#I want to climb this man like a tree goddamn

[1toreyouapart]

After years and years of not writing, I’ve sort of started again. Idk. We’ll see where it takes me and how many edits I do to it before it ever gets posted.

[delirious-donna]

Kento finds your journal and vows to return it, but not before he accidentally sneaks a peek… or, the time he read that you wanted to climb him like a tree.

Oh fuck - no! No no no. Please don’t have read it. I’ll do all my weekend chores rather than playing videogames and I’ll even unpack that final box that has been sitting in the spare room if you’ll do me this one solid favour.

pairing: Nanami Kento x female reader

tw: embarrassing situations, teacher Kento and teacher reader, thigh riding, use of pet names (darling and sweetheart), dirty talk, Kento being more forward than usual, rewrite of an old story (it’s better now, promise), brief appearance of Satoru

The notebook caught his eye; magenta in colour, clearly well-thumbed and definitely not meant to be here, in the teacher’s lounge. He rolled his neck against the uncomfortably lumpy couch until the cracking noise of stiff joints popping made him wince.

With a resigned grunt, Kento sat forward and glanced at his watch.

His next class was due to begin in ten minutes and if he were honest, he felt rather unmotivated to inspire the next generation on this particular day, a feeling that was becoming painfully regular. Fixing the knot of his tie, which he had loosened upon entering the lounge, he lamented on how every day seemed to bleed into each other.

It had been so stiflingly long since anything new or of interest had occurred and he was starting to feel drained from the mundane, walking through each day like a zombie. Heaven help him, it was a frighteningly familiar feeling.

On his way towards the door, he picked up the offending notebook that was stuck between the couch cushions and glanced at it curiously. Your name was emblazoned on the front cover, written in glittery silver ink. Nanami passed a finger over the lettering, his lips tilting into a thin smile at how irreverent it appeared.

He knew you were a few years younger than he was, that you had only become a teacher at the start of this academic year after a sudden change in career, and to say you were a little shy would be a gross understatement. Kento could probably count the times you had spoken to him on one hand, and each one had been a rushed experience, as if you couldn’t wait to retreat from his presence–was he really that intimidating?

At that rather depressing thought, he resumed walking, intent on delivering your notebook before arriving at his own classroom to greet his darling little bastards charges for the afternoon lecture.

Of course, things would never be that simple, nor straightforward when you worked alongside Satoru Gojo.

The white-haired whirlwind hurtled into him as soon as he ventured into the hall. A barking laugh bounced off the walls as Gojo clapped him heartily on the back and effectively knocked the notebook from his grasp to flutter to the floor.

“Ah, Nanami-san, just the man I was looking for,” he thundered. “Could you do your bestest friend in the whole world a favour?”

“If you are referring to yourself with that sentiment, Gojo, then the answer is of course, no.”

Satoru pouted, Kento grimaced.

Celestial blue eyes peered over the rim of his round sunglasses whilst Kento bent to retrieve the book that had tumbled out of his hands and was now spread open at his feet. His eyes narrowed on the hastily scrawled text that he couldn’t quite make out, but… that was his name that he was staring at.

He was aware that Satoru was still talking, the man would continue to ramble away to himself forever, but Kento held his hand aloft to cease the incessant drone.

A strange, but not unpleasant heat coursed through his veins, and something he hadn’t felt in the longest time stirred in his chest. The wild thump of his heart drowned out his pesky colleague’s yammering as he was finally able to read the line of text that referred to him. A sentence that you had hastily scrawled and then ringed again and again with a fluffy cloud border.

Why does Nanami-san have to be so goddamn big and sexy? What I wouldn’t give to climb him like a tree…

He was sure that he could feel the warmth spread up his neck, his collar suddenly too tight, and his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed the runny saliva pooling inside his mouth.

It would be a lie to say he hadn’t admired you, although always from afar. He knew he wasn’t the most social of men, a sentiment his annoying friend constantly reminded him of. Added to the fact that Kento had been sure you were terrified of him, and he had no intention of making you feel uncomfortable, he kept his distance and his daydreaming to himself and the privacy of his bedroom and shower.

Only now, did he wonder if that discomfort had been something else entirely…

“Will you do it?” Satoru asked, shaking his arms with his long spindly fingers and offering a wide cocky smile.

“I wasn’t listening, and no. I’m going to be busy,” he replied, brushing his fellow teacher’s hand from his forearms and pushing past him to his classroom.

He could care less for the deflated look that the snowy-haired menace threw over his shoulder, there were more important matters on his mind and a knowing smirk curved his lips. The smirk was mirrored by the very man he gave his back to, and that was just fine in his book.

No longer did he detour to return the notebook. Oh no--he’d deliver it back to you safe and sound once the day was over and everyone else had cleared out.

~

It had been a long day. A tiring one too, and the prospect of spending your precious evening hours behind your desk marking exams and writing assignment commentary was unwelcome.

As if the universe could hear your lament, they sent you a curve ball you could never see coming…

A determined knock shook you from your thoughts. The pen in your hand fell to the desk at the same moment you leaned back in your chair, inviting your unexpected visitor to enter.

Your mouth ran dry as the very man you least expected to be calling in on you, walked inside. Least expected but most wanted, secretly, of course. There was no way you were earning yourself a reputation for flirting with your colleagues, even if he was so painfully handsome it made you chew the insides of your cheeks every time you were in his presence. Not because you were shy, because you were a little, but because you didn’t trust what might come out of your mouth! Best to keep those thoughts inside your head where they were safe.

Kento turned to shut the door, the lock flicking silently into place so as to avoid any embarrassing interruptions, before he bowed his head in greeting.

“Nanami-san, what can I do for you?” you asked, impressed that you had managed to speak without tripping over your words. It was certainly an improvement on previous attempts.

It was near impossible not to admire him as he stood near the back of the class. The collar of his azure dress shirt had been loosened, the tie askew as if he had been pulling at them both with insistent fingers. Fingers that were currently drumming against the taut muscles of his forearms. There was something about a man with his sleeves rolled to the elbows that never failed to send you into a feral kind of heat, and right now was no different.

Why did he have to look so downright tantalising? Why did your thighs have to clench together like you were some horny beast in an actual heat?

The aloof expression, the way that he seemed to caress you with his hazel eyes and the simple pleasure of how big he was. At the end of the day, you were no better than an animal, and you animal brain was saying that big was good. Big would rock your world given the chance.

“I found something that belongs to you and thought I should return it,” he said matter-of-factly.

“Oh? That’s kind of you, what is it?”

You wondered what he could have found, mentally scanning your memory of something you might have misplaced or been looking for. Standing, you took two steps forward but froze in place at the sight of your personal notebook held in his large hand. Surely your heart had seized in your chest, it certainly felt like it had.

Oh fuck - no! No no no. Please don’t have read it. I’ll do all my weekend chores rather than playing videogames and I’ll even unpack that final box that has been sitting in the spare room if you’ll do me this one solid favour.

Your eyes widened, looking from the notebook to his face and back again. For a second you thought your silent pleas had been answered, but when had life ever been so benevolent to you before? Kento winked almost imperceptibly, and you wished that a sink hole would form beneath your feet to save you from this mortification.

Heat rose to your cheeks in rushing waves. You swayed unsteadily on the spot with your hand outstretched for the book, desperate for some distance but needing the offending item back in your possession.

Kento chuckled and the deep baritone rumble felt as if the sound resonated within your own body. It stroked at you with exploratory phantom touches although he hadn’t moved. Your every muscle tightened whilst you waited for him to hand over the notebook that held some of your wildest fantasies.

When he held it over his head instead of depositing it into your awaiting sweaty paws, you swore it felt like the air was sucked from the room. It seemed like he had read a very specific piece of information, and you would die of embarrassment.

“I suggest…” he drawled almost lazily. “That if you want it back, you best climb me for it.”

“You—you weren’t meant to read that,” you whispered, staring into the depths of the floor.

A pair of sturdy but unassuming boots came into view. You frowned, surprised.

Two fingers fit beneath your chin and raised your head up to meet his gaze. There was a prominent frown between his eyes that hadn’t been there seconds prior, and you couldn’t help but admire his sharply angular face even if you were doing your best to look anywhere but into his eyes.

“I apologise… perhaps that was a bit too forward. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, but you see... I’ve thought about you a lot and not just because I found your notebook? Journal? Doesn’t matter.” Kento exhaled through his nose, jaw tightening. “You think I’m big? I don’t see it myself, but then I was never my best critic.”

You nodded in affirmation, where was the point in denying it now? His eyes softened, crinkles forming in the outer corners whilst his thumb lightly grazed your jaw. Roasted coffee grounds and notes of sandalwood invaded your nose as his head bent lower, towards your ear.

“Then I will repeat myself only once, sweetheart, climb me if you want it back.”

And so, you did.

You climbed him like a feral little animal.

You reached the offending notebook and hurled it to the floor without a second thought. His laughter was warm and the most boisterous you had heard from him. It made you follow through with your impulse to hook your arms around his strong neck, fingers curling into the rough undercut at his nape. Your legs were quick to follow, circling his waist until your entire front rocked into the wall of muscles that was his body.

“Tell me, what else have you put in that saucy little journal about me, hm?”

“You didn’t read it all?” you asked, almost shocked at his level of restraint if it were true.

Kento shook his head, and you believed him. He wasn’t one for lying. “I wanted to hear them from your mouth.”

“Oh… that’s… mm. Anyone ever told you that you’re as perfect as a fictional man, preferably one created by a woman? Don’t answer that,” you clamoured, pressing your hand across his mouth as it stretched open to reply.

“There’s—uh—this one thing.” You nudged the tip of his nose with yours, moving to speak directly into his ear.

Kento’s breath caught in his throat as you whispered about getting off on his thigh, his hold at your waist, which has stayed appropriate until then, tightened and moved towards your backside—squeezing.

With you still attached to him like a koala, he seated himself on the edge of your desk, lowering you until you were spread over one of his incredibly thick thighs. Your skirt bunched around your middle to accommodate the position as his expansive palms wandered your sides, pawing at your hips and palming your ass with a groan.

In no time at all he was dragging you along the length of his thigh. Your underwear was ruined by this point, your clit throbbed from the friction, the seam of yours and his clothing catching you in deliciously new ways and you still hadn’t kissed him.

You remedied this terrible oversight with enthusiasm, delighting when he startled at your forwardness before he melted, shoulders sagging. It was everything and more. No fantasy could live up to the reality. Kento kissed softly, thoroughly. Whilst he continued to lead the rhythm of your body as you rode his thigh, he was more than happy to let you lead here.

His mouth was surprisingly hot for a man who always seemed to remain cool and composed, a deep groan rumbled in his throat when you curled around his tongue and sucked on the warm, wet muscle. The warmly spiced scent and taste of Kento filled your lungs and evaporated any sense of reason you might have had about making out with a fellow teacher in your classroom. It didn’t matter. Only this mattered.

“Feel good?” he asked as you parted for much-needed air. His rough fingers gripped into the fat of your behind, reaching beneath the hem of your skirt to bunch the cotton of your underwear until he was forcing the material between your slick pussy lips.

You nodded enthusiastically, drawing his lower lip into your mouth and sucking on the tender flesh in earnest. Kento was manhandling you in a way that would make any staunch feminist blanch, but it was exactly what you wanted, exactly what you needed.

“You’re making a mess on me, darling.”

“So, I’m you’re darling, am I?” You quipped back despite sounding out of breath. He was right about the mess, there was an embarrassingly long wet streak on his tailored slacks from being manipulated along his thigh. You were fucking yourself against the strong muscles that flexed beneath you and leaving the evidence for anyone to see.

“I think I’d like that,” he admitted with a hum, planting kisses to your neck and collarbone.

Your orgasm was coming in fast; the combination of the friction against your clenching cunt, the large palms gripping into your ass as if he owned it and his delicious mouth teasing your skin was speeding you towards the finish line in haste. His admittance that he might like some kind of relationship with you was the final nail in your coffin, so to speak.

“Nanami-san!”

Blond hair fell into your vision, urgent lips pressing open-mouthed kisses to your cleavage and the swell of your breasts. His tongue flickered at your flesh, warming you up before sucking possessive purple bruises that would be hard to explain later.

“Kento,” he breathed against your collarbone, “call me Kento, my darling.”

Gods, could he be any more perfect? It was as if he knew exactly what to do and say to set you off like a firecracker!

You shrieked in surprise when Kento lifted you like you weighed nothing—you most definitely did not weigh nothing. He held you tight as he turned your body so your back was flush with his chest, rearranging you over his broad thigh once more but this time you could feel the prod of his prominent erection at the outside of your hip. It was thick and imposing, distracting but only in that you wondered what it would look like, feel like��in your hand and stretching your walls.

“Go on, be a good girl and get yourself off on my thigh,” he cooed, nipping at your earlobe.

Kento grabbed at your breasts, squeezing the doughy mounds between his fingers whilst you rode his thigh to completion, pinching you through lace and chiffon. The orgasm that hit was staggering; it stole the air from your lungs, the equilibrium of your body and the sight from your eyes.

White lights pulsed behind your eyelids as you gushed like a surging waterfall over his trousers, ruining your underwear and skirt in the process. It would be embarrassing if it wasn't for the primal-sound growl that emanated from his chest. The almost bestial sounding war cry that made you shiver whilst you floated back down from ecstasy.

“Atta girl. There it is. Mhm, so good for me. So receptive. Can I take you home?” Kento asked, his voice thick and strained with unspoken emotion. “Cause I think it’s my turn now, and I can't wait to see how goddamn perfect you’re gonna look taking my cock.”

You smiled, drunk on the bliss. “Sure thing, big boy, but let’s not make this our get together story for the grandkids, yeah?”

You were so glad he found your notebook, even if you had no idea that it was Satoru Gojo that you needed to thank in the first place...

[eringobragh420]

🖤 Pairing: Damian Priest x f!Reader 🖤 Summary: Damian shows his girlfriend that he’s not like the other guys she’s dated.  🛑 Warnings: NSFW. Thigh-riding 18+ 🖤 Notes: Spanish translations are at the end of the story. I do not speak Spanish, so if anything is incorrect, please let me know and I’ll fix it! 🖤 Taglist: If you’d like to be added, please click here! 🖤 Requested By: Anonymous. Hope you enjoy! 🖤 MASTERLIST

She didn’t have much to compare him to, but Damian was absolutely the most talented kisser she’d ever laid her lips upon. Again, there’d been only a few men in her past, but Damian seemed as though he’d evolved into some kind of superior man when equated to the previous ones. He held doors for her and pulled out her chair, she’d never once caught him looking at another woman in her presence, he was a hand-holder when his arm wasn’t hanging around her shoulders. And on top of all of that, he was a patient man. Given her previous experience, despite the beautiful angel that was Damian Priest, she found it difficult to initiate intimacy, having never really had to—her exes had been the ones to tell her when she was turned on and what position to fold herself into. Her pleasure had been the furthest thing from their minds. 

Damian, on the other hand, made sure to kiss and lick at every one of the hot spots on her neck and throat, mumbling at how beautiful and perfect she was. She could feel his cock stiffening under her from her straddled position on his lap, and something clicked in her brain like a hypnotist had just snapped their fingers, signaling a change in personality. She put on a brave face—of course she wanted to suck Damian’s dick, but did she really want it to be during their very first sexual encounter? And would it be good for him to critique her skills so early in their relationship? Skills she’d been told were subpar at best.

“Hey,” Damian’s voice drifted into her paralyzing thoughts. Oh, god, she thought, how long had she been staring at him like a goddamn fool? “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing!” she squeaked, and she glanced down, expecting to see actual flames erupting off her cheeks. “Nothing,” she tried more calmly. “I just, um … nothing. I’ll just …” She started to climb down Damian’s long legs, not unlike descending a tree, and her heart froze when she felt his hands on her biceps.

“What are you … something’s wrong,” Damian said, brows furrowing. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to … you know that, right?”

“Yeah,” she sighed, although whenever those particular words had been spoken to her by her previous boyfriends, they always meant the opposite.

Damian cradled her face, forcing her eyes to his. “I’m not like them,” he told her. “I don’t expect anything from you. ¿Me entiendes? As long as you’re happy, I’m happy.”

His girlfriend nodded. “It’s just hard … when every guy I’ve ever been with has been concerned about his pleasure before mine … if they even bothered with mine at all.”

Damian’s smile was soft, understanding, maybe a little sympathetic. “I have an idea,” he said. “What if I … put you like this—” She was already in her panties and a t-shirt, so he took her hips in his hands and manipulated them until she was straddling one of his thighs. “—and let you use me to make yourself cum?” The confusion must have been plain on her face because Damian chuckled. “Just move your hips … ” His warm, rough hands still gripping her hips began to deliberately move them back and forth, and she gasped at the shocking jolts of pleasure exploding from her pussy with just a hint of friction against Damian’s solid thigh. “… and make yourself cum. You don’t have to touch me—” He gestured to the armrests of the brand new chair they’d just purchased for his apartment not an hour before. “—and I don’t have to touch you if you don’t want me to.” He folded his hands behind his head, her eyes immediately drawn to his tattooed biceps, and her hips rolled as she felt a gush of wetness surge through her pussy.

It didn’t take much consideration on her part before she started leisurely moving back and forth. She felt safe in Damian’s arms, or on his lap, as it were, and she trusted wholly that he would stand by his word not to touch her or force her to touch him. She’d never been in control like this, or had this much freedom to do whatever it took to make herself cum, and the thought was exhilarating and incredibly arousing. Damian Priest under her, telling her to use him? That would certainly be masturbation material for years to come.

“There you go,” he encouraged, eyes locked on her dampening panties and, consequently, his moistening jeans. “I wish you could see how sexy you are right now.”

She felt her skin ignite again, but her lips curled into a devilish smirk. It was such a strange feeling to have an attractive man tell her she was sexy, and she’d find it hard to believe if that man wasn’t so sincere when he said it, pupils blown as he sucked his bottom lip into his mouth. Hips still moving, she slipped her fingers under his t-shirt, lifting it up his sculpted abs, and Damian took the cue to remove the item altogether, tossing it to the floor beside them. She bit her lip, gliding her soft hands up his ample chest, planting the heels over his nipples, and her rhythm and pressure both increased.

“That’s it,” Damian moaned, and it seemed as though he were experiencing just as much pleasure as she was. “God, look at you—”

Her mouth covered his before he could finish, and she felt and heard him chuckle as their tongues danced and their lips smacked. Her nails dug into his chest, and the moan that was ripped from deep in his throat was desperate and aroused, and she couldn’t believe he still hadn’t demanded she give at least a little attention to his cock. She could feel him getting bigger and bigger, straining against his blue jeans with the ripped knees, and was he really this excited just by watching her? Flattery overwhelmed her before she could stop it or overthink it, and she pulled away, breaking the kiss with Damian, and she swore she heard a whine escape his perfect lips.

Her smile grew as her trust in Damian grew. After he’d removed his shirt, his hands had gone to the back of his head just as before—he didn’t even touch himself. Her hooded eyes drank in his flexed biceps covered in ink, his chest again, abs, and those delicious Vs at his hips that disappeared into his black belt and jeans. She felt a warmth and a tingling pooling deep within her, and she thought she recognized it, but it had been so long, she really wasn’t sure anymore. Either way, she lifted her own shirt over her head, revealing her breasts without the barrier of a bra. She reached behind Damian and pulled his hands out, placing them on her newly exposed breasts and quickly hardening nipples.

“That’s my girl,” Damian praised, smirking, “use me however you want.” Her hands over his molded them into cupping her breasts, squeezing, and she looked him dead in the eye when their fingers tweaked one of her nipples. She cried out, hips stuttering, back arching, pressing her breasts firmly into his hands. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” she confessed incredulously.

“What do you need?” Damian asked. “Tell me—”

Acting on instinct alone, she pulled his head to her chest, and he reacted just in time to open his mouth and accept a nipple, immediately tonguing and sucking. Her pussy and his thigh were practically one by this point as she rode him without abandon, a considerable wet spot forming on Damian’s jeans. He dropped the nipple he was working on out of his mouth, leaving it coated in saliva as he attacked its twin.

“I’m gonna cum,” she whispered, arms wrapped around his neck. “Fuck, fuck …”

The orgasm tore through her, wracking her body with shivers and shudders, pussy clenching around nothing but it still felt so fucking good. She rode the waves of pleasure for probably longer than she should have, slowly coming down, eventually halting the progress of her hips. 

“Wow,” she whispered, grinning like an idiot. 

Damian’s smile was just as bright. “Feel good?”

She nodded. “And really soaked.”

“We can take a shower … and you can watch me take care of this—” He grabbed at his bulge, and her hips twitched. “—or you can help, if you want.”

She cupped his face, smirking. “I think I definitely wanna help.”

🎀 ¿Me entiendes? — Do you understand me?

[zepskies]

Every Second Counts - Part 4

Pairing: Russell Shaw x F. Reader

Summary: One date with your best friend’s brother leaves you wanting more, even though his questionable job and vagabond lifestyle make you want to guard your heart. When your brother falls into trouble, however, Russell is the one you trust to help you find him. 

AN: No cliffhangers this time, I promise. 😘

Word Count: 4K

Tags/Warnings: Perilous situations, blood and violence, some more protective Russell, angst, hurt/comfort, and fluff.~

💜 Series Masterlist

Part 4: “Mountain Man”

You were running for your life. 

Blood dripped down into your line of vision, but you swept it away from your face with a haphazard hand, along with your tears as you nearly stumbled on the path. 

A gunshot rang in your ears and hit a tree instead of your head.

Shit! You screamed and ducked, but you kept running…

After you tumbled down the hill, it was a small mercy that you didn’t break any bones when you eventually landed at the bottom. You’d stared up at the sky, winded, your back aching. Until you noticed Rick, one of Eddie’s men. He was sliding down the hill after you. 

You didn’t know what happened to your brother after he attempted to push you out of harm’s way. That thought alone gripped your heart like a vice, but you knew you couldn’t stay here on the ground either. 

You forced your body to move, whimpering at the pain and stiffness. Shakily you pushed onto your feet and slipped on dead leaves as you went. You moved your legs faster, until you were able to take off running deeper into the forest.

You gasped when your foot caught on a large rock. It sent you crashing into the ground. With your hands still bound, it made pushing yourself back up that much more difficult.

You spat out a couple of leaves. Fuck…

When Rick caught up to you, fear made you jolt into action. You wrapped your gathered hands around the rock that felled you and tossed it at him with all the strength you had. He blocked the projectile with the same hand that held his gun, like an idiot. You really couldn’t be blamed when the gun went off in his face.

He screamed, and so did you on reflex. Though his cheek and brow had been grazed by the bullet, he was lucky he still had both eyes. He blinked a bit of blood out of his left one. You scrambled back onto your feet and meant to keep running, but Rick still managed to surge forward and get a hold of your hair. 

Uttering a short scream, you grabbed his shirt and kneed him as hard as you could between the legs. You hoped you crushed his dick and balls.

“Oh, f—” He went down to the ground, sinking onto his knees as he dropped his gun. He glared up at you. “You little bitch!” 

You were panting for breath, but you didn’t wait for him to recover and grab his weapon again. 

You ran. 

You ran, even though you had no idea where you were going. You just knew that you couldn’t stay in one place. But if you couldn’t find your way around a college campus, how the hell were you supposed to navigate the damn Medicine Bow National Forest?

Along with your desperation and fear, tears kept filling your eyes whenever you thought of Charlie. 

Please, please, please…

“Goddamn, they could be anywhere,” Russell groused, as he and Colter hiked through the forest. He was, admittedly, breathing a bit harder from the trek uphill. “It’s been hours already.”

“It’s barely been an hour,” Colter reminded him. And he didn’t look winded in the least.

Bastard. Russell glanced at him, but then he focused on the horizon. The sun was finally starting to come up, which was good for them. They could see the trails more clearly.

“Remember when Dad used to make us free-climb the cliffs in Sierra?” Russell asked.

“Yeah,” Colter said. “You used to beat me every time. Wonder what happened to that guy.”

His tone was teasing. Russell shot him a look, half annoyed, and half amused.

“Yeah, well, he turned 40,” Russell replied.

Colter smiled, but both of them paused when they heard a gunshot ring out, followed by two more.

“That was close,” he said.

“Yeah,” Russell agreed, drawing his own gun. Colter did the same, and they hurried up a roaming hill that had Russell briefly peering over the side. In his mind’s eye, he had to shutter away the memory of seeing a body flung over the side in the dark and the rain. Then him looking over the edge of that cliff and recognizing his father’s twisted body.

And Colter, shouting up at him with angry, tearful, accusing eyes.

A male groan broke Russell out of his thoughts as he and his brother came up on a grim scene. Two men laid dead, and another young man with dark hair was lying prone on the ground, clutching his wounded leg. He’d been shot, though a gun also was held tightly in his own hand. He aimed it at the newcomers.

“Charlie?” Colter asked. He recognized the other man from your family photos.

Charlie blinked up at him in surprise, but not without a grim set to his jaw.

“Who the hell are you?” he asked.

Russell let out a subtle breath. Colter was relieved as well.

“I’m Colter. This is my brother, Russell,” he said. “Your sister asked for our help to find you.”

Charlie’s eyes widened. All of them slowly lowered their weapons. Russell gestured at the bodies lying yards away from him.

“I’m guessing one of those guys is Eddie Mendez?” he said.

Charlie nodded, gesturing at the man closest to him with his gun. He groaned at the agony in his right thigh. Colter quickly went to his side and began to wrap a tourniquet around his leg to stem the bleeding.

“Did the bullet go through?” Colter asked.

“I think so,” Charlie replied.

“Where’s your sister?” Russell asked, his impatience evident in his stance and the way he held his gun while scanning his surroundings. His frown deepened when he didn’t see you.

“Oh, fuck!” Charlie said, and not at the pain of Colter wrapping his leg. His eyes were wide with panic. “Rick’s after her. I clipped him, but he slipped by me.”

“Where?” Russell asked. Charlie pointed down the side of the hill.

“Down there. Headed north I think, but I’m not sure,” he said quickly. “Help her, please!”

Russell didn’t need any encouragement. He started down the hill first. 

After making sure Charlie was stable for now, Colter followed after his brother a few minutes later. 

Russell called your name as he searched through the dense trees. Sunlight was beginning to filter through their leaves in dappled color on the trail. It gave him a better view ahead.

He stopped short when he saw a splatter of blood on the ground, painting the dirt and some dead leaves. A well of unease rose in his gut.

He headed toward the sound of running water, and he soon found another cliff. Just beyond it was a waterfall, and river below. Seeing no signs of life, he pulled back and continued to call your name, and all the while, pushing down his worry.

“Russell?!”

He turned sharply to see you coming out of your hiding place—a large fallen tree. A smile started to raise his lips, but no sooner had he taken one step in your direction, when he almost got a bullet in his head for his trouble. 

“Watch out!” you yelled. Rick came out into the clearing and aimed at you next. 

“Get down!” Russell shouted. 

Without blinking, he shot Rick three times: once in the shoulder, twice in the chest. 

The man went down. He was dead before he even met the ground. 

It was then that Colter finally caught up. Russell nodded at him, but his focus was on heading for the fallen tree after he stowed his gun.

The moment he took a step over it, you popped up with a yell, ready to smack him with a tree branch. He leaned back raised up his hands in defense. 

“Whoa, hey, it’s okay! It’s just me, slugger,” he said with a grin. 

You let out a sharp sigh of relief. The branch fell from your loose fingers. As you caught your breath, your mouth trembled, and your eyes filled with tears at the sight of him. 

Russell softened. He reached for you.

“Come ‘ere,” he said. Your hands slipped into his, and he helped you over the trunk of the tree. After using his handy pocketknife to cut through the zip ties binding your wrists together, you landed right into his waiting embrace. There, you spilled hot tears into his bulletproof vest. 

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I’ve gotcha,” he said. His voice was low and soothing. “You’re okay.”

You raised your head with a desperate question in your eyes.

“Charlie?” you asked.

“Charlie’s okay too,” Russell assured. His hand soothed over your tangled hair and down your back. He could feel you trembling as you rested against him and sobbed. He held you tight, safe, as he rocked you a little from side to side. His own relief was a weight off his chest. 

Colter stood by and watched with a secret smile. 

With his bare hands clawing into damp soil, Colter dug up the crate Charlie buried near the base of the waterfall. True to his word, it was filled with precious artifacts. 

“Just, please be careful,” you warned him again over his shoulder. “These are quite literally hundreds of years old.”

Before Colter could assure you, again, that he’d be careful, you actually set a hand on his shoulder and implored him to move back.

“Matter of fact, sorry, let me do this part,” you said. “I’m the only one who’s really trained to handle these. Plus, your hands are dirty.”

Colter raised a brow, but he obliged you. He glanced over at his brother. Russell just watched in amusement while you opened the crate. 

You wished you had gloves on for this, but you supposed it couldn’t be helped. You stopped just shy of touching them—a bow and arrow, three spears, and a couple of knives. Each were crafted with wood and bone, with designs carved and accented in faded red and blue.

“Wow,” you whispered. Your historian heart was singing right now. 

You made sure each artifact was intact and hadn’t sustained water damage, then you covered them back up with the lid to the crate. 

“Okay, now you can take it, thank you. This thing is heavy,” you said, with a pat on Colter’s shoulder. 

His lips played at a smile, but he accepted the responsibility of carrying the crate.

Russell rested a hand on the small of your back to subtly help you back up the hill. You couldn’t help walking closer with him, your arm brushing against his side. You glanced up at him with a smile. He matched you, then looked up ahead. 

Charlie was waiting for you all while leaning against a tree. He still looked like utter hell—cut up, bruised, bloody, and now shot in the leg. You went to his side and gently grabbed his arm. 

“God, Charlie. You sure you’re okay?” you asked. He curled an arm around your shoulders and flashed you a familiar grin. 

“Oh, yeah. I’m like a cockroach. Just keep coming back,” he said.

You had to agree with that, laughing through the spark of your tears. Russell came on his other side and shouldered most of your brother's weight off his bad leg. 

“Okay, here we go. One step at a time,” Russell said.

Slowly, painfully, Charlie managed to make it back to Colter’s truck with you and Russell supporting him. Colter brought up the rear with the artifacts in tow. 

And behind you all, the sun broke more fully across the dewy trees in a morning swathed with orange and gold.

After Colter drove you and Charlie to the hospital, he and Russell took off again soon after to do something with the three bodies hidden under a tarp in the bed of the pickup truck. The thought made you shudder, along with the fact that the Shaw brothers knew how to hide bodies.

But you supposed it was better than the alternative.

As it was, you, Colter, and Charlie had to lie to the hospital staff about how you both had earned your injuries—in a brutal mugging, where Colter was able to scare off the men that got the jump on you and Charlie.

"I never saw their faces," as he'd later told the police, while the nurses prepped him for surgery. "I just tried to protect my sister the best I could."

You backed him up on the story, even as the lie felt bitter on your tongue and made you nervous (especially when you thought of poor Dr. Feinman).

Despite that little break-in at the museum yesterday, you'd never been good at being a rule breaker. Fortunately, Colter's calmness when he gave his corroborating statement helped you. Like Russell, he was a solid, anchoring presence...if in a different way.

For the crate of relics, Colter advised Charlie to ship them back to the museum anonymously. It would be the easiest way to encourage the police to lose steam on looking for who took them in the first place. You and your brother begrudgingly agreed, even if you had a secret thought of sending the artifacts to the NMAI. Maybe you could convince Charlie to send them there instead, or to one of the local Native American tribes here in Wyoming.

Hours later, however, you were able to finally be with your brother when he came out of surgery. In that time, your own bruises and the cut above your brow had been tended to in the Emergency Department. Now, you sat by his bedside while he slept off the anesthesia. You stroked his scuffed hand on the bed.

He really was a mess, you thought, as a tear rolled down your cheek. But he was alive. That was what mattered now.

A quiet knock at the door had you looking up, and then smiling to see Russell.

“Hey,” you said quietly, and in surprise. “Everything…went well?”

Russell’s lips quirked. “Yeah, we’re all set.”

No one would be finding those bodies anytime soon. He had a buddy in Denver, Colorado who happened to be a cremator. It was only a couple hours over from Laramie. He and Colter had just gotten back from driving the bodies there.

Before Colter drove over to Dory's apartment next, both to check on her and to fill her in on everything, he'd dropped Russell off at your house so he could get his car. He hadn’t felt right about leaving you in the hospital by yourself, even if you did have your brother.

Not without saying goodbye, at least.

“You know, I need to ask his doctor a question about his post-op care,” you said, gesturing at Charlie. “Can you stay with him for a minute while I go find a nurse?”

“Sure,” Russell agreed. You smiled gratefully and touched his arm as you passed him.

When you were gone, it left a heavy silence in your wake. Russell looked over at Charlie’s sleeping form. Russell sighed and sunk down into the chair beside the bed. He rubbed his tired face with both hands.

Shit. Now that he thought about it, he could’ve just told Colter to bring Dory here. He pulled out his phone to call his sister, when a low groan caught his attention.

Aw geez. What kinda timing, Russell thought, as he realized Charlie was waking up. His eyes slowly slid open, brows furrowing at the bright lights above him, then at the man beside him.

“Hey, man,” Russell said. “You’re okay. You’re in the hospital.”

“Yeah, I figured,” Charlie said, with another groan as he tried to stretch his body. He found he couldn’t yet move his leg. As awareness blinked back into his eyes, he settled on Russell with resignation.

“Thank you,” he said. “What you did for me, for her…I sure as hell didn’t deserve it, but thank you for saving her.”

Russell shook his head. “No need. Just get better.”

“Yeah. The doc says in a few months, I’ll be able to learn how to walk again,” Charlie said.

Russell gave him a firmer look.

“No, I mean get better,” he said. “You know you nearly got your sister killed.”

Charlie’s gaze fell. His face tightened, but really, he couldn’t even be upset at the accusation. He knew it was true, and his guilt already threatened to consume him. He also knew he should be in jail for what he’d done, and what he’d facilitated for months. After what nearly happened in the past twenty-four hours, he wasn’t sure how you could ever forgive him.

“Look, I served too. I know what you’re going through, being back here,” Russell said. “It feels wrong and right, don’t it?”

After a beat, Charlie nodded. “What branch?”

“Special Ops. I hear you were a pilot, Captain.”

“Yeah, I was,” Charlie said, his eyes lowering. “Now…now I don’t know what I am.”

“You’re her brother,” Russell said. Both his tone and his gaze all but demanded that the other man look him in the eyes. “Not her father or her son, her brother. I know you’ve been struggling. But I think you already know what you need to do, and figure out who you’re gonna be today, tomorrow, and the next.”

Charlie took in those words, and tried not to chafe at them coming from a near stranger. He knew, deep down, that all of it was right.

You came in a moment later with two cups of coffee. You brightened with a gasp when you saw that Charlie was awake.

“Hey.” He found a smile for you. You gave Russell the coffee you’d brought for him, but you quickly set yours down on the rolling tray so you could sit beside your brother.

Russell stepped out to give you two some privacy. You thanked him again and watched him go. Then, you turned back to Charlie with a tearful smile.

“How’re you feeling?” you asked.

“Have I said how much I love morphine?” Charlie remarked.

You rolled your eyes and took his hand in yours. “Yeah, how can I forget your thing for hard drugs.”

That hit sharper than a mere joke. His eyes fell away from yours. You sighed and bit your lip.

“I’m sorry,” you said. Charlie shook his head and covered your hand with his.

“No, I’m sorry. For everything I’ve put you through. And I don’t just mean today,” he said. “I’m going to make it up to you.”

“All that matters is that you’re here, and you’re going to be fine,” you said. “I’ve already put together a list of what you’re going to need when we bring you home—”

Charlie stopped you with a squeeze of your hand.

“I’m not going home just yet,” he said.

“Well, no, not until they discharge you, but—”

Again, he gently cut you off. “You were right. I need treatment, and not just for this damn leg.”

He swept a hand through his hair and sighed.

“When they let me out of here, I’m going back to rehab,” he said. “After that, we’ll see.”

 Tears stung in your eyes…but you nodded in relief. You held both of his hands then.

“You’re not doing this alone,” you told him. “I’ll be with you, every step.”

 Charlie let out a self-deprecating chuckle. He felt he didn’t deserve that, but he smiled at you.

“I know. You’ll be nagging me in my head, even when you’re not there,” he said. You smirked and brushed his greasy hair away from his face.

“Damn straight,” you replied. “I’ve finally become Mom.”

Charlie shook his head in amusement, but he leveled you with a pointed finger.

“But for now, you need to go home and get some rest,” he said.

You reluctantly agreed with that too. After a full twenty-four hours without sleep, you realized that you were exhausted. You leaned over and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“I love you,” you said. “I’ll come back to see you tomorrow.”

“Good. Love you too,” said Charlie. His eyelids were starting to droop from the pain medication, but he forced himself to stay awake for a little while longer. He even helped you back onto your feet with a guiding hand on your back. “Wait, is someone staying with you tonight? I don’t want you to be alone.”

You grabbed up your purse. “Don’t worry. I think I’ve got that covered.”

Your brother quirked a suspicious smile at the look on your face. The one you tried to hide from him when you noticed his scrutiny.

“What, is it one of those guys who helped us?” he asked. “Is it the blonde one—Ken doll? Or the mountain man?”

Of course he knew their names, but he just wanted to mess with you. He could already see you getting flustered while you twisted the strap of your purse between your fingers and glanced at the door.

 “What? No! Just go to sleep. Take advantage of the morphine while you’ve got it,” you said. “Don’t worry. I’ll call Dory.”

Charlie leveled you with a look. “Mhmm.”

He pulled the blanket higher on his chest and watched you leave. When the door swung open, he saw Russell leaning against the wall, waiting for you. 

Charlie huffed. He should’ve known. 

Okay, mountain man.  

That was the last thought he had before he drifted off.

You left your brother’s room just about overwhelmed with a maelstrom of emotions. However, the moment you saw Russell waiting for you, leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets, it all distilled into one simple thing. 

He met your gaze and started to smile. 

You smiled back, and you went to him. 

You reached up to frame his face with both hands, and you searched for something in his eyes. They were tinged with surprise, but he waited on you, wondering what you were about to do. 

When you thought you found what you were looking for, you raised up on your toes and pressed your lips to his.

His hands unconsciously found your waist and held you to him. He met your lips in kind, and even deepened the connection. Your fingers slipped into his hair, lightly dragging your nails against his scalp. He hummed in pleasure. 

When your lips eventually parted from his, it was still too soon, he thought. Russell stared down at you with a question in his eyes—one he couldn’t help voicing.

“What was that for?” he asked.

“Thank you,” you whispered. “Thank you for everything.”

Ah… Russell’s smile evened out and faded slightly. 

So that was just a gesture of gratitude. He hoped you didn’t decide to thank Colter that way. 

“You don’t need to thank me,” Russell said. “I’m glad Charlie’s all right.”

“No, I do need to. So thank you,” you said. Your hands drifted down his chest, plucking at the edge of his jacket. 

“I don’t really want to be alone today, to be honest,” you admitted. “Would you…want to…keep me company for a while? You could rest up at my place.”

Russell’s brows raised. His lips curved. 

“Well, sure. I could do that. Your couch seemed pretty comfortable,” he said. 

“You don’t have to stay on the couch,” you replied. 

And then, Russell finally read your meaning. He saw it in your eyes, staring up at him through your lashes.

Maybe that kiss was exactly what he thought it meant. His smile became more genuine.

“Well, okay,” he said eventually. He wrapped an arm around your waist. “Let’s get you home then.”

You leaned against his side and gave him a lazy salute. “Aye, aye, Captain.”

He shook his head. His smile deepened into a grin.  

“You’re a little delirious, aren’t you?” he asked.

“Probably need some water,” you said with a giggle. “And God, I’m starving.”

Russell laid a gentle kiss to the side of your head that wasn’t bruised.

“All right, we’ll take care of that too,” he said.

“You know what I’m craving?” you asked. He looked down at you questioningly, and again he found your smile.

“Sriracha fries,” you said.

Russell busted out laughing at that. He fist-pumped the air with his free hand. 

“Hell, yeah.” 

For that, and much more, he would count today as a win. 

AN: There we go! A nice fluffy finish for you. How did you like how Charlie's arc wrapped up, along with her reunion with Russell? 💜

But just wait. We're not quite done yet...

Next Time:

He took in your hesitant face, then the pretty dress you had on. The color matched your eyes. Soulful eyes.

He smiled when you let him see them again.

“Can you see the bruises? I think I covered them up well enough,” you said. You turned to look at yourself in the mirror again, touching your jaw carefully. 

Russell’s hand raised to find your cheek, earning your attention with wider eyes. His thumb swept across your skin as you started to blush.

“You’re beautiful,” he said with a smile. “Don’t you worry about that.”

Your face warmed further, despite your smile. 

“Yeah, the makeup helps,” you quipped. 

“I didn’t say anything about makeup,” he replied. Though he grinned and made a show of looking closer at your face. “Although, have your lashes always been that damn long?”

You laughed, but he didn’t let go of you.

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 5 (Finale!)

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[funeral-grayy]

What the fuck did you think you were doing? Parading around his penthouse in what you’ve considered a dress. You, Natsuo’s cute little best friend. You’d been following him around like a little lost puppy all night, clinging to his arm. You had no idea what you were doing to the man watching you so intently, how often he had to excuse himself so he could go adjust his hard cock in his slacks. It was one of the rare occasions his son attended one of these fancy hero parties and of course he had to bring you. Enji made it in his best interest to avoid the family house when he knew his eldest was around because that meant you were as well. You, the off-limits best friend. You were nearly half his age and all he ever wanted to do when he saw you was bury his cock so far into you, you’d feel it in your stomach. God, he’d even dreamt of you from time to time. He was so caught up in his dirty thoughts, when he looked up, you were gone and Natsou was conversing with a hero.

Feeling a bit overwhelmed and needing some time to yourself, you excuse yourself from Natsou’s side and start to wander around the penthouse. This was wildly different from their family home. Everything was crisp and clean, nothing out of place. You knew you were probably straying a bit too far from the party but your curiosity was getting the best of you. Most of the doors in the hallway were shut, with one at the very end of the hall being the exception. You looked over your shoulder quickly, eyes scanning the hallway but thankfully you were alone. You’d never been able to figure Endeavor out. Always so cold and short towards his family and fans, always so stoic. You quietly slipped past the open door and into what seemed to be his office. You trace your fingers along the smooth surface of his large oak desk, halting at an open, overturned book. The spine was old and worn, the title not familiar to you. Picking it up, you turn to lean against the desk and leaf through the pages.

“Are you lost?” A deep voice interrupted your snooping. You set the book back down on his desk and turned back around to face him. Ignoring the questioning look he was giving you, you dragged your gaze ever so slowly down his body. Fuck, you bit your lip as you took in how fucking big Endeavour was. He towered over you, and you were pretty sure he’d easily crush you if he wanted to. Your gaze continued down, over his ridiculously big pecks, god you wanted to squeeze them. You could tell that just one of his thighs was as big as both of yours put together. You could feel saliva fill your mouth, as your gaze flickered over his crotch. He was probably huge, there’s no way he wasn’t. Finally, after taking your time to check him out, you looked back up at him, a sweet smile on your face. The corner of his lip twitched as he refrained from smirking, this girl had some major balls, blatantly checking him out like that, he thought.

“No, I don’t believe I am. Just got a little side tracked is all.” Nosy was more like but you weren’t about to admit to snooping around his office. You’d only even been to the Todoroki family home, which he seemed to avoid most of the time. So of course his office piqued your curiosity. The interior design was very old fashioned and rustic. Everything smelt rich. You weren’t sure why you were being so feisty towards this man. Maybe because he wasn’t like the usual young men you went after. Maybe it was because if he really wanted to, he could snap you in fucking half and you’d thank him. This man was nothing but pure fucking muscle and you wanted to climb him like a goddamn tree.

Enji fought against the primal urge to pick you up and lay you out over his desk. Oh no, first he was going to have some fun and play around with you. You might be his son’s best friend but as far as he was concerned, you were free game while in his own home. He watched you as he took a step back, shutting his office door behind him and locking it. No one would be interrupting him. He removed the suit jacket he’d been wearing and tossed it in the black leather couch to his right. He began to roll up his white dress shirt sleeves as he approached you, his eyes never leaving yours. You knew you were playing with fire but by god did you want to be burned. You were transfixed with how good his forearms looked, now that both sleeves were rolled to his elbows.

“Has my son’s best friend always been such a dirty fucking slut?” His deep voice shook you to your very core, your cunt clenching around nothing. You had slipped out of your heels and was now perched on the edge of his desk. Raising one leg towards him, your foot gently stroked his obvious hardened length through his slacks.

“Has my best friend's dad always gotten a hard-on over women half his age?” You asked innocently, tilting your head to the side. He wrapped one of his hands around your ankle, easily moving it to the side while he placed himself between your parted legs now. The bottom half of your dress eased up your thighs and bunched around your waist as you opened your legs wider to accommodate his size. He immediately invaded your space, pressing his hard body into yours. One of his large hands reached up and grasped your throat, causing you to gasp in surprise.

“You’ve got quite the mouth on you, don’t you?” He squeezed the sides of your throat, not too hard but hard enough to restrict your breathing. Your eyes glazed over with lust as you held his stare.

“Why don’t you let me put it to good use?” You have no idea where this confidence and boldness was coming from, maybe the two glasses of champagne in your system or maybe you just weren’t afraid of this man like everyone else was. All you knew is that you wanted him and you would have him. The hand that was around your throat moved up to grasp your chin, his other finger coming up to press two fingers to your closed lips. You opened your mouth willingly, taking two thick fingers inside and sucking them. Drool dribbled down your chin as he pushed them deeper into your mouth, your tongue swirling around them. He groaned at the realization that your gag reflex was nearly nonexistent. He swiftly removed his fingers, wanting to get this show on the road before his son noticed you gone.

“On your knees then, sweetheart.” He took a step back, allowing you to hop down from the desk. Your movement was almost instant, getting off the desk and dropping to your knees in front of the big man. You looked up at him with innocent doe eyes, the look going straight to his cock. One of his hands stroked your cheek almost in adoration but you knew better than that. “Such a well behaved girl, I might have to keep you after all.”

Your mouth watered as he began to undo his belt, maintaining eye contact the entire time. He chuckled as you lurched forward to assist him with undoing his pants, clearly very eager to have his cock in your mouth. He watched as your eyes widened and you audibly swallowed at the size of his bulge in his black boxer briefs. You hadn’t even pulled them down yet and you could already tell he was far bigger than anyone you’d been with but it was the thickness of him that scared you. Scared you but also aroused you, you could feel yourself growing wetter. Reaching forward, you gently traced the head of his cock, watching as it twitched. You continued to slowly tease him through his underwear, content with all his little reactions. Growing impatient, Endeavor slid his boxer briefs down his thick thighs, his cock springing free. Your first thought was how pretty his cock was. The head was an angry red and glistening with pre cum, more gushing from the tip and slowly dripping down his length.

Without further thought, you leaned forward and licked a long strip from the base all the way to the tip, humming as you gathered his pre on your tongue. You smiled up at the man who was having a tough time keeping it together, seeing him in such a weak vulnerable state was such a treat. You were used to the hardened shell of Endeavor, not this man before you trying to stifle his groans. Not wanting to tease him any longer, you immediately took him in your mouth. The strangled moan spurred you on. You lick and suck up and down his length, your tongue tracing the long vein up his shaft. You become a drooling mess very quickly, you're barely able to get most of him in your mouth. The hold on the back of your head tightened as he watched his cock disappear into your throat over and over again.

“What would Natsou say if he could see you now? His little best friend sucking his fathers cock.”

He gathered your hair in one hand and caressed your cheek with the other. It was so hard to resist just picking you up and fucking you senseless but he knew he didn’t have the luxury of time tonight, so this would have to do for now. He watched as tears streaked down your cheeks, god, how could someone be so beautiful like this? He wanted to ruin you, absolutely destroy you. Without much more thought, he held your hair tight and took over, fucking into your warm mouth. He could feel himself get harder, if that was even possible, as you took him deeper into your throat. Your jaw ached as you accommodated to his size, the lack of a gag reflux a blessing right now. You moaned as the tip hit the back of your throat and stilled, more tears running down your cheeks.

“Such a good fucking girl. Think you can handle me?”

Your words were gargled around his cock, more drool now dripping down onto the floor below.

“Oh sweetie, don’t talk with your mouth full.”

His words were condescending but god did they do something to you. The man above you grunted as he started to fuck your mouth, the feeling of your warm mouth welcoming him in. Your nails dug into his thighs as he picked up speed, the ache in your jaw worsening. How he was able to stuff himself down your throat was beyond you but you knew you wouldn’t be talking much after. You slurped and kicked around his length as he continued his brutal pace. Curse words flowed out of him as he mercilessly pounded into your mouth. He could feel his balls start to tighten as his impending orgasm approached. He knows he should feel embarrassed for cumming so fast but god, your mouth felt like heaven.

“Gunna cum all over this pretty face. Mark you as mine.”

He pulled out of your mouth and quickly jerked himself off, your spit and his pre covering him. You watched in awe at how his face contorted into pure bliss as spurts of his hot cum coated your face. He gave himself a few more tugs, wiping his cum covered dick head along your lip. God, he wanted to take a picture of you. Your face was completely covered in his seed, dripping down onto the floor. Reaching behind you, he grabbed some tissues and began to clean up your face. You were shocked with his gentle touch and softened features. It didn’t last long though, as if a flip switched he went back to his full height and stared down at you.

“Meet me back here at the end of the party.”

It wasn’t a question but a demand. The confused look on your face made him break composure and chuckle.

“You didn’t think I was done with you, did you?”

[lovelytsunoda]

by my side // yuki tsunoda

a kitchen filled with the sounds of love and laughter

pasta always tastes sweeter when made together after a long week at work. all she wants is to bask in his sunshine. and hes all too glad to share his light with her

pairing: yuki tsunoda x reader

warnings: confessions of love, I guess? like none of these have serious warnings on them!!

she couldn't remember being this happy.

the sun was setting just past her window, a radio on the counter- yes, a real radio- playing the oldies station, u2's 'i still haven't found what i'm looking for' playing softly as the onions sizzled on the stove.

her cat nuzzles up against her bare ankle, purring softly as it pawed at her foot. yuki comes up behind her, wrapping his strong, warm arms around her body.

she had never felt more safe than she did in his arms.

"smells incredible, darling."

"yuki, i've barely done anything." she chuckled, reaching for the jar of tomato sauce. "you're the chef here, wanna give me a hand?"

"nope." yuki shook his head, his nose cold against her skin as he buried his face in her neck. they were the same height, a match made in awkward and adorable heaven.

she knew that it wouldn't last. yuki was way too particular about his kitchen. (well, this kitchen was hers) all it took was one pour of the tomato sauce jar for yuki to spring into action, gnetly prying the can from her hands.

"babe." he pouted. "that's not how you do it. you're going to get pasta sauce all over yourself."

"that's the yuki i know." she smiled, slipping out of his arms to pick up her cat from the ground. "take it away, romeo."

yuki laughed, moving to stand in front of the stove, stirring the sauce as it boiled. “technically, agatha christie shouldn’t even be in the kitchen.”

she faked a pout, looking at the shorthair cat in her arms. “hear that, agatha? he’s trying to kick you out of your own kitchen!”

yuki made a face before scratching agatha behind the ears and turning back to the stove. giggling to herself, she tiptoed out of the kitchen with agatha christie in her arms, placing the cat back on her climbing fairy tree. yuki had helped her out it together on their third date, right after coffee and dog yoga (she always took her coffee sweet, iced and with milk and caramel syrup).

she never thought she would be this lucky. yuki was the sweetest man she’d ever met, and the best cook. it was like dating a best friend. even the most mundane tasks felt like bug things with him: going out for ice cream, pushing a shopping cart around ikea.

she knew it was still early, but he knew her inside and out (physically and mentally) and she had never felt this way for anybody else before.

she was in love with yuki tsunoda.

and she didn't know how to tell him.

she watched for a moment as he lifted a large pot onto the countertop, the veins in his arms flexing as he did so (whoever said short guys weren't sexy was a goddamn liar).

"help me with the pasta, love?" yuki hummed, flicking the light over the stovetop on.

she smiled, turning up the radio before she grabbed the box of penne noodles from the counter. placing one hand on yuki's back, she stepped around him and kissed him softly on the lips. he hummed into it, a strong hand cradling her waist.

"i love you." she whispered. there was no plan to how she said it, no thought that crossed her mind where she thought 'i have to tell him'. three simple words that made all the difference, spoken like they were a normal thing for them.

yuki smiled. "i love you." he said softly, his lips brushing over hers, breath warm on her skin.

she pulled away briefly to turn the gas stove on, the blue fames warming the bottom of the water pot. she stepped away from the stove, bringing yuki with her as the song changed, a slow, romantic ballad beginning to play.

"i love this song." she smiles, reaching for yuki's hands. "dance with me?"

"always." he beamed, pulling her close and pressing a kiss to the crown of her head before they began to sway, inxs playing in the background.

she wouldn't have it any other way. it was moments like this that she dreamed of when she was younger. the small ones: cooking with the man that she loved, taking breaks to bask in each other's light, dancing to oldies music in the kitchen with nobody else around.

tired of watching from the sidelines, agatha christie jumped down from her perch, padding into the kitchen and nuzzling at yuki's leg. the couple paused their gentle dance, laughing as yuki reached down to pick up the cat.

"did somebody get jealous? you have to learn how to share your mom, agatha. because i have a feeling i'm going to be around a lot more often." yuki hummed, scratching behind agatha's ears.

the cat purred softly, burrowing into his black t-shirt.

"see, she loves you already." she giggled, using her phone to take a quick picture of the moment. she felt so content, so fulfilled. this was everything she had ever wanted in her quiet little life and more,

"not more than you do, i hope."

"never in a million years. i love you, yuki tsunoda." she laughed, leaning in to kiss him again.

TAGS:

@magnummagnussen @libraryofloveletters @lorarri @cartierre @thatsdemko @sidcrosbyspuck @scuderiamh @diorleclerc

[midsummer-semantics]

the hint of a spark

Written for day 3 of @steddieangstyaugust.

Prompt: "The sunset looks lovely, doesn't it?"

Rating: G | WC: 2k | S4 Canon Compliant

Title from "I Will Follow You Into The Dark" by Death Cab For Cutie

divider from @steddiecameraroll-graphics

The calm before the storm is always Steve’s least favorite part. The idle waiting they all have to do before a plan can be set in motion. It’s worse now, somehow, than it was in ‘83 or ‘84 (he doesn’t think about ‘85, when most of the waiting was done tied to a chair under the heavy influence of Russian drugs). Now, half of their group is AWOL and there’s a new person that shouldn’t have been involved in the first place.

It’s still early, their plan not beginning until after the sun goes down, but Steve is restless. He wants to finish this. Finally. Three years of his life tied to the bullshit that this Vecna guy has pulled and for what? What’s the goddamn point?

“Brooding all by yourself, handsome?” a voice comes, startling Steve out of his… okay, he was brooding. He looks over to find Eddie climbing the ladder that leads to the top of the caravan, which Steve had retreated to with a flimsy excuse of ‘keeping watch’ while the others tried to get some rest, charge up for the night ahead of them.

He waits until Eddie takes a seat next to him, offering a crooked smile before responding. “Got an image to maintain.”

Eddie snorts as he settles, one leg extended so his foot hangs off the side of the RV, the other bent so he can rest his elbow on his knee. “Even in the face of impending doom, you’re still the formidable King Steve,” he quips, but it lacks the bitterness that Steve’s used to hearing when that nickname comes up.

Steve bumps his shoulder to Eddie’s, a silent acknowledgment of the joke.

It’s quiet this far away from downtown. Not the suffocating quiet of his house or the droning quiet of Family Video on a slow day. A peaceful quiet. The kind of quiet that Steve hasn’t experienced in a while. The kind that lets him delude himself into thinking that the world is a quiet place, where the leaves rustle on the trees and crickets chirp to give the temperature and there’s no alternate dimension ready to rise up and raze the town. 

It’s a shame it’s March, he thinks. If it was summer, the fireflies would be beginning their nightly dance, one turning to two turning to a hundred as the sun sets over the open field. There’d be the smell of impending rain as another summer storm rolls in and a fox or two running to find a burrow.

Steve’s always been a big fan of summers: the sunshine and the adventure, the possibilities, the liminal space between school terms that allows him to just exist without thought for what came before or what comes after.

He still likes summer, even if the beginning of July is likely to be less exciting after last year. A lot of things have been ruined thanks to the crap they’re going to face later.

“How do you do it?” Eddie asks, once again breaking through Steve’s contemplative silence.

“Huh?”

Eddie flicks open his zippo, which is the only thing that survived the dive into the Upside Down since his cigarettes didn’t. Steve watches him spark a flame, snuff it out, open, spark, snuff, repeat.

“All of—” Eddie waves his free hand over them then the RV they’re sitting on, “—this. The battles. The interdimensional plot twists. The fucking….” He sighs, shaking his head, his hair swiveling around under the bandana he’s already tied over it. “Everything.”

Steve takes a moment to look, really look, at the man sitting beside him. Eddie’s eyes are huge, pleading, but beyond that they glisten in the fading daylight. They contain the horrors that he’s faced in the last few days, but they also contain galaxies, the beginning and end of worlds as they sparkle and shine.

He’s a little pale, sure, like he hasn’t seen daylight in two years, but the color rising to his cheeks as Steve studies him gives heat to the simmering in Steve’s stomach that started since Eddie held a broken bottle to his throat. 

Since before that, probably. The first time sophomore-Steve saw Eddie Munson stand on top of a lunch table and wax poetic about the system and forced conformity. 

The first time Steve really thought ‘I want to be like that.’

He doesn’t mean loud or angry or volatile, he has plenty of that hidden between the bricks of his carefully crafted walls. He knows what attention feels like, knows that, at one point, people looked to him like he brings some sort of message only they can get from him. No. He means unapologetic, open, himself.

He hasn’t really felt any of that since November ‘83. He’s made an active effort to feel nothing at all, because feeling means hurt and pain, and nothing means…

“You get used to it,” Steve states, tone light despite the tempest swirling in his being.

Eddie stares at him for several beats, enough time to have the younger man almost turning away. “That’s pretty fucked up, Steve.”

Steve scoffs, mostly because Eddie’s right and he knows that, but also because it’s second nature. Scoff at the drama, the trauma, the ridiculous things. 

Old habits die hard.

“No, but really,” Eddie continues. “You’ve been through a lot. Way more than you’ve told me, I know for sure. So…”

Steve shrugs, brings a hand up to scratch the back of his neck. “Well, normally we have—”

“The girl with super powers, yeah, I get it,” Eddie snaps. “But that doesn’t explain how you get through it all. Because if I’m honest, man, I’m about three seconds from running at every moment and you just…” He inhales and exhales heavily. “You just keep going. How?”

Steve sighs, turning back to watch the sky begin its change from blue to orange. 

“I dunno, man. I haven’t really gotten a chance to stop and think about it since it all started.”

That’s not entirely true. There’s been lulls between events before, time when Steve probably should have processed everything he’s been through. But again, it’s easier to just ignore it. Count his lucky stars that he survived another fight and then move on in the hopes he doesn’t have to do it again.

Eddie continues to fiddle with his lighter, occasionally spinning it between his forefinger and thumb before going through the motions once more. Open, spark, snuff, again.

“I guess that’s part of what I don’t get. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since it happened.”

Steve doesn’t ask him to clarify, he doesn’t need to. Not when he gets it completely.

“Barbra Holland died in my pool,” he says, once again looking out over the field. The sun has dipped below the treeline now, the sky darkening.

Eddie’s movements stop altogether. “What?”

“Yep,” Steve says, popping the P. “The night Will Byers went missing. The demogorgon that took him also killed her.”

He can feel Eddie’s eyes on him as the metalhead speaks. “And… where were you?”

Upstairs. Taking Nancy Wheeler’s virginity.

“Inside with some friends. It happened so fast, no one even heard it.”

“Shit, dude. So you’ve really been in this since the very beginning.”

Steve nods absently. “Yeah, I guess so.”

He doesn’t really think of it like that. Or, he hadn’t until now, he supposes. Mostly, he just blames himself, even though realistically he knows there’s nothing he could have done at the time even if they’d all been outside with Barb. It likely would have resulted in all of their deaths instead. There was no nail bat or firearms at that point. Just four stupid kids and an innocent girl who didn’t deserve to die.

“Billy didn’t die in the mall fire either,” he redirects.

“Oh jeez,” Eddie groans. “Don’t tell me, another demogorgon attack?”

Steve chuckles, can’t help it. “I wish. No, Mind Flayer that time.”

“It’s really uncomfortable the way all of these monsters are named after D&D characters.”

Steve laughs again, fiddling with the zipper tab on his vest. He wishes Eddie still had his cigarettes.

“Yeah, a bunch of people went missing and it turned out they were all melting into goo to create this 50-foot monster thing,” he explains, glancing over at Eddie’s horrified look. Honestly, it sounds unbelievable, like something entirely made up, so it’s a little sad to see in real-time that Eddie believes him. “Billy was working for it, I guess. I don’t really understand the connection even now. Anyway, we tried to take it out with fireworks—”

“Fireworks?” Eddie guffaws. 

Steve snorts. “Yeah well, it was all we had available. Well, that, and Nancy had a pistol, but there’s no way it would have stood a chance against this thing. But yeah, Billy tried to fight it, it was going to kill El, er, Supergirl, and Billy… I don’t know. Had a change of heart?” He shakes his head. “It was too strong, though. And he… he didn’t…”

Steve trails off, memories of that night flashing through his mind. It’s still, even now thanks to the drugs that had been in his system, but the crunching of bones and the piercing scream Max let out still ring in his ears if he listens close enough.

“So yeah,” he says after a moment. “I just try not to think about it.”

Eddie still looks scandalized when Steve looks at him again, his brows furrowed and his eyes shining in the dying daylight. He’s thinking, Steve can tell by the way his jaw flexes and his eyes dart over Steve’s face. Finally, the metalhead brings a hand up, resting it on Steve’s shoulder.

“And here you are, about to run head-first into battle again. You’re pretty amazing, Steve.”

Steve’s heart thumps hard at Eddie’s words, the touch to his shoulder that he can’t really feel through the tactical layers, but the weight of Eddie’s hand is enough.

“Thanks, man,” he replies, hesitating only for a moment before bringing his own hand up and resting it on Eddie’s bent knee. He can feel Eddie’s skin under his palm through the rip in the denim, and he absently drags his thumb across it. “So are you.”

It’s probably too forward. They barely know each other, and Steve might be overly familiar with what a crush feels like, but this doesn’t seem like the ideal time to explore that feeling. Although, if they’re going to die tonight, then he might as well let it ripple out in the open while he can.

Eddie drags his gaze away from Steve’s face to look down at his hand on his knee, this breathing a little shallower. Steve doesn’t stop touching him, won’t unless Eddie tells him to. But Eddie doesn’t, he swallows harshly and looks back up at Steve with a question in his eyes that Steve gives a nod and small smile to. They don’t need to talk about it. Either they survive tonight and can talk about it after, when the dust settles, or they don’t and talking wouldn’t make a difference anyway.

Instead, they sit in the quiet calm before the storm, Eddie only moving to brush the hand on Steve’s shoulder across his back to the other side, scooting a little closer to lay his head on the now free shoulder. Steve keeps his hand on Eddie’s knee, moving it just enough to cup the inside of it, holding him a little tighter.

“The sunset is lovely, don’t ya think?” Eddie asks, hushed, like it would shred the little blanket of night that’s folded over them.

“Yeah,” Steve replies, resting his chin on the top of Eddie’s bandana-covered head, wishing it wasn’t there so he could press his lips to Eddie’s hair, feel the curls against his skin, take in his scent if it’s the only chance he’ll get to do so. “It is.”

[penny00dreadful]

Somebody To Love - Part 4

Hey so AO3 went down and that kinda sucked BUT it did allow me to get some writing done soooo... here you go!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 5 Part 6 AO3

The two children Steve had sent to replace him were god damn menaces.

Well, maybe not children but they were still so goddamn young.

And they didn’t let him get away with anything. Standing over him with their arms crossed and twin looks of disapproval on their faces like the god-damn Men in Black of babysitters.

He wasn’t, like, under house arrest or anything. He was still able to get his fix whenever he wanted. He was still able to drink himself into oblivion, but they didn’t handle him with as much care as Steve had.

He had numerous opportunities to go out and get laid six ways from Sunday as well but… he wasn���t really feeling it.

Though he refused to pinpoint why.

“You know, this would have never happened if you’d just show me the list.” Eddie crossed his own arms, trying to put as much petulant haughtiness into his tone as he could muster, lying where he landed in the grass of his back garden with his pants around his ankles. At least his underwear had stayed on.

This time.

How did he get there?

Didn’t matter.

That tree was out to get him. Fuck that tree. That tree was no longer his number two favourite climbing tree. It had been bumped down to number eight to go along with the tree that dropped an apple on his head like he was Newton and the tree that had covered him in sticky sap that took forever to get off.

The woman, Max, who perpetually had her red hair in a long braid down her back, cocked an eyebrow at him. “I don’t ever remember telling him he couldn’t see the list." She said with an air of nonchalance, looking over at her co-babysitter. "Do you, Dustin?”

“You know, I think you’re right, Max." Dustin matched her tone. "I think Eddie just assumed he wasn’t allowed to see it and ran with it.”

“Hey, fuck you, man." Eddie pointed up at him. "You're supposed to be on my side. Nerds of a feather.”

"I'm on the side of the truth. Like any good scientist."

"You're a babysitter."

Dustin shrugged. "And I have hobbies."

Max rolled her eyes. “Pull your pants back up like a good little boy and I’ll show you the list.”

“I could fire you on the spot, Red, don’t test me.”

She bent low, placing her hands on her knees so she was looming menacingly over him.

“Do it." She grinned down at him. "I fucking dare you.”

Eddie scoffed. "Whatever." 

But he did still stand, bucking his pants back up.

Despite everything he was loath to admit he really liked those two. They didn't take any of his shit and they treated him like a human person rather than some mythical celebrity they had to bow and scrape to.

He held his hand out expectantly.

“Oh, we don’t have it on us.” Max said, her eyes glittering with malicious glee. “It’s on the kitchen counter.”

“Fuck off 'it’s on the kitchen counter.'”

“No, it is.” Dustin nodded. “We put it there last week.”

“We’re keeping a running tally for how many times you’ve walked past it.”

“I think we’re up to fifteen now?”

Eddie did not stomp his foot. “That’s so not fair! You know I’m off my meds!”

“You’re off your meds because of the amount of recreational shit you imbibe. That’s on you." Dustin poked him in the chest. "Maybe if you were sober for five minutes you’d have noticed it.”

Eddie turned his back on them and started to make his way towards the house. They might have had a point as to why he was off his ADHD meds but Eddie was a stubborn fucker so he’d never admit it to them.

He snatched up the list that he genuinely only just noticed for the first time because it was pointed out to him and eagerly read through Steve’s recognisable handwriting.

It was a lot shorter than he thought it would be but also it kind of covered everything?

Make sure he keeps himself alive.

Don’t let him do stupid shit.

Don’t let him kill himself with:

Alcohol poisoning.

Drug overdose.

Some super fucked up STD.

Eating shellfish by accident again.

Chasing a balloon into traffic or whatever.

If you have to put him in a protective bubble, do it.

Max, if he gets mean, get meaner.

Dustin, if he tries to worm his way out of listening to you by claiming to be ‘cool’, remind him of the time he wore a plain black suit to the Met Gala-

“Okay!” Eddie shouted into the kitchen around him, slamming the list back down with a smack. “Low fucking blow, Steve!”

“I mean, it’s true isn’t it?” Max pointed out, pulling herself up to sit on the counter.

“Listen,” he ran a hand through his hair, keeping his volume high, “It was one time and it was my first Met, I was nervous, alright?! Plus! It wasn’t even a plain black suit, it was Chanel, hello??” He waved his hand around. “It had accessories??”

Dustin leaned his elbows on the counter and rested his chin in his hands. “Steve wore yellow.”

“Yes, I know Steve wore yellow-”

“He wore a beautifully cut little yellow suit with a cape and he wasn’t even there as your plus one,” Max smirked, “he was there as your assistant and he was still better dressed than you.”

“Alright-”

“Rhianna complimented him. Said great minds think alike.”

“She was in nothing but a cape so-” Eddie threw his head back in offence. “Whatever, good luck keeping up with me, children. I’m gonna go find some prawns or some scallops and you two,” he pointed at each of them in turn, “can explain my big fat puffy face to Steve when he gets back in a few days.”

Neither of them were even remotely phased.

Eddie was practically rattling by the time Steve was due to fly back in from… wherever he’d been. Even though he probably wouldn’t see him immediately.

Like, the guy had his own home to go to, his own stuff to get reacquainted with.

His own platonic soulmate to reunite with.

So why would he call over? Steve had his own life. He had no... no obligation to come see Eddie immediately.

And that was fine.

Eddie would see him tomorrow, more than likely.

So it was no big deal.

It was fine.

It had been nearly a month since they’d spoken. It was the longest stretch of time they’d gone apart in… Jesus nearly ten years?

And Eddie had handled it fine. 

He had been so normal about it.

It wasn’t like he’d been missing a limb.

It wasn’t like half his heart had been ripped out and shipped off on a plane to wherever.

Wasn't like he'd been thinking about Steve every day, every night, every spare fucking moment he had.

Why would he?

He was... it was all... everything was fine.

He was sitting in his basement studio, plucking a stream of consciousness on his guitar that sometimes crystallised into something coherent and sometimes was something that was stuck in his head.

He looked like a ratty mess, the same worn out pyjama pants and band tees that had been with him ever since he lived in a trailer park in rural Indiana.

They were comfort clothes more than anything at this stage.

His hair… he couldn’t be dealing with his hair right now, it seemed to be out to irritate him on that particular day. Every time a strand brushed against his neck or his cheek it made him want to crawl out of his skin. He’d yanked it violently up onto the top of his head, but each repeated, frustrated shoving of a stray strand back into the bun just caused more to fall out.

He was trying desperately to distract himself but his blood was itching for… something.

He hadn’t had a good fix in a while, he wanted to be sober and clear headed for when he saw Steve again but the heightened anxiety really wasn’t helping the situation. He didn’t usually get so twitchy when he was sober, but then again, he couldn’t really remember the last time he’d been actively trying to stay away from everything. 

And maybe that shocked him a little more than it should.

Maybe it scared him just the right amount.

But it could easily be a losing battle because there were hidden nooks and crannies everywhere in his house holding some kind of mind altering substance in them. Even on the couch in his studio he could probably reach down in between the cushions and pull out a baggy of pills he'd forgotten down there at some point. He didn’t even know what half the pills he found dotted around were anymore, they could be sugar for all he knew but they were there and they wouldn’t stop whispering to him.

He wasn’t even conscious of what he was playing. It was only when he realised he was muttering lyrics to himself that he figured out what was living in his brain and automatically spilling out around him.

Somebody (Somebody) Ooh, somebody (Somebody) Can anybody find me somebody to love?

Eddie softly snorted to himself, a little self deprecatingly. Oh, the irony, he thought, especially considering-

“That’s my favourite.”

Eddie whipped around to see Steve fucking Harrington leaning against the door of his studio.

He looked, well, there was no word for it other than glowing. His skin was darker, his hair a touch lighter, the dusting of freckles over his nose had exploded in volume and pigmentation and he looked good. He looked so good. 

More than that, it was like he’d brought the sunlight back with him because he’d clearly been somewhere sunny, maybe on a tropical beach somewhere. Somewhere that suited him as a person.

It was like the smell of the ocean entered the room with him.

“Stevie!” Eddie shot up from the couch, discarding his guitar a little carelessly before all but throwing himself at him, arms and legs wrapped around him, clinging on for dear life. “You’re back! You’re here!”

Steve stiffened up momentarily, unusually, before relaxing into it, holding him tight. “I’m here.” He muttered softly into Eddie’s neck.

“Tell me everything sweetheart, how was it? Where did you go? What was it like not to have to run around after an overgrown toddler such as myself-?” Eddie pulled away with a smile, back on solid ground but his grin faltered when he noticed Steve’s own smile had an almost sad tilt to it.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong.” He shrugged off Eddie’s concern. “Went to Hawaii. It was a good time, I’d recommend it to you but I don’t know how well your skin would be able to take that much sun.” He laughed. It was almost performative. He wouldn’t meet Eddie’s eyes anymore. “Met some people. Had some fun. You know, vacation stuff. How were Dustin and Max, could they keep up with you?”

Eddie swallowed and tried not to let the cold wash of emotion completely pull him under. “You- you met some people, huh?” He was going for light. He really was going for light, but it came out just a touch too shaky to really pull it off.

“Yeah.”

“What kind of people?”

“I dunno, people. You know, vacation people.”

Eddie nodded and tried to shove everything, everything he was feeling far, far away. He had no right to feel so heartbroken, he didn’t.

Steve was… he deserved to let loose.

And if that meant meeting some people while away on vacation, that was none of Eddie’s god-damn business. After all, it was nothing compared to what he’d been doing to Steve for years.

“Right.”

Steve frowned at him. “What’s with the face?”

“What face?”

“That face.” He circled his finger around Eddie’s head. “You look like I just killed your dog.”

Eddie shook his head. “Did you find what you were looking for? Out there?”

There was a pause.

“I thought I did.” Steve crossed his arms. “I thought I had… escaped it, I suppose? But,” he sighed, “I think I know now it’s going to be with me forever.”

He looked up again, fixing Eddie with that same sad smile, like Eddie couldn’t see right through him, like he couldn’t tell. But how long had Steve been looking at him like that and how many times had Eddie not seen it?

Steve had thought he'd escaped him.

Or escaped his soul-crushing and unrequited love.

But was it even unrequited?

Last month Eddie would have been sure the answer was an unfortunate yes, it was unrequited.

But now he wasn't so sure.

The last month without Steve had been torture.

Steve had left on vacation to escape Eddie's effect on him, had met up with vacation people and thought it had worked...

Then he came back and...

Eddie needed to sit down.

He dropped himself heavily back down on the couch and put his head in his hands.

“Sounds like some kind of tragic love story.” He muttered into the space between them.

“Yeah.” Steve’s voice was soft. “I think it is.”

Eddie looked up at him, heart breaking in two just from how resigned to his fate Steve sounded and Eddie could feel it. He could feel it, like he knew, like he felt the same, like he’d been… for all this time…

“What were you escaping?” He asked, his voice smaller than he was used to hearing it. It was a dick question, it was a hard question to even get out but he had to know.

He had to be sure.

Because if he was sure then maybe…

Steve looked at him with his big sad eyes and his resigned posture and defeat written all over his figure. “Please don’t ask me that.”

“Stevie-”

“No. Please, Eddie. I… I can’t.”

“Why?” He pushed the word out into the air like it had personally offended him. “Why can’t you just talk to me about this? Why can’t you tell me? We tell each other everything. You’ve never hidden anything from me.”

Steve laughed, some cold, sad, biting thing. “Eddie, I've been hiding this thing from you for years.”

“But, please, Stevie, I need to know. I need you to tell me. Because, I don’t know. Maybe-” Eddie reached out, trying to grasp at Steve’s hand but Steve pulled back violently.

Like Eddie could burn him with just a touch.

“Don’t. Just- I can’t tell you, you know why I can’t tell you!”

“No, I don’t!” And Eddie really didn’t. Why was this so hard, why was it so hard for him to just… admit it?

“Because!” Steve stood in front of him, sudden and frantic, like a man who’d been clinging onto his last threat of patience and sanity and had just lost his grip, hands in his hair and staring at Eddie with wide glistening, pleading eyes. “Because I’d have to leave! I couldn’t stay if I did tell you! It would- it would be unethical and unprofessional-”

“Stevie, you know you’re more to me than an employee.”

“Yes, I do, but…” Steve deflated all at once, the very soul inside him crumpling under the weight of everything. “But what would happen if I did tell you?” He whispered, swallowing around a lump in his throat. “We’d try to continue on as normal but now there’s this thing hanging over every interaction we have from now until forever and you’ll start to get uncomfortable and it’ll be a thing. And you’ll never be able to look at me as just a friend anymore and I’ll get so distracted I won’t be able to do my job and I’ll have to go, for both our sakes and that would kill me, Eddie. I need you in my life like I need fucking air, as fucked up and infuriating as you are, I need you in my life.”

“But,” Eddie was making a valiant effort to will away the lump in his own throat. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d ever felt so unsure about something, like every word had the power to destroy if he picked the wrong one. Like everything around them was ready to shatter like a Prince Rupert’s drop if touched the wrong way. “What if that doesn’t happen? What if… what if we gave it a go…?”

Steve somehow slumped even more, dragging his hands down from his hair to cover his face, another laugh breaking out of his lungs that was clearly mingled up with a sob. “That would be even worse.” He murmured. 

“How could that possibly be worse?! Would it really be so bad to be in a relationship with me?”

“Yes, Eddie!” Steve hissed, glaring at him with red, shiny eyes. “Yes, it would! Because I know you. You don’t do relationships. Any ones you have had you’ve imploded before they go anywhere past semi-serious and I cannot do that. I cannot be given a taste and then just have to go the rest of my life without it because you got bored or self-destructive or realised it wasn’t what you wanted, that I-”

Steve abruptly cut himself off and dug the heels of his hands into his eyes again. “I can’t do it, Eddie. If I just became another notch… I don’t think I’d ever recover. It would destroy me.”

Eddie put his own head in his hands again, ignoring the jerking movements of his bouncing knee. The worst part was that he couldn’t disagree with what Steve had said about his attitude with people, about how he treated those he was with. 

He couldn’t even be angry or defensive about it because it was true. It was so true the both of them knew it was plainly factual, there was no point arguing.

Anyone he’d ever had a relationship with before, he’d either dropped once the shine had worn off, or shoved away using cutting words or sunk himself so deep into drugs and alcohol it was a miracle Steve had ever been able to drag him out.

Because it was always Steve dragging him out. It was always Steve listening to him bitch and moan about how love was for fantasists, no one was ever happy in relationships, having to cut themselves down by half to accommodate someone else, how he’d never catch himself in that trap for as long as he lived, how he’d swear off ever chaining himself down to bullshit monogamy again.

Until the next pretty face or bouncy ass walked by.

Of course Steve would think that about him. Eddie thought that about himself. Believed it about himself until very, very recently, when even the thought of Steve leaving his life forever sent a cold spike of dread and desperation through him.

“Okay,” Eddie rubbed his face. “But, what if… How do I- what if I prove it to you?”

Steve inhaled deeply then exhaled harshly toward the floor and dragged his hands away from his eyes. His face was blotchy and wet and miserable, his eyes were raw red and resigned. 

“Prove what?”

“That I…” Eddie dragged a hand through his hair, gripping on tight. “That I want to be serious about this. That I- if I get a chance, if you give me a chance to have you, that I’m going to keep you. Forever.”

Steve shook his head. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Eds.”

“I’ll keep it.” Eddie raised his head, meeting Steve’s eyes again and trying to will his sincerity across the room. “I’ll always keep it with you. If you love me like I suspect you do, I’m gonna work every god-damned day to keep that promise. Because I think I’ve been in love with you for just as long-”

“Please,” Steve’s voice cracked, harsh and painful sounding, “don’t say that if you don’t mean it-”

“I mean it.” He clasped his hands in front of him, almost begging Steve to hear him. To understand just how serious he was. “I swear on everything I hold dear, I mean it. I swear on my guitar I mean it.”

Steve looked so… he looked so hurt. Like everything he’d been hiding from himself, everything he’d been hiding from Eddie for so long, for years was all coursing through him at full force.

Steve crossed his arms over his chest and considered him.

“I’ll think about it.” His voice was quiet, but it wasn’t so despairing as it had been.

Eddie stood. He wanted to get closer, he wanted to wrap Steve up in his arms and never let go, he wanted to make it better but he didn’t dare move any closer.

“What do you need?”

“I don’t know. I think right now I just need a little time. And space. Again. I might have to extend my vacation just for a few more days. To get my head on straight.”

“Yeah, of course.” Eddie exhaled, rubbing a hand over his forehead. “Whatever you need, baby.”

A wounded, painful sound was pulled from Steve’s throat against his will and Eddie flinched backward.

“Jesus, shit. I’m sorry. Fuck, I’m sorry.”

Steve just shook his head, not meeting his eyes anymore. 

“Dustin and Max will be back tomorrow morning.” Steve didn’t raise his eyes again, keeping them firmly on the ground as he picked up his bag.

Eddie could only whisper out a small ‘okay’. He felt like if he said or did anything else, Steve might shatter into a million tiny pieces and he couldn’t- he wouldn’t let that happen.

The same way it had happened a month ago, Eddie watched Steve leave the room, staring at the door long after he’d gone.

But even though it was the same this time, it was also different.

Because now he had a terrible hope building in his chest.

Now he had work to do.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 5 Part 6 AO3

It was Chanel, hello?? It had accessories??

An idea of Steve's yellow suit

And, of course, Rhianna's iconic cape

This is the video I watched to visualise Eddie playing away in his basement studio. Watch it and let your mind wander 🤭 (specifically 1:23 is the part Eddie is playing in the fic)

@lifeisnotsobadonceyoustopcaring, @child-of-cthulhu, @sweetwaterangel, @anaibis, @katytheinspiredworkaholic, @littlewildflowerkitten, @hallucinatedjosten, @estrellami-1, @gregre369, @stxrcrossed186, @novelnovella, @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme, @hellowhatthehellisgoingonhere, @thesuninyaface, @messrs-weasley

[twola]

WIP WIP, come get your WIP!

Passerine, Ch 4. 🤠

Your spry gelding has been woefully neglected, you being unable to ride the way you want. He stands bored amongst the other horses, listless while you can’t give him a good run.

“Kieran.”

The poor boy almost drops his coffee, fear alight in his eyes for a moment. “Y-yes ma’am? Does Mr. Morgan need anythin’?”

“What, Arthur? No. I’m asking for a favor.”

“O-oh! Of course! What d’ya need?”

“It’s been a while since my boy’s had a hard ride… obviously I can’t-” you motion to your abdomen.

“Oh, oh! A-absolutely. I can take ‘im out for a ride.”

“Well I was wondering if I could come along… maybe just to get out of camp and watch you run him in the field. I’m so bored here.” You sigh.

“You sure that Arthur ain’t gonna come after us?” Kieran asks concernedly.

“I’m sure it ain’t any of Arthur’s business. Besides, it won’t be like we’re going far. Maybe on the other side of that old battlefield near the Braithewaite’s land. Plenty of room out there.” You scowl, offended that Kieran insinuated you needed Arthur’s permission to function. God, you were pregnant, not an invalid.

Kieran looks hurriedly to the ground before quickly shuffling over toward to your horse, who finally picks up his head and whinnies excitedly as his reins are untied from the hitching post.

You follow, smiling and brushing down your horse’s mane, whispering sweet affections to him as Kieran adjusts the saddle. After a few moments, he steps back to allow you to get yourself up on the horse.

Okay, maybe you were a bit invalid right now.

“Uh, can you… help me a bit?”

Kieran blazes red for a moment before nodding, awkwardly placing his hands on your waist and helping heave you up on the horse’s rump. He climbs into the saddle and meekly leads the two of you toward the old battlefield and the road toward Braithwaite Manor.

After a slow, hot walk to the open meadow, the two of you finally reach it. He quietly helps you slide off the horse’s rump and into the long grass of the meadow, where you take a few steps to stand under the shade of a tree.

Kieran then digs his spurs into your gelding’s side and the horse bolts, rearing before galloping off through the meadow. You lean against the tree, idly rubbing your hand over your growing stomach as you watch Kieran ride your horse hard, getting a good run out of him. It’s a good half hour of circling the meadow at various speeds before they slowly plod back you to.

“Ah, there’s my boy!” You pat his mane affectionately as your gelding pants, satisfied. Kieran leans on the pommel with one arm, smiling for once.

“He’s a good boy. I can make sure I take ‘im out every couple days for a run-” The man frowns slightly again, “with your permission, of course, ma’am.”

You nearly roll your eyes at him.

“First, you’re doin’ me a favor, stop calling me ma’am. Second-”

A gunshot cracks far too close to you and your gelding rears, screeching as Kieran tries to calm him. You’ve stumbled back a few steps, clutching at your belly with one hand.

“Kieran Duffy, you’re a goddamn dead man!”

[chaotic-mystery]

Not A Survivalist Girl: Part 3

“Mr. Fucking Piece of Work Miller”

Written by @chaotic-mystery & @tightjeansjavi

(Joel Miller x f!reader)

Summary: Joel Miller lives a life alone. It's the way he likes it. After losing his daughter 13 years ago, and his brother Tommy ditching him for the fireflies out west, he doesn't have much sympathy, nor care for what remains of civilization. That is..until he meets you in the woods one cold night. How stupid could you really be to light a fire, and put yourself in imminent danger.

Warnings: implied age gap, canon typical violence (eventually) slow burn, mean! Joel, dark! Joel, is literally just a grumpy old asshole!Joel, sunshine reader, no survival skills but she's doing her best, Joel is a loner, mentions of depression, PTSD, trauma, childloss, angst, grumpy vibes, some degradation, nicknames, teasing, eventual smut, (+18) minors dni!

WC: 3.1k

At dawn's impending approach, Joel was still wide awake. He didn’t sleep much these days anyway. His eyes were dry, and crusty and his back ached from sitting on a log all fucking night. The pain reminded him that he was still alive, that he was still breathing. There was frost coating the dry grass in little ice crystals and the fire from the night before had completely died out. Not even the morsels of hot embers remained. Joel was freezing but he would be damned if he’d wrap himself up in your stupid fluffy pink blanket. That was until his teeth started to chatter, and he could see his cold puffs of air. With a grumble of pure annoyance, he wrapped his broad frame in the fluffy blanket. He wasn’t happy about it but what choice did he really have?

As you climbed out of your tent and slowly made your way to Joel, your eyes fell on your pink blanket that was draped around his broad shoulders. “Good morning, I uh- I see you found my blanket.” You cleared your throat and crossed your arms over your chest for warmth. The morning sun was barely peeking over the horizon, the air nipping at your cheeks. Joel immediately took the blanket off of him like it had something wrong with it and practically shoved it in your arms as he stood up in front of you.

Joel responded with a grunt as he slowly stood up from the log, bringing his hand to his lower back as he tried to stretch it out. Goddamn log. Goddamn stupid fucking fluffy pink blanket. Goddamn stupid cans hanging from a fucking tree. Goddamn birds chirping. Goddamn. Goddamn. Goddamn. You looked cute in the morning. That was for goddamn sure.

“So are you really not going to let me come with you? I can be so helpful to you and you don’t even want to consider that?” You were trying to make him a great offer, but he instantly called your bluff.

Joel scoffed under his breath as he straightened out his back before reaching down and grabbing ahold of his rifle that was resting along the log. “Now why the hell would I let you come with me, girlie? You don’t got shit to fuckin’ offer me. Except for another body to look out for and a mouth to feed. Do I really come across as the charitable type? Cause I sure as hell ain’t.”

Your eyes looked up as you were taking in his answer like you could see it working through your brain. “That's…very true, but think of it this way: you can show me how to shoot guns, use knives better, I can look out when we go hunting so you can actually get some sleep and not be a grouchy ass man! It’s perfect and we both win!” The singsong tone you had going on was getting on his last nerve and you loved it.

Joel chucked under his breath as he cocked his rifle, slinging it over his shoulder. “You? Look out for me? That’s cute darlin’. Absolutely fuckin’ adorable actually that you think I have any use for you. The hell am I supposed to do with your ditzy self and that fuckin’ pink blanket, Hm? Enlighten me girlie.”

As your mind raced for a useful response, you started to panic as he was losing patience quickly. “I just don’t want to be left by myself anymore and I know for a fact I can be helpful to you if you teach me, please..I don’t know where to go from here. It’s a miracle I’ve lasted this long but I’ll do anything, I’ll listen to everything you say.” Your twiddling thumbs came to a stop with your sentence as you met his eyes, showing him how serious you were being.

Joel pinched the bridge of his nose, taking a deep breath as he squeezed his eyes shut momentarily and muttered something unintelligible through gritted teeth. The truth was, Joel had spent all fucking night going over the pros and the cons of taking you with him. Unbeknownst to you, he just wanted to see how far you would go to insure your own safety. Leaving you out here to fend for yourself was certainly a death warrant. You were the first living person he had come across in months and perhaps the company wouldn’t be entirely awful. He also just couldn’t stand to face the flashing images in his head of you being torn apart by clickers, or worse.

The silence started to put fear in your heart, not really sure if he’d change his mind and let you tag along with him to wherever the hell he was going. The truth was just that: you needed him. Somehow his scary presence he tried so hard to put forward wasn’t scary to you, it actually made you want to know more about him. You tucked some of your hair behind your ear and crossed your arms slowly as you waited for his response, preparing yourself to hear him tell you no.

“You’ll listen to everything I say? No questions asked? You’re damn right it’s a miracle that you have lasted this fuckin’ long out here girlie. You clearly got some fight left in ya.” I can’t believe I’m about to do this. Joel internally said to himself. Allowing you to travel with him was going to take some time getting used to. An adjustment that would come with all the bumps, and nitty gritty shit along the way.

“You can come with me girlie. I’ll keep you safe, and I’ll teach you everything you need to survive. Don’t go and get all excited just yet cause I got some fuckin’ ground rules. First, you listen to everythin’ I tell ya to do, got it? Whatever I say goes and trust me, you ain’t gonna want to start arguin’ with me. If I tell you to run? You fuckin’ run. If I tell you to shoot? You fuckin’ shoot. Finally, if you get bit, just realize right now that I’m gonna have to kill ya. I’d make it quick, painless before the cordyceps spread. Do yourself a favor and do not get bit. Alright?” Joel spoked sternly, he wanted to instill a bit of fear into you. Some tough love if you will. He hoped to god that he’d never have to kill you under any circumstances.

“Thank fucking god, you didn’t have to wait so long to say that, this isn’t some movie where we need dramatic effects!” You let out a huge fake sigh and sarcastically wiped your forehead, trying to play it off that you weren’t actually scared.

“How about you just say fuckin’ thank you for me saving your goddamn life? Don’t make me change my mind, girlie. Those clickers are still gonna be lookin’ for a snack.” Joel grumbled before he reached into his bag and pulled out a small pistol. “You know how to use one of these things girlie? Or would you prefer a knife? Pick your poison cus’ I got lots of it.”

“Thank you oh so very much kind sir, how ever will I repay you?” You mocked in a terrible southern accent. You thought about all the options he listed and decided on the knife, holding out your hand for him. There was no turning back now, you were in it. You were here and you had to listen to everything he says, but where's the fun in that?

Joel let out a grumbled sigh as he stuffed the pistol back into his backpack before retrieving a decent sized combat knife and handed it over with the blade pointing towards the ground. “Try to not hurt yourself with this, alright sweetheart? She’s pretty sharp.”

“Well if I do hurt myself I have plenty of bandages to use, I’ll just need a hand with it probably” you teased and observed the knife, your thumb brushing over the sharp blade gently. “So where are we going now? Don’t really think you want to stay here after killing all those clickers last night.” Even when he grumbled and talked to you as if you didn’t know a fucking knife was sharp, he was still growing on you. Sure you only met him last night, but you weren’t afraid to admit he was easy on the eyes.

Joel let out a deep sigh as he zipped up his bag. It had only just dawned upon him that he was going to have to share a space with a whole other human being now. His cabin was his safe space. His solace. His home. The fact of reality was he didn’t really want to have to share his space, but what choice did he really have? He promised to protect you and stubborn as he may be, he was a man of his word. “Well, I’ve uh—got a cabin 10 miles west of here. It’s a bit of a hike so I hope you ain’t gonna complain too much about bein’ on your feet.”

“You have a cabin? Why didn’t we go back to it last night instead of sleeping out in the fucking cold?” You start to take the supplies from inside your tent out as you wait for his response. After the third item you put outside the tent, you felt like he was judging so you wrapped everything else in your sleeping bag and rolled it shut, setting it outside in a ball. “Regardless why we didn’t go back, I can’t go to someone’s cabin who won’t even tell me their name, ya know?” The desperation was apparent, you just wanted to know his name.

“Use your head, girlie. Why the hell would I take a total stranger back with me in the middle of the night? Like I said earlier, I ain’t a charitable person. Plus if you knew any better, traveling at night, is by far one of the dumbest things to fuckin’ do out here.” He stated as a matter of factly. Course she wants to know my name. “It’s Joel. My name is Joel. Don’t go and wear it out, cus’ I jus’ have a feelin’ that you will girlie.”

The sound of his name just sparks something inside you, you feel your heart racing a little more now that you finally have a name with a face. “Joel..I like that. It suits you.” I definitely will be wearing it out though, in more ways than one, you thought quietly to yourself. Maybe it was your daddy issues or maybe because you haven’t been around humans in forever, but he set your body on fire, regardless of how much older he was than you.

“You’re a weird one, you know that girlie? It’s just an average Joe’s name. Ain’t nothin’ special about it.” He grumbled under his breath as he slung his backpack over his shoulder. “C’mon, we gotta get movin’ and I don’t plan on takin’ any rest breaks.” He strode past you, giving you a light shoulder check.

As you walk for what feels like forever, you finally make it to his cabin. It’s quaint but still beautiful and bigger than you thought it would be. “Holy shit, Joel! Did you build this yourself? This is amazing.” You compliment as your hand runs over the smooth wooden beam of the porch.

By the time you and Joel arrived at the cabin, Joel’s back was aching, and his boots felt way too tight but he did a good job of hiding it, especially when he was so close to having a stiff glass of whiskey. “Yeah I uh..built it. Took a bitch in a half, but it’s pretty sturdy. Hold your horses though, alright? I need to check to make sure the area is safe. Almost had a nasty run in with some raiders last month so I’ve taken some extra precautions.” He was already cocking his rifle, using his freehand to grasp your arm and yank you behind him protectively.

You’d be lying if you said him putting you behind his back while he looks for anything out of the ordinary didn't scare you. No one had ever been that protective over you though, the way his hands cocked his gun so fast, he didn’t hesitate to take the right measures to ensure your safety. It was hard not to admire him for his bravery. “Yeah I think I’ll just stay riiight back here, behind you.” You whispered and crouched behind him so all you could see was his back. You grabbed the bottom of his shirt to keep you following the right direction as you were close to him at all times.

Joel lightly smacked your hand away, turning his head slightly to look down at you with a narrowed glare. “Cut that shit out. How the hell am I gonna protect us if you’re grippin’ on me like that? Jus’ stay right here, and do not move till I say you can. You got that girlie?” He harshly whispered.

“What? No! You can’t leave me here by myself!” You half-whispered back at him as you dropped your hands to your side. There was a small chance someone could come out right now and stab you to death, leaving you to die in your own pool of blood and he wouldn’t even know it because he thought leaving you alone was a good idea.

“Shuddup. You’re gonna be fine! Just lay low and don’t make a fuckin’ sound.” He whispered as he glanced over his shoulder once more, giving you a reassuring small nod that everything was gonna be just fine. It was always just better to be safe, than sorry. He quietly climbed up the wooden steps, taking a small breath as he slowly pushed open the door handle to the cabin, aiming his gun around the expanse of the entryway. He meticulously checked every room in the small cabin before he made his way back to the front door, pushing it open as he peeked his head out. “Alright, girlie. Coast is clear. We’re safe.”

“Don’t do that shit again, not until you’ve taught me how to defend myself, buddy.” You said annoyed at your own fear making your skin crawl as you put your hand on his chest and pushed past him into his cabin.

“What the fuck did ya just say to me girlie?” Joel grasped your upper arm firmly around his calloused palm, stopping you in your tracks. “Keep that fuckin’ attitude up with me and you’ll be sleepin’ outside like a goddamn dog sweetheart.” His words were harsh, bitter down to the very bone.

“Let go of me, just show me where I’m sleeping, please I’m tired.” You knew you should apologize for your fear making you be so mean but fuck he didn’t need to be so harsh. You looked him in the eye as you tried to tug your arm away, not succeeding in the slightest.

Joel inhaled deeply, exhaling as his nostrils flared out. His grip loosened along your upper arm till it was gone completely. “Fine. Would a thank you fuckin’ hurt? I’m gonna have to teach you some fuckin’ manners.” He gritted through his teeth, striding past you. His boots were heavy along the wooden floor as he walked further into his home.

You rolled your eyes out of his sight and sighed, following him loosely. He could make you sleep on the floor if he really wanted you to, to which you’d lock him out of his bedroom and sleep in his bed. Then who’d be the one sleeping on the floor, Mr.Asshole? “Oh I have manners and I use them with people who deserve them. You, however, do not. Feel free to teach me anything else though, I’m a quick learner.”

“Oh my god, my poor poor heart. That really hurts me, girlie. Go on and twist the knife deeper, why don’t ya?” He scoffed under his breath as he walked down the hall before making an abrupt stop at the first room on the right. He shoved the door open with a small grunt. “This is where you’ll be sleepin.’ It ain’t much, but the bed is decent. Bathroom is down the hall. Don’t expect 5 star service either. Still workin’ on getting proper plumbing.”

“Well thank you, I will be sure to leave a review tomorrow morning, depending how the night goes. Thank you, and I’m sorry.” You hated saying sorry, but it was in your best interest to at this moment. You reached out to touch his arm, just to show him you meant no harm.

“Uh huh. You’re so very welcome.” His tone was laced with sarcasm and as soon as you reached out to touch his arm, he instinctively moved back. Joel was not an intimate person. Well, not on the surface at least. Even so, that part of him had died a long time ago. He wasn’t about to welcome it back in with open arms. “Get some sleep.” Was the last thing he said before he retreated from the open doorway. He grabbed his bottle of whiskey from the makeshift kitchen area, not even bothering to grab a glass before he took a large swig, muttering under his breath. The front door could be heard slamming shut shortly after as he went to stack wood on the log rack. His muscles ached, and his back was sore but these were things that Joel Miller had grown accustomed to. He’d rather suffer through physical pain than deal with his emotions.

As you made your way to the guest room, you noticed his room was right next to yours. Looking around for Joel in sight when you finally saw him outside carrying firewood to fill the log rack on the side of the cabin, you slipped in his room just for a moment. There was a framed photo of a younger version of Joel and a young girl was sitting on his nightstand, he was covering her eyes as the photo was being taken. She had a beautiful smile and this was a whole different version of Joel you didn’t even think existed. Context clues were telling you something bad had happened, but now was not the time to pry. Setting the pink duffle bag on the ground, you quickly grabbed your blanket from inside, fluffed it out and folded it so it was just the right size to lay at the end of the bed for him to use tonight. Regardless of what he said, he liked your blanket and he’d never admit it, and this was your peace offering for not having manners.

[ourtearsofrain]

Chapter 19- And Will We Know When the End is Near?

Pairings: Danny Wagner x Sam Kiszka

Genre: angst, fluff ish

Word Count: just over 1.9k

Warnings: AU typical events/threats/violence

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Sam

Monday, July 18th

The second Sam opens his eyes, fear crashes over him as he remembers he had fallen asleep more than 50 feet off the ground, with Danny’s arms still wrapped around him the only thing keeping him from falling. As he begins to panic, he feels Danny tighten his embrace, offering him some comfort as he’s quick to reassure him. “Hey, hey, hey, Sammy. It’s ok, you’re ok. I promised I wouldn’t let you fall.”

“Can we just- can we please get down now?” In his fear and panic, Sam had screwed his eyes shut, and the feeling only grows as he feels Danny shift behind him, not knowing what the other man was doing.

“Yeah, looks like the water’s cleared out, we should be safe now. Don’t move, I won’t let you fall, remember.” Sam only nods frantically as he feels Danny pull himself up behind him before quickly dropping to sit in front of him. “Take the weapons please.” Doing as he says, Sam keeps his eyes closed as he holds his hands out, gripping the branch below them with his legs until he feels Danny place the handles of each weapon into his hands. Danny says nothing as he guides Sam’s arms around his neck, only tapping his knee once to signal to him that he needed him to hold on with his legs too. Oh my god, how is climbing down worse than climbing up? This is it; this is how I die. I’m going to fall out of this goddamn tree and probably take Danny with me.

“Just breathe, Sammy. We’re almost to the bottom.” Embarrassment floods Sam as he realizes Danny must have felt the way his body tensed and his breaths became shallow and erratic, cursing himself silently for his fear. They’re suddenly jolted to a stop, causing Sam to feel nauseous as his grip around the other man becomes deadly, fearing that they were on the verge of falling out of the tree. “You can let go now, we’re back on the ground.” Sam’s eyes fly open at his gentle tone before he scrambles off Danny’s back, finally feeling at ease with both feet planted firmly on the ground as he takes deep, calming breaths. “You ok?”

“Yeah, I just- I just need a minute.”

“Take as long as you need.” Why is he- how is he so nice? Not only did he just drag my pathetic ass up and down a tree, but he isn’t rushing me when I know that we need to get going. Danny says nothing more as he waits patiently for Sam to calm down, his heart rate returning to normal and his breaths evening out as the minutes tick by.

“Ok, I’m good.”

“Want me to check your arm really quick?” The second Danny draws attention to it, Sam notices the feeling of the damp gauze still wrapped around his arm, the heavy, constant rain having made it impossible for it to dry overnight.

“Yeah, thanks.” As Sam offers his arm out to him, Danny brings his hands up before beginning to gently massage the sides of his forearm, searching for the smallest wince or hint that he was still hurt.

“All good?”

“Still a little sore, but not enough to need the splint.”

“You sure?”

“Yep.” Danny narrows his eyes at Sam, waiting for him to crack and reveal that it was still hurting. When he doesn’t, Danny sets in on unwrapping the wet fabric until his arm is freed from it, his skin damp and uncomfortable in the cool air. “Where are we going next?”

“Listen, before we figure that out, I- I want you to know that I wasn’t hesitant to let you take it off because I don’t trust your word; that’s not it, I promise. I just don’t want you to push yourself and make it worse.” Even though Sam already knew this, the genuine look of sincerity on his face is enough to make his heart melt, an unfamiliar feeling of warmth filling him as he looks at Danny.

“I know, Danny. Don’t worry.”

“Ok, yeah, good. So, uh- where should we go next?”

“We could go back to the forest since we’re right on the edge anyway. I could eat, if you’re feeling up for hunting.”

“Sounds like a plan. I think I can find that little clearing we stayed in with Hazel, it has fresh water and it’s hidden.”

“Lead the way, Danny.” As they set off into the forest with Danny in the lead, Sam suddenly feels the weight of his damp clothes sticking to his skin, the sensation of it driving him mad as he considers shedding a few layers then and there. “After we fill our canteens, I might clean up in that little lake. Let my clothes dry a bit and just scrub the last week of my life off my skin. I feel disgusting.”

“Me too. I had hoped that that rain would help but it just made me feel worse.” At his words, Sam feels a ball of panic form in his stomach, realizing that both of them would more than likely be bathing at the same time. Fuck, what if it makes it weird between us? What if I accidentally look and he hates me? Or he gets angry and tries to attack me? He- he wouldn’t do that. Right?

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It only takes a few hours of hiking to arrive back at the clearing where they had spent their first night together, and relief floods Sam momentarily before he remembers all they needed to do before he could wash off. So much has changed between us, yet everything here is the same. It’s weird. They say nothing as they refill their canteens multiple times, emptying them almost as fast as they had filled them up when their dehydration finally catches up to them. Once he must have drunk enough, Danny’s attention is ripped to the waterfall as his eyebrows furrow, beginning to walk towards it with no explanation.

Sam’s quick to follow, trailing behind him and filled with a mix of confusion and amusement. “What’re you doing?”

“Just checking something. It looks like there’s a cave behind here, I could be wrong though.” As the sound of the waterfall grows louder, Sam figures it would be pointless to try and respond, knowing his words would go unheard over the roar of the water. Sure enough, as they climb over the large rocks at the sides of the waterfall, the rock opens up to reveal a medium-sized cavern, completely hidden in plain sight as the water cascades over its entrance. Sam follows Danny carefully, stepping over each boulder as the light dims.

“How did we not find this earlier?”

“Guess we just weren’t looking hard enough.” Danny drops his bag with a smile, laying his axe down to rest against it as he takes the bow off his back and checks his arrow supply with his free hand. “Stay here, I’ll go get us something to eat.”

“You’re crazy if you think I’m letting you go out there alone.”

“It weighs me down to carry my bag and axe around while trying to hunt, I need someone to stay with them. And your arm is still healing. I won’t be gone long, I promise.”

“My arm is just fine. Besides, we stayed here overnight and didn’t even know this cave was here, if anyone stumbles on the clearing, they won’t see it.” Panic spikes in Sam’s chest at just the thought of letting Danny go alone, a pit already beginning to form in his stomach as he worries something would go wrong.

“Please, Sam. It would make me feel better if I knew you were safe here. You can clean up and rest, I promise I’ll be back in no time.”

Despite everything in him screaming at Sam to not let him go alone, Danny flashes his best puppy dog eyes, his pleading expression crumbling every bit of reasoning Sam had thought of until finally, he gives in. “Fine. But if you aren’t back in two hours, I’m coming after you.”

“I’ll be back before then, I promise.”

Just as Danny turns to leave, Sam catches his wrist, causing the other man to look back at him as confusion twists his features. “And Danny, please- please stay safe.”

“I will, Sammy. I promise.”

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

I must not fear. Fear is the mind killer. Danny had been gone for too long. Sam knew that it hadn’t been longer than two hours, but he still felt uneasy, as if something was wrong. You’re just overthinking. He’s fine. Nothing bad has happened to him. I- I pray that nothing bad has happened to him. I can’t lose him.

He had tried everything to take his mind off Danny as the seconds dragged on. He had cleaned himself off, scrubbed every surface of his body until he felt refreshed, even gave his clothes a little time to dry out. He had braided and re-braided his hair multiple times, just to keep himself busy; and the sight of his sapphire adorned hair tie gave him some comfort, knowing that Danny had the other. He had unpacked their bags, laying each clean rabbit pelt down to make sure they were as comfortable as possible when night fell. And finally, Sam had even cleaned off the pelts and bones that Danny hadn’t had a chance to wash yet, even though he hated scraping the remaining tendons and bodily scraps off.

That’s it, I don’t care that it hasn’t been two hours. I’m looking for him. Sam throws his still damp clothes on before he picks up his sword and leaves the cave quickly, his heart pounding in his chest as he makes his way through the clearing. A cannon boom in the distance stops him in his tracks, feeling as if his heart itself had stopped, his stomach dropping. A second boom snaps him out of his daze, causing him to break into a full sprint to get out of the clearing. Two cannons. One of them- what if one was for Danny. What if he stumbled across another tribute and they- they killed each other. Tears come to his eyes as he leaps over the vines and branches covering the forest floor, blurring his vision. He didn’t know where he was going, he just knew he needed to find him. He needed to find Danny. And he prayed that when he did, he would be safe. That the cannons had been a coincidence. That he wasn’t dead.

A flash of something shiny catches his eye, causing him to screech to a halt as he shoves his hand into the foliage to grab it. His panic only multiplies as he realizes what it was, a wave of nausea crashing over him as his mind spirals. Danny’s braid. It- it’s his hair, his braid, the hair tie I gave him. And it- it’s covered in blood. As his tears pour down his cheeks, he scours the ground for any other trace of him, terror clawing at his insides as he sees a trail of blood leading straight towards what appeared to be a small hill. He can’t get there fast enough as he races towards it, pushing the feeling of his lungs and legs burning in his exertion and panic to the back of his mind. As he darts up the crest of the hill, he finds a clearing at the top it, finally able to see where the end of the blood trail was.

In the center lay a large, male tribute, face down and covered in blood. And although he couldn’t yet see who or what was under him fully, a single hand and forearm could be seen peeking out from under him. Sam had never felt more dread as realization and recognition hits him. ­Danny- that’s Danny’s hand. And it- he’s- he’s covered in blood.

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A/N: Yes, that was a Dune quote; and yes, I wrote this ch before he used it in his posts caption

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Taglist: @jake-whatthefisgoingon-kiszka @milojames16 @gretnavannfleet @aioba1503-sdm @sanguinebats @cheersdannyx2 @musicislove3389 @holdingup-fallingsky @freyjalw @currentlyfangirling10 @hailthegodsong @Maddie-Rae

[according2thelore]

i feel like es dean appearing to sooo prefer ls sam, and clinging to him, and trying to win his approval, and looking up to him (physically & figuratively) is going to give es sam some serious john flashbacks…. i suppose how he handles those depends on whether john is dead yet.

also there’s something about es sam feeling like dean doesn’t love HIM he just loves the idea of family, because as soon as there’s other family around, he’s choosing them. not true of course, but still…

SHIT

YOU'RE SO RIGHT! we gotta talk about it!

one of my favourite things they do in supernatural is draw clear lines between sam and john, and dean and mary.

dean and mary have the parallels between selling their souls for john/sam, and the same self-destructive sacrifice.

sam and john get more easily blinded by fear and anger and purpose. sam&john's grief is miasmic. it's metastatic.

dean wants adam to have a normal life, and sam wants to pull him into the hunt. in that one scene, dean even tells sam he's more like dad than he realizes.

THIS ABSOLUTELY WOULD BRING UP JOHN DRAMA.

if john is alive: ES!Sam is pissed. here dean is proving that he will desperately cling to and value the opinion of someone else over him every time. LS!Sam is certainly a little paternal, and ES!Dean consistently choosing someone else's good opinion (even if that person cannot/will not return his devotion AND ESPECIALLY if that person purposefully hides things from them!!!) over ES!Sam's needs/wants/concerns. it hits too close to home! literally!

if john is dead: ES!Sam is pissed AND devastated. he clocks ES!Dean's preference for paternal figures after john's death with gordon almost immediately, kink-shaming ES!Dean so thoroughly that he has to crawl under a bed in shame.

and to have LS!Sam BE that paternal figure?? talk about mixed feelings! on one hand, he prefers A sam, but THAT sam? brutal. and AS A FATHER FIGURE?? makes for some confusing boners.

there's some of that inadequacy there as well because here dean is choosing someone that at his worst reminds them all of john. ES!Sam is not enough because dean will always need someone else in his life. even as ES!Dean says that dad was a bastard for what he asked me to do, and we didn't deserve that, here he is, wanting and choosing this dynamic, unknowingly and almost compulsively.

ES!Sam tries to be respectful of that, but it infuriates him and makes him feel inadequate and it makes him sad!

(he does not know of course that the only reason dean wants to climb this man like a fucking tree is because he is 800% unadulterated sam, and is also rugged and huge and can throw him around a little if he wanted. rugged man + sam = dean's ideal self-directed porn shoot)

and FOR SAM TO RECOGNIZE HIMSELF AS JOHN???? HOLY FUCK!! COULD YOU IMAGINE??

they're on a hunt or something and one of the deans gets hurt and LS!Sam shuts down. completely. terrifyingly. tears into them for being reckless, for being stupid, for not paying goddamn attention, and what did i tell you, you should've listened to me. and ES!Sam is fucking shaking in fury and rage because that's dad.

this man who wears his face and lies to them and treats them like children when he's angry but like adults when he needs them is who sam will become! it's inevitable! he becomes the thing that he fears!

i'm chewing through my leg!!!!!

i don't think ES!Sam would see ES!Dean's obsession as him not loving ES!Sam, but it would absolutely show ES!Dean's preference for an ideal.

ES!Dean will choose a more compliant, more devoted version of his brother, because he's easier to love. he loves LS!Sam more because he doesn't like being challenged.

in ES!Sam's mind, ES!Dean has to work to love ES!Sam, so why would he bother to put in the effort when there's a version of him that's already so ready to reciprocate and capitulate and can express devotion so easily?

ES!Sam is struggling with the weight of his destiny, and his fear, and he knows that it weighs on dean, too. to have a seemingly idealized version of himself? of course he would be upset by ES!Dean's sudden obsession, and presumed preference.

it rankles, because ES!Sam already feels a little inadequate. as mentioned in one of my last posts, one of sam's only true spaces of belonging is with dean, (in S1 outside of the hunt, but in S2 including it) when they're just being brothers.

and now that they're not hunting with their LS!selves, and all they have is time to sit and interact with each other, that only secure place is suddenly mutable! sam's one true home is mutable!!

he knows ES!Dean loves him, but not as much. he loves him, but not enough to satisfy. he loves him, but he's capable of loving something else more. and isn't that the worst possible scenario?

i know i tend not to have the exact same john opinions as some other folks, but this was a really interesting ask, and i hope you liked reading about it!!

this ask was incredible!! thank you for this ask, anon! your brain is too big. it's HUGE. <3

-lizzy

[zepskies]

So, how would Ben react if he and the reader went clothes-shopping for him and he overhears the saleswomen talking to themselves about how insanely hot he was (and how they’d climb him like a tree, because hello!) While he’s flattered, he sees the reader overhearing them, and she’s visibly annoyed/upset by it? Up to you if she calls them out on it, or spirals and says nothing, or whatever!

Ooooh thank you for this request, my friend!! ❤️❤️

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Female Reader Word Count: 1,100 Warnings: 18+ only! A little smutty towards the end. 😘

Imagine: Getting jealous over this man. 💚

"My clothes are fine," Ben is still insisting, even as you hold up a crisp, black buttoned-down shirt up to his chest in scrutiny.

"You need more stuff in this decade, baby," you tell him. You just think he's taking issue with you picking things out for him.

He doesn't often like to relinquish control, but he's tacitly agreed that you just have a better sense of what's fashionable now. He doesn't mind standing out, but he doesn't want to look out of place either.

And as much as he'd never admit it, he wants to look good.

So you and Ben have been at the mall browsing for the past hour. Express for Men has some interesting finds; you already have a large pile of shirts, jackets, pants, and jeans set aside for him to try on.

Ben has strong opinions, especially on pants. He blatantly refuses skinny jeans, for which you begrudgingly concede. You have to pick your battles with your boyfriend, and this one's not the hill to die on, you think.

So you put down the tight pants in favor of some tasteful dark wash jeans. He eyes this pair also with wariness. "Why the fuck do they have holes in 'em?" he asks.

You have to bite your lip to stop yourself from laughing. "They're ripped jeans."

"On purpose?" he asks.

Oh lord. "Yes, Ben. They're distressed."

"Christ on a cross, so am I. This is what goes for fashion nowadays?"

God, give me fucking strength, you think. But you still smile. "You're gonna look good, I promise you."

So Ben gathers the pile you've created for him, and with a deep sigh, he heads over to the dressing room. There are two saleswomen stationed there. One visibly breathes in at the sight of him as she subtly taps the other one on the hip. Both greet him with bright eyes and smiles. "Hi there! Need a room?" the first one asks.

"Yeah," Ben nods, and she dutifully lets him into the biggest one. It has a cushioned bench and plenty of hooks on the wall for hanging the shirts and pants.

"Need any help laying these out?" she asks. He shakes his head. "No. I'm good, sweetheart."

She giggles a bit, like he's said something funny. "Okay! Well just let me know if you need any help. Like a different size, different color, if you need a belt, or anything like that."

Ben spots her blush and can't help but smile at her indulgently. "Sure." He has no intention of taking her up on her "help," but he knows the effect he has on women. Once she leaves, he closes the dressing room door and starts trying things on.

He's surprised to find he actually likes a lot of what you picked out for him. But then his superior hearing picks up what the women out front are whispering to each other in excitement.

"Oh my God, it's a criminal offense to have that jawline," says the one who helped him. "And that beard? Cut to perfection."

Ben smirks, both in amusement and with a well of pride welling in his chest. Still got it, fuckers.

The other scoffs. "Honey, I'd climb that man like a goddamn tree."

They snicker together, trying and failing to be quiet. "He looks so familiar though, I swear to God."

"Psh. Maybe in your dreams," one teases. The other hums. "Well, he'll definitely be making an appearance tonight...maybe when I'm still awake." Ben raises a brow at that.

"Hmm, looks like he's got a girlfriend though. She picked out all that stuff for him."

He then perks up a bit at the mention of you.

"Ehh, come on. She's gotta be a sister or something. Look at her."

"Aww, don't do that. She's cute."

"Cute doesn't bag a man like that." The other one chortles in response.

Ben frowns. He knew women were petty, but this takes the fucking cake. You're a New York "10," even in your old sweatpants and a bare face.

"What-fucking-ever, bitch. I'm gonna slip him my number. See if he needs any further assistance." Cue more obnoxious giggling.

The other one chimes in. "Ooh, you're bad. But I'm here for it. Get your man, girl."

"Excuse me." Oh, shit. Ben's brows raise of their own accord. That was your voice.

"Yes," one of the saleswomen greets you more professionally.

"I just want to check on how my boyfriend's doing. He's in that room, right?" you ask. Ben hears your tone though. It's clipped, direct, and intentional. He knows then: you definitely heard those twittering broads.

"Yes, right back there," one of the women directs you.

"Thank you," you reply flatly.

Ben smirks as he hears your brusque steps approaching. He checks himself out in the mirror real quick (the white shirt and black pants are simple, but they go well with the black jacket, he thinks). Then he unlocks the door and opens it, right as you were about to knock.

You blink up at him with surprise, and the remnants of a frown.

He leans against the doorframe, looking down at you with a charming smile. "Hey there, beautiful."

Your lips start to form a smile, but it doesn't reach your eyes. "Hey." You take in his current outfit with interest and approval. "Ooh, I like this. You look good...how do you feel in it?"

"Good," Ben says, but his eyes are focused on you. "Come 'ere."

He takes you by surprise when his hand guides you inside the dressing room by the waist. He locks it behind you. You look up at him in askance. He grasps your chin and tilts your face up to him.

"What's the matter?" he asks knowingly.

You raise a brow at him, shaking your head. "Nothing. Come on, did you try on this other stuff?"

Ben keeps a stubborn grip on your chin, so you can't turn away from him. "Don't tell me you're letting those maneating bimbos get to you."

Your eyes go wide and you raise a finger to your lips, reminding him to keep it quiet, but he doesn't give two fucks about that. He sits down on the soft bench and pulls you down with him. You sit across his lap and give him a rueful smile, stroking his cheek.

"I'll let you in on a little secret though," Ben says. Your expression crosses between amusement and intrigue. He leans in close your ear. "Jealousy looks fucking hot on you."

You guffaw in response, playfully smacking his arm.

"Hey, easy on the jacket," he smirks, but he claims you with a kiss. His fingers go to the button on your jeans, undoing it and slowly, torturously, guiding down the zipper. You suck in a breath.

"Ben, we can't," you say. But you're already moaning softly in his ear when his thick fingers begin to rub your pussy through your underwear. You blush at the naughtiness of this, even though the thought just turns you on even more.

He soon moves your panties aside to find your wet, soft heat.

You grip his hair tight, trying to bite your lip against a gasp as his fingers enter you, and begin to pulse inside. Your lower belly coils with heat, especially when his thumb finds your clit.

"We're paying customers," he says, with a deepening smirk. "We can do whatever we damn well please."

At the moment, you find it hard to argue with his logic.

Soldier Boy Masterlist

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[unicyclehippo]

as someone who is also in fever recovery, i send a wish that you feel better and the word: acumen

thank you, feverish friend, i love you i hope you are feeling well <3 this is for you

//

high on the hill where the crows do not fly stands a house and a family that cannot die.

//

'uh - mister pock o'pea?'

there was a man at the door. barely. a young man, an intern in an ill-fitting suit and his first tie, talking to chetney even though he had made it perfectly clear he wasn't to be disturbed or interrupted in his goddamn wallowing. jesus fucking christ. a decade of work gone down the drain.

'what.'

'you got a call. from her.'

chetney didn't lift his head from his stack of files. they smelled of dense paper and ink and stale coffee. it was a scent that had always reassured him; it was the scent of industry, of hard work, of forms and files in triplicate and a paper trail being chased down but now it was just... nothing.

'what the fuck are you talking about?' he sighed. 'listen, if this is about the case, you can tell whoever it is - world news, i bet, they've been up our ass for weeks - tell them that it's over, alright? it's over. we're done.'

'no, sir - it's not a reporter. it's her. briarwood.'

chetney's head snapped up. 'delilah?'

'laudna.'

'laudna,' he repeated, turning the name over in his mouth. he hadn't had many dealings with the woman but those he had, chetney had walked away with a sour taste on his tongue. defeat, always, but also a horrid sinking gut feeling--for himself, for the world, and a little bit for her, too--that she was her parent's daughter through and through. for as bright as she was, there was nothing new in her--she was a creature of her father's design, dressed in her mother's striking fashion and features (and disdain). but this? this was new. 'what did she want?'

'to talk. said she wanted to tell you everything--confess, she said.'

'what?'

'i know. gave us a weird address too.'

'did she say what she wanted in return?'

'no, sir. just that chetney pock o'pea come see her at this address, as soon as possible, and she'd confess.'

chetney smiled wryly. 'does that sound like a trap to you?' he asked, even as he stood and grabbed his coat. at the intern's dumbfounded look, his smile widened. 'call me curious,' he shrugged. 'i've spent half my life chasing this family. ten years i've on this case alone--so if the heir to the throne wants to talk to me...i want to hear what she has to say. oh - but if you don't hear from me by, say, six tomorrow morning...'

'we'll send someone after you.'

'i was going to say look for my body off the coastline because that's plenty of time for the grim ripper to do whatever she wants with me.'

'uh.'

'lighten up, kid. it's a fucking joke.' chetney swung his office door closed, locked it. 'mostly.'

//

the taxi dropped him at the end of the street, refusing to take him any further.

chetney pock o'pea trudged up the hill through a cold mist until he came to a small house--even by today's cramped standards. the pavement leading up to it was cracked. tough weeds had shoved up through the concrete and died. trees had grown in the garden just long enough for their bark to twist into unsettling grimaces and the branches to hang, leafless and menacing. the house itself was old and horrid. it sagged like an ancient pumpkin, insides all rotted away to soft fluff. the stairs did not creak beneath his feet as he climbed onto the porch; instead, they squished, black water seeping out and dripping down into the dead grass.

chetney knocked. there was no answer. he tested the knob - unlocked - and pushed the door open, coughing into the dust that billowed up the instant he did so. it tasted like a billion health code violations.

'hello?'

for a long moment, silence.

chetney stood at the door, tensed, waiting to be attacked. he had his doubts that the woman was even here--why would the heiress step foot into this place, rundown as it was? but he couldn't deny the evidence in front of his eyes. clear as anything - a set of footprints leading deeper into the house, marked distinct against the dust that blanketed every surface.

'hello?' he called again.

the house wasn't large. four rooms, five at a stretch. he could see from his place in the hallway a sitting room directly ahead of him--a low fire crackled but it lent no heat to the chilled space--and there was a kitchen to his left. the door to his right was closed.

a figure moved in the sitting room, standing out of a low chair. it moved away from the firelight, disappearing out of sight. chetney inched backward to the front door - and then laudna briarwood stepped into view, framed by the doorway. her face in deepest shadow as the firelight flickered.

'mister pock o'pea,' she said, and with a tilt of her head the light found her and her welcoming smile and there was nothing unsettling about her at all but chetney still felt every alarm in his system go off. 'i wasn't sure you'd come.'

'yes, you were.'

her smile grew. 'i hoped you would. you've proved yourself remarkably dogged, chasing down my family's dirty laundry, turning over every stone in our path.'

'yeah, well, no point in it anymore. my case is dead. oh relax - i didn't mean it like that, don't look at me like that. just meant the judge's basically come down on your side already, what with the deaths and all. even before all that. was he in your pocket all along?'

'i'm sure i don't know.'

'right. like it wasn't the first thing the grim ripper did when you found out who'd be presiding.'

laudna shook her head. 'perhaps she did. it certainly sounds like her, is certainly within her capabilities. but i truly cannot say for sure - and that isn't why i asked you here.'

'right. you're confessing,' chetney said, and wandered forward into the house. 'boy, i sure would love that. one of you lot on record for something. a dream come fucking true.'

'what a way with words you have, mister pock o'pea.'

'agent.'

'agent,' she amended, and smiled like he was foolish to be concerned with such things. 'well. a dream come true, then. come in, take a seat. can i pour you a drink?'

'no. thanks.'

she led him into the sitting room and gestured for him to take a seat on the couch. he sat. the fabric was cold, a chill beyond the weather. a chill like no one had sat there in a decade. and the house was so small. maybe it was the dust, but he felt like the light of the fire didn't reach as far as it ought to, didn't burn as bright. the air felt heavy, the way it always did before a storm. chetney rubbed his nose. watched as laudna briarwood crossed to a drink cart and plucked a bottle of wine out of the mix. it was old. looked fancy enough. he was sure it was worth millions.

'i'm sure you think i've lured you here with nefarious intentions,' she said, perfectly conversational. 'i don't know how reassuring this might be but please, let me assure you that my motives regarding you are far from nefarious. i am truly glad you came, agent.'

'yeah, well, when the daughter of the most powerful man in the world invites you to a secret location, promising you everything you ever wanted...'

'you turn up with a tape recorder and hope for the best?' his hand twitched for his pocket. 'do relax, agent, i'm not upset. i have the highest regard for you and that would only have been diminished if you hadn't brought something. i enjoy your dedication to the classics, as well. a phone simply isn't the same as a tape recorder. ah - and you can keep it running, if you like. if you need my permission. i'm not sure what you can do with the recording afterwards but i won't stop you.' she poured as much of the wine into her glass as would fit. then, she set the bottle down and, eyeing him thoughtfully, poured a second drink. scotch. a generous three fingers into a crystal glass. she brought it over to him, holding it out between spindly fingers until he took it. 'i'm not, by the way.'

'not what?'

chetney searched for a place to set his glass. no way he was going to drink it - she'd probably poisoned it.

'his daughter.'

chetney froze. in all his years following the family, learning their every secret, was it possible he had missed one as big as that?

'please, don't strain. it's not worth it. i'm going to explain - i'll tell you everything, in fact, everything that happened. every shady deal, every blood-soaked contract, every death on our conscience.'

laudna took her seat opposite him, on a red cushioned armchair. it was deep and soft and obviously hers, for she was wonderfully comfortable in it, resting her glass on the arm of it and tucking her feet up onto the seat beneath her. she regarded him for a moment.

chetney looked right back.

her hair was down. he'd never seen her with her hair down, without the severe bun that she and delilah both favoured. without it, she didn't look all that much like her.

laudna swirled the drink in her hand. the liquid in it was dark, a red so deep it was almost purple.

'lets start this properly, shall we?'

'yeah.' chetney dug the recorder from his pocket and set it onto the side table, microphone directed toward her. it would pick him up clear enough just by virtue of closeness and he didn't want it to drop one word of her confession. 'agent chetney pock o'pea, here with laudna briarwood, who has consented to being recorded. would you state that again for the record?'

laudna smiled. she leaned forward ever so slightly and, in a crisp voice, announced, 'i am laudna briarwood and i have consented to agent pock o'pea recording our conversation.'

'the date is october thirty-first, twenty twenty-three. the time is -' chetney twisted his wrist. '- eleven twenty-three p.m. okay, miss briarwood. take it away.'

'thank you, agent. i suggest you get comfortable - this may be a rather long story. like i said, it is my confession. our confession, if you like. i'm sure i shall reveal enough that you may find my whole family guilty of everything that you accused us of, and yet more besides that. we are rather lacking in people to prosecute now, however. what with all the deaths and all, as you so succinctly put it.' laudna raised her glass and drank. savoured. a drop of red clung to her bottom lip. she pressed her thumb to it and swept it away. 'forgive me for delaying. if i'm being honest, i'm not entirely sure where to begin.'

chetney inched forward, elbows propped on his knees. the taste of the hunt was back in his mouth. 'why not the beginning? that day in the courthouse.'

she laughed. 'that was far from the beginning, agent pock o'pea. but,' she inclined her head, 'as good a place to start as any. very well. it all began that morning, when the briarwood family gathered to attend the first day of our trial. the case you brought against us. the case you brought against Whitestone.'

//

high on the hill where the crows do not fly stands a house and a family that cannot die. they traded much for power, glory, and gold but the price comes due for what must never be sold.

[stardustbarbarians]

To the Hunter From the Prey

A Samuel Kiszka / Daniel Wagner fic

Summary: Sam takes Danny under his wing.

Tags: serial killer au, addiction (but not to drugs), smut (MDNI 18+ ONLY), unprotected sex, degradation, oral, bondage

Trigger Warnings: blood, death, murder (graphically described), mentioned racism {if I miss any please tell me}

Words: 8.4 k

A/N: Yeah I just wanted them to fuck nasty. I'm not apologizing. Also, yes, I already published this, but idc I changed the ending. Part two to Everything Leaves You Hungry. Title taken from Call Me Little Sunshine by Ghost. Enjoy!! <3

+++

“Have Sam and Daniel gotten closer? Or is it just me?” Josh asked his twin while they sat alone in the living room. It seemed to have come out of nowhere, the question. The two of them were in their own worlds, the joint they were smoking aiding in that feeling. 

It took a moment for Jake to understand what Josh had said to him, his brain moving sluggishly. “They’re usually always joined at the hip as is. I don’t know how you can get any closer than that. Having to kill someone in order to save your best friend will do that to people.” 

Josh exhaled his hit, coughing as he passed it over to his brother. Jake took the blunt, unphased by his twin’s hacking. Cough to get off and all that. It was a few seconds later that Josh finally composed himself and spoke again. 

“It just seems like they’ve got a secret that we don’t know about…” Josh continued, recalling all the whispered conversations they’ve shared over the past few months. While it was something they had done from time to time, it hadn’t happened this frequently before. There also seemed to be a shift in dynamic between them. 

“My money’s on they’re fucking,” Jake answered in a very blasé way. He’d had his suspicions about how Sam looked at his best friend. 

“Dude, ew! That’s our brothers you’re talking about!” Josh exclaimed in disgust. He did not need to think about Sam or Danny in that context under any circumstances. 

“Oh, please. Like you wouldn’t climb Daniel like a fucking tree given the chance,” Jake argued, passing the blunt back over to his twin, “that man is a god if I’ve ever seen one.” 

Josh silently took the rello from his brother, ruminating over what Jake had said to him. The more he thought about it, the more his cheeks flushed. “Ok, but that’s different,” he muttered under his breath. 

Just after Josh finished speaking, a clamor of two different voices and giggles stumbled into the living room. The twins looked up from their spots on the floor to find Danny and Sam staring back at them. The smiles they wore quickly faded, surprise taking its place on the rhythm section’s faces. They clearly weren’t expecting anyone to be around. 

“Hey guys,” Jake greeted after a particularly awkward pause. 

“Hi,” Daniel responded, nervously tucking his hair behind his ear. Josh noted that it looked a lot more disheveled than usual. Actually, they both looked a lot more unkempt than they normally were. 

“What were you two up to?” Josh questioned, ashing the blunt in his hand before passing it over to Jake. The tension in the air was so thick you could suffocate on it. The silence was so goddamn loud, it was like a fifth unwanted guest that refused to be ignored or to leave. 

At the question, Daniel looked to Sam for an answer. If he didn’t know any better, Josh would say that Danny was nervous. But why? It was just a question. 

“Daniel and I went for a walk,” Samuel simply answered. The twins recognized that subtle but razor sharp edge in their brother’s voice that meant they should drop the subject. It meant they would catch hell if they tried to press for more information. 

Knowing when to back off, Jake just nodded. “Hope it was a good one.” He didn’t fail to notice the way Daniel grabbed onto Sam’s hand for support. 

Not wasting the opportunity to slip away, Sam used the hold Danny had on his hand and escorted him up the stairs and away from the critical and watchful eyes of the twins. After they reached the top of the steps, the twins heard them burst into a bout of giggles that was only silenced by the slamming of a door. 

Once that door closed, Jake and Josh shared a look. Jake’s eyebrows were raised as if he was waiting for Josh to speak, like he was urging him. 

With a sigh, Josh relented. “Fine. You’re right. They’re probably sleeping together.” 

While the twins analyzed rhythm section’s body language and interaction, there was a crucial detail they failed to notice in that dim room. The hand that Daniel had grabbed onto Sam with was coated in red, flaking, dried blood. 

+++

Daniel was on victim number number two. Well, he was about to be, anyway. He was thankful that Sam was with him as this wasn’t something he was particularly ready to do by himself yet. He knew Sam was nearly perfect at murder (nine victims and only a slight brush with the law) so he knew it would be idiotic not to enlist his help. In fact, it was Samuel himself who urged Daniel to essentially shadow him. 

“You will never walk alone in this if you don’t want to,” Sam offered to his best friend, a warm hand on his shoulder as he made sincere eye contact. Daniel put his hand on top of Sammy’s in a gesture of thanks. 

Ever since that night in Ohio, it seemed that Sam was always at Daniel’s side. Everywhere he looked, Sam would be within an arm’s length away; even if he was out of sight, Sam would often tell Daniel to call him at any time. “You can always reach me,” he declared. 

He was oddly defensive of him, too. Well, more than usual. Sam was always protective of those he loved, but it seemed like he had become somewhat of Danny’s personal protector. If he had his way, nothing bad would ever happen to Daniel ever again. 

There was a point during the trial where it really looked like the two of them were going to be convicted for murder. Daniel, understandably, was freaking out over the possibility of being in jail for potentially the rest of his life. The two of them were in a room with their lawyers, Danny pacing back and forth as his mind ran itself in circles. Nothing their legal team was saying to him was helping; it was in through one ear and out the other. 

Nothing was able to quell his anxiety, save for Sam. 

“Daniel, you are not going to prison. I won’t let you,” he vowed, holding Danny’s face in his hands as he spoke to make sure he was paying attention. As the words his best friend spoke truly sank in, he was finally able to relax. For whatever reason, Danny knew that Sam was telling the truth. He would do everything in his power to make sure that Daniel would be safe and free. He let himself be pulled into Sammy’s embrace, basking in the safety that was his presence. 

Sam would later reveal that his plan was to take the fall for the whole thing and confess to being the sole killer. Danny didn’t know how to handle that. Would he have let Sam do that? Could he have stopped him? Thank god he didn’t have to find out. 

Even though he tried his best to not show it, that trial took its toll on Sam as well. He managed to stay composed most of the time, but Daniel knew Sam too well to be fooled. However, that cool, collected facade broke right before the end of the trial. 

Unfortunately, it had garnered the attention of the world. Two rock musicians whose band’s entire message was to spread peace on trial for murder? It was every news outlet’s dream. They were used to attention like that, but not to the extent that they saw during the trial. 

For the most part, they handled it well. They kept their heads down and ignored all the questions they were asked. That is, until one reporter cut deep under their skin with a particularly invasive one. 

“Danny! Does this murder tie into your alleged racist past?” she asked, her voice managing to raise above all the other clamor of questions. 

Danny hadn’t even heard her at first. It wasn’t until Sam froze dead in his tracks that her words fully sank in. The drummer watched as his best friend slowly turned to look at the reporter. There was a barely contained fiery rage burning unadulterated in his eyes, but somehow there was also something so frigid about his anger. Daniel knew that look. It was the gaze of a man who was capable of committing the worst atrocity known to humanity; murder. 

As he locked his gaze onto the reporter, everyone seemed to stop. Everyone was watching with bated breath; they knew she had achieved her goal of garnering a response out of them. 

But at what cost?

When Sam flashed a dazzling smile, that’s when everyone relaxed. Except Daniel. He became more on edge. Sammy was beyond furious and he knew that. He was trying to come up with plans on how to carry Sam out of there before things resorted to bloodshed when Sam spoke. 

“I’m sorry, what was that?” he asked in a sweet tone, too sweet. At that point, every other journalist had parted in order to give Sam some face-to-face interaction with her. 

“Sam-” Daniel had tried to intervene, stepping up to be between the two of them. Without even so much as taking his eyes off the reporter, Sam grabbed Daniel’s arm and gently guided him so that Danny was standing behind him; almost as if he was acting as a human shield for Danny. 

“I asked if this murder has any correlation to Danny’s alleged racist past,” she repeated. She had no idea that she just sealed her fate. 

“Ah. Well, you see - what is your name?” 

“Jess Martin from the National Enquirer,” she informed, half paying attention as she tried to look over Sam’s shoulder to see Danny. “While we’re talking, there’s rumors that the two of you are perhaps more than just ‘friends’. Care to comment on that?” 

She’s a tabloid reporter

Sam chuckled charmingly, flashing his dazzling white smile to win over the crowd. “One question at a time, Jess. You see, this trial has nothing to do with Daniel’s ‘past’. Anyone who does their research on us would know this. As such, this is a case of self-defense. Now, tell me, does saving your best friend from being threatened with a knife have anything to do with whether or not someone made a mistake as a young teenager?” 

He looked out at the crowd for an answer to his question. There were murmurs of doubt that rippled through the air; they sided with Sam. When he figured that out, a satisfied smile crept its way onto his lips. Daniel watched on in wonderment as he was able to not only verbally decimate someone carefully as to make it seem as if he wasn’t, but also have an entire group of people that were previously against him take his side. Daniel had never been afraid of his best friend before. It seemed there was a first for everything. 

“Exactly. Now, do you have any questions of actual substance? Or shall we find a better use of our time that doesn’t involve speaking to low-rate, bottom feed-” 

“Alright, that’s enough,” Daniel quickly interrupted, placing his hands on Sam’s shoulders and turning him away from the reporter. 

“What are you doing?” Sam hissed. 

“Saving our public image.” And with that, Danny dragged the bassist away from the crowd and towards the car that was waiting for them in front of the courthouse. 

As he was walking Sam towards that car, however, Daniel knew it wouldn’t be the last he’d see of Jess Martin. 

And he was right. 

Seven months after their verdict of not guilty, they had become old news. The only publications that were talking about Greta Van Fleet were music journals and the occasional tabloid that was still trying to cash in on their murder scandal. Because they were under the omnipresent and all-seeing eye of the media, they hadn’t been able to satiate their cravings. Normally, seven months was nothing for Samuel. But knowing that he just couldn’t made everything a thousand times worse. Daniel saw how that took its toll on Sam. 

All that pent up frustration manifested itself in Sam constantly plotting the perfect murder. For months, the two of them discussed the details of their next kill behind closed doors and in the comfort of only their shared company. It was their way of unwinding with all the stress of potential jail time hanging over their heads like a hangman’s noose. It was in those darkened rooms that Sam had imparted all of his knowledge on the perfect kill unto Daniel. 

However, it wasn’t until much later that Daniel was able to put that technique into practice. This murder was going to be much different from all the others Sam had committed. Not only because of the fact that Danny would be with him, but also due to them having a victim already picked out. 

Jess Martin - conveniently - lived just a few hours outside of Nashville. There was nothing spectacular about her residence; a modest ranch style home of which she was the sole resident. Jess Martin was unmarried, the only companion she had being her horse that she kept on her five acres. She had no neighbors for miles. It was almost too perfect. 

As per usual, the plan was to make it seem like a robbery gone wrong. Dressed head-to-toe in black, the two of them parked out of view of the house and crept up around the back. Luckily, it seemed Jess didn’t live in fear of robbers as the door was unlocked. Daniel followed Sam’s lead as he snuck into the house, his eyes scanning for security of any kind. Danny kept his eyes out for Jess, peering into room after room. 

Finally, they found her asleep on her couch. There was an old western playing on the tv, a bag of doritos sitting in her lap. Rhythm Section looked at one another, silently communicating their next course of action. Doing as Sam commanded, Daniel covered her mouth with one hand and the other pressed a knife to her throat: one that he took from her kitchen. 

At the sensation of cold metal and leather pressed against her skin, Jess startled awake. She attempted to either talk or scream, but her voice was muffled by Daniel’s hand. He could see the terror befall her face out of the corner of his eye as her sleep-muddled brain pieced together the situation she woke up in. 

“Hello, Jess Martin. Remember us?” Sam questioned in a very supercilious tone. He towered above her, the backlighting from the tv casting all kinds of shadows over his face. He looked imposing, terrifying. But not to Daniel. To him, Sam looked stunning in that low light. 

She didn’t respond at first. It seemed that she was desperately trying to recall anyone that would put her in that situation which, if his own personal experience with her was any indication, was probably more than a laundry list of souls. She struggled against Danny’s hold, trying to work away from the knife pressed to her throat. In reaction, he just held the blade a little closer to her throat; a warning. 

When she didn’t piece it together, that’s when Danny leaned in close to her ear. “Maybe if you look deep into your past, you’ll find who you’re looking for.” 

That seemed to strike a chord with her. Danny saw the recognition ignite within her eyes. 

“Yeah, she’s got it now. Thought we’d forgotten about you, huh, doll?” Samuel asked, crouching down to get on her level. Daniel heard the condescension in his tone, it was hard to miss. 

“How could we forget? She made herself so memorable,” Daniel added on, locking eyes with Sam and feeling a smile spread across his lips. Sam returned it, taking off a bit of the sharpness his features had taken on. 

“In fact, we never forgot you. For seven months, you’ve been on our minds.” Sam had tilted his head to the side, his hair spilling off his shoulders. 

At this point, he got up from the floor and clamped his hands down onto Jess’s wrists so that she was completely defenseless. Sam loomed over her, bent at the waist as to pin her hands onto the armrests of the chair she was in. He was close to her face, close to Daniel’s face. He could see all the emotions swimming inside Sam’s eyes, mesmerized by each little nuisance that separated each emotion from the last just by little changes in his facial expression. 

“We did our research on you. Does the FBI know you were at the capitol on January 6th?” Daniel questioned, gently moving the knife back and forth along the length of her throat. He reveled in the way her eyes split wide open in terror. 

In consequence of her reaction, Sam laughed, deep and twisted. “I’d venture to guess that they don’t.” 

“And you thought I was the one with a shady past,” Danny added, unable to help himself, “My mistake was almost a decade ago, can you say that?” 

“It doesn’t matter, anyway. It’s not like she’ll be able to fundamentally change her belief system in the fleeting seconds she has left in her life,” Sam reasoned in an exasperated tone, shaking his head in disapproval. 

With that, Jess started to panic again, attempting to thrash out against her attackers. It was no use. Sam’s hold on her wrists was too strong and Daniel only pressed the knife harder into her throat. The pressure was enough to break skin, a small bead of bright red ichor sluggishly slipping down her neck. Daniel watched as Sam’s eyes lit up, transfixing on that single drop as if it were the most important and precious thing in the entire universe. 

“What do you say, buddy? You up to committing an act of god?” Samuel asked Danny, his eyes refusing to break away from the blood already spilled. 

Without another word, Daniel filled the role of a deity and slashed open Jess Martin’s throat. In one fluid motion, he managed to sever both her jugular veins and carotid arteries. 

Blood. 

It was flowing so freely from her neck, staining her clothes and skin. It managed to stream onto Daniel’s hand that was holding the knife, the warmth of it nothing but inviting and captivating. But nothing beat the purely blissed out look on Samuel’s face. Danny had never seen him so wholly satiated in his life. 

+++

Behind that closed door away from the twins, the two were able to finally chat about what they had just done that night. They were giggly, like they were both on an amazing high; and in a way, they were. There just wouldn’t be anything in a toxicology report that would attribute to their behavior. 

While Daniel was giddy about the whole experience, Sam was ecstatic and overly thrilled. Danny had seen Sam after his kills before and he was never this overjoyed. 

“You seem very thrilled about all this,” Danny observed, tracing the lines of Sam’s face that were illuminated by the soft and sallow glow of the single lamp in the room. Sam was sitting on the floor while Daniel was perched on the bed. 

Sam’s manic smile didn’t dim in the slightest, but he shook his head. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand.” 

It went silent after that, an unspoken something hanging in the air over both of them. Danny got the feeling that Sam knew exactly what it was that was looming over them. In fact, he was the cause of it and Danny knew it. But instead of trying to pry it out of his best friend, he just waited Sam out. 

So there they sat in that silent room. Staring at one another. But it was staring with a purpose; observing. They both studied the fine details of the other, categorizing them within their minds and ranking each nuance. 

It wasn’t until the air of the atmosphere took on a much softer edge that Sam broke that silence. 

“You know…” he started, seeming incredibly hesitant to finish his sentence. 

Again, Daniel just waited him out. 

“...I had always planned on making you one of my victims.” 

At first, Danny wasn’t sure he heard his best friend correctly. But then he turned it over in his mind again and again. He wasn’t mistaken. So many questions formulated in his mind and formed a confusing maelstrom of half baked sentences. To say it was overwhelming was an understatement. 

Finally, one was able to form completely and take precedence over all the others. 

“What stopped you?” 

That seemed to both surprise and amuse Sam, a bewildered chuckle escaping his lips. Sam couldn’t look Daniel in the eye, his gaze focused on his twiddling fingers. 

“I thought that seeing you covered in blood once would be enough…” 

Sam finally looked Daniel in the eyes. Danny felt the intensity of his gaze, his heart beginning to speed up inside of his chest. 

“I was wrong. Infinity will never be enough.” 

The smile that spread across his face was completely involuntary. He knew it was twisted and fucked up, but he couldn’t help it. There was something so brilliant about that statement, something so devoted. 

Daniel wasn’t aware of his actions. In fact, he wasn’t entirely certain he was fully in control of himself. There was just something so enticing and bewitching about Sam’s eyes… At least, that’s what he told himself as he lunged forward and smashed his lips into Samuel’s. 

Danny wouldn’t notice it until later after he had gone back and analyzed the interaction, but Sam didn’t seem even the slightest bit surprised that Danny had kissed him. No, he seemed fully prepared and immediately began reciprocating. The kiss got heated fast, Sam pushing Daniel onto his back and deepening the kiss. Danny felt his head spin, caught up in the whirlwind of their lightning fast, ever-changing relationship; he had just learned to roll with the punches. 

Hands roamed everywhere, Daniel’s managing to intertwine with the silk-like strands of Sam’s hair. One of them dislodged from Sammy’s locks and slid along the length of his back, sliding into the back pocket of Sam’s jeans, squeezing his ass. In retaliation to Danny’s act, Sam bit down onto the drummer’s bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. 

At the sweet metallic tang, the both of them moaned out. Sam began to suck on the split in Danny’s lip, needy whines slipping out at the increased taste of blood. Realizing what the effect his blood had on Sammy, Daniel detached from his lips and began using his bleeding wound to draw lines into Sam’s neck. He also employed his teeth to gouge marks into Sam’s beautiful throat, sucking and leaving marks that claimed Sam as Daniel’s. 

“Fuck, Daniel,” Sammy whined as Daniel bit down particularly hard. It was music to the drummer’s ears. Running his tongue over the path that his teeth had taken, Danny could feel the overly warm raised lines on Sammy’s skin.

When Sam let out another moan at the sensation of Danny’s tongue, arousal shot right down his veins. And alongside this spike in lust came a swell of strength. Wrapping his arms around Sam’s torso, Daniel adjusted their angle before throwing the bassist off of him and into the pillows. There was no hiding the surprise in Sam’s wide eyes nor how turned on he was. It was evident in the flush of his face and the way his breathing became heavy; not unlike the face he made while on stage. 

“Alright, way to show off, Hercules,” Sam snarked, his lips curled up in a venomous sneer that Danny had only exclusively seen aimed at those who annoyed Sam until this point. Yet no matter how hard he tried to mask it, Danny could hear how impressed he was at Danny’s strength in his tone. 

At the snide comment, Daniel chuckled darkly. The way Sam’s expression fell only made the drummer’s smirk grow, satisfaction flooding his veins. He began prowling over to Sam, caging him in slowly with each movement. It wasn’t until Daniel was perfectly on top of Sam that he spoke again. “Shut up, princess. I know you loved it.” 

Sam involuntarily shivered at the guttural tone Daniel employed. It was like a switch had flipped and all of the sudden his best friend was wafting off power and confidence. If Sam wasn’t turned on before, he certainly was now. It took everything he had in him not to just surrender to Danny and let him use Samuel however he damn well pleased; he wasn’t about to roll over and submit just yet - his pride wouldn’t let him. 

“Oh, yeah, you wanna be all tough and in charge, huh?” Sam had snaked his hand up into Danny’s curls, wrapping his hand around the base of his skull. 

Daniel was immediately suspicious. That question felt like a trap, like Sam was trying to play a specific angle. 

When the drummer didn’t respond, Sam brought up his other hand to the back of Danny’s head and yanked him down to be a few inches away from each other’s lips. “Then earn it.” 

Not needing to be told twice, Daniel slid his hands underneath his best friend’s thighs and hoisted him up. It was as if he blinked and then Sam had his back flush against the wall, his grip around Daniel tightening. He slammed Sam into that pale blue paint so hard that it caused the bassist to gasp from both surprise and the force shoving the air out of his lungs. 

Once pinned to the wall, Daniel shoved his lips onto Sam’s. It was at that moment that Daniel understood why Eve ate the apple. The temptation of indulging in something forbidden, of violating warnings and breaking rules, was a thrill second to none. To be enthralled in the velvety lips of his best friend was treacherously coaxing; he was the original sin.

Granulating lunges of hips produced filthy lamentation on the part of the bassist, repressed by the disinclination to sever the contact at their mouths. Teeth and nails mercilessly punished the skin of both individuals, scratching red threads in their wake and ceding mulberry depressions on flush sinews.

The distinct piercing metallic pungency was once again gracing Daniel’s tongue, luring the perverted exaltation correlated to that taste out to the forefront. This newfound morbid gluttony for blood should’ve indicated the wicked nature of this encounter, but abiding to morality wasn’t even close to being as important as the aphrodisiac harmony experienced. And that scared him.

Sam cried out again at the crimson ichor flowing into his mouth from the reopening of Daniel’s wounded lip. While it wasn’t surprising that Samuel had a penchant for blood that extended into his sexual desires, it nevertheless surprised the drummer enough to make him forget about his anxieties regarding his moral compass. 

Fed up with only minimal friction impeded by their clothing, Daniel unceremoniously dropped Sam onto his feet. As he went to petulantly protest, Danny silenced him by taking the collar of Sam’s shirt and tearing it apart. The noise the cotton made as it was shredded was loud, not allowing itself to go unnoticed. Underneath that tearing, Daniel could hear the pathetic whine of his best friend, his face screwed up in a mask of arousal. 

“That the best you got, big boy? Ruining a perfectly good shirt just to be all alpha?” Sam taunted, his tone nothing but scathing. 

Daniel knew Sam was just attempting to get under his skin. He knew that from the way his tone indicated a challenge and the glint in his amber eyes meant nothing but mischief. Sam was always one to push someone’s limits, to poke and prod them until they exploded; Danny was absolutely no exception. The only difference from all those other times Sam teased him was that he was going in for the kill. Sam knew all about what got Danny’s blood boiling and tonight, he was pulling out all the stops. 

Daniel at this point had ripped his own shirt to pieces and tossed it aside. The growl that involuntarily slipped past Danny’s gritted teeth should’ve been warning enough. “You’re such a spoiled fucking brat.” 

“Are you just gonna stand there and take my attitude, Danny boy? Guess that proves what kind of leader you are.” Sam’s grip on the drummer’s curls tightened. He wasn’t even trying to conceal that cocky look on his face and it was driving Daniel insane. This wasn’t just Icarus flying too close to the sun; this was Icarus turning ninety degrees towards the sun and playing chicken with it. 

Either way, his wings were still made of wax. 

No longer conscientious to his own actions, Daniel found himself pinning Samuel to the wall by his neck. It wasn’t a tight grip by any sense of the means. Truly, if Sam wanted to leave he would easily be able to slip out of his grasp. Regardless, the message was clear: Sam had pushed too far. 

Danny placed his right forearm right next to the bassist’s head, effectively caging him in. Even though he was only mere inches taller than Sam, Daniel was looming over Sam in a way that made it seem like those extra inches were feet. His entire presence was imposing, even down to the way he breathed. Sam had never been more turned on in his entire life. 

“Where did all that attitude go, pretty boy?” Daniel’s tone was purely condescending. Even the way he smirked down at Sam made him feel small and foolish. 

Chuckling darkly at the way the bassist’s entire demeanor changed on a dime, he moved his hand from Sam’s blemished throat to holding his chin between his thumb and pointer finger. Those amber eyes were pleading, Sammy’s brow knit. 

“You’re all bark and no bite, princess.” 

Seeing that defiance spark back up in Samuel’s eye caused a dark satisfaction to swell deep in his chest, Daniel feeling a smirk grow on his lips and his cockiness spike. It was the only warning he got before Sam nipped at Danny’s thumb in an effort to display how he wasn’t so pleased with the drummer’s comment. 

Ripping out his thumb with a growl, Daniel used that hand to grip the bassist’s hair in his hand.Taking advantage of the ability to manipulate his best friend’s head, he tugged on Sam’s hair and exposed his neck. Without hesitating, Daniel sunk his teeth into that irresistible flesh that beckoned his teeth indentations in order to mark Samuel as his property. At the feeling of the drummer’s teeth once again scoring his throat with his autograph, Sam let out a moan that seemed to originate from within the deep trenches of his consciousness. 

As if on their own volition, Sam’s hips thrusted directly into Daniel. It was a vital mistake and they both knew it; Danny knew just how desperate Samuel now was. A low chuckle slithered past Danny’s lips as his eyes darkened, a shiver traveling along Sam’s vertebrae. 

“Oh, a needy little thing, aren’t we, kitten?” Daniel purred into Sam’s ear. He couldn’t see it, but Daniel caused Sam’s eyes to roll back into his head. Once more, Sam’s hips lurched forward involuntarily. His hands balled into fists against Daniel’s torso, leaving red lines in the wake of his nails. 

The moan Sam released was dirty, wrong, and downright pathetic; three of Daniel’s favorite things from Samuel. It seemed all that arrogance and pride ebbed from his bloodstream. He was willing to beg for anything from Danny, as desperate as a bitch in heat. He was right where Daniel wanted him. 

Taking his best friend’s lamentation of lust as a yes, Daniel chuckled darkly once more. Daniel took his thumb and toyed with Sam’s plump lower lip, locking eyes with the bassist as he did so. There was a deep and strong flowing need roaring in the amber eyes of the younger man, Daniel drinking it up like he was a man dying of thirst. 

Danny didn’t miss the fact that this power he possessed over Sam made him feel the same as when he slaughtered his victims. That feeling of knowing it’s wrong, that doing it would alter the course of his life, the risk of being caught, but knowing that the payoff would be nothing but pure and unadulterated bliss; he couldn’t tell the difference between Samuel and his vice of choice. 

Perhaps he’s becoming my preferred sin

Filing away that thought for later, Danny decided that he was doing too much thinking. 

“Princess, when I’m done with you, you’ll have a new god to worship.” 

Without so much as any warning at all, Daniel was ripping Sam’s pants off of his legs. With a surprised yet petulant noise, Sammy got the hint and helped step out of his jeans. With them kicked out of the way, the only thing Sam was wearing was his necklace and a blush. 

That blush of his deepened as he watched the drummer get down onto his knees, their eye contact never waning. Before Sam even had the slightest chance of processing anything that had just happened, Daniel once again clutched the back of Sammy’s thighs hard enough to bruise and hoisted the man onto his shoulders. With a gasp, the bassist’s hands flew to those raven coils for security, his back once again flush against the wall. 

“Stay with me here, pretty boy,” Danny mused, a patronizing tone dripping from his words. 

In this new position, Daniel’s lips were at the perfect level with Sam’s cock. With that revelation, it finally clicked for the bassist. Involuntarily, his dick twitched in anticipation. Danny, being inches away, noticed. 

“Hang on tight, kitten,” was the only thing Daniel said before taking Sam’s tip into his mouth. 

With a deep and sharp gasp, Sam’s grip in the older man’s hair tightened. He was so desperate for anything that the very sensation of touch was enough to nearly send him over. Thankfully, he was able to pull himself away from the edge and save himself a lot of embarrassment. However, what he wasn’t able to get a handle on were the hopeless groans being ripped out of his throat. 

“There’s that vocal slut I know and love,” Danny said before diving right back in. It was driving Sam insane how Daniel would give him only enough to feel something but not enough for it to be euphoric. He kept at this for minutes, lapping lightly at Sam’s dick but never going all the way. From the look in his eye, the drummer knew exactly what he was doing as well. 

“Sadistic bastard,” Samuel managed to rasp out, his chest heaving as he panted like an overworked dog. Sweat was gleaming off his chest, marred throat bared as he rested his head against the wall. His knuckles were drained of all their color as he gripped Daniel’s hair like a vice, his thighs clenching tightly against Danny’s shoulders. 

Thrilled at what Sam had just called him, Daniel chuckled deeply with his lips still locked around his best friend’s tip. Pulling off with a pop, he smirked up at Sam as he admired the state he was able to reduce him to. 

“You love it, doll,” the drummer claimed. With one final smirk up at Sam, Daniel finally plunged down all the way down and took all of Sam. 

Sam didn’t make a noise. Instead, his eyes rolled into the back of his head and his hips lurched forward on their own volition. His back arched as he began grabbing more of Daniel’s hair in his grip. Danny, to his credit, was able to take everything Sam threw at him with ease. In fact, he began working as if Sam wasn’t even there. A thought sprung up in the back of his mind that Daniel was treating Sam like his personal sex toy and it nearly sent him into a spiral. 

To say Sam was unprepared for what Danny would do next was a complete understatement. In no way, shape, or form was Samuel expecting Daniel to begin prodding at his entrance with his finger. The shock was so much that he once again thrusted deep into Daniel’s throat and caused tears to form in his eyes and stream down his face. Never before had Sam thought tears were hot, but here he was toeing the edge of release from simply gazing at the wet streaks that stained Danny’s face. 

“Danny, I-I think-” 

“Don’t even think about it, kitten. You’re not allowed to cum until I say so,” he ordered with a growl. The way he gazed at Sam… There was nothing but authority in those dark eyes of his. So Sam had no other option but to close his eyes and focus all of his energy on simply holding back. Normally that wouldn’t be an issue - Sam liked to think that he had pretty good stamina - but considering Daniel was cockwarming Sam with his goddamn throat and massaging his prostate with his beautifully calloused fingers, it was a miracle he was coherent enough to understand English. 

All of his senses were becoming overwhelmed by the sheer amount of pleasure overloading his nerves. He was writhing underneath Daniel’s hold on him like a mouse entrapped in the constriction of a Boa snake. Despite his eyes being closed, Samuel’s vision whited out. He wasn’t aware that he was shrieking out Daniel’s name like it was a prayer. He couldn’t hold it in any longer. Every inch of him felt like he was on fire from the sheer amount of ecstasy streaming through his system. At that point, Samuel decided that his relief was more important than obeying Daniel. 

Looking him dead in the eyes, Sam came down Daniel’s throat. There was a fierce defiance burning in his eyes as his cum shot into Danny’s esophagus, challenging the drummer’s authority and pushing his limits even more. He knew from the second that Daniel groaned darkly that he had hell to pay for defying Danny, but deep down Sam knew that he wanted it that way. 

Dutifully swallowing, Daniel slowly pulled off of Sam while maintaining eye contact. The look in his eye was a dangerous one, one that promised revenge and retaliation. A shiver went down the bassist’s spine as Daniel fully removed his mouth from Sam; his fingers slowly and agonizingly followed, Sam being overly sensitive after cumming and feeling every inch Danny’s fingers sliding out of him. 

“You’re gonna regret that, sunshine.” 

Within the blink of an eye, Sam was being hauled over to the bed under Danny’s arm. Before he knew it, Sam was being thrown down onto the mattress with the wind being knocked out of him. There was only a brief moment before Danny was pinning Samuel to the mattress. Sam’s head was spinning, working itself into a tizzy as it tried to comprehend the past few seconds. 

As Sam was preoccupied with trying to get his bearings after Daniel treated him like a ragdoll, the drummer used his confusion to his advantage and yanked his belt out from his pant loops. 

Manhandling the bassist, he used leather to bind Sam’s wrists hard enough to leave bruises and tied him to the bed frame. 

“Comfortable?” Daniel smugly questioned as he watched the younger man tug against his restaurants in a futile effort. 

With an angered look in his eyes, Sam huffed out in annoyance. “No!” 

Chuckling, Danny unbuttoned his jeans and pulled down the zipper. The sly smirk spreading across his lips did much to get Sam’s dick back to half mast. He wasn’t aware his refractory period had that short of a window until now, but to be fair, he had never slept with Daniel before. 

“Good,” he darkly rumbled before removing both his pants and boxers together. Sam swallowed thickly as he took in Daniel in all his glory. He was proportional to the rest of his body: large, thick, and all long lines. To put it simply, Daniel would have no trouble splitting Sam open. There was a small part of him that worried about how Danny would fully fit inside of him, but he also knew Danny would take care of him. As much as he was acting all large and in charge Big Daddy Dom, the two of them had a bond sealed in the blood they spilled from their victims. 

Climbing up the bed, Daniel positioned his knees to be resting next to the bassist’s ribcage. Danny watched as Sam’s eyes nearly crossed as he gazed at his dick - eye level to one another. It was quite cute to see such an expression on his face. It gave the youngest Kiszka a sense of näivety Daniel had rarely seen from him in their decades of knowing one another. 

“You want to cum that bad, baby boy? I’ll make sure you cum so hard that you forget everything except me,” the older man darkly promised. And Sam believed it. 

Sammy’s breath hitched in his throat as Danny reached down with the hand that wasn’t propping him up against the wall behind his head and gripped his jaw. Using the fingers of his left hand, he was able to manipulate Sam’s mouth open. It was all he needed to shove himself between Sam’s plump lips. 

Daniel let out a sigh at the feeling of finally getting some friction, his head throwing back and exposing his throat. His right hand was still pressed against the wall, the paint a cool sensation against his otherwise searing skin. 

It was only a few seconds before Sam began using his tongue to lap at the tip of the drummer’s cock, his eyes big as they flicked up to look at Daniel. Danny couldn’t stop his hips from thrusting into Sammy’s throat. The sudden action made him gag, tears welling in his eyes. However, there was nothing in his face that suggested he wasn’t ok with what had happened. In fact, Daniel got the impression that if his mouth wasn’t full, Sam would be egging him on. 

Proving his theory, Sam began bobbing up and down along the length of Danny’s cock. 

Taking the hint, the drummer tangled his fist into those silky chestnut locks in order to keep Sam’s head in place. Then he began rocking his hips. Danny felt how Sam loosened his jaw to accommodate for the change of pace, those perfectly full and petal pink lips wrapped tightly around his shaft. Buckling under the pleasure, Daniel threw his head back once more as a growl left his throat. He was acutely aware that the bed was squeaking and groaning in warning of collapse, but he didn’t care. What he did care about was the tears streaming down those beautifully sculpted cheekbones and the thick saliva dripping down Sammy’s chin. 

Knowing he had to stop then - or else he wouldn’t - Daniel ripped his dick from Sam’s velvety mouth with a string of saliva connecting the two as an act of rebellion against the severance. The bassist petulantly whined at the loss of contact, looking absolutely used and enjoying every second of it. Once again taking his left hand, Danny placed his index and middle finger on Samuel’s tongue, the bassist immediately and enthusiastically coating them in saliva. 

Taking his fingers away, Daniel used Sam’s spit as makeshift lube as he lathered it onto the younger one’s entrance. It was only a moment before he slipped his fingers back in. Sam howled at the feeling, his back arching in a mirror image of Daniel’s fingers curling inside of him. He kept moaning out as Danny kept stretching him, Sam’s cock now fully hard. 

Deeming him to be sufficiently stretched, Daniel removed his fingers once more before aligning himself with Sam’s hole. He quickly checked with Sam to make sure he was still on board; they both knew that there was no way Daniel was holding back. Sam gave him a small smile before nodding, reassuring his best friend that this was something he wanted. It was all he needed. 

Daniel plunged himself as deep as he could go. Samuel - hands gripping the leather restraints, knuckles turning white, eyes rolling into the back of his head, jaw hanging slack - let out a soul deep cry of ecstasy that seemed to rattle the foundation. He was the perfect image of sin; the sweat on his skin caused loose strands of his hair to stick to his face, a dusting of pink resting high on Sam’s cheeks, bruises on his neck mixed with burning red teeth marks marring his neck. 

The drummer set a bruising pace, removing all semblance of restraint from himself. The headboard thunderously collided into the wall, the sturdy wood leaving dents in the soft plaster. The mattress’s scream of distress seemed to harmonize with the bed frame’s cry for help, agonizingly straining against Daniel’s brutal thrusting. But it was all hardly heard under the screams of pleasure from Samuel. His best friend was abusing his prostate, each violent thrust sending blinding waves of unadulterated bliss through his body. 

“That’s it, pretty boy. Sing for me,” Daniel growled as he lowered his mouth next to Samuel’s ear. There was sweat dripping down his back, his loose curls also taking residence on his face. 

It got to a point where Sam was mumbling out an incoherent slur of words that could have maybe been Daniel’s name. It was a constant stream of a bastardization of the older man’s name; music to his ears. It meant he was getting close again. 

“You look so pathetic, babbling my name like a fucking preverted prayer. You’re nothing but a slut.” 

Daniel wasn’t far from the edge himself. He could feel the ever-tightening coil in his stomach indicating that he was close. Really, the endless chanting of his name along with the added visual of the embodiment of sin writhing underneath him was pushing him closer and closer. But, what finally did him in was the spontaneous burst of cum spurting vigorously from Samuel, the majority of it painting the drummer’s chest. It was a matter of seconds before Daniel himself was filling the bassist up with his cum. 

Both of them spent, all the tension leaked out of their bodies as the exhaustion of that fierce fucking took its toll on them. The pair of them stayed in their places, using the reprieve to catch their breath. They gazed into one another’s eyes, the question of did we really just do that running through their heads. 

Their silence only lasted momentarily before there was a pounding on the door. The murderers - now once again fully cognizant of their transgressions against the law - feared it was the authorities as they whipped their heads towards the door. 

“What??” Sam shouted, his voice sounding nothing but used and abused. If Daniel hadn’t just finished, he knew that hearing his partner in such a state would’ve sent blood south. 

“Get down here, there’s something you’ve gotta see on the tv,” Jake shouted through the door, unphased by the attitude his little brother gave him. With one last pound on the wood, the guitarist’s footsteps faded as he descended the stairs. 

Huffing out, Sam threw his head into the pillows in a manner that reminded Daniel of a toddler throwing a tantrum. “Fucker has impeccable timing.” 

“At least he had the sense to wait until we were done.” Daniel, always the voice of reason. 

Sam, nothing but attitude, rolled his eyes. “Just untie me so we can deal with whatever the fuck they want.” 

Danny did as he was told, marveling at the perfect indentations on Sammy’s wrists. He pulled out of Sam after that, the two of them wincing at the feeling. 

They managed to make themselves look barely presentable before making the trip downstairs. That meant cleaning all the cum, saliva, and tears off of themselves before throwing on elements of the other’s wardrobe that had been tossed onto the floor while in the thralls of heat. The marks Daniel left on Samuel’s throat were perfectly visible as Daniel had torn both of their shirts to shreds and had to go without them. Sam even had the gall to put his hair up in a haphazard bun to showcase Danny’s handiwork. It's not like it really mattered, anyway. There was absolutely no fucking way the twins hadn’t heard them. Danny wouldn’t be surprised if the whole block had heard them. 

“What the hell do you want,” Sam snapped at the twins in a venomous tone, his arms crossed as he leaned against the far wall of the living room. The older man shot him a look that told Sammy to chill out. Sam was known to be catty on occasion, but this was just an unprecedented level. 

Josh, wisely, said nothing and instead used his head to motion their attention to the tv in front of him. It was turned to the local news station, a reporter standing on their block as blue and red sirens flashed harshly in the background with crime scene tape strung up behind her. The headline scrolling across the screen told of a murder that appeared to be a robbery gone wrong. The reporter rambled about the victim, how the body was reported, and other facts of the case before the shot cut to an officer. The officer stated how there - strangely - was a drumstick that was left at the scene. 

Nervously - and frankly a little bitterly - Sam shot a look at Daniel. The drummer shook his head. But Sam didn’t believe him. That was their thing and now Danny was going to go off on his own?? What the fuck was he thinking?! Resentment was beginning to curl darkly inside the bassist. After all that, his little sunshine was nothing but a-

“There’s an ‘S’ carved into the wood of the drumstick,” the officer added, cutting into Sam’s venomous train of thought. 

Once more, rhythm section shared a look. It only took a second for them to realize they came to the same conclusion. 

“Isn’t that insane?? It happened a few houses down from us,” Jake commented, oblivious to what the younger two were silently discussing. 

“To have a murderer that close to us…” Josh added, a shiver wracking his body at the mere thought. Under different circumstances, Sam might’ve laughed. If only Josh knew…

But they weren’t different. And this was no laughing matter. 

Someone out there knew what they were doing. And they were copying them. 

+++

Tag list:

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[mandareeboo]

Unfinished Work #52: "Get some self-care bitch"

Title: Get some self-care bitch

Summary: Rudy slowly learns that having a humanoid body means, well, having human needs.

Ahh, this one! I actually really like how this one went so far. I never got around to finishing it- mostly because I couldn't think of smth for every team member. I think Monster Girl was gonna help Rudy patch up some wounds and Rex was gonna give skin-care tips, but that's all I really recall.

There is very little fanfare surrounding Rudy's arrival. That's to be expected, of course- there are much, much bigger problems afoot. Omni-man has become compromised, and Invincible is nowhere to be seen after a rather bloody display. Then there's the city- homes torn to shreds, viscera everywhere, rubble to be moved. Rudy knows, logically, that this is not the time to be upset or unhappy by how things have gone.

So, he buckles down and moves on. Because that's what heroes do. That's what Robot does, and that's who the world needs right now. There will be time for proper conversation afterward, between himself and Monster Girl. He thinks- hopes?- that it will go well.

(She's losing years just cleaning up after the people they were supposed to trust. Rudy has spent thirty years in that cage, and he knows now is not the time to get sentimental. She needs to grieve.)

Rudy stretches as he flops out of the suit, taking a great joy in the ache it gives him. Rudy's always hurt, but now he's hurting from things that aren't beyond his control. Rudy made the choice to walk (walk!) out of bed this morning and work ground control. He had an option. It's exhilarating.

Black Samson, rubbing his wrist, is clearly not feeling the same way.

(Black Samson thinks Rudy wouldn't climb into the artic for him. In a way, he's right. Rudy didn't have to climb into the arctic to carefully piece his shattered bones and flesh together on the operating table, supervised by overworked staff he couldn't convince to take a rest. Because Robots don't need rest, and he refused for this to be done sloppily from lack of sleep.)

"Phantom pains?" he asks.

Black Samson grunts and stops rubbing, fixing him that no-nonsense stare he has. It's impressive, truly.

"Have you considered acupuncture?" Rudy inquires. He doubts the man would be interested in medication or full surgery. (Rudy files it away for later: next time he's under the knife, he will fix him.) "Its effectiveness varies, but it may help dull th-"

"I know what to do about phantom pain," Black Samson interrupts. "This isn't my first rodeo."

"Mm," says Rudy, sensing he's overstepped a boundary. "My apologies. I wanted to help."

Samson sighs, long and low, and stands. He sets a gauntlet-covered hand on his shoulder. "You want to help me? Drink a goddamn glass of water."

Rudy tilts his head slightly, brows raised. "That... would assist you?"

"You think I want to haul your scrawny ass around when you pass out from fatigue?" He raises his eyebrows in return. A challenge. "Take a glass next time the truck comes around. It's there for all of us."

Rudy, honestly, hadn't noticed that they were being served water at all. He cleared his throat, finding it dry, and nods. "Of course. Sorry."

And somehow that makes Black Samson smile, and Rudy is somehow more confused than when he began this conversation. "I think that's the first real apology I've ever heard out of you."

"Is it?" he asks, thinking of Rex and the confrontation. He'd said sorry then, hadn't he? Everything about that day was such a jumble.

"It is," he affirms. "Keep it up, hotshot. Might be some human in you yet."

———————————————————————————————————-

Rudy tries to be observant. He does. He keeps files on everyone he knows, with facts on them. Big or little. He's memorized every birthday and knows the exact amount of teeth each coworker has ever lost. He knows Kate is allergic to kiwi, and he knows Eve's favorite type of tree, and exactly how many freckles Monster Girl has (that is a variable fact, given her constant age fluctuation, but Rudy is studious).

For the life of him, however, he has no idea how they ended up sitting in a cramped Burger Mart booth for dinner. But, if he had to speculate, he'd guess it was Rex- he had a fondness for the chain Rudy didn't fully understand.

Someone cleared their throat. Rudy looks up from his hands to see Rae slowly pushing his tray closer.

"Oh. Yes. Right." He picked up a fry, studied it, and took a small bite. Cold. Insufficiently salty. A Burger Mart specialty. Rudy looks at his burger, then the fries, and keeps eating the fries.

Something must poke through his features, though, because her face softens. Before, Rae had simply been impassive. Now she was alert. Not a good sign. "You don't like burgers?"

Rudy shrugs.

"Bullshit!" Rex says, incredulous. "Who doesn't like burgers?"

"Vegetarians," Kate says pointedly, chewing on some nuggets. "The only way I can eat these is because I know there's no meat in them."

"Dude," Rex says, nudging Rudy's arm, and he looks more hurt than when he told him he'd stolen his DNA. "Are you a rabbit?"

"I... enjoy most other meats." Rudy shrugs again. "Once you've drank a bunch of burgers through a straw, they lose their appeal."

"Why didn't you say anything?" Rae asks.

Rudy shrugs a third time, unperturbed. He'd only ordered because they'd pestered him to. "It was the cheapest option."

"Jesus fuckin' Christ," Rex grumbles- and, to Rudy's surprise, digs out his wallet, shoving a crumpled twenty into his chest. "Go order something you'll actually eat, dumbass."

Rudy held his hands up, torn between being touched and wondering when he'll ask for the money back. He's a genius, sure, but he's not exactly made of money. Most of it pools into building robots and repairing various machines around the base. "That's... not necessary. I can still-"

"Shut up and take it, you weird ass rabbit. Before I change my mind."

(He orders mozzarella sticks- second cheapest, equally as unsatisfying- and somehow triggers some stomach issues Rudy wasn't aware this body had. Rex almost throttles him as he buys him "a goddamn chicken sandwich, like some fuckin' hippie.")