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allyouneedisbuck · 3 years

Text

golden (you’re so golden)

summary // bucky is in louisiana with sam when he meets you, one of sam’s close friends, and immediately gets along with you. (bucky x fem!reader)

words // 3.5k

warnings // it’s fluff! some tiny insecure bucky but that’s about it. sam calls reader bubbles a couple times. use of y/n.

notes // 💞

》* 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • 。* 。° 。* 。 • ˚《

Bucky enjoyed Louisiana.

He enjoys being with Sam and his family in Louisiana. It’s slow and relaxed and everybody in town is so charming that he finds himself settling in easily.

There’s a level of trust Sam shows Bucky allowing him to help with the family boat and while he hadn’t said it, he did appreciate Sam’s unending kindness.

Perhaps Bucky has found the beginnings of a new home in Sam Wilson. A friendship based on respect and love helped Bucky. He was slowly but surely rebuilding himself into a better man.

“Word on the street is Sam Wilson was back in town.” A voice calls out from above the two men. Bucky looks at Sam and finds him smiling and shaking his head. There’s footsteps and then you’re standing in the doorway with a smirk. “I just had to see for myself.”

Sam lets go of the wrench in his hand and moves to meet you at the top of the stairs. Bucky watches curiously as Sam hugs you tightly. He had never mentioned a girlfriend, although Bucky wasn't particularly forthcoming about his personal life either.

“Hey, Bubbles.” Bucky scrunches his nose at the nickname and you roll your eyes and shove Sam off of you.

He laughs heartily clutching his stomach. “The nickname wasn’t funny in the seventh grade and it’s not funny now.”

Sam presses a kiss to your head and Bucky clears his throat. He feels like he’s interrupting a personal moment, but your smile is turned on him and then Bucky freezes because that’s a beautiful smile.

“Who’s your friend?” You nudge Sam with your elbow but your stare doesn’t waver. Bucky smiles nervously before lifting his hand up in an awkward wave.

“Bucky.” He introduces. You nod slowly. “Barnes.” He adds on and you laugh at him making Bucky deflate a little.

“Y/N.” You respond easily. “And don’t call me Bubbles, I hate it.” Your glare and he nods. “I just came to see if the rumors were true.” You shift your focus back to Sam. “I just couldn’t believe Sam Wilson was here, working on the boat, without telling me.”

Sam scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. “Wasn’t sure how long I was gonna be here.”

You purse your lips and Bucky thinks that wasn’t the right thing to say. He’s so curious about what your relationship is because he can’t tell if it’s just friends or dating or maybe even exes. You’re affectionate and comfortable with one another, that much is obvious in the few seconds Bucky has been able to observe.

“Even if you were here for a day, I would like to see you.” You punch his shoulder. “But whatever, I’m not gonna hold a grudge.”

There’s a moment of silence between the three of you before you shrug. “I’ve gotta go. I’ll see you tonight, Sarah invited me for dinner.”

You give a quick hug to Sam before waving goodbye Bucky. He waves back with a smile and watches as you walk away.

He doesn’t even realize Sam’s staring at him until the man clears his throat. Bucky shuffles and adamantly ignores the fire he feels burning at his cheeks. “Who’s that?” He asks in a faux nonchalant tone.

Sam shakes his head and laughs. “We grew up together. Went to prom and all that.” Bucky nods and tries to think of how to ask his next question, but Sam beats him to it. “Not as my girlfriend or anything. She’s like a bonus sister.”

Bucky nods and looks back down at the pipe they had been working on. “Cool… We gonna finish this?”

Sam snorts, but Bucky can hear his footsteps come back down the stairs. “Let’s get it done. I just know Sarah’s gonna make something great for dinner if Y/N’s coming and I’m starving.”

Bucky nods, excited for some home cooked food. And maybe seeing more of your smile.

》

Bucky sits next to you at dinner. The kids across from the two of you with Sam and Sarah at the ends of the table.

He notices your eyes trail over the black and gold of his arm and tries to not to blush. “How’d this happen?” You nod to it after a moment of silence.

Bucky turns to you at the same moment Sam’s head shoots up to look at you. “Bubbles.” He hisses your nickname like you’re a child with their hand in the cookie jar.

“Sam.” You hiss back, eyes narrowed at the nickname. Bucky wonders if Sam would ever call you by your first name. “It’s okay.” He nods to Sam.

Bucky is sure that the kids sitting across from him had been wondering too, if Sam hadn’t already told them. He takes a sip of his beer before deciding on sharing a condensed version

“Lost it when I fell off a train in 1945.” He shrugs. You look him up and down. “Got this arm a few years ago.”

It’s silent as you process his words and your eyes move back to stare at the arm. His fingers twitch and your eyes snap to them.

“You don’t look like you fell off a train in 1945. You don’t even look forty.” You say skeptically. Sam runs a hand over his face while the kids laugh.

“Just eat.” Sam orders. “You don’t need to ask him all these questions. It’s rude.”

You turn to your food and roll your eyes at Sam. “I asked one question.” Then your eyes move to Bucky again and you smile apologetically. “I wasn’t trying to make you uncomfortable though. I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head. “It’s cool. You can just google me for all the answers anyways. I’m pretty sure the Smithsonian has a webpage on me.”

You snort. “That’s a subtle brag.”

Bucky feels his cheeks flush and shakes his head. “No. I just meant… like, Howling Commandos and Steve-“

“She’s just messing with you, man.” Sam laughs as he reaches across the table for a biscuit. “She knows who you are.”

Bucky looks back at you and finds the teasing smile on your face. He flushes red and that only makes you laugh too. Bucky presses his lips together and nods slowly. “Nice.”

“Hey.” You nudge him with your elbow. “If it helps, I think you look pretty good for someone who fell off of a train, lost an arm, was brainwashed for decades and then fought an army of Titans.”

Sam’s shaking his head and Sarah is just staring at you with wide eyes, but Bucky’s lips quark up as he tries not to laugh. “Thanks.” His eyes move over you. “You look pretty good for someone who’s friends with Sam.”

“Hey!” Sam cuts in defensively. “You know, most people think I’m cool.” You and Bucky smirk at each other before both turning to Sam with open mouths, ready to tease him. “Nevermind.”

Bucky can’t help but watch as you throw your head back and let out one of the most beautiful laughs he’s ever heard.

》

“Boys!” You call from the dock with a bright smile. Bucky spins so fast he thinks he’s got whiplash until he sees your happy face. You’ve got your sunglasses hooked in the collar of your t-shirt and a tray of iced coffees in your hands. “I know I’m late, but I come with some refreshments.”

Sam scoffs from next to Bucky. “Coffee isn’t really all that good for rehydration.”

Your smile drops for a millisecond before you turn your attention to Bucky. He gestures awkwardly for a moment before his right hand lands on his hip and his left hand waves. “I like coffee.” He blurts.

You bite down a smile as Bucky ignores the blush he knows is on his cheeks. Maybe it’ll just pass off as a sunburn, or heat exhaustion.

“See, Sam.” You smile victoriously. “Bucky appreciates my gifts.”

Sam scoffs and Bucky just stares at you avoiding Sam’s glare. “He won’t when he tastes the sugar monstrosity you’ve probably brought him.”

You pout and step closer to the boat. You shakily try to step onto deck, but stumble at the last minute. Bucky’s hands shoot out to steady your waist and you look at him with a shy smile and grateful eyes.

“Thank you, Bucky.” You say softly as he helps you step onto the boat deck steadily. “I didn’t know what you liked, so I got you what I drink.”

You lift one of the iced drinks out of the carrier. Sam was right, it looks like a sugared disaster, more cream than coffee; Bucky has to force himself not to scrunch his nose up at the drink.

“Thank you.” Bucky takes the coffee from you and stares down at it. You hand one over to Sam and then finally pull your own out.

“If...If you don’t like it, don’t even worry.” You say as the three of you move back to the part of the deck the boys had been working on all morning.

Bucky takes a sip and well, it’s not awful. Nor is it even that bad. Definitely more sugar than he was used to, but he needed to get out of his comfort zone anyways.

“I like it.” He states. “I’d like anything you give me.” He smirks as you look down at your feet nervously. “You’ll have to tell me what you order so I know.”

Your smile brightens and you nod excitedly, pulling your phone out. “Give me your number, I’ll text it to you.”

“You can just write it down.” Sam says with a teasing smirk when Bucky looks up and glares over your shoulder. “I mean-“

“Ignore him.” You roll your eyes and hold the phone out, the contact page already cued up. As Bucky takes the phone and begins to type his number in, you spin around to face Sam. “I’m trying to make friends here, Wilson. Stop trying to discourage it because you’re afraid he and I could lead to world destruction together.”

Sam laughs loudly and Bucky hands the phone back to you. “I’m not worried about the world as much, I'm worried about me. I can already tell you two will be a pain in my ass together.”

You glance at Bucky and wink before slipping the phone back into your pocket. “Stop stalling Sam, we’ve got work to do.” You scoff as you begin to pull out tools.

Bucky looks at Sam with a smirk. “Yeah, Sam. We’re trying to get some work done while you’re just standing there.” Bucky sturdies the piece you had begun screwing in with his left hand.

Sam sighs and returns to his earlier position. “I’m so glad you two have met.” He mutters sarcastically.

》

The shield slips onto Bucky’s arm easily. “Looking good!” You wolf whistle as you make your way towards the boys in Sarah’s yard.

Sam rolls his eyes, but Bucky puffs his chest out a little and smiles. “Hey!” He says as you come to a stop in front of them.

Bucky’s eyes trail over your figure. “Hey. I heard you were leaving today.” Your attention is solely on Bucky as Sam stands beside him with a knowing smile.

He nods apologetically. “I’ve got some stuff to do back home in Brooklyn. I uh-“ He looks down at his boots. “You have my number. I would love to keep in touch.”

You bite down on your lip as you nod. “Of course! Anybody who can handle Sam is someone I want in my life.”

“Are you two just gonna make fun of me everytime you’re together? Because I’ll cut this off right now.” He says jokingly.

You rock back and forth on your feet nervously before finally talking. “I’ll let you two get back to it. I just wanted to say bye!” You pull Sam into a tight hug before turning to Bucky. “Um, I’ll see you later. I hope?”

He nods enthusiastically. “Yeah! Yeah, I mean. I hope so too.” He stands awkwardly in front of you, unsure of if he should hug you or just settle for a handshake.

Your hands land on his shoulders as you lift yourself onto your tippy toes and press a kiss to his cheek. His cheeks are burning red by the time you pull away and wonders if you’re as nervous as he is. “I’ll see you around, Bucky.” You say sweetly before spinning on your heel and walking off.

Bucky watches you go with soft eyes as Sam just stares at him incredulously.

》

Bucky doesn’t get to see much of you the next couple weeks, but he hears from you all the time. Text messages telling him to have a good day. Photos of animals you see around your hometown. Photos of you and your family or friends.

It always makes his day and you never seem to mind if it takes him a long time to reply.

“You gonna come down?” Sam asks as he and Bucky walk through the empty streets of Brooklyn. “Y/N has been asking about you. When you’ll be in Louisiana again.”

Bucky shrugs. “I don’t know. I... I might stay up here.” Bucky answers quietly. He wanted to see you. You had easily become one of his favorite people to talk to, even if you had barely seen each other in person.

Sam snorts. “Come on. The boys want to see you. Sarah. We all loved having you around.” He bumps his shoulder into Bucky’s.

“I won’t be intruding?” Bucky asks softly.

Sam shakes his head. “You know that you won’t, Bucky. I’m not gonna force your hand, but I know she would like to see you as much as you would her.”

“Really?” Bucky tries not to sound too excited by the idea of you asking Sam about Bucky and when he’d be back in Louisiana.

Sam rolls his eyes. “Yeah. She asks about you. Just… Come down for a few days?”

Bucky nods slowly. “Yeah… Okay. I will.”

》

The dock is packed with people. Bucky smiles at the laughter and cheerful screams of the people around him. Crowds weren’t normally his thing, but this town of people loved each other so much he couldn't help but relish in the warmth.

“Bucky! Bucky!” He slips his sunglasses off as Sam’s nephews come rushing towards him excitedly. They throw fake punches and kicks that Bucky dodges before they lead him to the food table.

He places his cake on the edge and stops to look around. He knows he’s searching for you, but he can at least try to be as nonchalant as possible about it.

“You went all out for your dish, huh?” Your voice makes him spin around. You’re behind him with crossed arms and an amused smile on your face. The sun is casting such a beautiful light over you that Bucky is speechless for a moment.

Bucky shrugs. “I didn’t… I’m not much of a chef and I didn’t want to come empty handed.” He explains sheepishly.

You shake your head before moving forward and wrapping your arms around his neck. Bucky immediately responds and wraps his arms around you tightly.

“I’m so happy you came down again.” You whisper to him and pull back to look at him. He smiles sweetly at you. “Me too. It’s nice to see you again.”

You pull completely away, but slide your arm through his and begin to walk with him. “Come meet everyone. I’ve been talking about you non-stop, everyone is so excited to meet you.”

You pull him around and introduce him to friends and family. Your arm never leaves his and that makes Bucky feel extremely warm on the inside. He’s positive he’s going to melt by the time you’re pulling him towards the food.

“Hey!” Sam is the last person you and Bucky find. He’s sitting with Sarah and his nephews as they all eat. “Sit! I’m sure you’re tired of introducing your boyfriend to everyone.”

You and Bucky look away from each other nervously as you take your seats. “Shut up, Sam.” You hiss as you take your seat next to him.

Sam rolls his eyes as he hands over food to you and Bucky. It’s not awkward, but everytime you and Bucky make eye contact he feels his cheeks get warm and you look away with a nervous smile.

“I should head out.” You finally say, picking up the plate in front of you to throw it away on your way out. “Thanks for all this, Sam. Sarah. It was so great to see everyone again.” They nod with bright smiles and your attention focuses on Bucky. “Will you be staying for a while?”

He shrugs, unsure of what to say. “I…I think so. Yeah.” You nod slowly and stand in front of him for a moment like you’re waiting for something before sighing. “Well, I’ll see you later.” You wave before turning and beginning to walk away.

Bucky watches you for a few seconds before turning back to look at the table. Everybody is staring at him with poorly concealed smirks.

“What?” He asks defensively. He takes a sip of his water and they continue to just stare. “Stop staring at me. It’s weird.”

“You better go after her!” Sam shoves his shoulder which makes Bucky choke a little on the water. “She just waited for you to walk her home!”

Bucky begins shaking his head vehemently. “No. No way! She was saying goodbye. To all of us.”

“Don’t be an idiot, Bucky!” Sarah chimes in. “She likes you! She literally introduced you to everyone she cares about today!” There’s a chorus of yeahs from Sam and the boys that has Bucky glaring playfully at them.

“Really? She wanted me to walk her home?” He asks Sam quietly. Sam scoffs. “Yeah, man. So you better start hustling to catch up with her!”

“Shit!” He pushes himself off of the bench. “Okay! I’ll see you guys later!” He calls out with a hasty wave before jogging away from the table.

You can’t have made it far, but if you’ve already left the dock entirely there’s no way he’ll find you. He had no clue where you live or even what direction he would have to go in to find you.

He stops at the entrance of the dock and looks around while huffing out breaths. His eyes catch on your sundress and he smiles. “Y/N!” He calls out, jogging to catch up with you.

“Hey! Wait up!” You pause and turn around to face him. Your eyes light up but you don’t say anything to him as he comes to a stop beside you. “Let me walk you home?” He asks nervously.

Surprise crosses your features before an excited smile takes place. “Okay.” You say softly. “I would love that.” You wrap your hand around his bicep and step closer as the two of you begin to walk.

Bucky appreciates that you seem to be comfortable with talking because the entire twenty minute walk passes quickly with your stories and jokes. By the time the two of you have reached your front door Bucky is trying to come up with a reason to go around the block one more time.

“Thank you for walking me home, Buck.” You say quietly. You cross your arms over your stomach and run one hand up and down the opposite arm. Bucky smiles at you as you speak. “I had a nice time talking to you.”

Bucky stuffs his hands into his pockets and nods. “Me too. I enjoy talking to you. You’re a breath of fresh air.” He admits. It was nice to talk to somebody who wasn’t a part of his old life, who was completely new and who only knew this him, not Bucky from the forties or the winter soldier. Maybe his therapist had been right about needing to talk to more people.

You bite your lip and look off to the side before your eyes find his again. “Thank you. You’re really sweet.”

“Well, I’ll let you go.” Bucky takes a step back from you and your house. The two of you watch one another and Bucky knows he should say something. Ask you on a date. Tell you you’re pretty. He just can’t get the words out.

“Oh, Bucky.” You sigh as your hand wraps around his wrist and pulls him back into you. His left hand immediately lands on your waist in order to steady himself. Before he can apologize or pull it away, you’re leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

He doesn’t respond, unable to with how quickly you lean in and pull away, but you’re smiling sweetly at him. “Ask me out.” You demand softly.

Bucky chuckles. “Do you… Would you want to go on a date with me?” He asks, still a little nervous.

“I would love to.” You wrap your arms around his neck and Bucky lifts his other hand to rest on your waist too. “I can take you to some of my favorite places around town.” You offer and Bucky nods quickly.

Bucky enjoyed Louisiana.

He thinks he may have finally found a home outside of Brooklyn, which was a once upon a memory. Somewhere clean of Steve and a life Bucky would never get back. Somewhere with Sam forging a bond of brotherhood and you building something new with him too.

》* 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • 。* 。° 。* 。 • ˚《

notes // i don’t know how some of you write only on your phones it stresses me out so much kudos to you lol hope you liked this short piece, keep an eye out for my other two requests this week!

reblogs and replies are always appreciated if you enjoyed this!

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes and reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes fic

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scuttling · 3 years

Text

And this I promise from the heart

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 5,428 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Dad Bod Hotch, Fluff, Hot tub foreplay, Hiking, Hotch is into plants, Rough sex, Hickies, Biting, Mirror sex Summary: Includes a scene Inspired by @ssahotchie and this ask. Collection: Just The Way You Are Series, Part 2 Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 (Coming Soon!) Part 4 Link to A03 or read below! “Sunny. Sunny,” Aaron calls in his deep, even voice, and the six-month-old Golden Retriever at your feet wags her tail, looks up in your direction.

“Daddy’s home, Sunny girl. Do you want to get daddy?” She rises to her feet, looks out the door, down the hall, then back at you, tail thumping against your desk chair. “Go get daddy.” She takes off running, and you smile, turn back to your work. You can hear the jingle of her tags as Aaron scratches her neck—she’s probably two seconds from flopping onto her back for a belly rub, which, you know, you completely get—and his voice as he asks her if she’s had a good day.

If anyone doesn’t believe Aaron is a soft, gooey marshmallow of a man beneath the buttoned-up federal agent exterior, you welcome them to witness one exchange between him and his dog.

A few minutes later, he walks into your office, Sunny at his heels, and you look up, raise your eyebrows. “Oh, is it my turn to be greeted now?” you tease, and you stand, meet him for a kiss.

“Not jealous, are you?”

“Only a little, but I’ll let you make it up to me.” He wraps an arm around your waist, smooths a hand up your back, kisses you again, but this time it’s slower, warmer, and you’re a little breathless when he pulls back.

“Planning on making it up to you tonight—or, all weekend, actually. Derek offered to watch Sunny, and I pulled some strings and was able to rent us a cabin near the national park. I thought maybe we could get away, get some fresh air, hike the trails? I know it’s not the beach, but on short notice I thought you might enjoy it.”

“Are you kidding?” you ask with a grin, holding onto his arms. This is totally unexpected, so thoughtful it makes your chest ache. You lean up to kiss him repeatedly, soft and sweet. “Thank you, baby, really. I can’t tell you how excited I am.”

“You’re welcome. I should have thought of something like this sooner; I’m sorry I’ve been a little oblivious.” He frowns, and you move your hands to his face, guide him down for a deeper kiss.

“I know you have a lot on your plate, and I love our life exactly as is—going away with you is just a bonus.”

“Well it’s a bonus you deserve,” he says, pulling you closer. “I want to be more attentive; I don’t want to fall back into my old habits.”

“You’re very attentive; I wasn’t exactly forthcoming with my thoughts, so I can’t blame you for not reading my mind. Let’s promise to talk more about things that matter,” you suggest; he agrees, and you kiss again before heading to your bedroom to pack your bags. After getting the car packed for the trip, you head to Derek's to drop off Sunny and her things—with lots of pets and kisses for Sunny, and a tight, appreciative hug for Derek—and then stop for dinner on your way to the cabin.

Aaron is so light and happy, you almost wish you’d gotten drunk and asked for a vacation sooner, even if it is only a weekend away.

The cabin is beautiful, all deep cherry wood and high ceilings, a stone fireplace; there is a swimming pool, a hot tub, and a finished wraparound deck that overlooks the forest. It promises peace, quiet, solitude—a perfect place for you and Aaron to reconnect and spend some one-on-one time together.

You unpack your clothes and toiletries, and Aaron unpacks the kitchen things: coffee, water, and wine, breakfast ingredients, snacks. You meet him downstairs when you’re finished, and he is sitting out on the patio with two glasses of wine on the table in front of him. You feel a little like you’ve died and gone to heaven.

“You’re so good to me,” you tell him when you step out onto the deck. You intend to sit down in the chair across from him, but he reaches out, curls a hand around your forearm and guides you to sit in his lap instead. You wrap an arm around his neck, loosely drape the other over his chest, look up at his gentle face. “So very good to me.”

“All I want is to be good to you; I just want to make you happy,” he murmurs, and he leans in to kiss you—it’s a very specific type of kiss, slow and passionate, one that makes you crave his touch on your bare body, and you make a soft, needy sound against his mouth, pull back with a smile.

“What do you have planned for me in that beautiful, brilliant brain?” Aaron ducks his head, smiles a bit bashfully; you love that your compliments still affect him after all this time, quite partial to the shy, serious man who stole your heart in the first place.

“Well, I was thinking wine, clearly… maybe a soak in the hot tub? I turned it on, brought out some towels—did you happen to pack a swimsuit?” He smooths a hand over your hip, your ass, and you cling to him a bit more tightly.

“I didn’t, but that won’t stop from getting in that hot tub with you.” He looks confused, and you raise your eyebrows, give him a moment to let it sink in.

“Skinny dipping?” he says, looking simultaneously surprised and turned on by the prospect. You laugh softly.

“Yes. It’s private back here, no neighbors close by, and I think it would be a lot of fun. I won’t try to force you to join me, you know I won’t, but if I could convince you somehow, please let me know.” You brush your fingers through the hair at the back of his head, lean in for an unhurried kiss, slowly dragging your tongue along the length of his, and it’s clear he’s quickly convinced. He grips your thigh with a firm hand, moves the other to the back of your head to keep you close, keep you kissing.

He’s not always forceful, not always rough, but there’s no denying what it does to you when he grabs you a little harder, kisses a little deeper; you want to give yourself to him even more than you usually do, want him to do what he wants, take what he wants. You want to give him everything.

When he breaks the kiss, you press two more against his lips, then pull back and tug your sweater over your head. He runs a hand over your breast, squeezes through the fabric of your bra, then slides it up to wrap lightly around your throat. It’s tender but possessive, something else that never fails to drive you crazy; the first time he did it during sex you had an orgasm almost instantly, and there’s just something about having his broad palm and thick fingers there that makes you lose your mind.

“Fuck,” you groan, though it’s more like a whisper, and he moves his other hand to your pants, slips the button free, hovers. “Please, Aaron.” He flicks his eyes up, stares into yours, pulls you toward him for another kiss, and you moan against his lips. The moment he releases you, you shift up, out of his lap, and you push down your pants and panties, unhook your bra.

You’re both breathing heavily, especially when Aaron looks over your body like he hasn’t seen it a million and one times already, his gaze hot and lingering; you reach for him, and he stands, lets you get him out of his clothes too. It’s clearly a little uncomfortable for him to feel so exposed, even though you are in a private space, so you run your hands over him gently, press your lips against his body, whisper soothing words of encouragement and remind him that you can go inside whenever he likes.

The hot tub is in-ground, square, made of stone, and you both sink into the blissfully hot water with matching sighs; the night is warm, with a cool breeze, and you sit down next to him, let him pull you into his lap again. You smile, tug the hair tie off of your wrist and sweep your hair up into a high bun, wrap your arms around his shoulders.

“Not so bad,” you murmur, smoothing your hand over his chest, “is it?” He holds you close with a hand on your lower back, drags the other up your stomach, over your breasts. Your mouth falls open in a soft gasp, and he does it again, his rough palm catching your nipple, rubbing against it.

“Not bad at all.” You run your tongue over your lips, grind in his lap—he’s already hard, and you can’t blame him, feel like you’re halfway to a climax as is. This is extremely hot, and not just because you’re still surprised he even agreed to it. “I want to kiss you—just kiss you for a little bit. You’re not too turned on for that, are you?” You close your eyes briefly, sigh, because he clearly plans to torture you, drag out the foreplay; eventually, you shake your head.

“I’m not too turned on for that.” He hums, pleased, and then brings a hand to your throat again, pulls you in for a long, wet kiss. You roll your hips against his, slowly and sensually, and he moves his hands over your body, squeezes your ass hard with both of them. “Mmm. Want you.” He squeezes again and you grip his shoulders firmly, whimper. “Aaron.”

“Should I let you up? Or should I make you come right here in my lap?” he asks, and then he decides on his own, moves a hand between your legs and slides it over your pussy. You moan softly, looking down at him in a way you hope conveys your desire, your desperation; he seems to understand, holds your ass and pushes two fingers inside you, presses deeply. “Kiss me, baby,” he breathes, and you do, gasping against his mouth as he pumps his hand.

Your kisses are graceless, eager, and you ride his hand, weave your fingers into his hair to keep him close, to stay connected. Eventually you just breathe against his lips, unable to focus on even a messy kiss; he adds a third finger, watches your face like you’re mesmerizing as you get close, as if he hasn’t seen this look a million and one times too.

“I want you to come hard, I want to hear it. I want the neighbors we don’t have to hear it.” He smiles, just a little, and so do you, and then you kiss him with renewed fervor, slam down against his hand, water sloshing around you; you come moaning, gripping his shoulders hard, and he brings his wet hand up to hold tightly to the back of your neck, so you’ll make eye contact as you ride out the final wave of pleasure, clench around his fingers. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he groans, and you wet your lips, panting, lean in for another kiss.

“I want to blow you,” you speak over his mouth, earning a soft sound of desire, and he kisses you deeply once more before guiding you off of his lap. He moves up a step, so just his legs are in the water, and you climb between them, run your hands over his thighs. “Gorgeous too.” You look up at him, and he puts both hands on your face, pulls you in for a kiss; you grope at his chest, slip your fingers over the wet hair that trails down his stomach, then bite him there softly when he lets you go, leans back on his arms.

You wrap a hand easily around his straining cock, press the other against his thigh; his sharp intake of breath when you cover him with your mouth is enough to get you wet again, and you shift a bit uncomfortably—the stone is hard beneath your knees, the ache between your legs back in full force, but you would stay in this position for hours if that’s what Aaron wanted.

Now, though, he just looks like he wants to come, so you suck—tight, shallow, wet, strokes—and hum, working your hand with each dip of your head. “Oh, yes. So good,” he rasps, and he curls forward so he can run his hands down your back. It brings his body closer, his scrunched stomach brushing against your nose as you tilt your head up, and you whine, lift off of him, press open mouthed kisses to his stomach and chest, everywhere you can reach. “Fuck. Are you wet again, baby?”

“Yes,” you sigh, kissing him, touching him with your free hand—the other is still pumping his cock even though your mouth has abandoned it. “Touch me, please touch me.” He leans in a bit further, puts one hand on the back of your neck and one over your clit, rubs quickly and pulls you in for another hot, hard kiss. “Yes, touch me, Aaron, touch me.” You’re so eager for more—more pleasure, more of his pleasure—that you literally can’t stop talking, so you slide your mouth over him again just to occupy it, just so you don’t sound as needy as you feel.

“You’ll come for me again,” he murmurs, cupping your head with his broad palm—no pressure, just a reverent touch. “You’ll swallow for me, come for me; you’d do anything for me.” You would, you have no doubts, and you just hum your agreement, keep sucking until he groans, guides you off of him, to his lips. “Inside,” he mumbles through a kiss, and you take his face in your hands, deepening it, clinging to each other.

“You want to go inside?” you ask, breathless.

“I want to go inside… come inside you.” He puts his hands on your waist, urges you to stand, and you step out of the hot tub, take a few dripping steps over to the chair with the towels laid across it. You wrap one around Aaron, rub it roughly over his body; it starts as something sexy, but then it must tickle, and he laughs. You can’t help laughing when he does, and when he dries you off, you dissolve into giggles, wrap your arms around his neck and let him lift you, carry you into the cabin and toward the bedroom, pausing to grab the half-full glasses of wine before you go.

You set them down on the dresser, and he sets you down on the bed, hovers over you with a grin. He pushes your legs apart, wide on either side of his hips, and you surge forward for a kiss; he wraps his fingers in the sheets and pushes inside you, earning a short, high moan. You sink back against the bed, tilt your hips up, and he thrusts quickly, roughly, makes you sigh.

“Yeah, fuck, Aaron.” You curl a hand around the back of his neck, grip his forearm with the other, and grind up against him, watch his face as it shifts from determined to desperate for release.

“Won’t last,” he pants, and you shake your head, pull him down to your lips.

“Don’t have to. Just come, baby.” He groans, wraps his hand around the wooden headboard and uses it for leverage, slams hard into you; you fuck yourself against him, even harder when he comes, so eager to catch up, to meet him there. He leans in, face against your throat, fingers tight on your shoulder, and thrusts so deeply and roughly that your entire body tenses when your orgasm follows, and then you shake in his embrace while you catch your breath.

He brushes his mouth over your throat, your jaw, and you just lay together a moment, chests heaving, before he climbs off of the bed and grabs the wine. You both drink it down in one long sip, then laugh breathlessly once more, kiss again.

You get cleaned up, pull on pajamas, and Aaron builds a fire; you cuddle up on the sofa in front of it, drink enough wine to get a little tipsy, and talk and laugh, make out just to do it, with no end goal in mind. Time passes by slowly, and here, that’s perfect; you’d stop time if you could, spend the rest of your life warmed from the inside out with Aaron’s voice in your ear. The next morning, you wake up at a decent hour, make coffee while Aaron starts breakfast. It’s a bit chillier than the day before, so you wrap a blanket around your shoulders and take your coffee outside, look out at the forest and its silent stillness. Between Aaron’s work and yours, and now Sunny, life is rarely so peaceful, so quiet, and you just stand there and drink it in for a moment before Aaron comes out, clinking plates and silverware, disturbing your solitude in the most perfect of ways. You turn back, and he smiles, sets down your food, and you cross the deck, press a warm kiss to his lips, and sit down for breakfast.

The two of you get showered, dressed, and you drive to the national park to hike before it gets too warm; the trails range from easy to difficult, and you stick with something moderate, since you’re not very familiar with the park. The path you take is mostly dry, but lush and green, surrounded by thick trees and lots of plant life. Aaron, as it turns out, is quite the amatuer botanist, points out random flowers when he notices them, tells you their scientific names like a nerdy boy scout; it’s really very adorable.

“Baptisia australis—Blue Wild Indigo,” he says, pointing to a plant with small, light purple buds. “It’s a member of the pea family.”

“The pea family,” you repeat, taking care to step over a fallen log. He hums.

“I’m sure you know Indigo plants are used for dye, but indigenous people also use them in medicinal teas.” He takes another two dozen steps, kneels down to pick up a pretty golden-yellow flower that has fallen off of its plant. “Oenothera fruticosa—Southern Sundrops. Hummingbirds love them.” He turns to you, offers the flower, then a slow, tender kiss.

He moves on, tells you about at least ten other flowers along the path; you spend so much time smiling at his exuberance that your face is more sore than any other part of you by the time the hike is over.

You are ready for lunch, and a dip in the pool, and maybe a foot massage that leads to something more, but almost the second you walk in the door, Aaron’s phone rings. He looks down at it, then you, and you shoot him a soft smile.

Some things are just too good to be true.

He sighs, answers and brings it to his ear. You pass him, pat him on the back, and head to the kitchen to make some coffee to go.

“Hotchner. Yes, the family annihilator. Me specifically, JJ?” He looks over at you fondly as you pull a travel mug down from the cupboard, almost like part of him is surprised that you accepted his fate so easily, where the other part is very unsurprised. “We’re not far, but… No, it’s okay. I’ll be at the precinct in an hour. Thank you.”

“Family annihilator doesn’t sound good,” you say after he’s ended the call, stepped into the kitchen with you. “Do you have to travel?”

“It’s local, just an interrogation. We could be back here together by dinnertime.” He comes up behind you, runs his hands down your arms, leans in to brush his nose over your throat. “I’m sorry. I promise I’ll make it up to you.” He sounds resigned, a bit sad, and though it’s inconvenient, it’s not something he should be beating himself up over. You knew what you were getting into when he had to leave in the middle of your third date to fly out for a case, and you’ve accepted that his work is unpredictable, and urgent, and important, would never make him choose between you or the job—because it’s not the right thing to do, but also because you’re fairly certain he would not be able to choose you.

“I know you will; you always do.” Your tone is not sarcastic or biting, but soft, and you turn your head, tilt it back to receive a warm kiss on the mouth. “You’d better get changed. Can I come along for the ride? You can stash me away in a corner at the precinct,” you say, following him upstairs; he’d packed a spare suit just in case something like this happened, and you know he wishes he could shower first, but there isn’t time.

He agrees easily, and you change your own clothes, slipping into dark jeans and a clingy black sweater, a pair of low-heeled boots. He gathers up his badge and gun, looks every bit the super special FBI agent you know and love—but he still smells like the forest, and a very large part of you is uncomfortably aroused by that fact.

You focus on that, and the thought of how he’ll make this up to you, for the entirety of the drive; Aaron is quiet, shifting gears into his calm, composed authoritative mode, but you can tell he’s aware of what you’re thinking, feeling, that it’s running through the back of his mind as well. When you arrive at the precinct, JJ is there, and you stand by quietly while she brings Aaron up to speed. Apparently a man has killed his estranged wife, children, and mother-in-law, and there is evidence, but a confession would speed things up considerably, and the district attorney has called in a favor to ensure that Aaron is the one to interrogate the man. He leaves you with a kiss on the cheek, and you and JJ make small talk before it dissolves into silence.

“Do you want to watch the interrogation? Two-way glass,” she says with a smile, and you are intrigued by the prospect. You’ve never seen Aaron in action at work before, or at least not in a way that’s any more exciting than filling out forms. She takes you to the large window, where you can see Aaron and the suspect engaged in tense conversation.

He opens up a file, spreads out photographs of what must be the man’s family; you can’t make them out, but they appear to be gruesome, if the concentration of crimson that covers the pages is any indication. The man doesn’t flinch the way you would expect, but Aaron seems to know where to proceed with that knowledge; he continues questioning him, and at one point he gets in the man’s face, shouts, and slams his hand on the table.

You can’t help it, you jump, and JJ reaches out to rest a hand on your shoulder.

“You okay? I know it can be intense,” she says, and you compose yourself, nod.

“Yeah I’m okay. I just… he’s never raised his voice to me. Not once in almost six years,” you muse; you’ve never thought much of it, because a man shouldn’t be yelling at his girlfriend, right? This isn’t extraordinary, just normal behavior, but it makes you feel something deep and moving anyway. You excuse yourself, head to the bathroom and splash a little cold water on your cheeks; by the time you return, Aaron is already out of interrogation, and he and JJ are smiling.

“That was fast,” you say when you approach, and JJ pats Aaron on the arm.

“Now you know why the DA pulled all those strings to get him here. He makes the BAU look superhuman.” He shakes his head, never one to take a compliment without putting up a fight, and they chat a little more before Aaron puts a hand on your back to signal that it’s time to go.

You look at your phone when you get into the car. Thirty-six minutes have passed since you turned it off on your way into the building.

You always kind of figured, but for the first time you can see for yourself: Aaron is kind of badass. You stop to have dinner on the way back to the cabin again, but this time there is less laughter and more lingering looks, soft, eager touches. The atmosphere between you is the same as it was in the car on the way to the precinct, the familiar tension between two people who want each other but can’t, or won’t, or are waiting to say it.

It makes you feel pretty good, that the two of you have this kind of chemistry after all this time.

When you get back to the cabin, you both undress, and Aaron suggests showering together in the master bathroom’s large glass shower. You agree, eager to put your hands on him, your mouth on him; the way you touch is exploratory, as if you haven’t done this countless times over the course of your relationship, as if you weren’t in a very similar position just last night. You wash each other, slow and sensual, but tender, and then dry off, and kiss, walk backward toward the turned-down bed.

“I want to take our time tonight,” Aaron murmurs as he hovers over you. You nod, lost in the haze of his hands on you, the smell of his soap, toothpaste, the feel of cool sheets beneath your back—these are sensations, scents, you are intimately familiar with, but they never fail to make your heart pound, your breath quicken in anticipation.

No one has ever made you feel quite so much, and even after almost six years, Aaron is capable of reducing you to your basic needs and emotions with just one sentence breathed into the space between you. He smooths his hands up your sides, over your stomach, and you’d swear time stops so the two of you can just be, so you can indulge in each other in a way that feels like going back to the beginning.

His hands move to your breasts and he squeezes them, watches your face as you react to the roughness, the pleasure, before leaning in for a hot, breathy kiss. “Mmm. Yeah,” you sigh, and he presses his lips to your throat, drags them slowly down your chest, encircles a nipple and sucks hard enough that your head falls back instantly and you moan his name.

“God, I love your body,” he tells you before moving to the other nipple. “So perfect for me.” Again, he sucks, then moves his mouth just a little to the left, bites down on your breast where you’re soft and sensitive; he sucks harder, so hard it hurts and you know you will be sore where he’s claimed you for days to come. It’s been a while since he’s done this, bruised you, covered you in bites, and he knows what it does to you, seems unsurprised when you wrap your hands around his arms for leverage and try to grind against him where he’s sprawled on top of you.

“Please, Aaron.” He groans against your skin, moves a hand to cover your pussy, lets you rub against it while he continues to lick and suck and bite until both breasts are covered in the aching, tender remnants of his kiss. You’re so close to a climax from just his mouth and your own desperate movements against the heel of his hand; when he brings his lips to yours, soft and wet, you run your hands over his shoulders and head, hips working, revel in the way your own pleasure is reflected in his face when you come.

“Fuck, baby; so good for me.” You stare up at him, panting as you try to come down, and he brushes fingers over your lips, down your throat. “Turn over?” You moan softly at his request, turn onto your stomach when he leans up over you; you spread your legs wide and he tucks his knees in behind yours, guides you back onto his cock with both hands on your ass.

You fist your hands into your pillow, work your body back against his thrusts; it’s not fast, or hard, but he knows exactly where to put his hands to drive you crazy, how to help you move. You moan together, both out of breath and quickly approaching orgasm when he pulls out, leans back against his heels.

“Mmm, come here, sweetheart.” He slides his hands under you, covers your breasts again, guides you to your knees, then shifts so you both turn, face the side of the bed, not the headboard. He presses his nose against your cheek, hooks one arm around your shoulder to tightly grip your breast in his hand, and you grab onto his arm, lean your head back against him. “I want you to watch, baby. I want you to see how gorgeous you look when you come on me.”

You lick your lips, and it’s only then that you realize he’s positioned you right in front of the full-length mirror by your side of the bed. Your eyes roll back in your head a little when you process the request—is he trying to wreck you?—and he huffs a laugh against your throat.

“Do you like that? Do you want to watch me move inside you?” You nod lazily, lean your back against his chest, and he presses his cock into you, thrusts smoothly but quickly. Your mouth falls open in a soft moan, and you rock against him, digging your fingertips into his arm.

It’s so erotic, watching the movements of your bodies—Aaron’s deep pumps of hips against your ass as he disappears inside you, your thighs flexing to keep up. He squeezes your breast, which still aches from the hickies he covered you with, and then that hand slides up to your throat and you can see the bruises in all of their rich, vivid glory. “Oh, fuck, Aaron.”

“It’s been a while since I got to take you apart like this; you’re so perfect for me, so beautiful. Covered in me, full of me.” He squeezes your throat softly, just enough pressure to draw your attention there, and you sigh.

“Yes, yes. Harder,” you breathe, and he pounds against you; you watch his face in the mirror, can see that he’s breathless, close, and you bounce roughly back against him, moan and come when he’s pressed exactly where you need him. He thrusts a few more times, right there, and you don’t stop coming, just clench around him and ride it out, watch both of your expressions shift when he loses it inside you. “Oh, god, yes.”

“Yes, baby, just like that. Just like that.” He snaps his hips hard, mouths at your shoulder, and you’re reduced to whimpers until he removes his hand from your throat, pulls your hair back away from your face, tilts your chin toward him for a kiss. “So good: did so good, felt so good,” he mutters against your lips, and you both kiss a little messy, soft. This one has left you both a little come-dumb, and you press back against him, spent.

“Mmm. I fucking love you,” you sigh, and you focus on him—and maybe a little on the mirror—when he rumbles a reply and slips you his tongue. You pick Sunny up from Derek’s the next day—she runs to Aaron first, no big deal, so you talk with Derek, thank him again for watching her on such short notice.

“I’m happy to take her any time, she’s a real sweetheart. Did you enjoy your getaway?” You nod, smile, sigh a little wistfully.

“Yeah, it was really nice. He promised me a beach vacation for our honeymoon, though, and I plan to sunbathe on an island so remote his cell phone is rendered useless.” You look up at him, slap him lightly on his bicep. “So get better at your job, will you? When he’s my husband I’m going to be much less lenient if my date night gets interrupted.”

Aaron looks up from his position on the floor, where he’s giving Sunny the belly rub of her life.

“When I’m your husband,” he says with a smile, and you roll your eyes, thank Derek again, and wrangle your family out the door.

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#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x female reader #hotch x female reader #hotch x reader #prompt #dad bod hotch

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proceduralpassion · 2 years

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I Don't Wanna Be Unfair | 04

Pairing: Jax Teller x OC (McKenzie Gilbert)

Summary/synopsis: Fresh off a broken engagement, McKenzie Gilbert has a one night stand with a random guy she never plans to see again. Soon after, their paths cross, which complicates several situations at hand.

Chapter warning(s): language

WC: ~4.5k

“Is that red velvet?”

McKenzie glanced up from her perch on the porch steps as she registered Sairah’s voice. She picked up the milkshake and handed it to Sairah with a confirming nod. She was halfway finished with her own toffee-flavored shake when her younger sister arrived from her work dinner. McKenzie’s eyebrows raised at the high heels and suit jacket Sairah wore, not used to seeing her sister so done up.

In response, Sairah rolled her eyes and said, “Bite me. I came straight here from the restaurant. I bet this shake has more calories than whatever the hell kind of dish they served me.” She took a few sips before asking, “So how did it go today?”

McKenzie shrugged her shoulders in response, “About how I expected it to go. Once they found out, no one really knew how to act around me, kept looking at me like I was gonna break. Brandon, all but ignored me, except for asking me if I had told anyone yet and when’s the fastest I could get my crap out.”

She didn’t have to look at Sairah to sense the tensing in her.

“He didn’t do anything else, did he? You know I’ll fuck him up.” Her voice was hardened no matter how much she tried to sound airy and humorous.

Shaking her head and taking another sip of her shake, she responded, “Nah, I wasn’t there when he told everyone, but apparently he wasn’t exactly so forthcoming.”

“What do you mean?”

“Lisa said he made it sound like it was a mutual decision, like we both decided to call it quits,” McKenzie shrugged again, “but whatever, who cares, it’s over now.”

“Don’t you think everyone should know what happened? He shouldn’t get to hide behind some lame ‘we just decided we’re better off as friends’ shit.”

“You know how it is for him, everybody loves him.” McKenzie sighed.

“They love you, too. The fuck?” Sairah interjected.

McKenzie shook her head, practically ignoring the comment, “Anything he tells them, they have no reason not to believe him. If I say anything that counters him, it’s just gonna look like I’m trying to stir up trouble. Who would even believe me and think that I’m not just trying to save face?”

“So the alternative is to let him walk all over you?! What in the hell is wrong with you?”

“Sairah, please, just drop it,” frustration heavy in her voice, “I don’t care. It’s over. I just want to move on because at the end of the day, nothing I say is gonna change things. I don’t want to be difficult or make things difficult for everyone, I’ve done enough of that already.”

Sairah’s eyebrows furrowed deeply, “Who said you’re making things difficult, McKenzie?”

McKenzie sucked in a deep breath and looked straight ahead at the quiet neighborhood road.

“Did B tell you that?” Sairah pressed.

“Sairah…”

“He told you you make things difficult?”

Below what little composure she had, Sairah was fuming. Her fists danced at her sides as she looked at her older sister, unrecognizable from the usual no nonsense, feisty woman she had always been. She didn’t have to answer, her solemn demeanor was all the confirmation she needed. It infuriated Sairah to realize just how deep-rooted the problems in her sister’s relationship truly were.

Full disclosure, Sairah had never really liked him. Tolerated him because he was a Street Wolf. It was usually Sairah who was the solemn, reserved sister. That afforded her the luxury of sometimes being inconspicuous. And with her mother’s nosiness, she noticed a lot. So she saw straight through the bullshit and knew him to be the arrogant, narcissistic asshole that was hidden underneath the charming personality and jesting humor. Her unnerved feeling of him only intensified when he and McKenzie got together. She kept to only subtle comments and snarky cracks about him to McKenzie, but she knew her sister was going to do whatever she wanted no matter anyone’s opinion. Outright voicing her disapproval was a waste of words, even though she never hid her disinterest in their relationship.

McKenzie seemed happy, so who was Sairah to intercept that? There were even a few moments where she felt like she may have misjudged B, but they never lasted long. After a couple of years, their relationship grew turbulent and the amount of times where they were hot or cold dizzied Sairah. She’d been waiting for the other shoe to drop, for the relationship to finally end once and for all.

But then one day, McKenzie shows up to family dinner with an engagement ring on her finger. Her smile was blinding and it was quite possibly the happiest she’d ever seen her big sister. So Sairah shed any inhibitions and forbade herself from making any kind of negative comments, no matter how subtle or joking they may be. This man was going to truly be family now, she needed to learn how to play nice once and for all.

But then the honeymoon phase of their engagement was over in only a few days. Somewhere in that week’s time, McKenzie had gone from walking on sunshine to the distant and quiet woman that sat in front of her. The fallout had been worse than anything Sairah could’ve imagined, not because she had witnessed some kind of huge blowout or even physical violence, but because the sister she had always known had devolved into demureness and invisibility. Sure, she still had some moments of fierceness and headstrongness, but she had become more timid. A shell of herself. There were times that her sister’s reticence scared her, never having before associating meekness with McKenzie. She used to think her sister’s worst quality was her grudge-holding, but she’d take it back in a heartbeat if it meant McKenzie was less content in letting herself be walked over. Brandon had been the change in sharp 180, she knew that. But she didn’t exactly know what he had done or what he’s still been doing to cause such a shift in her.

Tonight, though? She was beginning to get some idea.

Hearing how she was so quick to place the blame solely on her, Sairah knew that those words weren’t hers. All their years together had to have included some kind of manipulation or grooming that led her to being so comfortable in saying those words and having that sentiment. They were words that had probably been ingrained in her over and over again for them to have come out so effortlessly.

The thought made Sairah ill.

“Let’s go inside,” McKenzie suddenly said as she hoisted herself up from the step she was sitting on, “I wanna make sure we get everything tonight so we don’t have to come back.” She unlocked the door and led a riled Sairah into the house. Sairah bit her words back and silently followed. The conversation was nowhere near done, but it was already late into the night. And also, just being in his place only further embittered Sairah, so the quicker they get out, the better.

Sairah’s eyes adjusted to the light as she came in from the nightfall. The home was pretty unfamiliar to her despite McKenzie living here for close to a year. The only two times she had been here were the first couple of days when she had moved in. It seemed only fitting that her last time at this place would be when moving her sister out.

“Alright, most of my stuff is in here.” McKenzie said as she walked upstairs to the main hallway. She stopped when she got to the second door on the left, not realizing the slowing in Sairah’s steps. Sairah took her time as she looked around and what she saw only served to unnerve her more.

The place looked like a bachelor’s pad. She did a spin as she walked up the steps and couldn’t find even one thing that looked different from the last times she was here. She was confused at the absence of McKenzie’s books lying around or any family pictures lining the walls. There was nothing she could pinpoint that looked like it belonged to McKenzie.

When she followed her sister into the guest room, her confusion only grew. There were several boxes scattered around the guest bed. Some were packed up, some were open. There was dust around the ones that were closed shut and Sairah could have sworn that that was where McKenzie had placed them when she had first moved in.

“...Did you already start packing yesterday?”

McKenzie had started on an open box when she answered, “Nah, I just grabbed a duffle bag with some stuff and left.”

Sairah paused, “Ok, so you’re telling me you never unpacked…”

Her words were gentle and careful, and she couldn’t tell whether that was for her sake or McKenzie’s.

McKenzie shrugged, nonchalantly, “The stuff I need is in the bedroom.”

Sairah shook her head sadly, “Kenz, it doesn’t even look like you live here.”

She blew air through her teeth as she traipsed to the closet. “He likes his stuff and it was his place before I moved in. We were gonna buy a new place together once we got married, so I figured…” McKenzie shrugged, leaving her statement unfinished as she grabbed some of her clothes from the guest closet, “You know I’m a pack rat, anyway.”

The sisters let the silence permeate as they worked together to fold clothes, pack belongings, and tape boxes. Sairah had gone from angered to melancholic and McKenzie was just happy for the questions to have stopped. They found a smooth rhythm together and found that they would be finishing up sooner than they thought.

It wasn’t until they were nearly done that Sairah spoke again.

“So how was SAMCRO?”

A beat passed before McKenzie spoke, “They were cool. Everyone seems to get along. They’re probably getting hammered as we speak.”

“Hmm. Maybe I’ll stop by before work and meet everyone. They’ll all be hungover, there’s no way they’re getting any work done tomorrow. Maybe while I’m there, me and B can have a chat.”

“Sairah.”

They let out matching exasperated sighs, both tired of the other. But Sairah conceded, with her hands up.

“I’m sorry.” She looked up and captured McKenzie’s eyes. “I really am. I’m sorry. I just- I hate him.”

“Okay, well let’s finish taping up these boxes and hate him together.”

Before long, Sairah was taking boxes to the car while McKenzie continued her last minute packing. She went from room to room, scavenging the area for any of her belongings. It was through that search that McKenzie realized the depth of Sairah’s words. She was right, there wasn’t much she could find that belonged to her. She’d been living here for a year, and everything she had could be boxed up and put into the backseat of her sister’s car. The sparseness made her question if she was ever really a resident here, instead of just a guest. To anyone looking from the outside, she was sure that they’d categorize her as the latter. It was sobering to think that she had never been allowed to make this place theirs and it was sobering for her to just realize this all now.

“Alright, we’ve got most of everything.” She heard Sairah’s voice coming up the steps as she stood in her now former bedroom with her last box of things. “Everything fit. There’s even room for more if-”

She paused when she noted the pensive look across her sister’s features, “What’s up?” She probed.

Snapping out of her realizations, McKenzie replied, “Uh, nothing. I’ve got the last of everything.” She held up her last box, mostly comprised of random, miscellaneous items she’d found in her final sweep of the place. “Got any more tape?”

“In the kitchen, I’ll go get it.”

“No, it’s okay, I’ll just bring it down.”

Sairah nodded in response, “Alright, well, if that’s the last of it, let’s dip.”

McKenzie only made a few steps before the box had slipped from her grasp. The opened cardboard sent the various items scattering all across the hardwood floor. With a groan, McKenzie bent down to begin retrieving the box’s contents while Sairah followed in suit. They grabbed everything in sight and McKenzie reached under the bed, where she saw her lemon squeezer roll away under.

She blindly felt around for it, waiting to feel the hard metal material. Instead, her eyes narrowed in confusion as she felt a soft material meet her hand. It was satin and when McKenzie pulled it out, she was met with the sight of a dusty pink nightgown. She silently licked her lips and closed her eyes, centering her mind.

Sairah crouched there, watching the reaction in confusion. She jumped a bit when she watched McKenzie angrily throw the material back under the bed and rise back up.

“Uh, do you not want that?”

“It’s not mine.”

She left her lemon squeezer under the bed and walked out of the room with the box grasped firmly in her hands. She hurried down the stairs and into the kitchen to tape it up, not wanting the contents to fall out again.

Sairah rigidly followed behind once the implications of her sister's words registered.

McKenzie could hear the words “piece of shit” uttered from her sister's mouth several seconds before then hearing the front door shut. Only, Sairah was in front of her, leaning against the kitchen archway.

Brandon’s voice echoed through the front hallway as he walked into the space, “McKenzie, you still here?”

McKenzie and Sairah’s eyes met and with everything in her, McKenzie poured pleading and supplication into her face. Sairah took a pause, as if she was thinking about it, before pushing herself from against her leaned position in the archway and silently stalked out of the house. It wasn’t before she threw a look of disbelief and disappointment McKenzie’s way and fiery eyes at Brandon.

There was a brief, uncomfortable air when Brandon’s eyes met Sairah’s. She almost wished he said something, anything to give her a reason to lash out, but he merely waved with a blank look on his face before heading to the kitchen.

“What’s up her ass?”

McKenzie clicked against her tongue, deciding against saying anything. The less words the better, because almost anything was bound to start a fight between them.

“I got everything, I think, but if you see anything I might have missed, just leave it at the clubhouse and I’ll get it.” Her voice was firm, succinct, and hopefully left no room for argument. She was tired of showing him weakness and she refused to leave their relationship with anything less than her head held high.

“Sounds good,” he shrugged.

With a sigh, she walked around the counter and towards him while reaching inside her pocket. The velvet box that held her engagement ring inside was now grasped between her fingers. The symbol of their forever was now his and his only.

She wordlessly handed it to him, and swiftly returned her hand to her side once she had done so. As he looked down at it, he toyed with it in his hands.

After a few seconds, he whispered, “I am sorry, McKenzie. I-I really wanted this to work.”

She bit the inside of her cheek, working to keep her tears at bay. She avoided looking away from his stare, wanting to see what lay on his features as he spoke. She wanted to find sincerity, she wanted to believe that his words were true. But she didn’t need to look at it to know that they were indeed false. She simply couldn’t ignore the nagging feeling in her gut that told her he wasn’t sorry for a damn thing. If anything, he was saying those words for her benefit.

Before she let the walls close in around her, she simply turned around towards the door. The weight of what she was leaving was hitting her full force, but she refused to let it stop her in her tracks. The long years of dysfunction, broken promises, and heartbrokenness kept her moving. She only paused long enough to open the front door and turn her head back.

Their eyes met for the last time that night, “Bye, Brandon.”

************

Jax glanced around at the party in full swing. Drinks were flowing, music was bumping, and there was unadulterated fun everywhere he looked. He had already had a few beers along with some food and whooped Opie and Rev’s ass in pool. That was about as much mayhem he was getting into tonight, but that didn’t mean the festivities were by any means mild.

Ace and Juice had started a keg competition that currently consisted of Half-Sack doing a handstand on the keg while chugging straight from the nozzle. Kozik, Bobby, and Flu were attempting to try and stay upright after the numerous shots taken between them. Happy and Chibs were currently occupying the pool table that Jax had recently vacated, attempting to pull in Rev and Opie for a game of eight-ball. Sweets had barely left the dancefloor as he bopped and swayed around with any woman who gave him the time of day, which was practically every woman, given his silky moves and suave flirtations. Everyone was having a good time and it warmed Jax’s heart to see.

Sliding his way through the crowd, Jax made his way over to Gil, who was also looking around at the expanse of the Garden and taking in all the joy and celebration. He’d been bundled up in a booth for most of the night, silently reveling in all of the jubilee. Lisa was sitting next to him and she generously handed Jax an unopened beer as he got closer to the circular booth. With a silent smile, Gil gestured for him to join them and take a seat.

“Thanks Lisa.” Jax flashed her a smile as he opened the beer.

Without any more words needing to be said, the trio sat back, relaxed, and beamed in the inaugural party of their alliance.

Meanwhile, across the bar, Rev was interrupted from making his shot as he felt his shoulders being shaken roughly. An already inebriated Brandon was behind him, flashing him the widest of smiles.

“Rev, I finally did it, man!,” He spoke jubilantly, not even paying attention to Rev’s confused eyes or the hesitant eyes of the few SAMCRO members who were playing eight-ball with Rev.

“What did you do?” Rev asked as he looked around, “Didn’t you just get here? How the hell are you already drunk?” His nose fluttered at the unwelcoming scent of alcohol hitting it.

“Ay, yo, Ace grab me a bottle of tequila!” B’s voice boomed around the bar as he yelled for some Don Julio. He turned back to Rev, “I’m officially a free man, brother,” He spoke with a wide grin on his face.

Rev’s face was still full of confusion which prompted B to go further. “She’s out the house, man! Her and Sairah just left with all her shit. She gave me the ring back and everything. Now all I gotta do is find me a dime piece to take back with me.”

Rev’s face contorted into agitation. His voice was shrouded in warning as he lowered it to speak to B.

“You might wanna cool it on the drinks, man. You just got here, pace yourself.” There was cautioning in his tone, but it didn’t seem to register in Brandon. There was a luminous gleam in his eyes and the broadest of smirks. He actually looked genuinely thrilled for his relationship to be over, not the forced kind of “I’m fine” façade that most guys might put on to save face. No, he looked like he was ready to live his best life, as if a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Rev was torn between letting him be and causing an even bigger scene. B’s drunkenness wasn’t allowing him to take any of Rev’s words seriously, but Rev knew if he raised his voice or got aggressive, it would gain more attention to everyone.

Jax was the only one who’d noticed when B walked in. He’d only initially taken a quick glance as he looked out at the rest of the party, but his eyes returned to those two as he noticed the tenseness in Rev’s stance. Whatever was going on was obviously perplexing the usually cool-headed vice president.

“Look, are you okay, man? You really don’t gotta be all tough guy about this.” Rev spoke as softly as he could over the loud music.

“This may be a shitty thing to say, but I’m actually fantastic.” Brandon shrugged his shoulders and took a large swallow straight out of the bottle that Ace had passed to him. The dopey grin hadn’t washed off in the slightest.

Rev’s eyebrows rose slightly with an inch of disappointment, “And what about McKenzie? Is she alright?”

“I don’t know, really, but then again, not my problem anymore, y’know? Even if I did ask, she’d never give me a straight answer, so what’s the point? You know how she is, always making things difficult.”

Rev opened his mouth to speak, but B cut in, ready to change the subject.

“All that matters is that I finally get to have some fun!” He moved to brush past him, but Rev planted a firm hand against his chest and blocked him from going further.

“Aye man, think for a minute. Do what you want, but you just broke up with McKenzie. It ain’t a good look to be wildin’ out, not in front of Gil.”

“What does it matter, she ain’t here and we’re not together. Besides, I got some catching up to do,” his words were to Rev, but his eyes were on a random woman across the bar, nursing a coke and rum. “Later, man.”

The night continued to wear on, filled with music, drinks, and festivities. Jax had found himself at the bar, partaking in a few shots with Happy and Sweets. Gil had taken Lisa out on the dance floor for a few numbers, enjoying themselves to Bobby’s karaoke singing. Opie, Flu, and Chibs were the first ones to retire for the night not long ago, but vied for crashing upstairs instead of riding home. Ace, Half-Sack, and Juice were somehow still going heavy on the drinks, transitioning into some weird kind of video game trivia contest where getting the wrong answer resulted in taking jello shots. Rev had gone to try and settle Brandon down once again. Jax couldn’t make out what their earlier conversation was, but it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure he was trying to keep Brandon on the straight and narrow right about now.

Jax debated whether he was ready to go home or not. His body was beginning to wear down on him and it’s not like he had anywhere super important to go tomorrow. Everyone would be too busy nursing their hangovers for them to get actual business done. But Jax had yet to make his move, still perched on the bar stool, eating stale peanuts.

“You good, Jax?” Lisa’s out-of-breath voice was beginning to calm as she leaned against the back of the bar.

He nodded as he looked at her grabbing a bottle of water. “Yeah. You tired yourself out there, huh?” He asked as he gestured towards the dance floor that was becoming less populated as the early morning hours crept in.

Lisa giggled. “Yeah, I’m not old, but I also ain’t that young anymore. Gil and I used to close out a dance floor, no matter the occasion. Wedding, patchover, birthday, you name it.”

They shared a laugh together.

“So… I think Flu mentioned in the club meeting earlier that you have another daughter? Didn’t see her or McKenzie tonight.” Jax wondered if his questioning came across as subtle as he wanted it to. He wasn’t sure why he was asking or inquiring about McKenzie, but as soon as the curiosity spiked him, he couldn’t help but ponder. “Pretty much everyone else was here, but they weren’t. Was just wondering…”

His questioning didn’t pass by Lisa’s own inquisitiveness, but she also didn’t let on that she found his inquiries peculiar.

“Sairah had a work meeting tonight and she’s kind of a wallflower, anyway. Doesn’t really like parties, but she’s around pretty often. McKenzie… Well, these days she avoids this place like the plague.”

“‘Cause of Brandon.” Jax surmised.

Lisa merely looked at him and he couldn’t quite decipher the carefulness on her face. Before he could apologize for potentially overstepping, she spoke.

“Hmm, you pick up on things quick. Although, I guess the break up makes things somewhat self-explanatory.”

“Is she doing alright?” He questioned, watching the older woman take a pause and think through her words with a sigh.

“She’s hanging in there, definitely not taking it as well as B. I think the whole damn club is taking it harder than him,” She replied with bitterness in her tone. Then, she waved a hand as if to calm herself from getting agitated. “She’ll be okay. She’s a Gilbert, she’ll bounce back strong. I’ve been meaning to ask, by the way, do you two know each other?”

Jax felt his breath hitch in his throat. His mind blanked for a second, but thankfully he still had one more shot in front of him. He picked it up and as nonchalantly as possible responded, “Nah, why do you ask?” before kicking it back.

“I saw you kept looking at her earlier at brunch, just figured maybe you knew her from somewhere.” She shrugged as she held her hand out for the now empty shot glass from him.

“Nah, we don’t know each other.” He responded with a reassuring smirk, as he internally chose his words carefully, “I just thought she looked familiar, I guess.”

“Hmm. I just didn’t know if you guys were friends or something. She could really use some. With everything going on…” Lisa paused, as if she was reconsidering her words.

Jax prodded, “What?”

Lisa sighed and looked at him, “Everyone here, they all love McKenzie, she’s family. But it’s different. Brandon is a member. So even if they don’t mean to, I’m just afraid they’re gonna side with him. You may not understand it from this side, but I know you know what I mean. Just the whole club culture, in general.” She vented. “McKenzie doesn’t really have a lot of friends outside of the club, so I guess I just worry. I don’t even know why I’m telling you this, I’m not trying to pit you against either side, that shouldn’t even be your concern.”

“Nah, it’s okay.” Jax assured her, “You’re just doing what a good mom does, worrying about her kids. I won’t take sides, I promise. I’m just trying to get along with everyone and make sure everyone gets along with me.”

Lisa nodded in understanding and a glint of approval, “Smart. The best presidents are diplomatic,” She mused with a chuckle, which he also joined in on.

“But even though I’m not trying to get involved, doesn’t mean you can’t vent if you need to.” He smiled, which she mirrored.

“I like you, Jax Teller,” she declared with a point of her finger.

A/N: Reblogging this doubles as a "Fuck Brandon" button so please press it, thanks!

Anyway, things will be ramping UP in the next couple of chapters so I'm really excited for y'all to see what happens next. I actually cut some of the scenes from this chapter, but if y'all are interested in me posting them as kind of like "deleted scenes" I could do that. Nothing vital is missing, just a little more backstory and building of relationships.

I hope y'all enjoyed! I wanna thank y'all for all the love and support you've shown this story. Pls continue to like, reblog, and leave reviews. I really like to hear what y'all think!

Taglist: @drabbles-mc @ocfairygodmother @youlovetkay @est1887 @rebelwrites @hey-taylor-hey @brownsugarcoffy @kmhappybunny240 @readsalot73

#sons of anarchy #jax teller #jax teller x oc #jax teller x black oc #idwbu fic #passionatewrites fics

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ghirahimbo · 3 years

Note

55 - RevaLink

I always love people interpretations of them figuring out how to kiss

I'm way too lazy to go look up the exact wording of the prompt, but it had something to do with awkward kisses? So here you go :D

Word count: 1363. Rated... T, probably? Could be any established revalink, though I had Pinesong-verse in mind.

The soft chirp of restless crickets signaled yet another nightfall, their high-pitched calls insistent, yet distant enough to fade into gentle ambiance. Wind whistled through the leafy forest, not as cold as the breezes through Rito Village that carried the chill of Hebra, but still cool enough that the Hylian sprawled across Revali’s chest was a welcome source of warmth and not an unbearable furnace. With the dinner fire burned down to embers, Link had laid his bedroll out beneath a tree and promptly abandoned it in favor of crawling into Revali's hammock instead—a tradition now, on cool nights like this one.

Though Link often fell asleep the instant he curled up, tonight he laid awake, his silence somehow thoughtful as he ran his hand along Revali’s beak. Revali was too far gone himself to think much of it, herded gently towards sleep by the rocking hammock and rhythmic stroke against his face.

Stroke… stroke… stroke… poke.

"Can you feel that?"

The rhythm disrupted, Revali’s bleary eyes cracked open.

"What?"

"Can you feel that?" Link repeated, poking Revali’s beak again.

...The insufferable man actually needed an answer. Grunting, Revali shifted around beneath him until his wing was freed.

"Inane," he muttered, flicking a finger at Link's nose. "Can you feel that?"

Scrunching up his face, Link went on undeterred. He'd long since learned not to take Revali’s moods too seriously.

"It's just—" Link stretched one leg out as far as it would go, pressing the tip of his largest toe against one of Revali’s long talons. "I don't think you can feel this very well… so I wondered if it was the same up here?"

He stroked the length of Revali’s long beak up and down again in demonstration, and it took everything in him not to shiver. Ah.

"No, it's…" How to explain while caught beneath that distracting caress? "I can feel that you're touching my talon, if not much else… but the beak is more…"

"Sensitive," Link finished, catching it in both his hands now. This time Revali did shiver, his feathers ruffling lightly.

"Mmm."

Presuming Link's curiosity satisfied with no further questions forthcoming, Revali closed his eyes, seeking out that soft space of sleep once more. His heart thumped just slightly harder than normal, and he breathed in deeply, hoping to settle—

"But is it the same all the way up?" Link asked, poking now at the tip of Revali’s beak, and his eyes snapped back open. Walking his fingers again up its length, Link met Revali’s baleful stare with a questioning look. So he was feeling experimental tonight, was he?

"I could still banish you to your own bed," Revali grumbled, though Link didn't even bat an eye. With an explosive sigh, he knocked Link's hands aside to brush at his own beak vigorously, trying to relieve some of the tingle of stimulation. "I feel things… less… towards the tip, and more along the base. Does that satisfy your midnight inquisition?"

"Almost." Though Revali couldn't quite make out his face in the darkness, Link's voice was just a bit too innocent as he inched up Revali’s chest, propping himself on his elbows for leverage. "So you're saying that this doesn't feel as good as this?" And he pressed his lips twice against Revali’s beak—first at its very tip, and again three inches up.

Revali gave himself a moment to clear his throat before responding.

"They're both… fine," he said. In the dim light of the stars, he could just see Link’s lips purse.

"Fine," Link repeated, and placed another Hylian kiss halfway up his beak. The tip of his tongue peeked out this time, leaving the smallest impression of wetness behind. "But this is better?"

"Marginally." Revali spared a moment's pride for how collected he managed to sound—not at all reflective of how he felt. "To be honest, the difference is too minuscule to really—"

"This is better, though," Link said decisively, his kisses moving closer to the corner of Revali’s beak. From the floundering depths of his mind, Revali agreed, though whether from the placement of the kiss or its confidence he couldn't have said even to himself. "And this…"

He ran a devious finger down the underside of Revali’s beak, and Revali very nearly whimpered. Link had discovered that particular point of sensitivity early on, standing just short enough beside Revali to reach it easily.

"This spot should be the best of all—"

As Link's treacherous lips approached, Revali quickly turned his head. He stopped short, and a taut silence stretched between them. Then he sighed, drawing back to rest his head again on Revali’s chest. From so close, Link couldn't possibly miss his fluttering heart.

"It does feel good, right?" Link asked, his quiet voice muffled by feathers. Swallowing, Revali nodded. "But you don't like it." Another, shorter pause. "Are you really that tired?"

"I can't… reciprocate," Revali said stiffly, finally trusting his voice enough to speak. "Your way of kissing. I can't…"

He had observed the Hylian method of kissing before, watching more astutely in recent days now that it had practical application, and—well, putting aside how messy and strange that mashing together of soft lips seemed, he was nonetheless incapable of replicating it. As for the Rito method of nuzzling, he had tried it a few times and Link had put up with it well enough, but without the friction of rubbing beaks he suspected there was little exciting about it.

"I don't feel comfortable receiving where I cannot give in return," Revali said at last, hoping that made his point clear. He thought it had, though Link still huffed against his chest.

"I can't exactly reciprocate when you braid my hair," Link pointed out dryly. "Or at least, you wouldn't want me to."

Despite his discomfort, Revali couldn't help but grunt in amused agreement. If size equalled dexterity then Link's tiny Hylian fingers should have made the tightest, most intricate braids, but that had so far not proven to be the case.

"It's not the same."

"Well…" Link's voice grew more muffled as he pressed further into Revali's chest feathers, and Revali had to lean forward to catch his words. "Well, um. I mean. You could try that, uh… nipping thing? I've seen other Rito do it." His last mumbled words were barely audible. "With their beaks."

"Nipping," Revali repeated blankly, casting around in his mind for what Link might have seen. "You mean grooming? Because I already—that is, you don't really have any feathers for me to…"

"Oh!" Link said weakly. Intrigued, Revali noticed that the face pressed against him had warmed considerably—practically a furnace now despite the cold wind. "Is that what they were…? No, it's fine." His voice strengthened, his head lifting a fraction. "It's fine. I don't mind if you can't kiss me back, you know. If you don't like it I'll stop, but… I like to think I could make you feel… good."

Craning around again so that he hovered at the point where the underside of Revali's beak met his neck, Link still waited the long moments it took for Revali to jerk his head in assent before moving in further, nipping at the tender spot with his lips again and again as Revali’s breath caught. This… wasn't so bad, really. Loving Link had always felt like some form of surrender. Maybe this once he could just… accept.

Nipping…

Link's slender ears hovered just to the side of Revali’s beak, turned pink by a mixture of cold and fading embarrassment. Those had proven sensitive to the brush of Revali’s feathers before, so maybe…

Experimentally, he pulled his beak free to nip at one of the tips, not hard enough to break the skin but still firm enough to be felt—and Link let out a strangled gasp. Interesting.

"Oh," he breathed, jerking back to stare at Revali wide-eyed. "Oh, yes."

Very interesting.

This time, it was Revali who pursued with a devious look of his own—not that Link put up much of a fight, taking to surrender much more easily than Revali ever had. Maybe there was reciprocity to be found here after all.

#revalink #my writing #writing prompts #this is barely edited so #i hope it's fine 😊#pinesong

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scuttle-buttle · 3 years

Text

Chapter 5

WC: 1526

Rated: M

Chapter Tags: angst, mentions of physical congenital defects, name calling, Freud, mention of psychological disorders, mention of disabilities

🧠

Maybe it was naïve of you to hope for an apology from him after the incident in the classroom. He was a dick, after all.

Six weeks into the term and things had not gotten better, but in fact much worse. Every little thing he did drove you up a wall. He would talk to himself out loud about who knows what. He would ask you your thoughts and opinions on the theories he studied, and then try to challenge everything you said. He would make you feel small as he spoke down to you or he would laugh at your ideas. He would ask for help with the dumbest things too, like picking up pens and typing up all his notes. And worst of all, he would just watch you. It probably wasn’t really all that creepy, he didn’t actually give you those vibes, but you felt like a bug under a microscope.

The only time you could tolerate the doctor was when he was giving his lectures. It was like he was a totally different person. Gone was the calculating and stubborn doctor, and in his place stood a thoughtful, passionate, intellectual that tried to see the world from as many facets as possible. He was so incredibly open minded. You'd even seen him crack a smile or two.

You wondered what he might be like if that was his personality all the time. Would the two of you get along better and argue less? Would he think more highly of you, and not just as some dumb assisstant? You doubt it.

“-And then he handed me a stack of notebooks and asked me to type everything up. All his handwritten notes. Like oh my god, get with the times and just type them the first go yourself.” You were set upside down on Bitsy’s bed. This week Kreizler had amped up your workload, so of course you had to vent to your friends.

Feeling the blood pool in your head you roll over and sit up with a huff. “He’s just so strange… and he’s left handed but to the extreme. I don’t think I’ve seen him use his right hand once the entire time we’ve worked together. Like how odd is that?”

“Maybe he’s got OCD or something?” Margo, your mutual friend suggests.

You contemplate what she said. Perhaps he did have something else going on? The more you think about it the more you realize he really didn’t ever use his right hand; when he asked for your assistance it was always for a two-handed job. Perhaps… You are broken out of your trance when Bitsy interjects.

“You need to either find a new hobby to distract yourself or you need to hate-fuck the guy already.” She doesn’t look up from her phone.

Her comment catches you so off guard you choke on your own spit. Margo pats your back as you overcome the coughing fit. “Bitsy what the actual fuck?” She just gives you a ‘what?’ look. Clearly she’s grown two heads to even consider suggesting that to you.

“It’s not so crazy. You like older guys, you said it yourself that he’s smart and he’s cute. Maybe this is what you both need. Get out some frustration.” She tosses her phone to the bed. “And to be honest I’d like to be able to talk to you about literally anything other than how much you can’t stand the ‘good doctor dickwad’.”

Your mouth is gaping at her in your shock. Her words settle in you like a bag of rocks. “Oh my god I really do talk about him that much don't I?” Shame and embarrassment wash over you as you realize that yes, the majority of your day is spent complaining about Kreizler. “I’m sorry guys, I’ll make an effort to tone it down.”

“It’ll probably help with the stress too if you stop,” Margo adds.

“That and getting dicked down - how long has it been for you?”

“Yeah no,” you get off the bed and walk out of the room, “I’m not answering that.”

“Too long then!” Bitsy calls after you with a laugh.

He really thought he had been doing better with you. He couldn’t say you were his favorite person by any means, but you were proficient at your job and the tasks he gave you. A hard worker. He tried to engage in friendly conversation or to talk about the lessons he was planning with you. As little as you had actually studied psychology he found your insights to be most interesting and enlightening. He actually enjoyed it.

You, on the other hand, apparently did not.

Today was going the usual route - he attempted to engage you in discourse; you were determined to defend and fight your way out of it. Oddly enough, for as much as you loathed talking with him you were always giving him your opinion on things.

“How could you be so base to believe that? We are all individuals with our own wants, needs, and desires, sure, but to only be subject to that? To have no freedom or choice in anything we do or say? It’s ridiculous.” You sat with your arms across your chest, a sneer on your face as you argued with him.

His face remains calm through your tirade. He himself took Freud’s work with a grain of salt, but he was interested in your reaction to his questioning. So he pushed you. “And yet you sit here now with the most basic principle being exhibited - the presence of Freud’s Id hard at work - as you become frustrated and angered by my words. Is that in itself not the desire to let anger take control? Acting without fear of consequence? To be exactly what you now claim is ridiculous?”

You scoff. “No, Doctor, because I’ve chosen to not put up with the bullshit. I choose of my own free will.”

“But what is free will, if not chained to our deepest desires and fears? Us acting on the primal needs within us so out of our control? You have no choice in the matter, only impulse. Nothing you choose matters, you are inconsequential.” Laszlo found that he liked to rile you up. You were more forthcoming in your ideas and defenses; a worthy partner to discuss psychological theory with. But today he had pushed you too far.

By this point you had had enough. His constant instagation had driven you to the end of your rope. In reality it probably wasn’t that bad, and you really weren’t that confrontational of a person. But god, with him you just couldn’t seem to hold yourself back. He drove you up the wall.

“Is that what you want? To study me like your little project, seeing how you can get me to crack? Your own personal basket case to psychoanalyze? What - does that get you off at night or something?” You don’t even care that he’s your boss anymore or how inappropriate your suggestion is. If he can push and push and push without regard to what is considered socially allowed then you’d be damned if you didn’t too.

His face is merely curious, a hint of a smirk on it, as you all but yell at him from your desk. He sits back, a pen in his left hand, his right resting atop the desk. You notice his right thumb twitch.

“What’s wrong with your arm?” blurts from your scowled mouth. You don’t know why you ask. Maybe his idea about being chained to our deepest curiosities, no matter how questionable, had some weight behind it.

"I beg your pardon?" His eyes change the second the question slips from your lips. No longer is he eying you with amusement, but he looks as if he might snap at any second. His face is hard, you can see his jaw clenched under the full beard he sports.

At his reaction you know that you screwed up. You never should have said anything at all. Sure he could be as rude as the day is long, but he wasn’t necessarily a cruel man. He had little moments where he was genuinely kind to you. He even made you tea once.

“I’m sorry- I…. I don’t know where that came from. It was inappropriate of me and I apologize, Dr. Kreizler.”

The silence that overcomes the room is deafening, so unlike the boisterous discourse that was taking place a moment ago. You turn away hoping to resume your work. You even take a moment to pray to whoever is listening that you didn’t just get yourself fired.

“It was a congenital defect.” You turn back towards him, but he does not meet your eyes. He speaks low again. “My arm never developed correctly so it is weaker and has less function. That is all.” You nod at him, swallowing. The look in his eyes does not match what he tells you. He has the look of someone haunted by their past. It is a look you are all too familiar with yourself. You both finish your work in silence.

Tag list

@hardlyinteresting @lorna-d-m @livvyshmiv @somethingthatsaysbubbles @greeneyedblondie44 @unbeatablecurlgirl @apparrio @marchingicenotes7 @anteroom-of-death @bruhidaniel @lemairepstuff @thehuiabird @zemosimp05 @alindeluce @iamnotthecatladynextdoor

#the interpretation of dreams #laszlo kreizler x reader #laszlo x reader #laszlo kreizler #the alienist #the alienist angel of darkness #daniel bruhl laszlo kreizler #daniel brühl #daniel bruhl #scuttle-buttle

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fishfingersandjellybabies · 3 years

Text

You’ll Have To Come and Find Me - fic

Characters: Tim Drake, Damian Wayne Summary: Damian runs into someone on his way to the League of Lazarus’ tournament. The last person he wanted to see. The last person who should have been looking for him. A/N: Just a thought in my brain that wouldn’t quit. Dialogue heavy. Shittily written idk. ‘Polarize’ by TwentyOne Pilots is such a Damian song to me, and was in my head while writing this, so inspired the title. Might continue this idea a little bit as the Robin series continues, who knows.

He was counting the money from his fight with King Snake as he walked into the café. That’s why he didn’t notice. That’s why he didn’t see.

That’s what he told himself.

But after he walked in the door, he found himself freezing as he looked up.

No.

He’d been so careful, so deliberate. He didn’t leave any traces. He knew he didn’t. There was no way they could find him.

And of course, he couldn’t even back out now. Couldn’t sneak back out of the restaurant, back into the darkness. Because Timothy Drake was already lowering his cup of tea and raising his head to look at him.

They stared at each other for a second. Two. Three. Four. Five. Faces blank, mouths shut.

Then Tim smiled, turned towards the café’s counter and waved. The barista nodded and started on a drink.

Nope. No turning back now.

“How did you find me?” Damian demanded as he stomped forward. Tim motioned to the empty, waiting, chair across from him. A glass of water was already there, as was an empty plate.

Tim shrugged. “Wasn’t that hard.”

“Liar.” Damian spat. “I covered my tracks. I made sure-”

“You made sure Bruce couldn’t find you.” Tim countered, pulling his napkin onto his lap. “And I am not Bruce.”

“…Oracle is smarter than you.” Damian tried.

“Absolutely.” Tim took another sip of his tea. “But I know you better.”

“You don’t know me at all.” Damian crossed his arms. He nodded a thanks to the waiter as he brought Damian’s drink, and a basket of bread. It was tea, like Tim’s, and he could see two sugar cubes dissolving in the bottom.

…His preferred preparation.

He never told Tim how he liked his tea. He never told Tim he liked tea at all.

He glanced up to the elder. Tim smiled behind his own cup and raised his eyebrows. See?

Damian huffed, taking the drink. “What do you want?”

“To find you. Duh.”

“To what, mock me? Remind me of my failures? Rub it in my face that once again you prove you’re better than me?” Damian listed. But as he spoke, Tim’s amused face fell back into stoic, blank.

“No. I wouldn’t do that in the first place. Not…” He lowered his cup once more, stared into the liquid. “Not now, anyway.”

Damian narrowed his eyes, gaze bouncing around Tim’s face, trying to read it. Trying to figure his predecessor out.

“Really?” Damian drawled in disbelief. “So, you’re not here to gloat about how Father gave you Robin back?”

Damian was surprised to see Tim’s face darken, just a little. “I didn’t want it back. He forced it on me in a weird grief-fueled crusade after you disappeared.” Tim glanced up. “A lot’s happened since you left.”

“I’ve been back since I renounced Robin. All this tracking me and you didn’t know that?”

“No, I mean, even since then.” Tim sighed. “…Did you know Dick had regained his memories before you helped save him and the family?”

Damian pursed his lips, stared at the basket of bread. “…No.”

“…How are you feeling about that?” Tim asked softly.

“I don’t need your pathetic brand of therapy, Drake.” Damian snapped.

“I’m not trying to play therapist, I’m just trying to make sure my little brother is okay.” Tim shot back just as harshly. “Especially since he’s running off to some secret tournament that he could die in.”

Tim’s mouth clamped shut then, and Damian watched him. “…How did you know about that?”

“That’s not important, here, okay, I just-”

“It is to me.” Damian countered. “Tell me or I’m leaving.”

Tim glowered back at him. “I’ll follow you.”

“Not if I break your leg.”

“Why do you…!” Tim cut himself off in a sigh, slumped back in his chair. “I got word Talia was in town, followed her tracks. Saw the security footage from her apartment when you went and met her. Heard about that League of Lazarus thing and looked into it.”

“How did you look into it?” Damian asked. “Even I didn’t know about it. And if Mother wasn’t forthcoming with me, I can’t see her being a source of information for you.”

Now it was Tim’s turn to cross his arms and look away.

Damian studied him for a moment, then let his eyes go wide. “…You didn’t.”

“Look, I said it didn’t matter-”

“You did not contact Grandfather for information.” Damian practically begged. “Drake!”

“You know as well as I do he’ll give me anything I want if I’m the one to reach out to him.” Tim reassured quickly. “And sorry if my brother’s safety is a good reason for me to contact an enemy!”

Damian glared at him for a moment before looking at the clean white plate. “…Stop calling me your brother.”

“Oh, for god’s sake, Damian-”

“Because after what I’ve done, I don’t deserve the title.”

Tim paused then, stared right back. Sighed and leaned forward to grab his tea again.

“What happened wasn’t your fault.” Tim whispered. “Definitely not Dick, not Alfred…especially not Alfred…I know you think it is, and trust me, I get that. I felt the same back when my dad died. Bruce.” A moment. “…You.”

Damian glanced up at him.

“I get that you think it was. Because you were there, because you’re supposed to be a hero, that’s what the world thinks you are, but…It’s not, Damian. It never was. You’re just a kid. A kid in a shitty, traumatic situation.” Tim hesitated, and Damian watched as he swallowed a lump in his throat. “And we just want you to come home.”

“Why?” Damian asked quietly. “I’ll do nothing but hurt all of you.”

“Can I make a counterpoint to that?” Tim asked. “What do you think you’re doing to us now? Disappearing? We don’t know how you are, or if you’re even alive. Don’t you think that’s hurting us too?”

“…It shouldn’t.”

“Well. It does.” Tim sniffed. “That’s why I’m here. That’s part of why Babs became Oracle again. That’s why Dick wants to use the fortune Alfred left him to find you.”

“Forget about me.” Damian shook his head. “You’ll all be better off. Grayson especially.”

“A matter of personal opinion. An opinion I highly disagree with.” Tim shrugged. “And just because Dick, arguably, loves you the most, therefore is the most heartbroken with you not there, doesn’t mean he’ll be better off if you just…vanish from his life like you weren’t ever there in the first place.”

“He thrived without any memories of me as the cab driver, so we have proof that he would be.” Damian explained. “Besides. Time heals all wounds. Or whatever. You’ll all forget about me if you give yourself the chance to.”

“And I think you dying is proof that we won’t, and can’t.” Tim leaned forward more, reaching for Damian’s hand. Damian allowed him to take it. “Which is why I’m here.”

“I’m not going back to Gotham, Drake. I can’t.” Damian murmured, closing his eyes and shaking his head. “I’m not…I can’t be there. Right now.”

“I know. I know I said we want you home, but I never said I was taking you back. I told you I’m out here to find you.”

“Well. Congratulations.” Damian said bitterly. “You did.”

Tim smiled. “Great.” He squeezed Damian’s hand and released it. “So, where’s this island? For the tournament?”

Damian furrowed his brows. “What?”

“I’m not taking you home. I promise.” Tim let his grin widen, become just a little too shit-eating. “But that doesn’t mean I’m leaving you.”

“…You’re not serious.”

“My goal was to find you. And not lose you again. The only way to do that is to not leave you, in my deductions.” Tim winked. “Besides, you were right – this Lazarus Tournament sounds interesting. And concerning. You’re gonna need backup. More than the folks we know who are gonna be there already, anyway.”

“…How do you know who’s in the tournament?” Damian asked slowly. Tim just pursed his lips, blinked, and grinned. Damian sighed. “After this tournament, I’m making sure my grandfather never contacts you again.”

“Hey, sometimes it’s nice having a super-villain obsessed with you.” Tim shrugged. “Helped me get you back, after all.”

“All the more reason I’ll have to kill him.”

Tim laughed at that, took a piece of bread for himself. “…You okay with me tagging along?”

Damian sipped his tea. “Not in the slightest.”

“Good.” Tim glanced at his watch. “About an hour until your boat arrives. That’s enough time for you to rest a little while we figure out an outline of a plan to take out this League of Lazarus.”

At that, Tim turned, digging in the backpack he had hanging off his chair. Damian watched him as he pulled out papers and notebooks, dropping them on the table between them.

And he didn’t want it. Didn’t deserve it. His family deserved better. Drake deserved better. Drake had better things to do than chase him, a failure, across the world, and hardly for either of their own sakes. All for the sake of their family. Because Tim loved them. Because Damian loved them. Because Tim loved Damian too.

“…Drake?” Damian whispered. Tim glanced up. “…Thank you for finding me.”

Tim blinked, and let his face drop into a smile. “Any time, little brother.”

#Damian Wayne #Tim Drake

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fanimesenseiwrites · 3 years

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Heyo! :D How are you! I really love your writing!! I saw that youre taking requests, so can I ask for you to do a "MC Grooms the Boys" but with Simeon in his angel form after a bloody fight/battle 🥺 Maybe Solomon too (I guess not grooming anymore but sorcerer boy deserves some love too) Thank you so much for doing this!!💕💕

I'm good! Thank you for asking! I hope you're well too. It makes me really happy to hear that you enjoy my writing. I'm glad that you asked for this because as soon as I read it I got ideas.

So I ended up splitting them up because Simeon's got so long and angsty, it just felt like his deserved to be on its own.

MC Grooms Simeon

You're baking with Luke at Purgatory Hall when Simeon walks in. Even though you can't immediately see him, you can already tell something is off.

"Simeon? Is that you?!" Luke calls.

There's no answer besides a soft thud, so you both go to into the foyer to check.

You both stop in your tracks, shocked by the sight before you.

Simeon is sitting right in front of the door, his head in his hands and his wings and halo on full display. The splattered blood is apparent against all the white he wears.

There's a glow about Simeon but it feels dull and tarnished, and though this is the first time you've seen him with his wings out, you know he should be shining more radiantly than this.

Luke is shocked still, just holding himself and staring at Simeon.

You squeeze Luke's shoulder before slowly walking over to Simeon.

"Simeon? It's MC," you tell him gently.

Simeon gasps quietly and folds his wings around him, blocking the both of you from each other's view.

You sigh then look to Luke. "Get a bowl of warm water and a washcloth for me please."

Luke nods and runs back into the kitchen to get those things for you.

You sit in front of Simeon and inspect his wings; there doesn't appear to be any damage to them, something you're grateful for.

Luke returns with a bowl of warm water and a washcloth just as you asked.

"Thank you," you tell him as you take it from him and set it down next to you. "Will you go finish the cake we were making? I'm sure Simeon would love a piece later."

Luke nods. "Yeah, I think you're right." He goes back into the kitchen.

You start to gently clean Simeon's wings once Luke is gone.

After a few minutes of cleaning his wings, Simeon starts to shake and you can hear sobs coming from the other side of his wings.

You frown and place the washcloth in the bowl. "Simeon, love? Can I see you? ... please?"

Simeon's wings fall to rest on the floor in a show of defeat. There are tears streaming down his face as he looks at you.

You crawl closer to him and gently wipe his tears from his face.

Simeon places his hands on either side of your face as he smiles a sad smile. "You are so gentle and merciful, MC... something I was not able to be..." he suddenly breaks down and sobs into your chest.

"Shh... shh..." you try to calm him as you run your fingers through his hair. "You're alright... everything will be alright," you try to hide the uncertainty that threatens to ride out of your body on your voice.

"I... I killed a demon, MC... I didn't want to... I tried to tell them. I told them multiple times..." he desperately clings to you as he tells you his story. "This isn't what I wanted... but I just..."

"You were defending yourself," you fill in the blank.

Simeon sniffs. "Did I do the right thing?"

"Were you antagonizing the demon?" You ask only for verification, you know the answer already.

Simeon looks up at you. "Of course not."

"Then you did the right thing by defending yourself."

"What if Diavolo doesn't see it that way? What if I've accidentally started a war? MC, I can't fight my brothers again..." his eyes start to dart around the room frantically.

You suddenly feel sick, but you manage to stay calm, one of you has to.

You grab Simeon's face and make him look at you. "Hey, look at me and listen to me. This is what we're going to do. We're gonna go and get you properly cleaned up, then I'm gonna text Diavolo and ask him to come here so you can tell him what happened. I'm sure he'll believe you and everything will be okay."

Simeon nods and takes a deep breath. "Alright."

You nod and stand up before holding your hands out to Simeon.

Simeon takes your hands and uses them to pull himself up with. "Thank you."

"Of course, love. Let's get upstairs."

Simeon nods and holds his wings close to his body as you both walk upstairs.

You run a bath while Simeon undresses.

He'd normally be a little more shy, but the day's events have left him feeling more shameful than he could ever feel about his own body.

Simeon slips into the water and sits facing away from you at first.

You take your time cleaning and preening his wings, and only talk when you need him to move so that you can reach better to bathe him.

Simeon grabs your hand once he's clean. "MC, thank you... so much..."

You blush a little. "I just cleaned you up."

"You've done more than that," he assures you. It's at this point that you notice that he's glowing just a little more radiantly than before.

You smile slightly and squeeze his hand.

"I'll take your clothes down to spot and clean them, come down when you're dressed. I'll call Diavolo to come so you can speak to him, okay?"

Simeon nods. "Okay, thank you."

You head downstairs, texting Diavolo as you go. You take Simeon's clothes to the laundry room and set them in a cleaning solution to soak before going to the foyer to wait for Diavolo.

You start pacing back and forth in the foyer while you wait.

Luke looks in there at you. "MC?"

You only grunt in response.

Luke walks over to you and grabs your hand and starts pacing with you. "... I'm worried too."

"... I love both of you, but I also love all the brothers. And I know how badly Diavolo wants there to be peace between the three realms, I don't want this to cause an incident."

"Yeah..." is Luke's only response.

Just a few moments later, Diavolo walks in with Barbatos and Lucifer in tow.

You expected Barbatos to be with him but, for some reason, seeing Lucifer sets you on edge.

Instinctually, you put yourself between Luke and the demons. You squeeze Luke's hand before looking at him. "Will you go tell Simeon that Lord Diavolo is here, please?"

"Yeah," Luke tells you before heading upstairs.

You look at Diavolo and try to appear steadfast but non-aggressive. "Simeon will tell you everything, but I'd like to say beforehand that he was really tore up about it when he came in earlier. He feels really awful about..."

"It's okay, MC. I'll take it from here," Simeon speaks as he enters the foyer. His wings and halo were once again concealed.

You look at him and he walks over and squeezes your shoulder as he walks past you to face Diavolo.

He manages to tell Diavolo exactly what transpired while remaining calm and collected.

"... I hope you can believe me. I truly am sorry for what I've done." Simeon finishes.

"I do believe you, Simeon... but I also already had Barbatos look into it. And now I'd like to apologize to you that one of my subjects attacked you. You're our guest and that shouldn't have happened," Diavolo offers as an apology.

Simeon smiles slightly. "Thank you and I accept your apology. Now, would you like to stay for some tea? Luke has made a cake that I'm sure is delicious."

Diavolo smiles back. "Thank you for the offer, but I have work to do unfortunately. I do appreciate you being forthcoming with me though."

Simeon nods. "Of course. I wouldn't want to jeopardise the peace between our realms." He glances at Lucifer.

Lucifer meets his eyes briefly, before looking away.

"Take some time to relax, Simeon. Let us know if you need anything," Diavolo tells him before walking out.

Barbatos follows him immediately.

Lucifer looks at both Simeon and you before following them both out.

Once the three of them are gone, Simeon looks at you and smiles. "Thank you, MC. For being here for me."

You walk over and grasp his hand. "Of course, love."

Simeon smiles at you and strokes your cheek with his free hand.

"Do you want some cake?"

#yo this got long #please don't ask me where this came from #it was kinda just there all of a sudden #I would've answered sooner but... my adhd #obey me shall we date #obey me #obey me mc #obey me Simeon #obey me scenarios #fanimesensei answers #obey me fanfic

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dragonblobz · 3 years

Text

I'm on my bullshit again. No lemons. Just Shinigami goodness. Wrote this to In Keeping Secrets of Silent Earth 3 by Coheed and Cambria.

Ryuk has been around for such a long time. Ever since she had found that notebook sitting on that tree stump years ago. Cover soft looking and beaded with dew. It had looked as if it had been there some time. And, although the pages looked weathered and yellow, there was no mold or outward damage.

Surprising given its location in the middle of the woods. She’d only even seen it because she’d stopped and knelt to retie her shoe. Just an alien black square looking sharp and unreal sitting on that stump just off the jogging trail.

She can remember how the thing had felt when she’d picked it up. Soft in texture. Like careworn leather.

The words “Death Note" emblazoned on the cover had made her feel a little unsettled. Eerie out here in the predawn misty quiet.

A silent voice inside her mind had whispered that maybe she should put it right back down on that stump and keep running. As far and as fast as she could.

Another voice, vapid and cunning, had laughed at the absurdity of such a book, with such a title, being left out here in the middle of nowhere.

She hadn’t left it there. Without opening it, she’d tucked it under her arm and continued on her morning run.

She performed all the menial tasks of her daily life, forgetting all about that Death Note leaving dew marks on her dining room table.

Breakfast was bland. Work was tedious. No different than any other day. Even when she’d reentered her home and plopped her work bag next to the thing, her eyes really didn’t focus on it.

It was the tall bony Shinigami standing in her kitchen that finally arrested her fuzzy mind from the blandness of living.

He hadn’t even been looking at her. Instead, the spinous processes of his vertebrae pressed onto the dark material upon his long back as he leaned over her counter. Observing a bowl of fruit as if it were a still life masterpiece.

She hadn’t moved. Was utterly frozen. Just watching this creature as it looked at her food.

“What’s all this junk? Taking up room that could be used for perfectly good apples.” It’s voice, low and yet raspy, grated on her eardrums as it lifted a hand and poked a claw into the ripe flesh of an orange. The movement causing several pieces of fruit to fall out of the over filled bowl entirely.

With a deft movement, the creature caught the only apple which had exited the bowl. Rubbed it with the pad of it’s thumb as it finally lifted it’s face to look at her.

It’s face………

Cadaverous. Eyes beady and large and yellow. Nose squashed. Like a mummy who’d decided to affix it’s hair for a punk rock concert. It was even sporting a dangling silver earring on one of it’s little ears.

At her gawping expression, it had smiled. Wide thin dark mouth sporting a row of razor teeth appearing aged and yellow.

“No screaming, eh? Hiya, Y/N.”

She hadn’t bothered to question how this thing knew her name.

“Um…….. hi?” Her own voice sounded dry and distant in her ears. “And you are?”

It bit into that apple, it’s eyes closing. As if savoring the fruit. A stray drop of the juice dribbled down onto it’s chin.

It said a word. But muffled thru a mouthful of apple, it nearly sounded like a retch.

“Ex….Excuse me? I didn’t…… I didn’t quite understand that.”

“Not a good listener tho. Ah well. Nobody is perfect.” It’s long tongue snaked out to swipe at that bead of juice as the creature had studied her.

Raising it’s free hand, it extended a long bony finger. She noticed now the rings glinting on his hands.

“I. Am. Ryuk.” He said it very slowly. As if she might have been a child who might not understand. But there wasn’t a trace of sarcasm or ill temper in it’s behavior.

“So….. Ryuk…… why…… um…. What……. What do you want?”

At this, it’s smile had widened.

“I’m just here Y/N. YOU are the one that picked up the Death Note.”

Imagery of that notebook popped up in her head.

“I….. I did……”

“Yes. You did. And I’ll be with you until you die now. Or I do.” It was leering now. “Whichever comes first.”

“I see….” She didn’t really see. Turned from him and went into the dining room to pick up that notebook. Opening it. Reading the first thing written on the inside of the cover out loud.

“The human whose name is written in this note shall die.”

It had been frightening in retrospect. Not those words. Not that Death Note. Not even the monster standing in the doorway happily crunching it’s way thru a second apple and watching her.

What had been utterly terrifying was that she had not blanched. Had not set this note down and backed away. Had not told that creature to take it and go.

Instead, she’d stood there. Continuing to read. A name and face already coming to mind.

A face belonging to a monster who’d put that apple eating shark mouthed monster to utter shame. The man who’d killed someone she had loved.

Without looking away from the Death Note, she’d reached over and started rummaging thru her work bag. Fingers shaking and fumbling at keys and change.

“Never can find what you’re looking for if your bag is too full, Y/N.” Ryuk looked vastly amused. “You’re not even going to question the validity of the Note? That’s what you humans usually do.”

She hadn’t answered. Simply gasped as her fingers had clutched onto a great fistful of bullshit in her bag. Lifting the whole mess out to drop carelessly on the table. Chapstick and a tampon scattering across the surface.

And there, rolling and coming to rest against an old broken key chain, had been a blue ink pen.

She’d looked up at Ryuk. Eyes wide, almost manic.

“Any person?”

He smiled again. Repeated her words.

“Any living person.”

There had been no eloquence. No artfulness nor ritualistic care taken in that first death. She had scratched the name onto the paper. And a way to die. Almost stabbing it in. Breathing coming out in ragged desperate gasping.

After the deed had been done, the pen clattered to the floor as she’d wept. Fingers numb.

It hadn’t occurred to her that there would be no way to instantly verify this death. Not until that moment. And so, with a frustrated cry, she’d slapped the Death Note onto the table and fled into her bedroom. Right over to the dark corner to collapse, wrap her arms around her knees, stuff her face into her knees, and cry as a child. Ryuk following her, tilting his head quizzically at this suffering.

“Why are you crying? You couldn’t have liked that human if you wanted them to die.”

“Please…… please go.”

But he didn’t. Simply had sank down. Knobby knees on either side of his ghastly face as he sat across from her.

“I told you. I’m here till you die, Y/N.” There was no camaraderie or sympathy in his voice. It had been matter of fact. “But this surely will get boring very soon, won’t it?”

“When will I know if he died?”

Ryuk smiled again. Leering.

“My my. Impatient aren’t you. Actually that’s a quality I like about you humans. As for your question, I guess you’ll just have to find out for yourself.” His eyes glint as his smile turns wicked. “You could always write a name belonging to someone closer. If you’re seeking validation, of course.”

“There isn’t anyone else I wanna kill.”

“Then this is going to get very boring very quickly, Y/N.”

She hadn’t had to wait long. Two days later, she’d received correspondence that her presence would no longer be required at a hearing. The defendant was dead.

A quick Google search verified that the person had died just as she’d written.

Setting the phone down, fingers numb, she'd simply looked up at her Shinigami.

She knew that’s what he was now. She’d been peppering him with questions about himself and his kind. And about the Death Note. He hadn’t answered many of them. At least, not until she’d given him an angelic grin and revealed a bag of bright green apples.

“Your apples can be green???” He'd looked absolutely delighted. And had been far more forthcoming.

“He’s dead. He’s really……. Gone…….”

Ryuk merely grunted in visceral enjoyment as he popped the core of that Granny Smith into his maw.

Without warning, she’d reached forward, patting at another errant drop of juice on his chin with a Kleenex she’d just snatched from the box. The action was mainly impulsive. And she’d laughed.

“You’re so messy.”

The Shinigami had frozen. Utterly motionless. He didn’t breathe himself. Statue still. Simply looking at her.

The years passed by like this. The shock and relief provided by this first killing soon giving way to an almost comfortable routine. She didn’t go on a wholesale slaughter. And often targeted those who hurt children. The pain of such cases resonating with the events of her own life.

And there were so. Many. Apples. Loads of them. Ryuk loved all kinds. Although he did seem preferential to Honey Crisp. She never once could get him to try another fruit. And she DID try. Not even a damn orange.

“It’s yummy. Ya know, for somebody that says he gets bored easily, you sure are picky.” She waggled the bright fruit.

“I’ve watched you peel one of those things. What sort of food makes you work so hard? Now THIS……” He'd held up his half eaten apple. “THIS is the pinnacle of crisp and juicy. Now leave that orange wherever you found it, if you please.”

Time was littered with conversations as simple as these, intermingled with serious discussions in which he was as non informative as ever.

It was one of these more serious conversations which followed an observation on her part.

She’d noticed changes in him. Very slight. But she was simply around him so much that she could see them. His movements had become slower. More careful. His speech slowed as well. As if he might be thinking more carefully. Or even forgetting things. She never once pointed this out.

Not until, one day, after clearing 6 entire apples, he’d actually groaned as he’d flopped upon her couch. Long booted feet hanging over one of the arms.

She plops next to him. Poking at one of the skulls on his belt. He’d long since stopped being surprised by her impulsive touches and nearness. Her humanness. Simply tolerating it.

“Are you hurting, Ryuk?”

“Why are you asking?”

“Oh. No reason.”

“I’m dying, Y/N.”

For once, it is she who freezes.

“I thought Shinigami lived a long time.”

“We do. My time is simply running out.” He’s just watching her.

“You’d said….. you’d said that you guys get more years by taking ours.”

“We do.”

She stops toying with that skull entirely. Turns her body so that she’s facing him directly.

“Is it time, then?” She’s oddly unafraid.

“Time for what?”

“For you to….. ya know…… write my name in YOUR Death Note?”

At this, he chuckles.

“I’m not going to write your name.”

She looks confused.

“But….. why not?”

Now he’s actually laughing.

“Do you WANT me to write your name in my Death Note?”

She chews on her bottom lip. Reaching out to pat his chest. Once again, he doesn’t react.

“I don’t want you to die.”

He laughs again. But there is no more true mirth in the sound.

“Why?”

She counters.

“Why won’t you write my name?”

“I am not entirely sure, Y/N.” The slight confusion in his voice gives credence to this answer.

“Well. I am sure.” She’s staring intently at him. “Everything ends, Ryuk. Nobody ever stays. Nothing is constant. I’ve never had a single person ever remain in my life. Except….. except you.”

He sighs. Patiently repeating himself.

“I will be with you until you die.”

“I don’t care if it’s because you have to be here. You’re still HERE……. Will it be soon?”

That same, toothy leer.

“You know I won’t tell you your lifespan, Y/N.”

“I don’t mean me.”

He just looks at her. She’s never seen his face so expressionless. Then repeats yet again.

“I will be with you until you die. Or until I do.”

“I will write my own name then. Will that do it?”

“Stop being foolish. Be a dear and get me another apple won’t you?”

“Yeah….. I will. But I’m not done.”

“I’m sure you’re not.” He chuckles.

It is as if this conversation opens a chasm in this inevitable process. Everything about Ryuk is changing. And so quickly.

Already emaciated and pale, even his dark lips turn papery and light grey. His hair grays too. Yellow eyes growing filmy where they had been so keen before. As if, when the aging process actually begins in a Shinigami, it is accelerated.

It is barely 2 weeks after this conversation that he gives a defeated grunt, sprawled on her bed as she’s on her laptop.

“I can’t get up.” He barks out a laugh. As if this is genuinely funny to him.

She closes her laptop and rises from her chair. Turning and walking over to the bed to flop next to him. Staring at the ceiling just as he is.

“You want another apple?”

“Thank you, Y/N. But I do not.”

“That close, huh.”

“I believe so, yes.”

“Will the Death Note still work? When you’re gone I mean.”

“Yes.”

Her voice is oddly cold.

“Do death gods go to hell? I cant go to heaven or hell. What about you?”

He doesn’t answer for several minutes. She doesn’t speak either. Finally…

“I suppose we will end up in the same place, Y/N.”

“I'm glad.” She turns her face to look at him. “I’ll need something before you go.”

“Oh? And what is that?”

“The Shinigami eyes.”

At this, Ryuk turns his face as well. And they just stare at each other.

“Clever greedy impatient girl.” The insult is almost affectionate. “Are you truly that afraid to die alone?”

“Nobody should die alone. And this way, neither of us will half to. Half my lifespan for the Shinigami eyes. We’ll die at the same time.” She looks back up at the ceiling. He does too.

When he feels her fingers intertwining with his, as always, he doesn’t react.

“I never actually made that offer to you. Merely spoke of it.”

“I don’t care. I want the Shinigami eyes.”

He turns his face to her.

“Who am I to turn down such a lucrative deal?”

She sees his hand coming towards her face. Closes her eyes.

When she opens them again, the picture of her and some old friends on the wall is noticeably different. One face, the face of the friend who’d committed suicide years before, is clear and unblemished. The other faces each have a name and numbers above them.

And when she looks back at Ryuk, she sees that his hair is once again jet black. Eyes just as clear and sharp as she remembers. He leers at her. Squeezes her hand as she’s squeezing his.

“I’ll take that apple as well. If the offer is still there.”

She grins.

“You got a new lease on life and you STILL won’t try an orange?”

He scoffs.

#death note #ryuk #fem reader #ryuk x reader #tw suicide reference #my writing

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marshmallowprotection · 3 years

Text

Birthday Title Screen

Saeran’s title screen underneath the cut alongside my thoughts and feelings on the matter. Under the cut simply because if you don’t want to see it, you can go and wait until it’s officially released by Cheritz in your time zone. Anyways, we know why we’re here.

It’s that time again and boy, aren’t we happy to be able to talk about it? Now, this title was advertised as Unknown so I expected Unknown. I didn’t expect my boy Suit Saeran to be on the title. The game tends to imply that Unknown is the just Suit Saeran, and vice versa, but I don’t agree with that notion but I’ve explained that one many times before but the game never confirms outright one way or the other so, you know how that goes.

I’ll spare you that, I’ve got plenty of posts talking about that opinion for you to find if you want, lol.

Either way, this is the first time that Suit Saeran’s gotten the pointed limelight like this. He’s usually meant to surprise the player because they may not see him in their minds as their trying to uncover the mystery and everything. But, we’ve got to say, Cheritz has thrown all spoiler fears out of the window. I mean, they just plastered Seven’s true name on a boat.

I laughed about that but I digress, you’re here for the photo and you want to see me shriek like a banshee.

So, yeah, let’s just our obligatory scream out of the way presently. When I saw this one, I could think was: Oh my God, it’s BE2. The only reason my brain just decided BE2 was because of the framing of all the presents. In that ending, he gives you gifts, he gives you food, but “you’re not good enough to open them or touch them, toy.” He’ll give you all kinds of things but you know, you get what he wants when he decides.

And crumbs, if you’re lucky on a good day, you know?

That being said, it doesn’t have to be framed as BE2, but the presents and gifts just lead me to believe that this is the theme or the idea that it’s taking from to show the audience because what else am I going to be thinking when you’ve gone and thrust that idea into my face like that? Mmm, and I’ve been talking about that ending a lot lately.

Here’s that post if you want to read more about BE2. It’s a tragic ending that is bad for both Saeran and MC. He’s trying to get you back like Humpty Dumpty but he can’t put you back together again. He realized too little, too late, that he liked you the way that Ray did, that he genuinely liked you for you. He can’t say that aloud, so he... tries cruel ways to bring you back, but it will never work and he’s doomed to despair.

No hope for Suit Saeran if the kindness heart can be destroyed in hell. It means it’s only natural that he lose everything.

I appreciate that he’s sticking to his goth theme, though, that party hat is just red and black.

Suit Saeran’s very... minimalist in the sense that he just picks things that are truly intense and sharp. That’s why he wears a suit. That’s because it’s the thing that he knows that can radiate power. Business men are supposed to be strong and forthcoming with their ability, that’s why he leans that way.

His father is like that, the idea of what power and monster is feeds into how he chooses to dress himself.

That’s why he just says, “Suit time.” If anyone was curious about that, anyway, I never seen people talk about that. Ray was given his clothes by Rika, he never got a say in how he dressed. The boys always pick something dark because it’s going to match their mood... their mood is how they pick colors and clothes if given the ability.

That’s why GE Saeran is bright and cottagecore. It reflects the positive shift in his thoughts and perspective on the world. But, with Suit Saeran, he’s trying to emulate what he’s scared of and what he thinks that power is and this is the only way he knows how and it hurts to think about when you frame it that way, I do know that.

Is that meant to be a stamp and playbook? Did Suit Saeran really make a whole illustrated guide for his puppet show? Is he really making acts and stories for all of this? He had to make those puppets himself. We know that Saeran is creative and can make anything, but those things are clearly handmade, hand-painted, I have a strong feeling that he made those clothes himself, too...

You know, I like to imagine him drawing his emojis before he comes to you because he wants to make a good impression, but he’s a very specific artist and he gets angry when he can’t get things right, so I’m really thinking about him being out here in his workroom, painting fine details with a determined look in his eyes like—

“This’ll show that toy. This’ll show them how powerful I am.”

Suit Saeran, honey, this is a gift within itself, you are a dork and I love you so much, oh my God.

TLDR; Suit Saeran makes puppets and makes their own playbook like this is going to a musical or the opera.

He actually brought you the exact outfit. This means that he either made you that outfit, or he got himself, and then he made a smaller version.

I like to think he’s crafty with sewing so I pretend he does things like this, but honestly, if you’ve made it this far, are you also thinking about the fact that he made a doll versions of the both of you to show you something?

Because I can’t stop thinking about that. He really said, “Look at this, I made us, toy!” Like, I wrote a whole imagine once where MC and GE Saeran made each other plush dolls of the other person to sleep with. He just went out here and made puppets simply because he wanted to put on a show. He made y’all and I’m gonna cry what a fucking dork.

This is canon.

My God, I’m canon.

Once again, I’m out here living my best life and nobody’s going to stop me on that front. Saeran wants to impress you and astound you so badly that he does not even realize that the handmade things that he’s making actually would be something that flatter someone.

Like, he could use those to patronize me and berate me for control, but—

I’d really be sitting there compliment his fine eye and craftsmanship. It’s just that great.

“Wow, Saeran. You did this all by yourself? These details are so realistic and finely tuned. This must have taken you hours... no, days, it must have taken you days to paint everything and stitch all of this together, even the little fine details are perfect. You’re amazing! When did you have the time to learn all of this?”

He would scoff, “Of course, I am, you blubbering toy! Don’t suck up to me and think that you’re going to be treated nicely. I won’t tell you anything about me. You don’t deserve that. I didn’t do this to impress you, I did this to show you what I want from you. Now, be a good little toy, sit there, and do as I ask. I won’t repeat myself.”

I find it interesting that he framed himself in the Savior’s seat here. Is that just a tie back to BE3, or is it simply his power play? I think it’s a comment on the fact that he struggles to know how much power that he truly has in his hands. That is to say, he says he’s the strongest, but the reality is, Rika is stronger then him and he bows his head to her.

Even in his fantasy, she holds all of the cards and he has no choice but to bend.

But, with MC, he is trying to use them to control his idea of power... because it’s a fragile thing. It could break at any second. He screams and shouts all that he wants but he knows, deep down, he may be strong, but he’s not the strongest in this place. How could he be? That’s why Rika even says to you during those late hours—

“Mmm, you noticed? He’s using you to stabilize himself because otherwise, he would crumble. Thanks for your sacrifice to helping me win my goals. It wasn’t a pleasure knowing someone as bright as you, getting in my way and trying to turn them against me.”

He only feels strong when something placates the idea in his chest. It hurts, even in his numb and confused heart, he’s hurting and he can’t figure out a way to get out of the dark labyrinth. Did he make the Mint Eye playhouse? Did he? I am saying he did. None of you are going to stop me. Saeran is a creative artist and I will not be contained any longer.

Cheritz confirmed.

You’re a doll on a string in this for him. He wants to say that he bends and controls you to his whims, but... he’s also there. This isn’t just you being a toy, it’s Saeran realizing that he’s a toy, too. Why else would he make a doll of his person, then? This is about him not entirely getting it, though. He would make himself but not realize what he’s implying to know deep down, underneath all of his yelling.

When I saw him in the chair, I thought... this is him in relation to being the marionette king. That’s why they’re doing this, oh my God. It makes sense to frame the MC as a puppet or toy, they’re always “his eyes” and “his toy” and more and more and more. But, he’s also being played for a toy by Rika to get what she wants.

Who is really the puppet here?

Who is really on the strings?

Look at that cocky bastard. Look at him. Look at him forever and deal with me screaming about him, oh my God. In conclusion, I’m having a lot of feelings at the moment presently and I think I’m going to go and lay back down because I am going to need a minute to unpack everything that I’m feeling and dealing with because Suit Saeran.

SUIT SAERAN!

#mod kait #character analysis #mm #mysme #mystic messenger #mysticmessenger #suit saeran #saeran #saeran choi #choi saeran #mm saeran #mysme saeran #mystic messenger saeran #saeran mysme #saeran mm #saeran mystic messenger #long post #spoiler

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thran-duils · 3 years

Text

Lost In Zero Gravity (P.8)

Title: Lost In Zero Gravity (Part Eight) Summary: Fem!Reader x Mob Boss!Tony Stark x Mob Boss!Steve Rogers. Reader is a call girl who runs high end parties. She catches the attention of Tony Stark who invites her back to his room with his friend. She might have performed too well because she becomes their new favorite play toy and they don’t like to share. Words: 2,685 Warnings (for the fic in entirety): Smut, prostitution, infidelity, angst, domestic violence, stalking, possessive behavior

Author’s Note: **MUCH ANGST**

Part Seven || Part Nine || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

Instead of going to his office, Tony marched straight to Steve’s without so much as a fleeting greeting for anyone who he passed on the way. He barged in and closed the door loudly behind him.

Steve looked up from his laptop, pausing for a moment. He saw the look on Tony’s face, “Something wrong?”

Stopping in front of his desk, Tony glowered down at him. “I don’t know. You tell me after I tell you about the interesting question Y/N had for me today.”

“What was that?” Steve asked, looking back at his laptop, clicking away on the keyboard. He seemed to relax when he heard it was about Y/N.

“She asked who Cecile was,” Tony stated. Steve stopped then, his fingers hovering over the keys, suddenly interested again. Tony gave a wry chuckle. “Oh, that got your attention, did it? You suddenly give a shit now, don’t you?”

Steve’s hands left his keyboard, his face screwed up in confusion. “How did she—”

“You slipped up,” Tony pointed at him accusingly, running his tongue over his bottom lip. He came to sit in the chair across from Steve’s desk, sitting back, staring at him. “You called her Cecile in bed.” Steve looked like he had been slapped. “Do you have no recollection of this?”

“No,” Steve admitted reluctantly.

“Hmm… well, it apparently happened.”

“Did you—”

“No. No, I didn’t tell her,” Tony interrupted forcibly. “I left her at the apartment. She’s busy with the cat.” Tony exhaled sharply, running his hand over his face, distressed. “Did… did I not tell you to keep your marriage shit out of it? Didn’t I?” Steve threw his hands out and started to defend himself and Tony pressed on, “I did! I distinctly remember it! I know things are not great right now with her but if you can’t keep a lid on it, what are we even doing messing around? And yeah, I say we because I’m tied in with this if you haven’t noticed!”

Steve clicked his jaw, pushing back from his desk, hands planted on the arms of his chair, silent.

As the silence stretched on, Tony relented in his anger slightly. His voice was less harsh, “I mean, come on, man. That’s a rookie mistake.”

“We’re trying to work on it,” Steve finally said. His voice was sad when he said, “I haven’t told you she’s pregnant.” That piqued Tony’s interest. “Yeah. A couple months along.” He gave a humorless laugh and said, “But you know the bitch of it is I don’t know if it’s mine. Or… if it’s that… little fuck.”

“I’m not sure what she sees in him,” Tony offered up, trying to be comforting.

“She’s always had a thing for younger guys. Plus, he doesn’t come with all the strings of marriage,” Steve said sourly.

“What are you going to do?”

“What can I do other than let it play out and then get a DNA test?”

“And… if it’s not yours?”

Steve sighed loudly, throwing his hands out again. He looked defeated. “I don’t know, Tony. I… I don’t want to divorce her. There’s still something to salvage, I know it. And I’m not gonna kick her ass to the curb.”

“I didn’t expect you to.”

“I just… I’m trying to take it day by day. I’m sorry I fucked up with Y/N. I really don’t even remember it. I was high as hell the last time we had sex. It must have just… slipped out,” Steve said. He chewed on his bottom lip, staring off into nothing, Tony silent as well. When Steve looked back at him he said, “I’ll do better.”

Tony apologized immediately, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to just come in here and ream you. I mean, I did. But I should have asked first.”

“I haven’t been exactly forthcoming about it.”

“No, no you haven’t. You could do better at that too.”

Steve nodded in agreement and asked seriously, his hand running over his beard, “Y/N was really bothered by it?”

“I don’t think so. She brushed it off when she saw my reaction to the question. I think she was just curious more than anything. It was an innocent question I think.”

“Well, it won’t happen again,” Steve said firmly. “I’ll make sure of it.”

<><><>

Something was tugging on the other end of the lights that you were trying to hang up. You already knew who it was, and you turned, scolding immediately, “Luna!”

Luna was batting at the end of the orange Halloween lights and when you said her name, she immediately stopped, booking it away towards the couch. She got up on it and sat down, her tail swishing.

“Don’t glare at me! You’re the one being naughty! You have so many damn toys and you are trying to sabotage me!”

She laid down then, turning away from you. Rolling your eyes, you resumed decorating. You loved that cat but you also wanted to strangle her sometimes.

In the middle of hanging up little bats, you heard the key in the lock. You stilled, seeing Steve walk into the apartment. He was carrying a small bag and his eyes ran over the living room seeing all the decorations you had hung up. A small smirk appeared on his face as he closed the door behind him, locking it.

“What?” you asked.

“Looks like you’re going all out. Halloween isn’t until next month.”

“It’s September 30th,” you pointed out. “Who decorates for a holiday days beforehand?”

“Touche, ma’am,” Steve joked coming over towards you. He stopped to reach out and scratch Luna behind the ears.

“Can you put some up higher?” you asked him, gesturing to continue the swarm of bats you had put on the wall.

Steve placed the bag down and came over to you, taking the rest of the small stack of them. You rolled the tape handing each piece to him and he worked in tandem to place them on the wall, continuing your pattern.

“I’ve almost finished my 31 days of Halloween list too,” you told him.

He cocked an eyebrow and asked, “And what exactly is that?”

“You must never have fun,” you jested, handing him another piece of rolled tape. “It’s a list of horror or Halloween related movies for every day in October. I’ll send you guys the list so you can plan visits around it because I will not be missing a day. And if you don’t like a movie, well, then just don’t come on that day.”

“Wowww,” Steve drew out, chuckling.

Shrugging, you told him, “I’m serious. One hundred percent.”

He still laughed as he finished putting up the last couple bats. “Noted, dear.”

Stepping back, you nodded in approval at the wall. “It looks good. That was the last part! I can’t wait to see all the lights I hung up at nighttime! It’ll set a really nice ambience.”

“I can see that,” Steve responded, looking around at all the strings of lights. He looked amused by the sight of it. His eyes met yours again and he said, “Way to be festive.”

“Always. Just wait until Christmas.”

That drew a laugh out of him and then he said, “I did come here for a reason though.”

Moving past you, Steve went for the bag and picked it up, holding it out to you.

“What’s this?” you asked him, taking it from him cautiously.

“A gift,” Steve told you.

“Christmas isn’t for months.”

Steve chuckled, “Consider it an early one.”

You opened it, taking out a small box. Upon opening the box, you found a key and realized immediately what it was. It was the key to the apartment. Only took them a month and a half.

“Trust me enough now, I suspect,” you commented, looking up at him.

Steve nodded, “That was the stipulation wasn’t it?”

“Sure was…” you said, trailing off. You walked past him with the box and went to the door to grab your keyring that was hanging there. You slipped the key onto it and replaced it. Turning back, you said, “Glad I was impressive enough to earn it.”

Steve came up to you, a tickled look on his face at your wisecrack. He leaned down, kissing you on the forehead.

“Good job.”

“Thanks,” you returned. “Tony too busy to be here for the ceremony?”

“Unfortunately.”

“Well, you get some brownie points. Speaking of brownies, I did make some. Want one?”

You moved out from around Steve, not waiting for him to answer. You smiled to yourself, your back to him feeling the weight of being locked in one place taken from you now that you had a key. You could not wait to be able to go out without an escort. Freedom was at your fingertips.

<><><>

Tony was gripping your waist and hip tightly as you rode him on your bed. They had come over late in the night and it was early, 4:30am. Steve had gotten out of bed to get showered and clean himself up. Tony had elected to stay in bed and have another go at it, which you were not complaining about. They had not come over for a week having been away on a trip and you had missed them.

You barely heard the door open, thinking it was Steve coming back from the shower. But, you noticed Tony freeze, his eyes drawn to the door, widening alarmingly. His hands tightened dangerously, and you stared down at him confused, stalling.

“No, do—” Tony started to say loudly.

You barely turned your head before someone grabbed your hair, dragging you off of him across the bed. You tumbled to the ground, looking up terrified seeing a dark-haired woman looking wild, her eyes filled with hatred.

“Alessia!” you heard Tony shout from near the bed as the woman dove at you.

Your vision was obstructed by a fist hitting your face. You cried out in pain, trying to curl up into yourself.

“Bitch!” you heard her yell.

Another hit landed but with less force, and you heard her being drug away, her shouting incomprehensively. Nervously, you uncovered your face, shaking like a leaf.

Eyesight clearing, you saw Tony dragging her away.

“Alessia!” He shouted again as she fought ferociously against his iron grip around her arms, his hands locked together against her chest.

“You fucking absolute bastard!” she shrieked, trying to get away from his grasp. “Is this where you were last Monday night? You missed your daughter’s preschool Thanksgiving play to fuck a whore? And one of the first things you do when you get back from a week long trip is come here? Let me go! Let me GO, Tony! Get your fucking hands off of me!”

She tore away from his grip when he loosened up and shoved him into the doorway, before slapping him with all the force she could muster across the face. Tony ate the hit, turning back with his jaw clenched but he did little to respond beyond glaring daggers at her.

Steve was there outside in the hall looking stricken, his hair wet from his shower but dressed. Aleissa let out a disgusted laugh seeing him.

“You too?” she spat at him. She pointed dangerously at him and said, “You both can fucking rot for all I care! Cecelia will fucking know about this, you piece of shit!”

Alessia’s rage was directed towards Tony again as she spat, “I can put up with the running around on me because god knows I’m not a saint. But you cannot start neglecting your family! I won’t fucking put up with it!”

She took off down the hall and Tony swore loudly, turning back to the room going towards the ground for his pants. His eyes ran around the room, discombobulated. His eyes landed on you and his mouth fell open, like he wanted to say something, but he could not form the words.

“Go! I got it!” Steve exclaimed at Tony quickly, gesturing him out the door.

Tony only hesitated for a moment before throwing his pants on and taking off out of the room after her.

Steve came to you quickly, his fingers brushing your cheek. You winced and he retracted his hand. “Fuck,” he hissed.

“What the hell?” you demanded, tears spilling over. The shock was wearing off, you feeling the pain in your jaw and cheek now.

Steve sighed heavily, telling you in explanation, “The wife.”

Terrence was in the doorway then and Steve grabbed the throw blanket from the end of the bed, tossing it around you to cover you.

“What the fuck?” Steve shouted at Terrence, over his shoulder as he tucked the blanket around you. “Why did you let her in here?”

“She had a goddamn gun pointed at me, boss! I didn’t want to cause a scene!”

“You don’t think this a scene?” Steve exclaimed, gesturing wildly at you.

“I meant in the hall. And I also didn’t wanna get shot! She’s psychotic!”

“Get the fuck out,” Steve snapped at him. “Go get Tony. Alessia is probably causing another scene down in the lobby and I don’t trust Tony and Daryl to be able to handle it by themselves! Especially with Tony half fucking dressed.”

Terrence did as he was ordered.

“Come on. Come up here,” Steve encouraged you, helping you stand and sitting you on the edge of the bed. He was trying to be calm, but you could pick up on the edge in his voice. “Sit tight.”

He left the room too. You sat on the bed, grasping the blanket tightly around you. Your breath was shuddering, trying to process what had just happened. Steve came back with a towel. Sitting on the bed next to you, he raised it and pressed it to your jaw softly. You realized he had put some ice cubes in the towel tied off with a rubber band to make a makeshift ice pack.

You should not need an ice pack because you got punched in the face, you thought, your shock of the situation melting away to anger.

You jerked away from him and he gave you a confused look. Tears came again then and you took the ice pack from him.

“Y/N, I’m sorry,” Steve said sincerely. “That wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“You know where this wouldn’t have happened? Back home!” you spat at him, meeting his eyes. His expression hardened and you frankly did not care. “But no, you two forced me to come to this stupid apartment! I would’ve been safe back at the brothel!”

“Now, Y/N—” Steve started to say, sounding very much like he was going to try to talk you down, but you cut him off.

“No! You know I’m right!”

“Y/N—”

“Just get out!” you shouted at him, losing your temper. Steve was staring at you in disbelief, and he was not moving. You repeated with more force, standing up in a fury, holding the blanket tightly around you. “Leave me be! Get out!” You tossed the icepack onto your bedside table. You dove for Tony’s clothes, wallet, and his cell phone, storming towards the door and tossing them out into the hallway. You could not lock them completely out of the apartment since they had keys but goddamnit you were going to have your space in your bedroom.

You whipped back around to find Steve still sitting on the bed, stunned. You were openly crying now, and you hysterically told him, pointing out the door, “Are you fucking deaf, Steve? Get the hell out! I don’t want to fucking see either of you!”

He stood then finally, controlled, masking the shock he had displayed moments before. He walked towards you and the door, his eyes boring into you. You met him with the same ferocious gaze he was giving you as he passed, his eye contact not breaking with yours. As soon as he was clear of the door, you moved, and slammed it close behind him.

The lock fell into place.

~~~

Forever tags: @coconutqueen21 @undecidedsworld

Fic tags: @icant-hangout-imdrumming @oceaniamaddness @multifandom-superlover @imsonick @holl2712 @here4thefanfics

#tony stark x reader #steve rogers x reader #dark tony stark #dark steve rogers #dark marvel #mob tony stark #mob steve rogers #dark marvel fic #my shit

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joonie-beanie · 4 years

Text

Helping Hands

Pairing: Barbatos x Reader

Word Count: 5,526

Preview: The royal butler decides to pay you a visit when he hears that your back is acting up.

However, when he offers to give you a massage, things get a little out of hand.

** Please note that this is a cross-posting **

This chapter is also being posted on 7/10/2020 as a part of my “Devil Doms” series on AO3.

Obviously, you’re not as close to the residents of the Demon King’s Palace, or the other exchange students, as you are with the demon brothers. That’s to be expected, considering you literally live with the seven demons, and are pretty much around them at all times.

However, your relationships with the others are far from distant.

In fact, for the last two months, Diavolo and Barbatos have been inviting you over for tea every Sunday evening.

At first, you’d found it a bit strange to partake in a tea party so late in the day, and on a Sunday no less, but you’ve grown quite fond of your quiet evenings with the Devildom Prince and his faithful butler. Usually conversation is pleasant. Diavolo loves to ask you about your experiences in the human world, and never gets enough of your stories—even if it’s just you retelling simple parts of your day.

It has also been a good opportunity to get to know Diavolo and Barbatos more. Diavolo is very forthcoming with any information you’d like to know, but still tends to have this…front about him. Like he’s willing to let you in, but just not too deep. After all, he is the ruler of the Devildom, so you don’t blame him for keeping certain things to himself.

Barbatos…also feels like a puzzle, but a puzzle that with time, he will gladly let you put together. In the past month, you’ve managed to learn an array of information about him—his favorite foods, what he likes to drink, what he does when he’s not tending to Diavolo, etc.

Apparently, he enjoys baking, reading, and taking long, hot baths. He’s always formal out of habit, but ever so slowly has begun to shed such formality with you—making little remarks that would have seemed out of character in the past, but are becoming much more frequent nowadays.

In fact, last week when you’d showed up exhausted, he’d quipped about whether you were having any “late nights” with the brothers. The twinkle in his eye had confirmed that yes, he was implying it in a sexual manner, and Diavolo’s full belly laugh when he’d seen the shock and embarrassment on your face had echoed throughout the entire castle.

So, least to say, you and Barbatos are starting to get along quite well.

Unfortunately…you’re not sure that you’ll be able to make your weekly tea tonight—on account of the fact that you can barely walk.

Hand pressed against your lower back, you openly groan in pain as you press to your feet. You need to get to your DDD to let the two know of your predicament, but of course you’d managed to leave your phone on the other side of the room.

With your body curved at a horribly awkward angle, you stagger your way across the wooden floor. You think the source of your problem is a kink in your neck, that is throwing your entire body out of alignment, but you can’t say for sure considering everything hurts.

Sighing, you unlock your DDD and open up the messaging app. You click into your chat with the royals.

You: Hi there. I’m not sure I’ll be able to make it tonight. I’m not feeling too well…

It only takes a few seconds before Diavolo responds.

Diavolo: I was actually just about to text you. Something quite urgent came up, so I’m unavailable this evening.

Diavolo: Also, I’m so sorry to hear you’re not feeling well! Please, be sure to get rest and take care of yourself!

Smiling at his kind words, you respond with your gratitude. A moment later, you see ellipses pop up at the bottom of the chat, but they soon disappear. No message comes through, and you frown a little. However, after another few seconds, you receive a new notification.

A text from Barbatos, but outside of the group chat the two of you share with Diavolo.

Barbatos: May I ask what’s the matter? I was intending to still invite you over for tea since I enjoy your company regardless.

Barbatos: If you’re ill, however, I’d like to know if there’s anything I can do to help.

You’d be lying if you said a small part of you didn’t swoon at his concern, and the declaration of the fact that he enjoys having you around.

You: I have a kink in my back, and it’s honestly affecting my ability to do…anything, at the moment. I would have loved to have tea with you, though.

Barbatos responds right away.

Barbatos: If it’s alright with you, I’d be more than happy to bring the tea to you instead. Lord Diavolo has already departed for the evening, and I have nothing else to do.

Barbatos: Plus, I’ve heard that I’m a pretty skilled masseuse, as well. I may be able to assist with your current ailment.

Your heart flutters a bit at the idea of letting Barbatos massage you, since you’ve yet to be physical with the butler beyond hugs, but you can’t deny how appealing a massage sounds right about now. Your muscles are oh so sore, and at this point, you should be accepting any type of help you can get.

You: I don’t want to impose, but that sounds wonderful…

Barbatos: Think nothing of it. I will be over shortly. Do not feel the need to come and greet me, I shall ask Lucifer to guide me to your room.

You text back your confirmation before stumbling back to your bed—rolling onto the messy sheets with a pained hiss as you wait for Barbatos to arrive.

Only 20 or so minutes later, you hear the sound of knuckles wrapping against your bedroom door.

“Y/N?” It’s Lucifer’s voice. “Barbatos is here to see you.”

“Come in,” you call, knowing full well that you probably look a mess—laying belly down on your mattress with one leg hiked high, and one arm hanging low. It’s the comfiest position you could find, though.

Lucifer turns the knob and steps into the room first, a frown tugging at his lips when he notes how you’re positioned on your bed. Barbatos follows him in, worry in his eyes as well, but he still manages to smile.

“My, you weren’t kidding when you mentioned having a kink in your back.”

“I think death is approaching,” you respond, overly dramatic, and your words have both Barbatos and Lucifer chuckling.

“I shall leave you two to enjoy your tea. Please contact me if you need anything.”

“Thank you, Lucifer.”

With that, the Avatar of Pride makes his way from your room—closing the door behind him. Now, it’s just you and Barbatos.

“I think the tea may have to wait,” he comments, moving to set the basket he’d brought with him on the table at the far side of your room. You note that it’s woven wood—practically a picnic basket, and smile a little. How cute.

Forgetting about your pain for a moment, you watch as the butler opens the basket up and reaches inside. You expect him to produce some tea cups, or saucers, but instead he pulls out what looks to be a bottle of oil.

Realization strikes you, and your cheeks begin to heat up.

“You know, Barbatos, you really don’t need to give me a massage…,” you tell him quietly, mumbling the words as you watch him begin to roll up his sleeves. He’s dressed more casually than usual—his overcoat and tie nowhere to be found. Instead, he’s simply donning his green button up shirt, and a pair of black slacks.

It’s…a good look on him. Especially with the sleeves folded neatly up to his elbows. And when he slowly plucks off his white gloves, revealing fingernails painted the same color as the highlights in his hair, you feel your heart skip a beat.

“It’s clear that you’re in desperate need of one, and I already reassured you that you’re not imposing,” he tells you, making his way to your side with the bottle of oil in his hands. Per usual, there’s a pleasant smile on his face as he surveys you.

You hope that you’re not blushing brightly enough for him to notice.

“It’s just that…I’ve never had a massage before, so…,” you trail off, and it’s not a lie. Massages have always seemed like a luxury to you, so you’ve never gone out of your way to get one, despite how much you’ve heard about their wonders.

“Ah,” Barbatos hums, a look of understanding in his eyes. “Well, we can always stop if it has an adverse effect on the situation. And I of course want you to feel comfortable.”

His words put your mind at ease. He’s always so kind, no matter who he’s talking to, or who is watching.

“So…how do we…start?” you ask, feeling far too awkward. You already have a suspicion that you know what he’s going to say, and yet—

“Are you mobile enough to take your shirt off?”

Ah, yep, there it is.

If there was any hope of hiding your blush before, there’s certainly none now. And yes, you’re aware that Barbatos is only offering to do this because you’re friends, and because you’re in pain. There should be no reason to be embarrassed by the situation, and yet you are.

You take a second to try and calm your mind.

“I…I think I can--,” you eventually say, attempting to sit up. However, as soon as you place your palms on the mattress and try to push yourself up, a bolt of pain shoots straight down your spine, and a high-pitched cry falls from your lips.

Barbatos’ hand is immediately on your back—a gesture of comfort. The warmth from his palm soaks through your t-shirt, and a small part of you wishes that he’d make a point of touching you more often.

“Well, I will take that as a resounding no.”

There’s a perplexed frown on his face as he looks at you—his worry deepening by the second.

“Can you lift your arms, at the very least?”

You grunt, miraculously managing to lift both of your arms above your head. Barbatos breathes a laugh, the position a little amusing. You’re beginning to look like a horrible contortionist.

“Would you be opposed to me undressing you?” Your brain short circuits for a moment. “Since you were able to lift your arms, it’s likely the easiest option at this point.”

“Sure,” you respond without hesitation. You’re desperately trying to keep your wits about you, and yet, you can’t help the way your body jolts when you feel Barbatos’ fingers grip the hem of your shirt.

He pauses for a moment.

“Did I startle you?”

“No…,” you grumble, causing him to laugh. He drags his hands upwards—the t-shirt slowly peeling up your back. When he gets near your breasts, you manage to inch your body off the mattress so it doesn’t get…well, caught.

Of course, as Barbatos pulls the fabric past your chest, you also realize that you hadn’t bothered to put on a bra today—entirely due to the fact that 1. Your body was too stiff to attempt even putting one on, and 2. Bras suck.

So now here you are—Barbatos finally ridding you of your shirt—which means you’re entirely bare from the waist up. Oh, and the only thing saving you from being completely naked in front of the royal butler is the pair of shorts you’re wearing, which suddenly feel far too short, and far too tight for comfort.

“Are you alright?” he questions. His hand settles between your shoulder blades, and you feel goosebumps rise on your flesh. You’re so used to the sensation of his soft gloves, that the skin on skin contact is making you react in ways you hadn’t expected…

“I’m okay,” you respond, nodding a little. You move your arms so they’re folded beneath your cheek, and you carefully turn your head—facing yourself away from Barbatos. The last thing you want is him seeing how red you’ve become.

“If so, then I’ll begin,” he says. You hear him pop open the cap on the bottle, and you take a quiet breath—trying to prepare yourself. “If you ever feel uncomfortable, please let me know.”

“Will do, Barb.”

You mumble the words without thinking, and it takes your brain a second to realize what you’ve said.

“I-I mean--,” your words cut off, breath hitching as Barbatos grips your sides. He moves his hands gently against your back, spreading the oil on his palms across your soft skin.

“Barb?” he echoes, chuckling to himself. “That’s a first.”

“I--,” you shiver as he continues rubbing his hands up and down your spine. Apparently, you’re much more sensitive to touch than you’d realized. Just great. “—just…I mean. Slip of the tongue?”

“You may call me “Barb” if you so wish,” he responds, and you can hear the amusement lining his tone. The demon drags his hands back up to your shoulders, his thumbs kneading at the tense muscles near your neck, and whine leaves your lips.

“Good or bad?” he questions, and as another shiver rakes up your spine, you realize just how fucked you are. Your body, of course, aches beneath the surface, but your skin is just so sensitive. It takes all of your willpower to keep from writhing against the sheets as he continues his ministrations—rubbing circles between your shoulder blades.

“Um…a little of both?”

He hums considerately at your comment, his eyes surveying you closely. Even as you attempt to stifle the instinctive reactions of your body, there’s a subtle twitch of your muscles—a small intake of breath, or a flex of your toes.

When he reaches your mid-back—his fingers curling around your sides as he presses his thumbs into the muscles near your spine—he hears you gasp. Your body stiffens, fingers digging into the sheets near your head. Barbatos debates stopping, but…he gets the feeling that you’re not in pain.

As the thought occurs to him, a little bit of heat rise to his face. Until now, he hadn’t thought twice about your current position, or the fact that he’s touching you so intimately, but…

Barbatos swallows, yet his hands continue on their journey down the length of your back. He works slowly, doing his best to thoroughly rub every inch of skin—hoping to soothe the tight muscles that lay beneath. Perhaps if he focuses on the task at hand, he’ll forget about the little whines that spill from your lips, or the way your body shivers beneath his fingers.

As Barbatos faces his own dilemma, you find yourself rapidly descending into insanity. Each second that ticks by with the demon butler’s hands roaming your body has tendrils of heat snaking through your limbs. As much as you attempt to ignore the way his touches are making you feel, it’s nearly impossible.

Quicker than you had expected, you feel arousal beginning to pool between your legs. You’d hadn’t intended to get turned on by the massage, but here you are—desperately trying to smother the array of embarrassing sounds that have built in your chest.

However, the instant Barbatos’ hands move to your lower back—thumbs pressing into the muscles near your spine—your lips part.

“Fuck,” you moan, your body curving into the mattress. Your toes curl, knees bending as your calves lift from the sheets.

Barbatos’ hands still. You go stiff, all of the blood in your body rushing to your face.

“I…Barbatos, I am so sorry, I—”

“I’ve never witnessed anyone react to a massage so…vocally,” he says, picking his words carefully. His fingers coast up your sides, once against making you shiver, and you bite your lip to keep from gasping when you feel his hair tickle your cheek.

“Would you prefer if I stopped now?” The words are whispered into your ear. You can feel his hot breath on your skin—the curl of his fingers around your ribcage as he holds you—and your heartbeat quickens.

“I…I don’t want you to stop,” you respond honestly, voice quiet. “But I’m not sure I can stop myself either…”

“I never could have imagined that you would be so affected by a simple massage,” he chuckles, his fingers giving you a little squeeze as he leans back, retaking his standing position beside you. You release a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding.

“I didn’t realize I would be either…I don’t blame you if you want to stop.”

“As long as you’re alright, I would like to keep going,” he informs you, his palms coasting down either side of your spine until his grip is once again settled near the sensitive spot on your tailbone. You keen as his hands cup either side of your ass, thumbs working into the tense muscles at the center of your back.

“Hah…,” your fingers once again grip the sheets. Now that Barbatos has addressed your reactions to his touches, you feel a bit more playful. “Are you actually enjoying my reactions?”

He chuckles. “Would it be inappropriate if I said yes?”

The gears in your head grind to a halt. Your tongue pokes out to wet your lips. That’s not what you had expected.

“…Really?”

“Perhaps it is a bit disgraceful for me to admit, but…,” his movements still, his fingers flexing and giving your ass the lightest of squeezes. “…I would very much enjoy it if we could continue.”

You’re surprised to hear such words from him, but you’d be lying if you said they didn’t excite you.

You nod your consent. “Go ahead.”

Barbatos reaches for the bottle of oil at his feet, pouring a little more into his hands. You jolt when his palms encase one of your thighs—his touch dragging down your leg until he gets to your ankle. He then repeats the action on your other leg, a smile tugging at his lips as he notes your body’s instinctual response to his touches.

However, he doesn’t make comment. Instead, he focuses on working at the muscles in your thighs—his thumbs carving a path down the center of the supple flesh. As he does so, you become acutely aware of how close his fingers are to your clothed womanhood.

The realization causes more wetness to pool between your legs, and you bite your lip, wondering exactly how much longer you’ll be able to withstand the massage before you finally crack.

You want to say that your current affliction is entirely your fault—that it’s solely a product of your oversensitive body’s reaction to the massage—but you know it’s not. Barbatos is obviously getting something out of this situation as well, and that something definitely bridges beyond the pride of being a good masseuse.

Your toes curl as he works at the muscles in your calves—a sigh heavy with need passing through your parted lips.

You want him to touch you more. Where you’re aching to be touched.

“Barb--,” you start, mentally preparing yourself for the embarrassing question you’re about to ask, but you never get there. Barbatos presses his fingers into the back of your knee, and a moan tears from your throat.

The butler pauses, his gaze turning to your face. Until now, you’ve spent the massage facing away from him, but when he glances up, he finds that you’re returning his stare. Your entire face is red, bottom lip tugged between your teeth as a clear sign of your embarrassment. However, he can tell by the look in your eyes—your pupils blown wide—that you’re aroused.

His heart thumps painfully against his ribs.

“Barb, I--,” you don’t know what to say, entirely out of sorts. You’re ashamed, and horny, and a part of you wants to run away, but another part wants him to continue forever.

“Y/N,” he drags you out of your inner turmoil by speaking your name. One of his hands reaches forward, cupping your cheek. He leans in, your faces mere inches apart, and you finally notice the blush on his cheeks. It’s subtle, but there.

His gaze falls to your lips.

“May I kiss you?”

“Yes,” you breathe immediately, and he closes the gap without second thought.

The kiss is tender—a little hesitant, but full of need, and not just from you. Sighing pleasantly, you mold your lips with his once more, and then again, but before you can turn the kisses into a full out make out session, you feel Barbatos’ palm on your ass.

His hand moves downward, sneaking between your snug thighs. When he presses his digits against your clothed sex, you can’t help the lewd gasp that leaves you. Your hips instinctively grind against him, seeking more friction, and you feel him smile.

“Shall I stop?” he whispers.

“No, don’t,” you shake your head, and Barbatos leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek. He’s pleased to hear those words.

Sitting back, Barbatos surveys you—watching you closely as he drags two of his fingers down the seam of your shorts. He hadn’t noticed before, but your arousal is already soaked into the dark fabric—a clear sign that you’d been enjoying his touches up until now.

When he finds that special bundle of nerves, drawing out another quiet cry falling from your lips, he chuckles. You bury your head in your folded arms, hips rocking back against his fingers.

“Ah, shit,” you breathe, unable to help yourself. You’re already so stupidly pent up from the massage—even him touching you through your shorts feels delicious. And Barbatos can’t help but get hard at the sight of you—your almost naked body curving against the mattress as you lift your hips and rock your pussy back and forth on his digits.

Reaching his free hand down, the demon butler gently squeezes your ass, relishing the little moan it draws from you. He helplessly craves to hear more of your sounds.

His fingers leave your clit, but before you can think to whine at the lost, you feel his digits curl around the crotch of your shorts. You freeze, heart hammering against your ribs, but don’t indicate for him to stop. While you’re nervous, you want this.

And Barbatos makes note of your reaction, giving you a few ample seconds to express any discontent. However, you do not, and so the butler tugs your shorts to the side, revealing your womanhood. You bite your lip, wriggling as his other hand slips beneath your shorts—once again taking hold of your ass without the fabric barrier.

As he holds you steady, two of his digits once more slide between your slick folds, gathering your arousal. You expect him to go back to rubbing your clit, but instead he curls his fingers into your pussy, and a gasp falls from your lips.

“Oh, fuck, Barb.” You groan. Your fingers take hold of the bed sheets, lip tugging between your teeth as you feel him experimentally pump his fingers in and out of you—stretching out your wet walls.

He moves slowly—testing the waters, and you clench around him—enjoying the girth of his fingers. Barbatos can’t take his eyes off of you.

“Is this alright?” he questions, curling his digits. The action has you moaning, and you nod your head.

“More, please.”

Barbatos breathes out through his nose at that, a little amused at the sound of your need.

Kneeling against the edge of the mattress to get a better angle, Barbatos begins picking up his pace. His fingers curl against your walls, and he smiles when he finds your sensitive spot—a surprised gasp escaping you. Immediately your stomach is curving into the mattress—hips pressing back as you attempt to take him deeper.

Barbatos gives your ass a squeeze, eyes sparkling. He debates asking if you’re feeling good, but he already knows the answer.

With his finger still fucking into you—your hips now rocking back ever so slightly to meet him—Barbatos moves his other hand between your legs. His thumb rests against your clit, drawing languid circles, and your breath catches.

“Fuck,” you bite the word out, muscles tensing. The demon butler feels your pussy clench around his fingers—orgasm quickly rising to the surface.

“Barb, please,” you whine, tugging at the sheets. Your heart is racing, breathless pants falling from your lips. Always one to please, Barbatos is more than happy to oblige. He presses against your clit harder, rubbing quicker, and in less than a minute, you’re coming undone for him.

Moan slipping past your lips, you tumble into your orgasm. Your pussy contracts around his still moving fingers, waves of pleasure rolling throughout your body. The butler doesn’t pull his digits from inside of you until he sees your body go slack against the sheets.

“You’re certainly one hell of a masseuse,” you mumble once you’ve regained your bearings, causing him to chuckle.

“I can assure you most of my clients don’t end up with my fingers inside of them.”

“No?” you question, a playful post-orgasm glow on your face as you turn to look at him. He smiles fondly at the sight of your pleasantly flushed cheeks.

“No,” he reassures, eyes creasing as he seats himself on the mattress beside you. For a moment, the two of you simply stare at each other, a sense of peace settling over the two of you. Then, your gaze falls to his lap. The tent against his slacks is quite obvious.

Noting where your eyes have strayed, Barbatos has the humility to blush.

“I apologize for my…reaction,” he quickly excuses himself, glancing away. “I assure you I didn’t intend to take advantage of you.”

Instead of responding, you press onto your hands and knees and turn to face him. With your face dangerously close to his crotch, you bat your eyelashes up at him innocently.

“If you don’t mind, I’d be perfectly alright with helping you in return, Barbatos.”

The butler looks shocked at the offer, but after a few seconds, he lifts a hand and gently cards it through your hair—a soft look of hunger in his eyes.

“Only if you wish.”

Smiling, you immediately prop onto your elbows—knees folding on the bed beneath you—and reach out to fiddle with his pants. Within seconds, you’ve managed to free his length. Your hand immediately wraps around the base of his shaft, and Barbatos closes his eyes at the sensation, taking a deep breath.

You smile at his pleased reaction, your mouth moving to press a kiss against his slit before you stick out your tongue and roll it around the head of his cock. And when you take him into your mouth—your hand still fisted around the lower half of his length, stroking languidly—his breath catches. The fingers in your hair grip a bit tighter.

You giggle around his cock.

“Good?” you question, pulling off. Your hand moves in bolder strokes against him, making up for the absence of your mouth as you turn to stare up at the demon. There’s a blush dusting his cheeks.

“I believe you’re asking a question you already know the answer to,” he responds, tongue darting out to wet his lips. You smile cheekily at his words, fingers tightening ever-so-slightly around his length. You see his jaw clench.

“Good.”

Turning, you once more take the tip of his cock between your lips. You focus yourself on pleasing Barbatos—alternating between trailing your tongue against him, and sucking him into your mouth. The combination of your hand pumping his shaft, and your mouth concentrating on his head is quite honestly devastating, and within minutes the demon butler finds himself nearing his release.

“Y/N,” he warns, his voice slightly strained. He gives your roots a little tug, and you release him from your mouth with an audible pop. You’re seriously going to drive him crazy.

“Yes?” you question, your hand continuing to stroke him. You feel his cock jump in your grip.

“Stay like this,” he says, keeping his hold on your hair. You take that as a sign to get him off with just your hand, and you don’t complain. If that’s his preference, then you’re more than happy to go with it.

Aware of his impending orgasm, you simply continue your ministrations—your fist pumping his shaft until he finally reaches his breaking point. With a shaky breath, Barbatos spills his seed into your hand. His chest rises and falls quickly as you pump him through his orgasm without missing a beat.

You only stop when he’s milked dry—his length beginning to go soft in your grasp.

“Is that fair payment for the massage?” you ask, looking up at him with a smile. He loosens his grip on your hair—his hand moving to cup your cheek as he stares at you. You can see the post-orgasm satisfaction swimming in his green eyes.

“No payment was required,” he tells you honestly. “But yes, that was very much enjoyable.”

A warm feeling of contentment settling in your chest, you move to sit up, but pause when you realize that you’re still topless. Eyes going wide, you cross your arms over your chest, face heating up, and Barbatos chuckles.

“After all we’ve experienced together tonight, you’re suddenly coy about me seeing your breasts?”

“You hush,” you tell him, swinging your legs off the side of the bed. You reach down to fetch your discarded t-shirt, and when you stand straight, an arm wraps around your waist from behind.

“You’re covered in oil, so I would suggest showering,” Barbatos tells you, pressing a soft kiss to your hair. The contact is only for a brief moment—his touch disappearing as he separates himself, taking a step back—and yet your heart flutters. “I’ll prepare the tea while you clean up.”

“Okay…,” you agree, glancing over your shoulder at him. He’s smiling pleasantly, looking far too put together for someone that just came a minute before. There’s not a hair out of place on his head—or even a stain on his trousers.

How unfair.

Turning, you head into your bathroom to rinse off, and Barbatos immediately busies himself with readying your beverages for the evening.

By the time you return from your shower—t-shirt back in place, and a towel atop your damp hair, the room is set up for a tea party. Barbatos is seated on one side of the table, casually surveying a book that you’d left on your desk. One you’d borrowed from Satan.

“I hope you don’t mind me taking up so much of your evening,” he says when he spots you, setting down the reading material.

“Not at all,” you say, moving to join him. Despite the newly shared intimacy between the two of you, the atmosphere feels comfortable, and you’re grateful for that.

Standing, Barbatos pours you both a cup of tea, and things fall into place as usual. You spend a long while chatting—catching up on events of the previous week, and talking about whatever topics cross your mind. By the time the snacks are gone, and the tea has gone cold, it’s quite late.

“I apologize for staying until such an hour,” he says as you help him clean the table. The screen of your DDD indicates that it’s already past 11. You shake your head.

“Seriously, Barb, it’s no big deal. I lost track of time too.”

He can’t help but chuckle at your nickname for him. It’s a nickname that will be solely reserved for you to say.

“Still, it is a school night. I’d best not stay any longer, or I fear Lucifer will have my head.”

“Well, I can’t exactly disagree with that,” you respond with a laugh, holding your arms in front of you. Your eyes trail on him as he finishes packing the basket he’d arrived with. He then picks it up, and starts for your door. You quietly follow after him.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” you ask, although you already know you will. Of course you will—Barbatos is always at RAD during the week.

Nonetheless, the demon butler smiles at you.

“Yes, I look forward to seeing you.”

With that, he grasps the doorknob and pulls your door open. However, he makes it only one step into the hall before he pauses, turning back to face you.

“Oh, and Y/N?”

You blink. “Hmm?”

“If you’d ever like another massage, please don’t hesitate to let me know. It seems to have worked wonders for you.”

A playful grin pulls at his lips, and he’s gone before you are able to fully digest his words. It takes you a good few seconds to realize what he means—your eyes looking down at yourself, and registering that you’re standing and walking without a sliver of pain.

“Ah!” you say, shocked, and you swear you hear him laugh from up the hall.

#om!#obey me #barbatos #barbatos fic #barbatos smut #om! smut #obey me smut #obey me fic #om! fic

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ceealaina · 3 years

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Title: Crashing Through Your Door Ship: IronHusbands Rating: Teen Major Tags: Pre-Iron Man 1, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining Card Number: 5023 (Tony Stark Bingo) 3002 (IronHusbands Bingo Square: R4 - Mutual Pining (Tony Stark Bingo) B4 - Fake Dating (IronHusbands Bingo) Link: AO3 Summary: To give himself a break, Tony's been using a made-up boyfriend to get out of meetings. He gets to stay home and tinker, the board things he's settling down, it's a win-win situation. Right up until Obie decides he wants to meet this boyfriend that's taking up so much of his time.

But what kind of best friend would Rhodey be if he didn't step up to be Tony's fake boyfriend? Tony’s nothing short of relieved and so Rhodey dresses up to be his date to the gala-of-the-week except wow, pretending they’ve secretly been in love for the past year is way easier than it should be... Word Count: 9237

Rhodey jogged down the stairs of Tony’s shiny new Malibu “beach house” (the thing was ridiculously large if you asked him, but Tony hadn’t) and let himself into the workshop. “Honey, I’m home!” he called out, blinking when he was met with a dark room. “Tones? JARVIS said you were down here.”

There was a faint groaning noise from the far corner, and when Rhodey turned the lights on, he found Tony sitting in a chair, slumped over his desk with his face buried in his arms.

“Oh no,” Rhodey deadpanned, picking his way through bits of machinery to kick Tony’s foot. “What did you do now?”

“I fucked up,” Tony moaned, the words muffled by his position. He lifted his head to peer at Rhodey, looking bleary in the face of sudden brightness. “Your concern for me is overwhelming, by the way. Really feeling the love here, Rhodes.”

Rhodey shrugged, unperturbed. “Your world is ending like every other week, and I was promised pizza and beer -- which I even brought because I’m an amazing friend -- so… If you’re gonna have a breakdown can we at least do it where there’s food?” He gave Tony a broad grin and a wink, and Tony rolled his eyes, trying to hide his own fond smile as he pushed back from the table.

“Yeah, alright, let’s go.”

When they were upstairs and he could get a better look at him, Rhodey had to admit that Tony was looking a little more frazzled than usual. His hair was extra fluffy, like he’d run his hands through it about fifty times, and his fingers were tapping out a constant jittery rhythm against his thigh. Rhodey waited until they were settled in front of some action movie, but when Tony wasn’t forthcoming with any information, Rhodey nudged his side. “Hey. You gonna tell me what’s bugging you?”

Tony groaned again, burying his face in his hands. “You’re gonna make fun of me,” he whined.

Rhodey smiled, even if Tony couldn’t see it. “Probably,” he agreed easily. “Tell me anyway?”

Tony huffed and pouted and squirmed but eventually he relented, shifting to sit sideways on the couch and face Rhodes. “Okay, so.” He sighed heavily. “You know, I’m head of SI now.”

“Really?” Rhodey drawled. “I hadn’t heard.”

Tony elbowed him hard in the side. “So there’s all this… Stuff that goes along with that. Like I wasn’t looking forward to the board meetings, but at least I expected those? But there’s all these other meetings, like fifty a day were nothing actually gets done, and there are the charity events, and the gladhanding, and the ‘come meet a friend of a friend of a friend of mine,’ and I have to be on all the time and -- Obie wanted me to learn squash, Rhodey. Squash.”

“Aww, come on. Bet you’d be cute in those little white shorts.”

“I hate you.” Tony told him. “Anyway, it’s a lot, and sometimes I just want to take a break and go hang out in the lab and build stuff, you know?”

“Do I know that you’d rather be a reclusive little lab gremlin? Yeah, I’d noticed that once or twice,” Rhodey teased.

“Whatever.” Tony squirmed again, clearly embarrassed, and Rhodey waited. “So, you know, to get out of doing stuff when I just really, really wasn’t feeling it, I, uh… I maybe told Obie that I was seeing someone?”

Rhodey blinked at him. “Oh no.”

Tony sighed heavily. “Oh yes.”

He sounded so forlorn that Rhodey couldn’t help but laugh at him, only laughing harder when that made Tony whine and try to smother himself with a throw pillow. “Tones, I say this because I love you, but how is someone this smart this fucking stupid?”

“I know, okay?” Tony wailed, accidentally throwing the pillow across the room as his arms flailed in emphasis. “I don’t know, it seemed like a great plan at first. It’s not like I was hurting anyone. The board even liked the idea that I was maybe settling down a little. So they’re relaxing a little, I get a night off… Everyone’s happy.”

“Until it blew up in your face, like your hare-brained plans always do?” Rhodey guessed.

“I resent that,” Tony told him. “JARVIS turned out fine. Didn’t you, J?”

“I haven’t started taking over the world yet,” JARVIS agreed. “Although I do have several contingencies in place.”

“Everyone’s conspiring against me,” Tony sighed, head tipping backwards to pout up at the ceiling.

Rhodey laughed, poked him in his side. “So what went wrong? Now Obie wants to meet this amazing boyfriend of yours?”

“Insisted on it,” Tony agreed. “Wants me to bring him to the firefighter thing next week. I’m pretty sure he’s on to me. He’s probably trying to force me to confess. Humiliate me so I learn my lesson. So obviously, I can’t give in.”

“Perish the thought,” Rhodey told him dryly, although really, he’d seen the effects of Obie’s brand of tough love. He couldn’t exactly blame Tony for not wanting to admit the truth, especially given how harmless the whole thing really was. God forbid Tony get a break every once in awhile.

“I just don’t know what I’m gonna do,” Tony groaned, scrubbing his hand through his hair again, leaving it standing up in all directions. “I can’t tell him. I thought about faking a breakup, but Obie’s not dumb. I break up with my long-term boyfriend days before he’s supposed to finally meet him? I might as well just tell him in that case. So my only option would be to get someone to fake it, but there’s no way that doesn’t blow up in my face. It can’t be anyone from work, and I don’t really know anyone else. I guess I could hire an escort, but how would they learn everything they’d need to know in time? You know that Obie would try and get them to slip. Plus, it’s not like I can get legal to just write up an NDA here. With my luck I’d end up blackmailed or something…”

Tony was working himself into an epic ramble, and Rhodey nodded along before shrugging. “Or I could just do it.”

Tony had already been off on another tangent, but as Rhodey’s voice caught up to him he stopped mid-word, staring at him. “I -- what?” he asked and Rhodey could already see his mind working overtime, trying to parse out what he was saying.

He laughed. “Or I could just do it,” he repeated. “Come on, dude. I already know everything about you, so I’m not gonna slip. And let’s face it, if I was gonna blackmail you, I would have done it ages ago. We went to college together, I’ve got way better shit than a fake boyfriend.” He nodded as he thought through the logistics. “Yeah, this’ll totally work.”

Tony blinked at him. “Really? Really. You think so. You have met Obie, right? No way he’s buying that. He’d be all, ‘Tony m’boy. I’ve known Jim since you first brought him home for Thanksgiving. You expect me to believe he’s this secret boyfriend of yours? No reason to hide that away!’”

Rhodey snorted; Tony’s Obidiah impression was a little too spot on. “Yeah, like he wouldn’t have had a shit fit if he thought we actually were dating. All the more reason to tell him it’s me. We’ll make him squirm a little. And, I don’t know. Just tell him because it was new, and a change in our relationship, we wanted to keep it under wraps. Have some time to ourselves, get a feel for what this meant…”

Tony scratched the side of his nose. “You’re weirdly smart sometimes, you know that?” he asked, which wasn’t exactly a no.

“The same excuse will work when we ‘break up’ later. Just tell him that now that we’re in the public eye, we’ve realized we’re better off as friends. No hard feelings, no big drama, no ‘it’s not you, it’s me,’ just… Friends.”

“I…” Tony considered this, closed his mouth, blinked, and opened it again. “But…” He closed his mouth again and then sank back into the cushions. “You really think it’ll work?”

Rhodey laughed. “Have I ever let you down?”

“Constantly,” Tony replied immediately, but he was grinning. “Shit. I mean… You make some good points.” He drew a deep breath, mind still running over all the outcomes, and then nodded, a smile growing over his face as he got onboard. “Yeah, okay. I think this’ll work.”

***

One week later, Rhodey was meeting up with Tony in an all-night coffee shop a couple blocks away from the gala, like some kind of Cold War spy fantasy. Apparently Obie had been planning to hang around Tony’s place beforehand, and Tony thought things would run more smoothly if they ‘introduced’ Rhodey at the gala, where there would be lots of wealthy investors to distract him.

There was a little bell over the door that chimed when Rhodey stepped in, and immediately he saw Tony’s head snap up from a table at the far end of the shop. “Rhodey! Hey!” he said, bouncing with nerves like this was an actual first date and not his best friend. Rhodey arched an eyebrow as he reached the table and spotted the two mugs of coffee.

“You sure you need those?” he asked, grinning to try and set Tony at ease. “You already seem jittery enough for the two of us.”

“One of them’s for you,” Tony grumbled. “Leave me alone, I’m kind of stressed right now.”

“I don’t think coffee’s gonna help, man. You look like you’re gonna bounce through the roof.”

“I hate you,” Tony informed him, huffing as he folded his arms across his chest and hunched over in his chair. “You’re doing a terrible job so far, by the way. I thought the deal was you’d pretend to be besotted with me, not tell me how dumb I look.”

“You do look dumb,” Rhodey told him. “That’s what I like about you.” Then, when that finally got a hint of a smile on Tony’s face, “You want me to do besotted? I can do besotted.” He made a show of looking Tony up and down, eyes lingering over his chest and arms and the peak of thigh that he could see slipping under the table before sliding back up to make eye contact again. He tilted his head a little, letting a slow smile spread over his face as he glanced at Tony from under his eyelashes. “You look good tonight, Tones,” he purred, letting his voice drop down to his flirting voice, low and velvety. Then he grinned wide, shifting his voice back to normal. “That besotted enough for you?:

“Uh.” Tony blinked at him and swallowed hard, before shaking his head. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s… Good. Great. Yeah.” He jumped to his feet then, not seeming to notice the untouched coffees. “We should go.”

There was the usual flurry of paparazzi outside the event, but Rhodey had been to enough of these events that his appearance wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. He knew this was more for SI than the media (the last thing Tony would need was a bunch of reporters hounding him about his breakup later) but he figured it couldn’t hurt to start selling it on the way in. Tony jumped a little when Rhodey’s hand settled on the small of his back, even though they shared casual touches about a million times a day, but he looked over at Rhodey with a small smile as he steered him past the cameras and the questions and into the building.

“Hey,” Rhodey leaned in close so they wouldn’t be overheard. “You really do look good tonight, man. That suit suits you.”

Tony snorted at that, but he seemed to relax a little too. “Wow, Rhodes,” he drawled. “Such a way with words.” He laughed though, and his eyes were sparkling and pleased. Then he shoved Rhodey and Rhodey shoved him back and they made their way down the hotel hall like that, laughing as their shoulders bumped together.

As soon as they stepped inside the ballroom though, Tony stopped. Rhodey’s hand had resettled on his back and Rhodey could feel him tense as he spotted Obie, standing across the room and chatting up a bunch of rich-looking men in expensive suits.

“Deep breaths, Tones,” Rhodey told him, shifting his hand slightly in a barely-there rub of Tony’s back. Tony glanced at him again, but his smile was tight now, eyes pinched at the corners.

“Come on. Let’s get this over with,” he muttered -- but he did take a deep breath.

When they joined the group it took a minute before Obie spared them a glance (though Rhodey had no doubt that he knew they were there and was just pulling yet another Obadiah power move). When he spotted Rhodey, his expression shifted, souring slightly before settling into something almost smug. He excused himself with a jovial smile, walking in the direction of the bar without waiting to see if Rhodey and Tony were following him. Rhodey heard Tony sigh softly, and he gave his forearm a quick squeeze.

Obie came to a stop, looking back and forth between them like they were misbehaving children, and finally settled his gaze on Tony, arching an eyebrow. “What’s this? I thought you were going to bring your boyfriend, Tony. Hmm? We had an agreement.”

Personally, Rhodey thought that an ‘agreement’ was an odd way to refer to meeting your godson’s significant other for the first time.

Beside him, Tony shifted nervously. “I, uh… I did.”

Obie blinked and made a show of looking around the room. “And where is he, then?”

“Um, well. I… I mean…”

Obie cut Tony off with a heavy, exaggerated sigh. “Tony, we’ve discussed this. You’re too old to be pulling this kind of nonsense. You’ve got responsibilities, you can’t just run around doing whatever you want. If the board --,”

“It’s Rhodey!” Tony blurted out suddenly, eyes wide. He grabbed Rhodey’s hand half a beat later, tangling their fingers together as he held Rhodey’s hand up for proof. Rhodey gave his hand a quick squeeze in return. “Surprise?”

Obie stared back at them, actually looking taken aback for once. “You’re kidding,” he said flatly. But Rhodey could tell that Tony’s nervousness was actually working in his favour, that Obie wasn’t quite sure that it wasn’t true.

“Nope,” Rhodey told him, meeting Obie’s gaze head on before turning back to Tony with the softest smile he could manage. It wasn’t too difficult with Tony looking as nervous as he did, and the sweet little smile that Tony gave him in return looked a lot more real than it had before. “You know how it goes,” he added. “We were just hanging out late one night, playing video games, everything normal. And I just looked at Tony and thought, ‘wow, I have to kiss that man.’ So I did and it was everything I didn’t know I’d been missing.” He rubbed his thumb over Tony’s hand, obvious enough that Obie would track the movement. “I guess it’s been simmering for awhile, you know? Just didn’t realize it until right then.”

Apparently Rhodey had his smitten face down pat because Obie’s posture eased slightly, though he still looked somewhat suspicious. “Alright,” he said finally. “I suppose congratulations are in order.”

He didn’t sound particularly congratulatory.

“Behave yourself, boys,” he told them before abandoning them in favour of a potential investor across the room.

Immediately, Tony sagged against Rhodey, the air leaving his lungs in a rush. “Oh god,” he groaned, head falling against Rhodey’s shoulder. “I need like seventeen drinks. Jesus Christ.”

Rhodey huffed out a laugh. “Come on, sugartits. I’ll buy you a drink. I know how to take care of my man.”

“It’s an open bar, asshole,” Tony protested, but he let Rhodey tug him over to the counter. “Also, I object to ‘sugartits’ being my nickname, what the fuck?”

“Hey man, I’m just trying to sell the bit.”

“Seriously though. Sugarass maybe, cause, I mean, look at me. But sugartits? Come on Rhodes, do better.”

Rhodey snorted, automatically placing Tony’s drink order along with his own. “Just think of it as payback for all the dumbass nicknames you’ve given me over the years,” he offered.

“But those come from a place of love!” Tony insisted, laughing at Rhodey’s eyeroll.

“Sure, Tones. Whatever you say.” He turned to pass Tony his drink and found him watching him with a look on his eyes that he couldn’t quite place. “What? Something on my face?”

“No,” Tony told him. “I just… I like the story you made up there. About how we got together? That was… Nice.” Then he shifted, clearing his throat. “A nice touch, I mean. I think you really sold it. Anyway! I think they’re bringing out dinner soon. Should we go sit?”

“Yeah, sure,” Rhodey said, a little nonplussed; Tony seemed even more frenetic than usual. “Let’s go.”

Dinner could have gone better. Tony was jumpy and twitchy, hyper focused on his food and constantly losing track of the conversation. Rhodey knew it was nerves, but that didn’t mean much when the board members they were seated with kept giving them odd looks and Obie’s expression was growing more and more suspicious.

They were waiting for dessert when Tony’s arm twitched and caught his (thankfully mostly empty) wine glass, sending it wobbling precariously on the tablecloth. Rhodey’s hand snapped out automatically, catching it before it could fall and ruin the tablecloth along with everyone's fancy clothes. And then, because Tony was going to blow his own cover before the dancing even started, he curled his hand over Tony’s on the table, threading their fingers together. Tony turned and blinked at him, and Rhodey gave his hand a quick squeeze but didn’t let go. He grinned at him and a beat later Tony was grinning back, tension easing out of his body.

They’d decided beforehand that they’d keep it simple, no PDA or soppy love declarations, wanting to be believable. But Rhodey figured that it wouldn’t hurt to turn up the romance a little, so he kept hold of Tony’s hand, only letting go when dessert was served and Tony needed his hand back to eat.

They’d both chosen different dessert options, and Tony’s French chocolate-whatever looked absolutely delicious. Rhodey eyed it, consideringly, and after a few bites of his own dessert, he leaned over and stole a not-insignificant piece of Tony’s. The absolutely scandalized look that Tony gave him had him laughing, nearly choking on his bite -- which was just as delicious as it had looked.

“What?” he asked, giving Tony a sugar-sweet smile in return.

“That’s my dessert!” he protested. “You’ve got your own.” He gestured wildly at Rhodey’s plate with his fork, and Rhodey just shrugged back at him.

“Perks of dating,” he told him, leaning in close and dropping his voice. “Sugarass,” he added, getting a snicker out of Tony in response.

“You’re an idiot,” he grumbled, and then snatched a bite of Rhodey’s dessert in return.

“Hey,” Rhodey protested right back at him, slapping at Tony’s fork with his own. Tony huffed at him, slapped his fork in return, and a beat later they were in a mini fork battle. Out of the corner of his eye Rhodey could see Obie glaring at the two of them, looking utterly unimpressed, but it was worth it for the way Tony was laughing, finally looking at ease. Rhodey’d always thought that Tony had a great laugh, so anything he could do to make it happen was a win in his book.

Obie lasted until the instant the music started up for the dancing and then he was gripping Tony’s arm, pulling him to his feet with just a little more force than necessary. “Tony. I have some contacts for you to meet. I told them you’d be here, and they’d be a real asset to SI, so…” He trailed off, leaving whatever his implication was supposed to be hanging, and Tony turned his head enough to give Rhodey a truly epic eye roll.

“Alright,” he sighed, not even pretending that he wasn’t completely put out by the idea. Rhodey winked back at him, and the pinched look around Obie’s lip tightened.

“I trust you can occupy yourself for a few minutes,” he added, giving Rhodey a pointed eyebrow raise.

Rhodey gave Obie a bland look in return. “Yup. I’ll manage,” he drawled, barely getting the words out before Obie was dragging Tony away. Tony shot him a pained look over his shoulder and Rhodey offered a commiserating eye roll.

These events were always truly boring when Tony wasn’t around to occupy his attention. Rhodey polished off his own dessert and then finished the last few bites of Tony’s just for good measure -- he could consider it payment in kind for the entire night. Then, when the rest of their table had cleared out, he grabbed a drink and made the rounds, chatting with the few SI employees that he knew, getting hauled into conversations with a few people that he didn’t. He’d fended off no less than three horny old ladies (they were always a sucker for the military dress uniform) when he decided it had probably been long enough that he could rescue Tony again.

He found him sitting at an empty table, nursing a half full glass of scotch and looking absolutely drained. Rhodey sighed briefly and then moved over to join him, taking the seat beside Tony and nudging his foot against his ankle. “You alright?”

Tony looked up quickly, giving him a smile that was just a little too bright. “Yeah, yeah, I’m good. Just… You know…”

He didn’t have to specify what, but Rhodey nodded anyway. Then he pried the glass out of Tony’s hand, setting it on the table, and tangled their fingers instead. “Come on,” he said, standing up.

Tony resisted him a little just because, leaning back in his seat and arching an eyebrow up at Rhodey. “Where are we going?”

Rhodey winked at him. “Come on, now. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t ask you for at least one dance, huh?”

Tony smiled all soft and sweet, like he could hide how happy that made him. “Yeah, alright,” he agreed, slowly getting to his feet with his hand still tangled in Rhodey’s. “Let’s dance.”

There was a brief moment of confusion when they landed on the dance floor, and Tony, who had apparently never been led before (which was something of a tragedy, if you asked Rhodey) wasn’t quite sure what to do with his hands. But Tony wasn’t the only one who could dance, thank you very much, so Rhodey got him settled and led him over the dance floor in a fast-paced waltz. Their form was terrible, Rhodey was pretty sure, but he didn’t particularly care when Tony was beaming, giggling into his shoulder when they nearly took out an older couple on their way by.

They made it through two and a half songs before the music shifted into something slower and softer. Tony tensed for a bare second, but Rhodey didn’t let him go, just tightened his arm around Tony’s waist, and a beat later he was sinking into it, relaxing in Rhodey’s arms.

“Thank you for this,” Tony said softly, eyes somewhere around Rhodey’s collarbone. “This is… This is nice.”

Rhodey just hummed and pulled Tony in a little closer. “Yeah,” he agreed, something warm and familiar settling in his stomach. “Yeah, it is.”

There was another beat and then Tony shifted and leaned in, resting his cheek against Rhodey’s shoulder as the two of them swayed slowly to the beat of the music. The warm feeling in Rhodey’s stomach grew, something familiar and comfortable settling deep inside him. Tony sighed softly, breath fluttering against the base of Rhodey’s neck, and Rhodey felt his heart stop.

Oh shit. He was in love with his best friend.

Tony must have felt him tense slightly because he pulled back to look up at him. “This alright?” he asked quietly, and there was something in his eyes, something nervous and wanting.

Just like that Rhodey felt his heart start up again, comfortable and easy and exactly how everything was supposed to me. “Yeah,” he said, pulling Tony in closer still until they were pressed chest to chest. “This is just fine.”

***

The rest of the night passed in a blur of drinking and dancing and schmoozing and more drinking, and every time Rhodey looked over at Tony he could feel his smile growing wider. Now that he’d realized, it seemed so obvious; of course he was in love with Tony. He had been for years. He’d always known he’d felt different about Tony, that he was special. He just hadn’t been able to put a finger on exactly how before. And now that he had, everything felt right.

And he was pretty sure that he wasn’t alone in his feelings. He knew what Tony looked like with a crush, the little smiles, the nervous giggles, the way he got so sweet. Rhodey had just never expected to see those signs directed at him, so he figured he could be forgiven for missing them until now. But now that he had seen it, he was going to take full advantage.

When the night was over the two of them slipped outside, arms wrapped around each other. Rhodey hadn’t realized just how drunk he was until he hit the fresh air, stumbling a little down the steps, and he let Tony pour him into the car they were sharing home. There was no actual reason for them to go back to the same place so Happy would drop Rhodey off at his apartment first, and he couldn��t help being a little disappointed about that. He thought about suggesting that they both go back to Tony’s place anyway, in case Obie decided to check up on them maybe, but coming up with a valid reason felt like too much effort. Instead he looked over at Tony and grinned wide.

“What?” Tony asked, laughing a little at Rhodey’s expression. Clearly he hadn’t drunk as much as him, or at least he was handling it better if he had.

Rhodey just shook his head. “I’m gonna date you so hard,” he declared.

***

When Rhodey woke up the next morning, it was with a wicked hangover. But after a hot shower, greasy food, and a few hours of mindless television, he had a plan. Really, Tony had given him the perfect opening with all this fake boyfriend stuff. Rhodey just had to… Take it up a notch or two.

So once he was feeling a little more human again, he called Tony. It took a few rings for him to pick up, and when he finally did there was loud music blaring in the background that had Rhodey smiling.

“Hey baby,” he drawled into the receiver, grinning when that got a snort out of Tony.

“Obie’s not tapping the phones,” he told him. “You don’t have to keep playing boyfriend when he’s not around.”

“Well see, there’s the thing,” Rhodey told him. “I figure we can’t ‘break up’ right away, otherwise Obie’s gonna know the whole thing was a fake and then what would the point have even been, right?”

“Okay…”

“Okay,” Rhodey agreed. “And I should probably go to a few more events with you too. Now that he knows, he’s gonna be even more suspicious if I just keep leaving you to attend things solo, right?”

“I guess,” Tony agreed, sounding more confused than anything.

“Exactly,” Rhodey told him. “So I was thinking, if we’re gonna pull off something a little more long term, especially now that he’ll be over the surprise of it, we should probably get together and practice.”

“Practice,” Tony repeated, sounding even more confused. “You want to practice being my boyfriend?”

“Well, you know…” Rhodey hedged, because yes, that was exactly what he wanted, but he didn’t want to give all his cards away here. “Figure out pet names, and who sleeps on what side of the bed. Stuff like that.”

“Are you still drunk?” Tony’s confusion had given way to amusement. “You think Obie’s gonna ask what side of the bed we sleep on?”

“Well, no,” Rhodey admitted. “But somebody else might, and he could overhear it. We should just be prepared, is all.”

Tony hummed on the other end of the line. “You know, if you wanted to hang out and have me buy your pizza, you just had to say so.”

“You’re an asshole, Tones. I’m helping you, remember.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say.” There was a faint clatter from somewhere across the room, and Tony huffed out a laugh, low and warm. “I’ll be in the lab, come over whenever.”

***

Rhodey showed up at Tony’s place a couple hours later, wielding the t-shirt that hugged his biceps just right and a bouquet of flowers. The doors opened for him automatically, but when he made his way down to the lab Tony was distracted by whatever he was working on and didn’t even hear him come in. Rhodey leaned against a table and waited, and when Tony showed no signs of even looking up, he finally cleared his throat.

“So are we gonna hang out, or should I go away and give you and your screwdriver some alone time?”

Tony turned then, a grin on his face, but whatever response he’d been going to give died as he took in the flowers in Rhodey’s hand. “Uhh…” He arched an eyebrow and met Rhodey’s eyes. “Did you bring me flowers?”

Rhodey shrugged lazily, holding the bouquet out towards him. “I told you. Practice.”

Tony blinked at him, a pleased little smile playing over his lips. “You’re weird,” he said, but he took the flowers and held them up to his nose, inhaling deeply even though they were just grocery store daisies and didn’t have much of a scent at all.

Rhodey shrugged, and gave him that slow, easy grin that was his go-to pick up move (and that he’d practiced in the mirror before, not that he’d admit it). He held eye contact until Tony blinked away first, clearing his throat and squirming a little at the attention -- a definite good squirm.

“Um, thanks,” Tony told him. “I’m gonna…” He trailed off, waggling the flowers a little, and headed for the stairs. “You thirsty? Hungry?”

“I could eat,” Rhodey admitted.

Tony nodded as he headed up the stairs, not waiting to see if Rhodey was following. “Wanna order in?”

“Obviously,” Rhodey teased. “I’ve seen your kitchen. Pretty sure there’s been nothing edible in there for weeks.”

“Wow, rude.” Tony’s protest was half-hearted and he shot a grin at Rhodey over his shoulder. “But probably not wrong. I should hire a life coach, or an assistant maybe.”

“I thought that was JARVIS’s job.”

“Alas,” JARVIS sighed. “I can only order the food, I have not yet developed the ability to get Sir to eat it.”

“Okay,” Tony protested. “Now you’re both ganging up on me? So rude.”

Since he didn’t want to freak Tony out, Rhodey dialed it back down once they were in the kitchen, and Tony had tracked down a crystal pitcher that probably cost more than Rhodey’s rent to shove his grocery store flowers into. They bickered good-naturedly over the food like always, finally settling on Thai, and then Tony showed him the latest mods to his current favourite car while they waited for the food to arrive. Tony tipped the delivery guy an amount that took generous to a whole other level (something Obie constantly gave him shit for, but Rhodey happened to love about him) and then they settled in front of the enormous television to bicker some more over what movie they were going to watch. A normal, perfect evening.

He waited until they were both full and satisfied, the half full containers of leftovers littering the coffee table in front of them, and Tony was fully absorbed in the movie they’d finally settled on (Ghostbusters, again). Then, as subtly as he could manage and feeling a little like he was fourteen, Rhodey sank back into the overstuffed cushions and then stretched his arm out to hook over Tony’s shoulder.

There was a beat, and while Tony didn’t quite tense up, he did go still. “Um.”

When Rhodey chanced a glance over at Tony, he was looking back at him. His lips were pressed together, but he looked amused again.

“Whatcha doin?”

Rhodey shrugged, and since Tony wasn’t giving any indication of being uncomfortable, he tightened his arm slightly, pulling him in against him a little. “Practice.”

There was another beat and then Tony seemed to shrug as well, settling more comfortably against him, head pillowed against Rhodey’s shoulder as he went back to the movie.

***

“H’lo?”

Rhodey’s voice was slurred as he answered the phone, squinting at his alarm clock. It took a minute for his blurry eyes to reconcile the display into actual numbers: 4:38 am.

“It’s me.”

Tony’s voice sounded off slightly, softer, and Rhodey blinked a few times, trying to force himself into wakefulness. “Tones? You okay?”

“Yeah!” Tony answered quickly, laughing a little. “Yeah, I’m fine. Promise.”

Rhodey looked over at the clock again, suspicious now. “You just going to bed?”

“Maybe?” Tony laughed again, and Rhodey could hear the genuine smile in his voice. “Sorry, I should have waited to call, I know. I just… I had to ask you a favour, and it’s really late notice already so even though it’ll probably be no, I thought if I don’t ask now then it’ll really be too late. And I meant to ask you before, I just… Didn’t.”

“Tones.” Rhodey was laughing as he interrupted, rubbing at his eyes. “What is it?”

“I, um… There’s another event tonight. Some charity something or other that I have to go to, and Obie’s been making comments about you, I don’t know if he really totally believes me, so uh…” There was a strange note in Tony’s voice, one that Rhodey was too tired to decipher. “I don’t suppose you want to come with me?”

Rhodey grinned up at the ceiling, letting his eyes fall shut. “Yeah,” he hummed. “Course I’ll be your date tonight.”

***

What with their conflicting, hectic schedules, Rhodey hadn’t actually seen Tony since the day after the gala, almost two weeks ago now. It was always good to see him when they’d been apart for awhile, but this time was even better, Rhodey taking an extra minute to take in the cut of Tony’s suit, the perfect way it fit when he showed up to pick him up.

“You look good, man,” he told him.

Tony rolled his eyes a little at the compliment, but when they got into the car, Rhodey could see the reflection of his pleased smile in the windshield.

The gala could have been a repeat of the one before, the same people, the same food, the same tasteful, boring decorating scheme. This time, however, Obie was near the door when they came in, excused himself with a slight frown to meet them.

“Tony,” he said in lieu of an actual greeting, looking him over with a critical assessing eye that made Rhodey want to tell Tony again just how good he looked -- doubly so when he noted the tiny little self-conscious ankle twist that Tony let slip under his godfather’s inspection. “Jim,” he added when Tony had apparently passed muster, turning to him with an arched eyebrow. “Tony didn’t tell me you were joining him tonight.”

“Yes I did,” Tony grumbled mutinously, making Rhodey grin.

They made it through the obligatory Obie small talk without Rhodey punching anything, and once he’d gone off to schmooze some more rich people, Rhodey elbowed Tony in the side. “I thought you said Obie was asking questions,” he teased. “I thought that was why you wanted me to be your date tonight.”

“Shut up,” Tony grumbled, and Rhodey thought he could see a flush trailing up the back of his neck. “Come on, I’ll buy you a drink. Since you’re so hung up on being my date.”

“It’s an open bar,” Rhodey huffed as he followed him, not caring that it was a repeat of Tony’s joke from the last time. “The drinks are free!”

Tony grinned at him over his shoulder. “Guess that makes you a cheap date then, huh?”

Rhodey managed to talk Tony into three slow dances this time, holding him close because he had to sell it, obviously. The flutter of Tony’s breath on his neck sent shivers through him every time, and by the end of the third dance, Rhodey was feeling a little drunk from it. Tony seemed more comfortable this time too, laughing and smiling at Rhodey more than usual, fluttering his eyelashes and playing up the boyfriend aspect, and the weight of all his attention and affection left Rhodey reeling.

They had both drunk enough that, when the night started to wind down, Rhodey convinced Tony not to drive home. It was hot, the two of them flushed from dancing and drinking, and they headed outside to wait for the car he’d called. The air wasn’t much cooler outside, but it was a rare, misty night, and Tony turned his face up to the rain, eyes closed and a faint smile on his face at the refreshing sensation. Rhodey watched him, and wanted so badly to kiss him that he could almost taste it. He hadn’t yet, and while he probably could have pulled it off as part of the whole fake boyfriend thing, that felt like cheating somehow. He wanted Tony to kiss him, not some fake ruse version of himself.

“Um…” Tony had looked back over at him, and Rhodey realized he had been caught staring. “You doing okay there, honeybear?”

“Yeah.” Rhodey grinned at him, aware that his face was doing something a little dopey but not particularly caring. “Just tired.”

“Well let’s get you to bed then, huh?” Tony asked before giggling as the innuendo caught up to him. “I mean home. To your bed. I mean…” He cut himself with a snort. “You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean.” Rhodey agreed easily.

Tony beamed at him and then nudged his arm. “Come on,” he said, wrapping a hand around Rhodey’s wrist almost without noticing. “That’s our car.”

Rhodey grinned at the touch, even if he couldn’t help regretting that the night was over. “Hey Tony?” he asked as the two of them slid into the backseat of the car. “Want to grab lunch tomorrow?”

***

Tomorrow ended up being three days later, because the both of them were entirely too busy, but that was nothing new. Tony was already waiting when Rhodey got there, doodling equations on a napkin, and he grinned at the sight of him.

“Whatcha working on?” he asked, dropping into the seat opposite him. “Saving the world?”

“Something like that.” Tony winked at him and then nodded as a server came out from the kitchen, balancing a tray laden down with burgers and beer. “Sorry,” he said, not sounding it at all. “I was starving and didn’t want to wait for you to get here, so I ordered for you.”

“So impatient,” Rhodey teased, kicking his ankle under the table.

“Hey! It seemed nicer than making you sit there and watch me eat.” Tony stuck his tongue out at him as their plates were unloaded, immediately digging headfirst into his fries. Rhodey snorted as he reached for his own burger, grinning when he found it onion-free with extra pickles, just the way he liked it.

“Thanks, man.”

The food was delicious, and Rhodey hadn’t realized just how hungry he was until he was digging in. Tony had ordered a massive amount of fries for both of them, but Rhodey couldn’t resist stealing some of Tony’s anyway. Of course then Tony had to retaliate by stealing Rhodey’s entire beer (before immediately ordering him another one).

When they’d finished the majority of their food, they settled into talking and picking at their leftover fries. Neither of them was quite ready to leave yet, pretending they were still eating so they’d have an excuse to keep talking. Tony was in the middle of describing an idea he’d had to make cell phones better, eyes all wide and bright the way they got when he was really excited about something, and Rhodey couldn’t resist reaching across the table, curling his hands over Tony’s where it was resting against the laminate. Tony stuttered a little over his explanation, coming to a stop as he looked up at Rhodey with a small smile.

“Practice?”

Rhodey nodded, beaming at him. “Practice,” he agreed, feeling Tony’s hand squeeze briefly against his.

***

They kept on like this, and although Tony didn’t make any moves himself, he didn’t seem to mind Rhodey moving on him, and Rhodey was pretty sure he was making progress. He seemed to expect the hand holding now, looked forward to it, even. He didn’t question Rhodey about it anymore, would just teasingly ask, “practice?” as their fingers twined together. The last time they’d been out for dinner, Tony’s hand had settled palm up on the table without him even seeming to realize, waiting for Rhodey to take it.

They cuddled all the time now too, and while Tony had always been touchy feely, this felt like more. As soon as they had a chance to sit down together for more than a few minutes, Rhodey would wrap an arm around Tony’s shoulder and immediately he’d settle in against him with a soft little sigh like this was exactly where he belonged. It never failed to set something pleasant thrumming through every inch of Rhodey’s body.

And while Tony had never been shy with the pet names, Rhodey had started adding his own. Nothing over the top, just slipping a ‘baby’ or a ‘sweetheart’ into conversation here or there. The first time he’d done it, not as a joke but as easy and natural as he said Tony’s name, Tony had actually stammered over whatever he’d been saying, an adorable flush colouring his cheeks before he regained his train of thought. He’d looked so ridiculously kissable in that moment that it was all Rhodey could do to stop himself.

Progress.

***

Rhodey slung an arm around Tony’s waist as they headed into yet another charity event. This one was more lowkey than normal, which Rhodey definitely wasn’t complaining about. Tony looked amazing in his jeans-and-leather-jacket combo, and Rhodey had never been happier to ‘pretend’ to be dating because there was now way he was going to be able to tear his eyes off Tony’s ass.

They made it through a round of drinks before Rhodey realized something was missing, eyes narrowing slightly as he scanned the other attendants. “Hey Tones?”

“Mmm?”

“Where’s Obie? Don’t you usually want to get that over with first thing?”

“Oh, uh…” Tony looked away quickly, acting like he was also scanning the room, but Rhodey knew him well enough to tell when he was faking it to avoid eye contact. “He must be running late.”

“Late,” Rhodey repeated dryly, not believing a word of it. “That’s more your scene, last I checked. In fact, I’ve never known Obidiah Stane to be more than a second late in his life. He’s a stickler for it, it’s kinda his whole deal.”

“Oh well, you know.” Tony shrugged, still not quite meeting Rhodey’s eyes, but there was a hint of a sheepish smile curling over his lips. “Things happen, traffic in LA, freak storms… There’s a first time for everything, right?”

Rhodey snorted. “Is he even coming?”

“Uh, you know…” Tony scratched at the back of his neck, and now there was a definite smile on his lips. “Maybe I got this event confused with another one?”

“I don’t believe it!” Rhodey crowed.

“Oh my god.”

“Oh no, don’t you ‘oh my god’ me. I specifically remember you telling me that Obie insisted that I come tonight. Obie’s not even here, Tony.” He gave him his best grin then. “You know, if you wanted a date, all you had to do was ask.”

Tony rolled his eyes, but he was grinning a little stupidly like he couldn’t help himself. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he insisted before curling his hand around Rhodey’s forearm and tugging. “Come on, Rhodes, dance with me.”

“Ohhh,” Rhodey teased, although he was already moving toward the dance floor, his arm back around Tony’s waist. “So now you want a dance.”

“People will talk,” Tony offered lamely, still fighting back a smile. “Wonder what kind of asshole I’m dating if he won’t even give me a dance.”

“Oh right, of course.” Despite his teasing, Rhodey didn’t hesitate to wrap his arm around Tony, drawing him close for a dance. This time Tony didn’t even pause, drawing in just as close until they were pressed chest to chest, Tony’s breath hot on his neck. Rhodey adjusted his hold, shifting them until his lips were almost pressed against Tony’s ear. “Well,” he offered, voice pitched low and smooth. “If Obie’s not even here, you wanna slip out early? Go back to my place, maybe, watch a movie?”

Tony shivered as Rhodey’s breath tickled his ear. “Yeah,” he agreed, sounding out of breath. “Yeah, let’s do that.”

***

Tony was uncharacteristically quiet in the car, peering out the window and lost in thought. He didn’t seem upset though, and when Rhodey finally caught his gaze in the window reflection, he gave him a bright smile. A beat later he slid a little closer on the bench seat, even though the cab driver hadn’t even recognized Tony and certainly wouldn’t have cared if they were supposed to be dating or not.

The stillness went away as soon as they stepped through the door of Rhodey’s apartment, his typical manic energy coming back tenfold. He threw himself down on the couch like he belonged there before immediately getting up again. He went to peruse Rhodey’s movie shelf about five different times, every time getting distracted by nothing, opening cupboards and drawers and wandering away without closing them again and while rambling on about nothing the entire time. Rhodey watched him in amusement for a few minutes before coming over as he moved to open yet another drawer, curling his hands over Tony’s and holding them still.

“You good, man?”

Tony went silent, staring at him for a long minute, and then nodded slowly. “Yeah,” he said before blinking and turning abruptly toward the kitchen. “I’m hungry,” he announced. “Are you hungry? I want cupcakes. Chocolate cupcakes. Do you think there’s somewhere around here that will deliver chocolate cupcakes? Who has the best chocolate cupcakes in LA?”

Rhodey snorted and shook his head. “Pretty sure all the bakeries are closed by now, but I’ve got some Duncan Hines cake mix in my cupboard somewhere. Will that do?”

Tony grinned at him, a little sheepish. “Yeah,” he agreed. “That sounds good.”

The cake mix, it turned out, was easy to find, right next to the muffin tins. The electric beater his mother had gifted him, however, was a whole other story. Rhodey set Tony to work measuring out the additional ingredients while he went rooting through the cupboard under his sink, finally emerging with dust in his hair and a triumphant, ‘ah-ha!’

Tony huffed out a laugh at the sight of him, his smile fond. He’d pulled off his suit jacket, leaving it draped haphazardly over a kitchen chair, and his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. Rhodey got distracted for a moment, staring at the muscles in his forearms, and then shook himself out of it, nudging Tony away from the mixing bowl with his hip.

“Move over, hot stuff. Time to let the master work.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “It’s cake mix, it’s pretty hard to fuck it up. You’re not special,” he grumbled. He was grinning though and hopped up on the counter, kicking his legs against the cupboards beneath him while Rhodey mixed and then poured out the batter.

With the muffin tins safely in the oven Rhodey stepped back over, giving Tony a kick of his own before he lost his security deposit. “Knock it off,” he told him, unfastening the beaters from the mixer and extending one to Tony. “Want one?”

“Fuck yeah!” Tony beamed, making grabby hands. “Pass it over, honeybear.”

Rhodey did as requested, stepping closer so the batter didn’t drip on the floor, and Tony took it with a contented little noise. Rhodey laughed at him, and then almost immediately forgot about his own beater as Tony started licking at the chocolate, head tilting to get just the right angle, tongue wiggling between the metal spokes. Rhodey had not thought this through.

He didn’t know if he’d made a noise or what, but then Tony’s eyes flicked up to meet his. He lowered the beater slowly, eyes locked with Rhodey’s. Without quite meaning to, Rhodey took a step closer, heard Tony’s soft inhale in response, his tongue running self consciously over his lower lip. There was a fleck of chocolate there, and it took everything Rhodey had not to lick it off for him. He wanted to kiss him so badly, but something inside him stopped. He needed Tony to be the one to make that final move, needed to know that they were on the same page here, that Tony wanted this too, wasn’t just playing along with the world’s worst joke.

And for a minute he thought Tony actually might. His lips parted on a soft exhale, upper body leaning in that much closer, this look on his face, like he wanted to just as bad as Rhodey. And he may have been the dumbest genius Rhodey had ever met, but he wasn’t this dumb. He had to know what was going on, that this was real.

But then, abruptly, he was tilting his head away, sliding off the counter to pull back entirely and head across the kitchen.

“I, um… I should go,” he said, not quite meeting Rhodey’s eyes. “Early day tomorrow.”

Rhodey arched an eyebrow at him, felt his heart sink. “The cupcakes aren’t even done! I thought you wanted cupcakes?”

Tony gave him a pained smile. “Maybe next time,” he said, grabbing his suit jacket. “See you later.”

He was gone a second later and Rhodey sighed, then thumped his head against the counter for good measure. Clearly, impossibly (although nothing was impossible when it came to Tony, he should have known that by now) Tony had missed every sign that Rhodey was serious about this. Which left the one thing he should have just done in the first place.

Using his words.

***

Rhodey was more than familiar with Tony’s tendency to dwell, so first thing the next morning he headed over to his place. It was early enough that the sun was barely up, fog rolling over the water below the house, but he wasn’t surprised when JARVIS directed him down to the workshop.

Tony had clearly been working all night, his jacket abandoned just inside the door, and Rhodey winced as he stopped beside it, waiting for Tony to acknowledge him. His back was to the door, but he clearly knew Rhodey was there, body tense as he hammered away at something on the work table. He’d changed into sweatpants, but was still wearing his dress shirt from the night before, untucked and sleeves rolled up with a large grease stain above his right elbow.

When a good thirty seconds had passed and Tony still hadn’t said anything, Rhodey sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face. “Look man, I’m sorry. I thought… Well, I wasn’t thinking, obviously. But I’ll knock it off. I was never trying to make you uncomfortable, Tones, I promise.”

Tony cursed under his breath as he missed, hammering the table instead, but then he put the hammer down, finally turning to face Rhodey. He looked absolutely destroyed, dark bags under his eyes, but he offered Rhodey a wan smile.

“Well.” He shrugged one shoulder. “We can’t split up now. The bots have accepted you as their mother. U will be devastated.”

He was playing it off as a joke, but Rhodey knew Tony. He could see the fear in his eyes, the worry that he might lose Rhodey completely, but even more than that, a bit of hope in his smile. Drawing in a deep breath, Rhodey crossed the room.

“Okay, no more faking it,” he told him. “I like you, Tony. I mean, you’re my best friend in the entire world, but also, I like you.”

Tony snorted at that, but he ducked his head and when he looked up at Rhodey again his smile was shy and pleased. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Rhodey confirmed. “A lot. I kinda think about it all the time.”

Tony was flat out beaming now. “So all the cuddling, and the hand holding, and the ‘practicing’?”

“It was practice. It was… Practice for what I really wanted. And I probably should have said something when I first realized, but I’m saying it now. I really like you, Tony, and I want to be with you, and I don’t think I’m crazy in thinking that you might feel kind of the same--,”

Tony shook his head quickly, eyes wide. “No. No, I do.”

Rhodey grinned. “Great. And I think we could really be something great. So, you know…” He took Tony’s hands in his, meeting his eyes so there could be no confusion. “Tony, go out with me, so we don’t have to break up.”

Tony burst out laughing at that, bright and open and happy and Rhodey couldn’t help laughing with him. “Yeah,” he agreed after a minute, hand squeezing over Rhodey’s. “Yeah, that sounds pretty perfect.”

“Great,” Rhodey agreed. And then, because he’d been waiting for what felt like years, he used his grip on Tony’s hand to tug him in close, until they were pressed chest to chest. Tony yelped at the sudden movement, staring up at him with wide eyes, and while he was still caught off guard Rhodey leaned in, pressing their lips together. Tony made a startled noise, like somehow after all these he still hadn’t expected kissing. But it only took him a second to recover and then he was kissing Rhodey back, hands wrapping tight around Rhodey’s back as he parted his lips, tongues sliding together.

They kissed until Rhodey thought he might actually pass out and pulled back, panting for air. Tony leaned back against the table and blinked up at him, a dazed smile on his face. “Wow,” he breathed. “That was… Wow.” He grinned wide when Rhodey just snorted at him and settled his hands on Rhodey’s hips, holding him close. “Hey, you know what I think we should do?”

“What’s that?”

Tony’s grin grew impossibly wider. “Practice.”

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