, not out of love but out of fear of being forced into an arranged marriage with a stranger. But the fact of the matter is that you didn’t do that, you let yourself be dragged along by his passion and desperation, you now laid in bed making out with Ajax as you desperately tried to push the thoughts of self-doubt and disgust away.

You try to focus on the present without thinking of the past nor the future; The almost one million Mora your parents had pocketed didn’t mean anything, there was no Andrei Galkin, Ajax had never left you, the Fatui didn’t exist, there hadn’t been any betrayal or hurt feelings, you were safe and you were free, there was nothing. In this room, at least for this moment, all that existed was you and Tartaglia.

His shirt is a barrier between your greedy hands and his naked body that’s becoming increasingly annoying as you parted your lips to grant him access to your all of mouth, which he gladly accepts as your tongues caress each other in a sloppy manner, you feel your teeth sometimes clash with his own but you’re too focused on tugging at his clothes, trying to get them off with the least amount of space between you both to care. They could rip, you didn’t care, you wanted to feel his body and warmth, you needed to feel alive.

Your body is starting to feel tingly, your nipples feel hard against your bra and your lower region becomes needy. You want him to touch you more but his hands are busy fiddling with your hips and waist, alternating between the two spots as he caresses and pinches your skin.

You both seem hesitant to let each other go even if it’s for something as necessary as catching your breaths, but even if things seemed to have slowed down it didn’t mean something isn't happening.

“Ajax,” your voice is soft and breathless, you feel your lungs beg you to not speak, “take ‘em off, wanna touch you…”

You gesture at his clothes, slowly running a finger around his chest and stopping at - where you guessed - his nipple was and pressing down hard.

A deep grunt of approval escaped the man’s lips at the feeling and it took him a second to nod, busy trying not to focus too much on the way he felt his cock throbbing, and back off to make way for him to take his clothes off. Childe refuses to completely climb off you, instead leaning backwards to unbutton his shirt and click off the harness he wore, his coat falling behind is his figure, and his shoes long since thrown elsewhere, his pink nipples are clearly sensitive as his eyes shut off tightly as his clothes graze them, his whole body felt on fire - as if your mere presence were an aphrodisiac to the man. Next is his pants and socks and he does his very best to be as quick as humanly possible, they’re all off in record speed and he’s soon only wearing his underwear.

The minute he’s done, he’s thrown himself back onto you as if trying to make up for the few seconds he’d parted from you.

You’re flustered as you finally feel his skin freely come in contact with yours, as if the situation slowly began sinking in just then. Not to mention, you’d caught sight of his raging boner through the thin layer of fabric that constituted his undergarments. It looked big and thick and you wondered, if you even reached that point, if it was even possible to feel good from such a thing pounding on your hole, it looked like it’d hurt more than anything. But a greedy part of you was desperate to find out how it’d feel to have all of him inside of you, to have his fat tip caressing the deepest corners of your body, painting your gummy insides white.

This time, you both skip the kissing and go straight to touching each other, this time more shamelessly and with less hesitance. Your hands find his neck and you pull his head into the crook of your neck where he dedicates his time to litter kisses across the area, you let your hands wander across his shoulders and neck, softly scratching the skin under your nails whenever he kisses a particularly sensitive spot. On the other hand, Ajax let his hands travel across your chest and cup your breasts, he molds the flesh like a stress ball, tightening his grip and pulling at them like they were toys. The feeling of your bra coming into contact with your hardening nipples makes you whimper and moan while your body contorts in an attempt to meld deeper with the man on top of you.

Your movements are restricted and awkward as you were currently caged between the bed and him, but you do your best to communicate your growing neediness.

“A-Ajax, mhmm~!” You gasp, his teeth gnaw at a spot in your neck that has a shot of neediness reaching your privates in electrifying waves, “… more, I wan’ more…”

You can feel his lips curve into a smirk as he hears the desperation in your voice but he’s not better at concealing the very obvious way your words affected him; “My dove wants more? Hah—haha, a-aren’t you such a cute ‘nd needy little thing.”

You huff slightly at his teasing words but you can’t deny that the way he addressed you as “his” made you grow increasingly horny. He seems to hear your soft complaint and finally parts with your neck, which was now littered with hickies and love bites, to allow himself to gaze deeply into your eyes.

You could never deny that Ajax’s eyes were the prettiest shade of blue you’d ever seen, they resemble sapphires and noctilucous jade but with less shine. When you both were younger you’d spend hours gazing upon them, admiring the intensity they held. Now, however, you can’t say you aren’t slightly intimidated as he gazes at you like a predator. His hands leave your body and you’re immediately missing the warmth they provided you, in fact, you’re about to complain and ask him to touch you again when he suddenly cups your clothed pussy with his hand.

His hand is large, his fingers are long and the palm is in no way small, which meant most - if not all - of your cunt was now being held in one of his hands. His thumb is hovering over your clit and you gasp as you feel him tighten his hold and trace his fingers across your slit and up to your sensitive nub.

You squirm, letting your bottom grind against his hands, slowly building up your pleasure until you’re letting out soft moans and whines. Tartaglia decides to aid you as he himself works towards getting his member hard and oozing with release by moving his hand across your pussy and grinding on your thighs simultaneously. Your mind grows hot and dazed as you sense your pussy begin to drool, you could feel the way your juices leaked, the wet trail they’d leave and traveled across your your entrance, down your slit and across your thighs, soaking your underwear with release; you wondered if Ajax could feel your excitement too.

You could certainly feel him. His cock had long since been hard and leaking precum, you could make out through hazy eyes and desperate movements a wet patch on his boxers. It looked so big constrained against the fabric, you wanted to free his cock and feel it inside your hole, any of them, his balls seemed to hold unceremonious amounts of cum as the wetness kept growing more and more visible to you, you wondered if he’d be willing to come inside of you if you asked.

You both work together, trying to make the other as aroused as possible until someone snapped and began demanding the intercourse you both clearly wanted.

You don’t want to give in, not yet, but he’s begun to tease your slit with his fingertips and you’re growing aggravated from the empty feeling in your cunt. You feel yourself clenching onto nothing, your walls closing desperately trying to find anything to grip onto, you are growing desperate to feel something inside, be it his fingers, his tongue or his cock — you wanted him inside of you, now.

“Ha… hah~” You can feel his tongue hanging from his open mouth, drool escapes his parted lips and coats your breasts, you’re surprised he’s managed to keep himself up for so long, all the training he’d endured paying off and allowing him to mount your thighs and grind his length against your skin, his expression is one of extreme arousal that makes you tense and grow lust-drunk, “T-Tell me… d’ya wanna feel my cock in your pussy yet, darling?”

“…! M—mhk?!” You let out a high pitched whine as a particular stroke of his hands delves momentarily into your clothed hole, you can feel your cum slowly dirty your underwear.

“Look at you,” he chuckles, his movements growing erratic, his ginger hair seems darker and less vibrant against his reddened face, “your… your pussy is beggin’ for me!”

“Please…” Your voice is barely above a whisper, your body still rocks alongside his own as he uses your body to get off and bring you close to a mind-numbing release, your voice wavers as your whole being is shocked from the pleasure Ajax’s hand toying with your clothed cunt brings, your legs twitch and your body keeps contorting and folding.

“Hmm, please what? I need you to tell me,” he mumbles, his voice takes a deep, desperate and animalistic tone as he continues, he takes his fingers and starts to circle your clit with an unimaginable force, “What do you want, huh? If you want me to fuck y-you, you’ll need to use your big girl words. Say; “I want my husband’s cock inside of me”, come on, ask for y-your husband’s cock…!”

“A~Ajax…! Please-uh…” Your body begins to hurt, your very own genitals seem to be burning in fire as you desperately try to soothe the ache in your womb and clit. You begin to rut against his hands at an embarrassing, almost objectifying, pace, absolutely desperate to cum and lift the cloud of lust that seemed to haunt you from the moment Ajax laid your body on your mattress.

“That’s not who I am,” he mumbles into your skin, his teeth beginning to bite and mark the flesh of your breast, “I’m y-your husband now, right? So, ask for it properly… hah~ won’t you?”

“… want my h-husband’s cock, I… inside of me, please,” you whine between heavy breaths, “I… want to fuck my—hah… h-husband…”

The moan that leaves his lips is loud and primal, his whole body shudders as he hears your plea. He didn’t think he could get any harder and yet hearing your shaky voice ask for him sends a rush of blood through his body and straight to his dick.

“Ahaha… that’s right, isn’t it? I-I’m your husband now,” an unsettling grin starts to form on his face, one that, if you weren’t so desperate and vulnerable, would probably have sent a shiver down your spine; it was an expression that resembled his face after ending a powerful opponent, one that meant victory was his, that he’d won, it was the face many people would see before departing the realm of the living, one of pure, unhinged bliss that could only be understood by a man such as himself, “I’m your husband, your husband… a-ah! Ha-ah, that means… hah, that means it’s my duty to fuck you, to make you feel good, a good husband makes love to his spouse, right? S-so as your husband, I get to be inside of you… a-and make you cum lots. Yeah, I… I’m going to be the best husband, you’ll feel good too… So be a good wife and take all of my love, ‘kay?”

During his incoherent rambling, which you barely could understand, he works to rid you of your underwear with desperate movements. His hands pull at the fabric with enough force that they tear, allowing him to rip the fabric off your hips and discard it on the floor. The cool air in your room hits your lower end and makes you shiver, your body had been previously engulfed by Childe’s warmth, the feeling of his own heating body and rapid blood circulation had sheltered you from the freezing temperature outside of the sinful haven between your bodies. The difference in temperature and its effect on you seems to have been noticed by your partner, who looks around the room trying to find a solution.

You want to hurry him up, tell him you didn’t mind the cold, that you just wanted to feel him inside you for the first time, but before you know it he’s pulling something from behind; his white coat soon is back on his shoulders, lazily throw on, barely holding up as he quickly pulls his underwear off. He’s quick and precise, never wasting a moment as he adjusts himself on top of you once more, this time with his bare cock leaking on your stomach.

“I’ll heat you up… inside and out, hah…” He mumbles, adjusting the coat so it covers both of you, the long, heavy material immediately worked wonders as your body regained its warmth.

You nod, wrapping your arms around his neck to bring him closer to you, you’re both trembling as he slowly lowers his pelvis to meet your own. You were right, he was big and he was long and thick, but he made sure to go slowly as he inserted two fingers to stretch you out in preparation.

Your slick facilitates the intrusion, there’s not much pain as he opens and closes his fingers, curling and extending them, as if trying to gauge how far you could stretch. His cheeks are a bright red, sweat runs through his forehead as he feels your body accommodate the feeling of his fingers. Ajax was big, always taller than most in your village, and his time in the Fatui had definitely contributed to his size – his shoulders were broad, his chest chiseled, and his fingers, the ones that slowly danced inside your pussy, were long and calloused. This was your first time feeling something other than your own hands and Ajax was making sure to show you all the places you could have never reached on your own.

You don’t even realize you’d begun panting, soft whines and moans had been leaving your lips forma while now, noises that only served to encourage Ajax further. But he had to stop, he needed you both to cum together as one. Your first time together had to be romantic like that, both of you climaxing together and coming undone at the same time.

There’s a feeling of emptiness and disappointment that follows the feeling of his fingers leaving your body, you’re about to complain when you see him bring his fingers to his lips to lap at the slick that had stuck to them. You’re mesmerized at the lewd image, gazing hopelessly at the way his face melted into one of pure pleasure as he tasted you. He makes sure to lick his fingers clean, his tongue lapping at the cum.

You catch his eyes and they soften, a lovestruck look taking over his features, you nod and open your legs wider than before; encouraging him to finally fuck you. He positions himself outside of your opening, making sure you grasp your legs and pull them as wide apart as he physically could without hurting you.

Even with the previous preparation, your breath is knocked out of your lungs as his tip slowly makes its way through your slit, past the muscles and finally inside your gummy walls.

He uses his arms to adjust his body, making sure to be as careful as possible as to not hurt you. This was your first time making love to each other, and he’d be damned if he were the one to cause you pain.

He gives you a second before pushing the rest in, he’s still slow, attempting to coax your body into adjusting to the feeling of being so full. His blue eyes are closed, his breath is heavy and you can feel the bed shake as he tries to control himself, you’re not faring much better, your head felt light as all your body could seemingly concentrate on was the feeling between your legs, your body was heating up and you could feel the warmth radiate off your skin.

You know he’s fully sheathed himself when you feel the soft “thud” of his balls hitting your ass, you’ve become hyper aware of the proximity and situation you’re in as his cock begins to throb inside of your pussy, his head comes to rest on the crook of your neck as you both adjust to the feeling of each other's body.

A moment passes, your walls that had previously been gripping Ajax like a lifeline slowly weaken, finally allowing both of you to relax and begin to experiment.

“I-I’ll start…” He mumbles, avoiding your gaze as if feeling shy, he begins to move around as if to grip the bed’s headboard, all while still inside you, his arms allowing him to cover your body from the world.

As you look up, you realize how he’s become all you see, his imposing frame and coat acting as a curtain blocking the outside from entering your view. Your heart feels heavy but you try and pay it no mind.

The movements are slow and clumsy at first, his cock never truly leaves your warmth fully, his tip always kept inside of your cunt - one way or another. The feeling is strange, you’re not used to the way his length would gaze at your walls or the feeling of the veins on his dick caressing spots inside of you that made you gasp and curl your toes. It’s new and it takes some adjusting before you begin to rock your own hips to meet his, suddenly it begins to feel good, really good in fact. There was something about the stretch, maybe it was the feeling of being so full, the way his cock curved and hit spongy spots in your pussy becomes addicting, or maybe it was the fat vein that decorated the underside of his cock, but it wasn’t long until you’re trying to entice a faster, tougher pace.

He takes his time teasing and easing you into the rhythm of sex, he wouldn’t tell you, but a part of him was scared that if he picked up his pace he wouldn’t be able to stop until you were leaking his cum - not to mention, he wasn’t sure he’d last long if he started to fuck you even faster. The feeling of your walls gripping him was divine, there are moments his thrusts grow unsteady and out of sync, as if his body was trying to take control and allow itself to set the animalistic pace he so desperately wanted, it’s these exact moments where his patience is tested, where he wants nothing more than to pick up your body and use it as a toy to fill with his semen.

“I wan’ more,'' you moan and he freezes as he feels your hips pathetically lift up to meet his heated thrust, your lower region coming up and rolling, rocking, and sloppily caressing his own pelvis in an attempt to suck him deeper into your sex, this was the first time you’d ever experienced such fullness and pleasure, your mind was numb and you’d forgotten all about previous sorrows, you truly wanted to feel more and more until all you could think of was Ajax’s cock and feeling good, “… wan’na feel my… my husband’s c-cock…?!”

At the title, the ginger truly can’t help the way his hips basically crash into yours, it was purely instinctual – just the sound of your calling him yours and acknowledging him as your husband, even if you’d only gotten engaged less than an hour ago, was enough to drive him mad with lust. He feels his head grow dizzy as thoughts of breeding you and claiming you as his take over. It’s as if a switch is turned on because from that moment onwards the atmosphere changed completely.

His previously considerate and soft strokes become harsh and rapid, you can feel your bed move rhythmically with his thrusts, your whole body jolts as he begins to fuck you with the sole goal of filling you so deeply your body was to be conditioned to respond lewdly to his mere presence. They’re deeper too as he now focused on feeling and claiming as much of your hole as possible, it’s impossible not to feel the way his cock imprinted itself deeply inside your body.

Your hands are desperate to grasp onto something, so you clutch at the sheets under you as tightly as possible, your body feels hot and heavy; your legs twitch and you're left gasping as Childe grabs your hips to adjust your position. You’re still lying down but your back arches itself to allow him easy access to your bottom, it’s surprising how easily he’s able to manhandle your body while never quite pulling out, always making sure to insert himself as quickly as he exited, never truly pulling out all of his dick.

The new position allows for him to hurry his pace, you’re soon moving like a rag doll with no control over your limbs. You’re left a moaning, whining mess as your brain struggles to process the waves of pleasure that bloomed from deep inside your pussy.

You feel your heart beating and you can almost hear the sound of your slick pouring out and lubricating your walls, making it increasingly easy to continue the Fatui’s pounding of your cunt. You’re not too sure if you’re even able to talk, the thought of forming a coherent sentence felt farfetched, all that leaves your lips are whines, sounds of pure pleasure and bliss that sound like an orchestra to Ajax.

He’s not doing much better, his vocabulary seems to have been reduced to declarations of ownership over you, boundless love, and immense pleasure. Your name soon becomes the only coherent sound leaving his lips as he lets his head fall back, his body almost working on autopilot as he allows his hips to ram inside you while his hands focus on teasing your nipples and forcing you to face his reddening face. His chest shines with sweat as he makes sure to fill the room with the sound of your skin meeting him and the growing wet mess between your merging bodies.

You’re both soon leaking arousal, Ajax’s cock starts to slowly redden and grow inside of you as he approaches orgasm, drops of precum start to form on the tip, and your torso starts to heat up as it feels heavier the better you feel; your cum is soon coating his dick white, a clear indicator he’d been inside your drooling cunt. You let go of the sheets and bring a hand to your clit, desperate to bring yourself closer to release.

“Ah-! Just like that,” Ajax exclaims, lurching forward as he feels your walls tighten around his cock, “tighten around me like that, fu–uck! I’m gonna cum, gonna cum in your pussy, gonna shoot my cum inside you… Haha–hah! You’re… you’re gonna be full with my cum, are you ready?”

You nod mindlessly, too busy playing with your clit and pressing kisses into Ajax’s skin. The feeling of being filled by your childhood sweetheart was intoxicating, it left you an overstimulated mess, moaning and whining as you gripped the man’s shoulders to bring him closer to you.

You couldn’t tell who came first, only that your final push was the feeling of Childe’s lips on yours. Maybe it’s the desperation you felt radiating off him as his tongue caressed your own, the way his hands tighten around your body as he begins unloading his cum begins seeping into your pussy and deep inside your body. You’re a shaking mess as you continue riding your orgasm on his dick, prolonging the pleasurable feeling by rocking your hips into his in an almost shy manner, it’s addicting and you’re left gasping and moaning for more. On the other hand, Ajax was trembling on top of you, his arms seemingly giving out as he collapsed into your body, allowing his head to rest beside your own on your pillows while his cock throbbed and painted your insides with his cum. He gives a few weak thrusts, as if making sure that his balls have been thoroughly emptied, before he looks over at your panting face.

You’re trying to catch your breath, desperately trying to calm your heart down into a stable rhythm, while your body twitches in a post-orgasm afterglow. You’re sweating, your eyes shut tight as you feel your pussy swell around Ajax’s dick, which was very much still inside you, and grow sensitive. Even in this state, where you’re too shaken to do anything other than breathe and try to relax your body, he thinks he’s never seen a more beautiful sight in his life.

His hand, which trembled ever so slightly, travels to find yours and intertwine your fingers together. He subconsciously traces your ring-finger, trying to estimate your size, you’d accepted his proposal, going as far as acknowledging him as your husband, it was now his responsibility to find a suitable ring for you, one worthy of resting on your fingers.

He smiles, cuddling deep into your bare skin, pressing his softening cock deeper into you, which earns him a soft whine from you, essentially plugging his semen inside your pussy.

“… I love you, Ajax.” You mumble, eyes still closed shut, your voice drowsy and far away as exhaustion slowly catches up to you. Today had been hard on you, physically and mentally, you’d learnt more than you’d wished to have known, your relationship with those around you now forever changed; you’d agreed to marry your childhood friend in response to your parents’ betrayal, you’d given up your virginity to him and now laid in bed, struggling to know if you’d made the right decisions. An inner turmoil was growing inside you, a storm of emotions you were not ready to deal with, but right now, as you lay beneath the man who’d promised to save you, you decide to rest and let him take care of it, for now. Your breathing slows down, your body finally succumbing to sleep.

You’re too tired to hear the sound of the front door unlocking, your mother’s voice booming across the house as she calls out for you as she ushers your father and guests inside your family house. Ajax makes no move to leave your bed or even remove himself from inside of you, not even as he recognizes the distinct sound of footsteps that belonged to your parents moving around downstairs, grinnin softly as he hears your mother call out for you again, while your father talked to someone and merrily laughed, joking around, easing the tension of the first meeting between two people set up in an arranged marriage – where only one of them knew.

He can hear your parents talking, making an excuse at where you were, he can hear your mother climb up the stairs, he can hear her getting closer to your room.

What a lousy move, he thought to himself, to ambush you one day and try to dump the news on top of you like this, you didn’t even seem aware of guests coming over to your home at all, he frowned; he had expected more of uncle and auntie. Alas, he’d long since given up on them, he just hopes your mother doesn’t scream too loudly when she sees you two in bed together.

He’d hate for you to wake up to such an awful shriek.

There’s a knock on your door, Ajax smiles but makes no move to answer, and then another as your mother calls out your name. She sighs before threatening to open the door, Ajax has to stifle a giggle, pressing his lips into your shoulder to not let out any noise, too afraid to ruin the surprise for his soon to be mother-in-law, she hears no response, she clearly feels agitated and annoyed, he can hear it the way she knocks once more with a stern calling of your name.

There’s a second of silence before the door is swung open.

Ajax looks over to your mother, his coat covering both your naked forms enough that a semblance of modesty is kept but not enough that what happened between the two of you was misunderstood, it would be clear to anyone who could walk in, and he smiles, leaning his body into your own, further embracing you and pushing your sleeping face into his chest, he rolls over as a playful wave is sent her way, she stands frozen in place. Your bottom halves are still covered by the oversized coat, but the bruises and bites that litter your bodies are enough to paint a picture, his hand moves to caress your body, a smug smile takes over his features as he watches your mother try to come up with the right words to say.

“Hello, ma’am,” his tone is playful but the look on his face is one of pure venom, she looks beyond flustered but isn’t able to say a word; too shaken by the sight, the combination of her daughter and a man in bed together and the Harbinger’s insignia that seemed to shine with even the smallest movements from the ginger was enough to send her stumbling back, “it’s been a while, we have a lot to catch up on, huh?”