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quizzicalwriter · 6 months

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can u plsss do smut dallas x reader where he ties a vibrator to you? thank uuuu

Torment

Pairing: Dallas Winston x Fem!Reader

Summary: Dallas had never been one for toys, but your cute pleading may have swayed him - maybe.

Warnings: SMUT. MDNI. Porn with very little plot. Kissing, touching, fingering, rough sex, titty attention, toys. A whole lotta stuff.

A/N: Thank you for the request!

Word Count: 3.7k

Curiosity had always been your weak point, pure stupid curiosity. It’d wound you and Dallas up in your fair share of odd and semi-expensive situations; one he’d never let you live down being the impromptu visit to a restaurant in the middle of town, the very place where you’d spit your food into your napkin and pouted at the shitty quality until Dallas relented and drove you to a nearby hole-in-the-wall diner that served way better food for half the price.

Sometimes, to your benefit, your curiosity led you to funny or pleasurable paths - which was the main contender for why Dallas could never turn you down, that and your pout worked on him better than an offer of a cigarette. That said pout was exactly how you wound up in the passenger side of Buck’s T-Bird, humming absentmindedly to whatever song buzzed across the static-ridden radio during your thirty-minute drive into the center of town.

“I suppose I’m buying this thing?” Dallas asked around his cigarette, eyes half-squinted from the blaring overhead sun. You smiled over at him, bright smile and all as you nodded. He shook his head through a laugh, removing his cigarette from between his lips to rid the end of its built-up ash. “It better be worth the money.”

You knew it would be, how could it not? You and Dallas were fairly adventurous in bed, so when you prompted the idea of including a ‘toy’ into your time beneath the sheets he was naturally curious himself - until he heard the price. You’d ended up begging, peppering his still-tired face with small kisses until he relented and pushed your face away with a grunted-out laugh.

That’s how you got him to drive you nearly forty minutes into the town over, the only town that had a sex toy store. It was still new, something that wasn’t relatively talked about, but your friends had been raving about the thing and you couldn’t help but want one of your own. You’d promised Dallas that you two could try it out as soon as you’d gotten back to his apartment, something that noticeably excited him, his excitement made ever so apparent by the subtle bulge against the denim of his jeans.

If there was one thing you were eternally grateful for when it came to Dallas, it was his nonchalant nature. You’d seen the man trip and bust his ass right outside of a grocery store, only to get up and pick up his cigarette and continue walking off as if nothing had happened - that and he’d done his fair share of voicing his foul-mouthed opinions loud enough for the damn neighbor to hear. In all honesty, you didn’t think he could care what others thought of him. You admired him for it.

It certainly came in handy when he pulled into the semi-vacant parking lot, right outside the store that overtly advertised what it sold indoors. Sex toys; vibrators, dildos, lube - everything you could need and more, and by God did everyone and their grandmother watch as you two exited the car. Dallas smiled over his shoulder, flicking his now-dead cigarette to the asphalt below before snubbing it out with his heel. His arm hooked around your waist, escorting you inside and away from prying eyes.

“Hello!” Sounded an employee from behind the counter, a very kind-looking older woman, someone you wouldn’t have expected to work in such a store. “Do you two need any help?”

Dallas waved her off with a small smile, leading you through the aisles as his eyes drifted over the various items. You could feel yourself flush, despite there being nobody else in the store besides you three, you couldn’t help but feel bashful over it - especially when Dallas loudly laughed as you both passed an aisle that had nothing but pornographic movies. Very, very lewdly labeled pornographic movies.

“Should we get one?” He joked, smiling over at you as he picked up a box, waving it like he’d just scored something worth hundreds of dollars. You scoffed out a laugh, pushing his hand down with a giggled, “Put that away, Dal.”

It didn’t take long to find the aisle that seemed to be dedicated to vibrators, they ranged from all sizes, from pinkie length to nearly a foot. You knew exactly which one you’d come for, the infamous body wand. It was a hefty thing, the box as long as your forearm. Dallas looked over to you, raising his eyebrows as you held the box to your chest.

“You want that one?” He asked, hand reaching behind himself to grab his wallet. You smiled, nodding as you rocked forward onto your toes. He sighed out a laugh, free hand moving to the small of your back as he guided you toward the front of the store.

You’d hardly placed the box down on the front counter before the woman gasped, a bright smile on her face as she rang up your purchase with a hushed, “I’ve sold so many of those! Nearly twenty this week alone!”

The words made you laugh, the two of you exchanging pleasantries until you and Dallas left the store, merchandise hidden in a discreet brown paper bag. As you situated yourself in the passenger side seat, you peeked into the bag, reading over the claims that’d been etched into the side of the box. The reviews alone had you giddy to try it out, thighs clenching together in excitement as Dallas started the car, peeling out of the parking lot less than a second later.

“How’s that thing work anyhow?” Dallas asked, eyebrows furrowed together as he looked between you and the road. You shrugged, freeing the box from the paper bag before twisting the package around, face flushing slightly at the look of the thing.

“Says you plug it in,” you mumbled, eyes squinting as you read the finer print near the edge of the box. “Plug in and enjoy, that’s all it says.”

Dallas choked back a snort at the instructions, eyebrows lifting in both amusement and intrigue as he pulled down his street. It was only four in the afternoon, so Buck’s bar would surely have quite a few people in attendance. It’d never stopped you two before and Buck sure as hell never complained, not that he had any right to, you and Dallas had heard your fair share of Buck’s lady friends he kept well into three in the morning.

The air felt charged around you as Dallas pulled into the half-filled parking lot, his eyes flickering over to you with every chance he could grab. You couldn’t ignore the budding arousal and excitement settling heavy in your stomach, each step toward the bar leaving your legs feeling weak beneath you. Your heart thudded in your chest, hard enough to be felt in your throat as Dallas’s hand pressed against the small of your back, gently guiding you through the bar and toward the back steps.

Neither of you stopped to greet anyone, but luckily for you both everyone was either inebriated or caught up in a game of pool or poker. By the time you reached Dallas’s room, your underwear were slick to your cunt, soaked in your arousal. You kicked your shoes off, tossing the paper bag onto his bed as Dallas closed the door behind you.

“Nervous?” He asked, noticing your jittery behavior as he moved behind you. You huffed, trying to hide your feelings but failing miserably. Dallas only hummed, brushing your hair back from your neck, leaning down a fraction to press delicate kisses along the curve of your throat.

You brought your hand up and behind you, threading your fingers through his thick hair as he kissed and nipped at your neck, his hands working on unbuttoning your jeans. You let your head fall back against his shoulder, giving him full access to your throat as he pushed your jeans down your thighs. You did the rest, kicking the denim to the floor along with your soaked underwear.

“Get on the bed,” he ordered, pulling away only to pull your shirt up and over your head, leaving you completely nude while he remained dressed.

You obeyed, hurrying over to his bed as fast as your feet would carry you. The bag sat toward the end of the bed, soon lifted and opened by Dallas who tossed the bag over his shoulder, attention focused solely on the semi-heavy box in his hands. You crossed your legs, shifting your hips in anticipation as he took out the body wand.

You’d been right in the car, there were no other needed instructions besides plugging it in. Dallas gave you a brief smile, moving beside the bed to plug the body wand into the wall outlet. The cord connecting the wand to the outlet was relatively long, long enough for you to use it comfortably on the bed - or for Dallas to use it on you.

He situated himself behind you, helping you to lean back against his chest. His warmth radiated through his clothing, calming you immensely as you settled back against him. The coolness of the body wand startled you as Dallas rested it against your thigh. He didn’t seem intent on using it on you just then.

His hands brushed over your body, fingertips trailing over your stomach, down your hips, and onto your thighs. Each touch was followed by a shiver on your part, your arousal thick enough to leave you shaking, desperate for some form of attention to your eager cunt.

Sensing your desperation, his right hand dipped between your thighs, touch featherlight against your soaked folds. Your hips bucked, a mumbled plea for more leaving you as he grazed his index finger over your clit.

Your plea was not met with mercy, instead, Dallas pulled his hand back, his touch drifting upward to your breasts. His lips met the nape of your neck, kisses slow and methodical as he kneaded your breasts, brushing his thumbs over your hardened nipples.

“You can wait,” he whispered.

You weren’t sure you could, your cunt clenched around nothing and dripped cum onto the bedspread beneath you. A heavy pang of need throbbed between your thighs, clit aching with each leisurely touch of his hands, focusing everywhere except where you needed him most.

Just when you thought you’d sob from the torment, his right hand moved back between your thighs, finding your cunt drenched in your juices. You could feel him smile against the nape of your neck, a breathy laugh leaving him as he circled your clit.

The soft pads of his fingers against your clit moved in slow, deliberate circles. His lips were hot, leaving lingering kisses along your throat as your head lulled back against his shoulder, giving yourself over to the ecstasy he gave freely. His free hand continued gently kneading the soft flesh of your breast in tandem with his fingers. His thumb and forefinger gently tweaked your nipple, the other hand busying itself swirling around your clit. Your hips bucked up into his touch, desperate for some form of release as his fingers glistened with your arousal. Instead of relief, he gave you cruelty, removing his fingers from your aching cunt with a click of his tongue against his teeth.

“So desperate,” He cooed, tone ever so condescending. The cruel words went straight to your cunt, leaving you clenching around nothing as he watched on in lust-riddled amazement. Your back arched from his chest, unable to do anything further with the position he’d put you in. Laughter rumbled in his chest, the noise making you pout as your eyes batted open to look at him. He feigned a pout, bringing his hand up to cup your chin with a soft, “Poor thing.”

Only when you felt tears lining your vision did he relent, resuming the same featherlight touches against your throbbing clit. It felt perfect, almost enough to bring you to the brink of an orgasm – but nowhere near enough to push you over the edge. A desperate whine fell from your lips, eyes squeezing shut as you begged yourself not to cry over being fingered – it felt stupid, but in your orgasm-deprived mind you were certain you’d go insane if he didn’t let you cum.

With a kiss against your shoulder, he curled his middle and ring finger into you, fingers meeting no resistance as he pushed them up against a spot within you that had your knees bending, thighs clenching together in a silent plea for him to never remove his fingers from your cunt. You could feel him smile against your skin, his thumb brushing against your clit as he slowly pumped his fingers into you, the lewd sound of your cum coating his fingers echoing throughout the room. He could feel you holding back, the way your eyebrows would scrunch together, how your breath caught in your throat, all for a soft, nearly inaudible whine to fall past your parted lips.

“Let them hear you,” he urged, tone nearly pleading. “Let them hear how good I make you feel.”

Dallas wasn’t one to beg, yet the way he spoke conveyed the desperation he poorly concealed underneath his reserved facade. You could only nod as his tempo increased, fingers slicking in and out of your cunt at a pace that left you delirious. Your head rolled back against his shoulder, eyes fluttering shut as moans fell from you, pleas for him to go faster, harder – neither you were sure you wanted, but you needed him and everything he could give you.

He obliged.

“That’s it,” he whispered against the shell of your ear, placing a chaste kiss on your temple as he pumped his fingers into you. “Can feel you clenching around my fingers, doll.”

His crude words pulled another moan from you, one that caught in your throat as your hips rocked with the thrust of his fingers. His other arm hooked around your waist, keeping you pulled back against him as his hand worked between your legs, expertly bringing you to the cusp of your orgasm. Your thighs began to shake, calves tensing as he pushed his fingers deeper into you, the heel of his palm bumping rhythmically into your clit. Your arm moved up to encircle the back of his neck as you buried your face into his throat, moans and whimpers of his name tumbling past your lips like a broken prayer. Before you could register the feeling, you were coming undone around his fingers, cunt pulsing around the thick digits as your voice broke off into a silent scream. You could feel your cum coating his fingers, gushing out of you and onto the bedsheets below. He whispered words of praise, still fucking his fingers into you throughout the throes of your orgasm, not bothering to slow down an inch until your thighs were twitching against the soaked bedsheets.

Your cunt twitched with oversensitivity as he removed his fingers, bringing the wet digits up to your lips. You took them without objection, breath labored as you sucked them clean. He groaned at the feeling, your tongue laving the underside of his fingers as you stared up at him, expression the picture of fucked out.

He slowly lowered his hand from your face, your lips glistening with saliva and cum. He couldn’t help but lean in, capturing you in a wet kiss as his hips rocked against your ass. The subtle friction pulled a grunt from him, his brows furrowing as his hold around your middle tightened. He could taste you on his tongue as he pulled away.

“Lean forward,” he instructed, words barely audible over his heaving breaths. You obeyed, looking over your shoulder toward him as you bent over a nearby pillow, your hips comfortably resting against the fabric. He moved from behind you, sorting through the bedsheets, cursing under his breath until he found what he’d been looking for. You watched; curiosity peaked as he moved to sit down beside you. He smiled at you, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead with a hushed, “Can’t let my money go to waste.”

His hand guided your hip up, nestling the head of the vibrator against your cunt, just above your clit. With a kiss on your shoulder, he helped you settle back down against the pillow, pushing the vibrator flush with your skin. The metallic clang of his belt buckle hitting the floor and the subtle sound of his zipper being undone followed. You arched your back, face pushed to the soft bedding beneath you. He hummed at the sight, right hand grasping your hip tight as the other trailed the back of his fingers along your folds, the touch causing your hips to quiver.

His arm looped around your middle, hand fumbling with the base of the wand until it buzzed to life, the sudden vibration pulling a yelp from you as your hips jerked away from the sensation. You’d thought you were no longer sensitive from your previous orgasm, but the vibrator pulled that confidence right out from under you. Dallas only stifled a laugh, his hand moving to the small of your back where he pressed down, forcing you flush with the vibrator. A broken moan fell from your lips as your hands grasped at the tangled bedsheets, knuckles white as the large silicone head of the vibrator shuddered against your clit.

“You’re alright,” Dallas taunted, right hand still steady on your hip as he pumped himself with his left, thumb swiping over his tip. You could hardly focus on the lascivious moans coming from Dallas due to the intense vibration of the body wand. He pushed your legs farther apart with his knee, shifting himself behind you until his thighs were flush with the plush of your ass. He swiped his tip along your folds, gathering your slick cum against himself before stroking it down his shaft.

Your cunt twitched, clenching around nothing in anticipation as he slowly pushed himself into you, easing in each inch. The moan that came from you once he’d bottomed out was near pornographic, with pure relief and ecstasy flooding your veins before he’d even had the chance to rock his hips. You pushed back into him, the movement earning you a groan as he grabbed at your hips, stopping you from moving any further.

“Wait,” he ordered, tone strained. You’d half a mind to disregard his words, but the steady pulse of his cock inside of you rendered you obedient, mindlessly whining into the warm bedsheets as you waited for him to move. Only when your breathing settled did he pull out, slowly pushing himself back in after – repeating those movements until your hips were rutting into the vibrator beneath you.

You could feel your cunt stretching around his cock, desperately trying to accommodate his addictive size as he pushed into you, each thrust being paired with a choked-back grunt from Dallas. His fingers dug into your skin as he quickened his pace, the sound of skin meeting skin echoing throughout his bedroom. His hold on your hips grew tighter with each thrust, effectively keeping you cemented to the bed and the vibrator beneath you.

The tip of his cock pushed against your cervix, leaving you clenching around him whenever he’d pull out, your cum leaving a veneer against his shaft, steadily dripping down his body and onto the bedsheets below. The vibration of the body wand thrummed against your clit, your hands tightening their grasp on the bedsheets as you felt your orgasm building in your lower stomach. Each thrust of his hips left you breathless, the position causing him to hit impossibly deep inside of you.

He could feel you clenching around him, the sound of your moans picking up an octave, your hips involuntarily rutting back to meet his thrusts. His hands moved from your hips to the small of your back, pushing you flush with the pillow and vibrator beneath you as he slammed into you. The pace was brutal, small whines forced from your lungs as he stretched you again and again – hitting that same spot within you that sprung pleasure-fueled tears to your eyes. You were left sobbing into the bedding, hands moving behind you to grasp aimlessly at his body as you came undone around his cock.

“Fuck yes,” he grunted, not slowing his pace in the slightest as you gushed around his cock, soaking the bedsheets along with the pillow beneath you. Your eyes squeezed shut as he fucked you through your orgasm, the pleasure soon giving way to mind-numbing oversensitivity. A low laugh reverberated within his chest at your fucked-out state, his hand moved to cup your jaw as he rutted into you with a groaned, “You take me so good, so fucking good.”

All you could manage was a broken-off moan of his name at the words, cunt squeezing around him. He buried his face into your shoulder, choking back moans of his own as he pumped you full of his cum. You let your head fall forward into the bedding, heavy pants muffled by the sheets, hips lifting yourself away from the persistent vibration of the body wand below you. As if reading your mind, his arm hooked around your stomach, shutting off the body wand a second later before pushing it to the floor. He rested back down against you, pressing gentle kisses to your shoulders and along the nape of your neck, only pulling out when his cock had finally stopped twitching inside of your cunt.

“Did so good,” he whispered, hand smoothing up the curve of your back as he rested back on his knees. “So good, doll.”

You hummed, the best response you could manage in your current state. He chuckled, swatting your ass before moving from the bed. You didn’t bother watching where he went, knowing him well enough to know he’d disappeared into the bathroom. Only a moment had passed before you felt the bed dip beside you, followed by the coolness of a wet washcloth against you as he cleaned you up. Once he’d cleaned himself, he hooked an arm around your middle, pulling your back flush to his chest, his free hand moving up to wipe your damp hair from your face.

“You alright?” He asked, words so quiet you’d hardly heard him. You tilted your head back, meeting his gaze with a tired smile and nod. He returned your smile, pressing a kiss to your temple as you resituated yourself against him.

“Definitely worth it.”

A/N: I had to research 70s sex toys for this. Because if Dallas didn’t have the whole gunshot ordeal he would’ve lived to see the 70s and the rise of sexual liberation - and by golly gee were there a LOT of sex toys. Anyways, I hope you guys liked this one! I don’t write rough smut too often so I hope I did this one good. I appreciate all the love and support you guys show my work, more than you know! You can find all my work over on my AO3 under the user, “Unscriptural.” Thank you again!

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deathbecomesthem · 16 days

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Kiss the Cook 4 | 2.3K

linecook!Eddie Munson x server!reader

Summary: It's just you and Eddie working on a lazy Wednesday morning. Until an unexpected guest throws a wrench in the gears.

A/N: This might seem a little out of place in this current series, but it's an older piece I wrote many moons ago. Based on a mostly true Thanatos server experience.

As usual, you leave the cream colored coffee mug at the prep station next to the fruit cup that Eddie’s prepared for you. His back is still turned, he’s throwing down a case of bacon to fry off before opening. This time of the day, his clothes are clean and fresh and his hair is still damp from his morning shower. His hair is pulled up in a bun that sits a little higher than normal, and it gives you a good view of the fine hairs at the back of his neck. Little soft curls that cling to his skin just above the place where his shoulders work underneath his crisp white shirt.

The tattoo there has always been something that you’ve noticed, but you’ve never gotten the chance to really see it until now. It’s a sword, the hilt of which can barely be seen through the curls that rest at the nape of his long neck. The blade looks sharp enough to cut, and it reaches straight down his spine. You wonder about it, and hope there’s a day when you’ll get to see the tip of that blade, wherever it may be.

You’re thinking about reaching out to touch his neck. - let your fingertips feel the skin and hair - when he turns away from the grill and the meat that’s already begun to spit. He seems totally unaware of your gaze, even now with his profile in full view. You could already be sitting on the curb out back puffing through your pre-opening cigarette, but this is a rare thing getting to study him so intensely in a quiet moment.

“You gonna stand there and stare all morning, or do you wanna go smoke before this place turns into a zoo?” You can feel heat in your face immediately, and hope he doesn’t turn to look at how you’re reacting to his teasing. You were caught, but also, he was letting you look. Your stomach does a flip at the thought of it, and you wonder how long he’s known that you’ve been taking all of the sly glances you can.

“I was just waiting for you,” you spin on your heels and head towards the back door before Eddie can look at you, “whenever you’re done screwing around with your meat, I’ll be out here.” Eddie’s low giggle follows you through the back door. The 90 seconds between when you sit on the concrete and when Eddie opens the back door to join you is enough time to consider that he was flirting with you. Openly. That’s new. You think it’s new, anyway. Maybe you’ve just been missing it.

It’s with a heavy sigh that Eddie sits down next to you on the low to the ground curb, his long legs extended so his knees don’t sit up high under his chin. He’s long, like a stretched out cat dressed in his still clean black denim and cotton shirt. He’s close enough for you to smell the soap that still clings to his skin from his morning shower, and the deodorant he must have put on directly after.

“So. I’ve been thinking about something.” Eddie’s fumbling hands are reaching around in his apron pocket while a Camel dangles from his lips. You extend your green Bic, flame lit, to his cigarette. Eddie smiles around the paper filter, his eyes flick from you to the end of his cigarette where the cherry burns to life. “Thank you,” he whispers on an exhale, his full focus back to you.

“What have you been thinking about Eddie?” You push your shoulder against his. As always, it’s a way to connect your bodies in a mundane and friendly way. You think it might be your imagination, but you could swear you can feel his body heat through his and your own layer of clothing. He’s gotten shy now, eyes focused on the asphalt parking lot in front of him. His long fingers are twirling the lit cigarette around while you wait for his answer.

“Well,” the word comes out in a higher pitch than normal, he clears his throat, “well, I was thinking maybe we could go out sometimes. Just you and me, like uh -” he brings his eyes back to yours, gauging your reaction, “- I’m sorry, I’m shit at this. It’s ok if you say no, I don’t want it to be weird at work or anything.”

“I don’t know how anything could be weird when you haven’t actually said anything outside of wanting to go out. Sure, Ed, we can go out. We’re friends aren’t we?” You can’t hold back the snicker that laces your words. Eddie’s so cute, his cheeks are pink and his eyes are pleading. He looks like a boy instead of the 26 year old man that he is, and he’s begging you for mercy.

“You’re torturing me on purpose, and it’s not nice.” No, it’s not nice, but it’s having its intended effect. Eddie wants to take you on a date, and you can’t care that the words are too hard for him to say when his face is so close to your own. When his lips, oh he can definitely see that you’re looking at them, are so pretty. He’s close enough that you can see the stubble across his top lip. Fresh shave this morning, but the light of the sunrise is starting to make the tiny hairs sparkle.

“I’m sorry, Ed,” both of your cigarettes are burned to the filter, and you know it’s at least a couple of minutes past opening time. You can’t find it in yourself to care. You have a wild thought about asking him to flick work with you. To go for a long walk and hold hands. Your thoughts get wilder when you notice his eyes flick down to your mouth as if in question. Unconsciously doing the same thing your own eyes have been doing to Eddie’s lips. Are we going to kiss out here on this curb while the sun is still hiding behind the trees?

Your thought is answered and the moment is broken. The sound of a familiar voice mumbling a curse accompanied by a fist loudly knocking against glass. A quick glance at your watch tells you it’s 3 minutes past opening, and Jimmy is right on time as always. The retiree that sits at the corner of the counter for the first hour of the diner’s business, and has been doing so since the week of the grand opening 15 years ago, is ready for his morning’s coffee.

“Sorry, Jimmy, I’ll be up front in 30 seconds!” You shout around the corner of the building from your spot on the curb, neck craned in the direction of Jimmy’s grumbling before slapping your knees and standing up. You look down at Eddie and find that his gaze has returned to the tree line beyond the parking lot. He lets out a chuckle and pulls out another cigarette while you pat the top of his head in goodbye. By the time you get Jimmy's coffee and cruller, Eddie will be inside to fry up his eggs. You wonder, as you step back in through the metal door, whether the words between you and he will mean anything, or will be forgotten as the day moves forward.

–

You’re perched on a barstool at the counter, Jimmy is the only company you have when it happens. Eddie’s smoke break took longer than was reasonable, and you stepped out of your assigned role to make two sloppily fried over medium eggs for the old guy. You didn’t mind, you assumed this was just one of those mornings. Sometimes, Eddie is pensive. You only wished there was a way to relieve him of his duties for the day so he could get a real break.

The sound of the back door opening draws your attention towards the kitchen while your hands mindlessly pull out a knife, fork, and spoon to roll into the paper napkin in front of you. Immediately you realize something is wrong, because the familiar sounds of Eddie stomping are replaced with a choked off scream and - possibly the sound of a scuffle of some kind.

“What the hell -” before Jimmy can’t get out his thought, he too recognized that something was wrong in the small hallway that holds the back door and bathrooms, Eddie’s high pitched yelling freezes you in your spot. A split second later, your fear has you on your feet and sprinting towards the cacophony.

“Motherfucking son of a bitch!” Eddie hollers before throwing open the swinging kitchen door, narrowly missing your face. A small red blur passes in front of you before you catch sight of Eddie. He is standing in front of the men’s room door with his shirt pulled half over his head and his apron tangled in his arms. Your brain cannot make sense of the sounds and sights you’ve just experienced, and then you hear the voice of another man shouting at the opposite end of the restaurant.

“Christ Almighty!” Jimmy sounds less frantic than Eddie did a moment ago, but no less surprised. Your feet are moving again, letting the swinging door close on the disheveled line cook. Your mind is working to make sense of things when you round the corner to enter the dining room and find your foot skidding against something slick. A quick look down tells you it’s - what the fuck - bird shit.

There’s a bird loose in the restaurant. A bird. And the two men here are screaming messes.

You head back to the dining room and grab a broom before you make your way into the dining room to save an old man from the bird menace. The crashing of silverware tells you that things are not chill, and you’re ready for it. You think you’re ready for it until a flash of red feathers swoops down at your head as you remember to step over the spot of shit left on the linoleum.

“What the fuck.” Your attempt to bat the bird away from your head with the broom, it’s a cardinal - you can see it clearly now, results in you breaking a bulb in one of the hanging lamps that are throughout the dining room. Glass rains down on your shoulders, and you have at least enough sense to shake it off rather than use your fingers to brush at it. “Can birds have rabies?”

“No!” Jimmy answers your rhetorical question from the opposite end of the dining room. You see that his coffee mug and plate of eggs are spilled on the floor next to his abandoned barstool, “but this one is fucking possessed! I flew right at my head like it was out for blood!”

–

The battle of the bird vs. Eddie Munson lasted 2 hours. Casualties included one lightbulb, a glass coffee urn, a set of salt and pepper shakers, a ceramic coffee mug, a tray of donuts (bird shit), and the ceramic plate that held Jimmy’s poorly made over medium eggs. You and Eddie tried and failed to catch the terrified creature dozens of times before opening both the front and back doors and returning to the spot at the curb where Eddie almost managed to ask you out on a date before the chaos began. It took less an 5 minutes for Mr. Cardinal to find the exit, swooping down at Eddie’s head as a final “fuck you”.

“What did I do to deserve that bird’s rage?” Eddie’s hair is a mess, and you can’t help but wonder if he had managed to do something that has resulted in this avian vendetta. “I say we clean up and call this day a loss. Charlie can kiss my ass if he has a problem with it.”

“Charlie won’t care. We already lost breakfast to a bird.” Your words came out with a giggle. Eddie caught the itch of laughter. The post bird drama hysterics had you both hunched over in gasping laughter until the thought of your lost wages made your smile fade. “I’m gonna make Charlie pay me kitchen wages for today.”

Eddie hummed in agreement with the sentiment. You certainly deserve it, especially considering what it will take to get the bird shit out of your non-slip footwear’s sole. When you go to stand, finally deciding it was time to clean and get as far away from the war zone as possible, you’re stopped by a soft grasp of Eddie’s calloused hand on your forearm. You look at him and find his gaze firmly on yours, and not looking out past the tree line.

“How about we clean up and go out to lunch somewhere? My treat?” A battle well fought has given Eddie the nerve to ask the question he’s been wanting to ask for months. Even now, when he knows your answer, butterflies’ wings beat in his chest as the silence after his question is asked fills the air.

“Ok. But only if we can get some ice cream after.”

#eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #linecook!eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson series #eddie munson au #eddie stranger things #eddie munson imagines

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gretagerwigsmuse · 3 months

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rocketman: part ii - from the back of the cab

Summary: in which lieutenant commander bradshaw finally returns stateside for just about the best damn homecoming he's ever had. it's been three months of countless emails and facetime calls between the two of you, but what awaits you both now that bradley's back? and what does it mean for your relationship going forward? [read part i here]

OR a homecoming 159 emails in the making

Pairing: Rooster x Fem!Reader 10k

Warnings: 18+, explicit language, suggestive dialogue, and suggestive content. a lot of the italic words are direct references to the emails in part i or direct quotes from the rocket man by ray bradbury (read at your own risk because if you picture bradley as the rocket man, you'll cry). the next part will pick up right where this one leaves off and hopefully won't take too long to get out!

from the back of the cab to the airport // i am happy you and i got this hour

Having multiple people, let alone multiple people who loved him more than anything in the world, waiting for him when he got home from a deployment, no matter how brief or long, was definitely a newer experience for Bradley. There was almost a giddiness about him as he said his goodbyes to Bob and Payback and the other pilots he’d flown with from Lemoore. He couldn’t wait to see you in twenty seconds after it’d felt like he’d been gone for twenty years.

The countless (actually one-hundred and fifty-nine - he’d counted) emails between the two of you had been his saving grace these last three months. You’d emailed him almost every day, sometimes multiple times a day, much to the jealousy of his colleagues. He’d become addicted to them almost.

How did your cooking class go? What was your day like at work? Yes, he would love to go on a trip to Mexico. No, your mom is an absolute idiot. How did you touch yourself at night? Were you being a good girl for him?

And in twenty seconds he’d have the real thing. He’d have you in his arms, hugging him, kissing him, talking a mile a minute about any and everything under the sun.

(He knew Maverick would be there, too. He wasn’t being flippant about it or anything - all Bradley had wanted for the last thirteen years was for Maverick to be there when he got home. Last year, when he’d gotten back from three months out near Guam, he’d unabashedly cried from behind his sunglasses when he saw Maverick, Penny, and Amelia waiting for him. Amelia had even made a sign for him with terrible puns and lots of glitter. They’d had Bradley over for dinner - a family dinner - and he had felt on top of the world. Until he’d had to go back to his brand-new, empty house. Bitter with the sweet, he supposed.)

Off to his right, Bradley could see Bob and Callie hugging, and Reuben fussing over his wife’s noticeable baby bump. He smiled at the sight and the thought that he wouldn’t want to leave you while you were pregnant briefly floated through his mind.

And then, like he had conjured you up, there you were. You hadn’t seen him yet. But Bradley could see you as you craned your neck and stretched on your tiptoes, bobbing and weaving and stretching to try and find him in the crush.

He'd known you were taking a half day to pick him up and you looked so soft and lovely in your off-duty clothes - a simple pair of cropped jeans and a pale blue oxford that he'd later realize was his. Pale blue in a sea of khaki with your sunglasses perched on the top of your head as the sun still beamed strongly onto the asphalt.

Like something out of a movie, you turned your head and locked eyes with him. The two of you couldn't have been more than thirty feet apart and it was like everyone and everything around you had stopped - just for a moment. A blip in time. And then a smile crept across your face and your eyes lit up and the world started again.

“Bradley!”

With nary a glance back at Maverick, who Bradley had just realized was standing next to you, you ran towards Bradley and into his arms with so much force that he staggered backwards. His seabag made a solid thud on the ground as he wrapped his arms around you - one around your waist and another around the back of your neck. You burrowed your face in his neck and he couldn't resist holding you tighter, lifting you slightly so that the tips of your shoes kissed the asphalt.

This - this is what he had been missing for the last three months. Home. Home. Home. Bradley was home. With you. And holding you.

"Hey, kid." You tightened your hold on him at the moniker. "You miss me?"

“More than anything.” Not even a second after he put you down, your hands were running across his cheeks and neck. "Are you alright? Do you need anything? I have snacks in the car if you're hungry or -"

He cut you off with a kiss, your first kiss in three months. Thirteen weeks. Ninety-one days. Two thousand one hundred ninety-one hours.

Bradley knew he would have a lot more of these homecomings - had even had some with you already. But he would never forget this one - his favorite homecoming. Two weeks, ten days, three days; it was nothing. Nothing compared to being in your arms again after three months apart. Nothing compared to kissing you again after three months.

There was so much genuine love and longing in you - in him - that Bradley already dreaded when he’d leave you again. Because there would always be another time.

At least until he broke the cycle.

(Don’t ever be a rocket man. Promise me you won’t be like me.)

But for now you were safe in his arms, feeling and smelling and sounding like home and god - for now that was enough.

Your voice was similarly muffled. “Oh, bubs. I missed you so much. I can’t believe you’re finally home.”

“And I can’t believe you’re in front of me right now.”

He wanted to touch you everywhere. Your cheeks, your hair, your shoulders, your legs, your breasts. Everywhere. There was no way he could ever get enough of you.

You tilted your head up and smiled at him. “I love you.”

“Love you, too. Let’s go home.” The smile that lit up your face could guide Bradley home on even his darkest days.

Before setting off, he gave you another kiss, this one just as sweet, and the two of you started making your way to the gate and by the other families milling around. It was a bit awkward balancing his arm around your shoulder with his seabag, but it was all worth it to have you tucked into his side again. You were so soft and warm and smelled so pretty. He couldn’t get over it. Everything about you felt safe and precious.

“I can’t wait for you to see the house! I have almost everything situated, just a couple seasonal clothes and coats at my old place. I thought maybe we could go after work on Tuesday - unless you’re in a debrief or something or have other plans?”

Bradley squeezed you closer to his side. “Nah, I should be done by Monday afternoon, so Tuesday’s perfect.”

You nuzzled your face against his chest. “I can’t believe you’re home.” And then softer still, “I’m gonna keep saying it because it still doesn’t feel real.”

“Well,” Bradley steered you both away from the crush, “I’ll try my hardest to make it feel real for you later.”

And, God, it went straight to his cock, the way you peered up at him, eyes slightly widened. You even bit your lip, cheeky thing. His seabag slipped from his grasp and he wound both arms around your waist pulling you close to him again. All he wanted to do was play out one of those cheeky little emails of ours in excruciating detail. With his girl.

His wonderful girl. His sweet girl. His smart girl. His, his, his, his -

It was definitely verging on improper, the way he was kissing you now. But Bradley didn’t care. Not when you felt and smelled and tasted so fucking good -

“- Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw!”

You whined against Bradley’s lips when he pulled away. It felt like he’d just gotten caught necking his girlfriend behind the bleachers by his father - and well…

Bradley cleared his throat and hoped his cheeks weren’t too red. “Captain Mitchell…”

They exchanged salutes, Maverick’s face all serious until Bradley could see him fighting a smile. There was a beat and then Bradley wrapped his arms around Mav in a tight hug.

“Good to see you, kiddo.”

“You too, Mav.”

He let Bradley go to look him over much like you had. It warmed his heart to be fussed over by his dad. To have the two most important people in his life be there to pick him up and bring him home.

“Come on you two, ice cream? My treat?”

You gasped. “Now Captain Mitchell, you wouldn’t be suggesting we spoil Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw’s dinner with ice cream, would you?”

Bradley hadn’t had ice cream in weeks. And a vanilla soft serve with chocolate jimmies sounded like absolute heaven right now. But as much as he wanted to have ice cream with you and Maverick like he was celebrating a little league baseball win, Bradley wanted to go home with you even more. He would see Mav during the week while you were at the office.

Right now, he just wanted to go home with his girl.

“Nah, I think we’re gonna head home. But I’ll take a raincheck for Monday?”

Mav nodded. “Sounds good to me, I’ll bring the car round then?”

“Sounds good, thanks!” you chirped.

Wait, what? Before Bradley could even question him, Maverick was off towards the parking lot - leaving you in his direct line of fire.

Which, to be fair, you did look contrite. “Pete thought it would be easier if he drove, especially with all the people around…”

And was Bradley really going to be mad at Maverick for caring too much? For wanting to spend time with his kid after he got home from a three month deployment? No. Not even at the expense of a twenty minute car ride home alone with you.

“I should’ve told you earlier he was driving, sorry.”

“No, no, it’s fine.” You both started making your way to the gate again. “Probably gave him an excuse to take the rest of the afternoon off, too.”

You giggled. “I asked if he wanted to get lunch beforehand, but he said he was wrapping something up.”

Bradley’s stride momentarily faltered. Right, he forgot about that - your little lunch dates with Maverick. Was it a little annoying and did it make him irrationally jealous? Sure. But it was also oddly sweet. There were a lot worse things than having your girlfriend genuinely like hanging out with your dad. Plus, Bradley’s didn’t think you really knew you had a crush on him.

“I’m sure you two had plenty of time to catch up while I was gone, but now you’re all mine, kid.”

You wrapped your hands around his upper arm and gave it a squeeze. With a few nods at his fellow aviators and other assorted crew members, you two made it through the gate and to the parking lot where Maverick was waiting in his 1962 Ferrari 250 GTE.

Otherwise known both as the smallest car in the world and Bradley’s inheritance.

The car was in really good shape and drove like a dream. But it was very much not designed for a 6’1” naval aviator - especially when one was relegated to the back seat. Because Bradley didn’t want you to be in the back seat alone and you had refused to sit in the front.

So, now his knees were up to his shoulders and you two were separated by an armrest because the damn Italians hated fun and had foregone a bench seat.

Though this did not stop you from laying a cheeky hand on his knee, inching it higher and higher up his thigh as you crossed the Coronado Bridge. You glanced over at Bradley and winked, stopping yourself from getting higher by holding his hand instead.

It was never a long drive back to his - your house, but today it seemed to fly by ever faster. Maverick was unusually chatty in the front seat, asking about your upcoming trip and if you needed a ride to the airport on Thursday morning, while also telling Bradley about the newly renovated ready room on base.

The chatter petered off into the background as Bradley suddenly zeroed in on the song playing on the radio - Everlasting Love. He found himself mouthing the lyrics.

Need you by my side, girl you’ll be my bride

You’ll never be denied everlasting love

That was you. That was you and him. Everlasting love.

He squeezed your hand and brought it to his lips for a kiss. And while you and Maverick chatted and told Bradley some of the more lighter happenings of the last three months - mainly the raccoon garage saga - he was counting down the minutes till it was just you and him. Peace and quiet with his everlasting love.

Which was really everything he could ever want.

------------------

After a long shower with all his favorite products and even some new ones you had brought over, Bradley made his way downstairs and was greeted with the unfairly adorable sight of you chopping potatoes at the kitchen island. There was music playing, candles lit, and the smell of something delicious coming from the kitchen. He smiled, seeing you wearing the apron he’d picked out for you all those months ago and was relieved to see that it looked broken in from wear. Because, to be honest, it was nearly impossible to pick out clothes for you.

Originally, Bradley had wanted to get you some frilly old thing, dainty and cute and proper if only to feed some long repressed kink of his. But the denim apron was practical and you would get use out of it for plenty more years to come.

And he could always get you another one for special occasions. Because he had had a lot of time to think about all those special occasions with you while he was away…

A beautiful smile lit up your face as you saw him pad down the stairs. “My, my, don't you look cozy?”

Once his socked-feet were firmly on the hardwood floor, Bradley spun on his heels showing off his comfy joggers and plain, grey t-shirt. “Do I pass muster?” He pressed a kiss to the cheek you tilted up for him.

“I’ll think you’ll do, bubs.” He pulled you in for a hug from behind. “Mmmmm, you smell so good.”

He swayed you back and forth in his arms. “I should, I used all your shampoo…”

“Cheeky boy.” You craned your neck and pressed a quick kiss to his lips. “You want a drink while I make dinner? You can lay on the couch for a bit if you want? You must be exhausted.”

“Oh?” He hadn’t even considered going into the living room, not when you were in the kitchen. “Uhhh, sure, yeah. I’ll take a drink.”

You smiled and pulled back from him. “Old fashioned?” He nodded. You got out a rocks glass from the cabinet and went over to the bar cart in the dining room for the whiskey and bitters. “I got those fancy bitters at that liquor store you like.”

“Did you take care of everything?” He said it to hide his own reddened cheeks, but you appeared equally as bashful.

“Tried too.”

“You gonna have one, too?”

You nodded. “Yeah, but we’re also having wine with dinner, so just one for now - here you go. Got to start you off slow, Bradshaw.” You slid the glass over to him and held your own out to toast. “To your long awaited homecoming.”

Your eyes locked over the rim of your glasses and you had both barely set them back down on the table before Bradley pressed a kiss to your lips. You tasted like sugar and whiskey and felt like home.

“Missed you, kid.”

“Missed you, too, rocketman. You have no idea how happy I am that you’re home.” You kissed him again. “Now, you gotta let me finish cooking. The table’s already set, so there’s nothing for you to do, but relax.”

“Fine, fine,” he heaved out a great sigh, “banishing me already and I’ve only been home for a few hours, I see how it is - owww!” You smacked his ass with a dishtowel. “Alright, I’m going, I’m going.”

The living room looked nearly identical to how it had when Bradley had left in December - minus the Christmas tree, of course - but there were still little touches of you everywhere. The pillows were arranged far nicer than Bradley had ever been able to manage and there were three new candles of differing heights on the coffee table. Plus, the cream colored cashmere blanket from your apartment that he always stole was artfully strewn across the back of one of the leather sofas.

With one glance back towards you in the kitchen - you were completely focused on some Russet potatoes - Bradley flopped onto the couch and tucked himself under the blanket. It was warm and cozy and so comfortable under there in his couch clothes in the house you two shared. Quiet, too, even with some Van Morrison playing from the kitchen. It was the kind of quiet that could lull Bradley to a peaceful sleep, especially after having been ensconced in constant noise for the last three months.

And he tried for half an hour - he really did. He thought of how excited you were to show him the perfectly organized closet and how you’d put all the little bits and bobs you’d gotten for him over the last three months in the guest room for him to look over at his leisure and how he’d corrected you on where the mail should go.

It was just - it was too quiet and too perfect and too comfy and he just wanted to be with you. Even if it meant sitting on one of the uncomfortable kitchen barstools.

You shook your head, but smiled as he approached. “You don’t have to watch me, you must be exhausted?”

Bradley shrugged. ��Just wanna be near you, kid.” Were you nervous about cooking? Was that why you didn’t want him in the kitchen with you? He backtracked. “If that’s alright?”

You bit your lip and gestured for Bradley to sit at the island in front of you. There were a couple mise en place bowls laying around, but you quickly made room for Bradley and his drink.

“It’s like a taping of the Barefoot Contessa.”

You chuckled. “Let’s just hope the food’s as good as Ina’s.”

“Walk me through it.”

With a teasing smile on your face, you went back to mincing the garlic - with a glowing comment from Bradley on your newly acquired knife skills - and he just sat there, chin propped up on his hand watching you explain the next couple steps. You even got a yes, chef out of him when you asked him to turn the music down. The roasted potatoes smelled absolutely divine cooking in the oven and you had just finished snipping the ends off the asparagus when your demeanor suddenly changed. You fiddled with your apron tie and abruptly turned around to face him, looking almost surprised by the action, though you wouldn’t exactly look him in the eye.

“Actually, now that you’re here - or here at the table,” you huffed out a laugh, “there’s something I want to talk to you about that happened while you were gone - no, that’s not - something I was thinking about while you were gone?”

You put the burner down on the sauce pan, leaving the minced garlic to simmer before you were facing Bradley yet again. You looked nervous, unsure of yourself, as you played with the bracelet he had gotten you for Christmas. Had something happened while he was gone that you hadn’t told him about? Were you sick? Hurt? Was there someone - no, no, you’d never.

Bradley leaned back in his chair and hoped he sounded surer than he felt. “Sure, uhh, yeah, go ahead.”

“It actually has to do with some emails I sent you - last week, in particular. One of them is actually that email.” You looked down at the granite countertop as Bradley tried to think of which email would constitute italics. “But I also want to talk about one of the other emails, when I messaged you about that dream I had and kind of how that all falls into everything that we’ve been going through and probably will be going through -”

“- Because this is it,” he interrupted. Because you and I are it.

“Yeah. Because this is it,” you returned, equally as resolute. “So…”

Bradley sat up straighter in his chair and cleared his throat. “Which one do you want to talk about first?”

You fiddled with your apron bow. “Maybe the one from the thirteenth?”

“Which one was that?”

Now you definitely were avoiding looking at him. Your words came out slowly, like you dreaded saying them and Bradley had a sudden inkling that he knew exactly which email you were referencing.

“The one about me needing you. Needing you to take care of me,” you whispered the last part.

He could feel his cheeks coloring. “Oh. Right, yeah.”

Bradley had never received an email like that before. Had never even received a text like that before. It was just so raw and almost animalistic the way your need for him jumped off the page.

nothing soothes the ache inside me like you do. need you to call me good girl, pretty girl, sweet girl, anything as long as it’s yours.

“I shouldn’t have sent that one to you - especially since if I could’ve waited five more days, none of this would’ve happened. It’s just - I needed you so badly and wanted you - ugh, no! No, I shouldn’t have sent you that email. It wasn’t proper, it was embarrassing for you and me and I was just missing you so much and in such a different way that I’ve never experienced before when you’d been gone and - I couldn’t bear not telling you for another moment. Because no one was there to tell me what to do or -”

You threw your hands out and put them on the top of your head. God, it looked like you were about to cry. And it broke Bradley’s heart. He pushed his barstool back from the island and padded over towards you.

“Come ‘ere, kid.”

You let out a sigh and your eyes were swimming with tears as you fell into Bradley’s arms. You felt small in his arms - not necessarily in the physical sense, but like you were folding in on yourself. He needed to take care of you - take you, take you, take you -

“Shh, shh, it’s okay, whenever you want, it’s fine.” Bradley pressed a kiss to your forehead and squeezed you tighter. You held on to him tightly, which muffled your next words.

“I’ve never had someone who I need in that way. And it’s not even necessarily about the sex, itself. I could go months without having sex - had before I met you. It was never something I really needed to get by, I guess? I could take care of it on my own.

“But then - then I met you and you just? You make me need you - make me crave you, you tell me what to do, make me want to please you. And then you just leave for three months and I have to learn how to do all that on my own and it was just so hard? It felt like I dropped? Like everything caught up to me after all those months and weeks and I felt scared and lonely and needy and desperate for you and for you to tell me I’m a good girl and take care of me and be my d - be dominant with me.”

Your breathing quickened as you talked and Bradley felt you getting more worked up. He rubbed his hands across your back, hoping it would soothe the ache inside of you, if only a little bit. “Shh, shh, it’s okay, kid.”

i need you i need you i need you i need you bradley bradley bradley bradley

You sniffled. “I guess I just didn’t think - I mean, I knew other people would see it - and I did think that was kind of hot, especially when you called me out for it - it was only after, when I’d realized what I’d done that I saw how embarrassing it was for you.

“Like Joe from Comms being like hey, did you know Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw’s girlfriend is a horny, pathetic, subby mess for him? You gotta see it, man. She couldn’t even make it three months without getting fucked. He can’t even take care of his g -”

“- Stop it.” Bradley grabbed your chin. “You know that’s not true.”

“Maybe.” You shrugged. “But I was already feeling shitty about my mom and being so busy at work and how I loo -” you broke off and Bradley desperately wanted you to finish the thought. “I guess it all caught up to me.”

“But I wrote back. I wrote back and told you everything I wanted you to hear and what you needed to hear. And god, I’d do it again, I’d do it in a heartbeat if it brought you comfort and I probably should’ve done it sooner.”

nothing stretches me out like you do, nothing makes me feel as small as you do, nothing makes me flush like the sound of your voice against my neck as i come, nothing soothes the ache inside me like you do

You squeezed your arms around his stomach and breathed him in. God, he loved you so much, he’d say anything and do anything to make you realize that.

“I needed it, what you wrote me, and I needed to tell you what I said, but I should’ve waited so, I’m sorry, can you forgive me?”

“There’s nothing to forgive, kid. You message me when you need me, no matter how.” He kissed your temple. “I know we’ve never really talked about how that part of our relationship would work while I was gone, so maybe next time we just make a plan?”

You nodded. “I’d like that. I know it’s not like that all the time between us, so I didn’t even think of it before you left.”

“I hadn’t either,” he confessed.

Long distance d/s relationship reddit would be Bradley’s best friend over the next few days. Neither of you would have to go through that again, not if he had something to say about it. The whole idea of not being allowed to use anything besides your fingers to masturbate was a good start, but it was just that - a start. Because like you’d said, you two weren’t in that dynamic all the time, but you both needed it. It was new for both of you. You’d just have to come up with a list together.

But just to give you a little encouragement in the meantime…

“And let’s not forget…” You peered up at him. “You did tell me you read my email seven times…”

You giggled and shoved his shoulder. “Might’ve been an understatement.”

“Oh?”

“I think I came three times that first night alone.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Mmmhm.” You wrapped your arms around his neck and played with the ends of his hair. “‘Kept picturing you in your bunk writing it while fisting your cock. And then I was laying next to you in your bunk - and it had to be a secret. I had to keep quiet - just like at Thanksgiving - and not make a peep.”

“But you don’t like to be quiet…”

He crowded you against the island and rolled his hips against yours. The thin fabric of his joggers did little to hide how much he desired you, especially after the conversation you’d just had.

His subby little girlfriend. God, he couldn’t wait to take you apart bit by bit later.

Now say thank you Bradley. Good girl.

Though, that’s not to say that you couldn’t partake in a little preview now. Bradley’s lips crashed against yours, caught up in the furor and headiness of it all, and your body melted against his. Three months later and you still responded so well to him. Your breathy little sighs as he bit your lip and pressed countless kisses along your jawline and neck sounded like heaven. You smelled so sweet, tasted so sweet, felt so sweet - he kissed you again, coaxing your mouth back open.

“Bradley, bubs, I -” you gasped against his lips, “I need to turn the stove off if we’re going to -”

Without taking his lips off yours, Bradley reached behind his back and turned off the gas burner. The garlic still sizzled in the pan, but now without the risk of burning the house down. You could put fresh garlic on later, now he just wanted you.

His hands went back to their place on your hips before the left slid underneath your oxford and up your body. You stiffened slightly, but welcomed his touch, if only for a moment before you pulled back from him.

“We have to - I have to finish dinner.” He nodded, albeit reluctantly. You pecked his lips again.

There was something deeply erotic about waiting - even if it was just for a couple of hours.

Where are you going to have me first?

In our bed, in our house, after you make me dinner in our kitchen.

Bradley cleared his throat. “You said you wanted to talk about another email? The one about your dream, right? The one with our kid.”

It felt right saying it - our kid.

God, Bradley, I wish you were here right now so you could hold me and tell me you loved me because I just want to feel your arms around me and know you’re real. I want to tell you about the little boy - the perfect mix of me and you

“We can wait until dinner - or even after dinner, if you want?” You didn’t give him a chance to respond. “I’m sorry I’m dropping all this on you. I know you’ll say otherwise, but I shouldn’t have done this right when you came home - the dryer hasn’t even finished your first load yet. I know you’re exhausted and definitely have your own stuff to work through after being gone and we should be having sex on the floor or over the arm of the couch, not listening to me blubber -”

Bradley shook his head and interrupted you. He didn’t want to give you another moment to doubt yourself.

“- Hey, hey. I wanna talk about the heavy stuff with you, it’s okay. And I’d rather we do it now so we can really enjoy these next few days together - and maybe then have sex on the floor and over the arm of the couch. I don’t want this hanging over your head, kid.

“And you’re not alone in thinking about that over the last few months - it’s probably been even longer for me…”

You wiped at the tears pooling in your eyes. “Really?”

“You know you’re it for me, kid.” Have been since our fourth date went unsaid. “So, come on, walk me through it.”

You leaned against the back counter near the stove, while Bradley mirrored you against the island. You sighed.

“I love you so much - sometimes I’m scared that I love you this much and that it’s not quite been a year since we met. And I never thought I’d be so heart achingly in love with someone in the Navy, of all things, and just - sometimes it hits me that you’re not even fully mine? That a part of you will always want to be in the sky or out at sea because you have this other entity that tells you what to do? And when to do it and what to wear and how you should act? Where you’re Rooster and not my Bradley?”

Bradley frowned at the use of his callsign coming from your lips. It didn’t feel right, it didn’t sound right. He didn’t want to be Rooster around you. He liked that he didn’t have to be Rooster around you.

“And it makes me absolutely crazy because you love it and you’re not going to stop - and you shouldn’t stop, not for me! But, god, Bradley, sometimes I want to shake you and hold you down and beg you to stay. Like that fucking story.” You wiped your eyes.

“It’s all I wanted to tell you when I had that dream. About how I want you to come home so badly. I want you to stay here with me forever and never leave and to have that cute little boy who was the perfect mix of me and you and to have you here in my arms every night. And I know it’s selfish of me to ask or even make you think about it, but I want you right here. I don’t want you looking at the sky when you’re here and wanting to be up there. And I know you don’t either, Bradley. You give everything to everyone, you don’t do things by halves.”

You both stood there, Bradley stunned by your words, and you, seemingly stunned that you’d actually said them. He took a step towards you, but didn’t cross that final barrier to touch you. He remembered highlighting a particular passage from the story in his response back to you and how he never wanted you to feel the same way as Lily. He didn’t want to let it - flying, the Navy, all of it get a hold of him.

“Don’t ever be a Rocket Man.” I stopped. “I mean it,” he said. “Because when you’re out there you want to be here, and when you’re here you want to be out there. Don’t start that. Don’t let it get hold of you.” “But-“ “You don’t know what it is. Every time I’m out there I think, If I ever get back to Earth I’ll stay there; I’ll never go out again. But I go out, and I guess I’ll always go out.”

You sniffled and wiped your eyes on your sleeve. “And I was so scared when you didn’t get back to me right away. Thought I’d scared you off…” You glanced down at the floor and played with your bracelet. It looked so fragile and dainty on your wrist. “I think I wrote five different responses to you after - deleted all of them.”

Bradley nudged your foot with his own and got you to look up at him. Even though it felt like his tattoo was burning into his skin - xxxix, xxxix, xxxix, the number ran through his head constantly as of late - he tried to put on a brave face. Everything you were saying was what he had been mulling over for the last three months. Thousands of miles apart and you both were still so in-sync. He cleared his throat before speaking.

“You turned my life on its head when you sent me that story.” Even weeks later, he was still in disbelief. “And I know it wouldn’t have changed anything - not really - but I kept - I keep wondering how my dad would’ve reacted to it? Or my mom? I don’t think it would’ve made anything different, but just knowing about it? Because I don’t want us to have kids and still be a ‘rocket man.’ I don’t want them - that little boy in your dream - to wonder if I want to be up in the sky more than I want to be with him. And be with you. I want to be around, I want to be their dad and your husband. I love it, I love flying. But I don’t love it more than being with you and having a family with you. I don’t want to die in an F18 with a family at home.”

You let out a sob and he wrapped his arms around you and slowly swayed you from side to side. “Kid, I got six more years and then I’m all yours.” He could feel your tears seeping into his shirt as you cried. “It’s like what I said after you sent me that story - I don’t want our kids chasing ghosts. Not like I did.”

“You’d give us your wild?” you whispered.

Bradley nodded and felt his own eyes welling up. “I want us to have what my mom and I didn’t. And it’s not that my mom wasn’t enough, but there was always a piece missing for both of us - Maverick, too.” You wiped the tears away from his eyes. “I love you, so, so much, kid. You know I’m gonna marry you. And I just want to be yours when it comes time for us to have a family.”

Honestly, it was a relief that you’d brought all this up. It only reaffirmed the thought that had been bouncing around Bradley’s head lately.

You two wouldn’t have kids until he was out of the Navy.

There were six years until Bradley could put in his twenty years and retire. It was a little fucked, honestly, and he was sure his therapist would have plenty to say about it. But why not avoid something that could end in tragedy for everyone involved?

Why run the risk?

Bradley wasn’t dying in an F18 with a family at home.

And he knew his logic wasn’t exactly sound. It didn’t entirely make sense even to himself. There would be plenty of times over the next six years where he could get into an accident or not come home from a mission. He understood that.

Except, currently, there wasn’t a kid waiting at home for him. There wasn’t a three year old Bradley waiting at home and being told by his mom that his dad wasn’t coming home. He knew that if you had a family, it would be harder for you to move on if something happened to him. And he didn’t want to put you and any future little nuggets through that. He didn’t want to be a rocketman with them.

Bradley wasn’t dying in an F18 with a family at home.

He wasn’t going to do that to your family. So, why not just wait to have a family until after he got out of the Navy? It seemed obvious. Perfectly so. The words had been ready to pour out of his mouth, except you beat him to it.

“I know,” your cleared the scratchiness out of your throat, “we talked about waiting to have kids until a couple years after we get married, but if you want to wait until you retire, we’ll do it. And then we’ll get all of you. I want to do everything with you, Bradley.”

Give you my wild, give you a child.

Bradley wrapped you up in his arms and squeezed you hard. “I love you, I love you, I love you. God, I love you so much.” He kissed your forehead and cheeks and lips and tried his damndest to pour all the love he had for you into it.

“I love you, too, Bradley,” you said simply.

And maybe it wasn’t exactly healthy to wait and almost be consumed by this desperate need to control both your lives and have a countdown clock to when everything would be okay. Because maybe things wouldn’t be okay in six years? And maybe you and Bradley would get in a car accident tomorrow or maybe you both would have trouble having kids or or or…

But Bradley wasn’t dying in an F18 with a family at home.

He would need to talk about this with his therapist at some point. The therapist the Navy gave him eighteen months ago after he ‘recklessly’ went back to save Maverick. The therapist that he just never stopped seeing even though he was cleared from last April.

“We’re a bit of a mess, aren’t we?” Bradley asked after a moment.

You pulled back. “Maybe? And maybe it’s a little extreme for both of us to think like that, but we’ll make it work, okay? However we have to, we’ll make it work for us.” You punctuated your words with a quick kiss over his heart.

“Oh dear,” you said suddenly. Bradley tensed up. “I got tears on your shirt.”

He chuckled. “Don’t worry about it, I know you can afford to get me a new one.” You shoved his shoulder and you both laughed. And just like that, the mood was lifted.

Bradley had been right earlier - he felt lighter. You looked lighter. And that wasn’t to say that you’d looked gloomy or upset or scared before, but your shoulders weren’t as tense and you kept smiling, at him, at whatever you were cooking, at nothing.

This could be his life every night. You could be together like this forever. Cooking dinner side by side, talking about where the mail should go (it very much was not on the hall table, that was for damn sure), complaining about Mr. Harrington next door or arguing over who should vacuum. All the little things that made that big life together. The one you both wanted so badly.

And contrary to your earlier statement, you did make you and Bradley another drink before dinner. In fact, it probably was what gave you the courage to attempt to flip the chicken in the saucepan like a regular José Andrés. (Even more surprising was the fact that you didn’t drop any.)

Once the potatoes finished, you swapped them in the oven for the asparagus, hoping the former would cool while the latter was roasting. All the while, you talked Bradley through everything - how much oil you added to the asparagus, where you’d gotten the potatoes, and the recipe for the chocolate cake you’d made for dessert.

It was - well, Bradley didn’t really have a word for what it was. His first thought was how nice it was seeing you so confident and capable and proud of yourself. But his second thought was that it was also oddly stirring seeing you do all this for him while he just watched.

Watched his pretty little girlfriend bopping around the kitchen, bopping around the house making sure everything was perfect for him. All you needed was a pretty little dress and a string of pearls to match your earrings. His pretty little housewife. Mrs Bradshaw. Bent over the kitchen island, wearing nothing but a frilly white apron and a pearl necklace as he fucked you from behind -

“All set!” Your cheerful voice interrupted Bradley’s fantasy before it could really start. He had zoned out while you’d been prattling on about the herb cutting scissors you wanted to get at Crate & Barrel. “Shall we?”

Bradley readjusted himself before getting up from his seat and helping you bring the drinks and serving dishes into the dining room.

Mrs Bradshaw.

-----------------

“So, how is it?” you asked once the food had been served and the wine had been poured. You had your chin propped up on your fist as you watched Bradley take the first few, slow bites of food.

It was good. It was more than good, it was excellent. It was hot and perfectly seasoned and all the textures were just right. And it wasn’t just because he’d been on an aircraft carrier, eating out of the officer’s mess everyday. Because the food was actually pretty good on the carrier and the Aussies had even treated him to a couple meals.

But he wouldn’t be Bradley and you wouldn’t be you if he didn’t mess with you a little. He tilted his head back and forth, trying to look like he was mulling it over. “It’s good…”

You nudged his foot under the table once you saw the smile threatening to break out on his face. “You ass.” The words lacked any heat.

Bradley took another bite of potatoes before speaking. “It’s really good, kid, seriously. You killed it. Seemed like you really enjoyed it, too.”

“I did,” you nodded, “I just always used to be so nervous I’d undercook something and make everyone sick, you know? Or that people would be lying to me about the food and that it was burnt or under-seasoned or something? But those lessons really helped and made me more confident, which is exactly why you gave them to me, so thank you.”

Maybe it wasn’t exactly why he had given them to you, but…

“You’re very welcome.”

Dinner continued on with only light hearted conversation after that. What Reuben and Bob were planning for their leave (Reuben and his wife were going up the coast for a mini-break and then building out the nursery for their baby, while Bob was going home to see his parents), the work you had to finish up before your trip, and what you both were hoping to get out of your vacation (good food, a tan, reading plenty of books, and having copious amounts of sex).

All the while, Bradley had another helping of everything, except the potatoes, of which he had two additional helpings - you refrained from seconds entirely. You two must have sat at the table for over two and a half hours, talking and eating and laughing. It was perfect. Bradley helped you bring the dishes back into the kitchen; both of you were more than happy to deal with them a little later.

And then there was the dessert. The chocolate cake looked heavenly - Ina’s recipe, of course - and you asked Bradley if he wanted an espresso martini to wash it down.

“What? ‘You trying to get me drunk?”

You put your hand over your heart. “I would never! Though, I know your tolerance might be a little shot. Did that affect your stamina, too?”

“Ha, ha, ha hilarious.” He took the cake plate and knife from you while you went over to the bar to make the martinis. “I’ll have you know that the Aussies were very accommodating hosts.”

“The Aussies, huh?”

Bradley shrugged. It wouldn’t be an issue to tell you now, not after he’d been dying to mention it for the past few weeks. “It’s not classified or anything, they just don’t like us talking about it in the moment.”

“Wait,” you came back into the dinning room with a coupe half filled in your right hand. “Did you go to Australia?”

“Possibly…” You shot him a look. “We do this joint training exercise with them every year. Last year was my first year.”

“That’s so cool! Did you spend much time actually on land or…” You went back to preparing the drinks and tossed your next question over your shoulder. “When was it? I think I saw something about it in the news.”

“After you got back from London. It was just a week for the actual exercise, but there were a lot of meetings in the lead up, we did a couple war-games, too. We were mainly in New South Wales with the aviators, but went up to the North Western Territory for the actual exercises.”

Last year, Bradley hadn’t had the opportunity to really get too involved in the planning aspects and being on base - his promotion hadn’t come through yet, so he had been just a lowly lieutenant - but his elevated rank granted him that privilege this year.

“Wait, that’s so cool, I’ll have to read up on it more! I definitely remember hearing about it on the news, should’ve made the connection.” You came back over with the drinks. “How were the other pilots? This isn’t going to be some Manchurian Candidate bullshit, is it?”

Bradley barked out a laugh. “Nah, that’ll be Bob.”

“Did it have a fun name? They always seem to!”

Bradley took a sip of his martini. Damn it was delicious. “Exercise Talisman Sabre - R-E. You want me to cut the cake?”

You nodded. Bradley pulled the cake stand closer to his seat. The cake was stunning. The frosting was definitely homemade and the white piping on the top looked perfect. “‘You take a picture of it yet?”

“Of the cake?”

“Gotta commemorate this, it’s gorgeous. Need one with you, too!” You smiled bashfully as Bradley snapped a couple pics with his phone and then put it face-up on the table. The picture of the two of you at your Christmas party before his deployment smiled back up at him.

You sat back down in your chair. “Here’s hoping it tastes just as good.”

There would still be plenty of cake for leftovers, but Bradley thought the two of you deserved a little something extra tonight and measured the first piece a little bigger than he normally would.

“Oh. You can have that one. I’ll take a smaller piece.” He went to cut another piece, slightly smaller than his. “Little smaller.” He kept scooching the knife closer and closer for your approval until it was only about a third of the size of his piece. “That’s perfect, thanks.”

You took a huge first bite of cake and Bradley did the same. “Oh, god. It’s so good,” he said. “I need the recipe so I can make this every week.”

Your fork froze midair for a moment, before you took a slightly smaller piece this time. “I don’t know if I can handle this every week...” You chuckled.

Bradley moaned. “But the ganache! The whipped frosting on the top! Sweetheart, it’s so good. The world cannot be deprived of its beauty.”

That got a proper laugh out of you. “‘You writing sonnets about cake now?”

“I’ll write sonnets about you, this cake, anything you want, you got me in a good mood, kid.” He licked the frosting off his fork and then went back in for the final two bites.

“That might just be the martini talking, bubs. Here,” you slid your barely eaten plate over towards him, “you can have the rest of mine.”

Bradley frowned. “You sure?”

“Yeah, I had extra batter and made some cupcakes. Had one this morning. I’m chocolate cake’d out.”

He was a little dubious since you loved chocolate cake, but took your words at face value.

“But first,” you swiped some extra frosting off your plate and streaked it across Bradley’s cheek, “you got a little something on your face, bubs.”

“Oh no,” he laid it on thick, “guess you’ll have to come over here and help me clean it off.”

In a flash, you were on him - arms wrapped around his neck, legs astride his thigh. Your feet remained firmly on the ground, but Bradley wanted all your weight on him, reminding him that he was here in the house you shared and not back in his bunk on the carrier.

“There we go.” You swiped the frosting off his cheek and sucked the excess off your finger. “My pretty boy again.”

He smiled. “You say that like you haven’t wanted to fuck me since we got home.”

Your jaw dropped at his words. “I’m trying to draw out the anticipation!” Bradley squeezed your hips and you shifted your weight on his thigh. This time your words came out quieter. “Thought you wanted me in our bed the first time back?” You pressed light kisses across his neck and jawline until you nipped at his ear. “The same bed I’ve been getting myself off in every night since I brought my stuff over.”

“But just like I asked, right? Just your fingers?” You nodded. “Good girl.”

You ducked your head at the praise and then pulled yourself even closer to him before capturing his lips in a deep kiss. You tasted like espresso and chocolate and Bradley wanted to take you right there on the dining room table with little regard for the state of his stem and dish-ware. Slowly, you rocked your body on his lap and let out a breathy gasp against his lips. The seam on your jeans must have been driving you absolutely crazy, but you didn’t let up. And, frankly, Bradley didn’t want you to - all he wanted right now was to keep kissing you, keep pressing his chest against yours, keep grabbing at your hips over your shirt. Except that soon wasn’t enough.

He slipped his hand underneath your shirt and went straight for your lace bra. He smiled against your lips. Good girl. You wore his favorite one. His hand slid lower to drag his fingers across the soft skin of your stomach and side. God, you were so warm. So soft. But he couldn’t linger on the spot for too long after you pushed his hand away and gestured for him to get up.

Without separating yourselves for too long, you and Bradley made your way from making out on his dining table chair to making out on the couch. You were on your back, half wedged between the back cushion, and entirely under Bradley’s bulk.

God, had he missed this. Touching you, kissing you, holding you, fucking you. You’d already talked for hours, now he wanted to kiss you for them.

The couch felt ten times more inviting with you now than it had earlier in the evening when it had just been Bradley. Because now he had you underneath him with your head on the throw pillows he had made note of earlier, now the candles on the coffee table were lit and were the perfect complement to your perfume, and now the cashmere blanket he had always loved was half draped over you both.

This was where you’d watch movies together at night, where you’d open Christmas presents, where you’d ride him after a long day at work, where you’d have meals with the news on in the background, where your kids would watch TV.

“I love you,” you rasped against his lips. “I love you so much.”

“Love you, love you, love you,” he repeated.

It could have been twenty minutes or an hour later, but now the two of you were just laying side by side on the couch. You were wrapped in Bradley’s arms, nestled against his chest, where you had been pressing little kisses against his neck for the last five minutes. Occasionally, you’d play with the ends of his hair or drag your finger across the scars on his neck.

Bradley pressed a light kiss to your temple. “This has been really nice, thank you. I’ve never had someone to come home to - not like this.”

You tilted your head up and bit your lip, looking adorably flustered. “I always want to be here when you come home. And I wanted to do something nice for you, make you happy.”

“You made me very happy, always do.”

“Always, huh?” you teased. You kissed his neck. Nipped at his neck.

Bradley mimicked your tone. “Well, not when I saw the way you put the mail on the hall table…”

“You gonna punish me?” There was a little glint in your eyes as you said it.

While the idea had plenty of merit, Bradley didn’t want that tonight, he wanted everything to be soft and slow, so he could really get his fill of you. Plus, you’d be so fucking tight for him, so responsive to his touch, he wanted to make that drag out as long as possible. He wanted you to babble, he wanted you to beg.

“Not tonight, but maybe tomorrow if you’re good for me?” He pinched your side and you let out a giggle and then suddenly sat up on the couch, almost startled.

“I should do the dishes, don’t want to leave them for too long. You can head upstairs, though.” You cupped his cheek and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

“You sure you don’t need any help?” he said the last word through a yawn.

“Nope!” You smiled over your shoulder and headed off to the kitchen. “You’re off the hook. I’m gonna finish putting these in the dishwasher and lock-up while you go upstairs and get ready, okay?”

Bradley scrunched his nose. “Is this gonna be a normal thing? You doing all the housework? Because that’s not gonna slide, roomie.”

“Oh, so I’m just your roommate now?” you teased. You bent over the dishwasher to put some larger plates in the back. “I see how it is, Bradshaw.”

He doubled back over to you and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling your back against his chest. “Got a feeling you’re gonna be my last one,” he murmured against your neck before he pressed kisses against it.

It was like you melted against him. God, you smelled so pretty and tasted so pretty and looked so pretty and sounded so pretty giggling. And Bradley had never felt so welcomed home before. He couldn’t wait to do this with you every night.

“Bradley,” you sighed and turned around to face him. “The sooner you let me finish, the sooner I can come upstairs…” You pecked him on the lips.

Upstairs. Where Bradley would take care of you.

Take care of you. Take you. Take you take you take you -

He groaned and gave you a longer kiss. “Okay, okay, okay.” He kissed you between each word. “But this is the last time you’re getting away with this...”

“I’ll hold you to it.” You kissed him again. “Now go! Get into something comfortable, powder your nose, touch up your hair -”

“I’m going, I’m going,” he promised. “Don’t be too long, we can always do everything tomorrow morning.”

You waved him off good-naturedly and went about setting the kitchen to rights. Bradley smiled at the sight of you already appearing so at home in his house - your house and headed upstairs. With startling alacrity despite the numerous drinks he’d had and the late hour, Bradley quickly brushed his teeth, did his skincare routine, and turned down the bed for your arrival.

Even a floor apart, he could still hear the sounds of you puttering around downstairs. If he concentrated really hard, he could imagine exactly what you were doing.

You had just opened the silverware drawer, probably had just washed and dried something - oh right, he had noticed you used the hand-wash-only salad tongs for the asparagus. Then you opened the tupperware cabinet and got out some snapware and eventually opened the freezer, putting the leftover chicken piccata away for another meal. Then there was the sound of the cake plate on the granite countertop and more snapware. He was still surprised you hadn’t eaten much cake, much of any of the food really, but chalked it up to nerves or excitement at his homecoming.

With a sigh, Bradley laid back against the fluffy pillows lining the headboard. God, he had missed this. His high thread count sheets, your fancy Laundress detergent, his side of the bed - and more importantly, you being on the other side. He stretched and let out a groan, getting comfortable.

This was perfect. He was home - in the house you now shared. You were going to come upstairs - probably in some cute little outfit - and give him a proper welcome home. Bradley bet you even got a new matching set just for the occasion. The two of you had gotten all the tough conversations out of the way - for the most part - so now you could really enjoy these next few days together before your trip.

And Bradley was so excited to go to Punta Mita with you. You had done such an amazing job planning everything. He had done some additional research on his flight home earlier and definitely wanted to hit up the spa and maybe sneak in a round of golf over the ten day trip. Plus, you definitely had the cutest fucking outfits planned. He always liked that, imagining what you were wearing while he was gone. The sporadic pictures hadn’t been enough. You always looked so pretty and he always needed to tell you.

Pretty, pretty, pretty. His pretty girlfriend. Downstairs, making sure everything was all set. He yawned. Mmmmm, he hoped you’d be upstairs soon. His eyelids were getting heavy.

And it was so warm and comfy and his stomach was full and everything smelled so good and he was here.

Finally, he was here with you.

In your house, talking about your future.

Maybe if he just closed his eyes for a few minutes. Maybe if he just took a quick nap…

a/n - sorry for the cliff hanger, but it's the PERFECT spot for a break! next part will have that first night back AND the lead up to their trip, which will be in the final part! couldn't have gotten this done without all the encouraging messages and texts over the last few weeks - special shout out to @sometimesanalice @callsignspark @notroosterbradshaw @ofstoriesandstardust @cherrycola27 @heartsofminds and @greenorangevioletgrass xxjordan

#bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster imagine #bradley and smart aleck #bradley bradshaw x female reader #top gun imagine #rooster x reader #bradley fic

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kendsleyauthor · 3 months

Note

I also love your new characters! But I love your old ones too. If you’re still doing prompts, dealers choice for #11? You’re amazing ❤️

SNOW ANGEL

Print / Trinket Universe (Micah and Everly)

~700 words

G/t dialogue prompt list

Aww I'm so touched by your love 🥰 Here's a bit of Micah/Everly wintery cuteness! ❄

@marydublinauthor 🌸

Where the hell is she?

Everly typically woke up before him, but she never strayed far from their shared room on the bus. This morning, he couldn’t find her working on schematics on her tablet, or tinkering with the various tech she’d scavenged, or overriding the vehicle’s AI to cuss him out.

“Ev?” Micah called.

As he stepped out of the room and into the narrow hallway, a chill snaked around him. The exterior door panel was wide open, and Everly was still nowhere in sight. He ducked back into his room and snatched the first pair of shoes within reach. He wasn’t sure what could have possessed her to leave the bus on her own so early in the morning—if she left by choice.

Premature anger bristled at the back of his mind. Crew members had bullied her into working off the clock before, but no one ever dared to drag her out of bed.

As he stepped off the bus, though, he didn’t have to look hard to find her.

Everly stood a few yards away with her back to him. Snow fell lightly onto the asphalt and stuck to the ground. She wore only a t-shirt and jeans, shivering like crazy but rooted to her spot.

“There you are,” he said, all the breath leaving his lungs at once. “What are you doing? You’re gonna freeze out here!”

Everly turned and looked up at him. Her eyes were wide—and for a second, he thought he was scaring her. But a breathless grin lit up her face. Every smile he’d ever gotten from her was hard-fought. Her sheer, unprompted happiness made him wonder if she was tripping on something.

“Uh…” He cleared his throat. “Don’t get mad, but you’re freaking me out.”

“It’s beautiful. Look at it.” Everly’s wistful sigh puffed past her lips like a cloud. She stuck her hand out and caught a few snowflakes, bringing her palm close to her face to examine them.

Then it hit him.

She’d lived all her life in southern California.

“You’ve never seen snow?” Micah dropped to one knee beside her, cocking his head to continue soaking in the unbridled joy on her face.

She shook her head. “Not the real stuff, anyway. A couple years ago, they dropped synthetic snow on the slums around Christmastime to boost morale or something. It was depressing as fuck. But this…” She cupped her hands, grinning as snowflakes gathered in her palms. “It’s not as cold as I thought it’d be.”

Micah laughed, reaching down with both hands to scoop her up. “That’s just the childlike-wonder talking.” His smile wilted when his skin brushed against her. “You’re so cold, Ev.” He swiftly brought her against his chest, eliciting a squeak of surprise.

“Relax, I’m fine!” She squirmed for a moment, but sure enough, she leaned into his warmth. “Okay, maybe…” She rested her forehead against his shirt. “Maybe it’s a little cold.”

He chuckled. “Let’s get you into some warmer clothes.”

“I… I don’t have any.”

Micah made a wounded noise. “I thought you said you looked through all the clothes I got you. Liar.”

“I-I mean… Looking through all of it would’ve taken me days.” She tugged at his shirt, and he peeked down at her. While she was definitely cuddling up against him for warmth, there was a certain sweetness to the way she rubbed her cheek against his chest. “But that means you can surprise me with an outfit. Won’t that be fun?”

Hugging her closer, he could already feel the chill vacate her little body as he stepped back inside. “Babe, we’re going through all your winter clothes. By the time we’re done, there’ll be enough snow on the ground to have some real fun. Wanna bet I can nail Xan with a snowball?”

“Only if I can also bet that he’ll murder you in your sleep.”

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burstanddecay · 1 year

Text

Clouded Eyes

The bluest things on earth don't know shit about the blues.

Pairing: Benny Miller x (named) F!Reader Summary: You wonder if, despite your efforts to keep the damage behind closed doors, Benny somehow knew how bad you've gotten, or if he's just now seeing the ruins for the first time. Wordcount: 2K Contains/Warning: A continuation of the preface, this chapter deals with passive suicide ideation. This is mostly angst, folks. Part two of Cold Is The Night

You’re tired.

Not the kind of tired that comes after a productive day, but the kind that settles into your bones, that aches and begs for deep sleep.

It’s something you feel often lately, when the anxiety crashes and burns.

Benny had goaded you towards his truck, clipping your seatbelt in place before you even could blink, already in the drivers seat and turning out of the parking lot before you could voice a single protest on the whole thing.

Despite that, the steady hum of the engine almost proves to be calming, if it weren’t for one small detail.

The car ride is fully silent, not even the radio playing as Benny’s gaze is focussed on the road. An anomaly: he’s talkative to a fault at times, filling the empty spaces with thoughts, things he’s seen or heard, memories he’s willing to share.

His posture, too, is off: he usually has a single hand on the steering wheel, the other resting on the armrest, completely at ease as he navigates through traffic. Today, both hands are on the wheel, placed at three and nine. Though the positioning is technically correct, it looks unnatural on Benny.

“You gonna tell me where you’re taking me, or am I gonna have to guess?” you ask, the words softer than you meant for them to be, eyelids heavy as your head is leaned back against the headrest.

He doesn’t reply, instead continues to stare at the asphalt stretched in front of you, not a single car in sight. It’s quiet enough that you could fall asleep like this, into the kind of sleep that comes with a tired mind that knows it’s in a safe place, but Benny’s silence keeps you from it.

Instead of giving into the exhaustion tugging at you like a persistent toddler, you open your mouth, ready to fill the void with half baked guesses when he suddenly pulls to the side of the road, coming to a halt in the frosty gras.

“Wh—Ben?” you ask, breath halting in your throat, suddenly wide awake. You shift in your seat, the leather creaking beneath as you sit up, hand coming up to his arm.

He shakes his head, knuckles white as the steering wheel protests under his iron grip, muscles twitching beneath your fingers. A small reminder of the brutal strength he possessed, but that he never used outside of work.

“Benny?”

“Mh,” he hums in acknowledgement, the sound rumbling through the quiet night, his head ducked as his shoulders rise and fall in a controlled pattern.

You don’t want to say the words. You can’t say them, you don’t want to hurt him even more than you already have, but they’re flashing in your head like a warning sign.

You’re scaring me.

Not because you think he might hurt you.

It’s just that in all the years you’ve known Benny, you’ve never seen him like this. Not after returning from deployment with his first squad, to coming back from his first mission with the delta force, or the one deployment that took him away from home for six months with almost no contact because of the level of confidentiality.

It isn’t like nothing seems to shake him: of course it does. He’s seen atrocities you can’t even begin to imagine, done unspeakable things in the name of his country. He was quiet upon returning every time, a little hollow, as if little bits of him were chipped away, but he was still Bennyat his core and mostly bounced back to those core aspects.

And yet you’ve never seen him like this. As if something touched a part that has remained untouched all these years, rattling him to his core, unable to pull up the façade that he was trained to maintain no matter the circumstances.

You hesitate, not sure what to say or ask, and start to pull back your hand when Benny catches you off guard, his warm palm engulfing your hand before you can remove it from his arm. Your breath falters, almost sounding like a gasp at the unexpected gesture. He doesn’t lift his head, but you can see a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth regardless, his quiet and steady breathing easing you.

Eventually, his gaze finds yours, blue eyes searching for something you can’t figure out, and he gives your hand a soft squeeze before reaching for the key. The car comes back to life and he pulls out of the grass with ease, his posture a little more relaxed than it was before.

You want to ask, more than anything, but it feels like something you lost the right to a long time ago. You shut him out: you don’t get to pry. It’s as easy as that.

“I’m taking you to the ring I train at,” Benny says, eyes trained on the road. “I’ve got the keys, no one will be there.” With that, he looks at you in a quick glance. “We’re gonna spar, you and I. Right now. Give everything that’s going on in that head of yours an out. I should’ve taken you to do that way earlier.”

“You couldn’t have known, Ben,” you say, voice quiet.

The steering wheel creaks as he adjusts his hand, jaw tense. “But I did, didn’t I?”

Of course he did. You aren’t stupid: you know to give credit where credit is due. There was a reason why Benny had been in the Delta Force, and it wasn’t just brutal strength.

Ben Miller is as smart as a whip, and is even more skilled in the department of hiding it. He makes decisions in a split second, both the calculated and impulsive kind, and is a master in manipulating the outcome when it threatens to slip of out his control, to ensure the outcome is as intended. He usually doesn’t get the credit and is fine with that: it works in his favour to let people believe he’s not the one calling the shots, his shadow work holding the loose threads together on the downlow.

You don’t often get to see that side of him. It comes out very rarely, usually just the happy-go-lucky golden retriever side of his personality at the forefront, but it always leaves you in awe to see him in his element. It happens in the ring, during high pressure situations, and when others lose control, even if it’s a just little bit.

Will moving house comes to mind: his ten year relationship had come an end when his ex-wife had cheated on, citing emotional distance as the reason. Though the elder Miller rarely showed emotion, being the more stoic one of the brothers and their friend group in general, you felt it a cruel reasoning. Will is many things; stoic, dry-humoured, serious, but he isn’t heartless. When he trusts you, he does so with his full heart and soul. It’s something all of them have in common: being able to blindly trust their squad was the key to staying alive and helping others do the same.

During the move, you could see him slipping between the cracks: there was a little uncertainty in the way he carried himself, unnoticeable to a bystander and nearly invisible to his friends, but not to Benny. He’d notice if someone was running a fever just by looking at them: his brother slipping between the cracks was like a beacon being lit. In result, Benny stood in places where Will couldn’t, keeping things upright when they’d been threatening to crumble, all while letting Will maintain the feeling of full control.

It's a work of art to see happening in real time, but it makes you wonder just how much of you Benny has been holding up without you noticing. How hard he tries to glue the pieces back together, to sew up gaping wounds, to place tourniquets to ensure you don’t fully bleed dry as you keep going and going and going.

The other options is that you have been succeeding at hiding it, and he’s just now getting a glimpse at seeing just how big the damage actually is. How much of you is being held together by the inability to give up, even though a part of you is begging for it.

You’re not sure which is worse.

You silently wring your hands in your lap, not sure what to say.

“I knew you…” he starts, and you can practically hear the frown on his face, see the crease between his eyebrows. “Fuck. Look, I could see you weren’t doing great, and I fucking—”

“Don’t you dare—”

“—carry some of that blame, alright? I should’ve stepped in, and—”

“I’m not a child that needs minding, Ben, I can—”

He hits the break, causing you to fall forward in your seatbelt as the car comes to an abrupt stop on the abandoned road.

“I know you can take care of yourself Peach, but that doesn’t fuckin’ mean you have to carry every goddamn thing alone.”

His accent comes out thick, the countryside that he grew up on shining through. You always figured that he’d be a cowboy given half the chance, but he ended up in the army instead.

You bite the inside of your cheek, jaw clenched so tightly that pain radiates up to your temples and the bitter tang of blood fills your mouth, a thousand yard stare aimed at the road.

Next to you, Benny heaves out a low sigh and a warm hand finds your thigh, fingers squeezing gently just above your knee. “I shouldn’t have snapped—it was outta line. I’m sorry.”

The breath stuck in your throat feels the size of a brick, hard and stuck sideways, Benny’s hand familiar in the way that he’s always casually touching you. A hand on your thigh, on your lower back, between your shoulder blades, an arm around the back of your seat.

“I’m fucking tired, Benny,” you say, voice breaking a little as you break your stare away from the lit up road, back down to your hands. There are no tears: where they’d been threatening to spill earlier, they were replaced with that bone aching, all-compassing feeling of exhaustion as soon as Benny buckled you in.

“I know.”

His voice is low, heavy; an anchor.

You know it’s not right, but that’s what Benny is. An anchor, keeping you somewhat in place in the middle of a vast ocean. You can’t drown, even if you wanted to: you’d take him right down with you.

You’re sure you’re imagining it, but it almost feels as if his hand is trembling as he shifts his fingers.

“We’re maybe five minutes out. Five minutes,” he says. “And then we’ll kick and scream until we’ve got no voice left, we’ll confront every single thing that’s stuck in your head.”

A laugh bubbles up in your chest, the sound light in a way that only Benny could cause.

“What’s so funny?”

“You couldn’t lose your voice if you wanted,” you tell him with a half smile, finally turning to look at him. “You were born to be a loud presence in this world. You need that voice.”

He looks at you for a moment before a smile appears on his lips, his eyes carefully scanning your face.

“That’s not the only thing I need.”

“Ben—”

“I need you to pull through this fucking thing, Peach.” The smile is still there, but his true feelings are hidden behind a carefully crafted mask. “Really. I’ll be with you day and night if I have to, but whatever it is your head is tryin’ to tell you, it’s wrong.”

You open your mouth to protest, almost telling him that there most certainly is at least one thing it’s insisting upon that is wrong, but something about the look in his eyes stops you.

“I need you here, okay? We’ll just take it five minutes at a time. We can do that, right?”

“Five minutes,” you agree quietly.

“Five minutes,” he mumbles before the lifts his foot off the break and slowly starts picking up speed again, his hand never leaving your thigh as he continues the drive into the darkness.

#benny miller x reader #ben miller x reader #benny miller x you #ben miller x you #triple frontier fanfiction #benny miller

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slippinmickeys · 1 year

Text

Three Part Harmony (12/?)

When Rhonda got to work Monday morning, there were more cars at the diner than usual, and she had to park at the Dairy Queen next door, leaping over detritus left from a snow plow on the berm in between lots. The cloud cover was low and leaden gray and slushy ropes of half-melted snow wound across the asphalt like contrails through the sky.

She stomped through the back door, trying to knock the chill out of her feet. It was odd being back on the job after the excitement of the weekend, and she felt like she was only half tuned in this morning, wondering how the little family was faring back in the mountain valley, like an overeager owner leaving a puppy home alone for the first time. She couldn't help worrying. It was in her nature.

After clocking in, she was securing her things in her locker when Shandrika came in through the bathroom door and headed right for her.

“Mornin’, Rick,” Rhonda said, rummaging around in her purse for her nametag, her hand sifting through wrinkled receipts and chapsticks, half an old mint Lifesaver, pen caps and loose change. When Shandrika didn’t answer, Rhonda looked up. The other waitress looked tense, her shoulders bunched up around her neck.

“What is it?” Rhonda asked.

“The FBI is here,” Shandrika said. “Asking about that couple you served last Friday night.” From the door of the restroom Rhonda could hear the clink of cutlery, the low murmur of voices. She could feel the blood slowly drain from her face.

“Did you say anything?” she asked, her mouth dry.

Shandrika grunted. She had no love for the police. “They’re talking to Clarice now, but I don’t think she remembers them.”

Rhonda wasn’t sure what all was safe to share with Shandrika. Nothing, probably. Still, she wanted to ensure the other woman stayed mum. She reached out and touched her friend’s arm. “Whatever they’re saying about them, I’m sure it isn’t true.”

“They’re not saying anything about them, not really. Just showing around some pictures. All I know is they wanted to get away from here and those two goons.” Shandrinka narrowed her eyes. “You’re not caught up in whatever this is, are you?” There was real concern in her voice.

Rhonda reached up and pinched her own cheeks to bring some color back to her face, taking a deep breath. “Of course not,” she said breezily.

“Good,” Shandrika said, turning back toward the door. “I’ll keep my mouth shut. I suggest you do too. Whatever this is, we want no part of it.”

Rhonda took a steadying breath before walking out into the restaurant. She hadn’t gotten more than five feet behind the counter when one of two men in business suits standing at the formica dinette caught her eye.

“Good morning,” she said, reaching behind her to tie the strings on her apron. “Can I get you fellas some coffee?”

There were a couple of other similarly dressed men walking amongst the other tables, trench coats trailing behind silvery shined shoes. They looked out of place and menacing, leaning down as they were and talking to the patrons. The diner was full and the low murmur of voices had an excited bent to it – the other customers giddy over the prospect of federal law enforcement intrigue.

“No thank you,” said the one on the left, who reached into his pocket and held up a badge with FBI emblazoned across the top. “I’m Special Agent Kent,” he went on, pointing to his compatriot as he repocketed his badge. “And this is Special Agent Bryson. We’d like to ask you a few questions.”

“My goodness,” said Rhonda in what she hoped was a convincing way. “I can’t imagine what about.”

From his own pocket, Agent Bryson – darker complexioned in a broody, minatory way — silently pulled out two pieces of paper that had Mulder and Scully’s pictures on them, laying them out on the tabletop in front of himself so that they faced Rhonda. Her heart started pounding, but she kept her cool, giving the pictures only a quick glance.

“We’re looking for these two people. We have reason to believe they may have been in here Friday evening. Possibly with a baby,” said Kent, lowering himself onto one of the stools.

“They don’t look familiar,” Rhonda said, turning up the sweetness in her voice and amping up her accent just a touch.

“Maybe if you took a closer look?” The man named Bryson finally spoke. His tone was civil, but there was a coldness about him that Rhonda didn’t like.

“Well sure,” she said, leaning forward to squint at the pictures. She pulled back. “No, sorry.”

“Rhonda, is it?” Agent Bryson clarified, and she nodded at him. “Your manager said you were working Friday night.”

“I was,” she said, reaching into her apron pocket for her order pad. “And I do need to be getting to work this morning, too. You sure I can’t get you fellas something? On the house?”

There was a taller suited man approaching them, who carried himself with an air of authority. Kent looked over his shoulder, saw the man, and began to stand from the stool. “No thank you,” he said as he stood.

Bryson remained where he was, watching Rhonda with humorless eyes.

“Agents,” said the man who was clearly in charge as he got to the counter. “We’re done here.”

Bryson slid the pictures closer to Rhonda. “I think I’ll leave these here,” he said, his eyes never leaving hers. “Just in case.”

Rhonda smiled and leaned forward to look at the photographs again, a show of being helpful. “You know,” she said, “these look an awful lot like the pictures from your badges. Same backdrop. Are they colleagues?” She shouldn’t have really said anything, but she couldn’t help the dig. It was unconscionable what had happened to her new friends.

When she looked up, the agent in charge was looking at her curiously. He was a tall man with broad shoulders, bald, with big flat glasses that caught the light when he turned his head. Rhonda swallowed thickly.

“Why don’t I hang these up on our community bulletin board?” she offered, having no intention of doing so. “That way anybody who might remember them can take a look. Y’all got a card or something I can post with it?”

Both Kent and Bryson reached into their pockets, but their boss was quicker on the draw and said “I’ve got it.” He reached into his lapel and pulled out a pen, then bent down to scribble something on the back of the card. “My mobile number is on the back,” he said, handing over the card. “If you have any information, please don’t hesitate to call.”

When Rhonda reached out to take the card, he held onto it a half a second longer than she expected him to, and then was gone, Kent, Bryson and two other agents who’d been interviewing patrons trailing in his wake. Before the door closed behind them, Jerry breezed through it, his face one of intrigued surprise.

“Shoo,” he said, sliding into the seat Kent had just been sitting in. “What was that all about?”

Rhonda reached for the pot of coffee and plunked a mug in front of Jerry, trying to figure out what she planned to tell him, when from behind her, Clarice spoke up, sliding an order into the pickets at the window.

“Order in,” she called out, then turned to Jerry. “That was the FBI,” she went on, “they’re looking for people who were maybe in here on Friday night.”

“I was in here Friday night,” Jerry said, practically vibrating with tattletale excitement. “Who are they looking for?”

Clarice’s eyes wandered to the pictures the agents had left, and Rhonda did the only thing she could think of, and poured the coffee meant for Jerry’s mug on top of the flimsy photographs.

“Oh my!” she exclaimed, whipping out a towel from under the counter and sopping up the mess, sliding the pictures into a liquidy heap which she then dumped into the slop trash next to the bussing station.

When she turned back to Jerry, Clarice was filling him in on what he’d missed.

“I wonder,” Clarice said suddenly, “if it was that table in the corner that sat down right at the end of my shift?”

“No,” Rhonda said quickly. “I took that table if you remember. It wasn’t them.”

“What’d they look like?” Jerry asked. “The people they’re looking for.”

It was then Rhonda did something she swore she’d never do. She poured Jerry a new cup of coffee, slid it in front of him, and just before Clarice could describe Mulder and Scully, Rhonda said, “Jerry, it’s finally next week.”

Jerry turned to her, confused. “Next week?”

“You know how I always say ‘maybe next week?’”

It slowly dawned on the man what Rhonda was saying. “You mean you’ll go out with me? Really?”

Clarice shot her a look like she’d grown an extra head, but she just smiled sweetly. “Really, Jerry.”

Jerry fumbled for a moment and then said “How’s about Saturday?”

“It’s a date,” she said, turning away and shooting him a coquettish look over her shoulder while she made her way over to table eighteen.

Later, much later, when things quieted down in between breakfast and lunch and she had a moment to herself to think, she pulled the business card out of her apron pocket and gave it a look.

Walter S. Skinner, it said, Assistant Director, and gave an address and phone number in Washington DC. She flipped it over to take a look at what he’d written on the back. Where Rhonda expected to find a phone number, instead she saw the words “say nothing.”

#the x-files #fanfic #my fic #msr #wip #family fic #but not fluff #not at all

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finnofamerica · 1 year

Text

The Week Of - Bucky Barnes X Reader || Part 1 || Angst

Summary: As a bridesmaid in your best friend's wedding, you are invited to stay with her during the week of the wedding as everything gets prepared for the big day. Things don't quite go as planned when you discover that you will be bunking with one of the groomsmen.

Word Count: 1,631

Date Posted: 05.29.23

TW: strong language.

Note: This may not actually be that angsty, but I wasn't sure what else to tag it as lol.

|| Masterlist || Request Here || Ask Me Stuff || Part 2 || Requested

Let's get one thing very clear. You hated flying. You hated airports and their crowds. You hated airplanes. You hated these deathtraps on wings that made babies scream and cry until you were so overstimulated that you wanted to claw your ear drums out. Your leg bounced rapidly as you tried desperately to tune out the static, but your headphones just weren’t quite doing it for you.

“Are you some kind of nervous flyer?” The man next to you asked, drawing your attention from where you were staring out the window, dissociating as self-preservation. You pushed back one of the ear cuffs on your headset, the rush of noise making you cringe.

“No,” You snapped, “I just can’t stand the chatter.”

“Damn, I was just trying to make conversation. You didn’t have to snap like that.”

“And you should know better than to try to make conversation with someone clearly wearing headphones.”

The man held his hands up in surrender, and you slid your headset back in place. Ava owed you dinner and some peace and goddamn quiet. You wouldn’t have even been on this damn plane in the first place if it wasn’t for her. She and her stupid fiance Greyson, you wanted to smack the shit out of right now.

Ava was your best friend in the whole world that had moved out of state with Greyson when he’d gotten a job offer that was too good for him to turn down. You’d kept in touch, but you had to admit that you were a little surprised when she asked you to be one of her bridesmaids, given that you wouldn’t be able to participate in a lot of the planning.

The jarring touchdown of the landing gear on the asphalt was as if someone had activated the trash compactor on the Death Star. It felt like the walls were closing in, and you were itching to set your feet on the cheap linoleum that lined the corridors of the airport. Once the airplane door was open, you had your carry-ons in hand, just waiting for your opportunity to join the slow shuffling line to the exit.

However, the stranger in the aisle seat next to you had other plans. He sat calmly in his seat, looking as relaxed as ever, despite your death stares boring holes in his temple. He was certainly in no rush to join the line or clear the way for you to hop past him. Only if murder wasn’t illegal, you had some fun plans for him.

Y/n: I’ve landed, but this fucker in the aisle won't get the fuck out of my way, so I can get off this plane.

Ava: I’m roughly 30 minutes out from the airport. We’ll be leaving soon to pick you up.

Y/n: I appreciate it, but I’d really rather not be at the airport any longer than necessary. Ava: Well, sweetheart, as long as that “fuck” isn’t moving, it looks like you are stuck either way. You’ll be fine. We’ll be there soon.

“After you.” Finally, once you were the last pair on the plan, he moved to let you out of your row. He gave you a faux gentlemanly smile that didn’t reach his silver-blue eyes as he allowed you to exit the jet in front of him.

“Go fuck yourself,” You scoffed as you made your way down the uncomfortably narrow aisle. If you never had to see him again, you’d die a happy woman. Sure that you had lost him long behind you, you made your way down the baggage claim, collecting your suitcase that they had started unloading off the belt to make room for the next arrivals' luggage.

Once outside, you felt like you could take a breath, despite the cloud of cigarette smoke from people lighting up after their long flights.

Ava: I’m five minutes away, just navigating my way to the gate. I got lost and had to loop around again.

You fastened your headphones firmly over your ear, trying to drown out the cacophony of car horns. You rocked on the balls of your feet until a familiar car pulled into view. Ava’s unmistakable VW bus hadn’t changed a bit despite being older than you were.

Ava pulled to a stop in front of you, hopping out of the driver’s seat with a squeal, rushing over to you, arms stretched out for a hug.

“Hugs or no hugs?” She asked, hesitation halting her movements.

“Later hugs,” you offered, “The airport and flight were just too many people, and I’d like to take a break.”

“Okay,” She gave you an understanding smile, dropping her arms and helping you load your bag into the van. You stared at her for a good beat, waiting for her to head back to the driver’s seat and back to her house.

“Are we not going now?” You shuffled, scratching your arm, wondering if you’d missed something.

“I’m just waiting on one more person,” She assured.

Just as you turned to hop in the front passenger seat, you heard the unmistakable voice of your worst nightmare. Today was just not going to be your day. It was the man from your flight. The leather jacket he wore did nothing to hide the built muscles underneath, nor did his well-fitting jeans. You would have thought he was attractive if you didn't despise him.

“Oh, you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.” He cursed. You knew it was meant to be under his breath, but it didn’t stop you from hearing it anyway.

“Bucky!” Ava cooed, wrapping him up in a hug, “How was your flight?”

“It was fine.” he patted her back in assurance, whispering, “Who is that?”

Of course, it was Bucky. The Bucky. Ava told you about James Buchannan Barnes, the other guest she’d have in her home over the course of the next week while they’d prepared everyone for the wedding. Greyson’s friend from the support group for disabled veterans that he used to attend before they moved. The Bucky that Ava and Greyson had always wanted to hook you up with but had never actually met. That Bucky.

The Bucky that you had been a bitch to on your flight.

You turned up your headphones, drowning him out. You weren’t interested in what Bucky had to say about you. You were certain it wouldn’t be anything good anyway. Ava helped him load up into the van before joining you in the front row of seating behind the steering wheel.

Ava made small talk with Bucky the whole way home, leaving you to mess with your pop-it and try to regulate yourself. You ignored them until Ava parked the car in front of a beautiful two-story house you’d only seen in pictures. The entire first floor was open-concept, allowing plenty of room to have a living room and conversation area. With the exception of Greyson’s home office, which was the only separate room on the entire first floor. You knew from Ava’s stories that the house had two guest bedrooms. Once they’d gotten to that point in their relationship, one of them would become a kids' room.

“Well, you are welcome to anything in the house.” Ava smiled, stopping outside of the larger of the two guest rooms, “Oh, and Greyson’s parents arrived late last night, and William & Janine will be staying in the other guest room, so you and Buck have to share.”

Before you had the chance to protest, Ava continued, “You two are grown adults. You’ll be fine sharing for the week. Besides, there is plenty of space in there for the two of you.”

You sighed, the look of defeat evident on your face. You knew you couldn’t afford a hotel for the entire weekend. You led the way into the room, setting your suitcase on the bed. It was a simple room with a large king bed centered on the interior wall. There wasn’t much for decoration, but it was nice nonetheless.

“I call first shower,” you muttered to Bucky, digging through your suitcase to find your shower items to take into the attached bathroom. If you didn’t shower the ‘travel’ off of you, there was no way you’d be able to sleep at night. But you had to shower before your unwanted roommate, or there was no way you’d be getting in a shower. Logically, the hot water heater would refill in about twenty minutes, and you didn’t know how Bucky liked his showers, but either way, if you didn’t shower first, then you weren’t showering. All of the hot water would be gone, and there would be no more left for you.

“Be my guest,” Bucky let out a groan as he sat in the armchair in the corner of the room. He dug out his phone, and you were convinced it was to text Ava and Greyson his private complaints about you. Or, as you hoped, to book a hotel and be out of there asap.

You took as quick of a shower as you could when you had to scrub every inch of your body until you no longer felt like you were covered head to toe in slime. Being around so many people in such tight quarters always made you feel like there was garbage sticking to your entire body. You’d changed into sweats and an oversized t-shirt. You hadn’t expected to be stuck in the same room with someone long enough to be worried about dressing sexy.

“The shower is all yours,” You offered meekly, moving to zip your suitcase back up and set it on the floor. Bucky said nothing but gathered his things and headed to the bathroom himself.

Great, your thoughts echoed. Off to a great start.

Tags: @1deadpool26

#bucky barnes x reader #james buchanan barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfic #marvel x reader #james bucky barnes

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soaked-butch-boxers · 11 months

Text

cw: biting, rough handling, slight spanking, semi-public sex, "good boy" title, good old fashioned sportsdyke foreplay

notes: inspired by the song "Play The Field" by Partner; Cal uses they/them pronouns and Jada uses she/her

Out of Bounds, I've Gone Too Far

It took the longest time for me to understand how Jada joined our university's women's basketball team, but once I made the connection between her last name and Coach Gibson's, it became clear. Nepotism is such a powerful thing.

It took even longer for me to understand *why* she joined the team. But it really shouldn't have.

I actually got into this school on a basketball scholarship. It's my whole life. I hope to go pro. Jada Gibson, on the other hand, can't play for shit. She's a music major, and while her hands might be clever with guitar strings, they are dumb as dirt when it comes to dribbling. She can't even pass accurately. Not even when I'm less than a foot away from her. It's a good thing Coach keeps her on the bench during games. Otherwise, we'd lose every single one.

I never understood why Jada didn't mind benchwarming until that day in the locker room.

We had been 2 hours into that day's practice, when I got the idea to work with Jada one on one. Maybe improve her skills and confidence a bit.

"Sure thing, Cal," she grins, her perfect teeth flashing as she lightly punches me in the arm. My heart stutters, probably from the workout.

"Lets start with your free throw. You've got great power, but your aim could use some work. Plant your feet at the free-throw line. No, shoulder width apart. Shoulder width, dude, what are you doing?"

"Could you come help me?" A smirk. I try not to stare at her long brown fingers as they beckon me closer.

I swallow and place my hands on Jada's hips, squaring them toward the basket. Then, I bend down and grab her ankles through her socks, shifting them into place. I'm careful not to touch any bare skin as I breathe in her scent: sweat, asphalt, and a musky cologne. "Try now."

Her skinny arms windmill and the ball ends up way too far left. I jog to go retrieve it.

"Haha, sorry! I think the issue is my form! Come position my arms?"

I return with the basketball under my arm, face flushed. Probably from the jog. Definitely not from the idea of touching her arms. I tell myself to get a grip, and toss her the ball.

I stand behind Jada on the free throw line, and she presses her back into my chest. I take a deep breath. *Why is she so distracting?*

"Hold it with the tips of your fingers. Yeah, just like that." I move her left hand underneath, pull her arms to her right shoulder. "Okay, good. Now relax your right wrist." Focusing on the motions is the only thing grounding me from the feeling of her soft skin under my hands. "Okay, good. Now bend your knees and throw. The power comes from the full body movement, not just your arms."

She shoots. She scores.

"Fuck yeah! That's the first time I've gotten one in!" Jada whirls around and hugs me tight, the tip of her high top fade brushing against my chin. I'm nearly a whole head taller than her.

I gently allow myself to wrap my own arms around her and hold her close.

"Gibson! O'Donnell! Time to scrimmage!" Coach shouts at us.

"Thanks, Cal. You're a great teacher." She winks at me as she lets go.

I'm distracted the rest of practice, feeling the ghost of her arms around my back. For the first time ever, I'm relieved when it's time to hit the showers, glad practice is over so I can return to my dorm and cool off, get this weird feeling to go away.

I'm always last to take a shower. I don't like getting undressed in front of the girls. I don't want anyone to see me with my binder off.

Jada usually never showers in the locker room, so I'm surprised when I see her grab a towel.

"Not gonna shower at your place this time?" I ask, trying to seem nonchalant, and not as if seeing her in nothing but a towel would turn me into a puddle.

"Everyone cleared out so fast today, I figured I may as well go ahead and get clean. I hate smelling like shit, stinking up the dorms."

"Then. Why don't you normally just shower here?"

"I just don't wanna make anyone uncomfortable. You know, since I'm a dyke and everything," she laughed.

"Bro, more than half the team are dykes, me included. You're not making anyone uncomfortable!"

"Yeah, I know, I know. Just don't wanna make anyone feel unsafe." She looks away for a second. I can't read the tone of her voice, but I feel the need to comfort her.

"I always feel safe with you," I say, walking over to her and laying a hand on her arm. "You don't have to worry."

Jada smiles up at me, full of a sweetness that almost hurts my heart. And then, she suddenly grins.

"Great. Because I was hoping you'd help me wash my back. Can't always reach it, you know?" She says it innocently enough, but I can't help but blush furiously.

"Uh -- of course!" I hate my stutter.

Jada starts to pull of her shirt, and I immediately whip around so I don't see her. I can't tell if that is for her sake or mine. I listen intently to the clothes shuffling off her small body, and try not to imagine what that looks like. I hear her walk over to the showers in her Nike slides, turn the water on, and close the curtain.

"Okay, dude, you can come help now!"

I give my head a shake, trying to clear it. *This is just friendly. She just needs help scrubbing her back. Don't make this weird.* I walk over and pull back the curtain slightly, expecting to see her bare back. My jaw drops.

Jada is standing there, in nothing but her slides, grinning up at me. Her large, dark breasts immediately draw my eyes. Her dark brown nipples are so hard. My eyes follow the happy trail down her soft stomach, and as I see the cluster of black curls between her legs, my eyes glaze over.

"I know this is really forward, but I've been flirting with you all season, and you haven't noticed, not even when I kissed you! We don't have to do this, you can walk away, but I really --"

Surprising both Jada and myself, I bend down and kiss her, clutching her jaw in one hand and her bare waist in the other. It's intense, full of grazing teeth and wandering tongues.

She pulls apart briefly and sighs out, "Fucking finally," before grabbing the collar of my jersey and pulling me into the shower with her.

"Oh, sorry, dude!" Jada giggles as she realizes she just drenched my clothes. "Lets get this off." She begins removing my jersey, then suddenly stops.

"What?"

"Cal. You're fucking binding? You've been running around all day, that isn't safe! You know better than that, I can't believe you!"

"I know, I know it's dangerous. And if any of my friends did that, I'd tell them the same. But I'd rather feel the pain of my ribs being constricted than the pain of seeing my body like that."

"No. I'm sorry for snapping," she says, smoothing her hands over my chest, immediately relxaing and arousing me simultaneously. "I'm just worried about you. I can't imagine what it's like. Just try to stay safe, okay? You'll be able to have top surgery soon, and then --"

I kiss her again. "You're sweet. But shut up and fuck me."

A pause. Then, Jada's eyes turn dark, and she slams me against the shower wall. The water continues to run down my short hair and clothes. She leans in close.

"Fine," she hisses. "But we're discussing this later. I fucking care about you, dude."

She leaves my binder on without even mentioning it, which I'm grateful for, and she immediately moves her hands to my waistband.

"Can I take these off, Cal?"

She's pressed up right against me, my heart is hammering in my chest, and I'm soaked in more ways than one.

"Y-yes."

Jada pulls my basketball shorts down to my ankles. "Cute boxers," she smirks, before pulling those down too. And suddenly, my wet cunt is exposed to the locker room, my t-dick sticking out between my glistening folds.

"Jesus Christ," she whispers, almost reverently.

I clear my throat, suddenly shy. Jada seems to notice, and gives me a gentle kiss to my lips before turning me around so my face is againt the wall and my bare ass is exposed. She slaps it lightly and chuckles as I jump, then leans in close to my ear.

"You are so. Fucking. Handsome. And I've wanted you for so long."

I blush everywhere.

She kisses the back of my neck, her arms pinning my hands to the wall. I gasp as her teeth drag over my skin. She bites down on the back of my collarbone, and I groan.

"Fuck, baby, you sound so good."

She presses my hands to the wall, nonverbally demanding that I keep them there. Then her fingers trace the water droplets down my back as I shudder and pant. My back is always so sensitive.

She moves her hands down my lower back and lands another light slap on my ass. It doesn't hurt, but I still jump.

*I am taller and bigger and stronger than her. Why am I letting her push me around like this?*

Jada presses her body against mine, and I can feel her coarse hair against the ass she keeps spanking. She clutches my throat with her left hand and reaches her right around my hips before slowly dragging a finger over my t-dick. I bite my lip to stifle a moan.

"Ohhhhh, no, baby, don't try to be quiet. I wanna hear you!"

"But -- Jada, w-what if --" I'm panting, unable to deliver a full sentence as she rubs me mercilessly.

"What if someone hears you?" Her left hand grabs a fistful of my short hair and she pulls my head back. "I want them to. I want them to hear you finally come undone on my hand."

I can't help it. I whine.

"Good boy." And I can hear the smirk in her voice.

She kicks my legs apart to get a better angle, notices my breath catch when she hits *just* the right spot, and starts rubbing me harder and faster.

I obey her earlier command and keep my mouth open, not bothering to muffle the unholy sounds falling from my parted lips. I'm getting more and more desperate with each stroke, and as Jada starts licking the water droplets off my neck, I start to unravel.

My whole body is shaking, and I'm so close so close so close so close

"Please," I whimper between sighs and gasps and groans and moans. "Please, Jada!"

"Good boy, being so polite."

As soon as she calls me a good boy, my orgasm hits. I feel my eyes roll in the back of my head, my whole body sieze up, my legs vibrating and struggling to keep myself upright, my tight cunt clenching around nothing. She rubs and kisses me through it, and when I finally relax and collapse against the wall, she holds me and strokes my wet hair.

"God, Cal." She presses a kiss to my cheek.

"Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck," I sigh. "Thank you."

"Did you just thank me?" She's laughing, and I pout at her. I never pout! She does crazy things to me.

"Well --" I start to splutter. She tries to shut me up with a kiss. "No, seriously, Jada! I feel the need to thank you. That was fucking amazing!"

"I'd wanted to for a long time."

"Really though. I feel the need to express my gratitude," I lower my voice into what I sincerely hope sounds like a seductive growl, and not a flustered enby with a fucked out voice. "And I have a few ideas on how I can do that..."

I eye the black curls between her legs and watch her grin.

#dyke nsft #nonbinary nsft #lesbian nsft #transmasc nsft #butch4butch nsft #butch nsft

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starlight-shades · 6 months

Text

Called Home to the Depths of the Forest Ch. 11

• summary – Debrief with the pack, and a lil puppy pile.

• rating – M

• wordcount – 3k

• warnings – mentions of previous character deaths, corrupt cop

Read on Ao3

Ch 1 Ch 10

If he expected to take advantage of their time alone in the ride back to the cabin, Simon would have been wrong. Instead of continuing their conversation from earlier, they wordlessly elected to let the car fill with whatever radio station Johnny had settled on. He wasn’t familiar with the music, but Johnny seemed to be, mouthing along to the lyrics as he stared out the passenger side window.

Soon enough the buildings grew sparser, and the road transitioned from paved asphalt to gravel to well-packed earth. The town became farmland became forest, with the light of the moon guiding them on their way home.

He felt like the drive had passed in an instant. Moving exclusively through muscle memory, Simon parked and pulled the keys from the ignition, but before he could open his door, a warm touch pulled his attention to Johnny.

The man looked unsure, chewing on his lip and staring at the pristine-looking rental car already parked out front. He didn’t remove his hand from where it lay on Simon’s wrist, thumb idly passing back and forth over his pulse.

“Kate knows, doesn’t she?” he asked, betraying his uncertainty.

“Know what?” Simon had gotten lost in the labyrinth of his own thoughts, so he was having a harder time than usual following Johnny.

“About us? Me and Price and Gaz and the pups…”

“That you’re not exactly human?” he supplied, turning to give Johnny his full attention.

He nodded before finally making eye-contact. His eyes were the vivid blue that signaled his shift was just beneath the surface.

“Aye…” He was silent for a moment, collecting his thoughts. “And you trust her?”

Gently, he broke Johnny’s hold on his wrist. Instead, he tangled their fingers together.

“With my life. Kate is one of the only people to have ever stood by me, especially right after— after my family’s deaths.” He stumbled over his words, but he pressed on. “She’s only ever done right by me, even when they were calling for my head.”

Raising their fists to his mouth, Johnny pressed a hard kiss to Simon’s knuckles.

“Then I trust her.”

His eyes had faded to their usual shade of blue by the time he was finished speaking, but they fell to Simon’s lips. Positioned as they were, leaning toward each other across the center console, it would be so easy to kiss him, he thought.

Despite their mirrored confessions while they were jailed together, they hadn’t actually clarified what their relationship would be moving forward. And even though he wanted so desperately to kiss Johnny again, Simon wasn’t sure he was prepared to open himself up to that kind of vulnerability again. At least not yet.

Reluctantly, he cleared his throat and dropped Johnny’s hand.

“They’re probably wondering what’s taking us so long…” he murmured.

Before he could get too far, though, Johnny reached out again, cupping his face with one hand and turning him back to face him again.

“I love you, Simon Riley. And whatever it takes, I’m gonna win you back,” he promised. “You’re gonna trust me again, I swear it.”

With an unexpected surge of courage, Simon leaned forward and kissed Johnny’s cheek.

“I’m counting on it.”

And if he smiled to himself as he exited the car at the stunned look on his face, it was no one’s business but his own.

It was late when they got back. Late enough that Simon wasn’t surprised that Duncan and Ailsa did not greet him when he opened his front door.

Instead, Kate sat at the table with Price while Gaz leaned against one of the kitchen counters.

“I see you’ve helped yourself,” Simon noted as he took in the tumblers that sat in front of Price and Laswell, filled with what he knew to be his favorite bourbon.

“I was invited,” Kate said simply, nonchalantly taking a sip of hers. “Don’t know if these two can say the same.”

“We’re pack. We get privileges,” Price shrugged, adding “The pups are down for the night in the bedroom.”

Simon nodded, ducking down the hall to peek into the bedroom just to lay eyes on the little lumps under the covers in his bed. Smiling softly to himself, he emerged back into the kitchen.

He shrugged off his coat and quickly poured his own drink as the door opened once again to reveal Johnny with cheeks that were perhaps pink from more than just the chill in the air. Simon held out the drink he had just prepared to Johnny as he joined them in the kitchen, grunting at Johnny’s nod of thanks before fixing himself another.

“If you’re pack because you came with Johnny, Kate is pack because she came with me,” he tossed out, ignoring the raised eyebrows shot his way. Was it really so surprising he had friends other than them?

Gaz was the first to chuckle. “How do you two know each other exactly?”

“She raised me from the dead,” he deadpanned.

Kate rolled her eyes fondly. “We worked together. He was in a different unit. Your Taskforce was exclusively supernatural. Ghost was probably the only human I’d even consider adding to your crew. Luckily you all retired and I didn’t have to.”

“Wait, how did you know that? That’s supposed to be classified,” Johnny asked, clearly lost.

“John, she’s Watcher,” Price explained. “Did you not know who she was this whole time?”

“What?”

Simon and Kate shared secret smiles between them.

“Yeah, mate, how did you not recognize the voice at the very least? We worked together for years,” Gaz said, clearly overjoyed at finding something new to tease him about.

“How was I supposed to know? We only ever called her Watcher, and we never met in person!”

“You never met her in person,” Price corrected.

Before the conversation could devolve into further bickering, Kate spoke up.

“We need to discuss what’s been happening.”

The room fell silent, everyone automatically deferring to Kate.

“Simon called me awhile ago to organize some paperwork for Duncan and Ailsa. I take it that this D.C. Collins is the reason why?”

“Yes,” he affirmed. “For some reason, when we met in town, he became fixated on Johnny and Ailsa in particular.”

“Aye, the bastard seems to have picked up that something isn’t normal with us,” Johnny grouched, shooting back the last of his bourbon.

“Well I was able to look into him a bit,” she explained, pulling a file out of the bag at her feet. Flipping it open, she turned it around so that the rest of them could scan it as she spoke. “Matthew Collins, Detective Constable. He’s with the police where he and his brother, Harry Collins, are from.” She pulled out another folder, this one much thicker, and flipped it open alongside the other.

“It looks like Harry has gotten himself into trouble over the years. Drunken disorderly, breaking and entering, poaching, among other things. It took some digging, but I was able to learn that Harry fancied himself a monster hunter.”

She flipped to a few photos where the man was posed with some others around the body of a suspiciously large bear. Simon recognized the other two from the night he killed them.

“There’s no hard evidence of this, of course, because ‘officially’ supernatural creatures don’t exist. He and his cohort seem to have been better about not documenting the more outlandish creatures that couldn’t be explained away. Luckily, they weren’t particularly successful. I was able to find only about five victims in the last decade, including Duncan and Ailsa’s parents. There might be more, but I doubt it with the way these men operated. The Collins’ father seems to have been much more active in his time, but he was killed when the boys were about twelve and fifteen respectively. I suspect that’s where this all started, with their father’s death.”

“So they decided to take up the mantle,” Price growled.

“So that’s the dead brother,” Gaz said. “What about the one that’s after us now?”

Kate smiled thinly. “Matthew. While his brother became a murderer, he chose to pursue a career in law enforcement. His numbers are pretty average, but it looks like he was able to get big brother Harry out of trouble a few times. He’s been investigating this on his own. Officially, he’s not even on the case. I was able to speak with his higher ups and have him reprimanded and pulled from the case. They’re not happy with the mess he’s made of things out here.”

She pulled out yet another file, this one incredibly thin.

“This is Harry’s missing persons file.” Flipping it open for them, she placed it on top of the other two. “Officially, this case is impossible to close. No body, no evidence aside from some eyewitness testimony from earlier in the week, and the last known location that pinged off his cell that’s a handful of kilometers from here. He’s running this show on nothing but his gut. I was able to get all the charges thrown out, but Simon,” she paused, looking him dead in the face. “You did not need to get arrested too. I had to promise to replace the receptionist’s paperweight. She didn’t let up until I told her it was all in the name of love.”

He ignored the knowing look in her eyes when he grumbled, “You told me to get in to see him…”

“In what world does that mean get arrested?” Kate asked incredulously. “That’s how I knew it was real. When Simon Riley is making foolish decisions over a man.”

“Kate,” Price murmured, trying and failing to subtly gesture for her to stop.

“Oh, are you…?” She looked from Price back to Simon and Johnny who were standing stiffly beside each other. “I didn’t realize you were pretending not to be in love.”

“No, uh, it’s just complicated at the moment,” Johnny tried to rescue him, his face progressively getting redder and redder.

Laswell looked between them again before rolling her eyes. She took another swallow of her drink before muttering something that sounded suspiciously like “Men” under her breath.

“Regardless, I am hoping that getting Collins pulled from the case by his bosses is enough to get him to back off, but with how persistent he’s been, I doubt it. I recommend continued caution until I can confirm he’s gone home and will stay there.”

They all shared a look, wordlessly agreeing about the likelihood of that happening (next to none).

“On that note, I am turning in for the night,” she declared, drinking the last bit at the bottom of her glass. “Whoever is coming back to the Price-Garrick abode, you can join me in the car or make your own way.”

“Ruthless,” Price teased as he and Gaz went to grab their coats.

As she cleaned up her folders, Simon went to help her, and Johnny began gathering glasses. Before Laswell put them all away, however, she pulled one last file from her bag, holding it with more care than the others. It was unassuming for the most part. It was a decent size, but there were no notes on the outside to denote what lay within. There were a few sticky notes peeking out from the sides, and a handful of paperclips that ensured it didn’t lay evenly.

When he went to open it, Laswell gently laid her hand over his, stopping Simon.

“This is everything I could find on their parents,” she murmured. “They don’t have any other family from what I can tell. It’s probably more than strictly necessary, but just in case they want to know more as they grow older. I included all the photos I could find.”

Johnny stepped up to stand next to Simon as she spoke, addressing both of them.

“That’s unusual for wolves, to be the only ones,” Johnny said, grief implicit in his voice.

Kate smiled sadly. “They had each other. From what I can tell, theirs was a small but happy family.”

Johnny made a sound in his throat, something caught between a whine and a chuff. When Simon slung his arm around his shoulders, he leaned in.

“We’ve got them now,” he murmured. “Thanks, Kate.”

“Of course, Simon. You know you ask and I’m there.”

As she passed them on her way to the door where Price and Gaz were waiting, she squeezed them both into a tight hug.

“You boys are doing a good thing,” she reassured.

When the door shut behind them, Johnny turned back to Simon.

“And then there were two,” he mused, going back to cleaning up anything left out for the night.

But Simon wasn’t paying attention. His eyes had made their way back to the file folder sitting on the table. Images of a woman, covered in blood, begging him to keep her children safe flashed before his eyes.

He slowly opened it, eyes scanning over basic demographic information, and a driver’s license photo.

Danica Anderson. A name.

She had Duncan’s eyes. Ailsa’s nose.

He flipped the page to find a man. Patrick. When he died, he had been in his wolf shape, so the face staring back at Simon was unfamiliar while simultaneously looking exactly like his children.

When he felt a hand on his shoulder, he startled.

“Just me, Si,” Johnny murmured.

“Sometimes I wish I had just left town earlier that night. Then maybe I could have gotten there sooner,” he whispered, reaching to slide his arm around Johnny’s waist. “I know I can’t change what happened, but they shouldn’t have died.”

A particularly wolfish sound left Johnny’s throat at that.

“Oh Si, I know. We do our best, but we can’t replace them.”

Gently, he pushed past all of the documents to the photos Laswell had mentioned. Johnny leaned further into his side as they looked at images from social media, photos likely hacked from some app online, and school photos from when Danica and Patrick were younger.

“She was bonnie,” Johnny observed, running a finger down a photo of Danica laughing at what appeared to be a professional conference.

“She was damn smart too. Doctor of entomology,” Simon commented, pulling aside a photo of the two of them at Danica’s commencement, proudly holding her degree while Patrick kissed her cheek.

Johnny smiled at that. “Now we know where Dunc’s love of creepy crawlies comes from. Oh and here’s their Da playing footie! Think I can convince them to get into it?”

There was a soft smile playing at his lips when Simon looked down at Johnny.

“I think you could probably get those pups to do just about anything with you.”

Johnny tilted his head back to look back at him.

The two of them weren’t fixed, but they were getting there.

They spent a little longer looking through the photos and learning about Ailsa and Duncan’s parents. Johnny got a little misty eyed when they found Danica’s maternity photos, and even Simon wasn’t sure his own eyes were totally dry.

“When it’s calmed down some more, I think we should talk with them about how they want to remember them,” he murmured as they gathered the file into some semblance of order again.

“Aye, that’s probably a good idea.”

When it was as together as it was going to get, Simon headed into the living room. He pushed the couch aside to reveal one floorboard in particular that lifted to reveal a fireproof lockbox.

“Code is ten-ten-eighty,” he said out loud.

The door popped open to reveal a small fortune in cash in multiple currencies, several passports, a handgun, about half a dozen knives, and a pile of several file folders where Simon stacked this one.

“I’ve got hard copies of the documents Laswell drafted up for the pups as well as some backups with aliases just in case. You’ve got some in here too.”

He didn’t look back to see what Johnny’s reaction was. They were retired, but Simon had learned that they had both been special forces. Hopefully the other man understood.

When he stood back up, Johnny wordlessly stepped forward to help him replace the couch.

“I guess I’ll sleep out here, if you wanted to take the bed with the wee’uns,” Johnny offered.

“I don’t want to wake them,” he admitted. “I can take the couch if you want the mattress.”

“Alright…”

They were back in awkward territory.

When they moved at the same time to move the mattress, they bumped into each other, muttering apologies. Simon stole a glance only to meet those blue eyes again, a blush once again taking up residence across Johnny’s cheeks.

They laughed softly, smoothly falling back into a partnership as they set up the living room for the night.

A creak sounded from the hallway behind them, and when they both turned to look, they found wide, sleepy eyes staring back at them.

“Simon? Johnny?” Duncan spoke, sounding small.

Instead of saying anything else, his sister pushed past him to march up to them, practically climbing Johnny to get him to hold her.

“Easy there, girly,” he chuckled.

She was still very clearly half-asleep, so all she did was snuggle closer and close her eyes again.

“Don’t leave again. Missed you,” she mumbled.

Duncan walked over and stood in front of Simon, lifting his arms up.

Like a well-oiled machine, Simon responded to his cue by hauling him up into his arms, and letting the boy latch around his neck like an octopus.

“Come sleep,” he demanded, surprisingly bossy in his sleepiness.

“We can tuck you in, Bug,” he assured.

“No. Everyone in the big bed.”

Simon and Johnny shared another smile.

“Aye, think we can manage that,” Johnny agreed.

Instead of putting away the mattress for the night, the silent agreement was to leave it for the morning. It was late. Their presence had been requested in the bedroom.

It was still a tight squeeze with all four of them, but the pups snuggled close. When Ailsa, almost definitely asleep already, felt Simon lay down beside her, she looped her arm around his, cuddling his biceps like her favorite stuffy. She did the same thing with her other arm when Johnny slipped in on her other side. Duncan just settled himself on top of Simon, never having let go of his neck.

“G’night,” he mumbled, promptly falling back asleep.

Before long, they were all tumbling headlong into the Sandman’s embrace.

#soapghost #fic #fanfic #cod fanfic #call of duty fanfic #werewolf soap

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zorinanana · 1 year

Text

Kiss Me in the Dark is another illustrated fanfiction I made a couple months ago. It takes place in the same continuity as Like a Glass Bottle, but it's a completely separate story that doesn't really connect to that one. I also wrote this before Chapter 7 Part 1 or the Sunset Savanna event came out so there's some parts that definitely diverge from canon. There are also spoilers for chapter 6, by the way.

Rating: M (Strong language, suggestive content, A LOT of mentions of suicide and self-harm)

Pairings: Leona/Idia, background Malleyuu

Content Warnings: This story pretty much revolves around suicidal ideation, depression, and self-harm. I am serious, you probably don't want to read it you have a hard time with that stuff.

Word Count: Long as Fuck (~55k words)

“You’re beautiful.” Leona breathed.

Idia’s eyes blew wide. He tried to step back, but Leona stopped him with a touch to his cheek. Idia stared down into his upside-down eyes, searching for something. Maybe an escape.

“…I’m not.” Idia said. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“No.”

“You’re a jerk. You’re a mean kittycat.” Idia whispered, leaning closer. “And you’re a liar, too.”

“I’m not lyin’.” Leona replied.

“Then say it again. Convince me this time.” Idia’s lips hovered over his. Leona felt the warmth of his breath, of his hair spilling over the back of the futon and covering them like a curtain.

“You’re beautiful. Beautiful. Beautiful. Beauti-”

Before he could say it again, Idia silenced him with his lips.

Chapter 1 - Beautiful

Parked by a small, secluded beach on the west coast of the Kingdom of Heroes, a shiny new camper reflected the brilliant oranges and blues of the sunset. It had been built to look vintage, but a closer look revealed distinctly modern features and artificial wear and tear. Its owner had bought it because he knew that its kitschy fakeness would make people mad. He leaned against the fence separating the lot from the beach, watching the last of the beachgoers pack up their umbrellas and beach chairs. Parents carried their sleeping toddlers on their backs, ignoring him as they walked past.

Leona exhaled slowly, letting the smoke from his cigarette drift into the air in a dirty spiral. It stood out against the vibrant colors of the sky, a nasty blemish that soon dissolved into nothingness. It was almost poetic, in a way, but he would never write it down or say it out loud.

He hadn’t come to the beach for any particular reason. He didn’t even have a swimsuit on him. He had no reason to be here, or there, or anywhere.

Leona had been on the road for a good four months now, out of the Sunset Savanna, through deserts and mountain ranges and cities of all sizes, eventually making his way here. This wasn’t his final destination. He didn’t know what that would be, yet. He’d figure it out as he went along.

As long as he wasn’t home.

The parking lights began to flicker on as the sun sank further below the horizon. Leona flicked the butt of his cigarette against the asphalt, stomping it out with one of his heavy boots.

As night fell, the air grew chilly. Leona sighed, slipping back into his vehicle. Time to figure out what he was going to do next.

Despite its relatively small size, the camper was pretty cozy. He and Ruggie had customized the thing to hell and back. Most of the back was taken up with a kitchenette and a tiny bathroom, along with stairs up to the lofted bed. Way in the back, under the loft, hid a little nook with a loveseat for reading or just lounging around. There used to be a TV mounted there, but they’d taken it out after they had gotten back.

Souvenirs from their trip still hung from the rearview mirror and covered any stable service. He’d bolted a makeshift shelf to the wall where a bunch of tacky bobbleheads now wiggled aimlessly. It was cheesy, sure, but who was going to care? It was one of the last good memories he had.

Speaking of Ruggie. Leona pulled his phone out of his pocket, intending to open it and check the map for good spots to eat and sleep. But before he could, he saw the multiple missed calls from his friend-slash-employee.

“Can’t wait to find out what this is about.” He grumbled, despite knowing exactly what it was about. He dialed Ruggie back and waited.

“Boss! Your brother is pissed.” Was the first thing he said, his voice frantic.

“What else is new.” Leona answered.

“I’m serious, Leona. He’s about to go on the warpath.” Leona could hear the hyena whipping his head around to check that he wasn’t being overheard. “They found out you’ve been gone and now they’re asking him questions about it.”

“You guys still haven’t told them?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, that’s not part of my fucking job description!” Ruggie scoffed. “I’m already on thin ice with your brother, why would I stick my neck out just to get more people mad at me?! I need this job, Leona!”

“You know I’d give you a good recommendation. I wouldn’t leave you high-and-dry like that.” Leona rolled his eyes. Yeah, maybe he was being a baby. But Ruggie knew more about the situation than anyone and Leona thought that he, at least, would understand.

“Would still love to not get kicked out of the palace and give my grandma a heart attack, thanks.” Ruggie replied. “I can’t afford to be looking for another job.”

“Then I’ll pay you from my personal account until you find one.”

“That’s not the fucking point, Leona!” Ruggie growled in exasperation. “God! Do you rich people ever think of anyone other than yourselves?!”

“Ruggie, calm down.” Leona sighed. “I’ll tell them personally, okay? Tell Falena I’ll call tomorrow.”

“You’d better not mess this up for me.” Ruggie replied, but Leona knew he would do it.

“You know he’d still fire you if he ever heard you talking to me like that, right?”

“Honestly, it’d be worth it. I’d go out with a bang. Really cuss you out over all the shit you’ve put me through.”

“Don’t know what I’d do without ya, Ruggie.”

“Bite me.” The phone went silent as Ruggie hung up. Leona stared at the darkened device, thinking. He was running out of options. It seems he couldn’t pretend to be sick or out on “business” anymore.

Slumping against the leather driver’s seat, he let his phone drop to the floor. He hadn’t felt this pathetic in years. Not since he’d met Yuu and the others and gotten his ass kicked by a bunch of kids.

Through his windshield he watched the sun wink out of existence. He kicked his heel back, hearing a hollow “thud” from the metal safe he’d been keeping under the driver’s seat. Ruggie had suggested it for hiding weed in if they ever got pulled over. He just needed a reminder that it was there.

He could still do it. This was a nice enough spot, and the beach was nearly empty. Nobody would be there to stop him setting up, and they wouldn’t find him until the next morning. But he didn’t get up. That cowardly side of himself had grabbed hold of him, pinning him down. He tried to breathe, waiting for something to change. He never knew which direction the scales would tip.

Leona’s phone buzzed in his hand. He sighed and lifted it to his ear.

“What is it now, Ruggie?”

“Um, I’m not Ruggie.”

“Idia?” Confused, Leona double-checked the name on his caller ID. Yep, there it was, “radish sprout”. “You never actually call people.”

He tried to remember the last time he’d heard Idia’s voice. They still texted sometimes and played online chess in their spare time. But Leona didn’t get much opportunity to hang out with schoolmates these days, so many years after dropping out. Last he had heard, Idia had just finished up his engineering degree at some fancy school in the Sunshine Lands.

“I, uh… Didn’t think I should ask this over text.” Leona could hear other people on the other end of the line. He could picture Idia perfectly, sitting somewhere public with his legs scrunched into his chest, a bundle of nervous energy.

“The truth is, I need a huge favor.”

“…Why are you askin’ me?” He winced at his own rough questioning. Damn it, Idia would definitely take that the wrong way.

“…Oh, silly me. Of course the prince of the Sunset Savanna himself wouldn’t have time for a loser like me…”

“Shut the fuck up, I didn’t mean it like that.” Leona sighed. He pinched the bridge of his nose, more annoyed with himself than Idia. “I just know you have other options that you’d rather ask for help from first. Y’know, like Yuu or Azul.”

“They can’t help me.” Idia answered. “Azul is working down in the Coral Sea right now, and Yuu is… Well, they’re busy.”

“And you think I’m not busy?”

“I know you’re not busy.”

“Fuck.” Leona grumbled.

“Look, just forget it. This was a stupid idea.” Idia’s vice sounded shaky. Leona felt a pang of guilt and grimaced. Damn it, he knew Idia well enough by now to understand the way he was. He wouldn’t have called for help unless he really needed it.

“I didn’t say ‘no’, yet. Just tell me what it is.”

“…So my parents just disowned me.”

“What the fuck.” That was not what he expected.

“I know.” Idia said, dejected.

Leona’s eyes widened. He ran a hand through his bushy hair, trying to process what he was hearing. What could Idia have done to get disowned?

“…They only let me study engineering because they expected me to come home and keep working for S.T.Y.X.” Idia began, as if he could read Leona’s mind. “But I’ve been applying to other companies, and I got an offer. And they found out.”

“Shit.” Leona growled. After everything that had happened, they were still at it with him. It was just so… unjust. Unfair. Idia had never deserved that, and he didn’t deserve it now.

“You know this is just a power play, right? They need you more than you need them.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I know.” Idia replied. “That’s why I… I’m not gonna give in. Not this time. So I just need a place to stay for a little while. Just until my new job starts.”

“…Where are you right now?”

“At an airport in the Kingdom of Heroes.”

“Good, I shouldn’t be far. Text me the address, I’ll get there.”

Idia spluttered in surprise. “Leona?! You’re really going to-”

“What, you were expecting me to say no?” He scoffed, sitting up in the driver’s seat and turning the key. The vehicle rumbled to life, ready to go. “I’m not that much of an asshole.”

“Y-You don’t have to rush right here! I can make do for one night!”

“Not like I’ve got much else to do.” Besides killing myself. He added, silently.

“Nevermind, you don’t have to. You don’t have to! Th-this is a waste of your time, I’ll just figure something else out, I’ll-”

“Idia.” Leona interrupted him. He wished he could look him in the eyes right now, he could easily picture how terrified he must be. “I want to help. You ain’t a waste of time.”

That was part of the reason, yes. But it was also a way for him to stop thinking about the things he was keeping under his driver’s seat.

“…Thank you.” Idia mumbled. “I… I really appreciate it.”

“Damn right you do. I’m living in a van right now, by the way. Hope that’s not a problem.”

“What? Why?!”

“Long story. Tell you later.”

---

When he finally reached the airport six hours later, the first thing he noticed was that Idia had cut his hair.

He’d cleaned up a lot, actually. He’d put on slacks and a well-fitted shirt for once, instead of hiding himself away in a pile of baggy clothes. All he had with him were one suitcase and a duffel bag. Leona honked the horn as he got closer, startling him into nearly dropping his phone. He laughed at the glare Idia gave him through the window.

As Idia slid open the side door to throw his suitcase inside, he took a moment to look the inside of the camper over. He seemed impressed. “Wow. When you said ‘van’ I wasn’t expecting this space-defying pocket dimension.”

“I’ll give you the grand tour once we’re outta here.” Idia stepped inside, sliding the door shut behind him. He tried to wedge his suitcase into the little reading nook in the back where it wouldn’t be jostled around too much.

“You got a haircut?” Leona remarked when he finally sat down. It still looked messy, but that was probably because he’d been stuck at the airport for so long.

“Y-Yeah. Does it look gross?”

“How would a haircut look gross?”

“I… dunno, actually.” Idia let out a little laugh. He reached up to grab a loose curl of hair. “This is just the first time anyone outside of the Island of Woe has seen me like this.”

“It looks good.” Strange, but good. Idia’s long-haired look was certainly unique, but it probably attracted more attention than he wanted. It hadn’t made much sense that he had kept it like that in the first place.

“Y-You don’t mean that.” Idia looked away and hid his face behind his palm, a new habit he must have developed since he couldn’t hide behind his hair anymore. He pulled his hoodie from the duffel bag at his feet and slipped it on. Leona wasn’t sure why, but he felt a strange sense of relief that he still had it.

“You really need to learn how to take a compliment.” Leona sighed. With Idia buckled in and everything loaded up, he pulled out of the passenger loading area.

Leona navigated out of the maze of airport traffic and pulled onto the highway. “When was the last time you ate anything?”

“…Um…”

“Okay, so food first, got it.”

“W-Wait, I didn’t get to answer!” Idia protested.

“So what’s the answer?” Leona raised an eyebrow, but he didn’t look away from the road.

“…I grabbed some chips from the airport convenience store, but as for real food, it was the night before last. I had dinner with my parents.” From the corner of his eye, Leona saw him fiddling with the zipper on his hoodie. “I was kinda happy about it too, like an idiot. I don’t usually get to eat with them. But they must have already known by then.”

“What about Ortho?”

“Ortho’s fine. He’s at school.” Idia perked up. “Oh, yeah, he decided to go to the same university as me. He doesn’t need to, but I’m glad he did. He’s made lots of friends.”

“No shit? What does a robot study in university, exactly?” Leona asked.

“You’re not going to believe this, but photography.”

“Photography?”

“Yeah!” Idia turned in his seat. He was finally smiling, just a little bit. “He got really into cinematography and stuff like that in Vil’s film club. And he’s good at it, too! I can show you his portfolio when you’re not driving.”

“Huh. Sure, sounds interesting.”

After a moment of silence, Leona asked:

“Does he know what happened yet?”

Idia didn’t answer right away, but his head dropped just a little.

“No. He’d go berserk if he knew.”

“Hm.”

Idia shifted uncomfortably in his seat, as if he was expecting a lecture. Leona rolled his eyes. He knew he couldn’t judge. He’d never had a relationship with his own brother like the Shrouds’, but he could imagine how embarrassed Idia must be right now.

And… He was doing the same thing, so getting on Idia’s case would just make him a hypocrite.

“What do you want to eat?”

“Some fast food garbage would be great.” Idia answered. He’d started staring out the window at the deep black sky, even though there was nothing to see with all this light pollution. “I haven’t had any in ages.”

The streetlights lining the highway cast a warm glow through the window on Idia’s melancholy face, blotting in and out as they passed each one. It was nostalgic, almost. It reminded Leona of falling asleep in the back of one of his family’s cars after a long day out, his head resting against his big brother’s shoulder.

Leona tried to think of what to say. Years ago, when he first met Idia, he wouldn’t have cared about what happened. But now, after they’d worked together and become something like friends, he had too many questions and no idea how to ask them. If he wasn’t careful, Idia would shut down and retreat into his little introvert zone, and good fucking luck getting him out of there.

So he said nothing, idly kicking his free foot against the metal box under his seat.

---

Idia had barely started on his food by the time Leona finished scarfing down his two double cheeseburgers. He’d been driving non-stop since sunset, and he could feel his energy starting to flag. The restaurant they’d settled in was nearly empty this early in the morning, the only other occupant a tired cashier blatantly scrolling on her phone as she leaned against the counter.

“You look like hell.” Idia remarked.

“Could say the same to you.” Leona snapped back.

Idia rolled his eyes. Before S.T.Y.X., he never would’ve done something like that. At least not to his face.

“You know what I mean. Were you on the road this whole time?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” Leona laughed and snatched a fry from Idia’s tray, ignoring the glare he got for it. “Stop eating so slow. It’s survival of the fittest out here.”

“We’re in a McDonald’s. There’s a playground for toddlers outside.”

“And what do you think happens to the ones who can’t find their way out of the tubes?”

“Pfft.” Idia tried to conceal his smile by taking a big bite out of his own burger.

He didn’t speak again until he had finished chewing. “I can drive, so you can take a break. I don’t know where you’re going, though.”

“That makes two of us.”

Idia looked confused. “You don’t know?!”

“Can’t a guy just fuck off for a while and have an adventure?” Leona leaned back in the restaurant booth, grinning at the man across from him.

“Sure, but a prince? Why do I get the feeling you’re not telling me the whole story?” Pouting, Idia leaned forward to glare at him.

“Don’t we have more important things to worry about? Like what you’re gonna do.” Idia stared down at his food. Leona swallowed nervously. His deflection had worked, but he couldn’t help but feel bad about it.

“I accepted a job offer a week ago.” Idia explained, still not looking up. “I was supposed to start next month.”

“So let’s get you there, then.” Leona decided. “Where is it?”

“It’s, uh.” He finally lifted his head, sheepish. “They’re working on this big project in, well. The Sunset Savanna.”

Well, fuck.

---

He was going to have to go back eventually. At least, that was what he tried to tell himself. He was doing the right thing, doing a favor for Idia like this. And it might be fun. At least it wouldn’t be boring.

Once Idia stopped moping around, anyway. They had gotten a hotel room for the night, and all he was doing was sitting on his bed and staring at his phone, not texting or browsing the internet or anything. Leona felt like he should be worried, but all he could think about was how funny Idia’s hair looked after a shower. He’d never thought about what magic curse fire looks like when it gets wet.

“You’re gonna stare a hole in that thing.” He finally remarked.

“I’m trying to figure out what to tell Ortho.” Idia mumbled. “He’s starting his junior year soon and I don’t want him to think he needs to come and look after me.”

“So just tell him that.” Leona yawned. He took up a familiar pose lounging on his own bed, staring lazily in Idia’s direction. “He’ll listen to you, at least.”

“Have you met Ortho?” Idia scoffed. “Half the time I have no clue what’s going through his head, and I’m the one who made him.”

“He trusts you, though.” If there was one thing Leona was sure of, it was that. He’d seen the way they both doted on each other. If Idia said he needed space, Ortho would give it to him.

Idia sighed, but he didn’t say anything. After a few minutes, he finally unlocked his phone and typed something out.

“There, it’s done.” He stood and tossed his phone back on the bed. “Now I’m gonna do my dailies and go the fuck to sleep.”

“That’s a nerd thing, right? Sounds like a nerd thing.”

“Dailies. Daily tasks you can do for extra rewards in-game. I’ve only got a trackpad though, so I’ll have to do it with one of the braindead jobs that don’t require a mouse. DPS it is.”

“I wasn’t asking for an explanation.” Leona groaned, but he filed away the info for later. Just in case he needed it. Peeking one eye open, he glanced into Idia’s open suitcase as he rummaged around for his laptop. He was a little surprised to see it actually had clothes in it, mostly, but a couple board games and a chessboard had been stuffed in there, too.

The chessboard seemed familiar, and after a moment, it struck him. It was the one he’d given Idia for his birthday. The pieces must’ve been stored away in the little blue velvet pouch that had been taped to it.

“You actually kept that old thing?”

“Huh?” Idia looked up at him, then followed his gaze to the chessboard. “Well, yeah. It’s a nice chess set.”

After a moment, a familiar toothy grin appeared on his face. “Aww, are you embarrassed or something? You don’t like that I’m still carrying around evidence of your deredere side?”

“Shut up. I just thought you said it was too fancy to play with.”

“It is, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want it.” He faced away from Leona, the ends of his hair turning pink. “I didn’t get a lot of time to pack. I just grabbed whatever important stuff I had.”

Important. Out of all the games, merch and personal belongings Idia had left behind, he’d decided that that chess set was important enough to keep with him. Leona didn’t know what to think about it. He couldn’t tell if he was feeling flattered or sick.

He rolled over, facing the wall, staring at the slowly blinking thermostat. “What a waste. You coulda used that room for your clown suit.” He laughed.

Idia threw a pillow at him.

---

Five Years Ago

Leona woke with a start. It took a moment to decipher where he was as his eyes adjusted to the dark. Nearby shelves were covered in empty glass containers and lab equipment, and the soft surface beneath him felt like the old futon they had dragged in here for a makeshift break area.

He must be in the overflow lab that their group had taken over for their portal project. No wonder he hadn’t recognized it, he had never fallen asleep in here before. Groaning, he sat up. Something soft had been draped across his chest, and when he pulled it away from himself, he was surprised to see the familiar patterns on Idia’s hoodie.

“Oh, good morning. Or evening? Oh, no, wait, it is morning. It’s 3AM.”

The boy in question sat at a lab table behind him, typing away with only the blue light of his high-tech laptop for illumination.

“You’re gonna ruin your pathetic little herbivore eyes.” Leona remarked.

“Shows what you know. My last eye test said I had 20/20 vision.” Idia grinned smugly, but he didn’t look away from his screen.

“Why didn’t any of you wake me up?” Leona asked. He remembered what had happened, now, he had dozed off in the middle of Azul telling them about his latest “acquisition” of dangerous (and probably illegal, not that he cared) materials.

“Yuu told us you haven’t left in like three days.” Idia answered. “So we thought you needed the rest.”

“How the fuck would they know that?” He grumbled. Standing, he let out a long yawn to cover up how annoyed he felt. Figures that Yuu would still be butting into his business, even though they were barely talking anymore.

“They’re here almost as much as you are, and no offense, but you kinda stink. You should go back to your dorm and take a shower.”

“What a waste of time.” Leona sighed. He balled up Idia’s hoodie and tossed it towards him.

“Hey!” Idia yelped when it slapped against his face. “Fine, if you want something to do, check these measurements for me. You have to promise to leave after this, though.”

He slid a few papers across the table. Leona picked them up, scanning over them.

“You’ve been here a longass time, too.”

“Not as long as you. I got some sleep yesterday afternoon. These are peak work hours for me.”

“Weirdo.” Leona picked up a pen and circled two spots. “Go over these again. They’re close, but they could be more precise.”

“Huh? You can read that when it’s this dark?” Idia looked up from his screen, confused.

“Beastman, remember?” Leona tapped the side of his head beside his left eye. “I can see everything in here.”

A weird smile crept across Idia’s face. Leona felt a shiver go up his spine. “Just like a kittycat~” He crooned.

“Call me that again and you’re fucking dead.” Leona growled, tossing the papers back on the table. Idia chuckled, smiling at him knowingly. “What’s so damn funny?”

“You still think I’m scared of you.” Idia propped his head up on his hand, still grinning. It was infuriating. “We all know you’re a sweetheart, deep down.”

Leona huffed. “Don’t go telling everyone. I’ve got a reputation to uphold.”

“Why not? Your popularity would skyrocket if your moe side was public knowledge.”

“Whatever fucking nerd thing you just said to me, I don’t care. I don’t want to be popular.” Leona growled.

“Yeah, I get it.” Idia turned back to his screen. “Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.”

Leona frowned. Idia was just going to… Wave him off like that? Acting all smug, like he had won some game they were playing? He couldn’t just take that lying down.

So he snatched the laptop, slapped it shut, and tossed it on the futon out of Idia’s reach.

“H-Hey!” Idia squeaked.

“Oh, damn. Sure is dark in here.” Leona said. “Shame about your sad little herbivore eyes.”

“First of all, humans are omnivores,” Idia huffed, stumbling out of his chair. He glared in Leona’s general direction. “Second, you’re an asshole, and third, I can see your eyes just fine, kittycat.”

“Fat lot of good that’s gonna do you.” Leona taunted. “What, you gonna fight me?”

Idia leapt at him, Leona sidestepped him easily, watching him stumble into the back of the futon. Then he reached out and grabbed a fistful of Idia’s hair, not pulling it, just holding it.

“Let go of me, you-!”

“Naaaaw.” Leona tugged at his hair, but not too hard. He wanted to annoy Idia, not actually hurt him. The flames crackled in his fist irritably, transitioning into a red hue at the tips. Leona knew from the times Vil had fussed over Idia’s hair that it couldn’t burn him, but it still felt warm in his hand.

He shouldn’t have been focusing so much on that, though, because Idia grasped his own hair like a rope and jerked him forward, jumping out of the way at the last second.

Leona rolled over the back of the futon, landing with a surprised yell on the seat. He heard the laptop fall and slide across the floor of the lab to god-knows-where. Idia yelped in pain too, and he looked up to realize that he was still pulling on a fistful of blue hair.

“Owowowow! What the fuck, Leona!” Idia hissed. The pained look on his face jolted him back to his senses. He let the mass of hair go, and Idia bundled it up in his arms, stroking it like a sad animal.

The sight was bizarre enough to make Leona laugh, despite the guilty feeling in his chest.

“I’m glad my pain is so funny to you.” Idia grumbled. “Now will you please leave me alone?”

“Why would I do that, when it’s so fun to mess with you?” He replied, gazing backwards up at him. Idia could only barely see his shit-eating grin in the glow of his hair. He was pouting.

“I thought we were friends.” Idia sighed.

Leona felt something grip his heart painfully.

Idia was joking, he knew, but some little shard of doubt had begun to jab into his skin. Idia… was a friend, right? There weren’t a lot of people Leona felt he could say that about. Ruggie, sure. They understood each other in a way that other people didn’t, despite the differences in their personalities and upbringing. Jack, sure. He was a good kid who worked hard, and he was entertaining to have around. Epel, probably. He was funny, and his passion helped keep everyone else motivated.

Yuu? Leona… Wasn’t so sure about that anymore. He was here to help them, but he knew that the way they were ignoring each other was making everyone uncomfortable. He wasn’t sure if he should apologize, still. Or if he would ever get the chance to.

But that uncertainty was bearable, at least with Yuu. Even if they never made up, Leona could still be proud of how hard he was working to get them home.

The thought of Idia ever not thinking of him has a friend made him sick, though. And he still didn’t know why.

“…Sorry.” He said. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Idia gave him a small, soft smile. “It’s fine. It was dumb of me to try and fight you in the dark.” He leaned closer, trying to get a better look at him. “You’re okay, right?”

Idia’s pale skin looked almost ethereal, framed by the soft blue flame of his hair. Reflections shimmered in his concerned eyes and on his lips.

Leona thought he looked like a creature from a storybook, emerging from the dark forest to spirit him away to the depths of hell. If he didn’t already know what faeries looked like, he would swear that Idia was one.

“You’re beautiful.” Leona breathed.

Idia’s eyes blew wide. He tried to step back, but Leona stopped him with a touch to his cheek. Idia stared down into his upside-down eyes, searching for something. Maybe an escape.

“…I’m not.” Idia said. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“No.”

“You’re a jerk. You’re a mean kittycat.” Idia whispered, leaning closer. “And you’re a liar, too.”

“I’m not lyin’.” Leona replied.

“Then say it again. Convince me this time.” Idia’s lips hovered over his. Leona felt the warmth of his breath, of his hair spilling over the back of the futon and covering them like a curtain.

“You’re beautiful. Beautiful. Beautiful. Beauti-”

Before he could say it again, Idia silenced him with his lips.

Leona gasped into his mouth, pushing himself up to kiss him back. He licked at Idia’s lips to coax them open, slipping his tongue inside. Idia tried to keep up, but Leona could tell that he didn’t really know what to do. But that was fine, he could teach him.

Leona pushed himself up on his knees and broke away for just a moment to turn and face him. Idia was back on him again in a second, a little more confident his time. His hands found their way to the back of Leona’s neck, fingers tangling in his dark hair.

Leona let him own hands settle on Idia’s waist. He felt their hearts pounding in sync, only separated by a few inches of flesh and ribs. One of Idia’s teeth nicked his lips, but he ignored it.

“Beautiful.” Leona murmured against his lips. Idia whined in protest, but he would have to deal with it. He would say it as much as he needed to, until Idia believed it.

He wanted Idia to believe it. He wanted to say hundreds, no, thousands of nice things to Idia, over and over again, and he wanted him to believe every word.

Leona knew he could never make up for all the things that had hurt him, but he wanted to try. At the very least, he wanted Idia to know that he was worth that much effort.

---

“Leona? Why are you still here?”

Leona blinked awake, disoriented by the bright light coming through the open door. Yuu stood at the threshold, arms crossed, frowning.

Wait, why was he asleep in the lab again? He racked his brain, trying to piece together the events of last night-

Oh, right. He had kissed Idia. Had he kissed Idia? He remembered that they had made out for a while on the futon, until the other boy suddenly pulled away from him and stared at him with wide, terrified eyes.

“I-I have to go.” He’d said, pulling his pinkening hair around his face to hide his expression. Then Idia stood and ran out of the room, leaving a stunned beastman behind.

Or had that been a dream? Leona looked down and saw that the hoodie was still draped over his lap.

“I told Idia to send you home when you woke up. Geez, don’t tell me he just left you here?”

“Did he?” Leona mumbled. His tongue darted out to lick his lips. He tasted dried blood.

“He left all his stuff. Wait, is that his laptop?” Yuu noticed the device under the table where their latest prototype was laid out and crawled underneath to retrieve it. “Why’s it all the way over here?”

“Who knows?” Leona lied. “I slept through the whole night, I’m fine.”

“Well, I don’t think you’re fine.” They marched around the futon with the laptop, reaching out as they passed to flick him in the forehead. “Go back to Savanaclaw and take a damn shower. Ruggie’s starting to get worried about you, y’know.”

“Fine, mom.” Leona put up a front of annoyance, but he couldn’t help the relief he was feeling now that they were talking to him again. Even if it was just to scold him.

They even smiled at him, a little, as they tidied up Idia’s stuff. “Your magic math or whatever will still be here after you’ve had a nice break, Leona.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll see ya later.”

Satisfied, Leona stepped out into the fresh air of the open hallway. He took a deep breath, some of the fog from his head finally clearing.

But before he started making his way back to his dorm, he took one last glance out at the empty courtyard, searching for a head of bright blue hair. He tried not to be too disappointed when he didn’t see it.

---

Leona could recall every detail of that moment, down to the little fluffballs of fiber that had fallen off Idia’s shirt and gotten caught in his braids. He had gone over it so many times, searching for a reason why Idia had left. Why they had never talked about it afterwards. When they met in the lab the next day, he’d waited for Idia to ask about it. Instead, they’d just slipped back into one of their usual conversations about the project or chess or some anime episode Idia had seen or something.

Pushing it will just scare him away. Leona had thought, but he knew, deep down, that wasn’t true. It used to be, before S.T.Y.X. Before all of them had found out his worst secrets. Idia had already confronted and bested so much worse than this, and Leona had, too. So why was it so much harder to deal with?

The most frustrating thing was that he wasn’t even sure when or why he’d developed feelings for Idia. Maybe it had been at Ramshackle dorm, where they’d played chess while Yuu and the others screamed over videogames in the background.

Maybe it had been one of those many all-nighters they spent together, talking about dry tech stuff until everyone else left and their conversations shifted into something more intimate. Something dark and tranquilizing, something that their friends would never understand.

Maybe it had been during that fight in the Underworld, when he looked into Idia’s eyes and thought Oh. He already knows this isn’t going to work. He just wants to choose the way he dies. Like me.

That understanding had bonded them, somehow. The others had noticed that Leona was nicer to Idia than he was to other people, but they had never gotten the real reason why. They didn’t know about the morbid jokes the two of them told when they were alone, all so they could just feel that cathartic darkness wash over them.

They could find comfort in the fact that they weren’t alone. They could think, “Maybe we aren’t crazy. Maybe the world is just unfair, and we’ve drawn the short straw.”

Leona had missed that, but he didn’t know if Idia did, too. And without their misery to bind them, what exactly were they?

---

Idia's robot brother: Leona Kingscholar!

Have you abducted my brother?!

Leona: well if it aint the brobot

idias fine calm tf down

Idia's robot brother: Then why isn’t he answering my messages!!!

Leona: hes dealin with stuff ok

ill tell him to shoot you a text

Idia's robot brother: I demand proof that he’s unharmed, you normie scum!

Leona: uuuuuuuuuuuggggh y r u like this

You sent a file “ransomphoto.png”

Idia's robot brother: Fine, I’ll accept this, but only because he looks like he’s enjoying his dailies.

I’ll assume your tasteless filename is a joke.

Leona: sweet ive escaped robocops wrath for another day

Idia's robot brother: I’m not a cop, don’t insult me like that.

But he is okay, right?

He’s not sad, is he?

Leona: u sound like a mom tryin to keep her kid from gettin bullied

hes kinda down but i think weve both seen way worse

hell get through it

just dont murder your parents or anything aight

Idia's robot brother: Okay but they’re on thin fucking ice.

They’re not MY parents anyway, they treat me more like ‘Idia’s project’.

He’s the only one who sees me as family.

Leona: damn that’s the saddest shit i ever did read

Idia's robot brother: Oh, I don’t really mind.

They’re awful people, I don’t want them as parents.

Leona: ok cool

fuck em then

*thumbs up emoji*

Idia's robot brother: Fuck ‘em!

*thumbs up emoji*

Leona: where did u learn to say fuck btw

and read chatspeak

Idia's robot brother: Yuu taught me.

They did it to prank Idia.

Leona: i cant believe how not surprised i am by that

Idia's robot brother: Also I have access to the entire internet at all times.

Leona: sounds like hell

Idia's robot brother: It is!

I had to create custom firewalls to hide all the beheading videos and illegal pornography.

Leona: god its a miracle ur not way more fucked up than u already are

Idia's robot brother: It really is, isn’t it?

I have my big brother to thank for that!

I have other important friends too, but he was the one who cared for me when I was just a little baby AI.

So you had better take good care of him, okay?

I know you will, since you inexplicably seem to be fonder of him than you are of other people.

Leona: whoa whoa whoa where r u gettin that from

Idia's robot brother: It’s obvious to anyone with a modicum of emotional intelligence.

So everyone but my brother, basically.

Leona: boom roasted

kind of a mean thing to say tho ngl

Idia's robot brother: It’s not mean if it’s the truth.

I am well aware of Idia’s shortcomings, believe me.

That’s why I want him to spend time with people who will help him overcome them!

I think you might be one of them, Leona Kingscholar!

Leona: u think i can help ur bro improve himself?

so did he program u to be that stupid or was the ai/soul-merging to blame for that

Idia's robot brother: Joke all you like, but all our friends agree with me!

“He’s surprisingly insightful. Shame about his awful personality.” – Jamil Viper

“I would never want Leona as a business rival. He would raze my empire to the ground, and probably steal my spouse while he’s at it.” – Azul Ashengrotto

“He knows exactly how to get under my skin. Eventually, his luck is going to run out. I hope I’m there to see it.” – Malleus Draconia

Leona: wtf did u survey ppl about me

y r all of those so backhanded

Idia's robot brother: I think they’re very good character assessments!

You’re insightful, you’re charming, and you can easily find the weaknesses of others!

Leona: nvm i take back what i said about u not bein fucked up

u should ask idia for a tuneup next time u see him

Idia's robot brother: I feel quite fine, though.

And quite confident about your abilities!

Yes, I think this will be a great experience for him!

Leona: u just accused me of kidnapping him

Idia's robot brother: That’s all in the past!

Leona: it was literally five minutes ago

Idia's robot brother: Details. ------------------------------

Chapter 2 - Cool

“So what’s this job you got, anyway?”

Idia continued pressing buttons on his little handheld console, but he didn’t seem distracted. He was curled up in Leona’s passenger seat, knees pulled tight to his chest. “It’s a company that builds themed attractions for amusement parks and museums. Y’know, animatronics and ride vehicles and stuff. It’s pretty cool.”

Idia was trying to play it off like it wasn’t a big deal, but from the way he bit his lip, Leona could tell that he was holding back his excitement. He probably didn’t want to come off as annoying as overbearing.

So, Leona decided to indulge him a little. “Oh, right. I guess they’re building something like that back home. It seems like something you’d be into.”

“It’s part tech and part art. Totally up my alley. Theme parks are basically irl videogames, anyway.”

“Huh. I’ve never thought about it that way.” Leona furrowed his brow. “Hey, you ever heard of the Shadowlands?”

“What’s that?” Even as he asked, Idia was already pausing his game and searching online for it.

“This tourist attraction in the Sunset Savanna. I wouldn’t call it a theme park, but it’s… Some kinda park. They’ve got some tacky-ass haunted caves and carnival rides there. People mostly know it for the food.”

“Aw, it’s so cute!” Idia said as he scrolled through the image results. “It’s so cheap and kitschy, but you can tell they put a lot of love into the decorations. How’d you find out about this place?”

“Everyone knows it. It used to be this really creepy area that nobody wanted to go to, when I was a cub. But then somebody got the bright idea to buy up all that cheap land and turn it into a little tourist trap.”

“I gotta check it out sometime.” Idia said, grinning in excitement. “I love this. Look at this food stand, they made it look like an elephant skeleton! And one of the haunted caves has real lava running through it!”

“…It’s on the way to the city, y’know.” Leona coughed. “We could stop there, if you want.”

“Oh hell yes.” Idia was practically bouncing in his seat. “This is already giving me so many ideas. It’d be fun to pitch an upgrade to their theming someday.”

Leona turned his face just enough that Idia couldn’t see him smiling. It was good to know that he still had so much passion for stuff like this. He wouldn’t be Idia without it.

They settled into a comfortable silence after that. Idia scrolled through the pictures for awhile before returning to his game. They’d done this a lot, back at school. They’d take a break at the same time and Leona would doze off to the sound of games beeping and booping.

Until, out of the blue, Idia asked: “What have you been up to? Besides driving around, I mean.”

“Nothing.”

“Ah, I get it. Top secret royal duties and stuff, huh?”

“Don’t have those. Literally, I’ve been doing nothing.”

“Really?” Idia glanced over at him. “Nothing at all?”

“Not since I dropped out.” Leona answered, trying not to sound too bitter. “I tried, for a little while. Spent a whole year putting together this plan for reforming our welfare programs, but Falena wouldn’t even look at it. The rich fucks in the Senate wouldn’t like it.”

“Oof. What is it with rich people hoarding a bunch of gold they’ll never be able to spend? It’s like holding onto all your elixirs for when you ‘need’ them and then never using them.” Idia pouted. “But I guess I can’t talk, since I am rich people.”

“Are you really? I thought getting disowned usually meant no more money.”

“I’ve still got my share of the royalties from the portal patent. Honestly, I’m making enough from that right now that I don’t even need this job.”

“Huh.” Leona hadn’t checked on that in ages, but he assumed that he still had a good chunk of royalties lying around as well. “Still, you’re not guillotine-levels of rich anymore, unlike me. So congrats on that.”

“Hooray, I escaped the wrath of the masses.” Idia chuckled. “But it sucks that they wouldn’t look at your plan. I bet it was good. Maybe you should give it to a whistleblower, then everyone will at least know you tried. They might even let you keep your head.”

“I didn’t do it for that.” Leona grumbled. “I just got tired of listening to Ruggie complain all the time.”

“Yeah, sure, that’s why.” Idia smirked at him, and Leona rolled his eyes.

“Quit lookin’ so smug.”

“Smug? I’m not smug at all.” Idia returned to his game, still smiling. “You know, you could try writing.”

Leona glanced at him like he was crazy. “Are you high or something?”

“You’d be good at it! I’ve got tons of screenshots of funny things you’ve texted me. Yuu thinks you’re funny, too.”

“Yuu still thinks memes from 10 years ago are funny.”

“And you think I don’t know how to take a compliment.” Idia shook his head. “If comedy was a stat, yours would be maxed out.”

“Yeah, because I’m a retired clown. This van is so big because I got sick of riding in tiny cars with all the other clowns.”

Idia giggled. The sheepish smile he gave Leona made his heart skip a beat.

“Ya see? People would like that. You could start a blog. Or a youtube channel or something.”

“…I think you’re overestimating how much people care about what I have to say.” He grumbled.

“I care! Ooh, you could review bad movies or something and roast the shit out of them! I’d love to hear your take on Creepy Hollow!”

“I thought you liked that movie.”

“I do, it owns. But real horror movie fans know that sometimes the best horror is cheap, trashy horror. Or, you’re good at improv, you could be a streamer-”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it. If I wanted to scream into the void of the internet, I’d just play one of your multiplayer games.”

---

“I didn’t know you smoked.” Idia said. He was walking out of the gas station they’d stopped at, arms full of snacks and a cup of some radioactive green slurpee in his hand. Leona just looked at him, flatly, taking another deliberate puff.

“Don’t get on my case about it. I’m gonna die of something, eventually.”

He was testing the waters. But Idia’s face didn’t betray any reaction, negative or positive. He just shook his head and walked around the front of the parked RV to put the snacks away inside.

Leona tossed the barely-burned cigarette to the ground, annoyed.

His phone buzzed in his pocket and, looking for a distraction, he pulled it out and immediately regretted it.

It was Falena.

Right, he’d promised Ruggie that he’d call sometime today. Falena must’ve gotten tired of waiting. He should ignore it, but he knew that his brother would just keep calling until he picked up.

Before he answered, he walked some distance away from the RV so Idia wouldn’t overhear him.

“What do you want.”

“Where the hell are you?” Falena demanded.

“A gas station.”

“You know what I mean, Leona. You’ve had plenty of time to work out your little temper tantrum. Come home, now.”

“Oh, you think this is a temper tantrum?” Leona scoffed. “I’m a fucking adult, Falena. I can go wherever I want, whenever I want.”

“Not when you’re a prince, you can’t.”

“So when I have real ideas for how to run the country I’m just a figurehead, but when you want to control my life I suddenly have princely responsibilities. Right, got it. I see how it is.”

Falena sighed. Leona could picture him pinching the bridge of his nose in irritation. “Don’t make me have to be the bad guy, Leona. I hate doing that.”

“Coulda fooled me.” He snapped. “Look, if it’ll get you off my case, I’m already heading back. But it’s not because of your bullshit.”

“Good. When are you going to be here?”

“Who knows. Might be a week. Might be a month. Might drive into the ocean and start a new life as a merman.” Leona deadpanned.

“Very funny. This is childish. All I’m asking you is to give it some thought and-”

A loud rev and a screeching sound interrupted the rest of Falena’s sentence. Leona looked up just in time to see a beat-up sedan scraping against the back of the RV, leaving a huge gash behind.

“What the fuck?!” He yelled.

“Leona? What’s happening?”

“Some fucker just hit my van.” He growled. “Look, we’re done here. I gotta deal with this.”

“Hey! We are not done-”

Leona hung up on him. He stomped over to where the sedan had stopped, fur bristling with rage.

“What the fuck, asshole! I was parked!”

The driver of the sedan opened his door and stood up, glaring at him over the top of the car. He had perky canine ears that were already pulled back in irritation. “Calm down, dude, it was an accident.”

“Accident? What kind of idiot are you? You came barreling in here at like 60 miles an hour, you jackass!”

“Maybe your stupid RV is too goddamn big.” The other man said. The other passengers in his car were getting out now, another beastman and a human woman. “If it was a normal car, I wouldn’ta hit it.”

“What the hell kind of logic is that?!”

“Chill out.” The second man shrugged, like this was just a dumb thing that was above his notice. “Our car’s in worse shape than yours.”

Leona gaped at them. He couldn’t believe the audacity of these people. “You know what? This isn’t even worth it. Give me your insurance.”

“Why should I?” The driver asked. “You come up to me right out the gate screaming at me, and I barely scratched you. Fix it yourself, you look rich enough.”

Leona snarled and took a step forward, his tail lashing wildly behind him.

“Oh, this guy thinks he’s tough.” The second man laughed.

“Justin. Cut it out.” The woman said to the driver. She seemed more embarrassed than anything. “Just give him your insurance.”

“Leave this to us guys, babe. You wouldn’t get it.”

“Don’t talk to her like that. Your girlfriend’s the only one of you with any goddamn sense.” Leona growled. “You have no idea who you’re fucking with right now.”

“Try me, douchebag.”

Leona slapped his palm on the trunk of the sedan and the lid instantly dissolved into sand. The second man, the one closest to him, yelped in surprise and jumped back.

“Oh shit, he’s a mage!”

“The fuck are you doing to my car?!” The driver yelled, marching angrily towards Leona.

“Justin!” The woman said, much more urgently this time.

“Leona.”

Somebody touched his arm. Leona turned sharply towards them, startled. Idia was there, staring at him with wide eyes.

“Stop it. You’re just drawing a bunch of aggro without a healer to back you up.”

“This ain’t the time for your cute little video game references, Idia.” Leona growled, but the rage he’d been feeling was already gone. Idia just shook his head.

His hand still on Leona’s arm, he addressed the angry driver. “Look, I’m sorry about my friend. He got carried away. But you are the one who hit us, so maybe you shouldn’t be trying to start fights with guys like him. Right now you’re like a level 1 slime mob trying to take on the final boss.”

“And now you gotta hide behind your buddy. Coward.” The driver said to Leona. But then the human woman stepped between them, already holding a pencil and a pad of post-its in her hand.

“Justin, I swear to god, if you don’t shut up I am going to leave you here and walk home.” She hissed at him. Justin stared at her in disbelief as she scribbled their info down.

She held it out to Idia when she was done. “Here. I’m sorry about these idiots.”

“Thanks. We’re sorry about all this too.” Idia elbowed Leona. “Right?”

“I’m sorry your boyfriend was dropped on his head as a cub.” Idia sighed at him in exasperation.

“Whatever, that’s good enough.” The woman said. She turned and walked back to the car, dragging Justin with her.

---

“That sure was something.” Idia mumbled when they were finally back in the RV.

“Why did you stop me? I could’ve taken that chump.” Leona huffed as he sat back in the driver’s seat.

“And then gotten arrested for murder. You looked like you were ready to tear his throat out, Leona.”

“Hmph. He would’ve deserved it.” Leona grumpily rested his chin on the steering wheel, waiting for Idia to finish putting the snacks away and get back in his seat.

“Probably, yeah, but that was low-quality bait. You’re better than that.” He slid back in next to Leona, tearing open one of the bags of chips.

“…You didn’t seem scared at all.” Leona realized. “You just walked up and handled it.”

“Uh, yeah.” Idia crunched down on a potato chip. “Somebody had to.”

“You never woulda been able to do that when we were at school.” Leona sat up, looking at him.

“Yeah, I’ve been working on my DEF and RES.” Idia laughed. “I can handle a stupid little parking lot fight with some weak NPCs.”

“…That was cool.” Leona said, under his breath. “You’re cool, Idia.”

Idia froze, another chip halfway to his mouth. His hair was already starting to turn pink.

“I-I’m not.”

“Yeah, you are.” Idia squirmed, hiding his face behind his hands. Like Leona couldn’t tell how flattered and sheepish he was feeling from the pink hair. “You’ve always been cool.”

“B-by the way,” Idia began, trying to deflect, “What’s that big box under your seat? I thought it was a mini-fridge at first, but it has a lock.”

Leona felt a chill go down his spine.

“…Ruggie brought it.” He said, trying to keep his voice even. “He kept his weed in it so we wouldn’t get caught by customs.”

“Is there, uh.” Idia peeked through his fingers at him. “Any left in there?”

“Doubt it. And it’s been like four years, it’d probably be gross as hell. I forgot the combination for it, anyway.” He lied.

“Damn.” Idia grumble, slumping into his seat.

Leona couldn’t help but laugh at his pouting face. “Don’t look so disappointed. You smoke weed now?”

“It helps with my anxiety.” Idia admitted, fiddling with the ties on his hoodie.

“We can find someone to buy from on the way.”

“Really? It’s a pain in the ass to get it on the Island of Woe, I have to get it delivered through the dark web.”

“You talk about shit like the dark web and you still don’t think you’re cool.” Leona shook his head sadly.

“You’ve obviously never been on the dark web if you think it’s cool, it’s just a bunch of middle-aged perverts selling mushrooms out of their sheds.”

---

Leona: yo yuu

u talked to idia lately

plantmuncher dragonfucker: yeah, like two days ago?

why? dont you have his number too?

Leona: ye thats not it

hes stayin w/ me rn

plantmuncher dragonfucker: in the RV???????

why????????????????

Leona: whats with all the ?s

is it that weird he would be w/ me

and it’s a van

plantmuncher dragonfucker: it’s a gd RV leona it’s massive

vans don’t have LOFTS in them

Leona: semantics

anyway i cant tell u why it’s a kinda sensitive issue

but i think hed like it if u reached out to him

plantmuncher dragonfucker: awwww

you’re such a nice guy, leona

Leona: stfu no im not

plantmuncher dragonfucker: top-tier tsundere

Leona: stop talking like him i need to understand at least one of you

plantmuncher dragonfucker: it means you pretend like you don’t care but deep down you really do

Leona: i wasnt asking for an explanation

plantmuncher dragonfucker: youre going to need them if idia is staying with you

honestly sometimes he gets too into it for even me to decipher

like when he busts out the raid terminology

who fucking plays mmos just to memorize strats with names like “stario kart deathwall jenga stack skip”

I just wanna dress up my catgirl in cute outfits and gpose in a nice rp venue

Leona: i dont know what half of those fucking words r

r u gonna text him or not

plantmuncher dragonfucker: of course I will!

Im guessing he’s having one of those moods, huh?

Where he feels awful but he doesn’t want to tell anyone bc he thinks he’s being a burden :(

Leona: not a mood, just some pretty shitty stuff happening

plantmuncher dragonfucker: oh shit

did his parents do something

Leona: i told u im not telling u

plantmuncher dragonfucker: so they did. ugh

what the fuck is wrong with them

hes such a sweet guy and they treat him so bad

Leona: beats me

some ppl dont deserve kids

plantmuncher dragonfucker: fr fr

like my mom lol

i invited him to grind FATEs w/ my free company tomorrow night, we’ll hang out in vc then

Leona: like i said, dont know what that means, gonna assume its good

plantmuncher dragonfucker: ill invite lilia too, that’ll cheer him up

mal is too busy working tho :(

ill have to make it up to him later <3

Leona: brb throwing up

plantmuncher dragonfucker: you guys would like each other if you got over yourselves

and yes I mean him too, i know how he is believe me

Leona: i dont need to get over anything

i question ur taste more and more every day

plantmuncher dragonfucker: i guess you wont be very happy to see what im sending you in the mail then

Leona: oh my god

ur getting married arent u

fuck u so much

plantmuncher dragonfucker: loooooooool

now that I think of it you don’t have a mailbox rn so I might as well ask you here

come to my wedding leona!!! itll be so fun!!!

it’s an open bar!!!!!!! marrying rich rules!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Leona: arent u a lil young for this

plantmuncher dragonfucker: im 3 years older than you.

and he’s 269.

Leona: nice

plantmuncher dragonfucker: nice

Leona: ofc u would know exactly how fucking old he is

just tell me whats the date

im only going bc i know hell be fucking furious when he sees me in the audience

plantmuncher dragonfucker: you’d be surprised! he’s mellowed out a lot since then

he might even be happy to see you

Leona: doubt it

plantmuncher dragonfucker: it’s October 31st of next year, so it’s a ways off.

Leona: a halloween wedding huh

i guess u do have taste

plantmuncher dragonfucker: of course I do <3

we’re gonna go all-out on goth shit

all black attire required

maximum spoopage

Leona: congrats i cant wait to watch the bloodbath

ur horrible face will give everyone two heart attacks instead of just the one

ill bring mirrored sunglasses for when ur walking down the aisle

im hoping theyll reflect ur deathgaze back on u like medusa

plantmuncher dragonfucker: joke’s on you bitch ill wear sunglasses too

we can ping-pong the death magic back and forth until it bounces off one of us weird and hits a bird or something

Leona: bet

plantmuncher dragonfucker: hey, don’t worry too much about idia

Leona: im not worried

plantmuncher dragonfucker: yes you are. you only text me so we can roast each other ruthlessly and reinforce our eternal bond of friendship

you don’t talk about other people unless I bring them up

Leona: that cant be right

ur full of shit

plantmuncher dragonfucker: deny it all you want, you’re not as mysterious as you think you are

look I bet he’s really glad you care

but he’s been doing a lot better over the past few years, so you don’t need to baby him

just be there for him when he needs it

Leona: thx for the advice love guru

plantmuncher dragonfucker: I never said anything about love idiot

haha gotcha

Leona: fuck

plantmuncher dragonfucker: btw do you still have me saved as “plantmuncher dragonfucker” in your phone

Leona: ye

plantmuncher dragonfucker: change it or ill photoshop your face onto pictures of cute cats and post them to magicam

I have vil in my camp and he’s going to like them all, it’s guaranteed to go viral

Leona: not until u stop munching plants and fucking dragons

plantmuncher dragonfucker: NEVER

------------------------------

Chapter 3 - Overwhelmed

It only took an hour or two of asking around to find out where to get weed in the next city. Idia stowed it away in the massive pockets of his hoodie, already grinning in anticipation.

“You don’t get weird when you’re high, do you?”

“Not really. I wasn’t joking about it being for anxiety.”

“Good to know.” Leona really wouldn’t have minded, as long as he was enjoying himself.

They were nearly at the border of the Kingdom of Heroes, now, about to cross into the Shaftlands. They had a whole month, but if they hurried, they could get back in about two weeks.

Leona… Didn’t want to do that. The longer he could avoid the Sunset Savanna, the better. But Idia probably wanted to get there as soon as possible. He would need time to find an apartment, get furniture, get all his stuff in order…

For now, though, they were free. They still had time. He still had time.

They’d come to the downtown area for this, ending up on a little shopping street that locals had called “sketchy”, but Leona suspected they actually meant “poor”. All the stores were grungy little mom-and-pop affairs fitted into worn out buildings that had probably been around for over a hundred years. Some kids were playing basketball on a side street, and they passed a tiny taco stand where an ancient boombox was blasting music into the street. It still sounded pretty good. Even the drug dealer had been pleasant to them. Maybe a little too pleasant.

This place was downright cozy in comparison to the slums he’d visited after becoming friends with Ruggie.

Beside him, Idia’s steps faltered for a moment. Leona turned to catch him looking at a store with a large display of comics and board games in the window. He looked up at the cheap sign hanging over the window, it read “Kevin’s Komix & Games”.

“You wanna go in?” He asked.

“W-We don’t have to.” Idia said, ducking into his hoodie to hide his face.

Leona rolled his eyes. Honestly, what did he think he was gonna do? Shove him in a locker? He walked past Idia and opened the door himself, striding into the overly air-conditioned little storefront.

The cashier (Kevin, maybe?) gave him a welcoming wave, then returned to the trading cards he was putting away in a glass case near the front. Leona looked around at the small room. The shelves were neat and tidy, all the latest issues out on display and the older stuff in long boxes on a nearby table. One of the shelves was entirely board games and tabletop rpgs. In the back, there was just enough room for a rack of figurines and a few little tables where some games were already set up.

It only took Leona a moment to see the whole thing, and when he turned around Idia already had his arms loaded up with board games and a stack of half a dozen comics.

He stared at Leona. “I’m supporting local businesses.”

“I didn’t say anything.” But Leona felt his face twitch into a smile, just for a second.

“I need to replace the stuff I had to leave at home, okay?” Idia huffed, bringing his purchases up to the glass counter.

Leona hung back, a tiny spinning rack of postcard ads and little zines on the other end of the counter catching his attention. He spun it around idly, until he noticed that one of the cards had today’s date on it. Curious, he picked it up. A cute little mascot character was printed on it, along with photos of people in various costumes.

“10th Annual CON-ACLYSM Pop Culture Convention! One weekend only!

Games! Cosplay! Panels! Shows! Maid Cafes!

Come join us to celebrate 10 YEARS of fun and fandom!”

“Uh-oh.” Leona said.

“What is it?” Idia asked, walking up with his newly-bought big bag of nerd stuff.

“Looks like we’re gonna be stuck here for another day.” He turned the postcard towards Idia, smirking at the way his face lit up. Damn, it was cute.

---

Okay this probably wasn’t worth it.

Leona didn’t know what he had expected, but it wasn’t hundreds of people carrying around wooden prop weapons and recording absurd little dances in the courtyard outside. Through the glass walls he could see a massive line already forming at all the food trucks, even the one that was just hot dogs. People were staring at him, for some reason. A couple behind them in the registration line had been arguing about which of them was Bulma and which was Vegeta for the past 30 minutes. Leona didn’t know who those people were. When he asked, Idia just said that only a Bulma and a Vegeta would argue about something that stupid.

Overexcited teens chattered loudly in their little cliques, some dude was playing an anime song on a ukelele while a couple girls in costumes sang along, and a rowdy group of guys were screaming over a match of some trading card game like they were watching a knife fight. Idia should have hated this, but when Leona glanced over at him, he was practically vibrating with excitement.

He had the program booklet open in his hand and seemed to be comparing it to the schedule on their website. “Okay, we gotta go to the maid café. The one at 5 would probably be the best, but that means missing out on the ‘LGBTQ+ in Fandom’ panel.”

“Sounds like homophobia.” Leona joked.

“Absolutely.” Idia nodded. “This is the most homophobic thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“Isn’t there one at 3?” Leona asked, leaning over the little booklet. He didn’t really want to go, but Idia seemed really excited for it.

“But that overlaps with the costume contest. If I have to make a choice, I’d rather miss out on the panel.”

“So you were the true homophobe all along.”

“Shut uuuup.” Idia groused, smacking his arm lightly.

Leona only felt truly lost once they had gotten their badges and been dumped out into this sea of nerds. He could barely comprehend some of the stuff going on around him. But Idia expertly navigated the crowded corridors, dragging him along.

Occasionally Idia would spot someone with a cool costume and ask for a picture. Talking to these strangers seemed to come so naturally to him, and Leona could barely believe it.

“Who’s that guy dressed as?” He asked, after Idia got a picture of a man in an impressive robot costume. It had been painted with a realistic patina and even had working lights.

“No idea.” Idia answered. He scrolled through all the pictures he’d taken so far, a complete mis-mash of disparate styles, genres and time periods. A gritty-looking samurai woman, a girl in a gothic lolita dress with enormous pigtails, some character with giant wings that could actually spread out, a superhero with an impressive custom-fitted suit, a fursuit. “I just like costumes that are well-constructed. It helps me come up with ideas for my own.”

Oh, yeah. Idia had always been into that stuff, right? The Halloween of their third year sprung to mind.

“Whatever happened to that knight costume?” Leona asked.

“I had to leave it at home. It was too bulky to take with me.” Idia answered. The happy expression he had been wearing slowly faded. Ah, damn it. “Well, it kinda got the crap beat out of it that year anyway. It was close to falling apart. And it didn’t help that you cut off some of those vines I hand-made.”

“What? I did that?” Leona blinked. He couldn’t remember that at all.

“I tripped over you and they got tangled with your tail. You don’t remember?”

“Man, I sure did get tripped over and stepped on a lot back then.” Leona grumbled.

“You did spend like 90% of your time sleeping on the ground.”

“It was 70% at most.”

In between panels and shows, Idia dragged him to the artist’s alley and exhibitor’s hall. Leona was surprised and kind of impressed by all the carefully crafted artwork and merch. Big companies didn’t put real love into it like these people did. He ended up buying crochet plushies of the meerkat and warthog characters from a cartoon that he knew Cheka liked.

“And you keep trying to convince me you’re not a tsundere.” Idia remarked, smirking. Leona whacked him in the back with the plastic bag he was carrying the plushies in.

People were still looking at him, and he couldn’t figure it out. Leona thought he just stood out, at first, but the longer he was here, seeing what a wide variety of people there were around him, the less sense that made. He’d already passed a half dozen tall, fit, intimidating guys in dark clothes today, and none of them were getting weird looks like he was.

He felt… Out of place here. Like he was intruding on something, and everyone was just too nice to tell him. It was uncomfortable. Idia stopped to talk with one of the artists and he unconsciously tried to hide himself in a dark gap between some booths, out of the way. Was this the way Idia felt all the time?

Across the aisle, he spotted a middle-aged man carrying a giant stuffed cartoon animal under his arm, while a costumed little girl who Leona assumed was his daughter skipped ahead. He made eye contact with the man, and they exchanged a nod of silent understanding.

“Hey. Can I see your keys?” Idia asked, smiling mischievously. Leona raised an eyebrow at him.

“What for?”

“It’s nothing bad, come on.” Idia held his hand out, Leona sighed and dropped the keys in his palm.

After a moment of fiddling, he handed them back. “Here.” Idia said.

Leona’s keys now had an extra acrylic charm clipped to them. Decorated with a cute little drawing of a smirking brunette in a pink dress, it looked completely absurd on his plain keyring.

“The hell is this?” Leona asked, staring at it. Its smug aura mocked him.

“She’s the heroine of Star Rogue. The main character’s love interest.” Idia answered. “You don’t think she looks like your echo fighter?”

“Are you asking if she looks like me? Because no, duh. For starters, she’s a drawing.” Leona huffed.

“I was kidding, of course she doesn’t look like you. But she’s a total tsundere and she’s super snarky.” Idia reached out again to flip the keychain out so it was more visible. “She’s one of the best characters, tbh. Real waifu material. Even the actress who played her in the movie was pretty hot, for 3D.”

Hm. So Idia did like “3D”, sometimes.

“She can be a real flatterer when she wants to be, too…” Idia added under his breath.

“She sounds like an asshole.” Leona remarked. He smirked when he saw Idia’s jaw drop, more offended at that than anything Leona had ever said.

“You wouldn’t be saying that if you’d watched the movie!” Idia protested. “Well, really you should play the game, but we don’t have time for that. But she gets a really good character arc! She starts out as a villain and then her love for the hero redeems her.”

“Isn’t that a spoiler?”

“Spoilers don’t matter. It’s the journey there that matters. And the movie came out like 15 years ago, you should know what happens by now.” Idia said, pouting at him.

---

“How can all of them be sold out?” Leona growled, like he could intimidate the vending machine into conjuring up more drinks. It seemed the only things left were a few waters and some gross-looking lime sodas that he had never seen before in his life.

“It’s always like this at cons, they don’t bother to keep it stocked because they want you to pay $5 for a coke at the concession stand.” Idia explained as he put money into the machine. He ended up getting one of the lime sodas, but when he cracked it open and took a sip he grimaced. “Yuck. This is like the opposite of hydration.”

“Don’t drink it, then.” But Idia ignored him and took another big chug.

There wasn’t a lot of space to take a break in these crowded hallways, so they took up a post against the wall outside one of the panel rooms. It was nice to just people-watch like this, especially in such an indulgently nerdy atmosphere.

“You’re gonna think this is dumb,” Idia said, “But part of the reason I like going to things like this is because I don’t stand out. People here just look at my hair and assume I’m cosplaying a character they don’t recognize. They don’t stare at me or act all weird about it.”

“Yeah, now they’re just starin’ at me because I look like I belong in a biker bar.” Leona remarked, glancing around at the half dozen or so people who were eyeing him warily.

“No, they’re staring at you because you look like a character from this game that’s popular right now.” Idia pulled his phone from his pocket, and after a quick search he held it up to show Leona a picture.

“What the fuck.” He was looking at what could easily be a drawing of himself, just with a neater hairstyle and wearing a fancy kimono.

“Yeah, when his banner was first announced I was like ‘lol Leona is gonna be so pissed’.” Idia flashed him a grin. “His personality is totally different from you, though, so I think it was just a coincidence. You’re a tsundere, he’s the gentlemanly character with a secret dark past.”

“Unbelievable...”

“Hold on.” Leona looked at Idia. His grin had gotten… Worryingly large. “I just had a great idea, brb.”

“Wait, where are you-?!” But Idia ignored him, taking off into the crowded exhibitors’ hall. Leona huffed and settled in to wait for him, cross-legged on the floor.

Idia returned a few minutes later, carrying a large black plastic shopping bag. He reached down to tug at Leona’s arm, rousing him from a half-dazed state. “Come on, let’s go!”

“Go where?”

“The bathroom. You need to get changed.”

---

Leona didn’t feel any less confused once the garment was on him. The style and fit were completely unfamiliar to him. At least there were pants (“Hakama”? Whatever that was.) included, even if they were massive baggy things that might as well have been a skirt.

“I knew it’d look great.” Idia bragged, like dragging someone into a bathroom to put on anime clothes was a totally normal thing to do.

“I look like the top of a broken umbrella.”

“No you don’t. You look like all the other cosplayers here. Better, actually. You could win a contest, but only scrubs enter cosplay contests with store-bought stuff.” Idia rummaged around in the messenger bag he’d been carrying and pulled out a makeup kit.

“You have makeup?”

“I thought something like this might come up.”

“Why would you ever think something like this might come up.”

“You clearly haven’t been to a con before, Leona. You gotta be prepared for anything.” Idia popped open the makeup kit and set it on the counter.

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

Idia ignored him. Brandishing an assortment of brushes, he closed in on Leona. The beastman sighed and closed his eyes, accepting his fate.

It was kind of pleasant, actually, having Idia put makeup on him. The brushes felt soft and cool on his skin. He leaned in a little, eyes still closed, and felt one of Idia’s knuckles brush his cheek accidentally.

Leona hadn’t worn any makeup since that stupid fairy gala. It wasn’t like he hated it, sometimes he even wanted to wear it, but he never had the energy in the mornings to bother with all that.

Maybe Idia would be around for one of those mornings. Maybe he would help him do it.

“Okay, done.” He heard Idia say. Opening his eyes, he glanced sideways at the mirror.

“I don’t look any different.”

“You don’t need much, especially since you already look like the character.” Idia explained as he started putting his stuff away. “Now if you were crossplaying, we’d need to do a lot more prep for that.”

“Do I want to know what that is?”

“Here’s a hint: the ‘cross’ part comes from ‘crossdressing’.”

Leona sighed. “No fucking thanks. I already look weird enough in this.”

“There are a few characters who’d be a good choice for you.” Idia smirked at him. “Buff ladies are pretty popular lately. You’ll get a bunch of obnoxious simps following you around and calling you ‘mommy’ all day, though.”

“If you’re trying to convince me to do it, you’re doing a shitty job.” Leona said.

“Hey, you might like it! You should try it out sometime… Maybe in private.”

Idia was still smirking at him. Oh, he knew exactly what he was doing. Well, two can play at that game.

“Why do you want to get me in women’s clothes so bad, Idia?” Leona laughed. He took a step closer, forcing Idia to back up a little.

“It’s fun to get out of your comfort zone sometimes, isn’t it?” Idia replied, unfazed.

“You know how weird that sounds coming from you?”

“Hm. I guess it does.”

Leona kept moving forward, until the other man’s back was against the wall. Idia didn’t look scared, though. If anything, he looked satisfied. Like this had been his plan all along.

“You’re talking like you have some experience with this ‘crossplay’ thing.” Leona leaned into his space, voice low.

“I’ve done it a couple times.” Idia replied. “Never in public. I did take some pictures, though.”

Idia reached out like he was about to adjust Leona’s costume, but all he did was run his fingers along the edge of his collar, barely brushing against his skin. His hand settled where the fabric overlapped, just beneath Leona’s clavicle, and stayed there.

“I wouldn’t mind seeing those sometime.” Leona said.

Leona placed his hand on the wall beside Idia’s head. For some reason, that was what made his face finally erupt into a furious blush. Huh. He would have to ask about that later.

“I… I wouldn’t mind… showing… you…?” Idia mumbled, his eyes darting between Leona’s face and the arm that he’d braced against the wall.

Maybe it was his predator instincts, but Leona knew when he had struck a killing blow. He cupped Idia’s cheek, more to soothe his nerves than anything. Yellow eyes met his and finally stayed there.

“I bet you look beautiful in them.” Leona said.

Idia drew in a sharp breath. His hand on Leona’s chest curled into a fist, bunching up the fabric of his costume and pulling him forward.

A loud clanging rang out as someone inside a stall kicked their door.

“Oh my GOD would you two get a room already! Nobody wants to hear you fuck in a bathroom!”

Idia’s face went pale, and Leona was pretty sure that his had too. They scrambled to grab their stuff off the counter and ran outside.

---

“So? How’d you like it?”

After hours of following Idia around his convention and getting asked for way too many photos, they had finally gotten tired enough to leave and return to the RV. Idia convinced him to watch Star Rogue on his laptop, the two of them sitting way too close on the loveseat under the loft.

“It was good.” Leona admitted. “I can see why it was so popular. The character writing was pretty solid for a two-hour movie.”

“If you liked that, you should play the game.” Idia said, grinning at him. “You get to spend 30+ hours with them then!”

“Meh, I’ll just watch a Let’s Play.” Leona shrugged. He was messing with him, but it was still funny to watch Idia get mad about it.

“You can’t just watch somebody play Star Rogue! You have to experience it for yourself!”

“I could watch you play Star Rogue.” Leona countered. “How would that work as a compromise?”

Idia reacted exactly like he expected: by overthinking what he was actually saying and interpreting it in the flirtiest way possible. His face and hair both turned a bright, soft pink.

“I’ll watch you play it” -> “I want to watch you play it” -> “I want to spend time with you and see this thing you like”. Idia’s thought process was kind of like an open book to him at this point, and it was cute to watch him go through it.

“…That’d work.” Idia eventually squeaked out. “Y-you’ll have to come visit me once I’m settled in, we can do it then.”

“I was already plannin’ to.” Leona smiled warmly at him.

“G-Guess I’ll have to put together a guest room fit for a prince!” Idia laughed, nervous.

“I used to sleep on the ground, Idia. Voluntarily.”

“O-Oh. Right.” Idia said, unable to meet his eyes.

Idia’s body felt warm against his. The longer they sat on that tiny loveseat, the more he noticed it. But he didn’t hate it. Quite the opposite, actually. He wondered how Idia felt about it.

“…Hey. Can I ask you something?” Leona asked.

“Hm? You wanna know something else about Star Rogue?”

“No. Why’d you kiss me in the lab that one night?”

Idia nearly dropped his laptop.

“D-Don’t just bring up the cringiest moment of my life out of the blue like that!”

“So it was cringey, huh.” Leona lifted an eyebrow.

“You know what I mean! Th-the kiss wasn’t cringey, the way I acted was.” He moved to pull his hair closed like a curtain. Realizing he didn’t have it anymore, he instead hid his face behind his hands. “Trying to act all smooth and flirty, like some normie…”

“And running away?”

“I was… overwhelmed.” Idia whimpered. “Th-that was the first time I ever…” He trailed off, but it wasn’t hard to figure out what he meant.

“I’m not mad about it.” Leona said. “I just wanted to know. Kinda thought I fucked up, but then you turned up the next day and acted like it never happened.”

“Yeah. Sorry.” Idia sat up, gradually pulling his hands from his face. “I wasn’t very good at dealing with… that. I’m still not.”

“You’re telling me that the Idia Shroud didn’t turn into a total playboy once he graduated? What a surprise.” Leona laughed. Idia pouted at him. He closed the laptop and put it back on top of his nearby suitcase.

“It’s not like I didn’t go on any dates! Just, uh, none that led to anything serious.” Idia wasn’t hiding his face anymore, but he still couldn’t look directly at Leona.

“Huh. Well, they must’ve had awful taste if they didn’t want to snatch you up ASAP.”

“You see!” Idia suddenly grew animated, leaning forward into Leona’s space and jabbing a finger in the beastman’s face. “Nobody ever said things like that to me! How was I supposed to date anyone after hearing otome game dialogue like that?”

“I’m not even saying anything that weird.” Leona said, genuinely confused.

“Yes you are! You do! When I make jokes about myself, you’re the only one who takes it seriously. You’re the only one who’s like ‘no, shut up, you’re great actually’. It’s weird!”

“That can’t be right.” Leona scowled. He felt his ears flatten to his head. Had he really been that obvious? This whole time? “Yuu says stuff like that, too.”

“But Yuu is nice to everyone. Because they’re a crazy person and they don’t care if they get an emotional debuff. They just brush it off, like mitigating a tankbuster.” Idia paused, trying to put together his thoughts.

“You’re not. You’re only nice to people when they deserve it. Except for me, for some reason.”

“You do deserve it.”

“Uuuuugh no I don’t! You’re not getting it at all!” Idia sunk in his seat, exasperated. “When stuff like that comes from tsuntsun characters, it’s super effective.”

“So what I’m getting is, I’m such a big jerk that me complimenting you makes you even more embarrassed than usual?”

“It sounds mean when you say it like that, but yeah, basically.”

“You shouldn’t have told me that.” Leona leaned forward, propping his chin up on his palm. “Because now I’m going to do it more.”

“Don’t you dare!”

“Oh Idia, you’re so great.” He said, grinning. “You’re the smartest guy I know. And handsome, too.”

Idia slumped even further off the loveseat, almost on the floor. “You’re going to kill me, Kingscholar.”

---

Leona had almost fallen asleep when he heard his phone vibrate on the hotel nightstand where it was charging. Letting out a little huff of annoyance, he turned in his bed and picked it up. In the gloom, he could see Idia in the other bed, his back turned to him.

Leona didn’t want to disturb him, so he rolled on his other side to check whatever message he’d gotten.

---

radish sprout sent a file “megcosplay.png”

radish sprout sent a file “megcosplay2.png”

radish sprout sent a file “megcosplay3.png”

radish sprout sent a file “megcosplay4.png”

radish sprout: you said you wanted to see them so uh

here they are

to pay you back for cosplaying for me

Leona: dude ur literally right next to me u coulda just showed me on ur phone

lmao

radish sprout: that would be way too embarrassing sahasdhhaf

besides I thought you might

want to save them

yknow, for whatever

Leona: i do thx

u look good

radish sprout: no I don’t I look creepy

there’s a reason I never wore it in public lol

Leona: shut up u look good

is that the star rogue girl

radish sprout: yeah

don’t post these anywhere ok

Leona: i wouldn’t do that

my eyes only

radish sprout: sdasfhfadfdasfa ---

Leona smirked to himself. He saved the photos to his phone and then stuck it under his pillow, eventually dozing off into a deep, comfortable sleep.

He was definitely going to jerk off to those later.

---

Idia’s robot brother sent a file “idia_052322_01.png”

Leona: whats this for

Idia's robot brother: It’s a photo of my brother!

Leona: i can see that genius

y r u sending it to me

Idia's robot brother: Because I noticed that you don’t have any recent pictures of him in your photo gallery.

These are from his graduation a few months ago!

Doesn’t he look happy?

Idia’s robot brother sent a file “idia_052322_02.png”

Idia’s robot brother sent a file “idia_052322_03.png”

Leona: ye

he does

wait how do u know whats in my photos

Idia's robot brother: :)

Leona: dont u “:)” at me

ugh w/e.

did u take these

Idia's robot brother: Yep!

I had a classmate help me, though.

She held up the reflectors for us.

Leona: wait so this was like a serious photoshoot

howd u get him to agree to that

Idia's robot brother: I bribed him with a limited edition figure of one of his favorite characters, signed by the voice actor.

At least, I meant to bribe him with it, but he agreed to do it as soon as I asked.

So it ended up being a graduation present, I suppose?

Leona: wow

he rly will do anything for u, huh

Idia's robot brother: Not always.

A few years ago, anything out of his comfort zone was out of the question.

I think he only started really trying during the Starsending.

Oh, speaking of which!

Idia’s robot brother sent a file “idia_stars_01.png”

Idia’s robot brother sent a file “idia_stars_02.png”

Idia’s robot brother sent a file “idia_stars_03.png”

I took these before I had any formal training, so the compositions and lighting are pretty bad.

But I was able to edit them into something passable.

Leona: wut r u talking about these look amazing

Idia's robot brother: Only because Idia kept my specs really high back then, so I had a good high-res image to work with.

Leona: have u showed him these yet

Idia's robot brother: No, he says he doesn’t want to remember anything “cringey”.

Leona: awesome

ill turn em into giant posters and put em all over the van

Idia's robot brother: Because he looks good in them and you want to prove him wrong?

Leona: no bc itll embarrass the hell out of him

that thing u said is true too tho

hes rly sweaty, damn

i dont remember the costume showing so much of his arms

Idia's robot brother: Please don’t talk about how sexually attractive you find my brother in front of me.

Leona: all i said was he looked sweaty wtf

Idia's robot brother: I’ve seen the kinds of pictures you have saved.

Hm, but it looks like I deleted four of them from my memory banks.

I wonder what those could have been?

Leona: who knows i guess itll always be a mystery that we never need to look into again

and about that

dont snoop in my phone anymore, thx

didnt Idia teach u about privacy laws

Idia's robot brother: I normally don’t, I promise.

I only checked briefly because I wanted to see if you had any shots of him that are half as good as mine.

Leona: cocky, arent u

Idia's robot brother: Isn’t any student of the arts?

We have to be, it distracts us from the reality of our jobless futures.

Leona: y would u need a job ur a robot

Idia's robot brother: Jobs aren’t always about money and possessions.

Art has historically been undervalued despite its importance in society. Without it, we wouldn’t have any of the material comforts that enrich our lives.

If fae had never created weather and plant life, we would have no food.

If humans had never painted on cave walls, we would have no writing systems.

If beasts had never built their first dens, we would have no architecture.

The foundation of civilization is built on art, but modern society only affords the elite or the lucky the privilege to pursue it. How rich are the cultures that have been destroyed by unscrupulous capitalists exploiting our need for food, shelter and stability?

As a robot, I’m very fortunate that I don’t have the same physical limitations as organic lifeforms. Therefore, I have an obligation to keep creating, for the sake of the artists who have had to give up on their passions to survive.

Leona: wow

that really was a wholeass lecture on art

given to me by a robot

u rly r something, ortho

i dont think ive ever cared about somethin that much

Idia's robot brother: Is it really that impressive?

I was reading that verbatim from an art history paper I wrote when I was a freshman.

I got a “C” on it.

Leona: dont pull back the curtain too far dude ur ruining it

its still good tho ur prof musta been a dumbass

Idia's robot brother: Oh he was.

I had an argument with him about whether videogames count as interactive art. He didn’t like me much after that.

I’m pretty sure that’s why he gave me a “C”.

Leona: sounds hilarious tell me more

Idia's robot brother: I showed Okami to that ungrateful motherfucker and he still wouldn’t listen.

Leona: some ppl have no taste ortho

if ur gonna be an artist ur gonna have to accept that

Idia's robot brother: You’ve never even heard of that game, have you.

Leona: no

Idia's robot brother: Normies…

------------------------------

Continued ->

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst fanfic #leona kingscholar #idia shroud #twst leona #twst idia #idia #leona #leoide #tw suicide #tw depression #tw self-harm #kiss me in the dark

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sandsorghum · 2 years

Text

The fic I've always wanted to write I don't know what to say about this one because it means a lot. Maybe once I get some distance, I've spent too much time with it. I'm just glad to have made it for Nanami's birthday, under the wire. But also it's unbeta'd. The format is new for me too, sort of a slow-burn triptych, best thought of as snapshots. I want to experiment more with it in the future, so I hope it does well. Please let me know your thoughts! Thread Count Genre: Slow Burn, Romance, Friends to Lovers WC: 5.3k

Ache, behind the eyes. Throbbing. Fizzling fiber optics.

Static hissing. Constant haunting. Pelting silver sibilance. The ghosts chorus against asphalt.

Chill in the air. Condensing upon dewy brows. He tilts his head ever so slightly. Satin relief, the sheets are cool too. Except in one spot.

Warmth already leaching into his fingers. He flexes them against his palm, to assess how sticky he's made the bed.

This thread count is too high.

Shit.

"Relax."

His body refuses, does the opposite. Freezes as he hears his name dissolve into a warning. Something fractal spreading in his lungs, spidery and sharp, an icicle breaking off between his ribs as he struggles to sit up.

A hand settles in the crease of his elbow, touch no longer tentative. Firm as the voice, equally familiar. Too familiar.

"It's okay, Akemiuchi's loyalty program is gonna guarantee me a decent discount on the next duvet."

"I'm-"

"It's a good chance to rack up those points. There's this crocheted quilt I've been eyeing? It's the cutest thing ever. I'll show it to you next time."

Nanami winces, sweet intentions souring into an implication. An imposition you've already accepted as inevitable. He's the worst. He had a few moments of consciousness to spare, he knows he did, could have called Ijichi or Shoko even, directly, but no he'd wasted those final flickering seconds to drag himself over here.

The last thing he remembers before slumping over was your welcome mat. Rubber now, instead of fabric.

He can't keep doing this. Not to you.

"Phone." He rasps.

You fluff the pillows behind his head. "It's charging."

A rectangle glares in the periphery of his slits. 3%. It'll do. Ijichi's prompt with calls, especially those coming in at this hour.

" - a real viper's den of cables, took me a while to find yours. I told you you should switch to Android, that port design is super dumb - Hey."

Fingers clamp down on his wrist before he can even reach the nightstand.

"It's late-"

"I was editing a presentation anyway. Clearly we've both got issues with work boundaries."

His arm stretches out again, sinews shrieking their protest, bones creaking their own echo. He ignores them. Deft fingers skate up his swollen biceps, insistent. There's a pressure at his shoulder and he flinches. When had you gotten so strong?

When had he gotten this weak?

"Crap - sorry. That hasn't healed yet? Or is it new..."

He doesn't dignify you with a response, but the tight seam of his lips reveals enough. Nanami's further given away by the loose slump of his limbs. Defeated and betrayed by the mutiny of his howling muscles.

His body sings its triumph with a fresh pang rolling hot through his gut, crimson banner unfurling over ragged veins. He'll be damned if he admits to such a vicious victory. Nanami sucks in a breath instead.

"Fine, don't tell me."

There's something clipped in your voice, something abrupt in the way you stand and stride to the bathroom. A cabinet creaks, but that's all. Nanami watches the silhouette of your hands meld into the shadows to retrieve something off a shelf.

The lowest shelf.

There isn't any other sound besides the soft shuffle of your returning footsteps. Well, of course you'd know where everything is in your own home. Including the things you rarely had a use for. You hadn't even bothered to switch the lights on. Nanami wishes you did. Wishes he could confirm your dry eyes and blank face, numb and neutral as you moved through the motions of getting medicine for a man who has soaked your front step scarlet again.

Routine, right?

The tub thuds against the table, crisp and resolute.

"There's a quarter of the salve left," you mutter. You aren't looking at him. You wouldn't be able to see him in this dark anyway.

"If it isn't enough, I've another jar. Top drawer. Aspirin's there too."

Easy access, even blind, Nanami thinks. The room's still swathed in navy blues. He's invisible in this ink. It feels safe to smile, just for a moment.

"Thank you."

Your head tilts up and his mouth hardens with restraint once more. They were just two words, you couldn't possibly have detected anything beyond civility in them.

But there's a suspicion, once tightly coiled, now starting to slither from the base of his spine and it's this: People don't unquestioningly accept their ex-colleagues into their apartments at 3am to bleed into their bed, out of sheer politeness.

A sliver of a pause before you say,"You're welcome."

You move to the door.

Nanami exhales, the exhaustion deflates and the stubbornness exsanguinates as his bones relearn their weight. Your palm meets the handle and you let go of the breath you didn't know you were holding. But it hitches when you hear the grunt of your name. You glance over your shoulder.

"Akemiuchi, was it?" An index prods at your comforter.

"Uh. Yeah?"

The confusion furrowing your brows is clear in Nanami's mind, he knows just how those lines will knit and scrunch your puzzled expression. He knows, even at a distance, with you all the way across the room how you'll shrug and shake your head at his apparently random question.

"Okay."

"Okay. Rest well, Nanami."

Then you're gone, and it's safe now.

It's a famous brand, there's a branch three blocks down from his neighbourhood. He's seen the quilt, a recent addition to the autumn collection. An elaborate fuss of mint and pastels, taking pride of place in the storefront window. It's got tassels too.

Gaudy, unabashedly.

Nanami closes his eyes and his mouth twitches.

ii.

He shows up at your doorstep tonight, a night of thunderstorms, looking like an envoy of Zeus and giving you about as much warning. His always imposing silhouette had crumpled in a crack of lightning.

When the skies next belched and blanched, you'd seen his clothes drenched with rain and red. And a goopy violet you'd never seen before.

"What do you tell people?" you had asked early on, not expecting any proper answer. You were right not to.

"They don't ask."

"You don't let them." It's neither question nor confrontation, but you get confirmation in his silence, eyes downcast amidst the downpour.

He'd had the decency to be mollified about the dramatics.

You were people to him too. He'd given you the same answer he gave everyone else. You could tell how well it was rehearsed, even through his grimaces, mumbling his way through something about Private security.

Unlike others however, you weren't polite enough to accept his excuses. Especially not when he dripped all over your carpet.

"I'll replace it," he shudders, heaving himself against the edge of your bathtub.

"It's $3000," you pointed out, kneeling and pressing a towel to his side. He arches a brow, not so much shocked by the hefty price tag, but by your lavish attitude towards interior decorating. You, on the other hand, are startled by a swoosh and soon after, the chime of your phone receiving the bank's notification.

You stare at your screen, then back up at Nanami, who simply pockets his mobile with a small shrug.

Somehow, it seemed smug.

Whatever this new gig was, it paid a hell of a lot better than the previous one at which you two had met. You pull the cloth away.

The fibers are saturated scarlet, staining your fingertips. What kind of job could be worth this? Moral fetters at the expense of financial freedom, was that the trade off Nanami had made? Nanami Kento, whose resentment and disdain for Mondays was sustained throughout the week, whose bleak, sombre expression stayed whether cast under cost-cutting fluorescents or the neon glitz of Shinjuku's excess.

You remembered the distant din of middle management's chants, the chugging and choking of sycophants, all muffled by plumes of cigarette smoke escaping thin lips, and a jacket draped wordlessly over your shoulders. Sobriety never seemed to be an issue for him.

Yet, he always appeared more exhausted than his hungover colleagues, the shadows beneath his naked eyes darker and deeper than those hidden under the department head's sunglasses. Nods to decorum couldn't disguise the stench of alcohol or the slur of his speech, a nasal wheedling appealing to Nanami's efficiency as another stack of files thumped down unceremoniously before him.

You gaze at Nanami now, beneath the bright white lights of your bathroom, teetering on the edge of your tub. He looks just as tired, except now he reeks of iron, not whiskey. Liberated from a desk, still duty-bound. We all pick our poisons and our prisons, you think.

The two of you have an understanding by now. Whatever his next chapter was, that story is sealed behind a steel vault, nothing will ever rust away at its hinges. You don't care. You're just...nosy, occasionally. Fiction formed from a few bad habits.

The consternation had been there before, threatening to bubble over, acidic enough to bleach bones. Yet even then you knew, Nanami had no use for emotional effervescence.

So what could you do, but wipe away the stains and residuals? Return him smudge-free glasses so he's immaculate and impassive once more. Though there's no alternative to ignoring your instincts, the filtrates of fear never quite boiled down to what you could label mere curiosity; still corrosive, always gnawing away at you.

In the stretch of months after, in his indefinite absences, the fangs drill down to your marrow. You only muzzle its maw when Nanami reappears with gashes and abrasions and an expression masking whatever else his shredded suits can't.

And you, you've gotten pretty decent at disguising the twisted relief that comes with finding his pulse; intermittent, but in your hands. You're the worst.

"You always did have expensive taste," he comments, catching your stare before you can tunnel further down that rabbit hole.

You blink, then snap the clasps on the first aid kit and scoff, "Please, your midweek coffee bill was double my lunch budget for the month."

Your hands make quick work of the packaging.

"Even if I was buying for two," you add.

"Did you want a reimbursement? You always said it was your treat."

You roll your eyes. "Because someone always forgot to take a break. Seriously? Not even a vending machine sandwich? Nobody should be able to survive solely off six espressos."

You pause, laying out a few other implements. "The cafeteria's ciabatta is a lot better now though, after you gave them those tips. Shame you left before you saw the benefit of your feedback pay out."

"Hm."

To anyone else, the sound is non-committal. But you recognize that hum, the rich roundness hinting at his satisfaction, that a minor injustice of yeasty mediocrity had been redressed.

You recognized it, because it was rare and you'd always had to strain to hear it, replaying it in your mind to compensate for the sore dearth set by reality's quota.

"Besides, I couldn't risk our top sales lead collapsing from low blood sugar at an important stakeholders' meeting. Oh, and Shuichi's department head now, so thanks for that."

There's a suspicion of amusement which rumbles low in his chest, a sound you've heard even less frequently, and so conversely, dreamed about more. But it cuts off abruptly into a rough grunt when your fingers ghost over his ribs, swiping antiseptic. You look up sharply.

"This is even worse than-"

"It should have been you." Nanami's interruption rings mildly vexed, to your surprise. He grips your hand with a force that's even more unexpected, as he pulls it away. "You had more seniority than him."

"Yeah well, you know how it is." you mutter, fist clenching around the cotton swab before hurling it into the bin. "Apparently women my age are meant to be running nurseries, not boardrooms."

Nanami watches you fiddle with the surgical thread, spooling it through without hesitation. Meets your gaze, unclouded by worry or weariness. It had been 2am when he had turned up unannounced. And he feels your hands, reassuring warmth hovering over his wound. He nods once, and you touch skims over ruptured skin, where a fresh scar awaits to adorn his obliques.

His breath seems harsh and loud to his own ears.

"You could manage both if that's what you wanted."

"What makes you think that?"

"You're capable of a lot. Discipline and kindness."

The crescent of your eyes and lips glint brighter than the curved piece of silver weaving in and out of his flesh. It's a pleasant distraction, he'll admit that much.

"Ruthlessness too," he adds, wincing as the needle digs into a particularly tender spot.

"Go on," your smile is sardonic, both bee sting and nectar. Nanami feels a twinge in his rib cage, in his chest free from any visible bruises.

"You're beautiful."

Maybe he lost a lot more blood than he realised. He only notices his accident of sincerity when the thread is tugged tense, the needle jerking back abruptly. Then the anvil drops over his windpipe.

He glances at the gleaming point, barely quivering between your thumb and forefinger. The tremble of your lips is terribly obvious by contrast.

Desperation surges through him suddenly, a riptide of an urge to have them quake against his own, to savour your whimpers shaking against his tongue, give you a taste of your own medicine, have the pinprick of his incisors sink into where you're soft and vulnerable. You've given him countless stitches, and he hasn't left a single mark on you. It's unfair. It's cruel.

"How-" A distracting slip of pink darts out to wet your lips. The needle nips into his skin again and he has to hold back a groan.

"How is that trait relevant to being either a manager or a mother?"

Nanami grips the edge of the tub, white-knuckled as its porcelain. There's a pause. Longer than he's comfortable with, though you don't seem to notice. Or comment on it at least. Small mercies.

Then he says, "It doesn't hurt your odds."

"My odds aren't that great."

For a moment, Nanami wonders if you're still fishing for compliments. But then, dorsal finned mischief flashes in your grin and you let him off the hook.

"Most smooth-talkers aren't like you. More style than substance."

Your smile stretches wry, deprecation retreats into the furthest corners of your cheeks. "Not that I meet many of them though."

"It's difficult to find someone compatible." You lean forward, on the pretext of inspecting the knot before you snip the thread. Your hand settles on his knee. His spine stiffens into a limestone column. The caterpillars in Nanami's belly curl into tight cocoons.

"Someone who isn't intimidated by my ambitions," your fingers are feather-light, trailing up his toned hamstrings. Nanami feels the winged creatures twitch in their chrysalis.

"My desires..." Your palm curves higher, like your lips, closer to the apex of his muscled thighs. Newborn butterflies stir, damp with arousal. Nanami swallows, perhaps his spit could extinguish the sparks fluttering in his gut.

"Someone who's sensible and strong, who could hold me down long enough to..." The ridges of your knuckles have met the crest of his seams, any further and you'd feel the effect of your touch, of your smoldering eyes.

"...put a child in me." Your whisper fans the flames in his hollowed cheeks, in his skin scorching and stretched thin over the flint of his jaw, in the recesses of his throat, scratchy with kindling.

"If that's what we both wanted." It's the slightest graze of your thumb, but Nanami's already doomed by the briefest jolt of his hips. Fuck. You definitely felt that. Your eyes flicker, but by some sheer miracle, not downwards, to where the wet spot is staining and straining against his fabric and your fingers.

"Do you know someone like that, Nanami?" you murmur and he breathes hard, sees the vapour of his harsh pants slip behind your own mouth, parted and patient. Your fingers haven't moved a fraction too.

His brushes with death have sculpted his body, corded his chiseled torso with complete control, each synapse wired with lightning to assess curses, salivating for his flesh and demise.

Nanami knows the anaerobic burn of adrenaline, what it is to run on fumes into the jaws of danger, to dispatch nightmares, to delay the inevitable. Countless demons slewed in calculations of perfect precision, in single fell swoops and too close shaves.

You are the greatest peril Nanami has faced in years.

It takes every last fiber of his being, of his battered body, crafted far beyond the demands of labour and the delusions of purpose, not to buck into the threat and promise of your gentle heated hands or crush his mouth to yours.

"No," Nanami croaks. "I don't."

iii.

There's something soupy about the atmosphere tonight, thick with humidity, hot fog rolling in. The sheets stick to his clammy skin.

He doesn't remember how he got here this time.

Regret reverberates together with recognition as his cuticles clink against glass. There's the rustle of foil, conveniently within reach too. The plastic pops twice underneath his nail. The end of the row, Nanami notices.

He wonders if these are the drowsy kind, or maybe it's just a moonless night and all the shadows are melting together. Eventually he finds the silhouette he's looking for, slumped into a chair.

Nanami squints at the world's saddest mountain, gradually losing its slope. It's the blanket sliding off you. It puddles by your ankles, next to a basin of water, tinged pink and tepid by now. You shiver slightly, his eyes dart up and sure enough, there's the rag, twisted in your hands.

An exhale wheezes its way from his ribs and Nanami winces; he should know by now shallow sighs are all his sunken chest will allow. But the pain is dulling everything, pounding against his ivory dome like a petulant brat with balled fists.

His mobile - had you confiscated it? Such sly sweetness - Focus, landline then for a taxi, tip extra for the smears on the seats -

"You should be carrying an umbrella with you these days. Could probably fit one in that holster."

Your admonishment pierces through his haze, sounding less groggy than he'd hoped.

"It'd obstruct movement."

"Or try wearing a poncho, unless you're worried it ruins the lines of your suit." You stand up, retrieving a familiar looking quilt off the floor. The shipping had been free, he recollects.

"Given the latest state of your jacket however, I doubt that's a priority."

Nanami hauls himself up, or tries to. His deltoids have other ideas, and every muscle beneath them agrees. The veto is unanimous, and he grimaces.

You shuffle over, remarking, "I've been looking for a good tailor. I'm sure you have recommendations."

"Bulk orders from the department store," Nanami grunts, combating gravity as he attempts to swing his leaden legs over the bedside. You drag the duvet back over his lap and it might as well be lumber.

"Shame on you," you scoff with such force that he stops struggling for two whole seconds to look askance at you.

"Deluding some atrocious tie designer out there into thinking they have a shot in the fashion industry."

Against his better judgement, Nanami decides a snort is worth the risk. It isn't, obviously. He learns, too late, the appeal of mirth's medicinal qualities is gravely overstated.

"And if I told you they were custom pieces?" he snipes.

"Then I'd applaud whatever keeps attacking you."

A warning filters through the back of his brain, Whatever, not whoever. Suspicion alone is a lethal enough threshold to his world, he can't risk you. And yet he's here, the voice whispers. Far from an emergency.

"My assailants are probably acquainted with decent tailors."

Nanami's cynicism towards humour as a balm ebbs, watching your lips curve.

"I'm in stitches," you state, digits skimming Nanami's pectorals, skirting around the petunias starting to clot there.

"You took a dozen this time," you add, a little softer.

He lets your palm stay on his chest. "Where's my cell?"

"Down the chute."

"I'll use yours then." He brushes your hand away.

"Mine's outta juice too." A fist this time, knuckles pressed to his breastbone.

Nanami's eyes flick up to the ceiling for a moment, he's long suspended belief in heaven or gods, the gravity of his bones remind him of this; Any covenant he's made is between his cursed technique and body - more altar than temple.

"Got a pull out couch?" he asks at last.

"Oh shut up. You're staying here," you huff in disbelief and he looks at you, a Vestal Virgin with embers for irises. A braver man than him would wait for the hint of a spark.

But instead he says, "More water, please."

You nod, handing him a mug that's still warm but empty. "I'll fetch the thermos - oh, hang on. Let me rinse that out, sorry."

Nanami takes a quick sniff before passing it over. "Nicaragua?"

"Guatemala, Santa Isabel," you elaborate. "Tea's probably better for putting you down though."

"Water's fine."

You slip out into the shadows, taking the aroma of the dark roast with you. Nanami reclines against the headboard, your scent lingering in his passageways. Yet another inconvenience he's instigated. A longstanding tradition, fitting its origins. There had been a time when you insisted on oolong instead, or the superiority of Ceylon. You were convincing enough in those first few months, with your tiresome tirades and passionate grandstanding in the pantry, all before 8am. Nanami had almost attributed your bright eyes to the beverages you rigorously argued for, even as he refused to deviate from the ritual masochism of his "sad bean juice". Not so much elixir as IV drip. "That much caffeine will wreck your melatonin production," you berated him. He had no idea what you were talking about but then, neither did you. The destruction of Circadian rhythms, the annihilation of any balance beyond the kind in the books you pored over (long after your bosses had dumped them on you a quarter to 7), would never boil down to what was poured into your mug. The defeat was inevitable. Nanami told himself he didn't miss your near daily trivial one-sided debates; they just interfered with his morning reports. Still, he had stared too long at the pair of steaming takeaway cups you carried in one day. "A peace offering," you said. "Robusta. The cafe down the street has a fresh batch every Tuesday." You leaned forward, depositing them under his nose. "Here's to the grind, on our terms." A croissant wrapped in the white flag of a serviette slides next to his cup, over the grey laminate of the table. Compromise shouldn't smell this good on you, he had thought. In your kitchen he's spotted both the conical slopes of the Chemex, and your stash of pyramid pouches with their loose leaf treasures. Just one more thing he's taken away from you on a night like this. He's an aberration, an intrusion - much like the flavours infringing upon your tongue. It ought to be the routine lull of chamomile, instead it's coffee, keeping you alert; iron and tannin tangling in the air. Nanami's mind drifts to the rude awakening your taste buds must endure, wonders about the sweetness there, more hazelnut than herbal, strong or mellow, aggressive or pliant- "Here." Nanami reaches out, fingers grazing ceramic that feels like hearthstones. He finds the handle by sheer luck. The sips he takes are small and slow, tendrils of steam climbing up his sheer cliff face. Over the rim, Nanami feels you watching him absently. Your concern suspended over the ravine between the both of you, silence slack in your carabiners.

Then you murmur, "Your mouth's too hot."

His throat goes taut. "What?"

"I forgot. Now the reading won't be accurate," you sigh.

Something rolls off his shoulders when he recognises the thin beak of the thermometer outlined in your grasp. The sensation is more weighted than mere relief, Nanami can't quite name it. It's a residual sludge in his gut, turning the ground to mud as he tries to trample it.

"I'm fine."

"Liar." The mattress dips and the boulder in his belly plummets as he feels your body brush next to his. He pushes back, it's Sisyphean, your breath against his clavicle, his soles are slipping.

"What are you-"

"Last I checked," you interject, wrestling the covers over your laps, "this is my bed."

His knees buckle as you shove aside his thigh with yours.

"You'll catch this bug." The warning is futile, Nanami knows. He's already set down the mug.

Your tone takes on a solemn timbre. "An extra risk. There's no known cure for cooties either. Sorry to break it to you."

Nanami huffs through his nostrils, he ought to feel more patronized than placated. But there's a levity to your touch, gently pressing him back against the bed.

"And I really hope you're not a blanket hogger because I'll kick you out. Injured or not."

There's already too little space between you and him but Nanami turns on his side, stoic expression that much closer. "You should have kicked me out a long time ago."

"Probably," you agree.

Nanami startles as your fingers sweep beneath his fringe, pressing your palm to his forehead, then to yours, then back to his.

"At least your fever's broken, I think."

Perhaps the pills worked, but Nanami doesn't feel the same relief flooding your gaze.

"Are you sure?"

Your touch lingers, he leans into it. His temperature is rocketing, if anything. Hesitantly, Nanami's hand glides over your temples.

"You're too warm yourself."

"I'm not," you object, despite the steadily building furnace in your cheeks. "Check again."

"This isn't accurate," Nanami mutters, but his touch settles over you. His fingers should stay in a delicate arch over your head but his hand is drifting to cup your face, feeling your smile curve into his palm. He cradles it, together with the quiet of your breathing slowing into sync.

"I should keep a couple of shirts in the closet. What size do you wear?" you mumble sleepily.

"That's not necessary."

You crack open an eye. "So you're gonna insist on staying half-naked in an unmarried woman's bed?"

Nanami retracts his hand swiftly, as if he's been scalded.

"That's not what-"

"Don't get me wrong," you smirk, drowsiness completely vanquished. (Had it really been there in the first place? Nanami wonders.)

"Wearing just perspiration and bandages is a great look on you, but..."

You pull the blanket higher over the distinct curves of his biceps, shifting closer. "You'll get cold. And the forecast said rain tonight."

The meteorologists must be right for once, he thinks.The atmosphere is electric, frenetic with an impending summer storm. He can feel the crackling in his capillaries, heat condensing in the air.

You're an inch, maybe less, away from his face now. Near enough anyway that he can make out the feathered arc of your lashes, can see how they'd flutter with each of his exhalations, if he isn't careful.

Nanami holds his breath, becomes statuesque. You notice.

He's a magnum opus of masonry, Michelangelo's misery, muscles cast in moonlight and breaking all mortal molds - but the truth is, he's built himself from scratch. You know this. You've admired his Adonis belt, cut from alabaster, yes, but you've also witnessed that rigid expression, pale as chalk. The bricks in his abdomen, the welts chiselled crudely into his spine, your hands have traced all this.

It's how you know where to look for movement now, your palm pressing over the telltale pounding in those marble pectorals, fingertips skating the shadows that dance along the column of his throat. Nanami swallows cinders, the inferno in his belly growls. There is smoke in his lungs, his trapped protests, his warnings will taste like ash.

Because Nanami's not sure how much more of your mercy he can take, how many more miracles will lay to waste his mornings and nights as he remembers the softness of your skin, free from soot.

Reality isn't this good to him, Nanami isn't kind enough for it-

But you are.

Your kiss is gentle, glacial. Mouth drifting over his, as innocuous and inevitable as an iceberg.

A kiss so gentle it rips the hull of him wide open.

A hissing, gasoline fumes siphoned from his clenched teeth as he rolls your body on top of him and his cracked ribs, your gasp tangling with the rustle of the sheets. They bunch in your fists as he feels you struggle to push away from him, to alleviate the weight, but Nanami needs it, like pressure upon a spurting wound, grabs your hips and holds them flush to his own as he locks his other hand around your nape. He nips your protest in half, teeth and tongue raking and tilling along your bottom lip, until at last you let submission bloom in the bruises there.

Nanami doesn't know if he will survive this tenderness; if it'll survive him. The struggle is exhausting. But then, your hand clutches the hair at the back of his neck, roots silken in your strong grasp. Soft blonde strands sprout through the gaps of your fingers, the furrow of your brow eases into a plateau, a quiet moan pushes into his mouth; and Nanami knows he's lost.

And found again.

He feels the sickle of your smile, the swipe of your tongue as it reaps the first fruits of spring.

The scent of rain starting to fall can't compare to the taste of you, the scattered sounds are even more vague. Nanami doesn't register the gale's shrill whistle, too focused on the high peals of your whimpers. Precipitation's heavier pitter-patter against the panes is drowned out by the hammering of your heart underneath him, all of heaven's rumbling can't contend with the rushed whispers of his name and yours. Nanami links your hands together, the syllables loop around your bodies tighter and tighter as the intervals between your chants get shorter, breathier.

You pull away from Nanami at last, not quite completely, as he tries to temper his greed by suckling at your neck, your pulse barely a pacifier for his petulance. You pant, head lolling further to the side.

The sky has mistaken itself for the sea, deluge of melodrama lashing against your window. The cityscape is shrouded in silver, though you're not exactly enamoured by the view at the moment.

Nanami coaxes your attention back to him, lips roving over your cheeks and chin and nose. He rests his forehead against yours, gazing deep into your eyes. The silence is different now.

There had always been a certain detachment and distance, as if he were tuned to the frequency of a far away planet, a separate world. Still, you were pulled into each other's orbit; a pair of satellites emitting mixed signals.

You sense him drifting now, calibrating, calculating again; static buzzing as he searches for the right words.

You sigh and tug Nanami into another kiss.

He's a little surprised the atmosphere isn't scorching, that he isn't burning up upon reentry, falling back into your gravity. The heat is still there of course, just under your tongue and evident in the kerosene trails you're painting across his chest. It's diffuse this time, simmering rather than searing. Languid as syrup, as butter browning in a skillet. No flash in the pan, you tell him, lips still occupied.

Nanami closes his eyes, the liquid light filling him brighter than any solar flare. You drag your kiss, slow and soothing, till it's tucked into the hollow of his throat.

"Sweet dreams, Kento."

How redundant, he thinks without verbalizing it, arm curling around his one impossible yearning that has already come true.

Quietness seeps through the room as you curl into Nanami's side, and he allows himself to drift into warmth's embrace; the warmth of a sunbeam spilling through billowing muslin curtains.

Perhaps he could get used to this thread count.

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