#& the Opinions i have about the idea of pheromones but if this ever gets done and anyone wants it i will happily make a director’s cut

[crossbackpoke-check]

For Omega Yamo can you please have him be an Oiler still? Because I miss him and we haven’t even played a game without him yet. Also I’m already emotionally invested in Nuge being the Alpha in the heat situation you had come up with in tags on the shower post 🩷

dear nonnie: you and i are in the same boat here 💕

[destiniesfic]

132 Hours, Chapter 7:

That’s what I think I fear most. Not the symptoms, but being out of control. My brain taking a backseat and letting my body drive.

Previous

Read chapter 7 on AO3, or read below:

“Seriously?” Cardan asks, holding up the local newspaper the Roach handed him. “We’re too cheap for the New York Times?”

“They were out,” the Roach grunts.

“This house is a nightmare,” Cardan says under his breath.

We’ve been brought out of our cell again to pose for a proof of life photo. Seated, because I can’t stand for long. Cardan is given the newspaper to prove the photo is current, although the Bomb is holding an old-fashioned Polaroid camera and I am not sure anyone will be able to make out the details. I have been asked to do nothing but sit still.

“Do you want us to smile?” Cardan asks, once the Bomb has the camera ready.

“If you want,” says the Bomb. “Go ahead.”

Cardan does. I glare daggers.

“Well, he’ll know it’s her,” the Bomb remarks. With a gloved, almost dainty hand, she pulls the Polaroid out and sets it on top of the minifridge to develop.

“Why did you smile?” I hiss.

Cardan shrugs. “Just because we’re hostages doesn’t mean we have to look like we’re having a bad time.”

“That’s exactly what it means.”

“Couple more,” says the Bomb, raising her camera again. “Bear with me.”

We do, as she snaps a couple more photos, presumably ones where I don’t look so much like I’m about to strangle Cardan. She takes the best ones and slides them into an envelope, which she seals shut with a little water on her gloved finger. No fingerprints, no saliva, no DNA. Just proof of life.

Cardan notices, too. “You’re pretty good at this crime thing,” he tells her. “Ever think about doing it for a living?”

“It’s really just a hobby for now,” she says dryly, handing the envelope to the Ghost, who heads up the stairs and out to deliver it who-knows-where.

“Looks like a full-blown side-gig to me,” Cardan returns.

The Bomb shrugs. “Well, this economy.”

I wonder if I should be alarmed or encouraged that our captors are beginning to genuinely like him.

It’s already late, after a long, mostly-silent stretch of afternoon in the cell, so we are fed and watered and allowed to relieve ourselves once more before we’re put away again. The Roach offers to help me walk, but I manage to make my way around the basement and eventually hobble to the mattress without assistance. It’s not dignified, but at least I maintain a scrap of my dignity.

Before the Roach is able to lock us in for the night, though, Cardan catches the door in his hand and leans forward. He’s whispering, but the room is small enough that I can hear him anyway. “Hey, um, so, can I have my drugs back?”

Around Cardan’s shoulders, I see the Roach’s face split into a terrible grin. “Nah,” he says. “But nice try.”

And then he closes the door and leaves us alone.

Cardan rubs a hand over his face and goes to sit in his corner. I am staring at him. “You wanted to get high? Now?”

“I had some O on me when they took us,” he says. “Good quality stuff. Pure. Synthetic, obviously.” He glances at me.

“Sure,” I say. It’s never really sat right with me that people have figured out how to distill some of the compounds in pheromones—O for omega, A for alpha—and that other, richer people now use them as party drugs, but, hey, at least it’s hard to overdose. And synthetic means the chemicals weren’t harvested from anybody, so, ethically sourced high. In theory.

I’ve never tried A, but it wouldn’t surprise me if Taryn has by now. Locke is not a good influence.

“Actually, I was thinking of trying to dull my receptors, in light of…” He waves a hand. “Well, tomorrow being what it is, you…”

“Oh,” I say quietly.

“Nic always said I’d ruin them if I indulged too much.” It’s dark, so I can’t see his facial expression very well, but I make out his silhouette slumping against the wall. “Thought I’d finally take that bet.”

It takes me a second to realize he means Nicasia, his ex-girlfriend. Still his friend, though. I think. It’s weirdly humanizing, the idea that he has a nickname for somebody he likes. It makes him more of a person. “You call her Nic?” I ask. “I’ve never heard anyone call her that before.”

“Well, no. You’re not allowed. It’s a special privilege.”

I snicker but don’t reply, looking down at my hands instead. Tomorrow morning will be three days since I took my last suppressant. Two days since I woke up in this cell, locked in with Cardan. I’m about guaranteed to go into heat, and I don’t know what will happen after that. Whether I’ll have enough presence of mind to care about what will happen. If I will even be myself.

That’s what I think I fear most. Not the symptoms. Not even that I might end up mating with Cardan, of all people. But being out of control. My brain taking a backseat and letting my body drive.

“Jude?” Cardan asks quietly.

I don’t want to talk about it. Not with him. Not now. So I shift to a more comfortable seat against my wall and say nothing.

But he surprises me by asking, “Did you mean what you said before? Do you really blame me for what happened with Valerian?”

“Yes.” But there’s a twinge in my chest as I remember the shock on his face, the way he avoided my eyes the rest of the day. I had struck my mark, but at what cost? As he said, it’s not like he was actually there. I press the heel of my palm into my eye. “No. Maybe. I don’t know, Cardan. You didn’t help.”

“Yeah, but like…” I hear him flick at some dust on the floor. “I didn’t know, you know? I didn’t know what he was going to do. If I had known, I would have stopped him.”

I blink in his direction. “I thought you did know,” I say abruptly, and I don’t quite realize how true that is until I say it aloud. That Cardan, who has historically masterminded so much misery, must be behind this, too.

“What?”

“After Locke…” I pick at one of the scratchy blankets. “I mean, Valerian was first, but then when it turned out Locke was trying to get with me and Taryn, I thought it was some awful competition between the three of you. Who could get in my pants first, or make me most miserable, or…”

“No, no.” Cardan actually has the audacity to look shocked. “Jude, I know that I can be a miserable son of a bitch sometimes, but there are lines.”

“Are there? You never acted like it. You insulted me every chance you got. You pushed me into a fountain.”

He chuckles weakly. “That again?”

“It was cold,” I grumble, crossing my arms. “I was cold all day. And I had to lie to my dad.”

And I don’t add the part that hurt most—that he said he was sick of smelling me and I needed to wash off. I can’t control how I smell to him. In fact, I always resented him for smelling so good to me when we clearly weren’t a match. It’s a little easier to get over since he’s so terrible, but it sucks to know that my body picked someone out who could not be clearer about his lack of reciprocation. A defect in me. Something else I can’t control.

“Well, yeah, but there’s a huge difference between that and rape.” He falls quiet for a second, then says, “I’m glad you defended yourself. I am. And I do admire you for that. That’s all.”

“Then you’re crazy. I don’t think anyone else does, aside from Madoc.” I look down. “It’s not what omegas are supposed to do. Fight back. Fight at all.”

I hear Cardan flick another dustbunny. “You know what Balekin said about it?”

My shoulders tense. I know that word of the whole thing had spread through the school like wildfire, even though the disciplinary meeting we had with the principal was supposed to have been confidential, but there’s a difference between knowing and hearing that Cardan’s older brother, of all people, had an opinion. “What did he say?” I ask slowly, dreading the answer.

“He said, ‘I don’t know what Madoc was thinking, sending those girls to your school.’ Like it was just something that was bound to happen.” I feel a little nauseated, but Cardan continues, “That didn’t sit right with me. I mean, you’d been going to school with alphas for ten years. You had alpha teachers. I mean, we had classes together for six years, and I never thought to—”

“Yeah,” I say quietly. “You’ve been very clear about that.”

“No, but—ugh.” Cardan runs a hand through his hair, frustrated. “I think Valerian was wrong. And Balekin was wrong. And you were right. I’d just never thought about it like that before.”

I sigh. “What do you want, a cookie? For thinking I deserve basic human rights?”

In the darkness, I see him wince. “You don’t pull punches, do you?”

“Not anymore.” I lean forward and run my hands over my bandages. The Ghost had done a good job with them. “I did mean what I said about you making it worse. Maybe you didn’t know what Valerian was going to do. Maybe you didn’t egg him on. But you upheld that hierarchy, you know. Strongest alphas on top, omegas on the bottom. You benefited from it.”

“Well, it’s just the—”

“The way things are. I know.” I exhale. “It’s not how they have to be.”

Cardan is quiet for a while. “Valerian liked to hurt people,” he says at last. “Anyone. Animals, even. It was his main alpha trait, that aggression. ‘Couldn’t be helped,’ according to his, I think, third psychiatrist. I think we all thought if we could direct that, use it for our benefit, point him in a direction like—I don’t know, an arrow…”

“Sounds like you need better friends,” I say. Managing Valerian sounds like trying to leash a rabid dog, and I truly do not envy him that. Hoping the dog will only bite other people is selfish and awful, but also bound to fail.

“I haven’t spoken to him since what he did to you.” His voice is unexpectedly firm. Again, he surprises me. “Tried to do, I mean. I told Nic and Locke to cut him off, too. He’s basically dead to us.”

“Oh.” I squint at him, feeling—I don’t know what I’m feeling. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

“But he was your friend.”

“Well…” Cardan taps his finger on the floor. “Maybe I don’t want a friend like that.”

I sit with that admission for a moment, trying to make it square with what I know of Cardan outside these walls. It’s almost like there are two of him: the awful one wreaking havoc outside, and the one in here, with me, who sounds almost on the verge of apologizing. Who uses his alpha charm for good on our kidnappers. Who reads books. Who almost seems to care.

“Your other friends are also kind of shitty,” I point out. “Didn’t Nicasia cheat on you? With Locke?”

Cardan shrugs. “Nic’s not so bad. Locke cheated on her with you and your sister, so I consider us pretty much even for that. Locke, though…” He sighs. “I wish he’d just admit he has a crush on me and get over it.”

I let out a shocked, choked laugh. “What?”

“What other explanation is there for him making out with pretty much anyone I’ve ever really liked?”

I had known about Nicasia, but it sounds like there are others I don’t know about. Still, must be nice, being Cardan, having that kind of confidence in someone being mean because they like you. “He’s a douchebag?” I suggest.

“Maybe,” Cardan says. “Too easy, though. I want complex, psychological drama, Duarte. I want homoerotic CW drama.”

“It sounds like you want Locke to put his tongue in your mouth.”

“I mean, for the experience, sure. Frankly, I’m a little offended he hasn’t tried.”

My cheeks hurt, and I realize I am smiling. How is he getting inside my guard so easily? Saying a few nice things about admiring my tenacity isn’t enough to negate years of schoolyard warfare. It feels good, though. Maybe even better because the person delivering the compliment is totally unexpected.

“Fine,” I sigh.

“Fine what?”

“You’re clearly angling to get your spot on the mattress back. It’s working.” I lean over as far as I can and pat the empty half. “Come on. Probably the last night you can sleep here.”

“You sure?”

It’s funny how I can now tell he’s raising his eyebrow just from the way he asks the question. It’s not a soft, gentle ask—like he’s worried about spooking me—but a sardonic one. Almost a challenge. So even if he is worried about spooking me, he’s spared my pride. I appreciate that.

This is the most I have actually ever spoken to Cardan Greenbriar. It turns out he’s kind of fun.

I shrug. “Sure. Either we’re going to be keeping our distance and you’ll have to take the floor tomorrow, or we’ll be too busy humping to sleep. Like bunnies. Might as well make the most of it while you can.”

Cardan kicks his shoes off, then sits down next to me on the mattress with a grunt. “I think it’s more like wolves,” he says, grinning. “Or dogs. On account of the—”

“Knot.” I visibly shudder. “I know. Gross.”

His grin widens. “Absolutely disgusting.”

I have to take a breath. This is a very specific heat/rut thing, the knot of it all, and most non-heat sex doesn’t trigger it. It is also one of the things I have looked forward to least about eventual sex-having, eventual partner-having. I had kind of hoped I’d get to practice without it. “But all kinds of sex acts sound gross when you break them down on a technical level,” I say, trying to reassure myself. “So maybe it’s not so bad.”

“Maybe.” Cardan props one of the pillows against the wall and settles down on his back, his arms crossed behind head. A model of comfort, of ease. I wonder how much he is faking. No one could be that cool in our situation.

I am quiet for a moment, looking up at the ceiling as though I can still count the criss-crossing pipes that run along it like country roads. “Does it bother you that you won’t ever have a mate? Not that you won’t mate, just that you probably can’t have a… like a mate mate?”

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Cardan tilt his chin up toward me. “Does it bother you?”

“It’s different for me. You know that.” I don’t lie down next to him just yet, but I do look at him. His shirt’s hitched up a little above his jeans, exposing a line of his flat stomach, the ridge of a hip bone. “Everyone I know is an alpha. I’ll probably end up married to one. I could be…” I trail off. “I don’t even know if I like the idea. Being tied to someone like that.”

“Being knotted to them, you mean?” I give him a little shove, and he laughs, then says, “Marriage is tying yourself to somebody too, you know.”

“I know. But not on a biochemical level.”

They used to call the connection between mates a “soul bond” for how deep it goes, how sensitive it makes you to the other person, their moods, their wants. We know more now about how the actual chemicals at play work, which has demystified a lot of it. There’s still a kind of romance to it anyway, I guess. But mating bonds are really difficult to undo, so how are you supposed to know that the person you bite is the right one? What if you choose wrong? At least with marriage there’s divorce. Like many things, a mating bond is something I’d resigned myself to going without, although it would give me a measure of basic protection I don’t currently have.

“I’ve thought about it,” Cardan admits. “I think everyone expects me to eventually end up with Nic still, even though… y’know, and in that case I could have someone else on the side, maybe. It’s pretty common. Or I could be like your dad and marry an omega anyway.”

I snort. “Yeah, that worked out really well for everyone.”

“You know, with what we learned today, Vivi’s theory—”

“I know,” I say quickly. “I don’t want to think about it.” Because that’s how I deal with these things. I don’t think of them until I have the time and space to handle them, which may be never, and definitely isn’t now. The last thing I need is to lie awake thinking about how Madoc might be involved in all sorts of unsavory things, up to and including arranging my parents’ murder.

Cardan does not seem to be giving this the same consideration. “Do you think Madoc and your mother were mates?”

I shudder. “I don’t want to think about it.”

“Vivi had to happen somehow.”

I slide down the wall to my pillow and make a small keening noise into my hands. “That doesn’t mean they were mates. I think Madoc would have found us a lot sooner if they were.”

“You mean he would have sniffed her out.”

“Yeah.” I frown, slipping briefly into memory. “My parents really loved each other, though. I remember that. They’d smile at each other, they’d kiss before my mom left for work, they—” My throat seems to close, and I swallow.

“Must be nice,” Cardan says under his breath. I’m not sure I’m supposed to hear it.

I look down at my hands. I rarely allow myself the remembrances of my mom’s smile, my dad’s arm looped casually behind her when we watched movies on the couch. They were both omegas. They were happy. “I guess I talked myself out of my point. Mates aren’t the end-all be-all of…”

Either Cardan is oblivious to my musings or he’s trying to spare me from them, because he continues, “I mean, regular sex is pretty fun. The not-heat kind. The not-mate kind.”

“It is?” I ask, trying not to let the question strangle itself in my throat. “So… are you saying you’re good at it? I should know, before—if this is all going to happen.”

His face screws up in thought. “I’d like to think so,” he muses. “T-B-H, it’s hard to get honest feedback when you have this much money. Girls, boys, alphas, omegas, they all tell you what they think you want to hear. Although Nic wouldn’t let me slack off in bed, so yeah, I think I know my way around.”

“Oh, well, good. That’s great.” I sink further down and pull my blanket to my chest, looking up at the ceiling. “If my hormones don’t render me totally incoherent, I’ll give you a rating.”

Cardan cracks another smile. “Out of five stars? Like an Uber?”

“Sure. You know. ‘Smooth ride, good driver.’” I cover my face with my hands. “God.”

“Maybe you won’t have to,” he says. “Maybe it’ll be okay. I mean, sure, we are living out the exact set-up of half the alpha/omega porn I’ve ever watched, but that doesn’t guarantee anything. Remember that movie everyone was buzzing about a couple of years ago, where they got stuck in the elevator but he held off?”

“That was a movie, with actors. Not a documentary.”

“Still, we’re dealing with, what? An elevator-and-a-half, two elevators of space? Could work out in our favor.”

I pull my hands down and look over at him. “Unlikely,” I say. “But sure.”

Cardan studies me, then turns onto his side and reaches out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind my ear. “I’m sorry,” he says, and I am struck dumb, thinking he’s apologizing for everything he’s done to me. But he adds, “Just in case something does happen. I know… I know this isn’t what you want.”

Well, that isn’t nothing. I shrug. With him so close, smelling like he does, looking like he does, I almost think I could do worse. “I mean, it’s not like I’m your first choice.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I see him purse his full lips. “Still, I wanted you to know.”

I turn onto my side to face him directly. “When’s the last time you apologized to anybody?”

“When I wasn’t forced to by an authority figure, you mean?” A little crease forms between his brows. “I honestly don’t remember.”

Definitely not nothing. I don’t feel better, but I could feel worse. “Can you do one thing for me?” I ask, and it comes out a whisper, like I’m a frightened child.

“Yeah,” he says, his voice equally soft, which just makes the whole thing even more horrible. That he’s not being what I thought. That he’s not being cruel.

I swallow, but make myself say it. “Don’t hurt me on purpose.”

Cardan’s lips part. “Oh,” he says. “Oh, Jude.”

I turn over, giving him my back. I don’t want to look at his face anymore. As much as I want to hear him say he is sorry, I don’t want to see him feel sorry for me.

Next

[fannishcodex]

Unpopular Opinion Maybe: Kipo had an Identity Crisis in S1

More and more I honestly get bothered when people are all like “ooh Kipo wasn’t affected by being a mega mute lab experiment due to her parents experimenting on her it’s so refreshing compared to other cartoons LOL” because it’s completely glossing over season 1 where Kipo absolutely freaked out over her body suddenly physically changing and suddenly looking like a mute for no apparent reason. Tad Mulholland gave her a dream that was largely about this, Wolf almost left her over this. Kipo was absolutely affected by this, it absolutely caused an identity/existential crisis for her, it absolutely freaked her out.

Kipo absolutely freaked out when her body started growing fur and exhibiting other extreme physical changes and showed indications she was somehow suddenly changing into a mute for no apparent reason. (This in no way indicates she ever harbored serious anti-mute feelings. This is literally about her body suddenly physically changing for no apparent reason.) So much of Tad Mulholland’s dream reflects her anxiety and yes, angst, about these sudden physical changes. Kipo’s allowed to get upset when her body suddenly starts physically changing and she has no idea why; and it’s happening on top of an already stressful situation where she’s separated from her father and the rest of her people in a world that’s still brand new to her and filled with as many dangers as wonders, etc. Kipo again has angst, or is reasonably upset over the whole thing when Wolf realizes she seems to be part mute and seemingly lied about it, and apparently rejects her for it; Kipo pours out her sadness and frustration and emotional turmoil to Jamack, who comforts her, and of course Jamack couldn’t comfort her if Kipo wasn’t upset or had angst and an identity crisis.

Kipo’s not automatically a cheerful sunflower all the time. She’s largely positive because she makes a concentrated effort to be (for example, Kipo does seem tired and ready to leave Jamack, but she decides to go back for him). Kipo’s an actual character with feelings and should be allowed to experience all emotions, even angst, because she should be allowed to get upset.

The only “refreshing,” actually different thing about this is the order--Kipo freaked out and had an identity crisis and angst when she got signs of an extreme change in her body before she learned the truth behind why this was happening.

I’d argue Kipo’s reaction is more about being so relieved to finally get some kind of answer for why her body’s been physically changing that she doesn’t try to challenge it too much, and that she’s also in denial about the gravity of the situation when she gets the revelation about what her parents did to her, and she also ends up pressured by time crunch/emergencies and just pushes her actual feelings over this aside because there’s no time. Kipo learns what her parents did to her, and then has a like a week to save her dad and her people before Scarlemagne’s coronation. Kipo really doesn’t have time to fully process the revelation; she has to focus more on using her mega mute jaguar powers for the practical use of saving her father and people, not actually take the time to really consider how she really feels about them and what her parents did to her.

And even when she’s just focused on practically using her mega mute jaguar powers, Kipo is in fact stressing and angsting over it. She may say she’s fine and express enthusiasm for her mega mute jaguar abilities and act impressed with what her parents did, but her mega mute jaguar abilities do adversely affect her whether she directly admits it or not. In the Deatherstalker episode, Kipo does show signs of the emotional pressure her mega mute status has put on her; with these mega mute powers, she has the power to help her dad and her people, so she keenly feels she has to, she feels responsible for this and probably feels that there’s no one else she can really turn to fully take this burden (of course she loves her dad and people and wants to protect them, and of course this is an all ages show with a number of kid protagonists, but still, she just turned 13, and lived a pretty normal, safe Burrow life until her home was attacked), and she stresses over suddenly being asked to successfully do a thing she’s never done before; Kipo gets super freaked out when her mega mute powers accidentally hurt Benson; and of course the Chevre Sisters have warned Kipo that she can lose her mind if she fully transforms, and much of the season is devoted to making sure that doesn’t happen. And later Kipo gets a concrete example of that threat when she learns her mother has been entirely absent in her life because she’s lost her mind to a mega mute transformation for 13 years and was also under Emilia’s control. (And while this probably needs its own post, to sum up: a lot of this is also again Song and Lio’s fault because of their experimenting, Song exposed herself to mutation, Emilia’s the worst but it doesn’t seem like she would weaponize Song if Song didn’t turn herself into a mega mute monkey susceptible to puppet pheromones torturously taken from Hugo.)

While it’s nice feeling like you’re seeing something new and refreshing, I feel like sometimes people fall into overly reactionary trends and don’t look at things on an individual basis or think of characters as their own individuals. Maybe people want to think it’s refreshing that Kipo’s not affected or not having angst over being a mute lab experiment due to her parents (but again, she has been affected by this) because they’re comparing this to other cartoons, but what about Kipo as a character herself and the show as its own story?

I also actually think the idea of Kipo getting upset over this makes more sense than many other cartoons and has much more impact, because her situation is actually really severe when you think about what the story’s done so far in terms of events.

I’ll probably do another separate “unpopular opinion” post on this, but to sum up: Lio and Song unnecessarily experimented on baby Kipo without her consent and pushed their own ambitions of “making the surface safe for humans” on her, also without her consent. It was canonically a dangerous experiment because they failed to realize Kipo could’ve lost her mind and been stuck as a mega mute, something that did happen to Song for 13 years; Song was accidentally mutated, and again the side effects were gravely underestimated because Song had a dramatic transformation where she not only lost her mind but destroyed the DNA Burrow, and Kipo could’ve been killed in that accidental rampage (and Hugo/Scarlemagne was literally scarred from it, he suffered literal physical damage from it--which also implies worse than injuries and physical scars could’ve happened).

I’ve read some people essentially say “well, not every cartoon has to get this emotional, it could just be cheerful,” and that just makes me think 1) then a cartoon should be written so that the more 24/7 cheerful tone fits, and 2) there are several cartoons you can already watch that don’t get so emotional. Just deal with the cartoons that do choose to be emotional, because cartoons can have a wide variety. 

And I don’t think KATAOW is the place to pull “oh haha she’s not affected by all this even though it’s super messed up because let’s be just different from others and not think about our own story and cast we’ve just gotta go against an apparent so-called trend without laying down the groundwork to actually support that reactionary rejection of an apparent so-called trend.”

And I do really hope and still think that on some level the show is actually gonna pull through and address this and do something really neat. Because while Kipo acts like she’s fine with what her parents did to her, again there was her severe freak-out in season 1 when faced with actual consequences of what they did and with no one to give her any explanation for what the hell was happening, and there are her struggles with her experimental mega mute jaguar side in season 2; and just as importantly, Wolf and Benson seem alarmed by what Lio and Song did. I think that’s critical. Even if Wolf and Benson aren’t explicit about it, it’s pretty clear that they look uncomfortable with what they learn from the Project Kipo notebook, even if they’re more focused on going along with Kipo’s cheer. I just feel like that will be followed up in season 3.

And it’s a 3-season show. Writers have said that they have told a complete story with the show over 3 seasons. I can imagine that in season 3 they’ll follow up on this in some way and better challenge what Lio and Song did and let Kipo finally freak out over what her parents did, as much as she freaked out by herself in season 1.

Because that also gets to me. As things stand now, Lio and Song have avoided the worst of the direct emotional fallout of what they did to Kipo. They did not get to see their daughter have a gradual meltdown over the sudden changes in her body, her confusion and emotional turmoil and fear that her friend-sister Wolf rejected her over the whole thing. Kipo’s only ever acted like “it’s fine” to them about it. And I find that really unfair, especially to Kipo. She should get to be upset, she should get to be upset with her parents and make them better realize the consequences of what they actually did to her. Lio and Song should also just deal with even more consequences. 

P.S. I also don’t really buy the half mute/half human as mixed race metaphor because it’s too deeply rooted in scientific experimentation on babies without any possible consent (and Kipo is already actually mixed race with a Black father and a Korean mother), and I have more thoughts on what it’s more about and its potential as a more unique story that’s specifically tied to the world of KATAOW, but I think that’s another post too.

[solastia]

Say You Won’t Let Go | 1

Pairing: Namjoon x Jimin x Jin

Word Count: 3,708

Genre & Warnings: A/B/O Dynamics. Stillbirth. Poly relationship. Angst, fluff. Only hinted smut in this chapter. Might get more graphic in future chapters, I haven’t decided yet ;)

Notes: Ayyy, my first abo. I’ve always been curious about writing this au, but was almost too embarrassed to. But fuck it, I do what I want. I hope you guys enjoy. This will be angsty for a bit before we get to the fluff (Which there will be! Namjoon is a sweetie pie!) 

Jimin’s eyes felt too heavy to open them, so he gave up. He inhaled lightly, discovering he was surrounded by the scent of dried herbs and some potion bubbling away near the fire, the familiar smells of the dwelling for the pack’s healer. Jimin’s mind was still too cloudy for him to remember why he would be here.

He tried to sit up, but his body wasn’t cooperating. He felt stiff and sore, the muscles in his abdomen contracting painfully when he decided to move. A low voice made a calming sound, pushing his shoulder down completely.

“You’re finally awake, I see. Don’t jostle around too much. Your stitches are still fresh, and you’ll be groggy because of the potion I used to put you under. Once your head is a little more clear we’ll get you to try walking. It will reduce your pain in the long run if you get up and moving soon.”

Jimin swallowed thickly trying to get his dry throat to work and managed to open his eyes just enough to peek through. “Healer Lily, why am I here?”

“Oh, Jimin.” She sighed, sadness rife in her voice. “I’m...afraid you lost the pup.”

No. Jimin thought. It can’t be. He’d made it so long this time. Five whole months.

“But...we...you said it should be safe past the fifth month. I didn’t even do anything. I was bed bound this whole time. What did I do wrong?” Jimin sniffled, not having the strength yet to even yell like he wanted to.

“You did nothing wrong, little omega. We all did everything we could. You took all the herbs I told you to, stayed in bed, ate well. There is nothing more you could have done.” Healer Lily explained softly. Jimin felt her blessedly cool hands stroke his damp bangs away from his forehead, trying to soothe him. He couldn’t be eased that easily. 

“There’s more, Jimin. We nearly lost you this time. You waited too long to tell anyone you were having problems and nearly died. I had to put you under and clean you out internally and pack you with herbs to kill the infection. I took the chance to look around while I had you open. You’re so scarred inside that it will be a miracle if you ever get pregnant again, let alone carry to term. It’s my opinion as a healer that you should stop trying, Jimin. Next time I might not be able to save you.” The ancient healer’s voice trembled with emotion, her grief releasing a bitter scent that Jimin could taste on his tongue.

Healer Lily had been there for his own birth and now had helped him through three miscarriages. He didn’t doubt the sincerity of her sympathy. He lightly squeezed her other hand that she had threaded through his once he gained more alertness.

He had Healer Lily help him scoot up just a little bit as his strength slowly returned and his mind cleared. He now remembered how he got here. The shooting pains he had been having for a few days followed by his mate’s panicked yelling as he found Jimin laying in blood. After that, it was a blur, but he assumed Namjoon had brought him here.

“The baby…” Jimin said softly, and Healer Lily gazed at him in pity.

“You want to know what it was?” She asked.

Jimin nodded and held his breath, knowing the answer was going to hurt.

“It was a boy.” Jimin exhaled loudly, nodding in acknowledgment as the tears finally filled his eyes. A boy, just like they’d wanted. An heir for their pack.

“Can I see him?” Jimin mumbled softly as he stared at his hands.

“He’s not...fully formed. I kept him wrapped up for you though, so you could...put him to rest. Are you sure you want to see?” Healer Lily asked as she stood up and walked over to a bundle covered with a yellow blanket. Jimin recognized it as the blanket he’d knit for the baby when he’d found out he was pregnant again.

Jimin reached his arms out. “Please. I just want to hold my baby at least once.”

Healer Lily nodded sorrowfully and gently picked up the bundle, placing it into Jimin’s waiting arms. He tucked the blanket off to the side and stared at his son. He was so tiny, probably not weighing much over a pound, and had thin nearly transparent skin. He understood what the healer meant when she said he wasn’t entirely formed. He looked like a little alien he’d seen in one of Namjoon’s precious books. A delicate little alien with ten fingers, ten toes, Jimin’s mouth, Namjoon’s chin, and the promise of a head of black hair. Just last week this tiny little creature had started fluttering around in Jimin, and he’d been so excited to share the news with Namjoon. He traced his finger down the small nose, memorizing the features of the only child he’d ever have, amazed that the baby still smells slightly of Jimin’s own warm vanilla scent and a hint of earth that was it's own.

The door to the healer’s dwelling opened, and the room was filled with the scent of his alpha, the cinnamon unusually heavy due to his turbulent emotions. He glances around, relief filling his face once he sees that Jimin is finally awake, then sorrow as he takes in the scene in front of him.

“Jimin? Baby, how do you feel?” Namjoon asked as he pulled up a stool next to his bed. 

“I don’t know. Kinda feeling everything right now.” Jimin answered softly, leaning into Namjoon’s hand as he reached out to caress his face. 

“I took a look at our son earlier. He has your pinkie.” Namjoon’s huff of laughter makes Jimin smile slightly and take one last look at his son before wrapping him back up and handing him to the waiting healer. 

“Did you have a name picked for him, Jimin? I’ll put him in the records for you.” Healer Lily asked. 

“Min Seon. Kim Min Seon.” Jimin responded softly. Namjoon smiled tenderly at the choice. It was in their top three names to use. It meant intelligent and kind.

Healer Lily nodded in acknowledgment, picking up the bundle and leaving the dwelling. Jimin finally allowed himself to give in to the overwhelming torrent of despair that he’d been fighting off. He cradled his face in his hands, sobbing his heart out. His mate tried to help him, tried to release calming pheromones and scenting his neck, while his own tears fell onto Jimin’s shoulders. 

“Take me home, please.” Jimin pleaded with a choked sob. Namjoon gathered him gently and carried him bridal style from the site of so much pain. 

***

“Joon?” Jimin woke up in the middle of the night almost a week after the horrible ordeal, desperate to wake his alpha. 

Namjoon hummed in acknowledgment and tightened his hold on the omega, rubbing his chin into Jimin’s hair. 

“ S’matter, baby?” He mumbled with his voice still thick and low from sleep. 

“I just had a thought. I’m never going to give you a baby. And you’re the pack Alpha. You have to have an heir, or someone will challenge you for your position. One that your family has held for countless generations.” Jimin explained to the slowly waking Namjoon. He could tell by the gradually tightening jaw that the implications of their situation were finally sinking in. 

“There’s nothing we can do about it, Jimin. If it comes down to it, I’m sure I can pass it to some cousin or something.” Jimin could tell that Namjoon was trying to convince even himself that everything was going to be okay. But it wasn’t. 

“What if I told you there was something we could do? Something that hasn’t been done in our pack for quite a few generations?” 

Namjoon turned his head down to look at Jimin curiously. “Like what? You want to raid someone’s pack for pups or something?” 

Jimin snorted, although the idea sounded more tempting than the one he was about to propose. 

“No. Joonie, you’ll have to take a second omega. One that can give you the pups that I can’t.” Jimin whispered, hating the words coming out of his own mouth. 

“Absolutely not,” Namjoon growled clutched Jimin closer. “Baby, we’ll figure something out, okay? We don’t need to go to such extremes. I don’t want anyone else but my mate.” 

Jimin preened hearing his Alpha’s possessiveness over him, but he knew this was the only way. It was time to prove he held the position of Pack Omega for a reason. 

“Namjoon. Look at me.” He ordered quietly, the Alpha meeting his eyes reluctantly. “It’s not just about us. This is about the good of the entire pack. What’s good for them right now is an assured succession, so no one comes to challenge you and threaten their safety. Not all Alpha’s are as good and caring as you or take care of their people as well. Our pack thrives under your family's care. Soon enough, word will spread that I’ve been unable to provide you an heir and Alpha’s will start believing it’s their chance to take us down, something they’ve been trying for generations.” Jimin stroked Namjoon’s face as he explained something he knew that his Alpha was already aware of, even if he didn’t want to acknowledge it right now. 

“Jimin...I don’t want to. I just want you. And won’t this hurt you?” Namjoon was practically whining, his grip on Jimin bordering on painful as if he thought the omega was going to disappear. 

“I won’t lie, it will. So much. It will hurt more though when the pack begins blaming me when we get raided, and our people are being killed or stolen.” Jimin leans up and kisses Namjoon softly. 

“I hate this, and I’m sorry we have to go through this because of me. I love you, and I’ll always stay by your side. But this has to happen. You need to go to the council tomorrow and tell them to find you a second omega. If I have to ask that will be more painful for me.” 

Namjoon sighed and maneuvered himself until he was looming over the omega. “I’ll do this because you asked me to and because technically it is the wisest course of action. I don’t like it. I’ll talk to the council tomorrow, but if you want me to call it off at any time, I will.” Namjoon stared into Jimin’s eyes, making sure the omega understood. 

Jimin pulled the Alpha down closer to his face, nuzzling his nose with his. “Okay. I’ll still be your favorite though, right?” 

Namjoon chuckled as the omega’s sweet vanilla scent thickened in the air. Jimin smirked coyly up at him, and Namjoon dropped his weight a little more on top of the omega so he could kiss and nibble the mating scar he’d left on Jimin’s neck three years ago. 

“My favorite pretty omega. My best friend, my mate. You’ve been my favorite since we were pups, I don’t see that ever changing. I love you.” Namjoon murmured against Jimin’s neck. 

“I love you too, my Alpha,” Jimin responded sweetly as he gave into his mate’s insistent grinding and let him prove it to him without words. 

***

Life went on as usual for about three months with no word from the council of elders, although they were looking. Jimin just went about his daily routines of hanging out with his beta friend Taehyung, helping around the pack, holding council as the first omega, and generally just letting himself heal. He occasionally lets himself hope that there wouldn’t be an omega mate good enough for their pack Alpha to be found. 

After all, the Red Mountain Pack was legendary. They were so named due to their proximity to the vast Red Mountains that many called unpassable and provided them with protection. Their pack Alpha was intelligent and strong, coming from a line of authority hundreds of years long. Their people were happy and thriving in a territory that was filled with plenty of land, rivers, and game. The few times that other packs had tried to raid them in generations past all failed thanks to the strength of their leadership. In other words, whatever omega the council found had to be exceptional. 

When Namjoon came into their dwelling frowning and staring at Jimin glumly, he knew that his hopes were dashed. 

“They found someone, didn’t they?” Jimin whispered as Namjoon crouched in front of him and grabbed both of his hands in his, rubbing his thumbs across the back of them.

“They did. The Alpha of the Kanut pack to the east has three children. Two are already spoken for, but he has a male omega that is just a bit older than both of us. Seokjin. He’s a son of a pack leader, so the council already loved him enough for that, but they sent a scout and claim he’s perfect for us because of his personality and looks as well. They explained the situation and apparently he’s agreed to come. He’s happy about being picked for our pack, even if he is second omega. He didn’t think he’d get any more offers due to his age.” 

Jimin nodded as he listened. Of course they would find the perfect omega that just happened to be born to a pack Alpha. 

“When is he going to be here?” Jimin forced himself to ask. 

“As soon as you give the word, I’ll either tell Yoongi to go escort him here, or to cancel everything. If you want this stopped, just say the word.” Namjoon was gazing into Jimin’s eyes pleadingly, and the omega was pleased that his Alpha desperately didn’t want to do this. But Jimin didn’t want Namjoon to blame him and hate him years from now when their pack goes up in flames. 

“Let Yoongi go fetch the omega. Make sure you send Jungkook with him so he won’t complain so much. He’s happier when he has a lackey there to do his bidding.” Jimin said, smiling as though all was right with the world. Namjoon sighed and nodded, leaving the dwelling reluctantly to pass on the orders to his second in command. 

***

The beautiful sunset lent a romantic glow to the whole mating ceremony that Jimin resented, but not as much as he did the appearance of the Kanut omega. 

Kim Seokjin, already conveniently having the same last name as Namjoon, arrived with his entourage of escorts that would all leave in the morning after the ceremony. He was stunning. Tall and broad with big pouty lips rivaling Jimin’s own that seemed to always be on the edge of amusement. Big dark eyes and smooth skin. Jimin observed his pack openly admiring the beautiful omega, everyone incredibly pleased with the choice for their Alpha. 

Jimin wanted to give into his omega urges that were telling him to warn the other omega off from his Alpha. He wanted to scratch and claw at the other’s beautiful face. He watched as Seokjin reached where Namjoon was standing, a council elder ready to start the ceremony. The omega grinned sweetly at Namjoon, who merely nodded. The alpha searched the crowd and Jimin knew he was looking for him. He stayed hidden, not wanting to tempt either of them into stopping the ceremony. 

As the ceremony drew closer to the end, Jimin’s scent grew sharp and bitter, the thick pheromones signaling distress becoming so evident that the people around him were starting to notice and glance at him in sympathy. They all loved Jimin and knew how much he loved his Alpha. 

***

According to their mothers, Namjoon and Jimin had been the best of friends from the moment they could walk. When Jimin was ten, however, he’d decided he loved his clumsy friend and wanted to be his mate the way his parents were. When he’d explained this to his friend, Namjoon had laughed. 

“You know that’s not how it works, right? You find your mate when you imprint on each other, or if you’re soul mates. Besides, we don’t even know what we’re going to present as.” 

“Well, what if we already imprinted and that’s why we are as close as we are?”

“What do you mean?

“I hear the elders. They always talk about how odd it is for us to act like a bonded couple at such a young age. I don’t know what that means, but maybe we imprinted when we were babies! How would we know? We were two.” 

Namjoon’s eyes widened in thought. “You may be right.” 

“Of course I’m right. So when you present as an Alpha, I’ll present as an omega and we can be mates. You and me forever, kay?”

Namjoon smiled fondly at his friend, having learned years ago that it was pointless to try to talk the boy out of anything. “Okay, Jiminie. You and me forever.” 

Over the years, Jimin and Namjoon grew to love each other more each day, until they neared adulthood and were sure that their love was the real thing. Namjoon grew tall and strong, and Jimin was proud to be at his side. They even had their own little pack of friends now. Betas Taehyung and Yoongi, and Jungkook who was suspected to present as an Alpha. 

As luck would have it, they both presented at eighteen. Namjoon as an Alpha, to the joy of the entire pack. And Jimin as an omega a few months later. He and Namjoon liked to joke that mother nature herself knew not to go against the will of Jimin. They were also more than sure that they were soulmates and wanted to mate as soon as possible.

However, Namjoon had to shadow his father for a couple years since the man wanted to hand the reigns over to Namjoon right away. He asked Namjoon to hold off on mating until he was twenty so he could focus on the pack first and foremost. Namjoon had agreed, but that didn’t stop him from sneaking kisses from Jimin during their walks along the river. 

Jimin had his share of dumb Alphas showing up and trying to court him or watching as silly betas and omegas thought they had a chance with the pack Alpha. He had piles of courting gifts that he barely glanced at. 

Until one day he walked out of his parent's dwelling and found a necklace with a beautiful stone attached. He only knew of one wolf that collected pretty stones. 

With a huge smile, he ran to Namjoon’s dwelling and threw himself across his lap. 

“Yes.” Jimin giggled at the surprised Alpha. 

“Jiminie, I didn’t even ask you yet. And there’s still more courting gifts.” Namjoon grinned, holding the omega closer and inhaling against his neck. 

“I don’t care. You’ve always known it’s a yes. You and me forever.” Jimin cooed, leaning in to properly kiss his future mate. 

They’d had their own ceremony just a month after that since Namjoon had wanted to wait until after to claim him and Jimin wanted to pounce on his Alpha as soon as possible. They’d stayed in the dwelling that Namjoon had built for Jimin for a week straight, only coming out when Healer Lily wanted to know if they were still alive.

***

Jimin was brought back to the present when a hand gently grasped his shoulder. He looked up through teary eyes to see Taehyung watching him sadly. Taehyung had been there through it all and knew that Namjoon was Jimin’s entire world. Jimin was grateful for the calming pheromones the beta was trying to use on him as he watched the ceremony come to a close. The elder escorted Seokjin and Namjoon to the entrance of their dwelling. The home that Namjoon had built with his own hands for Jimin. 

Jimin’s choked back a sob as Namjoon stopped at the entrance, letting Seokjin go ahead of him as he scanned the crowd yet again, looking for Jimin. The omega could smell Namjoon’s cinnamon scent so strongly from his hiding place as if Namjoon was trying to summon him, but he fought the pull and stayed where he was. He didn’t want to see any more apologetic gazes or be close enough to hear the love of his life mating someone else.

Jimin watched as Namjoon’s head bowed as he accepted the inevitable and entered the dwelling, closing the door behind him and the new omega.

Jimin let Taehyung lead him away to stay at his parent’s dwelling for the night, and gratefully accepted the comforting cuddles the beta offered as he surrounded the both of them in furs. He would go home tomorrow. But tonight....tonight he wanted to mourn.  

[tisfan]

If You’re Everything You Say You Are

(Would You Come Close and Hold My Heart)**

Title If You're everything You say You are (Would You come close and hold my heart?) Link A03 Square Filled B5 Ship WinterIron Tony x Bucky Rating explicit Major Tags Dom/sub, Alternate Universe, Mildly Dubious Consent, Nature of the D/s Universe, Intercrural Sex, Kneeling, Dom Bucky Barnes, Sub Tony Stark, Drunkenness, Background Pepper/Rhodey, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse

Summary Everyone knows that Tony Stark is a dom. And everyone knows the Winter Soldier is a sub. So why is Tony on his knees? In which what everyone knows is wrong and trust is treasure greater than gold. Word Count 4,288 Created for @mcukinkbingo 

Thanks to @kamaete for “domasses”

For @anythingpastorpresent who gave me the prompt “I     didn’t know you were a dom and when I called you Sir/Ma'am you almost     jumped me” sex   

Drinking was a terrible idea. It had never been a good one, but at Pepper and Rhodey’s wedding, it had seemed like the only one. Watching the only person he’d ever been able to make any sort of relationship work with marry someone else was bad enough, but that it was Rhodey, and he was happy for them -- he really was -- was even worse.

They both knew he was hurting. No one wanted that for him Not Pepper, who was thrilled to find love and stability, didn’t want to hurt Tony. She loved Tony. And not Rhodey, who’d been brother/best friend/surrogate for so long that sometimes Tony forgot that they weren’t actually related at all. Rhodey would have cut off body parts to avoid hurting Tony.

But what they all knew was that there was no way around what had happened.

One person could be hurt, and probably get over it. Or all three of them would be hurting, and probably never get over it. Even at his very-most selfish, Tony couldn’t deny the math.

It was just gonna suck for a while.

Thus, drinking.

Booze didn’t change anything, but it did make all the jagged edges hurt a little less.

That was the theory, at least. He hadn’t quite gotten around to it, yet. The drinking until he couldn’t see; pick up someone who was also drunk and who wouldn’t notice Tony’s secret. Having a not-completely satisfying fuck, but that might hold off the depression for a while. Have Happy drive someone home that he’d never see again. He’d done it most of his life, ever since Howard had filled him in on the Truth of the Matter.

He drained the glass. Pondered throwing it off the side of the balcony. He’d skipped out on the reception as soon as he wouldn’t be missed. Well, Rhodey might miss him, but he wasn’t going to come looking. Not tonight.

Tony had done his bit. Stood at Rhodey’s side for the joining ceremony.

“That was generous of you,” a deep, rumbling voice came from behind him.

“What was?” Tony wasn’t drunk enough to go with Bucky; he’d need a lot more booze before he was willing to force himself to act the part. But oh, sometimes he wanted to. Bucky was a beautiful man. Luminous.

“Back in my day,” Bucky said, “two men like you and Rhodes, you would have fought over someone like Pepper. Didn’t matter that you were all but brothers.”

Tony scoffed. Checked his glass. Still empty. Boo.

(more below the cut)

“She loves him,” Tony said. “I’m supposed to, what? Fight Rhodey for a woman that’s never going to love me?” It wasn’t like Pepper could bond with him, anyway. Even if she hadn’t found her true match with Rhodey, they’d have gone through their lives together, incomplete. Tony scowled at his empty glass, gave in to temptation and threw it, hard as he could, off into the garden where it smashed against one of the cement walkways.

“You should go clean that up,” Bucky said, and despite the mild tone, it did not come out sounding like a suggestion.

Tony glared at him suspiciously. “Yes, sir,” Tony snapped, and that came out sarcastic, but also… wanting.

Even in the dim light, Tony watched Bucky’s eyes widen, his pupils go round and dark. The fucking hell? The Winter Soldier was a sub. Tony knew that. Everyone knew that.

And almost no one knew that Tony was a sub. He’d been on black-market drop-suppressants for decades. He even had a special blend of cologne that masked most pheromones, including his own.

“What did you say?” And Bucky was crowding into Tony’s personal space, forcing him back, forcing a retreat. Tony was shivering even before his back hit the wall, because damn, it’d been such a long, long time, and he was just a little bit drunk, and he was caught unaware by Bucky’s powerful Dominating presence that--

Tony went to his knees.

Slow and easy and as graceful as if he did it every night. His gaze dropped to the floor, hands went to the small of his back, and if Bucky didn’t back off right that instant, Tony was going to be groveling, because he hadn’t felt a Dom’s command in so long, he’d almost forgotten it.

No one tried to Dom him; everyone knew Tony Stark was a Dom. And that just wasn’t something you did in public anymore, unless you wanted to be arrested. (Mostly. There was still a hard push back movement from the Dom-ass contingent, who were of the opinion that all a sub wanted was to be dominated, and they were only doing what biologically came naturally by ignoring consent.)

“Oh, my god,” Bucky said, “look at you. Good, oh, that’s so good, baby.”

“No,” Tony managed to snarl, between clenched teeth. “No, back off, back--” He wasn’t going to submit, not again, no. Not--

“Hey.” Bucky’s hand, cupped under his chin. “Hey, baby, can you look at me, come on, it’s all right, come on… there you are. Tony. Tony, what’s wrong?”

God, that voice… it was like quicksilver down Tony’s spine, keeping him supplicant on the ground. All he ever wanted, needed, swirling in his stomach. Heat that seeped through him, from Bucky’s hand down to Tony’s toes. This was exactly what Howard had warned him about. Jesus, he hadn’t responded to a Dom’s voice…

… since Afghanistan.

“Don’t call me that,” Tony gritted. “I’m not yours. How are you fucking doing that? You’re not a Dom.”

Bucky spluttered, made a protesting noise in his throat. “You’re not a sub,” he whispered. “What the hell, Tony?”

It took everything Tony had left to raise his head and glare. “Well, now you know the truth,” he spat. “What are you gonna do about it?”

He’d be lying to himself if he tried to say he didn’t want Bucky to just tell him what to do. To finally be conquered. To let go.

“Nothin’,” Bucky said. He twisted into a squat and then was down on the ground, sitting cross-legged, on Tony’s level. “Didn’t mean t’... I was bein’ an ass, Tony, that’s all. You just. You looked sad an’ angry, and I thought you might need an argument. So I was--”

“You were domming me to piss me off? Well, congratulations, mission accomplished!” And fuck, he still couldn’t get off his goddamn knees. Bucky was holding him right there, he’d whipped his words right around Tony’s spine. Compelled him, crushed him. Tony fought against it, and it hurt, and it kept hurting, because he knew as soon as he stopped fighting, everything was going to be fine. “Stop it! Let me go, goddammit! You’re a goddamn sub, everyone knows that!”

“Winter Soldier’s a sub,” Bucky said. “I’m not. That’s how they broke me. How they made him. Forced conversion, sublimate the base instincts. Enough pain, enough drugs, enough… force and reward, and anyone will break.”

Didn’t Tony just fucking know it? Ten Rings had offered him subs at first, thinking he was a Dom, but exposed like that, deprived of his suppressants, on limited food and water and crude medical care and exactly zero human decency and privacy, Tony had eventually lost control of his secret, and then they had a dozen Doms in there with him, working him over, until he would have promised anything, would have given anything.

If it hadn’t been for Yinsen, for the arc reactor, and for a glimmer of hope in the form of the Iron Man Mark I, Tony would have given up, given in. As it was, three months of that, and Tony was never going to be all right again.

He didn’t really want to feel sympathy for the man who’d put him on his knees. Tony wanted to know what the fucking consequences were going to be.

Tony was dizzy. Sparkles of color danced in front of his eyes. He swayed, but had no urge to get off his knees, he could just--

“Fuck,” Tony said, and that came out almost as a request, a suggestion, and not a swear. “What-- what’s your rating, I’m…”

“You’re dropping,” Bucky said. “I see that. Tony, before the War, I was a DT-9. I never got tested, after…”

Everyone knew the serum enhanced… everything. Pre-serum Steve had been a DB-2, barely able to control even an excessively submissive sub; afterward, a DB-10, with subs doing violence for the opportunity to stand near Captain America. And Jesus, if Bucky had already been over a nine, no wonder Tony couldn’t resist it.

“How… why…”

Bucky shrugged. “After everything? I can control it. Keep my pheromones down, unless I’m actively prowling. I don’t need a dozen subs hanging on my word. I just… want one. Someone special. Someone I can trust, that’ll be good for me. That I can be good to.” Bucky sighed. “It’s strong enough that I used to knock Steve on his ass from time to time, when we was growing up. Learned I didn’t want that. I don’t… Tony, I don’t want you to submit to me, if that’s not what you want. Please. Please get up.”

And it just had to be Tony’s contrary fucking nature, because as soon as Bucky said to get up, told Tony that he wasn’t wanted… well, Tony didn’t want to go anywhere.

“You’ve already got me down,” Tony said, still spiteful after everything, because Bucky might be a ten, or even one of the rare ones who broke the ten marker, but Tony was also a damn nine, and he was an SB-9 who’d learned to suppress the shit out of his instincts and cycles, and he wasn’t going all the way down without a fight. But he could play to that. He’d done enough pretending to Dom to know. Doms wanted a sub who would fight them, just a little. Just to enough to have to exert their control. “You may as well take it.”

Flashes of images raced through Tony’s mind. He was a strong sub, he needed a strong Dom to handle him. Fantasy became fear. Maintenance spankings and loss of privacy. Being told what to wear and how to act. Providing sexual service to his Dom and knowing he’d have to be good as gold to get any satisfaction of his own. Being told he couldn’t masturbate. Tony was shuddering; whether with need or loathing, he couldn’t even tell anymore.

“The fuck? Tony, Tony, wait,” Bucky said.

“I don’t want to wait,” Tony snarled. “Either get me the rest of the way there, or back the fuck off and--” He could smell his own pheromones now, and they always smelled to him like Howard’s office, stale whiskey and furniture polish and fear. Pathetic and craven and cowardly.

“Oh god…” Bucky leaned forward, nostrils flaring. Tony wanted to press against Bucky’s body, cuddle himself against that heat, lay on the ground in front of his boots and show his belly. Bucky drew back, suddenly, and Tony couldn’t help letting a small, dismayed whine slip out of his throat. He was never, ever going to be good enough. Certainly not for someone who was that--

Jesus fucking Christ, did Tony actually want to behave? To deserve someone like Bucky?

“How long has it been? Since you last went into subspace?”

… Afghanistan… “Eight years,” Tony managed to say. Bucky was no one’s fool; he knew the timeline as well as anyone, knew what that meant, and his eyes widened with horror.

“Before that? With someone you trusted?”

That morning, Tony would have rather ripped his own heart out rather than admit the truth. “Never.” Who the hell was he ever going to trust? Tony knew the consequences of being a sub in a position of power. Doms would have been lining up for the opportunity to bring him to heel; to be able to take what they wanted from him, whenever they wanted. And they wouldn’t have just stopped with Tony’s utter and complete subjugation. They’d have taken his money, his influence, used his genius brain… if he’d had any sanity or self-will by the end of that, it would have been a miracle. Howard was very clear. He’d used Tony’s nature against him a few times, to teach him a lesson. To--

Tony was gagging, choking for air.

“Shhh.” Bucky was holding him and Tony both wanted to, and didn’t want to, and was anyway, clinging to him. “I’ve got you. It’s all right.” Wrapping Tony up in that smell, like motor oil and heated metal and dark soil in the forest, the sweet tang of fallen leaves and a bitter note, like coffee, underneath. “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

Protected.

And when had any ever wanted to protect Tony Stark? He could have wept, if he knew how.

Tony was being carried and he didn’t know where. He didn’t struggle, but he did look up, curious. It was dark, and Bucky was moving quickly, as if he already knew where he was going, and had no fear of running into anyone in the darkness.

“You probably want some privacy,” Bucky said. “Listen, I’ll… I won’t tell anyone, but if anyone saw us…”

Tony shuddered. It would all be over, the grand facade.

“What--”

“I’m not going to do anything you don’t want,” Bucky promised, and he said it with his Dom voice, and it sounded like a promise that meant something. “But I can’t leave you to hit subspace alone. I won’t let that happen.”

Tony was put down, like he was a precious package, on something soft, the fabric under him some sort of microfiber. A sofa? Bucky left him there a moment and Tony heard the sound of a lock being engaged. “Not to keep you in,” Bucky promised, “but to keep everyone else out. Do you want light? Or would you rather not look at me?”

As if not looking at Bucky in any way diminished the aura of authority he put out. It might be easier in the darkness, though. Whatever Bucky was going to do. “Dark,” Tony managed.

“All right. All right,” Bucky said, soothing. “Look, Tony… I don’t want to leave you alone. If all you want is me to sit here, that’s what I’ll do. I want to help. Tell me what you need, an’ what you want, an’ I’ll do whatever I can t’ get you safely into subspace an’ back out again, okay?”

That wasn’t right, that wasn’t right at all. “Aren’t you s’posed to hit me?”

Bucky’s eyebrow went up. “Do you want me to?”

“I’m a sub-nine,” Tony retorted. “You need to push me down.”

“No,” Bucky said, and his voice was full of Command, and his scent was in Tony’s nostrils and Tony didn’t want anything in the world aside from to please his Dom. “I don’t need to push you down, honey. What I’m gonna do is lift you up.”

“Then do it. Sir.” Tony let go of the last bit of his control. He was tired of fighting. Let Bucky have what he wanted, and Tony would clean up the mess when he was done. Just like he always did.

“Tony,” Bucky said, “only if you want. Okay? If you want, then I want you to undress. Kneel down, facing the sofa, okay? An’ I’ll take care of you.”

It felt weird, and wrong, and strange, and frightening -- and also exciting and freeing and tempting -- to have Bucky cajoling him into accepting what had to be accepted. To at least allow Tony the illusion of control, of choice.

But he was Tony Stark, and he could never, ever resist pushing. “What if I say no?’

“Then you said no, Tony,” Bucky said. “And I won’t touch you. I promise.”

That… that was a concept that Tony was going to have to come back to, at length. “And what… what if I said I wanted to fuck you, instead? If I wanted you on your knees?”

Bucky gave a shiver, and even in the dark, Tony could see his eyes widen.

He was going to say no, Tony knew it, he knew it and it shouldn’t hurt that he was lying about trust and about what Tony wanted, but it did and Tony was--

“If that’s what you want,” Bucky said. “If that’s what you need t’ feel safe.”

Tony blinked. A DT-10+ would… there weren’t even words for it. “We’re gonna talk about that,” Tony promised him. “Later. I don’t have lube here. You’ll have to settle for hands and mouth tonight.”

“I can do that,” Bucky said, and his voice dropped into a low growl that sent shivers down Tony’s back. “Take your clothes off, if you want me.”

Tony stripped and by the time he was done putting his clothes in an untidy heap to one side of the sofa, Bucky had likewise gotten naked. And he was a step ahead of Tony, because he’d put one of the sofa cushions on the floor for Tony to kneel on. Like Tony was already a coveted pet, a-- No. Bucky wasn’t doing that, and if Tony was going to have his trust broken once again, he was at least going to extend it in the first place.

He got on his knees, faced the sofa like Bucky told him to.

Obeying… obedience… submission. He bowed his head and damn if that didn’t feel good. Accepting his place.

“Look at you,” Bucky said. “So good, baby. God, you look so good, you’re so sweet for me.” Bucky was touching himself, stroking up that proud, fine cock. Tony shivered. He heard Bucky spit into his palm and if there was one moment that Tony really wanted to run away, it was that one, because spit did not work, he knew it--

“What are--”

Bucky pushed Tony’s knees together, just a little, and slid himself into the hollow between Tony’s legs, rubbing at his thighs, at the bottom of his balls. Wrapped his arm around Tony’s waist and took Tony in hand. “Trust me,” he whispered. “I’ll make you feel good, baby, if you’ll just… be good for me, okay? Can you do that? Do you want that?”

Bucky’s movements were slow, sinuous, a delicious tease against Tony’s dick, and he couldn’t help but respond. A Dom’s scent around him, a Dom’s hands on him, a Dom telling him how good he was, how much Bucky liked him, how sweet, how perfect.

Tony whined in his throat and pushed into Bucky’s touch.

“That’s it. That’s a good boy,” Bucky praised him, and it had been so long since anyone had told him that he was good. Even Pepper, who was a level two switch, had never told Tony that he was good. Mostly she’d scolded him and teased and they’d had fun, but it had never… never been like this.

Bucky rocked against him, the head of his cock teasing, a hot pressure against Tony’s ass. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he promised. “Not gonna force anything. Just let me make you feel good. I want that. I want you to feel good. Show me, show me what you like.” And that Command voice, pleading with him, asking him. It was… heady.

Tony covered Bucky’s hand with his own, showed Bucky how Tony liked to touch himself. And Bucky was a fast damn learner. In moments, Tony was braced against the sofa, arms spread to keep himself still, while Bucky worked him over with one hand, the other one hold fast to Tony’s shoulder, metal fingers pressing out little bruises along his collarbone, a sparkle of pain against what was an overwhelming amount of pleasure.

“Oh, god.” Bucky was bent over him, hot, lean body lightly coated with sweat; they rubbed together as he moved. Tony could feel every inch of him, and it wasn’t enough. “I… can I bite you, please?”

Marks? Oh, fuck, no. Not yet, not-- “Don’t,” Tony told him. Denied him, and Bucky whined in his throat, but he didn’t touch Tony’s back with his teeth, didn’t do anything except the one protesting whimper and then kept moving, his hand on Tony, stroking him out in delicious shivers.  

Tony’s thighs clenched up and Bucky was still fucking through the hollow between his legs, that tight, hot gap.

Being allowed to say no, no to anything, no matter how small, and that Bucky didn’t punish him, didn’t assert his authority, and Tony was flying-- he gasped with the power in it, and all the heat in his body pooled into his balls.

Everything went soft and fuzzy, like being wrapped in a blanket straight out of the dryer. A spill of carbonated water over his skin. Not a sense of sinking down, but of floating up. Not compliant, but accommodating. He didn’t have to fight with this anymore. It was easy. It was… comforting. He found a single, bright spot of serenity, where he would have, could have, given Bucky everything. And knew. Trusted. That Bucky would never take more than he needed.

Tony arched back, cried out.

He came, spilling over Bucky’s hand with a moan, nearly fell into his own come when his arms gave out, but Bucky was holding him up, rocking him through his climax. There was a warm blossom of wetness against his thighs and Bucky was calling his name, praising him, telling him he was so good, that Bucky was so proud of him, and he knew this was hard, he knew it, but Tony had done such a good job, and Bucky was grateful for it. Honored by it.

“I got you,” Bucky was saying, and… he was wiping Tony’s legs clean, using Bucky’s own undershirt to do the job, instead of leaving Tony on his knees in a puddle of come. “You’re so good, baby.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Tony protested, absently pushing at Bucky’s hands.

“Yes, you did,” Bucky said. He put the shirt aside and tipped Tony’s chin up to look at him. “You trusted me, and that’s big. That’s huge Tony, even if you hadn't been through some terrible shit, and you didn’t just watch the woman you love marry someone else. You let me help you, and… I’m happy that you allowed it. Proud, that you let me.”

Bucky hadn’t just… fucked and run, which is what happened with most other Doms that Tony had gone to -- in clubs or bars where he could wear a mask and pretend to be someone else -- or the subs that he’d sometimes make time with, barely able to satisfy them, much less himself. Maybe it was that. Or post-orgasm glow. Or maybe it was just that it was nice to hear someone saying he’d done well, done something right. He didn’t quite want to go back to kneeling at Bucky’s feet, either.

Instead, Tony had an overwhelming urge to curl up against the man and go to sleep. And he thought, maybe he could sleep, longer than forty-minute power nap or the restless up every twenty minutes or so that were his normal habit.

“So, what now?” Tony yawned, and tried not to look at how Bucky was sitting and how easy it would be to just… crawl into his lap and stay there.

“I’m gonna help you get dressed, and walk you up to your hotel room,” Bucky said. “And then I’m going to make sure you have some aspirins and some water. If you still want me to stay, I’ll help you with a shower, an’ tuck you in.”

“I--” Tony waved his hand around, trying to indicate the room and everything that had happened there. “--I mean… us?”

“Is there an us, honey?” That was said so, so gently, like Bucky didn’t want to scare Tony off and not at all like Tony was being mocked, scorned… rejected.

“I don’t know,” Tony said. His bottom lip pushed out, and he knew he was pouting, and he couldn’t help it, because… well, he didn’t know why. He didn’t want Bucky to leave. And it wasn’t like he couldn’t remember trying, really hard, to get him to back up, back off, not an hour ago. None of that seemed to matter anymore. “Stay.”

“I’ll stay the night,” Bucky promised. “But no more messing around until you’re sober, and off this drop. We need to talk. About limits and consent, and what I want from you, and what you expect from me, and that’s not talk we can have tonight.”

Tony scoffed.

“I’m serious,” Bucky said. “I know you’ve been at the hands of some terrible people, and you don’t have any idea what… you don’t know enough about the situation to make an informed decision, honey. And I would be doin’ us both a bad turn if I let you decide anything tonight.”

While he was talking, Bucky helped Tony into his clothes like he was a recalcitrant toddler. Tony didn’t look like the same rich playboy type in his bespoke suit; he looked like he’d been tumbled and that done quite thoroughly, but it covered his bits and pieces, and would get him up to his room without too much attention.

Tony turned his wrist slowly, gazing down at his watch. “It’s tomorrow,” he said, pointing at it.

Bucky made an adorable scowl. “Not until you’ve slept. Come on, honey, be good for me, for just a little longer, yeah?”

“No,” Tony said. “You… should know that. I’m used… used to getting my own way.”

Bucky chuckled, low and wicked in Tony’s ear. “I know.”

World building notes:

People are tested on the strength of their advertising pheromones and sexual preferences: Dom/sub/switch Top/Bottom/switch So, Bucky, as a DT-9 is a dom/top rank 9 (of 10) Steve, pre-serum, was a DB-2, a Dom-bottom, rank 2 Tony's a S/switch-9 Also, pheromone and drop-suppressants are illegal, but Tony is rich and he can get a hold of them.

Pepper is a mid-level switch D2/S5 essentially, so she and Tony were able to make it look like he was a "normal" Dom, but her submissive nature is stronger than her dom and Tony's a REAL BRAT, so they weren't compatible for each other, long term.

**title note: the title is selected from lyrics from Tenth Avenue North, which is a Christian Praise song, but I've often thought that Christian Praise music sounds an awful lot like D/s relationships :D (I'm going to hell. You're all coming with me.)