#like at least have the decency to say aged up??

[sometimescherwrites]

me watching some of yall post the most outrageous shit about certain Evan Peters characters that are minors

[steddieas-shegoes]

i'm glad i get forever to see where you end

check all tags on and read if you prefer on ao3

rated e, minors dni

happy birthday to my wife in all but law, @messessentialist. this whole idea came out of nowhere and then just kept growing and growing, much like my love for you. anytime you're ready to live our rv life dreams, i'm ready.

i'm not gonna post any links here, but just know i had 8 tabs open of different fish and birds that can be seen in and around indiana lakes. i didn't have a particular lake in mind, but there are plenty to choose from so if it matters to you, i mostly looked at lakes in the northeast and northwest area of indiana.

title is lyrics from forever by noah kahan, which is a song you should absolutely listen to if you haven't before.

this work is for sadie. if she is the only one who reads this, then that's all that matters to me.

//////////////////////////////////////////

🎣🎣🎣🎣🎣

He stares down at the paper in his hands. He thought he’d feel relief, maybe a tiny bit of happiness that he’d never admit to. He even considered that he might feel a small speck of sadness the day his brother died.

But all Wayne Munson feels right now is disbelief and anger, and he doesn’t know where to hide it before Eddie gets home.

“God damn idiot. Couldn’t even have the decency to die of old age. Had to go and get killed behind bars,” Wayne mutters under his breath as he folds the paper and slips it back into the envelope, hoping that keeping it out of sight might help him come to terms with the emotions flooding his chest. “Bullshit.”

Wayne is tired. He feels exhaustion in his bones, even in his fresh retirement.

For some, retirement is a time to reflect on the life you’ve lived and experience the things you couldn’t while you worked and raised a family. For others, retirement never happens at all.

For Wayne, retirement is a reminder that he almost lost his nephew, his son, and the government had to make sure he wouldn’t say a damn thing about how.

He knows he shouldn’t complain, but damn he sure would like to.

And now he has to figure out a way to tell Eddie that his father got killed in prison. The letter doesn’t say much, just that it was violent and the person responsible for his death is facing further consequences. As if Wayne cares about that. As if it helps explain this situation to a boy who already lost enough.

He sighs as he grabs a beer from the fridge and glances at the clock. Eddie should be home soon. He can’t hold onto this for too long; The news will get out soon enough and he’ll hear it from somewhere else, somewhere who won’t take the time to see what Eddie needs.

He takes a sip of the beer, then another, hoping the next taste of the bitter hops will help him decipher what he needs to say to Eddie.

It’s almost a blessing that Eddie doesn’t arrive home for another hour, giving Wayne time to finish his beer and get started on dinner.

Wayne is already prepared to ask Steve to head out tonight instead of linger, using the excuse of making sure Eddie doesn’t need anything before he goes. Usually Wayne finds it endearing, and hopes Eddie can see what’s so obvious there, but not tonight.

But Steve doesn’t walk in with Eddie.

Eddie’s humming something when he walks in, setting his cane against the table before sitting down in a chair and looking at Wayne with a smile.

“Hey, Wayne. How’s your day been?”

Wayne knows he’s about to ruin Eddie’s day at the very least and he’s not sure if he wants that task. He silently curses Al Munson again, wishing for someone to show up and say it was a mistake just so he doesn’t have to do this.

“Oh, boring. Ya know I hate retirement,” Wayne says as he brushes off the stress, tries to figure out a way to lead in to the news naturally. “Too much time on my hands.”

“You love fishing, though. Thought that’s where you went all morning.”

Wayne nodded. “You’re right about that. Guess I just like keeping my mind busy.”

He’s met with silence, which leads him to looking over to the table, where Eddie is staring at the envelope the letter came in.

Why did he leave it out in the open like that? It’s clearly marked from the prison.

“What’s this?” Eddie asks, always curious to the point of danger. “Dad get out?”

This was one of the worst things Wayne ever had to do and that’s saying something. Vietnam wasn’t for the weak, losing the love of his life nearly killed him, and seeing Eddie in a hospital bed after just barely escaping death is something he’d feel deep in his chest for years. But this was up there.

“No, son,” Wayne sighed, turning away from the pot on the stove. Beef stew and bread with butter was one of Eddie’s favorites, but it took a lot of work. That didn’t matter as much as making sure Eddie had support. “They sent a letter to let me know your dad passed away.”

Eddie didn’t look away from the letter. He was playing with the rings on his fingers, replaced by Steve the moment he realized they were missing in the hospital.

“Did they say how?” Eddie finally asked, still not looking up at Wayne.

“They just said another inmate was responsible. I don’t know any details. I’m sorry, Ed. Really sorry.”

And he is. Despite the fact that Al was a terrible father and made Eddie’s life harder than it should have ever been, he knows Eddie must have a lot of complicated emotions.

“Welp!” Eddie claps his hands on his thighs before finally looking back up at Wayne. “Guess that’s that.”

“It…is?” Wayne is trying to watch for any sign of discomfort or sadness, maybe anger. He sees none.

“Yeah. Not like I’ve really had him around to feel much of a loss.” Eddie smiles. It’s not fake, at least not according to Wayne’s judgment. “You’ve been my dad more than he ever was.”

Wayne feels warmth spreading in his chest at the thought of Eddie seeing him as his parent. It makes sense, but he’s never outright said something. Sure, he gave him Father’s Day cards, often handmade. And yeah, he braved a fishing trip every year for Wayne’s birthday because he knew it meant a lot to him. There was that one time he’d called him Dad when he was on morphine in the hospital.

Hearing it changes something in Wayne.

“You really feel that way, kid?” Wayne asks, sitting down at the table across from Eddie.

“Yeah. I kinda thought you knew that already.”

“Guess it’s nice to hear anyway.”

They don’t say anything else. They don’t need to.

A few minutes goes by before Wayne stands up and walks over to the stew, giving it a stir and taking a spoonful out to test the carrots and beef.

“Is that beef stew?” Eddie asks as the scent hits him.

“Sure is.”

“You were worried about how this was gonna go, huh?” Eddie teases, smirk evident in his voice.

“A little. Can’t blame me, can ya?” Wayne decides it’s done and turns off the stove. He’s grabbing two bowls from the cabinet when the front door opens.

“You forgot the meds!” Steve yells as he runs into their kitchen with a bottle of prescription pills in his hand. He freezes when he sees Wayne dishing out stew. “Sorry. Uh. Am I interrupting?”

Wayne laughs around a sigh, reaching up to grab a third bowl.

“No, have a seat, son. Just gettin’ ready to eat.”

Eddie stands and limps his way to Steve, taking the pill bottle to pocket it before he leans further in his space.

“I’m an orphan!”

Steve’s jaw drops and Wayne does all he can not to laugh. It’s not funny, and he knows that Eddie’s probably not processing the news properly yet, but he’d rather laugh than cry.

“Sorry, what?”

“My dad’s dead. The biological one in prison. Rest in peace to the man who gave me, like, two useful skills and musical talent.” Eddie is still leaning into Steve’s space and Wayne’s watching, waiting.

“I’m sorry, Eddie, that sucks.”

“Nah, it sucks that he was such a shitty dad I barely even feel sad that he’s dead.” Ah, there it is. That’s why he’s doing better than Wayne expected. “I’ve got Wayne.”

“Damn right,” Wayne adds as he pulls spoons out of the drawer. “Let’s eat.”

Steve seems lost for a moment as he looks between Wayne and Eddie, unsure what else to say in this admittedly strange situation.

He finally grabs two bowls off the counter and sets them in his and Eddie’s spots at the table.

“Let’s eat.”

- - -

Two days pass before it really hits Eddie.

Wayne’s been waiting.

Nothing major happens. Eddie doesn’t break down in tears or lash out in anger. He doesn’t even mention saying goodbye in some way.

“We should go on a trip.” He says to Wayne while they’re eating breakfast.

“What kinda trip?” Wayne asks without looking up from his newspaper.

“Camping. Or maybe cabin-ing. Somewhere with walls and running water.” Eddie sounds breathless, like he’s run a marathon. Wayne finally looks up and sees the look in his eyes. “Could go fishing and roast marshmallows and swim and stuff. Like that one time.”

He’s talking about the trip they took together a few months after he moved in permanently. His mama was gone and his dad was sitting in jail waiting for sentencing on an armed robbery turned homicide. Wayne wanted to get Eddie’s mind off everything before he had to go back to school, so he took him up to a friend’s cabin at the lake for a few days.

Eddie’s never been an outside person, but they had fun there.

It was the first time Wayne felt like Eddie was his.

It may have been the first time Eddie felt safe with Wayne, too.

“I could see if that cabin’s available. My buddy doesn’t rent it out much anymore so I’m sure he’d be fine with us using it.”

“Could Steve come?”

“Sure.”

He agrees without a second thought.

This is Eddie’s way of seeking comfort in the people he has left, he can see it from a mile away. If Eddie needs Steve to come with them, it’s no skin off Wayne’s back.

Plus, Wayne can recognize how badly Steve needs to relax. He can’t believe someone as young as him walks with so much tension in his shoulders and lines on his forehead.

“Sweet. He’s never been fishing,” Eddie explains. “Or hiking in the right side up. At least not proper hiking. I guess we aren’t really doing proper hiking. I’m wearing jeans. Can’t be real hiking.”

Wayne smiles down at the sports section of the paper, nodding and humming in agreement when Eddie recommends something else for their trip.

- - -

Steve tries insisting on taking his car as his contribution to the weekend, but Wayne tells him they need the space in his truck for all their gear. It occurs to him when Steve just blinks back at him that Eddie didn’t explain how much is actually involved in all this.

But Wayne takes the time to show him some of the stuff he already has packed in the bed of his truck.

“I thought we were staying in a cabin. Why do we have a tent?” Steve sounds nervous when he asks.

“It’s not a full tent. Just a canopy to hang up to protect us from the sun if we get caught up somewhere during our hike.”

“Hike?” Steve turns towards the trailer, glaring at Eddie, who is too busy trying to figure out which of his sneakers to wear to notice. “He didn’t say anything about hiking. I don’t have boots or, or, anything!”

Wayne grabs Steve’s shoulders, looks him in the eye, and lets out a laugh.

“Do ya think Eddie would agree to go on a hike that requires special boots?” Wayne shakes his head. “Don’t think I could bribe him to go on anything but an easy trail unless that Lars guy from Metallica was at the end of it.”

“So I’ll be fine in my Nikes?” Steve clarifies.

“Better than.” Wayne turns back to the truck bed. “I grabbed an extra pole for ya, but it’s a bit short. We can make it work, though.”

Steve stares at everything piled into the truck. Wayne stares at Steve.

He can’t read him quite like he can read Eddie, not yet, but he’s got a feeling that Steve’s overwhelmed by the effort. Wayne doesn’t know much about his upbringing, but he can imagine it was pretty lonely what with his parents being gone more than they were home.

He’s certain Richard Harrington wouldn’t even know how to cast a line, let alone catch a fish.

“Wayne! Should I just bring both?” Eddie’s standing barefoot on the top step of the deck, holding two pairs of sneakers up.

“Sure, Ed.” Wayne looks down at his bare feet and wrinkles his nose. “Don’t forget your socks.”

“Does he do that a lot?” Steve asks, still staring at everything in the truck.

“Not so much anymore. When he’s got a lot on his mind, though, he forgets little stuff. Socks, underwear, eating.” Wayne could go on, but he’s pretty sure Eddie will kill him if he does. “He’s excited for this trip so it probably isn’t at the front of his mind.”

“Right, yeah. I noticed that.” Steve finally looks at Wayne, small smile on his face. Fond, Wayne would say. “He was so caught up on picking up the kids for game night, he forgot the games.”

“Sounds like our boy,” Wayne said, waiting for any kind of negative reaction from Steve at his words.

But Steve’s smile grew, his cheeks flushing a light pink. He looked over at where Eddie had been standing moments ago, and Wayne watches him.

“Steve, I feel like-“

“Wayne! We forgot hot dogs!” Eddie calls from inside the trailer, front door wide open allowing him to see Eddie’s movement by the fridge. “And buns!”

Steve looks back at Wayne. “I can run and get some while you finish up here.”

“I already grabbed them. Check that red cooler and the bag next to it,” Wayne gestured towards three coolers along the side of the truck bed. “He wasn’t payin’ attention when I told him I was packin’ everything.”

“Not surprising.”

“We got it all Ed! Throw your bag in and let’s go!” Wayne calls towards the trailer. “He’s gonna throw a fit about ridin’ in the middle, but that’s what he gets for bein’ a bean pole.”

Steve snorts as he walks over to open the passenger door. “He’ll live.”

Wayne thinks Steve’s gonna fit right in.

- - -

The cabin is off the beaten path. It’s actually off of all paths. They’re lucky that Wayne’s friend visited recently to clear bushes and trees away so they could get to it.

Forest surrounds it on three sides, the lake is in the back.

It’s quiet, an escape for all of them, but especially for Eddie. Whatever thoughts are trying to cloud Eddie’s mind might just float away in the fresh air if he manages to relax enough.

They unload the truck efficiently, bringing everything inside except the fishing equipment, which stays on the front porch so Wayne can load it on the boat before nightfall. He doesn’t bother locking his truck up; There’s no one around for two miles at least.

Steve’s loading things into the fridge and Eddie’s…

“Where’s Ed?” Wayne asks as he grabs his duffel bag to bring to one of the bedrooms.

“Said he wanted to see how cold the water is,” Steve shrugs, shoving the beer to the side so he can make room for Eddie’s Mountain Dew. “Told him it’s probably not that cold since it’s August.”

“Anything less than boiling is too cold for that one,” Wayne chuckles. “I’ll go load the boat.”

He goes out the back door, immediately locating Eddie at the water’s edge. At least he didn’t go far. He was a bit of a flight risk at the best of times and these weren’t really the best of times.

His shoes and socks are off, sitting in the mix of sand and rocks that make up the shoreline. The rocks are smooth, worn down over thousands of years of water and animals and people. Perfect for skipping across the top of the water, splashes disrupting the calm of a lake with few visitors this close to the end of summer.

Wayne showed Eddie how to skip rocks years ago, not on this lake, but a much smaller one that they’d visited for the day the summer before he started high school. It took him about 100 tries before he got it, but when he did, he’d beamed back at Wayne, proud of himself for possibly the first time in his life.

But he’s not skipping rocks now. He’s standing at the shoreline, where the small waves break against the sand, staring out at the horizon. Wayne is tempted to leave him be, but he can’t.

He walks up behind him, makes sure to clear his throat so he isn’t completely startled when Wayne stops right where the water stops. It licks right at the toes of his boots, but they’re his work ones, steel-toe.

Eddie turns and gives him a small smile.

“Sorry, just wanted to dip my feet in.” Eddie apologizes as if Wayne would care that he’s already finding solace in the solitude of the lake.

“Stay out here as long as you want, kid. You okay?” Wayne watches as Eddie’s hands curl into fists and then relax against his thighs.

“Yeah. Thanks for bringing me out here. I’ll help load the boat,” Eddie offers, already turning towards Wayne fully and taking a step out of the water. Wayne holds his hand up to stop him. “What?”

“I got it. You can help pack the cooler in the mornin’.”

Eddie shrugs and turns back to the lake.

Wayne watches him for another minute, silent so he doesn’t disturb whatever thoughts are brewing in Eddie’s head.

As he walks back to the porch to grab the tackle boxes and poles for the boat, he sees Steve watching Eddie out the kitchen window, concerned frown and furrowed brow on his face.

Steve doesn’t notice him.

- - -

The first night is Wayne making dinner while Steve and Eddie argue over which side of the queen sized bed they’re sleeping on. He can’t help but laugh at how quickly it went from calmly suggesting the other person sleeps on the window side to personal insults.

When he hears Eddie say something about Steve’s hair being too big, he shouts for them to join him.

Dinner is relatively peaceful considering the warzone that was their shared bedroom moments before sitting down to eat. Everyone enjoys the chicken and green beans Wayne cooked, barely leaving any for leftovers. They talk about their plans for the morning, and Steve offers to clean up after they eat so Wayne can have an early night.

It’s kind of him, but he already knows their arguing is just gonna wake him up if they haven’t settled on the bed issue.

“How about you take turns sleepin’ by the window?” Wayne asks before agreeing to an early bedtime. “That way it’s fair.”

“But who has to sleep there tonight?” Eddie asks, sticking his tongue out at Steve.

“Rock, paper, scissors?”

“That’s stupid.”

Wayne raises his brow at Eddie’s crossed arms. “Draw straws then.”

“We don’t have straws.” Steve looks around the kitchen, trying to find something they can use in place of straws, but fails. “It’s fine. I’ll take the window.”

Wayne can tell he doesn’t want to, and he’s pretty sure he can guess why neither of them is thrilled with sleeping directly under a window that looks out into a dense forest, but Steve’s a self-sacrificial kind of guy. That’s been clear for as long as Wayne’s known him.

He also knows that Eddie, even as stubborn as he is, wouldn’t let a friend feel uncomfortable.

“I’ll take it tonight.” Eddie offers.

“No, it’s okay. I can take it.”

Wayne rolls his eyes. “Y’all will argue over anything.”

Steve and Eddie both turn to him with matching grins. “Mhm.” They agree in unison.

“Eddie takes window tonight,” Wayne says. “Steve can have it tomorrow night. Whoever catches the biggest fish this weekend gets to pick on the last night.”

“Sounds fair,” Steve nods, turning to Eddie to see if he agrees.

“Sure. Fair.” Eddie stands and starts clearing the drinks from the table.

Wayne decides to leave before he gets dragged into a new disagreement. He’s only got so much patience.

He’s not surprised to hear them go out the back door after the sun sets, voices quiet, but still audible through Wayne’s open bedroom window.

They don’t go far, just past the porch, about halfway to the water.

“You know, my dad would never have done anything like this with me,” Steve states, only a small hint of bitterness in his tone. “He didn’t believe in bonding time or whatever. Thought that was for fathers and sons who didn’t have a family business to maintain.”

“My dad never did either.” Eddie says back, and Wayne’s heart stops in his chest. “Probably couldn’t have stayed sober enough to make the drive to a place like this.”

Wayne waits for Steve to say something, anything. He waits for so long, he’s tempted to look out the window and see if he can see them under the light of the moon.

“Your dad didn’t deserve you,” Steve finally says, quieter than they’d been before, like he didn’t want to disrupt the quiet night with his words. “And you deserved better than him.”

“I had Wayne eventually. I have Wayne now.” Eddie replies just as quietly. “And you do too, ya know.”

Wayne isn’t much of a crier. He’s only done it a handful of times. But Eddie’s words make his eyes well up and his throat burn.

“He barely knows me,” Steve tries to argue.

“He knows enough. You were there for the worst of my shit. You still stick around. You’re here right now even though you could’ve turned down his invitation.” Eddie sounds like he’s holding back tears now. “If you mean a lot to me, you mean a lot to Wayne. You’ll just have to get used to it.”

Wayne wishes he could be a part of this conversation, or at least be able to see them both. He’s respecting their space as much as he can, though. He’s laying in his bed and biting back tears the way any respectful uncle would.

“I’m not used to meaning so much to someone.”

Wayne isn’t sure he hears him right, his voice breaking halfway through, but Steve couldn’t have said anything else.

He should stop listening. This is turning into something else entirely, he thinks. He shouldn’t hear whatever Eddie says next.

“You mean everything to me.”

Wayne closes his eyes, holds his breath, hopes that if Steve takes it the way he knows Eddie means it, that this doesn’t turn into a real fight. He hopes that Steve’s reaction is kind, even if it’s not what Eddie wants.

Wayne’s almost grateful that he can’t hear what Steve says next. Whether it’s rude or loving, he doesn’t want to be a part of this moment like this. He can’t close his window, they’d hear it. He can’t leave his room, he’ll just be in view when they come back inside.

He waits one minute, two, three. He hears a twig snap and then quiet giggling.

He smiles to himself as he hears footsteps heading back towards the cabin.

🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸

Eddie wakes up with Steve’s arms around him and something bubbling in his chest.

Could be heartburn, or it could be the love that’s been growing inside him for months.

He remembers their conversation last night, looking up at the stars and listening to the leaves gently brushing against each other in the breeze, and he can’t help the blush on his cheeks. When Steve kissed him last night, he was pretty sure he was dreaming.

This wasn’t a dream, though.

They stayed up way too late. Eddie knew the moment he looked at the clock as they got into bed and saw 1:48 in bright red that he’d struggle today.

He could hear Wayne moving around the cabin, probably making coffee and breakfast for them since they’d need an early start for fishing. It wasn’t Eddie’s favorite thing to do, but Wayne loved it, and Eddie loved Wayne.

Steve groaned as he moved one arm above his head.

Eddie looks up at him, blushing harder when Steve’s half-lidded eyes are already looking down at him. He’s smiling, cocky if Eddie’s reading him right.

“Sleep okay?” Steve’s sleep-raspy voice asks, fingers gliding across Eddie’s upper arm in unknown patterns.

“Mhm. Not long enough,” Eddie admits. “Could stay in bed.”

Steve hums in agreement before seemingly realizing that Wayne’s already up. “Don’t think we can skip out on Wayne, though.”

This is why Eddie has a hard time pushing his feelings down for Steve. He’s done this before, whether he realizes he did or not.

In the hospital, the day after he’d woken up, Steve had stopped by to bring some clothes for Wayne since he refused to leave Eddie’s side. The kids had apparently been hounding him to take them with him, but he stood his ground and told them that Eddie needed time with just Wayne right now and that he needed rest.

A few weeks later, Steve could’ve easily taken Eddie home by himself, but insisted on waiting for Wayne to get off of work to do it.

Just a week ago, Wayne had forgotten a few things at the store, and when Steve overheard him grumbling about having to make another trip, he offered to go.

That’s just who Steve is.

Eddie loves him for it.

“Yeah. He’d be so bored without me scaring the fish away with my constant humming and leg jiggling,” Eddie agrees seriously. “Wouldn’t want him to miss me.”

Steve lets out a loud laugh, and Eddie hides his pleased smile in Steve’s chest.

He can’t believe he’s doing this right now, can’t believe Steve’s arm tightens around him, pulls him closer so all he can feel and smell is Steve.

“You could just stay quiet while we fish,” Steve suggests, as if Eddie hasn’t thought of that already. “Just for a little bit.”

“That sounds boring.”

Steve pokes Eddie’s cheek with his other hand. Eddie nips at his fingertip before Steve can pull away. They both laugh.

It’s easy.

A knock on the door interrupts the casual cuddling, but Eddie knows it’s not because Steve’s ashamed to be caught with him like that. Steve isn’t used to this being okay.

“You boys up?” Wayne’s voice is barely muffled through the door, something Eddie notes for later.

“Yeah!” Eddie calls back, though he probably didn’t need to speak more than normal volume.

Steve is tense below him. Eddie hates that.

He tries to soothe him by running his hand along his side, memorizing the bumps of his scars, keeping his breathing even so Steve would calm down. Wayne wouldn’t walk in without Eddie telling him he could, but Steve must’ve assumed he didn’t respect his space that much.

“Breakfast is done. Just made eggs and toast.” Wayne knocks once more on the door before they can hear his footsteps walking back to the kitchen.

Steve relaxes and sighs.

“You don’t have to do that.” Eddie still traces along the scar on his hip. “Wayne’s cool.”

“I know.” Steve goes to sit up, but Eddie holds him down. “Eddie, I know. It’s okay. I didn’t mean to react like that.”

“There’s a price to pay before you get up.”

Steve snorts. “And what’s that?”

“A kiss.”

Steve kisses the top of Eddie’s head.

“Unfortunately, I won’t be accepting that form of payment.”

Steve’s hand cups Eddie’s cheek, thumb rubbing slowly as he guides his face up to look at him. Eddie hopes he can’t feel the heat on his skin, but the odds aren’t great.

“One kiss.”

“Only one?” Eddie pouts.

“Don’t wanna get carried away when we’re supposed to be getting up.” Steve leans in until his breath is hot against Eddie’s lips. “So one kiss and then you let me leave so we can go fishing with your uncle.”

“Fine.” Eddie can’t help smiling into the kiss. It’s quicker than he wants, but it’s perfect. When Steve pulls away, Eddie groans and falls flat on his back. “What if we fake sick?”

“You’re ridiculous,” Steve laughs as he gets out of bed and tries to get changed into regular clothes.

Eddie watches him, can’t wipe the smile off his face as Steve nearly trips over his own pant leg. He doesn’t even care if Steve catches him looking, not anymore.

He gets to look now.

After Eddie’s confession last night, after their first kiss, and the second and third, and talking for two hours by the water, it was pretty obvious that they were skipping over that new relationship awkwardness. Eddie hadn’t quite said he loved Steve, and Steve hadn’t said it either, but actions spoke louder than words. The way they couldn’t stop touching, the way Steve looked at Eddie while he talked about his most recent adventure with Dustin, the way Eddie watched Steve throw rocks as far as he could into the depths of the lake, it was all love.

“If you keep looking at me like that, I’m never leaving this room.” Steve is looking at him as he buttons his jeans and Eddie is considering sending Wayne on his own.

He waited months for this, but now it felt like waiting another hour was too much.

“Looking at you like what?” Eddie asks innocently.

“Like you wanna eat me.”

“Well…” Eddie wiggles his eyebrows and taps the bed. “I could eat breakfast in bed if you get back in it.”

Steve walks over to the bed, leans over Eddie, gets close enough to nip at his top lip.

“Get out of bed.” He presses a quick kiss to Eddie’s lips before walking to the door. He leaves it open as he leaves the room without looking back.

Eddie curses Steve’s ability to get him to do anything, and reluctantly gets out of bed. He throws on his shorts, a tank top, and ties his bandana in his hair so he doesn’t have to worry about it sticking to his forehead.

When he gets to the kitchen, Wayne and Steve are staring out the window and whispering.

“I didn’t think we’d see a marsh hawk. Population’s been down for the last decade,” Wayne’s saying as Eddie walks up on his other side. “I’ve only seen one before and that was during a trip to Lake Michigan when I was 14 or 15.”

Eddie looks out the window, trying to see what they see. He’s not sure what a marsh hawk looks like, but he’s assuming it’s one of the birds in the nearby trees.

Steve wordlessly points it out to him.

“That’s a cool bird.” Eddie says at a normal volume. The bird spreads its wings out, acting as if it might take off. It’s beautiful, the white along its beak and chest a stunning contrast to its dark brown wings.

“It’s good luck to see one in some cases,” Wayne whispers as he turns away from the window. “Seeing one on your wedding day is supposed to lead to a long and happy marriage.”

“Too bad no one’s getting married here today,” Eddie remarks as he grabs a plate and starts to scoop eggs onto it.

“Not married. But still good luck,” Steve mutters as he follows Eddie. “So we just have to grab the cooler on our way out?”

Wayne nods. “And the bait.”

“I thought we used plastic stuff.”

“We use lures, but we put worms on there to get the fish to actually bite,” Wayne explains. “I’ve got plenty of stuff for bass, but I dunno how lucky we’ll be.”

Eddie nods along as he takes a huge bite of toast. “One time we forgot worms and had to use hot dogs.”

“Fish eat hot dogs?” Steve asks in surprise.

“Some fish settle for hot dogs. They don’t quite realize ‘til it’s too late that it ain’t their food,” Wayne shrugs. “But we got plenty of worms for this trip. Should be perfect fishing conditions.”

They all ate in silence after that, but Eddie could feel Steve’s nerves building the closer they all got to clean plates.

Steve didn’t have to say it for Eddie to know he desperately wanted to impress Wayne, especially now that they were…something. They probably needed to clarify exactly what they were at some point soon. They would. Eventually. Tonight maybe.

Or tomorrow.

“I’ll clean up if you boys wanna finish getting ready.” Wayne offered as he scraped the last of his eggs onto his fork.

Eddie took him up on his offer, jumping up to go brush his teeth and get his sneakers on.

“You comin’?” He asks Steve, who’s still slowly eating the eggs he drenched in ketchup.

“Just a second,” Steve replies with his mouth full. “You can use the bathroom first.”

Eddie nods and leaves the room.

He hears the sink in the kitchen running a few seconds later, and the hushed voices of Wayne and Steve having a whispered conversation. He could sneak back, try to listen in, but he thinks that maybe Steve needs this minute alone with him.

He finishes what he needs to do quickly, though, and admittedly sneaks back towards the kitchen quieter than he normally would, hoping to overhear something interesting.

But all he walks into is Steve laughing as Wayne smiles back.

Eddie doesn’t find that he minds much, as long as they’re both happy.

🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸

Being on the boat is different as an adult.

The last time Eddie fished with Wayne on a boat, he was barely shoulder height on him and 100 pounds soaking wet. It was a much smaller boat, though, barely fit two grown adults comfortably.

This boat, however, was built for a family of at least four adults. The awning covered half of the boat, so Eddie didn’t have to sit in direct sunlight when the sun finally rose.

Steve stood to the side, watching Wayne prep the lures and bait, casting his own line out and reeling it in until it was taut. Eddie went next, making a show of it just like he always did. Wayne doesn’t comment, just shakes his head and smiles fondly as he watches the water.

“Um,” Steve starts. “I guess it’s my turn.”

Eddie’s pretty sure Wayne knows Steve’s nervous. It’s hard not to tell with how quiet he’s been the entire ride to the middle of the lake.

Wayne sets his pole in the stand at the stern, and turns to Steve with his hands on his hips. “You saw how I cast mine?”

Steve nods, but doesn’t look sure. Eddie’s not really used to seeing Steve anything less than confident, even in the face of monsters.

It hits him the moment he thinks about monsters.

They’re on a lake. A lake very similar, though much larger, to the same lake that almost dragged Steve to his death. A lake he’d previously trusted, and no longer could.

Eddie doesn’t say anything, just subtly places his hand against Steve’s hip, offering whatever comfort he can. Steve won’t admit he’s scared, but Eddie doesn’t need him to.

Wayne sees it, Eddie knows he does. But because he’s the best uncle, he doesn’t say anything.

He raises a brow and then schools his features back to a comforting smile before showing Steve how to hold the pole so he can cast it comfortably and far enough out that movements from the boat don’t scare the fish from the hook.

Eddie watches, and he sees the nerves slowly easing from Steve’s shoulders, his forehead, and his arms. He relaxes inch by inch, and Eddie couldn’t be more in love.

Wayne steps back so Steve can cast his line.

When the bobber hits the water, Wayne smiles and pats his shoulder. “Good job, son. Now reel it in a bit so you can feel if something bites. Good. Now we just wait.”

Steve turns red at the praise and Eddie realizes that Steve probably hasn’t heard a “good job” from an adult in a very, very long time.

Eddie’s childhood was fucked, but at least Wayne was there cheering him on, showing him what it meant to be proud of your kid eventually. He’s pretty sure Steve hasn’t had that for most of his life.

“How long do we wait?” Steve asks after a few minutes.

The lake is near silent, and the water is so smooth it looks like glass. If Eddie leaned over, he’d probably be able to see his reflection. The gentle lapping of water on the side of the boat and the distant sound of birds in the trees lining the water’s edge fills the air.

“I usually give it 10 or 15 minutes before reeling it in. Check my bait, maybe change the lure if there’s no bites.” Wayne’s watching the end of Steve’s line as he speaks. “I used bass lures on all of ours, but we might change them up in a minute. See what else is out there.”

Steve nods and turns back.

Wayne doesn’t take his eyes off of Steve’s bobber.

Eddie watches Wayne curiously.

Anytime he’s fished with Wayne, he’s left Eddie to his own devices after showing him what to do. He watches his own line, and only steps in to help if Eddie catches something and doesn’t wanna touch the fish.

Wayne’s eyes widen just as Steve exclaims, “Hey! Look!”

“Reel it in!” Wayne shouts, setting his pole down again and rushing to stand next to Steve.

Eddie turns and watches as Steve reels in whatever he’s caught. Judging by the bend in the pole, it’s a decent sized fish.

“Shit, what if it breaks?” Steve asks, voice shaking with the effort of trying to reel in the fish before it escapes.

“It won’t. Keep going.”

When they manage to get the fish out of the water and into the boat, Steve is breathless.

“Look at that!” Wayne holds up the line, right above where the hook is caught in the fish’s mouth, beaming at Steve. “Our boy got himself a king salmon!”

Ignoring his mention of “our” boy, Eddie steps closer and grips Steve’s shoulder, shaking him just enough to make the boat rock.

“How can you tell?” Steve asks Wayne, reaching out to hold the fish up himself.

“You see all these black spots on his back and fins?” Wayne points at a few of the spots. “Other salmon don’t have this many spots or any at all. You keepin’ him or throwin’ him back?”

Steve looks at Eddie, smile falling as he suddenly looks unsure about what the right thing to do is. Before Eddie can say anything, Wayne wraps his arm around Steve’s shoulders.

“Either is fine with me. Could cook him up for supper if you wanna keep him or send him back to his friends with a new piercing.” Wayne looks over at Eddie. “Eddie ain’t much for seafood, but I make a mean baked salmon.”

Steve nods. “Yeah, think I’ll keep this one.”

Wayne pats his shoulder again before showing him how to unhook the fish safely. He opens up the empty cooler he brought and places the fish inside.

Wayne moves to grab the bait so Steve can set up again, and while his back is turned, Eddie takes a chance.

He leans over and kisses the corner of Steve’s mouth.

“You’re a natural,” Eddie whispers as he leans away again.

“Shut up.” Steve is blushing that same pretty pink that he was last night and earlier this morning. Eddie can’t look away. “Just lucky.”

Wayne catches two rainbow trout and Eddie manages to catch a small northern pike, which quickly gets thrown back when Eddie starts to make up a story about how it’s a teenager who got separated from its parents. Wayne shakes his head as Eddie carries on, but he’s used to it. Eddie never keeps his catch if he’s lucky enough to have one.

They relax as the day warms up, popping open cans of soda as the sun gets closer to the middle of the sky. It’s not about fishing anymore; It’s about soaking up the tranquility of their surroundings.

Eddie isn’t known for being still or quiet, but even he can let himself enjoy this. Every day since March has been about survival, and appointments, and witness statements, and lawyers, and moving, and the kids. He feels like he’s barely even had time to think.

So while he sits on this boat with two of his favorite people, he thinks.

He thinks about how different his life is now, and how different it could still be.

He thinks about how much Wayne has sacrificed for him for most of his life, but especially the last five months.

He thinks about how much he wants to tell Steve he loves him.

He thinks he’ll tell him tonight.

📼📼📼📼📼

Steve sits on the porch while Wayne cleans the fish, staying a good distance away so he doesn’t end up seeing things that’ll make him wish he left the poor salmon in the lake. Eddie’s inside doing god knows what.

He’s never been happier.

He does wish Robin could be here, but she hates the outdoors. She didn’t even like going on her family’s beach trip last month.

Plus, he’s pretty sure he wouldn’t have been able to have the alone time he needed with Eddie last night if she were here. Even though she’s been telling him to just talk to him for the last three months, she wouldn’t have caught on to his plan.

Feeling this much for Eddie isn’t new.

After the events of spring break, Steve took a long, hard look at high school and realized that at least part of the reason he was always staring at Eddie was because he was very interested. He started looking for any excuse to stick around in Eddie’s hospital room, and then offered to take him to appointments, and it continued from there.

Now, they hang out almost every day. Sometimes it’s with the kids, sometimes with Robin, sometimes alone.

Steve realizes that even before they kissed and fell asleep holding each other and flirted as much as possible all day, this was the best relationship he’s ever had. He needs to tell Eddie as soon as they’re alone.

“All done,” Wayne says as he steps onto the porch, the container of cleaned fish in his hand. “You ready to learn the secret to makin’ the best fish?”

Steve is quick to nod, excited that Wayne thinks he’s even worth the time it’ll take to show him. Wayne’s been so kind this entire trip, making sure Steve is involved and welcomed, makes him feel like he belongs in their little family.

As Wayne grabs everything they’ll need, Steve sees Eddie through their bedroom door, writing in a journal, tongue poking between his lips as he concentrates. Steve’s never seen this journal, but he can assume it’s another one of his many already filled with songs and campaign ideas.

“You done starin’ at Ed?” Wayne’s voice is quiet behind him, but still makes him jump with surprise.

“Wasn’t staring at him. Thought I saw a…um…bug?” Steve knows he’s been caught halfway through trying to lie, so he moves on. “Ready?”

“Are you?” Wayne raises a brow and smirks.

“Yes!” Steve puts his hands on his hips. “What are you implying?”

“Mostly that you’re too in love with my nephew to focus on what I’m sayin’.”

Steve feels heat in his cheeks, but he chooses to ignore it and pretend that he can distract Wayne from what he’s saying.

“So we’re frying your fish and baking my salmon?” Steve starts holding up some of the spices Wayne’s set out on the counter. He can feel Wayne’s eyes on him. “Looks like you like spice.”

“Steve.” Wayne sighs. “It’s okay to feel however you feel. I ain’t gonna judge.”

“Right. Yeah.” Steve turns to finally look at Wayne, who looks sad. He shouldn’t look sad right now.

“Eddie ever tell ya about Paul?” Wayne starts filling one pan with oil and the other with a few small pads of butter.

Steve shakes his head, watching closely.

“Paul was my boyfriend when Ed first came to live with me.”

Steve’s eyes widen as that hits him.

“Woulda been my husband had we been able to be married.” Wayne starts mixing flour, salt, and pepper in a bowl while he talks. “He was a long haul truck driver. Gone for weeks at a time. Stayed with me when he passed through. Came home one day to Eddie asleep in the bed we usually shared and asked if I’d been up to something.”

Wayne smiles fondly down at the bowl of eggs, buttermilk, lemon juice, and garlic he’d started mixing together as he spoke.

“Told him everything. Expected him to call it quits. He didn’t sign up for raising a troubled kid, especially not one who may not be okay with what we had.” Wayne stops and looks up at Steve. “But he just hugged me and said he’d follow my lead. Whatever was best for Ed was what was best for us. Ain’t sure I could ever find a love like that again.”

Steve can feel tears trying to form in his eyes, but he manages to bite them back. He’s pretty sure he knows where this is going, but he listens without interrupting.

“Ed didn’t take too well to him at first. Probably ‘cause he was in and out so much, didn’t get time to bond with him like I did. Paul was patient. Always so patient with both of us.” Wayne shakes his head and looks down at the counter before he looks up smiling again. “Ed came out to Paul first, ya know? When he was 13. He’d gone on a short haul with him over the summer and when they came back, they were thick as thieves. Paul told me that night that Ed had told him he liked boys and it changed their entire relationship. I was Uncle Wayne, but Paul was like a dad to him. Definitely more than his own dad ever was.”

Wayne looked over to check that Eddie was still in the bedroom, distracted by his writing.

“Paul started taking short hauls instead of long ones. Only gone three or four days at a time instead of 14-20. Thought it was so he could be close to Ed, since we’d kinda become our own little family.”

Steve realizes he’s holding his breath when Wayne sniffs.

“He’d gotten sick and didn’t tell us. Started out thinkin’ it was pneumonia, but it got worse. Doctor thought it was heart problems, but it was everywhere. Leukemia. Untreatable by the time they figured it out.”

Steve’s wrapping his arms around Wayne before he even realizes he’s doing it, letting the tears fall as he thinks about how much pain Wayne and Eddie must’ve gone through to lose someone so important to them.

“Ed was barely 14 when he passed. I think he took it harder than me.”

Steve can’t even imagine. Wayne lost someone he loved, but Eddie lost a father figure after losing his real father to things he should never have had to compete with. And now Eddie’s father was really dead.

All he really has is Wayne.

“Kid shaved his head in solidarity when Paul lost what little hair he had left,” Wayne huffs a wet laugh as they pull away from each other. “Couldn’t believe it when I got home from work and they were both bald as cue balls. Thought they’d lost it.”

Steve and Wayne are both laughing, and it’s probably going to draw Eddie’s attention, but he kinda hopes it does. He could use Eddie’s closeness right now. He needs to see that he’s okay, that this didn’t completely destroy him, that he went on anyway.

But all Eddie does is yell at them to keep it down, which just makes them laugh harder.

“And you never dated anyone else?” Steve asks as Wayne starts putting his fishin the egg mixture. “Not even for fun?”

“Nah. Once Paul was gone, I had to work more to pay the bills. What little time I had was spent with Ed. He was my priority, always.”

Steve wipes the tears from his cheeks as he watches Wayne drop the fish into the hot oil.

“What about now?” Eddie was busy with his own life now, and they’d received enough money from the government to cover their new trailer and have plenty leftover to cover bills. Wayne was retired and had plenty of time to start dating again.

“I got lucky with Paul. It ain’t fair to compare any future relationship to what we had and I think that’s all I’d do. I’m happy the way things are for now.”

Steve drops it for now, but he makes a note to ask Eddie about it soon. He’s surprised Eddie never mentioned Paul, or even the fact that Wayne was gay, especially when he came out to Steve and Robin while he was still in the hospital.

Wayne goes on to explain how long he keeps the fish in the oil before flipping them to make sure the cooking is even, and how putting them onto paper towels to cool drains too much of the grease.

As Steve watches him prep the salmon with a glaze he made from garlic, honey, and lemon juice, Eddie finally comes out of the bedroom.

“Smells like fish,” he says with a grin.

“That’d be the fish.” Wayne doesn’t even bother looking over at him as he leans against the counter. “Salmon is already a tender fish, so you can bake it to whatever you prefer. It should only take about 10 minutes on 400 unless you like it extra crispy, then you may wanna do it for 13 minutes.”

“Chef Wayne teaching you everything you need to know?” Eddie asks Steve, stepping close enough for Steve to feel the heat coming from his body.

“He’s pretty talented. Might need to consider opening a restaurant,” Steve teases.

“Wait ‘til you have his steak. So tender you could cut it with a spoon.”

“Don’t know what you’re after with your compliments, but I’d rather ya just ask for it.” Wayne checked the clock as he closed the oven door.

“I was just bein’ nice!” Eddie exclaims, throwing his arms up in frustration. Steve never noticed how Eddie’s accent changes the more time he spends around Wayne, but he smiles to himself when it slips now. “See if I give ya a compliment again, old man.”

Steve watches as they banter back and forth some more, both of them smiling and laughing the entire time.

It’s nothing like what Steve was used to. His parents never bantered, only fought. Anything that was big enough for discussion, was big enough to yell about. As Steve got older, he learned that staying quiet and letting them get it out would usually turn out better for him. Luckily, once he reached middle school, they didn’t bother coming home enough for him to worry about what to do when they were arguing.

He doesn’t remember a time when there was fun and laughter between them, not even when he was a young child. He can remember his mom dancing with him while his dad was gone on business trips, but the moment he arrived home, the air became thick with tension and her attitude became somber. He remembers one time when his dad let him sit on his desk while he worked, making paper airplanes and having a competition to see how far they could fly, but the moment the phone rang, he was hissing a ‘get out’ with no explanation for the abrupt stop to the fun.

Steve couldn’t imagine talking to either of his parents the way Eddie talks to Wayne, but he also couldn’t imagine receiving the love from them that Wayne so easily gives to Eddie.

And now that he knows another piece of their story, he can see how they’ve come to be like this, comfortable with each other in ways many kids never are with their parents.

Steve’s mind continues to wander throughout dinner, but no one calls him out on it. Maybe Wayne somehow communicated with Eddie that they’d had a serious conversation. Maybe it was just obvious that Steve was far away from the table. Eddie and Wayne chattered as they ate, and Steve let the constant echoes of their voices be the background noise to his thoughts.

“Stevie?” Eddie’s hand touched his cheek, shaking him out of the path he was lost on. “Wayne’s gonna take a walk. You wanna go?”

Steve smiles up at Eddie before looking down at his plate. He barely remembers eating, but he only has a few small pieces of salmon left.

“Sounds good.”

Eddie looks concerned, but Steve brushes him off. He looks around, and when he doesn’t see Wayne in the room with them, turns his face so he can kiss Eddie’s palm.

“Should we grab the bug spray?” Steve asks as he stands, pushing in his chair and grabbing his plate off the table to wash it.

“Wayne’s got it outside. Think he put enough on for all of us,” Eddie follows close behind Steve. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah. Just thinking.”

“About?”

“A lot.” Steve brushes it off so they can join Wayne. “Ready?”

Eddie nods and leads the way out of the cabin.

They ate an early dinner, so the sun is still high in the sky as they make their way down a trail that follows the lake’s edge. Eddie occasionally gets distracted by colorful rocks, holding them up excitedly for Steve and Wayne to acknowledge.

Steve knows the love he has for Eddie is written all over his face.

He doesn’t care to hide it.

Wayne’s quiet as they walk, occasionally pointing out a fish splashing in the distance or a heron standing in the water. He swats a mosquito away from Steve’s face, only for the mosquito to turn around and bite his hand. Eddie’s far too busy climbing over fallen limbs and branches of trees to notice what they’re doing.

“You boys should go for a swim when we get back. Water’s cool.” Wayne makes the suggestion without looking at Steve, who suddenly feels like he’s being studied under a microscope.

“Not sure if Eddie even brought a swimsuit.” Steve laughs it off, hopes they can go back to silence or change the subject.

“I’m sure you boys could figure something out.”

Thankfully, the topic gets dropped and Steve is left wondering if Wayne knows.

Sure, he joked about Steve being in love with Eddie earlier, but that wasn’t a confirmation that he knew they were together. He thought they’d been careful today, but maybe Wayne caught them when they kissed by the truck when Eddie was grabbing his wallet from the glovebox.

He doesn’t have time to think about it more because Eddie lets out a yelp and they can only watch as he falls on his ass into a muddy spot between two large rocks.

“I hate the outdoors,” he grumbles as he stands.

Wayne is laughing, but Steve is rushing over to make sure he’s okay.

“Are you hurt?” Steve’s hands are hovering over him, trying to figure out if he sees any blood. “Did you hit your head?”

“I’m fine, sweetheart,” Eddie replies quietly, holding his arms out as if trying to show proof. “My dignity may be a bit bruised.”

They’re interrupted by the hooting of an owl. It’s loud enough that Wayne shushes them and starts looking around at the trees surrounding them, trying to locate the creature.

It hoots again before Wayne locates it, pointing to a tree only ten feet away and to their right.

“Wow.” Steve says as he gets a close look at it, the white and tan feathers blending into beautiful patterns. “It’s so small. I thought owls were bigger.”

Eddie’s looking up at it, smiling.

To Steve’s shock, he’s the one who responds, not Wayne.

“It’s a northern saw-whet owl. They’re closer to the size of a robin than an owl you may be thinking of.” Eddie reaches for Steve’s hand and squeezes it once before letting it drop. “Paul taught me about all kinds of owls.”

Steve’s head snaps towards him. “You heard us this morning, didn’t you?”

“You weren’t quiet,” Eddie shrugged. “I used to be obsessed with nocturnal animals. He bought me a book about bats and owls for Christmas and went through it page by page with me.”

“I remember that book,” Wayne looks at the owl while he talks. “Paul said it made him nervous to go out at night.”

Eddie laughs. “He was convinced we’d get attacked.”

Steve can’t blame him. The longer he looks at the owl’s impossibly large eyes and spread wings, the more he believes he’s being hunted.

“Ready to head back?” Wayne asks after another minute, drawing his attention away.

“Wish I had a camera like Byers. Probably could get a good picture.” Eddie says as he starts to walk back the way they came.

Steve takes note to ask Jonathan about his so he can get him one for Christmas.

When they make it back to the cabin, Wayne excuses himself to take a shower and do a crossword before bed, which leaves Steve and Eddie to fill their time however they want. Steve thinks back to Wayne’s suggestion about going for a swim, but he’s not sure Eddie would want to now that the sun’s almost set.

He’s not even sure he wants to get into the lake after dark.

But it does sound appealing, especially with the layer of damp sweat coating his skin from their walk. And there is a light on the dock that would make it easier to at least see each other.

“Wanna go for a swim?” Steve asks Eddie as he sips on a soda.

“Now?” Eddie looks out the window in the kitchen, frowning at the darkness looming.

“Now.”

“It’s dark.”

“We can turn on the light at the dock. C’mon. Just a quick dip,” Steve nudges his shoulder as he starts walking to the back door, fully dressed.

“You’re not gonna change?” Eddie asks in disbelief.

“Don’t plan on wearing my clothes in.” Steve winks as he leaves, knowing Eddie will follow him even if he’s hesitant to do so.

Within seconds, the back door is closing and Eddie is on his heels.

“Are we seriously skinny dipping in the lake while my uncle is here?” Eddie hisses out, hand covering Steve’s forearm.

“I’m skinny dipping. You can do whatever you want,” Steve responds. “But I wouldn’t complain if you joined me.”

Eddie huffs beside him, but still follows him the rest of the way to the water’s edge. The light has a covered power switch to their right, but now that they’re in an open area by the water, they realize the moon is pretty bright.

Steve starts stripping off his shirt, then his shoes and socks. Eddie watches, probably trying to decide if he’s gonna join him or go back inside and pretend Steve isn’t naked in the water. When Steve pulls his pants off, Eddie sighs and starts untying his boots.

“Can’t believe you have me getting into another lake. Wasn’t the first time enough?” Eddie’s grumbling loud enough for Steve to hear, but quiet enough that Steve only catches every couple of words and has to use context clues for the rest. He can’t hold back a smile when he shoves his underwear down and leaves them on top of his pile of clothes.

Eddie is still grumbling as he removes his own clothes, enough that he’s distracting himself from realizing Steve’s already naked and waiting for him.

When he looks up, his eyes widen and his jaw drops open.

“You’re gonna catch flies like that,” Steve steps closer as he speaks, feeling more nervous than he expected to. “Probably should get in so the mosquitos don’t get us.”

“Right.” Eddie shakes his head, closing his eyes so he can focus. “Yes. Let’s get in.”

Steve grabs his hand and walks them both to the water. The water is chilly, but not uncomfortably cold. He knows in the next few weeks, the temperature will drop enough at night to cause the lake to be freezing cold. But right now, it’s perfect.

Being here with Eddie is perfect.

Eddie breathes out slowly as they keep walking further in, squeezing Steve’s hand.

“All good?” Steve asks when they’re waist deep.

“Yep. All good. How uh…how far do you wanna go?” Eddie’s looking out at what little they can see of the lake, even with the moonlight glistening off the tiny waves of the lake.

“Just a little more.”

Steve doesn’t take Eddie’s trust for granted here, knows that he’s asking a lot of him.

When the water is just below his collarbone, he stops.

Eddie is tense next to him, but doesn’t seem to be panicking.

“Okay?” Steve asks.

Eddie looks around and then settles back on Steve. “I’m okay.”

Something about the way he says it makes Steve pause, though.

“You can let it out if you need to, baby,” he offers. He’s not sure what it is specifically that makes him think Eddie’s on the edge of tears, but he wants to give him the chance to cry. “I’m right here.”

Eddie doesn’t sob, or cry, or do anything for a minute. They’re both looking out at the dark lake and the moon above, listening to crickets and a gentle breeze in the leaves of the trees nearby. Eddie’s breathing just stops for a few seconds and that’s all the warning Steve gets before he’s sniffling and talking.

“My dad was a piece of shit,” he starts. Steve is gonna follow his lead, and listen, and let Eddie tell him whatever he wants to. Even if that’s all he says. “He hated me. Pretty sure he hated my mom towards the end of her life, too. Anything that put attention on someone other than him was no good. That’s why he got involved with the closest thing Hawkins had to a mafia.”

Steve rubs his thumb against the side of Eddie’s hand under the water, prompting him to continue.

“He ranked pretty high with them so he got plenty of attention. Forgot that he had a wife and a kid. When my mom died, he temporarily got more attention from everyone. Made sure he looked like the mourning husband trying to be strong for the son he barely knew. Even at four and five years old I knew he was full of shit. But at least he was taking me with him sometimes, showing me cool shit. He got arrested when I was seven for petty theft and possession of drugs. Got lucky that the judge believed his sob story of being the only one who could take care of me.” Eddie scoffed. “Paid a fine with money he stole and had to do 80 hours of community service that his boss signed off on after a few weeks. Didn’t care that the only meals I ate were at school and the neighbor’s house when she saw me alone for dinner. Didn’t care that I never had school supplies or clothes that fit. Didn’t care that I missed school anytime I missed the bus, which was often because he never gave me an alarm clock to set to get up in time.”

Steve wants to cry, hearing how shitty Eddie’s childhood was, but he refuses to right now. He doesn’t want Eddie to stop talking.

“When I was nine, he taught me how to steal a car. I could barely see over the steering wheel, but it was the first time I made him proud.” Eddie clears his throat. “He got sent to prison when I was 11. I got put in the system because everything is a mess and Wayne wasn’t even listed as my uncle anywhere. Wayne heard about it all a few weeks later and didn’t stop pushing to have me in his care until they gave in. I’m surprised they put up so much of a fight considering they don’t usually care that much about poor kids with shit parents. Wayne fought for me and I didn’t even know how much he did until I was older.”

Steve glances over to see tears falling down Eddie’s face. He let go of Eddie’s hand to wrap his arm around his waist instead, pulling him against his side.

“He didn’t have to do that. He just knew what a piece of shit my dad was and apparently checked on me a few times a year without me or him knowing. And he told you about Paul.” Steve nods. “Paul was in and out a lot at first, made me suspicious. Thought he was up to no good and just using Wayne as a place to sleep when he wasn’t in the truck. But then he took me with him a few times over the summer and we got closer. I don’t think Wayne even knows how much that man loved him. He was gonna start working more local jobs sooner until I came into the picture and Wayne was struggling to keep up with bills. Long haul makes more money, so he stayed out. Made sure I had clothes and school supplies, made sure I ate three meals a day and had whatever snacks I wanted. Sent payments to the electric company before Wayne even got the bill so I never had to worry about sleeping through alarms or not being able to take a hot shower.”

Steve didn’t realize he was crying until Eddie reached his thumb up to wipe away a tear.

“He was my father in the ways that mattered to me, just like Wayne has been. Losing him was more painful than anything I feel about my dad dying now. All I feel now is guilt that I feel anything at all.”

Steve uses the arm wrapped around Eddie’s waist and the weightlessness the water allows to lift him up and guide his legs around his waist. He’s looking up at the man he loves, holding the back of his thighs, and wishing he could take every shitty feeling away with his words of comfort.

“You can feel however you feel. I’ll love you through it all,” Steve reassures him. Eddie’s breath catches at his words, and Steve knows he chose the right thing to say at the right time. “No one who cares about you is gonna judge you for having any emotion about your dad dying. If you wanted to stand in the middle of a table in the cafeteria at the school and cheer, I’d sit at the table and cheer you on. If you want to show up at his grave and scream and cry, I’ll hold your hand the whole time. So will Wayne. And so would Paul.”

Eddie sobs as he wraps his arms around Steve’s neck and hides his face against Steve’s neck. Steve can feel the wetness of his tears, can feel his own still falling into the water below. He doesn’t care how long they stay like that, doesn’t even care if this is all they do all night.

But only a few minutes later, Eddie is pulling back and looking down at Steve, hands playing with the wet ends of his hair.

“I didn’t expect any of this this weekend,” he admits. “I should learn to stop having expectations.”

Steve’s lips turn up in a half-smile as Eddie rests his forehead against his. “Better or worse than what you expected?”

Eddie snorts. “Better. Always better with you.”

Steve’s glad it’s dark enough to hide his blush, but he’s sure Eddie knows what he does to him by now. If he doesn’t, he will soon enough.

Eddie traces a line along Steve’s neck, gently poking at his moles as he watches his own movements. Steve holds him, lets him do what he wants, feels every touch like lightning.

“I love you,” he finally says, barely more than a whisper, like he’s unsure it’s okay, even after Steve’s confession. “I think I have for a while.”

Steve wants to kiss him, but this moment still feels like a part of Eddie’s monologue. He wants Eddie to lead now, to show him how to love him. Whatever he needs, Steve will give it willingly and gladly.

“How long until Wayne comes to make sure we didn’t drown?” Eddie asks.

“Probably not unless we’re still gone by morning.”

“As lovely as being in your arms all night sounds, I don’t know if I’d wanna stay in the water that long,” Eddie laughs as his legs tighten around Steve’s waist. Their mostly soft cocks brush against each other, making them both inhale loudly. “A little longer might not be so bad, though.”

Steve’s finding it harder not to kiss him, not to let his hands wander from Eddie’s thighs, up to his waist, back to his ass. He resists, but Eddie shifts his weight again and everything gets harder.

“You’re killing me.” Steve groans, letting his head fall back so he can look up at the stars in the sky instead of the ones in Eddie’s eyes.

“Look at me.” Eddie’s tone’s shifted to something serious, still adorned with an affection Steve can’t believe he gets to hear. Steve looks at him with his lips parted and unblinking eyes. “I wanna be yours. Will you let me?”

Steve nods. That’s all he can do.

Eddie’s lips are against his, gently coaxing them apart further so he can slip his tongue inside. Steve’s not even thinking about how he hasn’t brushed his teeth or eaten a mint since supper, the warmth of Eddie’s hands circling behind his back and rubbing his shoulders enough of a distraction even without his tongue gliding against the roof of his mouth.

Eddie’s hands are slow, but on a very clear path downwards as his tongue traces Steve’s bottom lip. Steve lets his own hands slip to Eddie’s lower back, lets a finger trace up and back down his spine.

Eddie shivers in his arms.

“Cold?” Steve whispers.

Eddie shakes his head. “Feels good.”

So Steve does it again, with more pressure, hoping Eddie gets the hint.

When Eddie’s hips grind forward, he knows he did.

They’re both nearly fully hard now, lips meeting again, hungrier and biting. Their moans vibrate between their chests, every movement rippling the water around them.

Eddie’s rocking his hips back and forth, friction against their cocks not quite enough to do more than get them more worked up.

The water doesn’t feel cool anymore, Steve’s body already adjusted to the temperature the moment Eddie’s hands were on him.

“Can I touch you?” Eddie asks, bringing Steve out of his thoughts about doing this in his pool when they got home. His hand is flat against Steve’s stomach, fingertips dragging through his happy trail.

“Want you to feel good too, love,” Steve trails one of his hands to Eddie’s front, stopping for a moment on the angry scars covering his side. “Together?”

Eddie slides impossibly closer, wrapping his hand around both of their cocks at once. Steve’s legs would’ve buckled without the help of the lake holding him up.

“Together is good,” Eddie smirks as his hand works them both over, squeezing at the tip the way Steve likes.

Steve had every intention of helping, but he’s doing all he can to keep his feet on the sandy ground and Eddie’s legs wrapped around his waist. He whimpers as Eddie leans in to kiss him slowly, a contradiction to his hand speeding up around them.

“Eddie, I’m…close.” Steve pants against his lips when he pulls back for air. His toes are curling in the sand below, and the small waves around them are splashing against their necks as Eddie’s hand moves faster. Steve’s bucking up into his touch, doesn’t care how desperate he seems.

“Me too, Stevie.” Eddie reassures him, just as breathless as Steve is.

Despite the words spoken and the increasing heat coiling in his belly, Steve gasps in surprise when he comes. He’s even more surprised when Eddie is right behind him, whispering Steve’s name repeatedly as his grip around them tightens then loosens.

Chests heaving, legs shaking, they stare at each other in the glow of the moonlight.

“I normally last a lot longer,” Steve breaks the silence.

Eddie breaks into loud laughter, head falling onto Steve’s shoulder before he realizes that the water is too high to do that without getting wet. He drops his legs and stands, keeping his arms wrapped around Steve’s waist for stability.

“New record for me, too, baby.”

“Next time, we’ll take our time.” Steve promises not only Eddie, but himself. He knows he has better self control than what Eddie just witnessed.

“You wanna head inside and take our time there?” Eddie’s smirking at him, fingers playfully teasing his sides under the water.

“Not sure I can be quiet enough.”

“Even if you bite a pillow?” Eddie pouts.

“I can be pretty loud,” Steve laughs, poking his bottom lip back to normal. “Plus, I’d like to be in one of our own beds when we ma- have sex.”

“Oh my god. Were you gonna say make love?” Eddie is squeezing his arms around him, lifting Steve up so most of his chest is out of the water. Steve’s hands rest against his shoulders, fingertips pruned from being in the water for a while.

“Maybe I was.” Steve knows he’s a sap. He doesn’t care if Eddie thinks it’s silly or stupid, but he does wanna avoid blowing this before it even has a chance to begin.

Eddie must see something in his eyes to keep him from pushing it more. He lets him back down slowly, soft smile on his face.

“I love that you care that much.” Eddie kisses the corner of Steve’s mouth. “I promise we’ll hold off on making love until we’re back home.”

Steve smiles shyly back at him.

“But I wouldn’t be opposed to getting my mouth on you after we shower.”

Steve smacks Eddie’s arm and rolls his eyes.

“You’re ridiculous. I love you.”

“You really do, don’t you?” Eddie sounds awestruck, like it’s suddenly hit him that this is happening, that Steve feels this much for him.

“I really do.”

🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸

Waking up in Steve’s arms for the second morning in a row felt too good to be true.

Most of this trip had felt too good to be true. Last night definitely felt like a dream.

He lets his eyes track over Steve’s bare chest, his neck, his lips pouting out as he sleeps. His eyelids are fluttering, but he’s still asleep, probably coming out of a dream.

Eddie’s fingers trace what’s left of the scar around his neck, touch light enough that Steve wouldn’t feel it in his sleep. He thinks about Steve’s bravery, how he dived head first into everything, be it protecting people from monsters or falling in love. Eddie knows Steve went without medical care after most run-ins in the Upside Down, and had only gotten some last time when Wayne insisted he do so while Eddie was in surgery.

The neck scars faded after they were patched up by a nurse, but many of his other wounds were deeper and infected, leaving a permanent reminder on his back and sides much like Eddie’s.

He traced along the outer lines of one of the scars shaped like a heart on his chest. Steve insisted it was just a weird oval, but Eddie insisted that it was a heart over his heart.

His chest hair has grown back in around it, nearly covering it up if you didn’t look close enough.

Eddie is close enough now.

It’s definitely a heart.

“Not sure how I feel about you staring at my chest that close,” Steve’s raspy voice fills his ear and he looks up to see Steve’s sleepy eyes looking at him. “Max at least had the decency to look from a distance.”

“Ha.” Eddie fake laughs. “I was just admiring your bountiful chest hair and the heart you wear on your sleeve.”

“It’s not a heart,” Steve groans as he covers Eddie’s head with his arms, pulling him on top of him. “You’re just blinded by love.”

“Who knew I’d be the optimist in this relationship?” Eddie breathes against Steve’s lips.

“Probably everyone who’s ever seen me in a relationship.” Steve kisses him quick, just a peck. “Let me up.”

“You’re the one who put me here.” Eddie doesn’t move. “Take me with you if you need to go so badly.”

“Eds, c’mon. I gotta brush my teeth.”

“So do I.”

Steve sighs. Eddie smiles.

“Fine.”

As Steve stands from the bed, Eddie wraps his legs around his waist, a mirror image to their time in the lake. Eddie’s not actually expecting Steve to carry him more than a few steps, but he blushes when he makes it all the way to the bedroom door.

“Still wanna come with me?” Steve raises his eyebrows like he knows Eddie didn’t expect him to take it this far.

“Can you seriously carry me down the hall?”

Steve stares blankly back at him. “I carried you for almost a mile when we got out of the Upside Down.”

“Touché.”

Steve manages to open the door with one hand before it goes back to Eddie’s leg, hoisting him up further so he has a better grip. Eddie just stares down at Steve’s face in amazement.

“Hey Wayne,” Steve says as they pass Wayne’s room. “Sleep okay?”

“Uh huh. There a reason you’re carrying the prince?” Wayne asks, causing Eddie to turn his head and scowl. “Wake up grumpy?”

“Woke up lazy.” Steve responded as he continued on the journey to the bathroom.

Once there, Steve set Eddie down on the floor and handed him his toothbrush. They brush their teeth together, smiling when they catch each other's eye in the mirror.

“Will you kiss me for real now?” Eddie asks after they’ve finished.

“Are you gonna walk to the kitchen by yourself or will I have to carry you?” Steve retorts.

“Your kiss will give me the power to make it.”

Steve snorts a laugh and leans in, his palm resting against Eddie’s jaw to pull him the last inch or so. The kiss is nothing like their back and forth. Steve consumes him, and Eddie lets him.

He doesn’t know how long they stand there, but he thinks it must be longer than they should.

Wayne clears his throat from the doorway. “Didn’t realize this was a part of brushin’ teeth these days.”

Eddie leaps away from Steve, panicked at the thought of Wayne knowing suddenly. He’s been out to Wayne for so long, he forgets that others probably aren’t comfortable being so open. Steve especially, who’s mentioned before that he wasn’t sure if he wanted to come out to everyone until he was sure they’d be okay with it.

“Relax, Ed. I clocked Steve months ago.” Wayne pushes past them to grab his toothbrush and toothpaste. “Move your relations outta here.”

“Relations?” Eddie gags. “Way to ruin the moment.”

“Sorry to ruin your delicate sensibilities. Get out.”

Steve pushes Eddie out of the small bathroom before he can respond. Eddie decides to focus on Steve’s hands on him instead of arguing further.

“Should we make breakfast?” Steve asks as they walk back to the bedroom to get dressed.

“I shouldn’t ever touch an oven, but I’ll watch you lovingly while you make breakfast, darling,” Eddie bats his eyelashes at Steve, who throws his shirt at him. “That’s not very nice. Did I not, and I quote, suck the soul-“

Steve’s hand covers his mouth while he sputters to cover Eddie’s voice from traveling out of the room.

“Jesus, the mouth on you.”

“That’s what you said last night.” Eddie’s words are muffled under Steve’s hand, but they both laugh. “I can make toast.”

“I’ll make the rest.”

Eddie spends the morning touching Steve as much as possible.

He spends the afternoon sneaking kisses and holding him in the hammock set up on the porch thanks to Wayne’s creativity.

He spends the evening watching Wayne and Steve fish while he drinks a beer and hands them whatever they need.

This is a peace that may only last until they leave tomorrow, but something tells him that this is only the beginning of a future Eddie never could’ve pictured for himself.

🎣🎣🎣🎣🎣🎣

five years later

Wayne slams the truck door a bit harder than he means to. The rain just started coming down harder and he wanted to get his bag in the cabin before it got worse.

When he enters the front door, the scent of freshly baked cookies wafts through the air and he smiles.

“Made it, boys!” He yells, though he’s pretty sure speaking at a normal volume would’ve been enough. The cabin hasn’t changed much, but Steve insisted on opening up the front portion so it felt more welcoming.

“Wayne!” Steve exclaims as he pops up from behind the counter of the kitchen. “You just missed Eddie. He went out to the trail.”

Wayne gives Steve a tight hug. At Steve’s frown, he laughs. “Sorry ‘bout the wet clothes. Started raining the last couple miles in and got heavier just as I was leavin’ the truck.”

“Oh no.” Steve groaned.

Just as he spoke, the back door slammed open and Eddie dropped his camera bag on the floor.

Wayne and Steve both took in the sight of him, drenched from head to toe, dripping onto the tile floor, and laughed.

“I hate the outdoors.”

“You’re a nature photographer. You hate the rain.” Steve walks over to him, still laughing under his breath. He picks up the bag before leaning in to kiss his cheek.

Wayne watches the exchange, fighting tears back at the reason he was invited to their cabin this weekend.

Eddie was proposing to Steve and wanted Wayne to be there to capture it with his camera. He didn’t care that Wayne was an old man who could barely operate a camera, he just wanted someone to do it.

He knew Eddie was also a little nervous and having Wayne there would help keep him calm.

Why he was nervous, Wayne didn’t know.

They couldn’t legally get married, but they might as well be anyway.

“Wayne!” Eddie bounces over to him and throws his arms around him, forgetting for a moment that he’s soaked. “You’re here!”

“I’m here. I’d like to be less wet, though.”

Eddie backs up and Wayne pats his shoulder.

“Both of you should go get changed. Dinner’s ready in ten minutes.” Steve interrupts on his way to put Eddie’s camera bag in their room.

“Yes, dear,” Eddie replies. Steve turns and glares for a moment before continuing on his way. Once he’s out of sight, Eddie sighs. “God, I love that man.”

“That’s why I’m here, ain’t it?” Wayne playfully shoves at Eddie’s arm. “We better listen to him. I’m starvin’ and I think he’d make us fend for ourselves if we show up at the table dripping wet.”

As Wayne changes, he can hear Steve laughing in their room, Eddie talking about something he saw outside in the usual dramatic way he spoke. He thinks back to the first time he brought his boys here together, how hushed they tried to be, how hesitant.

He looked over at a photo Eddie framed for this room so Wayne had something when he came to stay.

Paul was smiling at the camera, arm wrapped around Eddie’s shoulders, Wayne looking at both of them with a smile. He remembers laughing right after the picture was taken, and giving in and buying them both cotton candy. They insisted it wouldn’t make them sick, then proceeded to both rush to the nearest garbage can after they got off the Gravitron at the fair.

“Wayne! Steve’s bullying me!” Eddie yells.

“You probably deserve it!” He yells back.

“Unbelievable!” Eddie screams.

“Ha!” Steve yells.

Wayne shakes his head as he makes his way out to the chaos he chose to be a part of this weekend.

[pedropascallme]

Set My Mind Free

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x f!Reader

Summary: “'Just wanted to…' You rolled your eyes, trying to explain yourself, 'After our conversation last week—you and me—I thought it was only fair. I mean, he waited by me, right? So what kind of Sergeant would I be if I didn’t look out for him? Just repaying his...kindness.'”

Warnings: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI!!!!) oral (f receiving), p in v sex, intercrural sex, dirty talk, praise, very mild degradation, canon typical violence, detailed descriptions of wounds, allusions to PTSD, reader experiences a very detailed panic attack, discussion of panic attacks/anxiety, discussion of drug use and addiction (not reader), implied age gap (ages not mentioned), enemies to frenemies to lovers, hurt/comfort, I know little to nothing about how the military works, if I missed anything please let me know!!

AN: Part 1 here!!

By 4:00 AM, you’d stopped crying and told yourself that you would go to sleep.

But by 5:00 AM you were still awake, staring up at the ceiling and listening to the faint rhythm of your heart.

There was nothing you could do.

There was one thing you could do—but it required a sense of decency, and a level of respect that you worried wouldn’t translate properly from your brain to your mouth.

You didn’t know what you would say, if there was anything to say at all, and yet you still felt the urge to find Simon.

But he was probably asleep, just like everybody else on base, and likely in no mood to see you if he was up.

And you were worried how you’d act, seeing him at his lowest.

After several minutes of going back and forth between your limited options, you slipped out of bed, donning a sweatshirt and making sure you remembered shoes this time around. You grabbed the shirt—maybe he’d take it back now that he knew what it was like.

You puttered inside your room for a moment longer, hesitating, before you found the nerve to open your door and walk down the hall to the infirmary.

It was dark out, but the floods outside forced streaks of light into the barracks. You could hear nothing but your own footsteps, and the fact that nobody else was awake to see you like this; hair stuck to your temples from the tears you’d shed, carrying a blood-soaked shirt to a man who probably didn’t want to see anybody—least of all you—was reassuring.

You braced yourself for the grating sound of the infirmary doors against the floor, pushing them open slowly to keep the unnecessary racket at bay.

He was asleep in the same cot you had been in, and he managed to make it look even more cramped than it had felt when you’d been in it: lying on his back, he’d propped his head up with the single pillow he’d been offered, clearly trying to keep his feet from dangling off the end of the mattress.

It didn’t work, and he still had to bend at the knee to fit in the cot properly.

He’d been stripped from the waist up, and the left side of his abdomen was covered in gauze and bandages that likely concealed stitches over an ugly wound. But he still looked beautiful, and you kicked yourself for even daring to allow the thought to run through your head.

He still had his mask on. Of course he did.

You situated yourself in the same seat Gaz had been sitting in when you’d woken up, setting the shirt to the side and just looking at him.

That’s all you could do. Look.

You wouldn’t wake him up. You had nothing to say. And even if you did wake him, it was unlikely he’d be able to say anything of substance with all the morphine they probably had him on

So you sat quietly, staring at him; his mask, his bandages. Your wounds were in the same place, which meant nothing, but it still filled you with a profound sense of awe, a subtle yanking in your abdomen.

“Figured you’d come by.” Ghost’s voice broke through the silence of the infirmary, and you flinched.

“Fucking—Christ, Simon,” you sighed, gripping your thighs as you collected yourself, “How long have you been awake?”

He stared up at you, ignoring your question. “Pick a new name yet?” When you looked at him quizzically, he elaborated, “Not Berserker anymore?”

“Oh—no,” you had forgotten about wanting to change your callsign—too many things had been plaguing your mind, pushing your concern about a name to the back. “Still Berserker. For now.”

The conversation fizzled out, but you didn’t want it to end. You blurted the first thing that came to mind.

“I never thanked you.”

“For?” He seemed oddly relaxed for a man who’d just been shot.

“For?” You mocked him, almost playfully; what else would you possibly have to thank him for? “Saving me from, y’know…bleeding out.”

“My job.” Simon shifted, trying to stretch in the tight confines of the cot.

“No, but…it isn’t, is it?” You found yourself questioning his words aloud, “Your job is…lead, call the shots…”

There may have been nuances in his title that made it his responsibility to show compassion, but there was definitely nothing that said he had to kneel beside you while you bled; use his clothing in place of a bandage; care for you after you had done something so stupid and avoidable.

You bit your tongue, remembering how you’d screamed at him so intensely about how he didn’t do anything that wasn’t in the job description.

“Whatever, I’m…” you sighed, furrowing your brows and giving yourself another moment to back out of saying the next words. “I’m glad it’s you I call Lieutenant. Anybody else probably would’ve seen me as a lost cause—back there, and in…in a lot of the situations we end up in.” You couldn’t stop yourself from praising him, not after the events of the night and your self-reflection. “You’re a good Lieutenant.”

He didn’t respond. You were too uncomfortable to deal with any more silence, so you continued.

“You’re a good person, Simon.”

“Why me?” You’d hardly finished saying his name when he bombarded you with the question.

“What?” You didn’t understand what he was asking.

“Gaz is your mate, yeah?” In the low light of the room, you could see his eyes scanning your face, “‘Nd Soap. Both of 'em would’a helped.” He tilted his head back, and you realized what he was talking about.

You tried to push down the way your heart screamed for him.

“I trust you.” You answered with your brain instead.

“You trust them.” It was amazing to you that a man in his condition still had the energy to argue about such superfluous things.

“Yeah,” you shrugged, “But it’s…different. I think.” You didn’t care to explain.

Slowly, he nodded, as if trying to deconstruct the meaning of your words.

“And, you know…” You finally found your confidence, “Figured if I was gonna die, I could at least find out what it was like to have your hands on me first.”

You didn’t know why that was the direction you went in, taking a lighthearted approach and praying that it would come off as a joke.

“Could’a jus’ asked,” Simon sighed, and to your relief, he sounded amused. “Always wanted you to give me the go 'head.”

You felt your heart stutter, but you rationalized that all the drugs he was on were probably making him loopy.

“Would’a been nicer wi'out all the blood—better story for the grandkids.” He closed his eyes.

You just hummed, smiling. He must have been drugged to the nines.

He went silent again, and you stayed seated beside him, listening to the way his breathing leveled out as he drifted off to sleep.

If what Gaz said was true, and if Simon really had kept vigil over you while you were out cold, then it was the least you could do now for him. It was funny, in a melodramatic sort of way, thinking about how the two of you had switched places.

When you were certain he was asleep, you dropped your voice to a whisper.

“I brought you your shirt back,” you picked it up from the spot you’d left it when you had first come in, crumpled on the chair next to you. “I know you don’t want it…but…I don’t think I do, either.” You smiled, adding, “Maybe a clean one.”

You paused, half expecting him to respond. When he didn’t, sound asleep, you continued.

“I’ve seen all the shirts you own. Not a lot on rotation.”

You stewed in your thoughts, realizing that having him trapped as an unconscious audience gave you the perfect opportunity to tell him the truth—at least to a degree.

“I just don’t want to have this reminder of my own fuck up. And of what you had to do to…”

To keep me from dying, you didn’t say—couldn’t say, despite the fact that he wouldn’t hear you.

“But if I give it to you now, as a—if we treat it like a gag, like it’s something funnier than it is…” You pulled at the fabric, “At least…let me care, Simon. Even if it’s just this once. Pretend you’re ok with being cared for.”

Let me show you how deeply I care.

You folded the shirt in your lap, putting it on the small table next to the bed and rising from your seat.

You let your gaze rake over him, once again taking note of how oversized he was in the cot. In a way, though, as he lay, contorted and bandaged, he looked so, so small. Like a child that couldn’t bear to separate from their first bed; desperate for comfort that he couldn’t find and wouldn’t admit to craving.

How the mighty fall.

But he’d be out of here in a day. He wouldn’t let himself waste away in the infirmary—he wouldn’t be like you.

You couldn’t help the way you reached out to graze your fingers over the hem of his balaclava. For how often you grumbled about wanting to tear it off his face, you had no intention of doing so now.

You knew better. You just wanted to feel that part of him.

It was soft. You smiled.

Of course it was.

You brushed your thumb over the fabric that covered his cheek, smiling softly. Maybe the emotions you’d experienced over the course of the night were still running high, but you felt like you might tear up.

And you felt like maybe you’d be ok showing him this kind of affection even if he was awake.

You did your best to remain unwavering in the face of yearning.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you, LT,” you pulled your hand back from his face, “Won’t do it again.” 

~~~

The sun was coming up when you left the infirmary, and the hall glowed with an eerie pre-dawn atmosphere that comforted you in the strangest of ways.

You had time; he would see another sunrise.

You found yourself knocking on Gaz’s door, eager to apologize for snapping at him hours prior during your rampage.

He opened the door, already dressed, and the smile on his face helped you remember that no matter what you did, he understood.

Kyle always understood.

“Up early.” He noted, taking in your disheveled appearance.

“So are you,” you pointed out, and he smirked. “I wanted to say sorry.”

“For what?” He swung the door open wider, walking back into his room and silently beckoning you inside.

“Screaming at you last night—this morning,” you kind of laughed, feeling awkward for the storm of feelings you’d lashed him with. “I don’t want you to…I’m not mad at you. Or anything. And I don’t want you to be mad at me. I shouldn’t have snapped like that.”

You walked into his room, closing the door behind you, and he laughed.

“I’m not mad,” he sat at his desk, “Why would I be mad?”

“Because I cursed you out after you saw our Lieutenant get bodied,” you sighed, trying to make the situation seem lighter with your phrasing. “Shitty of me to do.”

“You were upset.” Gaz looked at you in a way that made you feel more at ease; he could see through you, but you didn’t really mind it right now.

“Yeah,” you nodded, “I was.”

“You still upset?”

“N—no…” You measured your feelings; you still felt a strange buzzing throughout your body, but you chalked it up to lack of sleep and the rush of adrenaline you'd been dealt. “I’m alright.”

You hesitated, looking around Gaz’s room to avoid having to meet his eyes.

“I went to see him.”

“Uh-huh.” Gaz raised an eyebrow at you.

“Just wanted to…” You rolled your eyes, trying to explain yourself, “After our conversation last week—you and me—I thought it was only fair. I mean, he waited by me, right? So what kind of Sergeant would I be if I didn’t look out for him? Just repaying his...kindness.”

Gaz didn’t say anything, but his lips morphed into a poorly concealed smirk.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he shook his head, “Just happy to see you two getting along.”

“Yeah, well—now that we’ve both been brought back from the brink in the span of less than a month, it’s a little easier to empathize with him.”

“Is'at it?” Gaz looked up at you knowingly, and you rolled your eyes again.

“It is.” You lied.

“Right,” he nodded, trying not to come off too pleased. “Good.”

“I’m happy that you’re not mad.” You muttered.

“And I’m happy that you’re feeling better,” he replied, voice tender. “You sleep at all?”

You shrugged, shaking your head.

“Try.” Was all he said.

“I know,” you nodded, heaving a sigh, “I will.”

He stood, patting you on the back and leading you out of his room.

“I’m serious, by the way,” he shook your shoulder playfully, “Happy that you and him have found common ground.”

“Yeah,” you smiled softly, turning to face him when you’d stepped over the threshold, “Me too.”

~~~

A full day had passed before there was a knock on your door. When you opened it, you weren’t as surprised as you thought you’d be to see Ghost standing opposite you.

“You’re up.” You stated, rather dumbly. He looked as though he had never been in the infirmary at all, clad in all black, gloves and balaclava on.

“Nothin' to do in ‘ere.” He grumbled, and you smiled.

“I think that’s the point, Simon.”

His eyes darted to the side before his gaze settled back on you, as if he was making only a halfhearted attempt at rolling them.

“Thought I told you to keep this.” Ghost held his hand out, and you recognized the shirt.

You sighed. “I kinda just figured—I dunno. Thought it would be…funny? You were so drugged up. You looked…” You tried to think of an excuse, coming up dry. You shrugged, “Thought you might finally want it back.”

“Wasn’t drugged.” His eyes narrowed a tad, having ignored everything you said to him after you mentioned him being drugged.

“What?” You furrowed your brow.

“Wasn’t drugged,” he huffed, “Don’t like 'at shit.”

“It’s morphine.” You smiled, amused by his discontent at the notion of taking painkillers.

Your delight at his distrust of anesthetics almost drowned out the loud thought at the front of your mind as you remembered the words he said to you as he lay in the medical cot.

Always wanted you to give me the go ahead.

You shook it off; you had been joking, and he had been joking back.

“They don’t give it to me. Don’t let ‘em.” His voice became a bit smaller, and you tried to reason with him.

“But it makes you feel better—great, even.” You offered an amused sigh, tilting your head.

“Brother was a druggy.” He stared daggers at you, and you were taken aback.

“Oh—I—”

“Don’t,” he shook his head before you could come up with an appropriate response. “'Eard it all before. Dead, either way.”

You nodded, resigned. Your gaze fell to the floor.

You knew a lot about Simon, but there were certain things he kept closer to his chest. He dropped lore at random moments—usually in an effort to shut people down, but this felt sincere. Vulnerable, even.

“Do you wanna come in?”

You could see his brow furrow, the familiar crease between his eyes appearing.

“Into your room?” He looked at you curiously before just barely nodding, “Sure.”

You stepped to the side, raising an arm to invite him in.

He walked slowly, taking in the look of the space; it was plain, barely decorated—like most of the rooms on base—but there were still pieces of you that lingered.

A blue hairbrush on your nightstand, pens with gnawed-on caps scattered about, half-finished reports on your desk.

He pulled the chair from your desk and sat. You couldn’t tear your eyes from him, as hard as you tried.

He was clearly still uncomfortable, tilting slightly to one side, but you couldn’t help but feel as though he looked right in your room.

You settled on the edge of your bed, pulling your legs up to your chest.

“You doin’ a'right?” He cleared his throat, worried that he’d made the situation uncomfortable by mentioning his brother.

“Yeah,” you nodded, looking back up at him. “Better.”

“Look, uh…tired.” He was slow to say it.

“Thanks, Simon,” you laughed sardonically, but tried to show him you were only kidding. “Always know what to say.”

“Meant—'ave you not been sleeping?” He tried to save face.

“Not well.” You chewed the inside of your cheek.

He nodded, eyes flickering over your form before trailing back to your face.

“Something keepin' you up?”

“Wish it was that simple,” you swallowed, tightening your grip around your legs where they pressed against your chest. “I’m, um…the thought of sleeping is pretty…daunting? Lately.”

“You scared?”

“Putting it lightly.”

There was a long pause, during which he seemed to study you. You didn’t squirm under his gaze like you normally would—something about this was more comfortable.

“'Ad a panic attack my first night in the barracks.” Simon spoke suddenly, but maintained a casual tone.

“What?”

He nodded, rolling his shoulders back slightly.

“Thought I’d made a mistake. Thought I’d…” And here it was, more bits of his lore—but again being shared in a manner that made you feel like it was more than just Ghost offering insight into his brutality.

This was Simon offering insight into his ability to feel.

“Early two-thousands, lots of, uh…propaganda, 'at I fell for, y’know, jus’ like everybody else,” he spread his legs, resting his elbows on his thighs as he recounted his experience.

You searched his eyes, though he didn't bother to look at you. He'd been a soldier for nearly as long as you’d been alive; you wondered what it was like.

“Didn’t know if I’d see the next morning. Didn’t know if I’d made the wrong choice, or what.” He took a deep breath.

For a moment, even in the mask and in his brooding, you saw Simon clearer than ever, without so much as a hint of Ghost.

“It was like 'at for a long time.”

“I’m no rookie, Lieutenant,” you scoffed, but it lacked any real bite. “I know how it is.”

He looked at you, almost pleadingly, for a moment, before his gaze settled.

“Point is…” he hesitated, “Don’t know if I 'ave a point, really.” He tilted his head back, staring at the ceiling before meeting your gaze once more. “Thought I was…valiant for pushin’ it down.” He looked at you pointedly, “I wasn’t.”

You nodded solemnly. He was right.

He wasn’t telling you directly that he thought you were burning yourself out; that he noticed you struggling; that he saw the way you were trying to ignore the mental toll, but he was right. And you both knew it.

“Sure you’ve 'eard it before from people you’d…” he shook his head, his sentence trailing off before he finished the thought. “But, if you need anything…”

“Yeah,” you swallowed, suddenly wishing you could reach out and pull him closer; allow yourself the comfort of falling into him and finding safety curled against his form. But you didn’t act on the urge, responding instead with a curt nod and a weak smile. “Thanks.”

He nodded, eyes still focused on your face. He shifted in the seat he’d taken, standing up slowly—too slowly.

“Take an Advil, Simon.” You tried not to make your voice sound too pleading.

He waved you off. “Yeah.”

“I’m serious.”

“I know,” he turned to look down at you. “I know.”

“Won’t kill you.”

“Don’t push it.”

You remained on your bed, hugging your knees to your chest, as he walked himself out of your room.

He paused, hand hovering over the knob.

“I like your callsign,” he finally opened the door, throwing his final words back at you as an afterthought, “Glad you 'aven't changed it. Suits you.”

You didn't ask him to explain, didn’t have the energy to call after him. You were too focused on the fact that he'd left the shirt on your desk; once again leaving you with a piece of him that you didn't know how to handle.

~~~

You didn’t want to check the time, fully aware that it was an early hour nobody else would be awake to see.

Your heart was beating too fast, and it traveled to your ears to create an obnoxious, suspenseful thump.

Were you dying? Or did it just feel like you were?

You could feel the sweat on your body, dampening your sheets; making them cling to you in unruly patterns that would surely press into your skin, leaving faint lines to show for your lack of sleep. But even soaked in your own sweat, cold to the touch, you felt like you were burning—like you had been stuck to some kind of pyre and set alight.

You were back in that hazy state. Underwater and out of control.

Every time you slept, you would dream; every dream you had became a nightmare.

In every nightmare, you were back on the ground.

Your breathing had been labored when you woke up, and though you were still panting, the nausea that had lurched within you now subsided into an inconsistent waver that occasionally rolled over your stomach.

You sat up, shoving your head between your knees and counting your breaths.

Five in; hold for five; eight out; hold for two.

Your legs were shaking, and your skin was numb, but you could still feel the press of your knees to your temples as you sat there, counting.

And then as soon as it had begun, it was over.

Maybe not over entirely, but you’d overcome the peak and were now on a steady decline.

You felt tears pricking the corners of your eyes, and it made you feel weak; a special ops soldier who panicked and cried could hardly be called a soldier at all.

The conversation you’d had with Simon came back to you, remembering his random divulgence of the fear he’d faced when he first joined the military. But you weren’t a rookie, you weren’t new to this—the only part you were unfamiliar with was the genuine fear.

He’d said that trying to get over it on one’s own wasn’t the heroic option he’d thought it was.

And he’d implied that he’d be happy to help.

On shaky legs, feeling practically boneless, you walked to his room, tiptoeing as you tried to keep yourself small.

It wasn’t hard—you already felt meek, crushed by your nerves.

You lifted a hand to his door hesitantly, unsure if he’d even be awake; unsure of what exactly you wanted from him.

But you did knock, and he opened the door, looking at you expectantly.

You swallowed. “Can I come in?”

He didn’t say anything, moving to the side and gesturing vaguely into his room. You hurried in, and Simon closed the door, walking forward to stand in front of you as you puttered around his room.

“What—” He began, but you cut him off.

“I have been pushing it down.”

“Mm?” You saw his eyes contort in confusion.

“The other day. You said you thought you had been valiant to push it down—said I could come to you if I needed anything.” Your words were rushed, and maybe louder than they should’ve been.

“Said ‘if you need anything,’ and then—"

“Simon.”

He held up a hand in concession.

“I’ve been trying to ignore it, and it isn’t working. I’m—” You felt a sudden onset of emotion, voice breaking. You tried to swallow the lump that formed in your throat to no avail. “I’m scared.”

“Of what?” He asked, and his voice came out low, quiet—almost as if he was attempting to sound softer.

“I don’t know.” You admitted.

He nodded, still standing at a distance. His eyes stayed trained on your face.

“I can’t sleep, I can’t—I feel like, I dunno, maybe it’s just because of how…unexpected…it was. But lying out there, on the fucking ground, on the dirt, bleeding, I felt peace, LT,” you had given up on holding back the tears, and they flowed freely down your cheeks. “I could accept what was coming. And now I’m back, I’m here, I’m alive, and I—I’m sore. Like, in my—in my soul, I’m sore, and I’m so, so fucking tired.” You took a shuddered breath. “And I’m scared.”

Ghost was quiet, but he finally moved, situating himself on the edge of his bed and motioning for you to join him.

“Sit.”

You obliged, wiping your tears with the back of your hand as you sat next to him.

He sighed, staring at the wall. “Not something you jus' move on from.”

“But I want to get better.” You argued, swallowing another sob.

“Y’will. In time.”

“When?”

“Can’t tell you.”

“Need to know basis?” You rolled your eyes, still sour about being left out of the last mission.

“Yeah,” he turned his head to look at you, and for the first time, you recognized the exhaustion in his eyes. “But you’re the one who’ll know." He moved to rest his hand on your knee. "S'not an answer anybody else can give you.”

Ghost didn't do physical affection the way Soap and Gaz did, and a gesture as forward as placing a hand on your leg felt deeply intimate coming from him.

You liked it. Partnered with his words, the weight of his touch made you feel better.

“Some help you are…” You smiled softly, glancing at him in your peripheral as you sniffled.

“Talkin’ about it, aren’t you?” You could see the movement of his brow as he raised it beneath the balaclava.

You sighed, nodding an affirmative.

“Talked to Gaz about it?”

“No…not—not like this,” you turned to face him.

His hand slipped off your leg in a manner that seemed almost reluctant. Immediately, you missed the warmth of his palm.

When he looked down at you in his trademarked silence, you continued.

“I trust you.”

You thought his eyes might’ve creased, giving away a smile under the balaclava, but you didn’t dwell on it.

“Can I ask you something?” The question popped into your head, and you figured now was as good a time as any.

“Wha’s’at?” He shifted on the bed, giving himself more space to look at you without having to crane his neck.

“You weren’t drugged the other day.”

“S'not a question,” he pointed out. “No. I wasn't. Told you ‘at.”

“So, you were just…joking? When you made the, uh…that remark about…grandkids.” You chewed the inside of your cheek, "About me giving you the go ahead?"

This time, you were certain he was smiling.

“D’you think I was joking?”

“I—maybe…” You chewed the inside of your cheek.

He shrugged, leaning back on his hands.

“You’re tired, Simon.” Unable to get a straight answer from him, you changed the subject.

“Projecting a bit?” He straightened back up, folding his arms, and you frowned at him.

“Why haven’t you been sleeping?”

“Rarely do.”

“Are you scared?”

“Not th’first time I’ve been shot at, love.” He was deflecting.

“Are you still hurting?”

He hesitated. With a huff, he answered.

“…I guess. Li'l bit, yeah.”

“Can I please just give you something for it?” You weren’t trying to beg, but it certainly came off as if you were, "Just some Advil?"

His gaze shifted around the room, and then back to you.

“Will it make y’feel better?” He tilted his head at you.

“It’ll make you feel better.” You countered.

He heaved a sigh, and you saw his shoulders sag a bit in defeat.

“A'right,” he nodded, “Yeah. Fine.”

You grinned at him through the tears that had dried on your face, rising from his bed and speeding down the hall to your own room. You grabbed the bottle of ibuprofen on your nightstand, then moved just as quickly back to his room.

“Take two.” You fished the pills from the bottle when you situated yourself on the bed again, holding them out to him.

“One.”

“Two.”

“Half of one.”

“Jesus Christ. Simon—”

“Fuckin' with you.” He took the pills from your hand.

You watched a bit too keenly when he pulled the balaclava up over his jaw to place the pills on his tongue. You could see the tip of the scar that brushed over his top lip.

He swallowed the pills dry, tugging his mask back down.

“Happy?”

“Thrilled.” You smiled, and it was genuine.

“Y’smiling at me, sweetheart,” he sighed, “Gone mental from exhaustion?”

“Maybe,” you rolled your eyes playfully, “Maybe I’m just…”

He stared at you, waiting for you to finish your thought.

“I’m glad you’re alive…” You sighed, staring at his chest rather than his eyes.

“I’m glad you’re alive.” He echoed your words, a bit more decisively.

You could tell he meant it.

There was a silence in the room, one that allowed the tension to really resonate. But it wasn’t uncomfortable—if anything, maybe it was necessary.

“Think you’d rather stay ‘ere tonight?”

“Here?” Your brows furrowed, unsure if you’d heard him correctly.

“Yeah,” he nodded, “Could both benefit from some company.” He added, “Up to you.”

You absorbed the question, nodding slowly.

“Yeah. That would…that’d be nice.”

"Go on." He shifted on the mattress, motioning to the head of the bed.

Simon watched you maneuver yourself up the bed, kicking your legs under the covers and pulling them up to your chin. When you'd settled, he worked his way to a more comfortable spot. He lay next to you above the blankets; mask on, arms folded over his chest.

It wasn’t the way you’d imagined getting into bed with him—and you often felt ashamed for thinking about getting into bed with him at all—but it was comforting all the same.

“Let me ask you something.” He looked over at you when you’d made yourself comfortable.

“Okay.”

“You serious? ‘Bout wantin’ t’feel my hands on you?” His voice was low but carried a playful tone, as if he were baiting you into a confession.

“What?” You laughed.

“In the infirmary, ‘fore I said that stuff about givin’ me—”

“Simon?”

“Mm?”

“Do you think I was serious?”

You rolled over onto your side, pleased with yourself. If he wouldn’t give you a straight answer, you wouldn’t give him one, either.

~~~

Simon was still in the same position he’d gone to sleep in when you woke up; lying on his back with his mask on, arms folded over his chest.

You had managed to position yourself against him, face pushed into his bicep. You found yourself wishing he had moved; tried to get closer to you, given some indication that he had noticed your shift and embraced it.

But no matter.

You snuck out of Ghost’s room as the sun came up, eager to avoid any prying eyes—if only to save yourself from the embarrassment of having to explain that nothing had actually happened at all.

But it had been a sounder sleep than you’d anticipated; he was warm, solid next to you, and that alone made you feel more at ease than you had in a while.

You found yourself in front of his door for a second night in a row.

“You a'right?” He opened the door on your second knock.

“I—yeah…” you answered, “It’s…I don’t…”

“Don’t want to be alone?” He finished the sentence for you, and you nodded.

He stepped aside, wordlessly, giving you space to walk through the door.

You had been truthful—you didn’t want to be alone. You couldn’t handle the idea of being trapped with your thoughts again in the dark of your room when you knew what was looming just behind your eyelids.

But the whole truth was that you wanted to be with him.

He tugged haphazardly at the blankets in an attempt to make the bed more appealing. Not that he really had to; you were tired, and it didn’t matter whether the bed you crawled into was made or not, as long as he was in it with you.

When he’d made the bed to his liking, you undid his hard work in a split second as you got comfortable under the covers.

You looked up at him. He stood by the edge of the bed, looking back at you.

“Left without sayin' anything this morning.”

“You were asleep,” you pointed out. “Why? Were you gonna make me breakfast?”

“Not with ‘at attitude.” He scoffed, and you laughed quietly.

He situated himself next to you, once again lying above the covers.

“I won’t make this a habit,” you muttered, “I promise.”

“S’a’right,” he shook his head, “Not really a problem, far as I see it.”

“Oh?”

“You ‘eard me.” He tilted his head back, closing his eyes.

He seemed so much more at ease in his own space, which begged the question:

“How come you wear the mask to sleep?” You couldn’t help yourself. “I mean—it’s your room, Simon. Nobody’s gonna see you.”

“You might.” His eyes reopened, and he tilted his head to the side to look at you.

“But I know what you look like,” you smirked, “I know who you are. And you’re not Ghost.”

“S’not true.” He mumbled.

“It is,” you doubled down, “Outside of this room, sure, but in here—in bed, at the very least—you’re all Simon.”

He was quiet for a minute.

“So ‘ow come you don’t wanna be Berserker?”

“Told you—just doesn’t feel like me.”

“But I’m still Ghost.”

“Yeah.”

“But I’m also…not.”

You hesitated. “Well, when you make it sound so…complicated…”

“I like your callsign.”

“Why?” You were genuinely curious to know what he thought.

“Thought I said,” he sighed, “Suits you.”

“You never said why.” You pressed him for more.

“You flip on a dime,” he explained with a sigh, “Go into this, uh, wild state. Pretty thing, goin’ completely berserk on the field—always liked it.” He exhaled a quiet, one-breath laugh, “And you’re damn near impossible to kill.”

You digested his words, but only one point stuck with you, and it made your heart flutter.

“You think I’m pretty?” You spoke coyly, covering your excitement with a playful tone.

He tensed his shoulders before letting them drop with a sigh of faux exasperation.

“Yeah,” he nodded, “I think you’re pretty.”

You smiled, staring up at him from your spot on the bed—his bed.

“‘Nd you think I am, too—beggin’ me to take my mask off.” There was a smirk in his voice.

“Simon,” you rolled your eyes, turning away from him, “You ruined it.”

~~~

After spending several nights in Simon’s bed, you’d become used to the process of falling asleep to banter that bordered flirtation; of sleeping soundly and without distress; of waking up earlier than you’d like to, and creeping out of his room.

On the morning of the fourth day, you had woken up with his arm draped over your side, his hand pressed lightly against your stomach. He had positioned himself so that his arm perched over your hips rather than your waist to avoid brushing the scar that lingered even after your stitches had dissolved.

Maybe it had been an accident, just a subconscious pull to the heat of your body as you lay next to him, but it felt too precise to be coincidental—and that made you feel a sort of smug adoration.

You had stayed a little longer that morning.

You weren’t keeping it a secret, per se, but it felt wrong to put this newfound arrangement on display. Even if it was only something between coworkers—friends?—that benefitted your sleep schedule and made you feel less jumpy, you didn’t like the notion that people in the barracks would suspect it was something more.

Maybe you didn’t care about what other people thought.

Maybe it was more about what Simon thought; what his intentions were; whether or not you’d be overstepping by making it known that you’d been sleeping—and only sleeping—with him.

You strolled into the mess hall feeling well rested and hungry. Your appetite had finally returned, and you were happy to sate it.

“You look better,” Gaz addressed you from across the table, “Sleeping?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, “Been managing to go the whole night.”

“Good,” he sipped his coffee through a smile, “That’s good.”

You hadn’t told him it was because you’d been finding comfort in the Lieutenant’s bed.

Ghost and Soap approached the table, taking their respective seats.

Soap threw his tray down next to Gaz, grumbling as he sat.

“What’s wrong with you?” Gaz nudged Johnny with his shoulder.

“Slept nae a fuckin’ wink last night.” Soap mumbled into his coffee.

“Why?” You questioned.

Soap sighed, shrugging in defeat.

“Bet you could get something from the infirmary,” you suggested, “Something to knock you on your ass. If you keep getting no sleep, I mean.”

“That what you’ve been doing?” Gaz asked you, and your mind went blank.

“Hoping it doesn’t come t’that.” Johnny inadvertently saved you from having to answer Gaz’s question by responding to your initial prompt.

“Tried countin’ sheep, Johnny?” Simon finally piped up from his seat next to you.

“Bile yer heid,” Soap shot a deadpan look at him.

“English.” Ghost huffed.

“Fuck yerself—y’keep it up, I’ll crawl into bed with you, LT.” Soap turned to look at you, smiling as he quirked a brow “If there’s any room.”

“What?” You tried not to let the sudden wave of panic show on your face.

There’s no way he could know.

Was there?

“What?” Johnny laughed, brow furrowed, “Look’t ‘im—be a shock if he alone could fit into one o’the beds.”

You faked a quick laugh, looking over at Simon, who hadn’t reacted at all to Soap’s taunt. He remained completely unfazed, watching his coffee steam; seemingly unaware of your knee-jerk response.

It was like he had not a care in the world.

Suddenly, your appetite was gone.

“I have reports to finish.”

“Still?” Gaz looked at you incredulously.

“Yeah,” you nodded, “Been putting them off too long.”

Picking up your tray, you wandered out of the mess hall and towards your room.

~~~

You forced yourself to stay in your own bed that night, and the night after that.

And it felt torturous, and not because of the nightmares or the creeping sense of dread—though that certainly didn’t help your quest to find independence. This discomfort was more about your lack of understanding.

You didn’t know why you were so concerned about other people on the base seeing you with him—nervous at the notion of your own friends knowing about this arrangement.

You didn’t understand why Ghost had become so attuned to your needs or what he meant by not seeing you in his bed as a problem.

He thought you were pretty. At least you knew that much.

Not that it did anything to help quell your doubts.

You had started sleeping in the same shirt that had caused you so much grief; after doing your best to lift the stains, you’d managed to make it seem like the shirt hadn’t been through hell and back.

Now if only you could make yourself feel the same.

You weren’t avoiding Simon on purpose—that’s what you told yourself, anyway. You just couldn’t come to terms with the fact that maybe he was being kind out of pity; that he saw how miserable and tired you were, and was simply relenting.

You didn’t want to get your hopes up, get riled up over the nothing that was sharing a bed with him.

Johnny’s offhand remark had, for some reason, made you feel odd. It was the way you’d reacted that made you feel bad, though, and Simon’s lack of reaction that made you feel worse.

His lack of an outward response made you upset. It dredged up the resentment you’d projected onto him. His clear obsession with appearing so stoic and uncaring in front of everybody made you feel unwanted; the fact that he could never, ever, seem to give you a reaction, no matter what you did, made you feel pitiful.

Meanwhile, your immediate panic at the thought of Soap knowing what was going on made you feel pathetic, and served to put into perspective just how deep your feelings actually ran.

The juxtaposition in reactions from yourself and him made you feel dirty.

You stared at the ceiling, trying to find solace in your bed after a day of forcing yourself to finish reports. You hadn’t been lying when you’d walked out of breakfast the other day—they had been piling up, and you had really needed to get them sorted.

You were tired. It wasn’t your best work, but at least they were finally done.

Someone knocked on your door.

“What?” You called out, prepared to hear Gaz on the other side.

“Open the door, sweetheart.”

Simon.

You opened your door a crack, just to peek at him, before finding the courage to open it completely.

“A'right?” He didn’t seem to notice your hesitation—that, or he was just ignoring it.

He was so good at ignoring things.

“Yes.” You lied, immediately turning bitter towards him.

“'Aven’t been comin' to see me.” He wasn’t asking, just stating the obvious, and it made you even more upset.

“Two nights,” you turned your back on him, walking further into your room. “Three tonight.”

You hadn’t really meant your movement as an invitation for him to come in, but Simon took it as one anyway. He followed you inside, shutting the door behind himself.

“D’you want to—”

“Do I want to sleep in your room?” Your words came out snippy as you cut him off, and indignation dripped from your voice.

He stayed quiet for a moment.

“Do you?”

“Did you tell Soap?” You began interrogating him.

“Mm?”

“Did you,” you took a step closer to him, “Tell Soap? About—about this? About…whatever this is. Me sleeping in your bed.”

“No,” Simon tilted his head to the side, “Did y’want me to?”

“Did I—what? What, so you can make a show of how you finally got me to behave for you?” You snapped, “Make sure everybody knows how easy it was to soften me up and get me where you want me?”

His eyes went wide for a moment before he collected himself with a huff.

“What?”

“I said what I said. Is this about you getting a little power trip?”

You felt lightheaded. You’d spent so long building walls around yourself to avoid your want for him, and he’d managed to tear them down in a matter of weeks. And he didn’t even care; he was seemingly ignorant to all of your emotional turmoil, to all the what ifs, and the sinking feeling you always carried of never being good enough for him.

“Making sure everybody knows that you’ve gotten another thing that you deserve?” You continued, irate.

He stared at you, resigned to your verbal onslaught.

“You don’t care what they think.” He spoke as if it was only just dawning on him.

“But I care what you think!” You broke, slumping over yourself slightly. You didn’t know if you wanted to laugh or cry, finding a happy medium in giggling so hysterically that your eyes began to water. “I care way too much about what you think, Simon! And I have no idea what you’re thinking, ever! You wanna know why I’ve been so fucking—I don’t know, upset? With you? For god knows how long? Why I'm so confused by this random fucking attentiveness?”

You stormed over to your desk, hastily grabbing the reports and walking back over to Simon to slam them against his chest.

“Be fucking certain they’re in order this time, sweetheart!” You mocked his accent, angry enough that you considered mimicry fair game.

He let the papers drop to the ground by his feet.

“You went from so easy to so, so difficult in the span of twenty-four hours, and I have never for the life of me been able to figure out what set you off!” You wondered if he even remembered the series of events you were talking about, if it stuck out to him the way it did to you. “You’re so complicated! You’re so fucking—and now you’re mad that I’m not running off to bed with you? So—so that you can keep me safe from myself and prove to me that you’re some fucking superhero? Wanna be my personal savior? Make me eat my words about your arrogance?” You scoffed, “Jesus fuck, Simon!”

You swallowed every emotion besides ire. Still, you felt a pang of remorse when you remembered what you’d said to him as he lay sleeping in the infirmary.

Sorry I yelled at you; it won’t happen again.

Now you were making a liar out of yourself, and it wasn’t even his fault—this was you still trying to push it all down, even after everything. The fear of rejection tried to overpower your desire for help from him; comfort from him.

The terseness of your words hung between the two of you, and you remained frozen in place, standing across from him, panting.

“Wasn’t mad.” You could hear the irritation in his voice, finally getting a reaction.

“What?” You huffed.

“I wasn’t mad. Never been mad at you.”

“Then what—”

“You needed a push.”

“And that’s how you thought to do it?”

“'Ow else would I have done it?” He sounded like he did on missions, blunt and loud, and the severity of his tone made you flinch.

“Any other way! You—you refuse to acknowledge the work I put into all of this! Then, now, you’ve always acted like I’m not good enough to be here!”

“I push you because I respect you,” he was practically yelling now as he matched your urgency, raising a hand to point at you for emphasis. “You respond better to assertiveness. You thrive on clarity, always 'ave. Thought I was fuckin' ‘elpin' you.” With narrowed eyes, he searched your face. "And maybe I was rough on you, but ‘ow the fuck was I s'posed to react—you think I knew what to do? When you were showing me such bloody—this gentle fuckin' devotion since day one?"

You thought you'd like getting him to snap, but you didn't. You could feel your cheeks heating up, sinuses stinging slightly as your body readied tears.

You felt stupid, the situation lamentable. It had always been a misunderstanding; a lapse in communication between two people who understood each other but refused to relate. Someone who wanted to adore, and someone who had no idea how to be adored.

He had always been attuned to your needs. He was just godawful at showing it.

You shrunk into yourself a bit, biting your lip to keep the tears at bay. You avoided his gaze as you chose your words.

“Are you proud of me?”

“What?” He looked down at you in disbelief.

You doubled down, trying to keep your voice even, “Are you proud of me, Simon?”

He took a long breath, debating his next move, before tugging his mask over his jaw.

In one swift motion, he pulled you into him, not bothering to weave his arms under your own and instead wrapping himself around you with your arms still slack at your sides.

“Fuck are you talking about?” He growled, one hand coming up to cup your face.

And then he was kissing you, passionately, but in an oddly chaste manner.

You gasped, shocked by how forward the action was and by how much you responded to it. You wiggled your arms out of his grasp, one hand finding purchase on his chest while the other flew to the nape of his neck.

He pulled away from you, and you found yourself chasing the slow movement of his lips against yours, already missing the vague taste of him you’d gotten from the gentle kiss.

“You’re fuckin' stubborn,” Simon spoke just above a whisper, deep voice ragged as he caught his breath, “You’re one of the most competent people I’ve ever worked with. You call me on shit people three ranks above you wouldn’t, and you’re right. You stepped on a landmine, and you lived.” His thumb brushed over your cheek as his hand kept up the responsibility of holding your face up, ensuring that your eyes met his. “Who cares ‘f I’m proud of you.”

It wasn’t a question, more of a statement, but you answered anyway.

“I do.” You breathed, and you finally felt as though the whole truth had been told.

“Well, I…” He swallowed, “I am.” There was a pause as he collected his thoughts, staring at you with a tender look of hesitation. “I am. And ’m sorry.”

“For what?” You wanted to hear it.

“Everything,” he seemed assured, “Not being—not being the right kind of support, not being clear about…”

When he trailed off, you wanted to push him forward into his feelings; make him say it, clarify how he hadn’t been clear about his true intentions or the nature of his emotions; make him put into perspective what Gaz had been trying to tell you in your room as you smoked through your skepticism.

But that would just make you feel cruel, and if he wasn’t ready to share that sort of vulnerability with you, then so be it.

Instead, you began a new line of questioning.

“Why’d you make that crack about us having grandkids?” You leaned against his palm where it rested on your face.

“Felt right. In th’moment,” he sighed, “Thought it was funny.”

“You were serious.”

“‘F you think I—”

“You were.” You delivered your claim with certainty.

He smiled, and you were thrilled to be able to see the rare presentation on his partially unmasked face.

“I was.”

“I’m not a problem.” You tried not to get distracted by how pretty his lips looked, curled so obviously at the edges.

“Not the way I see it.” He answered in a manner so typically Ghost, but it still served to prove your point.

“And you think I’m pretty.”

You watched his smile turn into something more akin to a smirk.

“'At's right. I do.”

“Gaz said…said you stayed with me. In the infirmary.”

“I did.”

“How come?” You wanted more extensive answers, unsatisfied by his brief responses.

“Why wouldn’t I?” Simon countered your question with another.

“You were pissed that I woke up when you weren’t there.” You continued to run through the series of events that had irritated you so greatly.

“Can y’blame me?”

“Yeah.”

He closed his eyes for a moment upon hearing your reply, perhaps recognizing his own shortcomings in how he was dealing with this conversation; or recognizing that he had, in fact, been in the wrong to get so aggressive while you were still healing up.

He didn’t say anything, so you took it upon yourself to continue, trying to prompt him.

“You were mad.”

“I was upset.” He clarified with a hiss, not out of spite but frustration at his inability to express himself.

“Why?” You urged him on.

“Because—” He heaved a sigh, “Wanted you to know I...cared. Wanted it t’be something 'at registered…”

He was clearly struggling to describe his thought process, and you couldn’t blame him—he was a complicated man in every sense of the word, and you could only imagine what it was like inside his head.

But he was trying.

“'En you woke up while I was gone, 'nd I felt stupid, so I just…took it out on you, and everybody else,” he breathed, “And I shouldn’t ‘ave. And I’m sorry.”

You wondered if you were the first person to ever hear the words I’m sorry come out of his mouth, and you tried not to relish in the notion.

You tugged subconsciously at his shirt collar, and realizing that you both still hand your hands wound around one another made you blush.

“Why did you listen to me?”

“When?” He furrowed his brow enough that you could see his eyes crease.

“You let me lead—you treated me when I asked you to.” You explained.

“Think I’d jus’ let you bleed out?” His lips curled into a subtle smile again.

“Answer the question.” You tugged a bit more harshly on his shirt.

“I respect you,” he muttered, “You’re a good soldier.”

“That doesn’t answer my—”

“It does.” He cut you off, eyes boring holes into your own as if in an effort to telepathically send you the meaning of his words.

And you understood.

“So why did you use your shirt?” You swallowed, smiling softly.

“Y'ask a lot of fuckin’ questions, know 'at?” He huffed playfully.

“Yeah,” you shot back, not bending to his teasing, “Why’d you use your shirt.”

“No bandages.”

“So your first instinct was to just—strip down, middle of a warzone, wrap me up?”

“I need you,” he paused then, perhaps intentionally, as he tightened his grip around your waist, hauling you even closer against him, “Safe.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and you parted your lips, but no words came out.

“I need you alive. And I’m glad I did it,” he was trying not to mumble, unsure of how his words would be received despite how you were clinging to him like some sort of life preserver. “I’m glad you’re alive.”

You swallowed the lump that had formed in your throat, touched by his sincerity and wanting to grip his face, pull him down into another kiss that you could deepen even further.

“Could’ve used a sock…” You opted instead to poke fun at him, hoping it might lighten the mood and ease the tension. You didn’t want to run the risk of kissing him with tears trailing down your face.

“Fuck off.” He chuckled, and you felt instantly soothed.

Simon tilted his face down ever so slightly, eyes leaving your face to take in the way his shirt framed your body.

“Looks good on you.” He seemed pleased.

“Cleaned the blood.”

“I noticed.” He nodded, eyes still scanning the fabric that adorned you. “Suits you.”

“You keep saying that, and I don’t know what you mean.” You tilted your head at him, your bodies close enough that you could hear his heartbeat syncing with yours.

You belonged here.

“'Ow much clearer could I be, sweetheart?” He scoffed in jest.

“Simon.”

“Mm?” He looked back at you.

“Shut up,” you shook your head, amused, “I’m giving you the go ahead.”

You pulled him down by the nape of his neck where your hand still sat, reconnecting your lips to his.

This time, it was different—his movements were hungry, and there was little time wasted as he worked to deepen the kiss. You parted your lips, beckoning him in and whimpering softly when he began to lick into you. The room was silent with the exception of the soft sound of his mouth exploring yours and the quiet hiss of breath.

He finally moved his arm, wrapping it properly around your waist, and you could feel his fingers pressing against your skin as if in an attempt to map you out, to bruise you with his fingerprints and mark you as identifiably his own. His other palm rested heavy on your cheek, sliding back to allow his fingers to brush through your hair leisurely.

Your own hands had also begun to wander, stroking up his chest and his back, grabbing at his shoulders and his arms in a desperate attempt to feel the warmth of him seep into your palm anywhere you could get it through his shirt. You felt delirious with want—every emotion besides lust fizzled out, and you were left with the knowledge that this was all you’d ever really wanted.

And now that you had it, you couldn’t get enough.

You tugged on his shirt. He took the hint, allowing you to walk with him in an awkward dance of intwined limbs until the back of your knees hit the bed.

You finally separated, though he kept his hands on your sides. You stared up at him as you caught your breath.

“Take it off.” Your words came out whined.

“Take what off?” He heaved a breath.

He knew what you were talking about, but he prompted you all the same in an effort to encourage you to take what you wanted.

You reached up hesitantly. With one one hand, you cupped his jaw, while your other hand gripped the fabric that he’d tugged over his mouth, peeling it off of him until his face was fully exposed.

It had only been a month or two since you’d seen his face unobstructed, but he was prettier than you remembered, if that was possible.

The scars that crisscrossed over his left cheek were a flushed pink, rosy against his pale skin; his eyes seemed sharper, keener as you analyzed his features.

His hair had grown longer on top, despite the fact that he had clearly maintained the close cropping on the sides.

Seeing him like this always made him seem human, and the circumstances in which you were seeing him now made it innately more intimate.

You kept your hand on his face, absentmindedly trailing your thumb down his cheek as you considered what you could say in this moment.

“Hair’s not regulation…” You mumbled, swallowing.

“Gonna tell on me?” When he spoke, the faint stubble that dotted his jawline scraped gently against your palm.

“No…” You couldn’t think of anything witty to say, “I like it like this.”

He didn’t respond, but his eyes grew softer as he stared down at you. His hands, still on your waist, dipped beneath your shirt and the feeling of his calloused palms running so gently up your bare skin made you suck in a breath.

“Simon…” You suddenly felt that you couldn’t make eye contact with him, lest you embarrass yourself by begging him to fuck you where you stood.

He looked at you expectantly for a moment before his gaze flicked down to where his hands stroked up your body.

“I want—” You tried to find the words that would make you sound the least pathetic, but realized that you didn’t really care as you settled on your phrasing. “Fuck me.”

“Yeah?” His voice gave away his eagerness.

“Please.” You added.

That was all it took to get him to grab you by the hips and tug you into him, turning the both of you around so that he could sit on the bed. You scrambled to straddle his lap.

He snaked his hands back under your shirt—his shirt—helping you out of it with one hand while the other traced patterns down your spine. When you tossed it to the side, you gazed at him expectantly, searching his face for a reaction.

“Fuckin’ hell,” you got one quickly. “Wanna…”

He never finished his sentence, and you didn’t have time to prompt him; his hands traveled up to your shoulder blades, face dipping down to bury himself in the cavern between your breasts and trail open mouthed kisses over your skin.

You couldn’t help the giggle that slipped from your lips, a response to the action itself and the way he felt against you; hot, wet tongue smoothing over the spots his stubble scratched at.

When he moved to take one of your nipples between his lips, you rolled your hips, arching your back. The action earned you a growl from him, and the small vibrations from his mouth made goosebumps erupt over your skin.

“Christ, don’t—” He grunted against the supple flesh of your breast, clearly struggling to hold back from reciprocating your movements as he bucked his hips gently up into you. “Fuck, c’mere.”

He grabbed your thighs before he stood, flipping you onto your back. Your legs dangled off the edge of the bed, and he knelt between your thighs.

“Should we take these off?” His fingers just barely dipped beneath the waistband of your sleep shorts, and you whined.

“Yes—yeah,” you raised your hips from the bed, “Go for it.”

Simon smirked, tugging your shorts down your legs and leaving you completely exposed to him. He trailed kisses up the inside of your leg, sucking hard on the skin of your thigh as he inched closer to your core.

“Knew you’d be a tease.” You huffed a laugh when he reached the top of your thigh only to move back and trail kisses up your other leg.

“Thought about it a lot?” He smiled against your skin, “Night’s young, sweetheart.”

You rolled your eyes, but gasped softly when he reached the top of your thigh again and slowly began to leave kisses over your pubic mound, taking his time, dipping lower until he reached your clit.

You let out a shaky breath. How long had it been since someone touched you like this; since you’d exposed yourself to a hand that wasn’t yours, a mouth that knew how to put in the effort?

How long had you been aching to feel Simon this way?

Your hand flew to his head, fully appreciating the way his hair had grown out to offer you the proper length to pull on.

Simon moaned softly, pressing chaste kisses to your clit, but when you tugged harder, desperate for more, he let out a quiet growl and stared up at you as he finally pressed his tongue to your folds.

You knew he had good aim—snipers tended to—but the way he so expertly circled his tongue over your entrance, pressing into you and lapping up your slick made your back arch. You raised your legs to rest them over his shoulders, aching for him.

You could feel his breath coming out in warm huffs against your slick. He ate you like a man starved, and you bucked your hips into his face when he licked a broad stripe over your slit that culminated in him teasing your clit with the tip of the muscle.

“Greedy thing,” he teased, nipping at your inner thigh, “Taste even better 'an I thought.”

“Thought—thought about it a lot?” You threw his words back at him with a shaky voice, nearing the edge, and he laughed.

“All the time,” he wrapped his arms around your legs, forcing you to still as he pressed another kiss to your dripping cunt. “Hand wrapped 'round my cock, thinking 'bout buryin' my face in you,” he teased your clit, licking another stripe over you before continuing his rambling. “How fuckin' pretty you’d look, starin’ down at me.”

His words made you feel feral, and the knowledge that he had touched himself to thoughts of you, just as you had to thoughts of him, forced a whimper from your throat. You looked down at him with parted lips and lust blown eyes.

“Yeah, ’at’s it,” he nodded, staring back at you from between your thighs, face coated in your slick, “Jus' like 'at, sweetheart. Watch me.”

He dropped his face again, hands moving up your legs to grip the flesh of your ass and pull you firm against him as he sucked on your clit mercilessly.

You found yourself writhing beneath his ministrations, pulling his hair harder as you reached the precipice. You didn’t know if you wanted him to stop, to go easier on you; or if you wanted him to stay there, lapping at your cunt and overwhelming your senses forever.

Your thighs squeezed around his head, trembling, as your muscles tensed. Your vision went blurry from the pleasure.

“Cum.” He said it like it was an order, licking into you before quickly returning his attention to your clit, sucking down hard around the bud.

What was likely meant to be a scream came out a choked cry as you came, gasping his name and trying to curl into yourself as the stimulation became all too much for you to handle.

With a final kiss to your cunt, Simon removed his mouth from you, stroking his thumb over your hip and watching you shake.

“Good?” He whispered into your thigh, planting soft kisses over your skin as you whimpered through the aftershocks of your orgasm.

“Yeah—fuck, Simon, yeah. Good,” you panted, “Better than good...Christ.”

He hummed, satisfied by your answer.

You stayed sprawled out with him between your legs for a while longer, appreciating the soft touches of the man who projected such a harsh persona; reminding yourself how to breathe properly.

"Come." You stretched your arms out, staring at him as you encouraged him to crawl into bed with you.

He obliged, standing, and you bit your tongue to keep from taunting him about how easy it was now to get him to follow orders. He pulled you into him, and you pressed your hands to his chest, nuzzling beneath his chin.

“You gonna keep all your clothes on?” You mumbled, teasing.

Simon sat up, supporting himself on his elbow. He tilted his head down as he brought a hand to your chin, forcing you to look up at him.

“Ask me again.”

“Simon—”

“Nah, c’mon,” he practically cooed, voice saccharine as he teased you. “Say it, sweetheart.”

“You want me to beg for you?” You matched his tone.

“Bet you’d be good at it.” He quirked a brow, smirking.

You sighed, fully willing to give him what he wanted even if it was in jest. Grabbing his collar and pulling him down so that your nose brushed his, you spoke in a whisper.

“Will you please fuck me, Simon?”

He smiled, but the glint in his eyes read almost predatory.

“Good girl.”

He sat up, pulling off his shirt and exposing his chest to you. It wasn’t anything new; you'd seen him in states of undress like this, but when his lips were still wet with your cum, it felt different in the most magnificent of ways.

You watched him stand, sitting up to get a better view; his stitches had already dissolved, but a scar still marred his left side, joining the dozens of other marks he'd collected during his time in combat.

With a smirk, he looked down at you and unzipped his fly, bending down to take his pants off, and you laughed at the showmanship he displayed.

Cocky motherfucker.

But you rubbed your thighs together when he took off his boxers, all the previous teasing production value gone as he straightened up and kicked them to the side with a huff.

You’d long wondered—rather immaturely—whether his size and stature translated to all of him. You felt your cheeks flush when you saw that you had been correct in suspecting that his cock lived up to the rest of him; thick and long, it tilted slightly to the right, and one solid vein trailed up the underside. His tip was pink and leaking, already smeared with precum, and when you realized that it was likely because he had found pleasure in going down on you, you swallowed a moan.

He rolled his shoulders back, and you thought you might be drooling.

He stood at the edge of the bed, looming over you as he always did, but now with a level of hesitation. He bent down to brush his lips against yours, and you eagerly accepted the kiss.

“Tell me what you want.” His breath was hot against your mouth.

“Told you…” You whispered, bringing a hand up to trace the tattoos on his arm.

He shook his head. “Tell me how you want it.”

You were thrown off guard by his prompting; you had been excited to let him do whatever it was he wanted.

And so that’s what you voiced.

“Any…however,” you swallowed, “Just want it to be you.”

His eyes softened for a moment, but you couldn’t admire him for long as he quickly embraced you in another kiss, pushing you onto your back again and moving clumsily to kneel on the bed beside you.

Simon’s hands ran down the length of your body, thumbs hooking between your thighs to admire the soaking mess at your core. He situated himself between your legs, encouraging you to hook your knees over his hips.

You couldn’t help but stare up at him in awe, the once callous Lieutenant who you swallowed your feelings for, now touching you with such care and admiration—and he looked good doing it.

He moved one hand from your hip to your face, cupping your cheek and staring down at you. The iciness in his eyes was back, but it was in a sense of concern rather than ire.

“You tell me if it 'urts.” He traced your cheekbone with his thumb.

“Knew you could be arrogant, but Jesus, Simon,” you barked a laugh, “That’s just—”

“Meant your ribs, love,” he smirked down at you, and you grinned back at him. “But I 'preciate the vote o'confidence.”

“Freudian slip…” You mumbled, not even embarrassed at your mistake, finding the humor in it and relishing that he, too, was comfortable enough to laugh about it with you.

“Right.” He nodded, smug. He maneuvered himself so that his cock could rest against your stomach.

You tilted your head, looking down to admire the image. He was justified in his pride, despite the way he came off so pompous; seeing his cock against you like this made your breath hitch, the comparison it drew to your size versus his was unavoidable and absolutely delicious.

“You gonna fuck me, or just show off?” You wiggled your hips.

“Nice to know you’re still mouthy even on your back.” Simon huffed, amused, as he pulled back to line himself up with you.

When he notched his tip to your entrance, you bucked your hips gently, unable to conceal your excitement. He pressed a hand to your stomach.

“Uh-uh, sweetheart,” he grunted, “Patient.”

You whined, frustrated and needy, but you didn’t have to put up too much of a fuss before he sunk into you. He watched intently as your cunt swallowed him inch by inch, lowering himself to hover over you on his forearms, pressing his hips to yours.

You squeaked a moan, filled to the brim, and grazed your nails down his back, feeling the occasional indentation of a scar beneath your fingers. Simon pressed his forehead to yours, eyes closed and breath coming out broken.

It was the most unshielded you had ever seen him, and you felt a sense of pride in the fact that it was you who had caused such a response.

“Fuckin’ tight,” he groaned, pulling his hips back an inch only to thrust shallowly back into you. You whimpered at the feeling, the way he had your walls stretched so taut around him. “Oh, fu—ckin’ hell…”

“Fuck me,” you whined, grabbing him by the shoulder blades. You pressed sloppy kisses to his mouth and chin, “Fuck me, fuck me—” It was a chant, a desperate repetition of your needs.

Maybe he captured you in another kiss to shut you up, but you didn’t mind. When his tongue parted your lips just as he began to rock forward, you nearly bit down on it, letting out a broken cry that he swallowed happily.

“Don’t want everybody 'earin’ you.” He shushed you, smirking into the kiss.

“Don’t—don’t care,” and you didn’t; if this was how everybody in the barracks discovered your situation with Ghost, you’d be proud. “Feels—you’re so deep.”

“I know,” he was typically smug, but you could tell he was enjoying himself just as much as you were. “Lift your hips, sweetheart.”  

You did as he said, lifting your hips enough so that he had room to reach beneath your body and grope your ass, tugging you into every stroke.

“Yeah, ‘at’s it—fuckin’ take it,” the pace of his thrusts increased. With his hands beneath your body, he straightened up, allowing himself to fuck into you deeper, rougher. “Fuckin’—fuck, take it, take it, sweetheart.” His head fell back as he moved, and you felt hypnotized by the way his chest heaved.

“Jesus fucking—Simon, please—” You bit your lip, really and truly attempting to keep the volume of your cries for him down, but he wasn’t making it easy. “So good—feel so good, please, just like that.”

His jaw was clenched but his lips were parted, and he looked over you with an intense focus, training himself to identify every little bodily response from you, and every little thing he could do to earn those reactions.

“Christ, look't you, love—” His lips curled into a fucked-out smirk, “Droolin’ jus' like your cunt.”

Dazed, you watched as he brought his hand down to your face, swiping the drool you hadn’t even realized you’d produced from the side of your mouth with his thumb. He pressed the digit against your lips, and you opened, eagerly sucking his thumb while he continued his bruising pace.

He watched on as you moaned around him, filling you at both ends.

His words spilled out of him, the vulgar vice grip your cunt had on his cock working him to peak vulnerability.

“You know ‘ow long I wanted this?” He bent down, slowing his pace to offer long, deep strokes that were just as overwhelming as the previous, faster pace. “‘Ow long I wanted t’see you droolin’ f'my cock? Would’a fucked you every night you slept with me—f’you said that’s what you wanted, would’a fucked you with ‘at bullet in my ribs.”

You could feel his cock punching against your cervix, the sharp, brief pain in your abdomen immediately fading to make room for the pleasure. And even so, with him encroaching on you like this, forcing you to take him as deep as you physically could, you still wanted more.

You moaned, irrepressibly needy as your hands wandered over his body above you.

Straightening up again, Simon pulled his thumb from your mouth. He took it between his own lips, tasting your spit and saturating the digit further before lowering it to your clit and rubbing circles over you.

“So fuckin’ stubborn—you’re a brat, ‘nd even when you make me pull my fuckin’ 'air out, I’d still let you do anythin' you want,” he couldn’t stop talking, and you were fine with it. His rambling on about his desire for you, paired with the motion of his hips, had you hurtling towards your second high. “Fuck, you feel good—fuck.”  

You thought maybe when he tilted his head down, eyes closing as he dropped his chin to his chest, that he was done talking. For a moment, it seemed that way, his attention refocusing completely on your body, as he collected himself and moved lower to hover over you again; nipping at the skin of your chest and licking stripes over your tits, moving his hand from your clit and kneading the pillowy flesh of your breasts.

But he moved to look down at you directly, nose brushing your own, and there was a flash of something in his eyes—soft and completely exposed.

“I love you.” He said it like a secret, the quietest cadence you’d ever heard him take on.

For a moment you thought maybe you were dreaming again—the nightmares morphing into something more akin to psychological warfare that you would wake up from and miss as if it were a nostalgic memory.

But then he said your name.

“I—fuck—I love you.” His breath hitched, and he was clearly attempting to distract himself from your silence by burying his cock into you deeper.

It made you moan wantonly—both his actions and his words hitting you somewhere deep, and you let out a gasp, reaching up to cup his cheek and letting your thumb trace one of the longer scars.

“I love you.” You echoed, meaning it more sincerely than anything you’d ever said to him, and though his brow furrowed slightly, he smiled.

“Again,” he panted above you, “Shit, say it again.”

“I love you,” you repeated, hand trailing behind his head and fingers combing through his hair, “I love you, Simon. I love you.” It was the second time in the span of a few hours that you’d found yourself chanting for him, and you were quite pleased.

“Fuckin’—” he sped up again, thrusting into you enough that the bedframe knocked against the wall. You almost felt sorry for whichever poor soul bunked next door. “’At’s it, sweetheart, let me ’ear you.”

He was delirious with lust, overwhelmed by his affection for you. And while it wasn’t something he was used to in any respect, he was certainly enjoying it.

“You fuckin’ tell me—you cum on my cock and you fuckin’ tell me ‘ow much you love it.”

He brought his hand back down to your clit, and your back arched off the mattress when he pressed down onto the bud, massaging over it in time with his thrusts.

“Let me see my pretty girl cum again.” He cooed over you.

His phrasing made you moan. His pretty girl; it rattled around in your brain and you let out a breathy sigh of approval.

“Your pretty girl…”

“’At’s what I said, sweetheart,” he nodded, and he would've been smiling if his focus wasn't entirely taken up on warding off his high. “One more, love. C’mon and gimme what I want.” He growled his words, briefly removing his fingers from your clit to pull your ankles over his shoulders so that he could wrap an arm around your thighs and hold you against him. “Fu—uck, tight little cunt…”

He kissed your ankle, replacing his fingers on your clit once more and watching your face contort in pleasure.

“Simon, fuck—don’t stop, don’t stop,” you stuttered through your whimpers, feeling the familiar heat build in your abdomen, “I’m gonna cum—please—like that, I’m gonna cum.”

He groaned, applying more pressure to your clit as he massaged it to the rhythm of his thrusts.

“Go on, sweetheart, gimme another one. Be a good girl, let me see your pretty face while you cum on my cock.”

You let yourself go completely.

“I—I love you,” you mustered the strength to follow his previous orders as the tug that built somewhere in your stomach finally culminated in a pleasant heat coating your skin. Your muscles tensed, your eyes rolling back enough that you could see colors distantly behind your eyelids.

“Yeah, yeah you fuckin’ do. You fuckin’ love it. You love me, sweetheart.” Simon groaned, “’Ere you go—squeeze me tight like ‘at,” his hips stuttered as he fucked you through your high. “Fuckin’ soak me. Good fuckin’ girl.”

His fingers dug into the skin of your thigh, trying to stave off his climax, if only for a moment longer, so that he could continue to enjoy the warm squeeze of your cunt.

When your moans became weaker, battling exhaustion to prolong the delicious overstimulation he offered you, Simon slid out of you with a grunt. He kept your legs up, keeping your thighs pressed together so that he could slip his cock between them and chase his own release.

“Fuck—” you yelped when the underside of his cock swiped over your clit, craning your neck to watch him fuck himself with your thighs.

You could see his abs tighten, desperate moans falling from his lips, and he looked so utterly beautiful as he struggled to control himself against the pleasure.

“Gonna fuckin’ stain you with my cum,” he heaved, rocking against you fervently, “Wanna smell it on you. Mark you up nice, let everybody know who you belong to—show ‘em 'ow good you are to your Lieutenant.”

“Please,” you mumbled your plea, pressing your palm to the back of his hand where it rested on your thigh, “Please…”

With his mouth agape, Simon’s brow furrowed, pushing his hips flush against the back of your thighs; he came with a low groan, bucking against you as he painted your stomach with his spend.

He panted, closing his mouth to swallow and staring down at you in a haze. He tilted his head back, heaving a satisfied sigh, before finding the motivation to move from the bed.

You felt a tug of melancholy, a sudden discomfort in being parted from him, but you watched on as he found what he was looking for and returned to your side.

He wiped you clean with the same goddamn shirt that, as far as you were concerned, started all this.

You fell into a fit of laughter, the adrenaline morphing from physical pleasure to pure amusement.

Simon stared at you like you had two heads.

“After everything that poor fucking shirt has been through, you’re gonna use it as a cum rag?” You tried to explain, and you watched his lips curl into a smile.

“Better a cum towel ‘an a tourniquet.” He quipped, quirking a brow at you.

“Just got the blood out…” You grumbled playfully, and he tossed the shirt off to the side somewhere.

“You’ll live.” He sighed, pressing his palm into your now clean, if not a bit sticky, stomach and appreciating your warmth.

After he had taken a moment to admire you where you lay on your back, he stood, walking around the bed to situate himself next to you. When he’d made himself comfortable, he wrapped an arm around your hips, pushing you onto your right side before tugging you into him.

“Never thought I’d be spooning with Simon Riley.” You sighed, placing your hand over his where it rested on your stomach.

“Consider y’self lucky.” He chuckled.

You fell into a peaceful lull, wrapped up in each other and silent.

“You love me.” You weren’t asking, more so reassuring yourself with a quick statement to ensure that what he’d said in the heat of the moment was true.

“I do,” he nosed your neck, kissing you softly. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” You whispered it, bringing his hand up from your stomach to kiss his knuckles.

He hummed quietly, and you continued to plant soft kisses over his hand until you were satisfied.

“You still mad at me?” He questioned, and you laughed.

“You really have to ask?”

“Good to be certain.” He sighed, and you shook your head, grinning.

“I don’t want to sleep in your room tonight.” You muttered.

“Don’t ‘ave to,” he responded in a similarly soft tone, “Won’t make you. Say the word, I’ll leave. You can get some sleep.”

“No,” you smiled at his lack of awareness, “Don’t want to sleep in your room—want you to sleep here.”

He was quiet for a moment. You looked over your shoulder, uncertain, and he was already looking back at you with a smug grin.

“’At’s what you want?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. S’what I want, too.”

You rolled your eyes, pressing your back to his chest.

“Gonna sleep without your mask on?” You teased, eyeing the balaclava where it lay on the floor amongst the rest of your discarded clothes.

“Might as well,” he huffed a laugh, “Cock’s out—nobody’ll notice my face if they come in.”

“I will.”

“I want you to.” He sighed, pressing himself against you so that your head rested beneath his chin.

“Good,” you yawned, “That’s what I want, too.”

Simon chuckled softly, leaning back to reach for the lamp on the nightstand and clicking it off. There was another stretch of comfortable silence, and you felt the soft edges of sleep begin to take hold.

“I’m glad you’re alive.” Simon whispered into the darkness of your room.

“I know,” you were just awake enough to respond, “I love you, too, Simon.”

You fell asleep with his arm draped over you, perched over your hips rather than your waist, his hand pressed lightly against your stomach. But this time, you were both under the covers.

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[yoitsjay]

hi hi! Ok ok hear me out… what if we and Jason went out clubbing together and we end up somehow forgetting we’re a lightweight and get drunk drunk. Im just craving some fluff of him taking care of usss. Ok anyways thank you so much!! Drink some water :)

-🦇

I love this! Thank you 😊

Take care of me

Summary: Your drunk, and he takes care of you. (Could probably make a short pt 2 blurb too)

Word count: 2721

A/n: i needed some fluff, thank you anon! Can be red as female or gn, I put both in the tags but there is a mention of tits so, mostly fem.

This was one of the rare times that Jason actually got to act like his age. He just turned 21 (not like he actually obeyed the drinking laws) but he had never been to a club before, and your birthday was right before his, so you both decided to go together, as 21 year olds, having fun.

And despite the amount of people flirting with him, he stuck by your side throughout the whole night, though not even halfway through, your draped across his arm, obviously *very* drunk.

Now he's helping you outside towards the Uber he just called to take both you and him home.

"Dude you're drunk, come on let's go home. I'll take care of you." He muttered softly, helping you into the car.

You let out a soft groan as he helped you into the Uber. You slumped into the back seat, holding your head in your hands as Jason climbed in beside you.

You opened your mouth to speak, only to pause when all you felt was vomit rising to your throat. At least you had enough decency to close your mouth and will it to go away. Instead, you rested your head on Jason's shoulder, groaning again.

He chuckled quietly at how out of it you were, patting you gently on the shoulder as the car began to move. He glanced down at you as you rested your head on his shoulder.

"You okay?" He murmured gently, though you shook your head. He snorted "You better not throw up in this car or I'll make *you* pay the guy." His tone was gently teasing as he poked you.

You let out another soft groan, turning your face and pressing it into Jason's arm, like you were trying to hide it.

"Shut up." You grumble quietly, feeling the Uber begin to drive through traffic to your apartment. Your arm immediately gripped around Jason's, as if grounding yourself so you didn't vomit. This was definitely going to be a long night, in his opinion.

Soon enough however, you arrived at your apartment building. With Jason's arm around your waist, you made your way up to the elevator, and to your floor of the building.

He chuckled silently under his breath at your drunk mumbling as he wrapped his arm around your waist, keeping you upright. He was silently glad you were holding onto his arm, if you leaned on him anymore he'd probably fall over too… though not really, he was like a brick wall.

"Come on, let's get you to your apartment before you pass out in the hall." He teased, helping you keep your balance as you walked down the hall. How he *didn't* feel drunk bewildered you, though you didn't say anything.

He leaned you against the wall as he fished your keys out of your pocket, unlocking the door and opening it for both of you. You didn't mind, in fact, your sober mind was probably grateful that he even knew what pocket your keys were in, so he didn't have to frisk you to find out.

That would be awkward.

Once the door was open, you tried to push yourself up, though you could feel your knees begin to buckle, and you quickly grasped on to your brick wall of a friend, groaning.

"I'm never drinking again." You murmured, letting him lead you inside, up the stairs of your loft to where your bed resided.

You laid down, hugging the pillows close, before tensing up. "Jason-" you choked out, looking at him as you sat up, clutching your stomach. "Trash can-”

Jason's eyes widened slightly and quickly scrambled, searching your apartment for a trash can, which he quickly found, and dashed back to your side. "Here." He said quickly, holding the trash can in front of you just as you started tossing up your birthday shots.

He cringed slightly, holding up your hair and rubbing your back as you hunched over. Why couldn't you have just drank water like he told you to?

though, those thoughts were not the ones running through your mind right now, rather:

Jason was a good friend. That was the only thing really running through your mind as he held your hair up with one hand, and rubbed your back with the other as you clutched the trash can and threw up all the alcohol, and what little food you did eat that night.

You knew he told you to drink water, but that was the night for you to act like a reckless 21 year old.

Boy did you fucking regret it.

Once you finished vomiting, you groaned, lifting your head up slowly as you grabbed some tissues from your bedside table, wiping your lips before tossing the tissue into the trash, slumping against your friend.

"M'sorry" you whimpered out, tears welling in your eyes. Ah, here come the drunk tears. "I'm a bad friend, s- shoulda listened to you." You sniffed, trying to blink away the tears.

Jason couldn't help but chuckle at your drunken tears though, he could already tell you were going to be hung over the living hell tomorrow. *he'd keep you company though.*

He rubbed your shoulders as you slumped against him, shaking his head gently.

"You're not a bad friend, just a bit drunk." He teased you. *And maybe a bit of an idiot for not listening to him.*

"Why don't you get some rest, yeah?" He mutters softly, you hummed in response, looking up at him with teary eyes before you blinked, and nodded.

"Okay." You muttered, nodding your head again. "Can you grab me... water... please?" You asked him, trying your best not to slur your words. "I'm gonna change." You grumbled to herself. *or at least try too*.

Jason nodded, slowly helping you sit up and then standing up on his own, walking down the stairs, looking around your kitchen before finding the water.

He filled a glass full and then grabbed a couple of painkillers for when you woke up, heading back up the stairs.

"I'm back, here's your water." He said gently, handing you the water and the painkillers.

When he had come back, you had managed to get the back of your dress unzipped, and down to your hips, but you were face planted on your bed, sobbing, because you couldn't get the zipper down the rest of the way to get it down your legs.

When you heard Jason come back, you turned your head and extended your arms to him and made grabby hands in his general direction, not really caring at the moment that he was seeing her in your bra, just grateful for the painkillers and water, which you took somewhat clumsily, still laying down, before setting them down on the nearby side table.

"Need your help." You pleaded, looking up at him with the classic puppy eyes, like your favorite emoji ‘🥹’. "Zippers stuck.” You whined out.

He couldn't help chuckling at the sight of you crying on the bed, face down on your mattress as you tried to unzip your dress. *Why did you pick today to be drunk?* he asked himself. Though, the answer was quick to follow. The big 2 1 birthday.

He sighed and walked over to you, holding back more of his laughing as he looked down at you, before nodding. "Yeah, alright, turn around." He said to you, his voice holding suppressed laughter.

"Don't laugh at me!" You cried out, grasping at his arms as he helped you up to your feet, before helping you turn around. You gently brushed your hair over one shoulder, showing off how the dress was bunched up around your hips, the zipper just needing to be tugged down a bit more so you could get the dress off.

"Your mean." You grumbled to yourself, though you didn't mean it, of course.

He just smiled and rolled his eyes as he got you up and turned around. You looked so pathetic, but he couldn't help finding you cute like this. But now was not really the time to be thinking dirtier thoughts. You were his best friend, and he needed to take care of you.

"Sure." He agreed sarcastically, looking at your back, admiring the smooth skin, the few healed scars that littered it, thinking to himself *damn.* only to mentally slap himself in the face.

He grabbed the zipper with one hand, and braced his other on your shoulder blades and carefully tugged it down lower, then stepped back to give you room to kick it off, glancing away as he did so.

You let out a little huff of relief, and you shoved down the dress, kicking it off your legs, along with your heels as you sat down on the bed, glancing up at Jason.

"Jayyyy." You whined out, nigh on pouting as you stared at him. "Can you grab my pajamas... they're in the top drawer with my panties." You snickered at the choice of words, falling back on the bed with a little smile, grabbing a pillow to hold onto as you waited.

"Yeah yeah." He sighed, walking over to your dresser and opening the top drawer.

He found the pajamas you asked for and a clean pair of your underwear, and after grabbing them he walked back to the bed. "Here." He muttered, dropping the pajamas on the bed beside you.

"Need anything else?" He asked you, leaning against the wall and looking down at the very drunk you. *He can't help but smirk.*

You sat up and you grabbed the clothes, smiling lightly to yourself before turning your gaze up to Jason again. "Don't think so." You replied, holding the clothes in your lap. "Can you turn around though?" You asked, your words still somewhat slurred. "Gotta take this bra off." You grumbled in addition.

Jason nodded and rolled his eyes, turning around and facing the other way to give you privacy like you had asked.

"You know I've seen ya in a bikini before right? So it's not like this is really a big deal." He pointed out, his hands resting on his hips as he waited for you to change.

"Yeah but I haven't flashed you my tits." You replied, and once he was turned around you reached back, fumbling with the bra clasp, letting out a few curses before the clasp snapped open, pinching your skin for a moment which made you curse again before you tossed off your bra, which flew over Jason's head and into the wall, bouncing off and landing in your laundry basket. What a throw.

You tugged off your old underwear, then changed into the fresh ones and the pajamas he grabbed for you. It took a minute to figure out which way to pull on the top, but once you figured it out, you grinned in victory, and took another sip of water. "We gud-" you called out to him.

Jason couldn't help but laugh when he heard your cursing and swearing, followed by the sound of your bra slapping against the wall and into the laundry basket, obviously it was a good throw, even when drunk your aim was impeccable

Once you said that he could turn around again he turned back around, facing you. He smirked and stepped towards you, poking your forehead gently. "You are so drunk.” He teased you.

You looked up at him, though when he poked your forehead, you immediately fell back into your bed, erupting into a fit of giggles, despite the now dried tears and puffy eyes that decorated your face.

"And you're not, so unfair." You whined out, shifting around your bed, pulling one of the sheets up your body, resting back against the pillows. "Will you stay?" You asked, tilting your head up at him. "I'm not gonna feel good tomorrow…” you trailed off with a slight pout.

"Yeah, I know, I'm taking care of your drunk ass now." He teased, ruffling your hair gently with a smile, he rolled his eyes jokingly at your comment, walking over to the other side of the bed and dropping onto it with a heavy sigh.

"Yeah yeah, I'll stay.”

you smiled happily at his words, glancing to the side for a moment as your eyebrows furrowed while you thought. "I think I have some of your spare clothes stashed away." You muttered, looking up at him. "If you wanna change too, you're still in your club outfit.. super hot by the way." You rambled on, grinning up at him as you poked his chest.

He chuckled softly, leaning back against the headboard of the bed as you rambled. It was funny to see you like this, just rambling and barely making any sense.

"Thank you, thank you." He teased as you complimented his outfit. "And you also looked very pretty in that new dress. Not that you didn't in the old ones too, you always look pretty." He trailed off, pursing his lips for a moment as he stared down at you.

He then nodded. "You can get me some of my spare clothes, if you remember where you put them.” He spoke up.

You hummed and smiled at his words, before letting out a slight groan. "Fineee." You dragged out your words, clamoring out of bed, having to hold your arms out to balance yourself so you didn't fall, before shuffling over to your wardrobe, thinking back to where you put them before crouching down and opening up a drawer, pulling out a shirt and clean boxers.

The shirt was ginormous on you, pretty much like a dress too, which you'd know. You wore his shirts before, you was a little thief when it came to his clothes.

You then tossed them at his face before climbing back into bed, burying your face into the pillows with a soft groan.

"I sleep now." You stated, your voice muffled thanks to the pillows. However before you drifted off, you looked up at him, reaching out to rest your hand on his thigh.

"Thank you for taking care of me Jason." You breathed out, smiling up at him. "You've always taken care of me... one day I'll take care of you too." You muttered, your words getting slower, and slower, and quieter, before your eyes fluttered closed and you started snoring, your hand still on his thigh, lips parted slightly as you slept.

Jason smiled down at you, watching and listening as you got quieter, sleepier, before passing out. He gently reached out a hand, brushing his fingers against your cheek before he tucked your hair behind your ear, lifting your head slightly as he brushed your hair behind you, making it more comfortable for you.

“You take care of me more than you think, gorgeous.” He muttered to himself, gently grasping your hand and lifting it off his thigh, moving it onto the pillow beside your head.

He grabbed the blankets, and he pulled them up and over your body, tucking you in with a light smile that he hadn't even realized was splayed across his lips.

He then got up, making his way into your bathroom as he changed. Though as he looked into the mirror, he caught himself smiling, and his cheeks flushed slightly as he looked down at his scarred knuckles, which gripped the sink.

“The things you do to me…” He trailed off, shaking his head before he quickly splashed his face with water and dried it off, making his way back out to the bedroom, glancing over at you once more before snatching an extra blanket from your closet, making his way downstairs to sleep on the couch for the night.

He was in for a busy morning tomorrow, that was for sure… but he set his alarm early enough so he could get up and make you breakfast before you woke up, so you could just stay in bed and relax while you nursed a hangover.

He had a special egg cocktail for that.

For now, he got comfortable on the couch, staring up at your tall ceiling, the way fairy lights were strung up, making your place look so mystical. So- homey.

He fell asleep like that, thinking of you.

When was he not thinking of you.

Tag list:

All: @francesfarhadi @only-my-unexistent-fiances

Batfam:

JT: @ilaiise

[sinner-as-saint]

stealing hearts

Mob!Bucky x Thief!Reader 

Run-through: His mansion was highly secured, and yet, breaking in and trying to steal from him was rather easy for a skilled thief like yourself. Key word: trying. Of course you got caught by his men. And the mob boss was known to be ruthless, cold, merciless – the list of his villainy was endless – so you thought he’d end you the moment he laid eyes on a thief like you. However, he didn’t. Instead, he made you an unusual offer. One you couldn’t resist. 

Themes: thief!reader, mentions of homelessness and parental death, slight angst, mob!bucky, dom!bucky, slight daddy kink, sex toys, age gap (reader is in her early twenties), smut, fluff, cocky!reader

a/n: more mob!bucky bc i need to write him for my mental health

“Where is he?” 

You heard a deep, surprisingly calm male voice ask, followed by multiple footsteps that echoed outside this dark room which resembled a dungeon, or rather a large storage room filled with boxes. 

You heard someone correct the man. “Uh, it’s a woman, sir.” 

The footsteps stopped for a brief moment, then resumed. The first authoritative voice spoke up again. “She was alone?” 

“Yes.” 

Silence. More echoing footsteps. “I’ll handle this. Wait here.” Immediately all the other footsteps stopped and only one continued approaching. 

A few seconds later, the door opened and a tall man walked in. You knew who he was, you’d broken into his home after all. Bucky Barnes. You had seen his face on the news multiple times. He was also easily recognisable because of his metal arm. He was the one most people feared around here. He was the infamous mob boss. Filthy rich, arrogant, merciless. But powerful more than anything. 

He took one look at you, tied to a chair in the middle of the dimly lit room, and scoffed. The asshole scoffed. 

You glared at him. “Spare me whatever dark villainous speech you have planned and just shoot me already.” You hissed, looking away from him. 

He was quiet for a second. Then said, “What makes you think I have some dark villainous speech prepared?” His voice was surprisingly softer than how he sounded outside. Smooth, rich voice. The kind that felt like a caress. 

You turned to look at him again, still glaring, “All you old, rich bastards are the same. You love to hear yourselves talk.” 

He chuckled this time, shoving his hands in his pockets as he walked in a slow circle around the chair you were currently tied to. “I’m not that old. Besides, wealthy is the right word here.” He ignored the way you scoffed at his words, and continued, “Also, a thief who hates wealthy people? Very original.” 

You sarcastically chuckled this time. “See what I mean? You love to hear yourself talk.” 

He stopped right behind you, where you couldn’t see him. You would be lying if you said your heart didn’t start racing immediately. Out of your sight, he could have a gun pointed at your head right now and you wouldn’t even know. 

He didn’t say a word. He just stood there. Letting the anticipation build. Until you couldn’t take it anymore. Yanking on the ropes didn’t work, you tried that earlier. So you said, “At least have the decency to look me in the eyes while you kill me.” 

He was quiet for a moment. 

“What’s your name?” He asked. 

When you gave him your name, he sighed and said, “Who said I’m gonna kill you?” 

Oh? 

“Well I can’t imagine you’re gonna let me walk away just like that either.” You’d been observing rich people all your life, you knew how they operated. You knew he would ask for something in return. 

“No,” He said, remaining out of your sight. “No, I won’t let you walk away just like that.” He confirmed. 

You laughed humorlessly. “Just so you know, I don’t have any money.” 

He ignored you. “Who sent you?” He asked. 

Ah, the interrogation. Again. “Your loyal guard dogs already asked me that while they were tying me down. And they used some very colourful language too,” You scoffed. “And I’ll repeat what I said to them. No one sent me. I don’t work for anyone.” 

He began walking around you again, coming to a stop right in front of you this time. You looked up at him. Damn he was… kind of handsome. You couldn’t help but smirk, then failed at hiding it. 

“What’s with the smirk?” He asked. You were surprised with how calm he was with this whole thing. It was unnatural. 

You held his stare as you spoke, “Nothing I was just thinking about how I used to watch the news growing up and they always mentioned how much of a big bad monster you are. But there’s not even a single battle scar on your pretty face.” 

He chuckled this time, shaking his head as he looked away from you for a brief moment. “Stop making me sound old. Also, the scars are everywhere but on my face.” He said, stepping closer, bending down a little so he could whisper, “And did you just call me pretty?” 

Your smirk faded. Your murderous glare returned. “Fuck you.” You said quietly. 

He stepped back with a proud smirk on his face. “How did you get in here? With no help? I’m finding that hard to believe.” 

The smirk came back. “You’re doubting my amazing thieving skills? I spent years perfecting them mind you.” 

He sighed. “Years? You look twenty-five at most, have you been stealing shit since you were a kid?” 

You shrugged, or tried to, “Gotta do what you gotta do to survive. Dead parents, grew up with shitty relatives, ran away from there, been a thief ever since.” You summarised your life in that self-deprecating way you always did. 

He didn’t laugh, or chuckle. He just stared at you with an expression you couldn’t read. “Where do you even live?” 

You gave him a sassy smile, “I’m a thief, I break into somewhere new each night. You’d be surprised at how many vacant apartments with comfy beds there are in this area.” 

Again, he gave you that same poker face. Handsome poker face. “And you broke into my house tonight for what? To sleep?” 

“House?” You gasped dramatically. “This is a damn castle. Though the décor is a little too dark, then again it suits you, you know? Nice gardens, by the way.” 

He sighed again, like he was dealing with a difficult child. “Why did you come here? And how? How did you get past my guys?” 

You took a deep breath and began explaining, “Number one, I came here to steal whatever expensive things I could find. Though you do have very nice comfy beds but I never,” You put more emphasis, “ever, sleep in a house when the owner is home.” 

“Charming.” He commented. 

You continued explaining. 

“And as for how, well I spent the last few days hiding and watching. You have thick bushes out near the entrance of your castle. I stayed there, observed and learnt your security guards’ schedule, and found out that the multiple cameras around your property also rotate. I figured out that I had exactly a fourteen-second window to get past the gates. I found a chance and took it. Picking the locks was easy. But then your people just had to catch me while I was halfway through stealing that lovely painting from your lovely library.” You finished with a smile so sweet it had him sighing again. “And now here we are.” 

He mumbled something under his breath about god saving him, then he walked to the door and opened it. He called out a name and someone came running. A young man with a sweet face, looking younger than you even, walked into the room. 

“Peter, I need you to make all necessary arrangements.” Bucky pointed in your direction and said, “She’ll be staying with us. Looks like we have a new member.” 

You ignored Peter’s very confused look, and hissed at Bucky. “What? I didn’t agree to this!” 

Bucky turned to face you with a serious look on his face. “You have no job, no income, and no place to live. I’m offering you all three and you are not in a position to refuse me.” He continued over your attempt at cutting him off. “You have skills I could use. From now on, you work for me.” He paused. “Agreed, little thief?” 

You glared at him. Damn. A job, a salary, and a roof over your head? The bastard knew you couldn’t refuse. You had to be smart here. He could’ve killed you, but he didn’t. Instead he made you this almost irresistible offer. This could only mean that… 

“You really need me for something, don’t you?” You asked, suddenly sounding cocky. 

He clenched his jaw. And that was confirmation enough. “We’ll talk business later.” 

You laughed in his face. “Alright, alright, don’t get too excited. But if I’m working for you, I have some conditions and requests.” 

He blinked. The Peter guy was so quiet and still you almost forgot he was in the room. “What makes you think you’re in a position to have conditions, or make requests? I could’ve killed you the moment I saw you, you know that?” That cold voice of his would’ve sent shivers down anyone else’s back. 

“But you didn’t because you need me.” You argued with a sly smirk. “Now, here’s everything I need,” You turned to Peter and began listing, “A nice room, preferably the guest bedroom at the end of the right wing.” You winked at Bucky and said, “I checked it out earlier and it has the best view.” You turned to Peter and continued, “I also want a whole new, complete wardrobe, with bags and shoes and everything.” You looked at Bucky and said, “Can I also have a car and a chauffeur?” 

He frowned. “No.” 

“What if I need to move around? Run errands, go get my nails done and all?” You fake pouted. 

“I said no.” 

You rolled your eyes, “Fine, can I have a pet horse?” 

Bucky sighed, “No.” 

“A puppy then?” 

“What are you, a child?” He questioned. 

You smirked, “I mean you’re probably old enough to be my father.” You teased him and tried again, “Can I please have a puppy, daddy?” You knew the way you said it sounded far away from innocent. 

Bucky walked over to you so fast your brain barely registered it. He grabbed you by the back of your neck and stared deep into your eyes. “If that’s the case then daddy can also put you over his lap if you keep being a brat, and spank your little butt raw until you either cry or come, or both. Is that what you want, little thief?” 

You were breathless as you whispered, “No.” That wasn’t entirely true, and damn it, you both knew it in that moment. 

Bucky smirked. “Good girl.” He whispered. Then stepped away and turned to Peter and said, “Untie her and get her whatever she wants.” He looked at you as he said, “No cars, horses, or dogs.” 

Then he left the room. Leaving you speechless, and very much wet. 

— 

Peter, you learnt, was one of Bucky’s assistants. Whatever Bucky asked him to do, he did. That included sending a group of mean looking men out to shop for all that you had written down on your ‘Requirements’ list. 

He showed you to your requested room and promised your stuff will be here before the end of the day. And sure enough, by the time the sunset everything you had asked for was brought to you. 

You squealed when you entered the closet, excited to put away all your new things. Clothes, accessories, bags, shoes, toiletries, makeup, skin care products, and more. 

Peter came by again in the evening, bringing you dinner and said, “Boss said he’d see you in his office tomorrow morning at eight. Don’t be late, please. He hates it when people aren’t punctual.” 

You’d be lying if you said the mention of Bucky didn’t immediately remind you of what he said earlier about you being on his lap and… ugh. Damn him. 

For the first time in a long time, you went to bed with a full belly that night. And you squealed again when you got in the comfy bed, freshly showered and moisturised. As you drifted off to sleep, feeling weirdly warm and safe, you forgot all about your meeting with Bucky the next morning, and how you needed to be up early for it. 

— 

Bucky couldn’t sleep that night. So much had happened in such a short time. One moment he was having a quiet, calm day of golfing with Sam, and the next he got a phone call from his security guys that his mansion had been broken into. 

He went from spending a rare day off with his best friend, to having a sassy, drop dead gorgeous thief in his guest room. He sighed, sipping on his whiskey, holding the phone to his ear as he looked out of his bedroom window. 

“Oh, I know that sigh of defeat.” Sam laughed through the phone. “Is she really that pretty that you couldn’t even use your brain?” 

Bucky rolled his eyes. And here he thought calling Sam to complain about everything was a good idea. Of course the latter would only make fun of him. In fact, he thought, maybe Sam would team up with you and you two would make fun of him together. 

“Shut up, Sam. I’m serious.” Bucky sighed again, “She pisses me off but at the same time… I don’t know. This girl has been living like a fugitive since she was a kid. I looked up the relatives she ran from, her uncle and aunt, and honestly, anyone would run from them. God knows what kind of messed up shit she’s witnessed and been through her whole life.” 

Sam was quiet, listening. 

Bucky continued. “You know the bushes near the entrance? She hid there for days. Days, Sam! Through the rain, and cold nights all just so she could study the guards’ movements. She probably didn’t eat that whole time. Who knows when’s the last time she had a warm meal? She’s so resilient. And strong. But so sassy, and the way she runs that mouth it makes you want to-,” 

Bucky exhaled, exasperated. And continued. 

“She has that look in her eyes, you know?” Bucky thought back to earlier when he first saw you. “Life hasn’t been kind to her. She has really sad eyes. Like she was forced to grow up and take care of herself. I couldn’t…” Bucky trailed off, “I couldn’t just let her go back to living like that. Go ahead, make fun of me for it.” He sighed. “She’s gonna be really useful to me.” He stated. “You remember last year? When I was ambushed by Roger’s men? Something of mine was stolen then, and I’m gonna get it back using her.” Bucky already had a plan made. “I needed a skilled thief anyway. I mean she managed to break into my house, that means she actually is really good. She could even lead some of my guys when they go-” Bucky stopped talking and asked, “Are you even listening?” 

Sam chuckled, “I am, I am. It’s just rare to see you admire someone like this. Who knew big bad Bucky could be so soft? You better let me win next time we’re golfing, otherwise I’m telling everyone that you have a crush on the thief.” 

Bucky groaned, “What is this? What are we, children? I do not like her like that, alright? I’m about a decade and a half older than her. And she won’t stop reminding me of it.” 

Sam laughed again. “Oh I like her already. Anyway, have fun with your crush and tell me how it goes.” 

“Goodbye, you asshole.” Bucky ended the call and shook his head at the thought of what Sam said. A crush? On a thief? No way. 

As he made his way to his study room, Bucky couldn’t help but pause outside the guest room in which you slept. He could hear soft snores coming from within. Something in him felt satisfied that you were able to sleep soundly here, not having to find vacant places to break into. He wanted to keep it that way. 

Why? He didn’t know. Whatever it was, Sam was wrong. 

As he sat at his desk in his study room, Bucky tried to get work done but he couldn’t stop thinking about you. Something about you was different. Bucky never trusted people this easily, let alone allow them into his home. 

That reminded him of something… Bucky found the list that Peter had left on his desk. The list of Requirements, as you called it. And as he read all the things his men had to go out and buy earlier, Bucky couldn’t help but laugh. He hadn’t laughed like this in a long time. 

Oh this could be fun. Bucky couldn’t wait for your meeting the next morning. At eight sharp. 

— 

When you woke up, the sun was in your face. But you hadn’t felt so warm and comfy in a long, long time so you relished the feeling. You let out a yawn, opening your eyes slowly. And you found yourself looking right at a rather pissed off Bucky standing at the end of the four-poster bed, with his hands in his pockets. 

All black suit, perfect hair, and those blue eyes… 

“Oh hi,” You said, taking your sweet time as you sat up in bed. “Good morning.” 

“It’s two in the afternoon.” Bucky hissed. “Who sleeps in for that long? You and I had a meeting at eight this morning. I was waiting.” 

You yawned again. “I’m sorry, this bed is really, really comfy.” You said, as if that was a decent excuse. “Maybe you shouldn’t have put such nice beds in your guest rooms if you didn’t want your guests to sleep in.” 

Bucky closed his eyes for a moment, looking like he was trying very hard to contain his annoyance. “You are not a guest. You work for me. So when I tell you to meet me in my office at eight, I want you there.” 

You smirked, peeling off the covers and slowly crawling over to the end of the bed where he stood. You knelt on the bed right in front of him, “Oh? You want me?” You teased, knowing he would snap at any moment now. 

You remained kneeling on the bed as his metal hand reached out and wrapped around your throat, squeezing just a little. The smirk on your face stayed in place this time, only pissing him off even more. “Watch your mouth, little thief.” He said. 

“Or what? You’ll spank me till I… what was it you said?” You repeated his words from the day before, “Till I cry, or come. Or both?” He remained quiet. His hand tightened around your throat, choking you a little bit more. You couldn’t help but whisper, “Jokes on you, I’m into this shit.” 

Bucky let go of you immediately. You laughed in his face as he shook his head and shoved his hand in his pocket again. 

“Get out of bed and get ready. Meet me in my office in half an hour.” He ordered and turned to leave. 

“But I’m hungry,” You said right before he could walk out of the door. “You can’t treat your guests like this, you have to feed me.” 

Bucky refrained from groaning. “Fine,” He said, turning to look at you over his shoulder. His broad shoulder. “I’ll have someone bring up some food for you. Now hurry up, don’t be fucking late again.” He barked. 

—

Bucky was embarrassed to admit to himself that his hands were shaking as he left your bedroom and walked to his study room. Fuck, less than twenty-four hours and you already had such a bizarre effect on him. 

Bucky shut the door behind him, and closed his eyes to find some kind of composure. Fuck, fuck, fuck. The sight of you in those black satin shorts and that tight, excuse of a top… fuck. The sight of you so comfortable in bed had messed him up so much he’d gripped you by the throat like an animal. 

He was grateful you didn’t seem to notice the hardness in his pants. He needed to get a grip. How the hell was he supposed to boss you around if this is what a brief interaction was doing to him. 

He sat at his desk and waited. And about twenty minutes later, there was a knock at the door. It was one of the housekeepers with a tray of breakfast food. Bucky waited some more and after a short while, there was another knock at his door. Before he could even open his mouth to say something, you walked in. 

Bucky’s heart skipped a beat. Just who allowed you to look this good? You were glowing after a good night of sleep. You looked incredible in your little sundress. Bucky watched as you took a seat on the other side of his desk before he even asked you to. The smell of your body wash and perfume drifted over to him, and he was almost salivating. 

He kept watching as you moaned in delight when you took your first sip of coffee, then your first bite of warm croissant. 

“Glad to see you’re enjoying your breakfast at,” He checked his watch, “almost three in the afternoon,” He spoke, finally. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to discuss your position here in my house and as my employee.” 

You scoffed through a mouthful of some kind of pastry. You swallowed it with a sip of coffee and said, “So formal, my god. Just tell me where to go, what to steal and I’ll do it, no need to be so poetic about it.” 

Bucky sighed. “I don’t need you to steal anything at the moment. There is something, but the time isn’t right. I will let you know when it is. But as of now, I have other plans for you.” 

You frowned at him as you finished your breakfast. “Okay… I’ll do them under one condition.” 

“Enough with your conditions.” Bucky hissed. 

Despite his warning, you continued, “There’s this old, abandoned apartment complex,” You said, grabbing a pen and a sheet of paper from his desk like it was your own, scribbling something down, “I have some stuff hidden in there that I need. Not much, just two boxes. I know you won’t let me go but could you have someone go get it for me, please?” 

Bucky looked down at the address and apartment number written on the paper. “What stuff?” He asked. 

“Just stuff I’ve stolen over the years.” 

He scoffed, “But you have everything you need here.” 

You nodded, “Some of the things are… priceless.” 

Bucky nodded. “Fine. I’ll have someone go get it. Now, about your role here. You’re gonna start training with the guys tomorrow.” 

You frowned, “I’m a thief, I don’t need exercise.” You argued. 

“No,” He said, calmly as he leaned back into his chair. “But you need to learn how to fight, how to use a gun, a knife, self defence, how to be part of a team and all that.” 

Okay. Things got very real. You stayed quiet and nodded. 

“Can you drive?” 

You shook your head. 

“I’ll have someone teach you.” 

You shrugged. “So, no stealing for now. Only training like I’m going to battle. Anything else?” You asked. 

“Yes, actually.” 

–

About an hour later, you stood in the middle of what Bucky called your new workstation. You looked around the spacious room, impressed. It looked a lot like a lab, with every equipment a thief could ever need, even some new tech that you yourself weren’t familiar with. Weapons, trinkets, everything. 

“So you want me to teach your guys how to steal using this stuff.” 

“I want you to teach them necessary skills.” Bucky corrected. “Strategies. How to be observant. How to pick locks, how to be discreet, how to be invisible and hide for days, how to use a narrow, fourteen-second window to infiltrate a secure place. Whatever else you can teach. Minus the stealing.” 

You smirked, leaning against your new desk. “So you like what I do, huh?” 

Bucky ignored that. “Don’t cause any trouble.” He said. “I’m paying you to do a good job here.” 

You looked around again, not able to fight the genuine smile that formed on your face. “It’s like paying a kid to be at the playground.” You smirked, looking at him with determination in your eyes, and some mischief. “I’m gonna have so much fun here with my new friends.” 

“Do not hurt my guys, I need them.” 

— 

The next couple of weeks went by rather quickly. You woke up each day, excited for a change. No more having to be constantly on the run, no more having to steal for food, clothes, or find shelter. You had more time to live now, not just survive. 

Plus you had the lab. It was your favourite place ever. Surrounded by gadgets and tech you didn’t know could exist, weapons that you were starting to get the hang of, and Bucky’s guys that you used as if they were your test subjects – you actually had fun each day. 

The dynamic between you and Bucky changed too. And it all started the day after he first showed you your new lab… 

“My guys have your stuff from the old apartment. It’s in my office, come get it.” He spoke through the phone – your new phone – ordering you to come collect your stuff. 

You almost ran out of your room and to his office. When you got there, the two boxes were placed nicely on one side of his desk. A cardboard one, and the other one was a medium sized metal code-lock box. He stood behind the desk, watching you. 

“As requested,” He pointed at the two boxes, “Your stuff.” He paused, then said, “Open them.” 

You froze. “Uh, what?” 

Bucky shoved his hands in his pockets. “If I’m gonna allow you to keep your stolen goods in my house, I should know what they are. Now come on, open the boxes. I need to check them.” 

You walked into the room, shutting the door behind you. As you approached the desk, you tried to find a way out of this. “You don’t need to. They’re nothing. Just things I’ve collected over the years.” 

Bucky gave you the usual, handsome poker face. “Would you like me to open them?” 

“No,” You said quickly. You rushed to the cardboard box, opening it to let him see the contents. “See? Just books I’ve stolen from everywhere.” You explained as he looked inside the large box filled with old and new books. 

“Now the other one.” He said, eyeing the metal box. 

“That one has… um, personal things.” You said. “You don’t need to see all that.” 

Bucky walked around the desk, stopping only when he was inches away from you. He leaned a little close to your ear and whispered, “I have received bills of all the things you made my guys buy recently. Some of the bills explicitly listed each and every piece of lingerie and underwear you ordered, including a certain little red thong you’re possibly wearing right now.” He said, making you shiver. “And now you wanna talk about boundaries?” 

You pulled away to look at him, seeing the proud triumph in his eyes. “Fine.” You refused to let him win this one. You reached for the box, unlocked it, opened the lid and waited. Bucky was quiet. Too quiet. “Say something.” You whispered, “This is very awkward.” 

Finally he did. 

“Get on the desk.” He said. You froze again and seeing that you weren’t moving he leaned in to whisper into your ear, “I said, get on the desk. If I’m gonna allow you to keep all of these toys, then I better test their… effectiveness as well.” 

You avoided his eyes, focusing on the top buttons of his shirt as you asked, “What kind of rule is that?” 

“My kind.” He replied. “Now get on the desk. Legs up and spread them so I can see exactly what I have to deal with.” 

Fuck. 

You sat up on the desk, feeling just a little coy as you lifted your legs up and placed them on the edge of the desk, spreading your knees as far as they would go so he could look at you down there. 

Bucky scoffed. “See? There’s that red thong.” He pulled his metal hand out of his pocket, placing it on your inner thigh, slowly inching upwards. His cold fingers lazily teased your clit, then slid down to inspect your wet folds. He pulled the thong to the side and mindlessly dragged a metal finger up and down your slit, making you shiver and moan as he touched you. 

You let out a quiet whimper which made him groan. 

You looked down in between your thighs, his hand teasing you like it was the most casual thing. You sheepishly looked up and into his piercing, icy blue eyes that were already staring at you. You couldn’t look away. 

“Which one’s your favourite?” He asked. And it took you a little while to realise that he was referring to the pile of sex toys in the metal box. 

“The, uh… the vibrator.” You answered. Your face got all hot but you refused to seem embarrassed. 

Bucky smirked, pulling his hand away to reach for the vibrator. Light pink wand with a bulbous head. Bucky looked at it, then at you. He looked down at your wet folds and spat before turning the wand on and pressing it right on your clit. His spit helped the toy to move around better as he circled your clit with it, before moving it up and down your slit. 

You couldn’t help but moan and gasp as you felt the familiar pressure forming in between your legs, and you involuntarily bucked your hips against the vibrator, trying desperately to chase your orgasm. Of course Bucky noticed, and he scoffed as he lifted the vibrator off you, denying you your release.

“No,” You whined, closing your eyes and tilting your head back, “Please…” You begged. 

“Look at me,” he said, softly. You looked back at him as his other hand wrapped around your throat. Bucky leaned in enough so that his lips brushed against yours when he spoke. “You will come when I allow it, you hear me? 

You nodded immediately. 

“Good girl.” He said as he placed the vibrator back against your core. You felt the vibrations all over your body, as you stared into his icy blue eyes. He moved the toy around a little more before lifting it off you again, turning it off this time. “You can take your books and go now, this box stays with me.” 

He put the vibrator back safely, shutting the box. 

You closed your legs, hopping off of his desk. “What do you mean it stays with you? You can’t just… just steal my toys!” You frowned at him, pissed. 

Bucky gave you an annoying smirk. “Yes I can. Now whenever you need a toy, you can come ask for it. If I feel like it, I’ll let you have it.” 

Bastard. 

You left his office angrily that afternoon. And vowed never to beg for any of the toys in that box. Let him have it. Screw him, right? 

Wrong. 

You couldn’t sleep that night. Your fingers didn’t relieve you as much as the vibrator would have. And that’s how you found yourself swallowing your pride and knocking on his office door. The lights were on so you figured he’d still be in there. 

“Come in.” He said and you could already hear the smirk in his voice. 

You opened the door, walked in and shut it behind you. “I need it.” You said, looking at him as he lounged on the couch near his desk. 

“Need what?” He asked, acting oblivious as he placed his drink down and pretended to be confused. 

You rolled your eyes at him. “The vibrator. Please.” 

He leaned back on the couch, with a playful smirk on his face. “Oh I put it in the trash. I put all of them in the trash.” 

You blinked. It took a moment for the anger to surface. You took a step towards the couch. “Do you know what I had to do in order to rob that sex store? I had to fight the guy who was closing up for the day. With a baseball bat! And you know the worst part? He was one of my ex flings!” 

Bucky let out a chuckle. 

“Don’t just sit there and laugh! What am I supposed to do now?” 

He gave you a mischievous look and said, “Come here.” 

You crossed your arms over your chest and stood there in the middle of his office. “No.” 

“Keep being a brat and I will drag you here by your hair if I have to.” He raised an eyebrow at you. “Try me.” And those words had you moving towards him at once. 

You reached the couch where he was sitting and stood in front of him. “Now what?” 

“Get on my lap.” 

You rolled your eyes, refusing to show how his words and tone made you want to drop to your knees and take him in your mouth instead. “You’re such a disgusting, old, pervert who just wants to-,” 

He cut you off by pulling you into his lap and grabbing you by the throat. His metal hand squeezed your throat just enough to make you whimper. “What did I say about you and your smart mouth? Hmm?” Then he scoffed and said, “Right, I forgot you’re into this shit.” He squeezed your throat a little more. “If I reached down there, would I find that you’re completely wet and ready for me?” 

You whimpered again, instinctively grinding on his lap. He chuckled, shaking his head. 

“Look at you,” He murmured. “You won’t need your toys now,” He said, “If you need to come, you ask for my cock. Understood?” 

You nodded immediately. 

He smirked. “Now, will you be a good girl and fuck yourself on daddy’s cock or what?” 

You whined, nodding, “Please…” 

Bucky couldn’t help but lean in for a kiss then. All your whimpering was too much for him to handle and he couldn’t take it anymore. 

You kissed him back, allowing him to almost tear your PJs off of your body. You only pulled away from the kiss to say, “We need a condom. I’m not on birth control.” 

Bucky nodded, reaching to pull a condom out of his pocket. “Remind me about the birth control thing tomorrow.” 

You watched as he undid his trousers and put the condom on. The moment it was on, Bucky pulled you in for a kiss again. He helped you as you lifted up and then slowly lowered yourself down on his hard cock. 

You couldn’t look away as he held your stare. You both gasped and moaned as you finally sank down on him. Your body resisted just a little to fit him inside at first. Bucky felt it too, and an arrogant smirk formed on his face as he grabbed your hips in place and gently thrust his hips up, filling you up.

You moaned out loud as he did. “Fuck, you feel good, little thief.” He whispered. 

Once he was buried deep inside you, you leaned in to kiss him again while lifting your lower body just the slightest, before sliding back down on his cock, you whimpered as he groaned, filling you up and being all snug inside of you. 

“Oh fuck,” He swore again, “You feel so tight around daddy’s cock.” 

The tip of his cock reached places you never knew existed. You whimpered, whining in pleasure as you took a good look at the man beneath you. He oozed power, manspreading on the couch with you on his cock. 

You moved faster then, impaling yourself down on his cock each time. You whimpered shamelessly as you felt him filling you up completely each time, feeling him reach deeper into you with each thrust. His hand slipped between the two of you and found your clit, he rubbed it lazily. Grunting and moaning under his breath as you sped up even more, riding his cock and making him lose his damned mind.

“You have such a perfect little cunt…” He said, “It’s all mine now.” 

You were whimpering and whining yourself as you took more and more of him. But you couldn’t help but tease him, “And here I thought mixing business with pleasure was a bad thing.” 

Bucky playfully slapped your thigh. “I make the rules here. From now on, mixing business with pleasure is a very good idea.” 

You leaned down to kiss him, biting down and tugging at his bottom lip while you sped up, and his cock stretched you out each time he filled you up. “Fuck,” You whined. 

His hand circled around your waist and he pulled your warm body closer to his. He was still very much clothed, except for his cock being out and buried inside you. Meanwhile your PJs were on the floor, leaving you completely naked on his lap. Something about that contrast made it even hotter. 

“Beg.” He said, “I want to hear you beg me to let you come.” 

You bounced on his cock moaning and whining, feeling him stretch you out as you stared into his blue eyes. 

“Please daddy,” You whimpered, “Please, can I come?” 

Bucky held you at your waist and rhythmically thrust his hips up each time to match your movements. “Hold on, just a little,” He panted against your cheek, kissing the side of your face and gripping your jaw with his hand. “Just a little,” He whispered, “Wait for me.” 

“Please… I can’t,” You didn’t slow down as you felt your orgasm wash over you, and he kept thrusting his hips up into you as your eyes rolled back and you moaned out loud as you came, hard, feeling your walls squeezing and clenching around him as you came undone. You panted and leaned forward, pushing your face into his neck to catch your breath. 

Bucky came right after you, his warm load spilling inside of you, filling you up as he wrapped his arms around you and pressed your trembling body closer to him.

“I’m sorry,” You said as you caught your breath. “I’ll wait next time.” 

Bucky laughed. “It’s alright. You were still such a good girl for daddy.” He murmured. 

—

That night changed everything. 

Ever since, each time you annoyed Bucky he would just fuck you against the nearest surface. Safe to say you began to annoy him even more. 

But he could also be kind sometimes. For instance this one time when he found you in the library: 

You were lounging on a sofa, reading when he walked in silently. 

“Winter’s tale?” He surprised you with both his literary knowledge and presence. 

You peaked at him from behind your book and said, “Leontes is such a cunt. Quite like you sometimes.” 

Bucky ended up fucking you right there on the sofa. And then promised to get you your own bookshelf in the library because he didn’t like the way you stuffed your books among his on the current shelves. It’s messy and immature, he said. Grown ups don’t keep their books like this, he said. 

Bucky could also be so confusing at times. Like how he would always treat you like the thing between the two of you was just a casual fling. But then he would get jealous whenever he saw you getting too close to any one of his guys while you trained with them. 

“I will be overseeing your training from now on. No need to join the guys in the morning.” He said out of nowhere when you joined him for dinner in the dining room one night. 

“Why?” You asked. 

“Because you distract them too much with your shenanigans. Constant flirting, walking around in your little workout outfits, all that needs to stop.” He spoke, avoiding your eyes. 

You smirked. “So we’re gonna be early morning workout buddies from now on?” 

He sighed, “Don’t make me regret this.” 

You chuckled, “Oh you will regret this.” 

He did. But in the best ways. So each morning workout either started or ended with a nice fuck sesh. 

—

You were at your workstation one morning when Bucky walked in with a serious look on his face. 

You’d just seen him a couple of hours ago for your ‘workout’ so you wondered why he was back. Usually he left you alone for most of the day, only finding his way back to your bed late at night. So this was unusual. 

“What’s going on? Why do you look like you want to murder someone?” You asked as he stood right in front of you with an earpiece in hand. 

“Put this on.” He said. 

You did as he asked. And waited. 

Bucky grabbed his phone, walking to one of the nearest screens and a few taps later, you were looking at the live feed of some kind of body cam. 

“What’s this?” You asked. Just then, you began hearing muffled voices coming from the earpiece. 

Bucky turned to you. “My guys are… retrieving something of mine from a secret location. I need you to guide them.” 

Your eyes widened. “Wait, is this it? Is this the thing you needed me for?” 

Bucky’s face gave away nothing. “Just do as you’re told.” 

You nodded, quickly looking back at the screen. “Who’s leading them?” You asked. 

Someone’s muffled voice replied from the earpiece. “Thor is.” 

You nodded, looking at the screen. “Right. How could I miss those biceps that are bigger than my head?” You said. 

Bucky smacked you on the butt and said, “Focus.” 

“I am, I am. I got this.” 

Anf for the next few minutes, you led the men through whatever maze of a building they were in. You found the location within seconds and managed to have a blueprint of the place. You warned them of the cameras, told them when to move and when not to. You instructed Thor how to pick an ancient looking lock that led them into an even bigger maze. But you did everything right, used the right strategies, the right tricks up your sleeves, and you managed to get the guys out of there safely, with the mystery package they stole. 

Once they were out in the clear and confirmed that they were on their way home, you turned to Bucky and asked, “How did I do?” You waited eagerly for his response. 

Bucky just smirked and said, “Good. You passed the test.” 

Your smile faded fast. “What? What test?” 

Bucky explained, “The guys weren’t actually out stealing shit. I just wanted to see how you would do in a situation like that. And you did great. Congratulations, little thief.” 

He turned to walk away but you called out. “You know, I deserve a nice gift for being so amazing.” 

“Do you now?” He asked, not turning around. 

“Yes, I want a dog!” 

Bucky paused at the door. “No.” He said and left. 

“Please, daddy…” You pouted. 

“No.”

Oh well, it was worth a try. 

— 

The next morning, you woke up and got ready for yet another day of annoying Bucky. However, when you stepped out of your bedroom door, you noticed something outside your door. 

It was a basket. And inside it slept two puppies, two of the fluffiest little balls of fur you’d ever seen. Once the shock passed, you began tearing up immediately. 

You picked up the basket as slowly as you could and made your way to Bucky’s bedroom. You walked in without knocking. And there he was, standing in the middle of the room, getting ready for the day, buttoning his black shirt, casually looking like a god. Once he saw you, his playful smirk showed itself. 

“So, how do you like-,” He stopped talking the moment the first tear fell down your cheek. His smirk disappeared. “What is it?” He asked. 

You carefully placed the basket down, the puppies inside it sleeping soundly. Then you rushed to Bucky, wrapping your arms around him tightly. 

Bucky hugged you back instantly, though confused concerning your reaction. Out of all things, he didn’t expect this. “Hey, what’s going on?” He asked, softly. 

You sniffled, hiding your face in his chest. “I was thirteen when I ran from my uncle and aunt’s house.” You said, voice muffled. “And they had dogs so I grew up with them. But when I took off to be on my own, I couldn’t have a dog because I could barely take care of myself.” You sniffled again. “And it’s hard being without animals when you grew up around them, you know?” You let more tears wet his shirt. “Thank you,” You said, finally. 

Bucky held you as your shoulders shook with your sobs. He placed a gentle kiss on your temple and whispered, “Oh baby, I’ve got you now.” 

You pulled away to look at him, both of you ignoring the patch of wetness your tears left on his grey shirt. “You got me two puppies.” 

Bucky smiled down at you. “You deserve it.” 

You sniffled, “You’re being nice, what do you want?”

“Nothing,” He rolled his eyes, “Now get out of here.” 

You stayed put. “I can’t. I have to make it even.” 

“Yeah?” Bucky raised an eyebrow at you. “How?” 

You shrugged. “I don’t know, let me suck your-,” 

He cut you off by pulling you closer, a hand wrapped around your throat already. “You are very tempting right now, in your little red dress. And if you don’t want want me to tear it off right this instant, I’d suggest you-,” 

You cut him off this time, “Who said I don’t want you to tear it off?” You asked with a smirk. 

Bucky sighed before pushing you down on his bed. “I’ve got a busy day ahead.” He said, looking down at you as he hovered above you, “But you don’t care about that, do you?” 

You giggled, shaking your head. “Not one bit.” You said, running your hands over his chest and his strong shoulders. 

He smirked, giving in. He leaned in for a brief kiss while he pulled your dress up and placed both his hands on either one of your knees and separated your legs, settling in between them. 

Your heart raced in anticipation. His hand slowly dragged your thin underwear down your legs and threw it around somewhere behind him as he inched his face closer to your already dripping core.

“Such a fucking brat.” He mumbled and brushed his soft lips along your inner thighs, making you giggle and moan quietly under your breath.

“Shut up, admit it. You’re obsessed with me.” You sassed, then moaned out loud when you felt his warm tongue lick from your entrance up to your clit. You felt a familiar rush in your veins. Fuck he was addicting. 

Your hands grabbed fistfuls of his hair, tugging on it as his mouth teased you. His tongue slowly circled around your clit, earning more moans out of you as your back arched off the bed. His bed, you realised. This was the first time you two were fooling around in his room. 

Only now did you realise how it smelt like him. Dark, male, addicting. But most of all, dangerous. Fuck, just his scent made your head all foggy in lust. 

Bucky had you squirming, moaning, a complete mess under him in no time. “I love seeing you like this,” He said, kissing your inner thighs, “Too busy moaning for me to run that smart mouth.” 

You couldn’t answer as your legs trembled around his head, he locked his arms around your thighs and pushed his tongue deeper into you, making you cry out of pleasure. 

“See what I mean?” He chuckled, “I bet you want to say something sassy so bad right now, but you can’t.” He playfully bit you before sucking on your clit. “Daddy’s tongue has you all tongue-tied, huh princess?” 

You cried out. “Please… please daddy,” You whined. 

With a proud smirk, a look of determination in his pretty blue eyes, and a couple more strokes of his tongue, he had you gushing out all over his tongue, lapping up all that you gave him. While you moaned and squirmed on his bed as he sucked on your sensitive clit until you calmed down. 

You kept your eyes shut as you caught your breath, feeling him leave small kisses all over your thighs. 

When you opened your eyes again, his face was right above yours. His devious blue eyes looking down into your wide open ones. You were certain all he saw in your eyes was hunger. For him. 

“I want you,” You whispered, sliding your hands into his hair. “Now.” You demanded. 

“Brat.” He hissed when you tugged on his hair. 

You smiled. “Pretty sure it’s princess.” You teased. 

“A bratty fucking princess then.” He didn’t give you a chance to sass back as he leaned in for a deep kiss, holding himself up with one hand as he quickly undid his trousers. You helped, pulling his cock out and stroking it. Bucky moaned into the kiss as you did, and the sound of it sent shivers down your back. 

You gasped, and whined into the kiss as he carefully slid into you, filling you up entirely, inch by inch. Stretching you out deliciously like he did all the time. Bucky wasted no time, he pulled out and pushed back into you, making you moan into the kiss each time until the makeout turned lazy and messy, filled with gasps and moans. 

You noticed he wasn’t being as ravenous as usual. He was… trying to be gentle with you. 

Indeed he was. Your heart skipped a beat when Bucky laced your fingers together and pinned both your hands above your head as he sped up just a little into you. He was groaning and panting against your lips as he fucked you slowly, and you were unable to focus on anything other than him. 

His hips rolled against your body perfectly, and his body weight pressing down gently on you was comforting. His grip around your hand tightened each time you’d moan his name out loud. 

“That’s it, princess.” He whispered against your open mouth, “Tell me who’s making you feel this good. Who’s fucking you, huh?” 

You kept whimpering his name over and over again as he fucked you nice and slow, kissing his way down your face, from your collar bones to down your chest. And you cried out when he took a nipple into his mouth, teasing it with his tongue.

You opened your eyes as he pulled away to look down at you, his lips soft and pink and parted as he breathed rapidly, fucking into you a bit faster. 

Something shifted in that moment, you weren’t sure what. But something changed. 

His brows furrowed as he tried so hard to hold back and make you come before he did. “Fuck,” He swore. “Come for me.” He smirked and leaned down to whisper in your ear. “Come for daddy, princess.” 

You felt the pressure building in between your hips as he sped up even more, his metal hand reached down and grabbed your hip gently, keeping you in place as he sped up into you. Your bodies moved perfectly against each other.

Bucky pushed his face into you and nuzzled your neck as he growled in pleasure. With a few more strokes of his cock, you came undone, moaning and whimpering under him, grinding against him hungrily while he came right after, filling you up again. 

He stayed there, limp on top of you for a brief moment, before he slid off of you and laid down beside you. He caught his breath while you blinked rapidly, trying to calm your racing heart and figure out what the hell just happened. 

Before the awkward silence settled in completely, you got up on shaky legs and fixed your dress. “Well, this has been fun. I gotta go feed my new kids now. See you later.” You grabbed the puppy basket and almost ran out of his bedroom. 

As you shut the door, you heard him laughing to himself. A boyish, carefree laugh that made you smile. 

— 

With your new dogs, training, your lab, more training, days flew by. 

Whatever Bucky had planned, whatever big heist you were supposed to carry out, you knew it was coming soon. 

You often wondered what would happen once you successfully stole whatever he intended for you to steal. You didn’t even know what it was yet. Must be something precious either way, if all this planning went into it. But what after that? Would you no longer work for Bucky then? 

Would this… whatever it was between the two of you that both of you absolutely refused to acknowledge – no matter how much Sam teased you both for it – would it all end? 

You were lost in thoughts of all this when you found yourself mindlessly making your way to Bucky’s office one evening. Your two dogs, loyally in tow. 

You found Bucky in an equally sour mood as you, sulking at his desk with a drink. 

You shut the door behind you, leaving the dogs outside as you made your way to Bucky. He looked up at you and silently patted his lap. You made yourself comfortable on his thighs, an arm around his neck as you leaned in and nuzzled his cheek. His stubble rough against your nose and cheek. 

“What’s wrong?” You asked, “What has you looking like an evil god plotting the end of mere mortals who are standing in the way of you dominating the world?” 

He chuckled at that. “You are so annoying you should be grateful at least you’re pretty to look at.” He mumbled, taking a sip of whatever was in his glass. You assumed it was whiskey. 

You couldn’t help the laugh that left your lips. But then you noticed that distant look in his eyes. Unfortunately, you were very good at reading people. You leaned in and kissed his cheek softly. 

“What is it?” 

He let out a sigh. “You never ask me what I’m keeping you around for.” 

You shrugged. “You said you’d tell me when it’d be the right time. I’m just waiting, I guess. You told me about Rogers and his men and how they stole something from you. The details aren’t necessary, whatever it is, I’ll get it back. I promise.” 

Bucky placed his glass down and turned to look at you. His metal arm held you securely on his lap. “It’s my mother’s ring.” He said. “The ring has been in our family for generations. All the men propose to their women with it.” He paused, then added, “I have nothing left of hers. Just the ring.” 

Damn. Well. You would have never guessed that. A family heirloom? Why would Rogers tell his men to steal that? How would he even know to steal that? 

You began to ask just that. “How did-,” 

Bucky answered before you could even finish your question. “Steve, Sam, and I used to be friends. I always thought we’d be friends till the very end. But then Steve went rogue, power got to his head.” 

Shit. No wonder Bucky and Sam were so close, they survived the downfall of a strong trio. 

“I’m sorry.” You murmured, gently stroking his cheek. “I’ve never had close friends like that, I can’t imagine what it must be like to lose them. But I can tell it makes you really upset.” You pointed out. Then you took a deep breath and said, “I’ll get your mom’s ring back. And I will even kick Steve for you if you ask me to.” 

Bucky gave you a faint smile. 

“Just get the ring back.” He said, staring deep into your eyes. “I need it.” 

Oh? The thought of him on one knee, asking someone to marry him was surprisingly uncomfortable. But you pushed all that aside. 

“So when do I go?” 

— 

Another week later, the plan was ready. Bucky’s men were ready. You were ready. 

You had the location, had studied the blueprint very well. You’d be in contact with Bucky the whole time through the earpiece. Steve was rumoured to be out of town. His guards would not be expecting the heist. This was perfect. 

Or so you thought. The moment you got near Steve’s house, a gut feeling told you something was off. And you must’ve mumbled something to yourself because Bucky’s voice came through the earpiece just then. 

“I’ll say it again. The moment you sense something wrong, fall back. Do you hear me?” He used the cold, bossy tone. 

You scoffed and replied, “Yes daddy.” 

A few of the guys chuckled around you. And you could hear Bucky sighing as you giggled to yourself. 

You noticed the guards getting ready to move, the typical security rotation. You looked behind you and whispered to the guys, “We have exactly twelve seconds to make it past the gates. Don’t be too loud, and follow me. If you can’t make it, stay back here and keep watch. Everyone understood?” 

They all nodded silently. 

“Okay… now!” 

Not all of the guys could make it. Some had to stay back because the twelve-second window was too short for everyone to beeline through the gates. 

But the group of you that made it past the gates and into Steve’s house were in for a big surprise. It was a trap, Steve wasn’t home but his people had been waiting for you. 

What was meant to be a clean heist ended up in a crossfire. 

You could hear Bucky barking orders through the earpiece. “Fall back! Now!” 

You almost did… but fuck you were so close. So close. That was when you took the earpiece off and tucked it into the pocket of your cargo pants. He may have been right, but the adrenaline was too much to resist. You’d missed this feeling, this rush of being so close to danger, to being caught… 

So you went for it. 

Walked deeper into the trap. 

You knew where the ring was kept, you had the little box in your hand. You didn’t have time to see what it looked like as you put it away in your pocket, along with the earpiece that Bucky surely was still screaming through. 

And then. The room exploded. 

Then there was nothing. Just ringing in your eyes, and blurry images in front of you. You coughed, gasping for air and all you got were dust in your lungs. 

You faintly remember hands reaching for you, dragging you, trying to get you to walk. But your body did not cooperate. It refused to. 

You don’t know how much time passed. Or where you were. 

You could hear the panic in his voice as you tried your hardest to reorient yourself. Bucky was here? You were lying on the floor somewhere. You couldn’t remember much. 

The heist. The ring. A lot of fighting. An explosion. 

Ah, an explosion that threw you across the room causing you to collide against a concrete wall. 

Your side hurt, badly. Your head throbbed. Your vision was blurry, but at least Bucky was here. He was here, you could hear his rapid footsteps approaching. 

“Baby….” His voice sounded distant. “Baby, open your eyes. Please.” He had never sounded so vulnerable. Due to the way your body moved, you assumed you were in a rapidly moving vehicle. “Look at me,” You felt his hands on your face, “Princess, please…” You couldn’t focus too well on what he was saying, “... sorry, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have… baby, please…” 

Then there was just darkness.

And pain. 

And a headache that refused to go away. 

But you were with Bucky so you gave into the darkness. You knew you were safe now that he was here. 

— 

When you woke up, you realised you were in Bucky’s room. On his bed. The headache was still here, not as bad as before though. 

The room was dimly lit, so you figured it must be well into the evening. The house was quiet, but as you tried to sit up, you heard him. 

“Thought you were gonna sleep for two more days.” 

You couldn’t help the smirk. “I slept for two whole days?” Then you panicked, looking around, “Where are my dogs?” 

“Safe, fed. Sleeping.” Bucky stepped out of the dark corner of the room, but didn’t come any closer. He was quiet for a few moments. Then, “You almost got killed.” He stated, looking like he hadn’t slept in days but no less handsome. 

You scoffed. “As if that’s all it would take to kill me. You know, I once fell from two storeys and survived with just a twisted ankle. I’m amazing like that,” You winked at him. “Besides, I did a good job. I managed to get your precious ring,” You went to pat your pocket, only to realise that you were no longer wearing those cargo pants. 

Of course, he wouldn’t have left you in those same clothes for two days while you recovered. You looked down under the blanket and you were wearing clean clothes. His clothes. Sweatpants and a t-shirt. The t-shirt smelled like him. 

“Looking for this?” He held his hand up and there it was. Prettiest piece of jewellery you’d ever laid eyes on. You could see the big, heavy stone from here. Dark green, black, silver. It looked elegant, and like it was crafted in some fae realm. It was truly unique. 

“You changed me.” You pointed out, looking down at the clean clothes. 

He gave you the same poker face. “What does it matter? I’ve seen you naked more times than I can count.” He said. 

“And you made me wear your clothes.” You gave him a bratty, triumphant look. 

He glared at you. “I’m sure my clothes feel more comfortable than those tight little dresses you wear all the time.” 

You gasped dramatically, “You mean those tight little dresses you fuck me in all the time?” 

That had him walking towards his bed immediately. “Don’t fucking tease me. Not right now, you’re hurt.” 

“Aww,” You teased, “You care about me.” 

Bucky sat down on the edge of the bed, turning to face you. “I guess I do.” He said, reaching out to touch your face carefully. 

You couldn’t look away from him. He was so gorgeous. Even in poorly lit rooms with his face half hidden in shadows, he was the most handsome man you’d ever seen. 

He smirked when he noticed you checking him out, “I know I’m pretty, stop drooling.” 

You scoffed, shoving on the shoulder. The muscular bastard of course didn’t even move an inch. 

“I’m gonna go bring you some food.” He said, taking your hand in his metal one. “You’ve been unconscious for days, you need the energy.” He slid the ring on your ring finger so casually it took you a few moments to realise what he’d just done. 

Only when he got up to walk away did reality hit you. Hard. “Wait, what the fuck?” You held your hand up, “What does this mean?” 

Bucky gave you a shrug, “Get used to it.” 

“Bucky!” 

“What?” 

You blinked, mouth open, your body frozen in shock. “Did you just… are you for real? I thought the plan was to get the ring back so you could display it in your office and admire it like the deranged villain you try so hard to be.” 

He couldn’t help but laugh. “Change of plans.” 

You lowered your eyes, tracing a finger over the big stone on the gothic looking ring. “You can’t marry a thief.” 

Bucky sat back down again, taking your chin between his fingers. “Why not? You stole something very precious the day you broke into my home, and this is your punishment now. A life sentence, if you will.” 

“What did I steal?” 

“My heart.” 

You groaned at his cheesiness, leaning in and hiding your face into the crook of his neck. “You bastard.” 

Bucky chuckled. “I love you too.” 

You were quiet for a moment, breathing in his scent. It grounded you. But then you pulled away and asked, “What about Steve?” 

“I’ll deal with him.” Bucky answered, sounding grave and cold. “He hurt my princess,” He said, pulling you closer so much that you were almost on his lap, “I’m gonna kick his ass.” 

You giggled, “Well technically he hurt your princess because she broke into his house to steal. Honestly, he had every right to hurt your princess.” You argued. 

Bucky smirked, “So you agree? That you’re my princess?” 

You rolled your eyes at him, “Technically I’m your fiancé but I don’t really care about labels so yeah, I’ll be your princess or whatever.” 

He laughed, “Oh you don’t get to be nonchalant about this. I’ll throw a big party, invite the whole city if I want to. And you’re gonna be the centre of attention the whole night, parading around in a pretty dress of my choice, showing off your ring, and telling people how much you’re in love with me.” 

You groaned again. “You are insufferable.” 

“I love you too, princess.” He repeated, kissing your forehead.

[surielstea]

Don’t you like me?

Based on this request.

Pairing: Eris x Fem!Reader

Summary: Reader has been secretly in love with Eris since she was little, so what happens when she’s to be married off to another in a weeks time and he’s yet to make a move?

Warnings: Smut | Minors DNI | 18+ only | p in v | heavy breeding kink | multi-orgasm | cream pie | dirty talk | use of pet names (bunny, baby) | outdated beliefs | typical autumn court views

A/N: HEAVY smut. Like this is fr the filthiest thing I’ve ever published so hope all you freaks enjoy…

5.9k words

I walked into the dining hall dressed in a stunning gown made from a forest green material that was beyond soft. The bodice was snug and hugged me in all the right places, while the skirt cascaded down in a waterfall of silk, a high slit cutting through the side to show a flash of my leg. I looked like pure perfection.

"Eris," I call to the male who was standing by the window, peering down at the fields, watching over the land like some kind of higher power.

"Hm?" He utters but doesn't cast a glance my way, forming a gaping cavity in my chest.

"Do you like my dress?" I ask, he still doesn't look at me. His arms are crossed over his chest and I can see the tips of his fingers blazing like he's forcing himself to refrain from moving. "The shopkeeper said it looked pretty on me," I smile. "He said it was so perfect that he just had to give me a discount," I add and his ears perk up, head whipping to me. "He?" The protective male asks and a small smile forms on my lips. "At least he had the decency to look at me when I speak to him." I shrug and he bristles, eyes flicking up and down, taking in my dress, my bare leg peering through the slit, the golden earrings he got me for my birthday hanging from my lobes, hair pulled back and out of my face how I knew he liked.

"Are you doing this on purpose?" He takes a step closer and I clasp my hands behind my back, staring up at him innocently. "I'm not sure what you mean, General." I flutter my lashes and a muscle along his jaw feathers.

"Bunny," He grits out and I only continue to stare up at him with curious eyes, the kind I knew made him stumble over his words. "My lord?" I ask with a wondering tone. He swallows thickly and then stones his features. "Are you ready for the ball?" He asks and I hold back from rolling my eyes and instead nod. "Are you?" I ask and he only replies with a sigh, his arm hooking through mine. "Let's get this over with." He muttered, then winnowed us into a crowded ballroom.

I've been trying to get Eris' attention since we were young, but he's always cast me off as a younger sister type, I refused to accept that, so I pushed his buttons. I was the daughter of Beron's most trusted advisor, this ball was put together in order to find me a suitor, every one of these men is here for my hand, I was hoping Eris did something before we got here, hoping he'd say something, anything. But he didn't. So we stood in the center of the ballroom and stared ahead of us at Beron who sat on his throne, my father at his side.

The both of them gave me foxlike grins and I gulped down the anxiety lodged in my throat, hand tightening around Eris' as we approached the dais.

"My lord," I curtsy to the high lord while Eris bows. "Rise girl, today is your day." He hums in a grating voice I've grown to hate. I flick my eyes back up to the eldest Vanserra and do as he says, Eris as well. "I cannot thank you enough for putting on this event for me, I'm beyond grateful," I say to him in a light tone, a polite grin on my face. My father hasn't so much as spared me a glance so I don't look at him either.

"Yes well, you've been of age for some time now haven't you?" He shifts in his throne as if his legs could spread any wider. "I have, my lord." I bow my head. "I have no doubt you'll be able to find an eligible suitor tonight, you look absolutely ravishing." He grins and that expression has never made me more nauseous. Eris' hand tightens on mine and I realize he's still holding it. "I've handpicked all of the males attending tonight, do me a favor, and don't let that work go to waste." He instructs and I nod, his eyes then fall between Eris and I, where our hands are linked. Eris reacts before I can even notice, his hand slipping from mine. My breath hitched for a moment and I turned to look up at him with slightly creased brows. His expression remains stoic as he continues to stare ahead, not daring to meet my gaze.

"Go on," Beron waves us away. I curtsy once more before spinning on my heel, expecting Eris to follow after me but he stayed behind, joining his father's other side on the dais. It was hard to watch so I didn’t look any longer and direction my line of sight to the sea of men waiting for my attention.

I ball my hands into fists before shaking them out as I stare at all the males with beckoning eyes, wanting to be picked for the first dance.

Traditionally I'd dance with the high lord, but the older male didn't seem to have an interest in upholding said tradition, so it was my pick. How generous.

My eyes snag on a head of strawberry-blonde hair in the back. Langdon, a fair-skinned male with piercing green eyes and a gangly figure, I've known him since I was a girl— had a crush on him since his family came into nobility. He was kind, or rather, as kind as they got in the Autumn Court. He wasn't looking my way, this was my ball and he still wasn't looking my way. Why is it that I always wanted men who hold no interest in me?

I look behind me to spot Eris already staring, his fingers anxiously twisting the golden ring around his pinky finger. One of his tells, that one specifically informed me that he was nervous. Over what? I had no idea, but some buried part of me wanted to place my hands over his and tell him there was nothing to worry about.

I shove the feeling down and turn back to the crowd of males who seemed to now stand a whole yard closer.

I was only thankful Beron didn't choose for me, or worse, my father.

Fortunately, Langdon was looking at me now. Our gazes catch and I give the slightest dip of my head. The males who understood they hadn't been picked dispersed, leaving Langdon and I parallel to each other.

The music begins and I remain where I stand, waiting for the male to approach me instead. Once he gets to my side he offers his hand and I take it with little hesitation, the chorus of the song starts and our waltz begins.

I've been trained my entire life for this, my father has made sure I was educated on every custom and tradition of how Autumn Court females must behave, should I step a toe out of line he'd be there to reprimand me, whether that meant physically or mentally.

I knew every dance like the back of my hand, memorized how each dress was hemmed, could do each house chore with my eyes closed, and recite exactly where my place was to anyone who asked— it's been beaten into me so many times it'd be a parody to forget. I belong beside my husband, raising his children. That was it. That's all I've been told I'm any good for.

"I won't ask for your hand," Langdon hums mid-step and I look up to him with curious eyes. I'd be lying if a pang of hurt didn't run through my chest. "And why not?" I ask, my dress swirling around me as he twirls me around. "I won't tie you down, I refuse." He shakes his head and my heart aches. "So you'll let someone else then?" I suggest and he swallows, clearly not thinking of the others. "It's not like that," He sighs. "You wouldn't be happy with me." He explains with guilt simmering in his eyes. "So you'll subject me to being unhappy with another just because of your own selfishness?" I presume and his brows raise a fraction. "No," He shakes his head. "I'll subject you to make your own decision because you're in love with another," He claims and my breathing halts for a moment.

I go quiet, silently taking myself through the steps I've been doing since I was a child. "I'm not sure what you mean." I finally manage to get out. "Oh c’mon, it's obvious to every male here except him." The blonde scoffs and I refrain from rolling my eyes, he is preaching to the choir.

"Even if you're right," The music stops and so do we. I stare up at him with an unwavering amount of elegance. "I can't have him," I whisper and he squares his features. "I won't tie you down." He repeats, believing he's doing me a favor by pulling himself from the equation. "I understand." I nod, even if I don't want to, then I curtsy one last time towards the male and take another's hand.

I went through at least ten more tedious males after that and nearly twenty tiresome waltzes before I was allowed a break. I loved to dance, sure, but not like this. Not in a ballroom full of predators. I miss when it was just Eris and me when he'd meet me here at midnight and we'd sway, following no choreography but rather flowing to the music, improvising to whatever song played. I could still feel the way his warm arms wrapped around me, how he cradled me to his chest while we talked softly about anything and everything. That was the Eris I knew, that was the Eris I loved. Not this mask made for the public, the one his father forced him to be.

I was startled from my daze by a hand coming to my forearm. I jump slightly and turn to the figure at my side. "Apologies for disturbing you, my lady," A brunette male I wish I could recall the name of stood before me. He was the sixth male I danced with, we waltzed three times if I remember correctly.

"No worries," I shake my head with a polite smile. "I've spoken to your father," He swallows nervously and I glance to the dais where Beron and my father were but Eris no longer was.

"He's consented to my asking for your hand," The male explains and my head snaps back to him, brows slightly raised. The brunette wasn't unattractive by any means, in fact, he was quite handsome, but he's not who I want him to be— guilt forms in my stomach at the thought. Langdon had been right.

A hand comes down onto my shoulder before I can think of a reply, but I don't startle this time. Because I could recognize that scent of warm cinnamon and campfire embers from anywhere, along with the feel of his large, calloused hand, the touch was beyond familiarity.

"Sorry to interrupt," A baritone voice purrs and my eyes light up. "But I need to borrow her for a moment," His hand slides down my arm protectively and I have to hold back from scoffing, he had the nerve to ignore me all night but as soon as another male shows interest, he comes over to claim me.

"Of course my lord," The brunette bows his head respectfully. "Go on then," He shoos and I whirl around to face the heir as the other male skitters away. "Are you serious?" I cross my arms over my chest, staring up at the redhead who had a smirk plastered onto his features. "That's the first proposal I've gotten all night!" I say with a hush and his smirk only widens. "Oh I know, you have no idea how hard it is to fend them off." He grumbled like it was a weight on his shoulders. My eyes widen as I stare at him in shock. "Are you kidding— What's the point of this event if you're scaring off every interested suitor?" I crease my brows, hands dropping to my hips.

Eris' head whips to the dais where both of our fathers are intently watching us. "C'mon," The heir grabs me by my wrist. "We need somewhere private." He decides, pulling me through the length of the ballroom, my protests are halfhearted, not minding the idea of getting away from this place. He pulled us into a sectioned-off alcove that was secluded enough for him to winnow us elsewhere.

My feet landed on dark wooden tiles, stood in the master bedroom of Eris' apartment on the outskirts of Autumn that not even Beron knew about.

"Why are you fending them off?" I question, narrowing my eyes at him skeptically. He shrugs with a stoic expression, looking towards the unlit fireplace at our right. "The people my father picked," He starts. "None of them can be good." He explains and I grit my teeth. "He picked Langdon." I excuse and Eris nearly growls at the name. "Langdon is a prick and he doesn't deserve you," Eris states like it's a fact. "He's nice to me," I mutter softly. "The bare minimum isn't something you should settle for." His brows straighten and something evil churns in the pit of my stomach. "Well, it's not like I have many options." I square my features, glaring up at him and maintaining my ground.

He hasn’t done anything up until now and as soon as I show any fraction of interest in someone else he comes to swoop me away? It was unfair. He doesn't reply, his fists clench at his sides but they quickly loosen when he sees the line of tears in my waterline threatening to spill. "You think I want to marry any of these males? It's not my choice, it's never been my choice." My hands come up to his chest, gripping the cleanly pressed shirt. "You've always had a choice," His hands come to my wrists. I nearly laugh. "Are you serious? Who are you to tell me about choices? You have no idea what it's like to be a fucking doll Eris, I'm a broodmare who's only used for my body and when that's not good enough anymore, I'm nothing." My words come out in a rasp, my fingers clenching his shirt and wrinkling it.

"Don't stand there and tell me I have a choice when you've done nothing to stop me from getting sold off to the highest bidder." My tears are now falling but I don't care, I have too little energy to wipe them away— so he does, his warm hands I wish I didn't find comfort in come to my cheeks and his thumbs brush away the salty tears with the most delicacy I've ever seen him display. "If you won't do anything now I strongly doubt you'll do anything when I'm someone else's," I murmur and his eyes fall into something of terror.

"I'm sorry." He confesses and my heart sputters, I've only ever heard Eris Vanserra apologize for two things in his lifetime, and this was one of them. "You’re right. I should've done more." He confesses. "I tried," He mutters. "I offered to sleep with you— they'd mark you as impure and banish you from the forest house, you could've run away." He explains. "But that's not enough, I should've done more." His hands remain on my cheeks. "Don't you get it?" My hands splay flat on his abdomen. "I don't want more, I just wanted you," I confess and his breathing halts. I think I've truly done myself in, but there was no use holding it any longer. I'll be married off by the end of the week and probably won't see Eris again until our separate children are having playdates. None of this mattered.

"What?" He croaks out and I swallow. "I wanted you," I repeated and I swore his eyes flashed with relief. His hands remain on my face, fingertips slightly warming as he dissects his thoughts. "I thought I made it obvious," I say. "But you never did anyth—" My words are cut off as his lips crash into mine with a foreign passion.

His hands pull me closer and my breathing stops as I realize what's happening. He's kissing me. I move to kiss him back, hands snaking up from his chest and to his shoulders where I wrap around the back of his neck and pull him closer, his chest pressing into mine as he backs me up towards the wall until I'm flat against it.

He doesn't back away for a moment like he needs the heat of my lips or he'll freeze without it. His brows crease as he kisses me with intent, not wanting this moment to end in case it gets torn away from him.

"Eris," I pant out as I back away. "I thought you hated me," I admit and his eyes soften. "Hate you?" His hands hold tighter to my jaw. "No bunny, never." His head shakes and he pulls me in again, placing a soft yet lasting kiss on my lips. "Wait," I back away and he immediately halts. "What are you saying?" I try to piece everything together but it's no use.

"I want you." He confesses and my stomach does backflips. "Want me?" I rasp out in pure disbelief. "Need you." He corrects and my heart lurches into my throat, his lips reconnect with mine, and this time his tongue swipes along my bottom lip, hands coming to the bottoms of my thighs as he hoists me up and presses my back to the wall, legs coming back to wrap tightly around his hips as his tongue explores every undiscovered crook and crevice like he needed to memorize me before I disappeared.

"Eris we can't," I whisper into his lips and he shakes his head. "I won't let them have you." He defends and my heart crumbles into two. "This is going to ruin me," I admit, tears still streaming from my eyes. "We'll figure it out." He promises and a lump forms in my throat. He backs away to look at my teary expression, brows creasing as he stares at my disgruntled gaze. "I'll be banished from this court," I murmur. As much as I hated the people here, this is my home. I didn't want to just up and leave. "Noble blood or not I'll be marked a whore, it's out of wedlock." I sighed and a soft smile graced his features as he began to pepper kisses along the side of my face, kissing my salty tears away. "I suppose we'll have to get married then." He hums and I place my hand on his jaw pushing him back. "I'll have Beron off his throne soon, the night court's Spymaster and I have already devised a plan. It'll work." He reassures, running his hand through my hair.

"I'll marry you right now, we can go out and find a priestess and I'll have you as my High Lady." He promised and my brows crease as he describes something too good to be true. "Or we can do all that in the morning," He whispers. "Because it's awfully hard to not need you while you're in this dress." He hums and I smile, my tears gone, all kissed away. "I won't let them have you." He repeats, stressing his words, and I believe him, so I nod.

His lips surge back onto mine and I push away the thoughts of the repercussions and let myself enjoy every moment of this.

His hands grip the underside of my thighs and he pushes me harder against the wall, pressing his chest to mine and kissing me with the purpose I craved. I tighten my hold around the back of his neck and wrap my legs around him, my dress in the way— I need him closer, so much closer.

"Eris, please," I whine and he nods, understanding what I want. He pushes off the wall and carries me to his bed, laying me down on my back, I arch up and his hands pull at the strings of my corset. So many layers, too many between us. I work at the buttons of his shirt, slowly revealing his toned, muscular chest.

The way he kissed me was hungry like he's been constraining himself for far too long. He gets my corset undone and I finally feel like I can breathe. Clothes are thrown into every corner of the room as he rips my skirts off and I move to the ties of his pants. Once we're clad in nothing but skin he mounts over me, his heavy, hard cock pressing against my abdomen. It was hot and quick and had everything I needed.

His hand cups over my heat, calloused fingers diving into my folds, adding friction I didn't know I needed. "Eris," I whine and he grunts at the way my name rolls off his tongue, the desperation in my voice making his cock leak pre-cum. "Fuck, you sound so perfect moaning my name." He sighs out, two of his long fingers finding my entrance, and before I can reply they plunge deep inside of me. I bite down on my bottom lip, tears prickling at the corners of my eyes due to the foreign stretch. His fingers were long, and thick, and felt so fucking good.

I yelped as his calloused thumb came down onto my clit, tracing tight circles around it. I hissed at the pain, how he stretched me out, preparing me for his cock. “I’m sorry bunny, I’ll make love to you next time I promise,” He whispers into the shell of my ear and I whimper, the intense feeling consuming me as he curls his fingers, flicking them against my sensitive walls. “Next time?” I ask my words barely a rasp. “That’s right,” He kisses my cheek, getting rid of a tear there. “But right now I need to fuck you, I’ve wanted this for so fuckin’ long I can’t hold back,” He grunts, his voice laced with pure lust. “You understand don’t you bunny?” He says, kissing down my jaw to my neck where he nipped at the sensitive skin, all I can do is nod, praying he doesn’t stop.

His fingers brush over a sensitive, spongy spot and I gasp, my back involuntarily arching at the feeling. “Right there, Eris, my god—” My breath hitched as he toyed with the area. My legs jolted and I was so close, I had never orgasmed off someone’s hand alone before yet here the heir was, finger fucking me right into my high.

“That’s it, baby, need you nice and wet for me,” He hums, sucking marks onto my neck. I whine and my cunt pulsated with an impending release. My nails dig into his large bicep, brows creasing as I teeter on that euphoric high. I clench tighter around his fingers and he does something wicked with his thumb against my clit, pushing me over into my orgasm. Waves of pleasure slam into me as I finally release and reach that climax, and when I do, it’s Eris’ name on my lips.

“That’s it, you did so well,” He praises, pressing a kiss to my forehead. I finally came down from my high and his fingers slowed, pulling them from my entrance, lathered in my slick. “Think you’re ready for me?” He asks, lathering his cock with my arousal left on his hand. Words fail me. I couldn’t even look at it without feeling overwhelmed, I was sure he’d split me in half.

“We can go slow,” He promised but gods I didn’t want slow, I wanted to make him feel good.

I shook my head and he arched his brow. “No?” He tilts his head. “I don’t w’na go slow, Eris,” I murmur and he leans closer, pressing a kiss to my jaw. “Oh yeah? Tell me what you want then bunny,” He prompts, nudging me with his nose to go on— but his cock was pressed against my heat and it was hot, so fucking hot I felt like I was on fire. “Want— wanna make you feel good,” I mumble and a foxlike grin spreads across his face. His forearm comes down beside my head, propping himself above me, his face mere inches from mine. “Do you now?” The male asks. “And how are you g’na make me feel good?” He questions and I swallow thickly. “Uhm,” I utter, suddenly very shy under his gaze. “Don’t be nervous, I’m not gonna judge I promise,” He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear.

“Well— it’s just, usually on wedding nights in the autumn court the male feels compulsive to, breed, the female,” I swallow thickly and I swear his amber eyes flash golden for a moment.

“Is that what you want bunny? Want me to breed you?” He says and I flush hot. “Never mind, forget it,” I bring my hands up to my face, covering my red cheeks. “Oh baby it’s too late,” He grabs my wrists in one of his hands, lifting them above my head and pinning them there commandingly. I whimper in reply. “Your safe word is firelight okay?” He says as he kisses down my neck and all I can do is nod. “Good, now turn around for me,” He lets go of my wrists and I do as he says, flipping over onto my stomach, hiking my knees up, and arching my back as much as I could, giving him perfect entrance. He grinned at my obedience, patience waning as he admired how good I was being for him.

The unlit hearth from earlier was now roaring with flames, even though I told Eris to do whatever he wanted with me he was still holding back, redirecting his power elsewhere.

“C’mon Eris, don’t be mean,” I whine as he leans over me, pressing a gentle kiss to my shoulder blade. “Poor bunny, so needy,” He whispers beside my ear and I grip the sheets in my fists at the demeaning tone of his voice. “Please,” I murmur. “Please what? Say it, baby,” His hands come to my hips, his thumbs kneading the plushness of my ass. “Breed me,” I utter, barely even a whisper but it was enough to make whatever was restraining his break, and he snapped.

His heavy cock slaps against my folds, dragging himself through them, lathering himself in my arousal for easier entrance though I’m certain I was wet enough already.

He aligns his fat tip with my core and without any further warning, he drives into me, pushing the head of his impressive cock deep inside of me. I nearly screamed at the sensation, biting at my lower lip hard enough to cause blood. “Eris,” I mewl, my nails clawing at the sheets. One of his hands reaches over me and intertwines with the back of my palm, his other hand finding purchase at my breast, gripping it harshly, his calloused, large hands kneading it pleasantly.

“Fuck, you’re so gods’ damned tight,” He curses, his forehead resting against the back of my shoulder as he continues to push himself inside of me, and fuck was he so big, I could feel my walls hugging him, could feel every ridge and vein along him as he molded into me. Tears prickle at the corners of my eyes at how good it hurt, he had me filled to the brim and there was still more of him.

I throw my head back in exasperation, a moan escaping from the base of my throat. “All of you, want more,” I confess and I feel him smile against the skin of my shoulder blade, before he angles his hips back, pulling out to his fat tip, laying one last kiss to my back then slamming in, hitting home. He groaned at the feeling, tears streamed down my face, falling onto the pillow beneath me as I grip his hand tighter, he reciprocates it but his thrusts don’t slow, no, he’s pounding into me and I loved every second of it.

“Eris— Ah,” My breath hitched. “I can’t, s’too much,” I hiss but he doesn’t stop, his hips drive deeper and I pulse around him. His base slammed into mine, tight balls smacking into my folds as he hammered me from behind. I gasp as his slit brushes over my cervix. Oxygen leaves me and I fist the sheets, screaming his name once I find my voice. “You feel that bunny? Feel me stretching you on my cock?” He hums beside my ear and I struggle to even think about anything but his cock.

He can’t help but continue to knock the area over and over again, it made him feral, and the way I squirmed beneath him had his cock twitching.

Gods he was so close to my womb, so close he could practically release directly into it. “I’m gonna fill you up so fuckin’ full, baby,” He grits out, his hold on my breast tightening. “Please,” I beg, needing him to release me inside. “I’m so close I can’t, I can’t take it—” I cry, tears free flowing as his thrusts grow faster, harder. “That’s too bad my sweet girl,” He purred. “Cause you’re g’na take me until you’re full of my cum, isn’t that right bunny?” He nips at the lobe of my ear and I nod with a pitiful whimper, feeling myself drip onto his cock, he was fucking me stupid.

The sound of his fat cock injecting into me over and over again mixed with the way his tight balls slapped against my folds left my pussy drooling on him. “You just love to milk my cock hm?” He said. “You take me so well, can’t wait to get you so full,” He grunts out and I grow hot, the knot in my stomach tightening.

“Eris I have to, I need to,” I pant out, sweat lining my forehead at how good he was slamming into me, pressing against my cervix every time and rubbing against that sweet, spongy spot. “Not yet,” He orders, and I whine in protest, brows furrowing as I fight off my orgasm and focus on pleasing him, squeezing around his cock, slowly beginning to lift away from him, then push myself back down onto him.

“Oh gods, yes, fuck yourself on my cock,” He groaned in pure ecstasy. I go faster, feeling his cock twitch as he watches the way my ass shakes, his cock disappearing inside my slit as I bounce on him. “Such a good bunny, just want me to come inside you so bad huh?” He taunts and I nod helplessly, mewls lifting from my lips as he grips my breast, my other bouncing due to my gyrations. “Ah, wait, baby,” His voice gets caught in his throat and I smile wildly at the sound. “You sure? About me cumming inside?” He grits out through closed teeth and I nod.

“Fuck yes, Eris. Give me your kids please,” I whimper and it makes him fucking feral. He somehow goes faster, reaching a primal state with an urge to breed, to make me mine in every way he can. “Your belly’s g’na get so round,” He mutters into the shell of my ear and I pant in reply, unable to form coherent words. “Fuck, can’t wait for your tits to start leaking,” He curses and a moan tears through the base of my throat. “I can’t— I’m gonna—” I can’t even finish my sentence before I’m convulsing around him and I reach my climax. He’s quick to follow, he kisses my cervix once more then shoots his release straight into my womb, panting heavily with a groan to match my whine, he paints my walls white and his seed was so fucking hot, like he just set me aflame from the inside out.

“Fuck,” He grunts out, forehead resting on my shoulder. It was a miracle I was still holding myself up, my arms were on the verge of buckling and if he wasn’t cradling my waist I probably would’ve crumbled the moment I found release.

Slowly, he slips out of me, his seed dripping down my thighs as he does so. A whimper slips past my quivering lips as his cock brushes through my folds one last time, then he slowly guides me down onto the bed, heavy breathing filling the room as the fire in the hearth dwindles.

“You did so fucking good for me baby,” He praises, pressing a gentle kiss to my lips that I return with all the energy I can muster, which wasn’t a whole lot. He smiles at this, brushing a strand of hair away from my tear-stained cheeks. “Awe, m’sorry I went so rough bunny, I promise I’ll make it up to you,” He reassured and I shook my head. “No, s’okay, felt good,” I sigh contentedly. “Yeah?” He tilts his head and I nod with a gentle smile. “My gods you’re perfect for me,” He bends down and presses his lips to mine, more passionate this time, conveying all his love in that action. “Let’s get you cleaned up, okay?” He murmurs against my lips and I nod, not worrying about what awaits in that ballroom, too preoccupied with enjoying the moment with my soon-to-be husband.

After the sheets were changed and I was dressed in a silky nightgown I was finally able to lay my head on a pillow. It was a mystery how I didn’t fall asleep standing up. Eris slid beneath the covers beside me, grabbing my waist and pulling me closer to him with a small grin.

“Tonight turned out a lot better than I thought,” He joked and I giggled, looking up at him with tired eyes. I look down at his chest, tracing random shapes on his bicep as my smile slowly morphs into a frown. “Hey, what’s wrong baby?” His big hand comes to my jaw, rubbing along my cheek and tilting my head up to him. “Nothing,” I shake my head, burrowing into his warmth. “Talk to me,” He urges, waiting for my response. “Why didn’t you ever show interest before tonight?” I ask softly, glancing up at his eyes that were staring down at me with so much adoration it was almost overwhelming.

“This just feels so surreal, it’s all I’ve ever wanted. It feels wrong to have it,” I explain further and his gaze softens. “You deserve my love and so much more my sweet,” He presses a hard kiss to the crown of my head. “And I couldn’t show any interest 'cause I didn’t want my father taking you away from me,” He confesses and I swallow thickly, my hand intertwining with his. “He won’t take me,” I promise, even if I didn’t know for certain. “No, he won’t, I know that now,” He reassures, pecking my cheek lovingly and I blush.

“My pretty fiancée,” He grins boyishly and I mirror it, finally being with the male I’ve been in love with for decades, I had him in my arms and I wasn’t going to let him go no matter what force tried to take him from me. I’m his as he is mine, and that’s all I could ask for.

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[coralinnii]

Hi! I saw that you were opening your requests for the next day or so to celebrate getting 2.7k followers! First off, I wanna say congratulations, and may you have a good day/night (almost wrote 'not' lol)!

Anyways, I read your rules, and wondered if I could get a fic with Leona, Vil, Malleus, and Lilia being in a relationship with a Venti! Reader? Essentially, Venti is a Genshin Impact character who plays the lyre, controls the wind, and has a playful personality.

‧₊˚✧ As Free as the Wind ‧₊˚✧

↳ Twst guys with a Venti!reader 

feat: Leona ❋ Vil ❋ Malleus ❋ Lilia  genre: humor, mild fluff note: no pronouns were used with the reader, Venti!reader is of legal age to drink, no spoilers regarding the Genshin Impact storyline, minor spoilers for TWST Book 7

Thank you reading my rules, always appreciate the extra effort people make! I deeply apologize for how late I am with this, but I hope you enjoy the post. Hopefully I captured Venti's personality well enough >_<'

2.7K Followers Writing Event 2023

Ooff, did he first thought you were a pain in his tail. 

Loud, cheeky, no fear of disturbing anyone for entertainment or favors… at least Ruggie has the decency to be useful. 

He scoffed when you smile and act as if he can’t sense a dangerous well of power within you, the playful persona you present may fool a common man but not Leona.  

He’ll play your game though. There’s no benefit to him to pry into your secrets. He finds this side of you, the one that would play a soft ballad for him for some booze money, much easier to deal with. 

This is a strange relationship, but Leona can respect someone strong and most of all, doesn't tell him what to do. You believe in free will and freedom above else, which Leona appreciates. 

“The concept of one king ruling over all... I can’t say I’m too interested in a land like that.” 

Leona laughed at your boldness. With you, there’s no sense about stuffy responsibilities and obligations. 

There are sweet days where you and Leona would spend the day in the greenhouse, Leona sleeping soundly as you play your lyre while humming your new poems, the wind carrying your melodic voice. 

“Huh, do you have a song for me? Hah, what do you want from me this time? Fine, I’ll let you play.”

Vil immediately clocked something powerful about you, your nonchalant persona is good, but you cannot fool a seasoned actor like him. 

No matter, though. Vil has no interest in delving into someone’s past like that. Vil assumes that if you must act so easy-going yet private about yourself, then he won’t pry into such things. One must have reasons, he supposed. 

However, Vil cannot let go of your pension for the “occasional” drink or two. Vil doesn’t care that you are older than your appearance suggest, alcohol impacts your body and health as you age so he rather you limit that little habit of yours. 

“Come now, Vil. Another bottle wouldn’t hurt~” 

“Hmmph, you don’t have to worry much about yourself when you’re drunk but I most certainly do, especially when you come to me reeking of wine.”

But you always managed to quell his anger by singing ballads and poems about your wonderful beloved Vil. That always lifts the Housewarden’s mood and you end up with a mere reprimanding. Hehe.

Vil will not, however, forgive you so easily if you get too mischievous with him. The beautiful man can respect your talent with wind and currents, but he doesn’t appreciate the gust you would conjure up if it messes up Vil’s appearance too much. 

“Don’t even think about running away from me. I know you were behind the sudden rush of wind, my mischievous one. Acting cute or sweet words is not going to work this time.”

However youthful you may appear, Malleus can sense an old soul within you which feels familiar and powerful. 

Malleus is often surprised by you, for your playful and bold nature while handling the wild winds as skillfully as you hold the lyre. You bear similarities to a certain someone that he can’t help but respect you and hold you to a higher regard than any typical being. 

Malleus doesn’t hate that easygoing personality of yours. On the contrary, he enjoys that spontaneous side of yours as you suggest the strangest of ideas to a powerful figure such as him. 

“Let's go jumping in puddles and see who can make the biggest splash!“

You are a sociable being, making friends so easily that it baffles the young fae. A few cute words from you and it was suddenly so easy to lower one’s guard around you. 

However, when you’re alone and don’t realize his presence, Malleus catches that gleam of loneliness in your eyes as you gaze from your tall resting spot. A look that Malleus feels a kinship with you in that regard.

”You would like to take a stroll with me tonight? Oh, a race in the sky, you say? Very well, but don't be conceited enough to believe I’m so easily bested.”

Dear Sevens, why would you ever let these two chaotic gremlins be in the same vicinity? Do you know no mercy for others?  

The two of you would hit it off so well, it’s almost concerning. Lilia finds you a delight to be around, almost a kindred spirit even. 

“So, you also took care of a dragon long ago.” 

“Yeap, but he sorta became a nation-wide threat when I decided to leave and go off on my own.” 

“Ah yes, those things do tend to happen.” 

(if you can’t tell who’s saying what, that really speaks to how similar a coincidence that was)

Jamming sessions ALL. THE. TIME. The campus has not known a single moment of rest as you display your musical talents in the courtyard while Lilia encourages you all the way, occasionally playing along with an instrument of his own.

Lilia is fascinated by your lyrical retellings of your world and would love to visit this kingdom that values freedom among all else, and of this dandelion wine you speak so lovingly about.

As a man with his own… history, Lilia isn’t the type to ask too much about you if he sees you dodging the question. He can recognize that familiar look of longing and loss, so Lilia doesn’t press further and instead indulge with you in one more glass of bittersweet wine. 

“What tales do you have to regale for tonight? I’m always captivated by these grand adventures of yours, it’s almost tempting for this old soul of mine, hehe.”

[majinbangus]

What happens when soap's on again and off again gf finds out he got someone else pregnant? And do you think she would try to keep him from his children and reader?

Also I hope Soap tells his mom and she chews him out for not being better to reader 😭 (I also want Soap's mom know already that she's going to be a grandma to twins and just kept it from Johnny for reader's health too.)

i struggled with this one, but it turned out hopeful in the end i hope its good

"What're you doing here?"

You don't know what hurts more: the way he said that as if he doesn't want you there (which he probably doesn't; you don't want to be there, either, but that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt any less), or the apprehensive look he doesn't bother masking. He's never really been one to hide his emotions, but would it have killed him to pretend to be on amicable terms with you for at least a couple of hours? Dumbass.

"I'm doing great, MacTavish, thanks for asking." You go for an overly friendly inflection, but anyone listening in would be able to hear the biting undertone in your sarcasm. "How have you been? Wonderful, you say? That's absolutely grand. Glad to hear it. Truly, thank you for taking the time to welcome me into your home."

You attempt a smile, but from the way Soap's expression pinches at it, it more than likely comes off as a poorly veiled scowl. You can't bring yourself to care. You're more focused on keeping yourself from breaking down, rubbing your hand almost obsessively over your belly, trying to calm yourself with the soothing motion. Soap looks down at it, face flashing with something. You're tempted to call it regret. Whether that's for knocking you up or for hurting you just now or something else entirely, you have no clue. He clenches his fists.

"... Does my family know that you're... that I'm..?"

That's what he's concerned about? Fucking prick. You're half-tempted to announce it to his whole family now. You didn't even want to be at his family gathering in the first place, but Mrs. MacTavish insisted, and you adore his mother (so much so that you’re afraid of her, too). It's been months since you last saw all the MacTavishes in person (for obvious reasons), and you know if you refused another invitation, the woman, though getting up there in age, would've dragged you to the party herself.

You rub your belly a tad faster, and his eyes dart down to the anxious movement again. "No, MacTavish, your family does not know you got me pregnant, so you can stop worrying. I... wasn't planning on telling them. Not now, at least. Or ever. I don’t know. I’m still thinking about stuff."

Perhaps it's the right call, perhaps not (it most likely isn’t), but the tension that visibly leaks out of his body offends you. 

"That's... probably for the best,” He exhales slowly.

“For you or for me?” You snark and he at least has the decency to wince.

“Hen… Princess–”

“Don’t call me that.” You curl your lips at him, teeth bared. A bitter kind of hurt grinds within your chest. He only called you that once before. For one night. It meant nothing to him, but everything to you. “Don’t pretend to care; you never called back to talk like we agreed. You’re such a prick, MacTavish.” 

“You never reached out, either,” He shoots back with a defensive frown that doesn’t feel justified. “And I have a reason for not calling back earlier…”

“Was that reason your girlfriend?”

His silence is telling.

You scoff with a derisive laugh. “Why am I not surprised?”

“Hey, it’s not like that,” He tries to protest, but you remain staunch in your acrimony. 

“Sure, it’s not.” You roll your eyes. “If it isn’t anything else, then what is it?”

“We,” Soap hesitates, breaking eye contact to focus on where your hand is on your stomach. He swallows, rephrasing himself. “After our phone call, I brought up what happened between us… Tried to explain what happened… Communicate with her since that was always a problem we had.”

“And?” You prompt after he falls silent for a few seconds, though you think you can predict where this story is going.

“She didn’t take it well.” He continues, “We’ve been fighting about it. Trying to come to a compromise, but she’d rather I cut contact with you.”

“You… don’t want that?” You smother any bit of hope you feel. You have to.

He doesn’t answer the question verbally, merely shaking his head. It doesn’t feel like a good enough response, but you can’t push him on it because then he’s talking again. “We’re not wanting the same things. Every conversation about it–” about you “–turns into an argument, and we’ve decided to…”

“Go on a break?” You fill in, but he shakes his head again, avoiding your gaze.

“I think it’s permanent this time.”

Oh. That’s… skeptical. After years of watching them go back and forth, it’s hard to believe the permanence of their breakup. You wouldn’t be surprised if that changed as soon as next week, or even tomorrow. But maybe it’s true this time. Maybe they won’t reconcile. If that’s the case, you are glad he’ll be out of such an exhausting relationship, but you won’t let yourself believe he’ll develop feelings for you. 

“I’m sorry,” You offer instead and Soap chuckles humorlessly.

“Do you mean that?”

“I don’t, but I know she was important to you.” Probably still is, but you won’t dwell on that. “I’m still upset with you, though.”

He chuckles again, a little more genuinely this time. It’s almost enough to make you smile. Almost. “Aye, I know. I deserve it.”

“You do.” And maybe a slap. A cathartic slap. Perhaps not for him, but it might do you good. “And you’re still a prick, but now that you’re not… occupied… Can we figure everything out?”

It’s small, but you can’t help that spark of hope that blooms in your chest at the soft smile he gives you.

“I’d like nothing more, Princess.”

(His mother heard the whole thing. She’ll discuss it later with the both of you. But for now, she’ll stay out of it and let you two work it out before getting involved. She just hopes her idiot son doesn’t mess things up with you. 

She much rather prefers you over his ex, after all.)

[sapphosclosefriend]

- I need you by my side -

Pairing: Royal! Natasha Romanoff x Princess! Fem! Reader

Genre: fluff, smut, tiny tiny bit of angst

Summary: you have known Natasha pretty much your whole life and you never thought you'd end up marrying her. On your first night officially together you learn to appreciate each other in more than one way (Medieval AU)

Word count: 7.5k

Warnings: top! Natasha, bottom! R, Nat has a penis, virgin! R, arranged marriage, very brief drinking, kissing, size difference, SMUT, oral (Nat receiving), balls sucking, cum eating, nipple stimulation (R receiving), fingering (R receiving), squirting, vaginal penetration, rough sex, cumming inside, a whole lot of fluff

A/N: this story contains smut so anyone who isn’t 18+ DNI. Both sets of parents are shitty tbh, but I guess it's accurate to the time period? The aesthetic in my head was very much game of thrones for this one. This is so much longer than I intended!! As usual likes, reblogs and comments are very appreciated! Enjoy ♡

Masterlist

It has been a long long day of making merry, a joyful celebration of honour and union for everybody, but also a dreadfully awaited day full of anger and resentment from your new spouse. You could feel it radiating off of her throughout the whole day, and the weeks prior for that matter, and the tiredness only makes her more frustrated as she walks next to you towards your now shared chambers. Her long legs and anger driven fast pace almost make it hard for you to keep up with her and for a moment the thought of telling her off crosses your mind, immediately followed by your father’s reprimanding voice, forcing you to calm down immediately. The moment the large wooden doors close behind you, the sight of the bed adorned with rich fabrics and clearly made to harbour two newly wed people makes you freeze as you can only move your eyes from to bed, to the other girl’s back on the balcony and back towards the bed. You both know what you’re expected to do and unfortunately sleeping the exhaustion away is not yet included.

In the meantime, Natasha’s blood boils even more now that all the tension she’s been holding back in favour of decency is coming back in the confinements of her, no, your private room. The thought of what she’s been forced to do only makes her feel that all too familiar anger that’s been eating her up for months now: she’s always known that she was eventually going to have to marry someone of a certain status and that the range of possible candidates was quite small, but she thought that the last word would be hers, it was promised to her! But the moment you became of age it was all clear, it was going to be you, it was always going to be you, there was never anybody else for her parents. All those times where they visited your family because of what they would say was a special friendship between them and your own parents, where she was always made to play with you, to sit next to you, to take you on walks, to talk to you, get to know you, it was all a lifelong plan to get to this very specific moment, you and her married. The fresh night air helps cool her temper as she turns around to lean against the cold stone of the balcony railing and looks at you, nervously pouring yourself a cup of deep red wine, only tasting a sip of it before repeatedly tapping the metal cup, lost in thought. She feels a lot of guilt whenever she thinks about you because, although she’s never been outwardly rude to you, it’s clear that you feel as part of her problem and that her reassurances don’t help ease your mind at all. The only people she’s deeply angry with are her parents, but seeing your sweet eyes, knowing how hopeful you’ve always been of finding a person to love for the rest of your life and that person forcibly being her, reminds her of how your lives have never truly been yours and how naive you’ve been for thinking otherwise at the empty words of reassurance coming from your parents. She knows she has to try at least, if not for her family, for you, for the respect she has for you, so she takes one last breath of fresh air to ease her nerves and walks back inside.

The smell of her favourite incense and the dim lights coming from all the candles give her a small sense of comfort as she slowly walks towards you, standing next to the table still with your wine in your hand, and pours herself her own cup, which she downs in one go.

“I was very happy to be able to catch up with Yelena, it had been a long time since I had last seen her”

At your words she looks down at you and can’t help but give you a little smile at your attempt at breaking the ice, knowing you’re not the most outgoing person

“She was very happy too, she couldn’t wait to see you”

She goes to sit on the bed as she talks, making your mind go back to that imminent moment. Seeing you nervously swallow the lump in your throat, she pats the spot next to her and intently looks at you as you set down your cup and walk towards her, taking a seat on the soft mattress: you can clearly feel the heat of her body with how close you are and secretly savour it as you both keep looking in front of you to avoid meeting your gazes. There’s a long pause where only your slightly shaky breathing and the distant sound of the celebration going on without you two can be heard, before her voice, strangely uncertain and almost a whisper, breaks the silence

“Have you ever done this before?”

You were kind of expecting it, but the question still makes your heart stop

“…kind of”

At your small voice she turns to look at you, confused by your answer

“What do you mean “kind of”?”

“I’ve done something, but not…all of it”

There’s almost guilt in your words and after reluctantly looking at her and meeting her expectant gaze, you go on

“There was someone who was always very…interested in me..”

You can feel her brain working hard and the realisation getting closer and closer until

“Wait, you don’t mean…”

You can barely give her a side look, feeling regret at your own actions from the past

“What?!”

“I know, I know!”

You really can’t look at her now, knowing her opinions on that certain Someone

“Not that asshole!”

“Yes, well, of course I didn’t listen to you and…I got used like a whore. But I’ve never been touched, if that’s what you wanted to know.”

She watches you looking down at your own fiddling hands with sympathy and sadness, knowing how genuine and even naive you can be with your selfless trust in people. Her hand on yours almost startles you and gives her the chance of taking your own in hers: you can see a small, healing cut on her knuckle and her rough palm, testimony of her constant sword training, is warm against yours, except for the two small, golden rings, which feel like ice against your own skin. The moment you take your eyes off your joined hands to look at her you find her eyes already on your face, making you look back down

“You have, right?”

“Yes, how do you know?”

You let out a small chuckle and start playing with one of her rings without even noticing, catching Natasha’s attention to the action

“You and that girl, it was quite clear, you know?”

Of course you noticed, you always did, you were almost too good at reading her considering that you didn’t see each other that often. That time, during one of her family’s visits, a girl with beautiful red hair was with her when she arrived and, although she was introduced to everybody as a normal lady in waiting, you immediately caught the glances and small touches between the two. Another moment of silence engulfs you two and you can’t keep your mind from spiraling at what’s going to happen soon. Not even Natasha’s ring is enough to keep you calm anymore, so you just let go of her hand and finally tell her what you’ve been wanting to say since you got alone. She’s still thinking about how much she surprisingly misses your hand in hers when your words startle her

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want, I know you’ve never wanted any of this and I’m sorry that you were forced into it…I know that we have to do this, but you shouldn’t if you don’t want to”

Your words make her heart swell at how thoughtful you are to her, unlike her own family, before guilt takes over her once again

“I want to do this…with you. To be honest I’m happy that you’re the one I’m stuck with”

Her playful tone makes you giggle and look at her, getting caught off guard at the small traces of happiness on her face, finally getting free of that constant frown that you’ve consistently seen on her as of late. She finally looks back at you and once your eyes meet it seems like you’re really looking at each other for the first time in a while. She’s always been known to be one of the most beautiful people of the realm, so it was never that big of a shock to look in the eyes of what could easily be a goddess amongst mortals and be taken back by all that beauty and all the small details that make her so unique with nothing but adulation. You’ve never been scared of displaying your appreciation for anyone, so seeing your look of fondness towards her doesn’t surprise her at all.

On the other hand, Natasha finds herself truly entranced by you for the first time since you’ve known each other: she’s almost surprised to notice just how beautiful you are and how all those comments made by her friend, even if quite crude most of the time, were not the nonsense she made them to be.

“You do realise that anyone would pay to be in your place, right? You whine like a baby because you have to chat with her or something, it’s not like you have to marry her. And even if you did you’d get to have a go at it with her every night”

The familiar words make her grimace at the thought of such comments being made behind your back but the faint feeling of jealousy deep in her is enough to bring her mind back to you, sitting so close to her and looking up at her with such timid adoration that in that moment she can’t keep her eyes from finally moving down on their own towards your lips, looking so inviting she doesn’t even realise she’s slowly moving closer to you until the air you exhale melts together and your lips touch each other every time you breathe

“Natasha”

Your whisper ignites something inside of her and what could be considered almost curiosity makes her move just enough so that your lips are finally fully on hers in a small kiss that makes your heart beat so fast it feels like it’s trying to escape from your chest to get to Natasha. Oh Natasha, she’s the only thing that exists in that moment, just Natasha, nothing else. As soon as you part you barely have time to look into each other’s eyes and for her to admire your panting state before she’s cupping your face and leaning in once again, making you melt into the kiss while you try to turn your body towards her. You are thankful that you’re sitting on the bed, otherwise you’re sure your knees wouldn’t have been able to keep you upright. You still reach for her shoulder for support as your lips move against each other slowly, deepening the kiss more and more until you can feel her tongue on your lower lip, asking for permission and being granted it when you lightly suck it, making her moan lowly and break the kiss to catch her breath. You can’t help but admire her and reach for her hand, still under your jaw, to hold it in your own, making her open her eyes at the gentle action. In that moment, sitting on the edge of her bed so close to each other you’re almost in her lap, breathing hard from all the nervousness finally wearing off thanks to the act of newly found intimacy between you two, you truly feel the need for each other, not something necessarily carnal, but a deep need to have the only person who could really understand what you’re going through and who could support you through all of it by your side. You don’t know how much time you spend kissing, you just know that you can feel yourself grow more and more restless at her wandering hands caressing your arms with a touch so light goosebumps grow under her fingertips.

You have no idea of what has gotten into you, maybe it’s her intoxicating smell, or the way she’s now firmly holding your waist with one hand, or her frustrated sighing every time she catches her other hand searching through the seemingly never ending fabrics of your gown for a snippet of skin, or maybe it’s just all the stress you’ve been subjected to lately, but you are sure of one thing, you need to feel her, as much of her as possible.

In a spur of bravery you get on your knees on the mattress and do your best to straddle her lap without tripping over the layers of your dress, finally succeeding and finally being able to feel more of the heat coming off of her that you've been enjoying since you've sat next to one another ot the bed. Your faces are finally at the same height and for the first time you can see her enchanting emerald eyes even better. You move some small strands of hair that have fallen on her face to briefly take a better look at her, before your lips are connected once again and your hands are tangled in her hair. You can clearly feel Natasha's hands move over your back, repeatedly shifting down to the small of your back and stopping herself from going lower, making you whine as you take her hands and move them to your ass, getting a small groan out of her at your sudden boldness. She's finally able to reach your skin, after not so little effort of going through the fabrics of your skirt, when your lips leave hers to move down to her jaw and neck, leaving shy pecks hiding the deep hunger you suddenly feel for her. The gentle touch of your mouth on the sensitive skin of her neck and your small unconscious movements over her crotch start making it hard for her to hold back to let you go at your own pace. She loses control just for a second once you feel something poking your center and ground your hips over it with a little bit more will with a small muffled moan, and she moves her hands towards your front to try to reach for your breasts but fails to do so

"Damn dress"

The frustration of once again not being able to get to your skin almost makes her growl the words, getting your attention and making you stop yourself to look at her expectantly

"Sorry, it's just always in the way"

"Well…would you help me get out if it then?"

The clear contrast from your previous slightly daring demeanour and now your usual shy tone interests her and after a nod from her you get up from her lap and stand in front of her, still sitting on the edge of the bed, looking at you turning around and asking her to loosen up the laces of your fitting dress. The pads of her fingers briefly go over the skin of your back where the fabric ends as she reaches for it, making you not so subtly shiver at the anticipation you now feel, in clear contrast with the almost fearful nervousness that dominated you once you first got alone with her. Once she's done with her task you slide your arms out of the sleeves and are finally able to feel the fabric slide down your body and stop at your hips, catching some resistance at the tight fitting and exposing your torso to the cool night air coming from the balcony. Your hair put in an intricate updo gives her a clear view of the creamy skin of your back and makes Natasha feel even more anticipation once your hands move to your hips to push the dress past them to let it slide down your body, leaving it a heap of embroided fabric on the ground. You once again feel your heart beating out of your chest at your now fully naked body exposed to Natasha and you suddenly seem to be frozen in place, not able to turn around and fully face her. Her warm hand gently touching yours startles you but the following sound of her voice immediately puts you at ease a little

"Wait, let me do something"

You immediately miss her hand once it leaves yours and soon after you hear her getting up from the bed and moving a little to do something. After a little bit she gently puts her hand on your shoulder and rubs her thumb over your skin to hopefully help soothe your nerves before speaking in the most gentle tone you've ever heard from her

"Remember that you don't have to"

She's the first person to tell you that. Since your birthday all your life has been revolving around this marriage, everything you've been made to do has been in favour of this event, most of the things your parents have said to you lately were commands on what you needed to do in order to be a good and honouring daughter. She's the first one to tell you such a thing, she's the first one to give you a choice in a situation where you've never had one, she's the first one to see you as a person in this circumstance and not as trade goods. She understands you and she understands the way you feel because she's gone through the same. You're on the same level. You suddenly turn around to look at her and for a second you almost miss the way she's completely naked too, taking you by surprise at her bare body

"This way we can both see each other"

She once again talks with that gentle and caring tone that this time makes your heart swell a little just for her. Your loving gaze is lost in her entrancing eyes when her hand slowly takes yours and moves it higher and higher, leaving it on her chest and making you feel the faint beating of her heart, soothing you for a moment, also thanks to the tiny reassuring smile she gives you. You do the same to show her your willingness to put all of yourself in this with her and take her hand and put it on your own chest. You don't say a word but you understand each other surprisingly well, making you both for once relieved of such a marriage and the chance of being one another's companion instead of some stranger. It's true, in all the years of knowing each other you've never been extremely close but you've certainly never hated one other. Sure, sometimes Natasha may have been annoyed at having to spend time with you but it was mainly because she was once again forced to do something by her parents. In all honesty, being with you always ended up helping her get over her irritation. You once again catch yourself getting lost in thought while fidgeting with her golden necklace with her family's sigil on it, but clearly catch the warmth of her hand leaving your chest to lightly caress your cheek before gently pushing under your chin to lift your gaze to her

"I need you by my side"

Her whispered words are barely audible but sound crystal clear to you

"Always"

You know that, from now on, you're the only two people who can help the other, you need to be strong for each other.

Before you know it her hands hold you on each side of your face to kiss you once again, taking your breath away at the need you both feel for the other. Her hands soon move down to your back to pull you flush against her front, getting you the closest you've ever been and making you reach for her shoulders to hold onto. The feeling of her soft skin against yours seems to never be enough and you realize you're pushing her to get impossibly closer too late, only when her back hits the mattress and you almost land on top of her

"Sorry-"

She doesn't let you finish before she's pulling you in again to keep your mouth on hers and she's grabbing your ass for the first time once you fully straddle her hips, making you whimper at the intimate act. You're both breathless, you know it, and the last thing you want is to stop kissing, but you need to take a small break and, once you part, you take the chance to sit up and unmake your updo, letting your hair fall down your back, taking out as many of the golden pieces of jewellery in it as you can and letting the smaller braids here and there done not to waste any more time. You're aware of your position and you secretly savour the way Natasha grips your thighs at the feeling of your bare center on hers. Feeling slightly confident you lean down to give her one last kiss on the lips before moving downwards, leaving small pecks on her neck, collarbone and chest, and then leaving her lap to get to her abs and lower abdomen, looking up at her after noticing her breathing quickening a little bit and catching her slightly clouded eyes looking back you. Right before being able to kneel down she offers you one of the many pillows from the bed, preventing you from being in pain from kneeling on the hard stone floor and puts another one under her head to get a better view of you between her legs.

The anticipation takes over the nervousness you feel at the sight of her semi hard cock in front of you and before you can get too anxious you reach with your hand to wrap around it, slowly pumping it a couple times and immediately getting a small, low moan from Natasha. You're not sure you've ever heard anything hotter than that and the excitement from making her feel good makes you more and more eager to please her as best as you can, so you keep moving your hand up and down until she's fully hard and a small bead of precum has formed, looking too tempting not to taste and making you reach over to give a small lick to her tip. You moan from finally being able to taste at least a little bit of her and at the same time Natasha hisses at the feeling of your tongue on her making her twitch.

You don't think you can wait anymore after getting a glimpse of her, so you get comfortable and finally fully wrap your lips around her tip, gently sucking it for a bit, if not to get yourself used to it, then to hear her groans again and again. Her hand moving towards your head excites you more than you'd like to admit and you'd lie if you denied the small disappointment you feel when it gets to your hair just to keep it out of the way with a makeshift ponytail. You realize it, you want her, all of her and she needs to know, so to try and make her understand it, feeling too embarrassed to say it to her face, you take more and more of her, doing your best to relax your throat and not gag too much around her surprisingly girthy cock. Her pants turn into loud groans once you do your best to look up at her as you slowly take all of her down your throat in one go, stopping only when your nose hits her crotch and staying like that for a couple seconds before lifting yourself off of it and sucking a deep breath while a string of spit still connects your mouth to her tip. To give your throat a small break you keep pumping her with your hand while you move downwards to lick her balls a couple times before taking one at a time in your mouth and very gently sucking them, making her curse out loud and sending a shiver through your whole body at the sound.

After a little bit you go back to her cock to take it back in your mouth, moaning at her taste and making her grip your hair tighter at the vibrations of your voice on her. You know she's close and you know you want her to take her orgasm from you herself, so you reach for her hand and make it lay flat on top of your head, before giving it a small push, hopefully making her understand what you want. She does, oh she does. After letting out a breathy chuckle at your eagerness she looks at you go back to your ministrations and guides you through it, making you take more and more of her until she's pushing you all the way down her cock and your gagging and her groans are all that can be heard in the room. She's close, so close and you know it, so you open your eyes to look back at her and meet her gaze already on you, before you reach for her balls to lightly fondle them, making her reach her orgasm in a couple more thrusts and finally feeling her cum in your mouth. You gently keep sucking her tip through her high until she's fully done and takes her cock out of your mouth

"Show me"

You don't expect her words but feel excitement when you open your mouth to show her all her cum on your tongue, and she bites her lip at the view

"Good, go on"

Her voice, still panting, and her taste as you swallow all of her cum makes your center ache like never before, even more so when you open your now empty mouth to show her that you've done it and she smirks

"Very good, you've done so well for me"

Her praise makes you smile at her and you can't keep yourself from climbing on the bed to kiss her briefly before she moves to make you lie down with your head resting comfortably on the fluffy pillows while she positions herself between your legs. Your new position gives you the perfect opportunity to fully explore her body, feeling her defined muscles under her velvety skin with every brush of your hands over her shoulders, her arms, her abs, her back, her ass, her thighs. She looks even more godly now, looming over you with her large, sculpted frame, looking quite bigger than you, and essentially trapping you between her and the bed. You don't feel trapped though, you feel safe and free, as you lie under her, with the knowledge that she's not here to take something from you, but to have an exchange, that she's accepting what you have to offer with a deep respect for you and your relationship.

The small traces of boldness you felt when you were pleasuring her disappear, as doubt takes over your mind: will you do a good enough job? Will she like your body? Will the fact that you're new to some things make her lose her excitement?

She immediately senses your uncertainty and can almost see your racing thoughts behind your eyes, getting her a little worried

"Are you alright?"

"I just…I don't know what to do now"

You can't even meet her gaze as you almost whisper the words, her constant and extremely casual confidence making it hard for you to admit your helplessness

"Let me do it then, hm?"

She waits for you to look at her and nod back before giving you a sweet smile and laying her palm on your cheek, savouring the way you subtly snuggle into its warmth, making her heart swell at how small you look right now. She leans down and kisses you gently over and over until she feels your tense body relaxing little at a time under hers and, once she feels you slacken, she finally lets her hands wander, gently gliding them over your body as if to not only lull you further, but also to imprint its curves and feel into her own mind. It's only once your breathing quickens and you kiss her more hungrily that she lets herself tentatively reach closer and closer to your chest, cupping your breasts once your hands tighten on her biceps to pull her closer.

The breathy whimper you let out once she lightly swaps her thumbs over your nipples, breaking your kiss, makes her even more excited and curious to find out what other sweet noises she can get out of you, so she moves her lips over your neck, leaving kisses here and there to find your sweet spot and indulging herself into leaving visible marks over your skin, getting spurred even more by your nails slightly scratching over her back and the subtle rocking of your hips. Moving lower and lower she finally comes face to face with your chest and feels pride at the sight of your already panting state, getting even more determined to make you feel as much as she can, so she finally wraps her lips around your right nipple, making you moan out loud and grip her hair harder than you intended. If she's able to make you feel so euphoric even with the simplest of touches, you can't even imagine how you're going to keep yourself grounded later on.

Your body feels like it's on fire and every single snippet of your skin that comes in contact with hers makes you long for her more and more.

She spends quite some time paying attention to your chest, sucking your nipples and the skin around, certainly getting it bruised and sending even more shivers through your body at the thought of being marked by her.

You're so lost in the moment that you don't feel one of her hands leaving its place on your breast to move lower, startling you when it makes contact with your very inner thigh, still wet from you previously rubbing it with the other while on your knees. She sucks your nipple on last time before kissing you while propping one of your legs over her hip and slowly gliding the pads of her fingers up your thigh, getting closer and closer to their destination and making your anticipation grow like never before. The moment her fingers get right below your hip bone she parts from you and looks you dead in the eye, searching for any sign for her to stop and when you give her a small nod she finally lets herself touch you, gently running her fingers up and down your surprisingly soaked slit, making you gasp at the contact and sending a wave of arousal through both of you.

Soon enough, after getting used to the feeling of someone else's hands on the most private part of your body, you can't help yourself from slightly rolling your hips in search of something, anything more, so she finally moves her ministrations directly over your clit, rubbing it slowly in circular motions and making you moan more loudly than you expected. You get even more excited at the feeling of her cock twitching on your thigh every time you moan for her, so you take one hand out of her hair and move it down to grab and pump her, making her hiss at the feeling of your hand back on her, while she keeps touching your clit and occasionally lower, closer to your entrance. You immediately miss her once her fingers leave your center as she gets them closer to your mouth

"Taste yourself"

The rasp behind her voice almost makes you miss her actual words at how hot it sounds, but you're still barely able to make out their meaning, so you grab her hand and suck on her wet fingers, moaning at the taste of your own arousal on your tongue and the feeling of her fingers in your mouth. Once you've sucked them clean and gotten them wet, she takes them out of your mouth and moves them back to your clit, rubbing it one last time before gently probing at your entrance and slowly pushing a finger inside, looking for any sign of discomfort from you before adding another one at the sight of none. You can barely whine as you bite your lip to prevent yourself from moaning too loudly, feeling embarrassed at how your cunt tries to suck her fingers in by tightening around them over and over. Once she's knuckle deep inside of you, you let out a deep breath at the faint pulsing of your clit against the palm of her hand, and look at her with watery eyes at the pleasure you feel even from her fingers staying still inside of you, giving away your extreme arousal when you tighten around her from a small kiss on your lips

"Can I move?"

She whispers her words but you can clearly understand her and quickly nod with big pleading eyes

"Please!"

She can't help but groan at your enthusiasm and barely moves her fingers in and out of you, focusing more on massaging your front wall little by little, getting you used to the sensation and making herself even more frustrated each time she feels your walls spasm around her fingers instead of her cock. She's been extremely patient since you've first gotten on your knees for her and the need to take you and feel you has been eating her up more and more, but the last thing she wants is to make you feel pressured by her, the last person you should feel unsafe with, so she does her best to keep herself grounded and fully focuses on you.

She gradually keeps increasing the pressure of the pad of her fingers on the spongy spot inside of you she easily found, making you embarrassed by the lewd, wet noises that come from your center with each stroke of her fingers and only getting you out of your own head with a particularly hard thrust that gets you freely moaning and tightly gripping the sheets under you. The muscles of her arm get even more defined from the task at hand and her breathing starts shaking from your wet walls engulfing her digits so tightly and the look of ecstasy on your features as she essentially takes your breath away. You're so close, so close to finally cumming undone for her for the first time, so close to the sweetest release

"Natasha! I'm-"

You can barely call her name before your orgasm crushes over you like a tidal wave at full force and runs through your whole body. She can't keep herself from basically growling at just how tight your walls regularly spasm around her fingers and the sight of small droplets of clear liquid coming out of you with every thrust, wetting her wrist and creating a small patch on the sheets under you. It takes you a bit to get down from your orgasm and once it stops, you can't help but sob from how intense it was, slightly shaking from time to time from the aftershocks

"Are you alright? Was it too much?"

There's genuine worry in her voice and eyes and you feel the need to kiss her, hopefully freeing her of her concerns as well

"It was perfect, Natasha"

You barely get to mumble the words against her lips before you need to kiss her again and again until your heart doesn't feel like it's beating out of your chest anymore. She uses your moment of blissed distraction to take her fingers out of you, trying not to cause too much discomfort and breaks the kiss to suck her fingers clean, lowly moaning at your taste on her tongue for the first time.

The sight makes the desire you've been feeling, that's never truly left you yet, come back at full force, startling you at how easily she's able to cause such waves of arousal to run through you.

You can't wait anymore, you need to feel more of her inside of you so bad you might just cry if you can't have her immediately and, based on her hungry eyes and fully erect cock, she might be feeling just the same

"I need you inside of me Natasha"

If your mind wasn't clouded by such want you'd feel embarrassed by your own words and the extreme neediness in your voice, but you simply can't bring yourself to care about it right now and whine at the loss of her body's warmth once she leans back on her knees. You're at a loss for words once you give yourselves time to truly look at each other's naked bodies for the first time and not even the way she grabs your waist to gently slide you down the bed a little bit before putting a pillow under your ass is enough to get you distracted from the perfect sight in front of you. You're finally pulled out of your trance once she makes your thighs rest on top of hers and gets you to automatically wrap your legs behind her back, giving her easy access to your center. Her cock sitting heavy on top of your mound makes you just a little anxious at how big it looks near you, but, sensing your doubt, she immediately takes one of your hands and kisses its back as to hopefully soothe you

"We're going at your pace"

Her words do help you a little but you still feel incredibly nervous, so much so that it seems like you suddenly get aware of every single thing near or on you, the cold golden earrings near your jaw, the soft fabric against your back, the slightest breeze of cooler air over your arm-

"You don't have to…not tonight if you don't want"

Her words, accompanied with a soft rub over your knee finally get your mind back to the moment and remind you, once again, that you can trust her and she won't judge you for anything

"I want it! I want it…"

You reach for her thigh to lightly squeeze it as to further reassure her and, once she gives you a brief nod, you smile at her and very slightly move your hips back and forth to feel her cock slide over your clit, signaling to her that you're more than ready. Natasha feels anticipation like never before once she grabs her own cock and moves her hips back a little to line it up with your entrance, making you tighten around nothing at the lewd sight of her spitting on it to get it all wet before grabbing your hips and slowly pushing in the head.

Your mouth opens in shock at the surprisingly not painful yet still almost extreme stretch and your eyes are pulled away from the sight of your centers getting closer to each other the more she pushes inside, at the sound of her voice as she curses under her breath. Your walls feel even tighter than they did around her fingers and it's really hard for her to keep herself from taking you immediately, but of course your comfort is her first priority at the moment, so, once she's fully inside of you, she stops for a bit, waiting for you to feel comfortable enough for her to move. On the other hand, the pleasure she makes you feel already starts clouding your mind and at the feeling of her staying still, completely inside of you, you can't help but let your head fall back on the mattress and let out a loud whine before looking up at her with pleading eyes

"Please Natasha! I'm ready, I promise! Please!"

That's it, there's no going back now.

She squeezes your hips quite hard as she slowly pulls out to the tip, pushing back inside a bit more quickly and going like this over and over, making you moan a bit more each time, until she sets a steady pace, getting lost in the feeling of your walls wrapped around her. You barely realize it when you're suddenly moving one of your legs to prop it on her shoulder, making her reach different spots than before, sending shock waves through your body and making you squeeze her tighter. Intent on making you feel even better, she almost immediately takes your other leg from her hip and puts it over her other shoulder, ripping a loud moan out of you from the feeling of her cock now reaching your sweet spot more easily with each thrust. The sight of your hands going from gripping the bed sheets to playing with your own nipples makes her throb inside of you and, needing to go even deeper into you, even if impossible, she lets go of your hips and puts her hands on each side of your head, getting as much leverage as she can, while still keeping your legs against her shoulders, to set a new pace, slower but with much harder thrusts, essentially knocking your breath away at the force with which her hips meet yours

"You're so beautiful"

Unfortunately you can barely register her words and find it impossible to form a single word, but try to find her wrist next to your face to give it a squeeze and hopefully make her understand if not that you think the same, at least that you appreciate her telling you that.

You know that in a short time it'll be almost impossible for you to keep yourself from tumbling into another breathtaking orgasm and you try your best to tell her, even though you know she's probably already aware of it by the way your cunt keeps squeezing her more and more

"I'm! I'm going to-"

She was waiting for you to say it yourself and hearing your straining voice trying to get the words out gets her close as well and, before she knows it, she's leaning down on her forearms, basically trapping you under her and reaching impossibly deeper inside of you

"Fuck Natasha!"

You didn't think her thrusts could get any harder, but you were wrong, her rough movements and panting groans right next to your ear are too much for you and get you to an orgasm even harder than the one before in only a couple of seconds. She tries her best to keep herself from cumming to keep thrusting into you and help you through your high, but your desperate moans, your nails raking over her back and your cunt squeezing her impossibly tight make it impossible for her to keep her orgasm from crushing over her. Her clear groans, the feeling of her cum deep inside of you and her, already balls deep, trying in vain to thrust even more into you, send an almost painful pang of arousal deep in you, pulling the last bit of energy out of you and leaving you limp under her large body.

Once her breathing has gone back to somewhat normal she finally lifts herself from her spot and comes face to face with you and only then, after you slightly hiss at her movement, she remembers that she's still inside of you

"Sorry"

There's a light sheen of sweat over her whole body, her mane of hair is tousled and her eyebrows are furrowed as she leans back to slowly pull out, trying not to make you feel too much pain also by gently running her hand up and down your side, making your heart swell at the sweetness behind her action. For a brief moment she looks slightly entranced by the sight of her cum slowly sliding out of you but soon moves away to let herself fall on her back next to you quite ungracefully, making you chuckle at her very non-regal manner. A comfortable silence falls between you two as you savour this moment of serenity and only now you notice how some of the many candles have died out, making the room feel even cozier.

Your droopy eyelids keep closing on their own accord, as exhaustion slowly starts taking over the both of you, but, right before you can drift off completely, her hand reaches over to hold yours one last time and her tired voice breaks the serene silence

"I'm very happy you're the one by my side"

.

.

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Tags: @fxckmiup @natashasilverfox

[thatanimeramenchick]

Yandere Vox x Secretary Reader Pt. 2

Eh, what have you guys done to me. I swear, we Vox fangirls are the thirstiest on the internet right now. Also, officially, I’m making this a three part series, but that’s it. So much for a oneshot. I'll make a title for this series, eventually. Also, if you want to be tagged, please put your age in your bio.

Part One - Part Three

Triggers: Dubcon-y vibes in scenes. Violence and threatening. Read responsibly, stuff is gonna get a little dark this chapter.

Word count: 3,142

---

Vox thought you looked perfect. For once, you were wearing something decent that he bought you instead of one of the plain outfits from before you had moved in. Somehow, you had been convinced to put on actual jewelry and makeup as well. The only flaw you held was the dirty look on your face, which you refused to face towards him directly, and it only got dirtier as you downed more and more wine.

“You know, you could at least attempt to have a good time after all the effort I put into this evening,” he said, “You haven’t even touched your food.”

“Not hungry,” you said, voice ice cold. It always was nowadays.

“If you’re not in the mood for dinner, we could watch a new production I oversaw,” he said, “I think you’d enjoy it.”

You snort at that.

“I’d rather listen to Alastor’s radio program than watch any of the hot trash your production company creates,” you said.

“I’m sorry? What was that?” he said, putting a warning hint into his tone.

“You heard me,” you said, “I’ve gotta say for someone supposedly so modern, you’re still just an old man. Alastor is what? Like twenty years older than you? And you think he’s elderly? You’re practically a decrepit bygone as well. You think anyone gives a shit about cable nowadays? At least Alastor has the decency to make stuff with class and not just forgettable, cheap cash grabs.”

Against his will, he felt a circuit spurt. His hand clenched around the glass and slammed it onto the table, causing you to jump. A small noise left your mouth, as panicked as the look in your eyes was now. You looked like you knew that you had pushed a little more than you probably should have.

“You know what?” he hissed, “You think you can just talk to me like that? Fine. You wanna play rough with me? Well guess what, I’m going to fuck that bad attitude right out of you!”

“Excuse me???”

You didn’t even look scared at that just shocked and baffled, as if that had been the last thing you had expected to hear.

“You heard me!” he grabbed you by your shoulders and shoved you flat onto the couch, “I’m sick of you fighting me. Well, you’re not going to after this.”

“W-wait, Vox, stop-”

He smashed his lips to yours, purposefully being harsh, biting you when you tried to keep your mouth closed. When you attempted to turn your face away, he grabbed your chin rough enough where he knew it would leave a mark before kissing you harder. You pounded your fist against his chest, but he ignored it, straddling you. He eventually used his other hand to grab your wrist and push it into the couch.

He didn’t know when it happened, but at some point in your struggle something shifted in the air. Changed. You had finally stopped fighting, slowly wrapping your arm around his neck, kissing him back. It was heavenly, you finally submitting to him. Yes, yes, yes… He paused to look you in the eyes, to see your timid gaze and red face. There was still a look of anger glazed across your features, but it was fading. He brought his hand up to play at the buttons on your blouse. You looked at each other for a second longer before you initiated a kiss for once, using the arm around his neck to pull him close. Your tongue felt so hot, so right, as if your body was as electric as his own and-

Vox gasped, a spark running through his head. He woke up alone in bed, a literal hot mess. He felt like his head was overheating, running a million miles a minute, despite the fact that he should feel cold from sleep. Mixing this with the slick sweat and fluid he was covered in, it was an uncomfortable feeling. Groping for the robe hanging next to his bed, he climbed out. What a dream. He needed a second to wire down from that before trying to go back to sleep.

He picked up his phone and opened it to check on you. The camera in your room showed you curled up on your mattress, blanket half off your body and arms wrapped around one of your pillows. It pressed into your dozing face, which held a peaceful, relaxed look that he rarely saw now that you had decided to go to war with him. His finger absently stroked your image on the screen.

Why did you have to be so difficult? He didn’t know what had been the powder keg that had kicked off your little rebellion, but whatever it was, all his attempts to nip it in the bud had made you more temperamental. Clearly his irritation with your behavior had seeped into his mind enough to create some… darker fantasies deep in his sleeping subconscious.

He shook his head. It was just a dream. It didn’t mean anything.

Besides, he already had been thinking about what to do next, to give you that little push you needed to be more agreeable.

---

Later that day he scoffed at how ridiculous his own morbid imagination was. The idea of you dressed all pimped up like one of Valentino’s whores. You barely got out of bed nowadays. If he was being honest, your imprisonment had caused your mood to swing between defiant temper tantrums and a hopelessly depressed sloth. Today, you were in the latter mood, still in pajamas that he swore you were wearing two days ago, lying on the couch and mindlessly eating as you watched some random reality show.

“Hello there, beautiful,” he said, trying to sound pleasant, “Looks like you’ve had a relaxing day.”

You glance at him for a second before looking back at the television. The blanket is pulled tighter around you, as if you were trying to hide any inch of yourself from him. Ever since his last attempt at showing his affection had ended in you headbutting him – hard – you had been particularly prickly at even the slightest hint that he might want to touch you.

“What do you want, asshole?” you said, voice lacking emotion.

Charming as always.

“Well, dearest, I was thinking. Now that you’ve had some time to think things over, I was hoping we could finally come to an agreement that would make us both happy,” he said.

“I highly doubt that’s possible,” you said.

He sat beside you, which caused you to curl your legs in tighter. You inch up on the arm a little, as if to sit as far away from him as possible without having to actually put any effort into getting up.

“We both have something that the other person wants, something that could be easily settled with a written contract,” Vox said, “You would like to be allowed to roam around this cesspool of a city and I-”

“Let me guess, it includes a whole paragraph about me never leaving your sight as well as a clause about how often you get to stick yourself in my various orifices?” you grumbled.

“You’re so melodramatic sometimes,” he said, “You always assuming the worst about people, F/N. Makes me wonder if you were double crossed a lot in your previous life.”

You don’t even respond to this, just continue to stare ahead. He’d noticed that lately you’ve been avoiding his gaze. He wasn’t sure how much you had figured out about his abilities, but you seemed to have pieced enough together that the more you avoided his eyes, the less direct influence he had on you at the moment. He was sure that it was one of the many reasons you were so moody lately; you stubbornly refused to be soothed by him. Regardless, whether you were trying to avoid his hypnotic gaze or not, it’s no matter. It’s not like you’re going to be able to avoid the overall influence he has over this city, especially if you spend your free time watching television he’s created.

“It’s rather tame, considering the situation you’re in. Contract or not, it’s not like you’re going to be going anywhere anytime soon,” he continued, “You’re lucky I care for you as much as I do, trying to work with you like this.”

“Hooray for me,” you said.

You really were a brat sometimes. Vox at times wondered if it was because he was too soft on you, and you didn’t realize the amount of actual power he held over you. Either that or you just didn’t care anymore. Whatever. It was all big talk because at the end of the day, you both knew you couldn’t do anything about your situation.

“You already have lots of benefits, which you would retain. Nice apartment, clothes, up to date tech. Besides that, you can come and go regularly, as long as you’re back here within twenty-four from when you last left. You can do whatever you want during that time. You also would be working for me a minimum of forty hours a week, with the occasional granted vacation at my discretion. That’s pretty much it, along with you occasionally being cooperative with my… desires,” he said, “So you’d have plenty of time to yourself. I didn’t put in anything that would force you to do anything too unsavory with me.”

Though he certainly would have liked to be more pushy in that department, he knew going too far could result in the kind of hate fueled relationship Valentino and Angel Dust shared. He honestly didn’t have the energy to have that much drama in his own life. Good night, he could hardly handle the drama that was in his life now. Besides, he was sure you’d come around willingly, even if it took a few centuries.

You glared at him as he finished speaking, as if to say, how generous of you.

From inside his vest, he pulls out the contract and holds it out to you.

“So, we have a deal?” he asked.

You sit up and take the paper, still avoiding his eyes. You seem to be reading it over, though your hold on it is lazy.

“… This still says you can fuck me at least once a week if you want to, or else I’m not allowed to leave the building,” you said, “Did you really think I wasn’t going to notice shit like that?”

He laughed a bit awkwardly.

“I mean, I did say I would like you to be at least a little cooperative,” he said, crossing his legs, “We could wait a little while if you’d like. I mean, you’d still have more freedom than you do now, even with that minuscule restriction. You should know by now that I’m a patient man.”

You stare at it again, forehead wrinkled.

“You know what… I see where you’re coming from,” you said, finally making eye contact, “Tic for tac, eh?”

“That’s a crude way for you to put it,” he said.

You shrug.

“Crude or not, it’s the truth,” you said, a sardonic smirk appearing on your face, “You want me to give a little to get a little.”

Before he could say anything you hold up your hands with more energy than he’s seen you have in days.

“No, no, no! I understand. I’ve been in hell long enough to know how people like you work. I get where you’re coming from, I really do. I’m not stupid! So trust me, I’m being completely serious when I say that I think you should take this lovely contract of yours and shove it up your glowing blue ass!” you ripped it in half on the last word, your smile still present but a nasty look in your eyes.

Vox felt his eye twitch as you continued to smirk at him, tossing the paper at him like you would throw trash across the room. You then lie back down and turn back to the TV, ignoring him again as if the last few minutes hadn’t even happened at all. Though you were attempting to pull your face back into the blank expression of earlier, he could see in your eyes a mixture of emotion, rage, yes, but also a certain smugness. What, did you really think you were tough shit for mouthing off to him like that?

He felt like his head was going to explode. Before he even registered how he was reacting, he had grabbed you by the hair and was pulled you back over.

“Ow! What the hell are you doing, Vox?” you yelled, the smug look gone from your eyes, “You’re hurting me!”

“You think you’re so smart, don’t you? I’m trying to be generous to you because I actually like you, but you know what? I’ve clearly spoiled you rotten already!” he fumed.

He was practically seeing red as he dragged you over, causing you to yelp. You try to kick him, but he only grabs onto your ankle and pulls you closer to him, spinning you around so that you were pressed against the back of the couch, his arms on either side of you. His fingers are still gripping your hair, forcing you to turn your head towards him.

“You know, you’re right, who needs a contract?” he said, “I can do whatever the hell I want with you, and what are you going to do about it?”

Your voice cracked as you attempted to speak, but he didn’t pay any attention to what you were trying to say. He could feel his systems overloading with the amount of rage he was feeling, shouting over you.

“I hope you like the view from up here, because you’re staying here for the rest of your miserable eternal exist. You can work and live here 24/7,” he said, “Anything else we should change in the arrangement? You didn’t like the idea of fucking me once a week? Fine by me. Why not once a day? Twice a day? Every hour? Would you like that better? Huh? Answer me!”

As he finished speaking, he finally heard what you were saying, “-m sorry! I’m sorry, please, stop!

As he heard your pleading, he felt himself being brought back down to earth. While his rage was still present, your begging brought him back to reality, and it was finally registering how upset you were. Hysterical. Terrified. You were sobbing, more afraid of him than he had ever seen you, even on the worst days of your fighting.

“D-d-don’t hurt me. I’m s-sorry, I’m sorry! Please, don’t hurt me!”

He released your hair with a rapid exhale, and you automatically moved your head away from him, arms shielding your face. Shaking, it was sinking in just emotionally distraught you were, as well as the damage he had done to the couch. He hadn’t even noticed he had been digging his claws into the polyester, a row of gnashes beside your head. The situation was completely getting out of control. He pushed himself off of you and turned away. He didn’t even say anything, just left the room and went through the wires to his office. His head was overheating, and he was going to crash at this rate if he didn’t calm down.

Damn it! He hated how out of control you made him feel. It was pathetic. There was only one other person he could think of that made him get near as frustrated as he was feeling with you at the moment. He wasn’t the kind to act out, and here he was acting almost as ridiculous as his business partner did. The only saving grace was that Vox at least tried to keep his infatuation as quiet and private as possible.

It was more than his emotional irregularity though. The fact that he felt this way at all about you was humiliating. Affection, fondness, it was a weakness, and he knew it. Valentino got away with just having simple lust and taking what he wanted, but genuine affection demanded gentleness and tenderness. It was beyond him just not being able to do as he pleased with you, he didn’t want to. He wanted you to come to him willingly. It was the thing holding him back from just hypnotizing you into his arms or using a “love” potion, and now he had probably set any progress towards your affection back significantly.

He rubbed his forehead, which was starting to cool down a little. What was going on up there? He was going to end up doing something rash, something he regretted, if he didn’t get things under control and under control fast. Something needed to be done, but he didn’t know what. Nothing had gone how he had wanted it to. He would need to rethink his approach.

---

You spent a long time shaking on the couch, arms and blanket wrapped around you, crying. You were an idiot. Clearly your brain was turning to mush just sitting around the house all day. Did you actually think you’d be able to get away with speaking like that to an Overlord of Hell?

There had to be a way out of this place. Had to. But the more you thought about it, the more impossible it felt. Even if you did manage to get out of the building in one piece, Vox had this entire city under constant watch. Every corner of Pentagram City was crawling with his tech and media. It would take minutes if not seconds for him to find you and bring you back by force. At this point, maybe you should just sign a contract with the douchebag. Surely, he’d get bored of you eventually, right? Maybe if you got lucky he’d even get killed off one of these days in an extermination, and you’d be off the hook completely.

But how long would that take? Decades? A century or two? What if he never tired of you? Eternal death or not, you didn’t want to spend that much time living and sleeping with some psycho you hated. No. That wasn’t an option. You weren’t going to do that. But what then? You had thought he was going to literally rip your head off just a few minutes ago for telling him no. You were pretty sure things weren’t going to get less volatile around here if you kept rejecting him.

You wiped at your tear soaked face with a tissue and tossed it across the room. It’s light material just sent it floating to the ground though. It looked as pathetic as you felt.

“Damn it,” you cursed, smashing your head into a throw pillow and lying back down, “I hate this fucking place.”

[mysecretlittlelibrary]

So Much To Learn

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: a lot, again; Sub!Spencer and kinda mean dom reader, oral (f receiving), age gap (reader is 21), hand job/teasing, honorifics & pet names, marking a lot, p in v sex, they both talking diiiiirty, minor praise, risky sex, multiple orgasms, edging, squirting- I think I got everything??

Genre: Smut kinda fluff and like minor minor angst if you squint

Summary: You don't react well when you realize someone else is giving your professor boyfriend entirely too much of their attention

A/N: technically this is a continuation of So Much To Teach but order is arbitrary lol

Part 1< >Part 3

***

The weeks after Spencer's confession in his office are- fun to say the least. Meeting in secret, teasing him in class, it's all very exciting. With finals just around the corner now though, you're not sure what it means for the two of you. Will he be interested in establishing anything solid with you once you're out of his class? Will things continue as they are? Will he toss you aside only to replace you with another student from another class next semester? The last possibility bothers you more than you'd like to admit. You'll have to find a good time to bring it up to him soon. Between preparing for final exams or papers and Spencer's near insatiable appetite for time with you there's never a moment you want to risk ruining with what will no doubt be an awkward conversation.

There's a slight knock on the door at the back of the classroom that interrupts Spencer's lecture and your wandering mind. Everyone turns to see another professor walk into the room.

"Oh shoot. I'm so sorry Spence I- I thought your class would be over by now." Professor Greene says. She has the decency to look remorseful although you've noticed her sniffing around Spencer for a little while now so you roll your eyes to yourself.

"Oh don't worry about it Professor Greene we're just wrapping up, come on in." Spencer says kindly. "Alright guys reminder, your finals are online and are due at the end of finals week- that's Friday in two weeks' time. We're not meeting on Thursday but next Tuesday for our final meeting time together I'll be having a review session. It's not mandatory but I'll be here during our class time to answer any last minute study questions you may have. I hope to see you next week but if not good luck on all your finals, if you're graduating congratulations, enjoy your holidays, and have a good day!" Spencer dismisses the class. Usually, you'd linger to drop by his office after class but with Professor Greene about to commandeer his attention, you're not sure if you should. Still, you take your time packing up your things while listening in on their conversation.

"I really am so sorry I interrupted your lecture, Spence. I just wanted to ask about the staff meeting I missed the other day." Professor Greene says.

"Oh don't worry about it, Professor Greene but I can email you my notes from the meeting real quick." Spencer says walking over to his computer.

"I've told you a thousand times Spencer call me Ellie." She says patting his shoulder. Spencer mutters something you can barely hear as you exit the classroom. You don't catch the way his eyes trail after you for a moment before he focuses back on sending this email.

"Y/n!" Matt calls pretty much as soon as you make it out of the classroom.

"Oh, hey Lewis. What's up?"

"Was wondering if you were free to meet up sometime to do some studying for the final? Ya know that way we can help each other with things that are confusing and anything we can't figure out together- we can bring up next week during the review session."

"Ya know what that's a great idea Matt. Why don't we do Thursday- since we don't have class we can just hit the library during that time." You suggest.

"Perfect. I'll meet you at the library on Thursday then." Matt smiles, rushing ahead to catch up with some friends. You make your way to Spencer's office like you do after every class although usually you walk together. Today you sit on the bench that's a few feet from his office and wait for him while reading a book.

"Sweetheart. I was wondering where you ran off to." Spencer says when he reaches his office.

"Didn't want to interrupt. She likes you, you know."

"What?" He frowns over his shoulder at you as he unlocks his office door.

"Professor Greene. She was totally flirting with you when she came in during class." You stand up and follow him into his office.

"Was she?" He hums.

"You're telling me you didn't notice?" You scoff.

"Do you want me to notice other women flirting with me?"

"I don't care, Spencer, you're not my boyfriend-"

"Hey, that's not fair." He frowns. You know it's not, Spencer told you early on the only thing stopping him from labeling your relationship was because of how risky it is to date your professor, but you're apparently facing jealousy and it's making you mean.

"I was only saying she's being really obvious. Whether you're interested or not though, is your business. I have some studying to do so I can't stick around today but I didn't want to disappear without letting you know." You say dismissively.

"Y/n," Spencer says softly.

"I'll see you next week." You tell him, turning on your heel. You need to get your feelings under control and quickly.

"I'm not interested in her. You have to know you're the only one on my mind." Spencer says before you make it out the door. You're not even sure what to say back, so you leave without a word.

You've never considered yourself a jealous or insecure person but for some reason, Professor Greene really gets under your skin when it comes to Spencer. Maybe it's because you know it would be easier for him to date her, she's close to his age and there's no taboo surrounding that pairing. That doesn't make feeling this way any less annoying. I mean- you've been ignoring her attempts at making advances at him for the past couple of months but you think the stress of exams and final papers is exacerbating a feeling you normally wouldn't even notice. Honestly, you have entirely too much else going on to be wasting time focused on staking your claim over a man that's only yours in locked offices, empty halls, and dark rooms. You don't fight over men, if Professor Greene can 'take him from you' she can absolutely have him.

By Thursday when you meet up with Matt, you've managed to knock those ugly thoughts of Spencer and Professor Greene to the back of your head, drowning yourself in studying and paper writing. You have no problems in Spencer's class, even before you were fucking him you had an A average so his final is the least of your worries but you know a review can't hurt. You spend way longer than the length of a class studying with Matt, he's a good student which appears to come with great effort on his part. He goes over things in such depth you're actually a little impressed and for a moment there you wonder what it would be like to pick the easy lover. Matt's kind, and attractive, and it would be much less complicated, no sneaking around- well maybe a bit but it would be for fun, not out of necessity. He'd walk you to class holding your hand, and kiss you on the quad, you'd probably adopt his whole friend group, they're athletes whose girlfriends always seem to be adored by all of them. It would be nice, it would be sweet. If things with Spencer do end at the end of the term you'll seriously consider falling for Matt. The version of reality where you end up with him sounds good. If only you'd realized it before Spencer caught your eye so severely. Would things be different? Would you be holding Matt's hand across the table right now? Sitting next to each other in class? Having him over to study late into the night until you'd have him just stay over because you don't want him to leave so late? It seems silly to spend so much time dwelling on a world that you gave up months ago. You blame it on the stress of the end of a semester.

When Tuesday rolls around you go to the review session knowing you don't actually have any questions but maybe someone will ask one you didn't think of that will come in handy. There are not that many people here for the review, some kids from other sections for sure, but still only maybe 20 of you in total. Spencer tries a number of times to catch your attention while he answers questions to gauge how you're feeling but you don't give anything away on your face. That is until Professor Greene walks in about halfway through the review session.

"Hi Spence! Sorry to interrupt, I know you're reviewing for finals and stuff but I ordered a sandwich for lunch and they gave me 2? I just thought I'd offer you one." She smiles as she scurries to the front of the room. Spencer catches the wry smile that just barely cracks your poker face for a moment and he's almost nervous to address Professor Greene.

"Oh- I appreciate it Professor Greene but I brought lunch, I always do. Perhaps Mike would like it if he's on campus? I know he usually buys food at the student center for lunch." He offers. Graceful rejection. Hopefully enough to keep you happy and put off his coworker at the same time. You make a point to not react outwardly but you do notice his choice to call her Professor Greene while calling another professor in the building Mike despite her giggling request last week to call her by her first name.

"Mike?" She blinks at him.

"Yeah he's- probably doing some grading in his office upstairs." Spencer smiles. "Anyone have any other questions for me?" He turns his attention back to the small group of students who mostly seem ready to leave after watching the exchange.

"The exam is a combination of multiple choice and short answer right?" A woman asks.

"Correct, just like your exams in class." He nods. "It- seems like we've covered all your questions guys so, I think it's okay for us to wrap this up a bit early yes?" Spencer asks. Professor Greene is still in the room but Spencer avoids her gaze diligently as the class murmurs affirmatives.

"Spence before you head off can I speak to you for a moment?" Professor Greene asks quietly while the rest of the room is busy packing up their things.

"Of course." He answers reluctantly. "Miss y/n, don't go far I have an assignment of yours I'd like to discuss in my office." Spencer tells you before you can even stand up.

"Sure prof." You drawl resisting the urge to roll your eyes.

"Look Spencer the sandwich was- a decoy. I mean they did give me an extra that I wanted to offer you but it was really an excuse to ask you something else." Professor Greene's tone is hushed as you and a few others are still milling about the room.

"Oh- well what is it?" Spencer asks though his gaze shifts to you every so often. You who sits so seemingly unbothered waiting for him, chewing gum, tapping away on your phone, not even looking their way although your ears are definitely paying attention.

"I'm having a little faculty get-together and I wanted to invite you personally."

"What, like going out for drinks?"

"Yeah exactly! Will you be there?"

"Uh- email me the details and I'll let you know."

"Awesome! I really hope to see you there Spence." She places her hand on his arm and he quickly walks over to his satchel to escape the touch.

"I'll- see what I can do." He mutters. "Is that all? I don't want to keep y/n waiting all afternoon."

"Y/n?" She frowns.

"My student? The only person in the room. Who I asked to wait up when I dismissed everyone?" Spencer frowns at her.

"Right! I guess I forgot. One track mind sometimes." She waves off with a giggle. How unnecessarily dismissive.

"Y/n. My office. Ready to go?" He turns his attention to you without even addressing her comment.

"Whenever you're done." You shrug.

"That would be now."

"Alright. Let's go." You stand up and exit the class before him.

"I'll see you at the gathering Spencer." Professor Greene says as he follows you out. You don't say anything as you walk down the halls with Spencer trailing behind. He thinks he handled that well but he can't tell. It's like you're being hard to read on purpose. He unlocks his office door and lets you inside before him, shutting it behind him.

"Look I-"

"I think you should go." You tell him first.

"What?"

"To her little get together. I think you should go." You shrug.

"You do?" He frowns which deepens when you nod. "Why?" He asks.

"It's good for you to socialize with your coworkers." You offer noncommittally.

"You're in a better mood about her today than you were last week." He says carefully.

"Is the door locked?" You ask him.

"What?"

"To your office. Did you lock the door?"

"Oh- yes. I always lock-"

"Yes is sufficient." You say sitting in his office chair.

"Sweetheart, talk to me, what's-" He stops when you hold up one of your hands.

"Spencer, drop to your knees." You say.

"What?" He blinks at you.

"It's a very simple instruction, I would expect a man with as many degrees as you hold would be able to understand a 4-word command."

"I understood it fine I just-"

"Then why are you still standing? If you understood it Spencer do it. I want you on your knees. Now." You cross your arms. Spencer slowly, unsurely, lowers himself to his knees, still by the door to his office. "That's better. Come over to me. And just so we're clear you'll have to crawl." Spencer bends and shuffles over to you on his hands and knees, gaze pointed at the carpet in his office. You've discussed the possibility of him giving up control a number of times but this is not how he expected today to go. When he's by your side you lift his chin up to force his eyes to yours. "Finals week starts in two days Spence, I've got three papers and two exams to think about. I don't have time to worry about if you're going to behave or not." You tell him.

"I-"

"Choose your next words very carefully baby they might just ruin your day." You warn him.

"I would never misbehave darling. My loyalties are to you." He says softly.

"Are you willing to prove that?" You ask.

"However you ask me to." He says immediately.

"I like that answer." You hum. You tug your dress over your head and drop it on his desk. "You can start by removing my panties with your teeth." You tell him. "Just your teeth. I want your hands behind your back." You add. Spencer shuffles forward and tugs at your underwear with his teeth. You move only when absolutely necessary to help but he gets them off after a few moments and holds them between his lips, looking at you for further instructions. "Good boy professor." You pull them from his mouth and drop them on the desk beside your dress. "You'll need your mouth free for this next bit." You say threading your fingers into his hair. "Your loyalties are with me you said?"

"Of course princess." Spencer's reply is breathy.

"Hm- no, not princess. Today you can call me mistress or your queen. I'll let you choose but only between those two. Anything else will get you in trouble and- today is not the day to get in trouble."

"O-okay, My Queen."

"Good. And as for proving your loyalties, you can begin with your head between my thighs, let's see how loyal you are." You spread your legs and tug at his hair still in your hand hard enough to shove his face directly into your center. Spencer is quick to react, his tongue laps up your juices as eagerly as you'd expect. He will regularly spend ages between your legs when he can just because he enjoys tasting you so much. Your back arches as he thrusts his tongue into your pussy feverishly. "Yeah, oh fuck, keep going. Show me- show me your devotion." You moan out as you grind against his mouth. Spencer groans into you as you pull at his hair. His tongue curls inside you just barely brushing against that spongy patch and you have to bite your lip to keep from squealing when he does. Spencer's nose nudges at your clit as he focuses his tongue on your inner walls until your legs stiffen around his ears. When that happens he drags his tongue up to your clit and focuses his attention there, wrapping his lips around the bundle of nerves and sucking on it while his tongue lashes it with figure 8s. You almost scream when your orgasm crashes into you, fingers tightening in his hair and your back coming off the chair as you ride the waves of your release. "Don't- don't stop Spence. Fuck- keep sucking my clit." You pant out. Your eyes squeeze shut at the almost painful stimulation, but you want a second orgasm from him before you let him up for air and you plan to get it. You swallow your whines from those first few moments of post-orgasmic overstimulation and force Spencer further into your heat, practically smooshing his face against you. Your moan when overstimulation gives way to pure pleasure again is enough to have Spencer clenching his fists as more blood rushes to his already painfully hard dick. It fills him with a new level of determination as he sharpens the movements of his tongue against you. Your second orgasm builds quickly, and within a few minutes, you're shaking again, this orgasm covering Spencer's face and even squirting onto his shirt. You pull his hair harshly enough to move him away from you as you take a few deep breaths. Spencer sits panting, covered in your juices, pupils blown so wide there's no trace of his hazel-colored irises. "Look at what a mess you are." You hum. "You look pretty like this."

"Thank you- mistress." His voice is hoarse.

"Strip and sit on the couch. You can walk this time." You tell him. He stands, though a little unsteadily, and walks over to the loveseat, taking off his shirt and then his pants before sitting down with his gaze trained on you. You take your time standing from his chair and walking over to him, detouring to grab your jacket that you'd tossed over your backpack upon entry. You won't put the dress back on for now, having totally soaked your lover you have no interest in walking out of here in a damp dress, but your leather jacket will be fine. Spencer watches you with rapt attention as you finally approach him, his dick is an angry looking red flopped against his stomach and his whole body is tense. You drag a finger across his thigh and then up the length of his dick, slowly, reveling in the way he jolts at the contact.

"P-please." He gasps out.

"Please what Spencer?" You tilt your head at him.

"I- I need you to do something my queen I can't- it hurts."

"Do something? I'm already touching you. You need more?"

"Yes mistress, please." Spencer's head is tossed back against the couch as you trace the veins along his dick lazily.

"You're a greedy thing." You hum.

"Please mistress- please my queen I need- god please sit on my dick. Need it so bad- need you. I can't- can't help it." Spencer grips the cushions beneath him tightly, desperately trying not to squirm under your touch.

"Only because you beg very cutely." You tell him swinging your leg over to straddle him. You grip the base of his dick in your hand and lower yourself onto him with a satisfied hum while he lets out a guttural sound that makes your walls clench around him.

"Oh god thank you, my queen. thank you, thank you. You feel so good." Spencer pants out. You brace yourself using his shoulders and set your rhythm, bouncing on his dick quickly.

"Spencer, you're not allowed to cum until I say so." You tell him, grabbing his face to make sure he's listening.

"O-okay mistress. Of course mistress." He nods frantically.

"Fuck Spence this is what you're good for, this is where you belong. Filling me with your pretty little cock, covered in my squirt, you're mine aren't you baby?" You huff as you ride him furiously.

"Yes my queen yes. I'm yours. Just yours. Only you get to use me, touch me, take me. Only you make me feel so good." Spencer groans. You feel his body tense up under you and slow your pace almost to a stop.

"Not yet Spence." You mutter sweetly kissing his neck. You stay there for a few moments, grinding against him as you take some time to litter his throat with hickeys of various sizes some of which are quite dark as well. Dark enough that you're sure he'll have them through finals week. When you're satisfied with the marks covering him you pick up your pace again and his small whimpers from your lips against his skin turn to full-blown moans again. "This time Spencer you can cum, but you ask first." You tell him. He nods at your instruction and while you should scold him for not using his words you'll let it slide considering how close you know he is. He barely manages a few minutes before he's stuttering out his request.

"C-can I mistress please can I cum?" He pants out frantically.

"Good boy. Yes you can." You chuckle airily at the relief on his face when you give him permission. You keep pace until heat spills into you at which point your hips slam down harder against him even when he begins hissing from overstimulation.

"M-my queen I- too sensitive w-wait."

"I said you could cum baby but I didn't say I'd be done with you. Today you're my toy and I'll use you as long as I want. So be good and let me play." You say, letting yourself relish in the feeling of filling yourself over and over, even as his release leaks out of you and makes his thighs sticky. You moan in surprise when Spencer's dick hardens again inside you. "Oh- fuck. Well aren't you just the perfect plaything- eager to keep your queen happy."

"I- I- yes mistress." He whines. You ride him for a while longer, taking all he has to give and then some. He fills you two more times before you're satisfied and you make sure you have a couple more releases of your own by the time you're climbing off of his completely spent dick. You walk carefully over to his desk and grab his pack of wet wipes before walking back over to him, cleaning up the utter mess around his thighs. If he didn't look so exhausted you'd have him clean the mess on your thighs with his tongue, but right now you think if you asked Spencer to do anything else he'd simply collapse, so you take a few wipes to clean up yourself once you're done with him.

"You were very good today Spencer. I'd say you more than proved your devotion." You tell him with a gentle kiss.

"You're mean when you're jealous." He chuckles breathlessly.

"So are you professor." You tap his nose and stand to dress yourself. You pick his clothes up from the floor and lay them on the arm of the chair for whenever he gets the energy to stand and dress himself. You find his lunch and set it out for him on the table as well while you're at it.

"Are you leaving?" He asks, barely able to focus.

"Well- I do have some studying to do. Will you be okay? Do you want me to stay?" You ask. You won't leave him if he's going to drop but you've set up food, cleaned him up, and made sure he knows he did well.

"I- I don't want Professor Greene you know." He mumbles.

"I know, that's why I think you should go to her gathering. With all those pretty marks on your neck, she'll surely get the hint." You say. You bend over and gently brush some hair from his eyes. "You make me feel so territorial." You mutter.

"I'm sorry." He pouts.

"It's not your fault, it's unavoidable but- I don't like hiding you." You say.

"I don't like hiding you either." Spencer takes your hand in his. You pause for a moment and sigh.

"Do you want me to stay with you, Spence?" You ask brushing your thumb against the back of his hand.

"Can you spare the time?" He asks.

"Sure. But at some point, we should talk about what the end of the semester means for us." You say. Spencer sits up and you sit on the couch letting him rest his head in your lap.

"When you finish all your finals I have a question for you." He slurs a bit through his declaration.

"Why not just ask me now?"

"I want your head clear." You can barely make it out, he's obviously falling asleep, your fingers against his scalp lulling him too quickly. You're still high off adrenaline now, not quite ready to sleep but you know you'll feel the effects of this later. Good thing tomorrow is study day and you can get away with not leaving your apartment.

***

A/N: I was gonna post this on Friday but I’m posting it early as a thank you for all the love on part 1 already 🖤

[tink2kagome]

Yandere Christmas Day 1: First Christmas in Captivity (The First Year Squad)

Thank you for letting me participate @yanderecrazysie

TW: choking, mentions of choking, Yandere, mentions of captivity

All characters are aged up over 18

The leather bite of the collar against your throat had you gasping. Someone was pulling it so hard, you couldn’t force out any real words…but you fought harder–as if you could stop your worst nightmare from coming true.

Drunken howls and maniacal laughter mocked your efforts. You looked behind to see who held your leash. Ironically, it was Jack. He at least had the decency to look somewhat shamed at what his mates were doing. But not shamed enough to loosen his grip. 

“You aren’t going to want to miss this ________.” Your gaze swung back to Ace who held a baseball bat aloft, swaying on his feet, his eyes hazy from the eggnog. You lost your breathe as he took a swing at the mirror–the mirror that was supposed to be your way home. But he stopped just short of hitting the glass. You knew he was taunting you. Making you suffer. Suffer like how he thought he was suffering.

You weren’t sure how you missed it all this time: the furtive glances, the longing gazes, and reaching hands. But now it was all so clear. Somehow your closest compatriots were obsessed with you and had finally snapped. It all started a few hours before when you’d run into Deuce and Ace and told them the good news: Crowley had secured a way back to your world. You invited them and anyone else to drinks at Ramshackle in celebration as you packed a few keepsakes. Deuce had brought Jack while Ace wrangled Epel who pulled Sebek along. You all drank and were merry You never expected them all to share a look before Deuce apologized and squeezed your neck, his calloused fingers tenderly but firmly cutting off your air. 

You woke up in the mirror chamber, collared and hands bound behind your back along with your ankles. The rough rope burned as you writhed, but none of your captors seemed to care. Ace and Deuce must have recruited Jack, Epel, and Sebek to help with their scheme. 

“Why?” You’d asked, not yet broken.

“This is for your own good ____________,” Deuce tried to reassure, but Ace had cut in cruelly, “You don’t get to worm your way in our hearts and just leave. Especially not on Christmas.”

Christmas. It was an unfamiliar holiday to you and your world, something Twisted Wonderland celebrated. Apparently it was about joy, goodwill, and peace on earth. You’d even enjoyed the thought of the celebrations before the chance to go home loomed. What a joke. 

Now, Ace stood before the mirror taking practice swings. Deuce stood look out. Jack kept you docile. Epel and Sebek waited, grim faced.

“Stop taunting ‘em Ace.” Epel slurred his words and wobbled. “Just get it over with so we can go home and kick off the first night of Christmas.”

“If you aren’t going to do it, I will.” Sebek’s voice still boomed despite the subdued resignation. 

“Nah, nah. I got this. Excuse me for wanting to savor the moment and really hit home how unkind it was to even consider leaving.”

You garble your response, the leash being pulled too tight. 

“Yeah I thought you’d say that, ______”. 

And then he smashed the mirror. Glass showered. Your heart stopped and your body went cold. It was over. 

But before you had a chance to mourn, Ace had the butt of the bat jutted under your chin and lifted your wet eyes to meet his crazed ones. “And if you so much as even think of looking in another mirror…” He let the threat trail off. 

Then Epel was in front of you, pushing the bat away. “Merry Christmas, honey!” A chorus of joyous “Merry Christmas”es responded. When you said nothing back, Sebek pushed his way to you and squeezed your cheeks in his huge palm. “What do we say, darling?” Another unspoken threat. 

The grip on the leash and collar loosened just enough for you to pant out a weak “M-merry Christmas.”

[lee-laurent]

Caught (Red-Handed) - Quinn Hughes

Summary: Sneaking out to see her boyfriend isn't as easier as she thought it would be

notes: i know this is a cliche plot. but i have writers block. so here we are. sorry :/ cute little summer romance tho with some drama

content: fluff, angst, kissing, mentions of sex but no actual smut, mentions of being a "puck bunny", slight age gap, supposed cheating (it's not really. you'll see)

Veronica Zegras was head over heels in love with Quintin Hughes. She had been since Jack and Trevor were in the USNTDP and she'd met him when going with their mom to pick up Trevor from the Hughes' house.

In fact, when she thought of that day it still made her heart flutter all these years later.

"Wanna come in with me? Officially meet the Hughes? They have a son your age... Luke, I think," Julie smiled at her daughter.

"No."

"I wasn't really asking, V. Let's go."

The girl sighed, following her mom to the front door. Veronica hated meeting new people.

"Julie! Hi! And this must be Veronica," the blonde woman that opened the door smiled widely.

"Hi," Veronica waved slightly, peering behind the woman into the house.

"Come in! Come in! The boys are just cleaning up the game they were playing in the basement."

Veronica followed her mom, to the living room. Her eyes falling on the teenage boy fiddling with an Xbox controller.

"This is my oldest, Quinn. Quinn, this is Trevor's sister, Veronica."

"Hi," he paused his game, smiling shyly.

Veronica felt her cheeks heat up. He was so cute! She felt herself squeal on the inside when he smiled at her. She wasn't one for talking about boys with her friends, mostly because all her friends thought Trevor was cute (ew.) but she was definitely going to tell them about this Quinn character.

"Trevor! Your mom is here!"

"COMING!"

The sound of loud footsteps running up the stairs filled the room, but Veronica had yet to take her eyes off the cute boy sitting on the couch.

"What's Ronnie doing here?" Trevor questioned. Veronica cringed when she heard Jack laugh at her nickname.

"She's going to her friend's house. Now hurry up before we make your sister late."

"Whatever," Trevor rolled his eyes, "Later, Jack. See ya, Quinn."

"Bye. Bye, Veronica. It was cool meeting you," Quinn smiled.

"You too," she blushed, rushing out of the house before her brother noticed.

"What're you thinkin' about?" Quinn asked, brushing some of her hair from her eyes.

"Hm?"

"What're you thinkin' about?" he repeated, a smile covering his face.

"You."

"What about me?"

"The first time we met."

Quinn laughed, "When I didn't even get off the couch to say 'hi?''"

"Yeah, but I still thought you were cute."

"Oh, I knew."

"What?! You never told me that!!"

"You were blushing the whole time. It was funny."

"You're so mean," she pushed him away teasingly, pouting at his words.

"I am not. You love me," he pulled her closer to him, pressing kisses all over her face. She giggled, finally planting one on his mouth.

"I do."

"Do what?" he smirked.

"I love you, Q."

"And I love you, V."

Quinn leaned in, kissing her hungrily. She wrapped her arms around his neck, allowing him to roll her onto her back. She giggled, breaking the kiss. He rolled his eyes, going in for another one. Just as his hand was sneaking under her shirt, the door swung open.

"God! You two are like fucking rabbits," Luke complained, shielding his eyes with his hand.

"Shut up," Quinn spat, pulling the covers over them to give them at least some decency.

"Keep this up and it'll be Trevor that walks in next time."

"What do you want?" Veronica sighed.

"Trevor is up. Thought you might wanna go back to your own room for when he decides to come 'wake you up,'" Luke suggested. "If I walk in you two having sex one more time, I'm never helping you again."

"We weren't having sex."

"You were getting there," Luke scoffed, closing the door as he walked off.

"See you for breakfast, babe," Veronica kissed Quinn one last time, pulling her long shirt down to cover her ass as she ventured down the hall to the room she was supposed to be sleeping in.

Luke had found out the two were dating two months prior and had promised to keep in under wraps, mostly because Quinn threatened to kill him if he told anyone. It wasn't that the couple didn't want to tell Trevor and Jack, it's just that they liked being in their own little bubble. And Trevor would actually freak out if he found out his 20-year-old sister was dating a 24-year-old. He was weird like that. Trevor knew she had a boyfriend, but he didn't who he was. He didn't even know his name.

"Morning, Q! How'd you sleep?" Trevor asked, annoyingly awake for it only being 8:30.

"Great," Quinn sighed, rubbing his eyes.

"V still sleeping?" Jack asked Trevor, slicing some strawberries for breakfast.

"Probably. She was probably up all night texting her boyfriend. Mom said they're doing a 'long distance summer' or some shit."

"She's still seeing him?"

"Yeah," Trevor shrugged, stealing one of the berries. "Why do you sound so surprised?"

"Just thought she would've ended things by now. Your sister isn't known for her commitment," Jack replied, pulling the bowl away from his friend.

Quinn rolled his eyes at the remark. He knew standing up for her would seem suspicious, so he kept his lips sealed. Sure, before she'd made the move to Vancouver the year before, Quinn would also question Veronica's commitment issues, but their relationship was proof that it was all just in the boys' heads.

"Her puck bunny era ended," Cole laughed.

Trevor chuckled, "Yeah, like a month after she moved to Vancouver. Guess the Canucks just aren't her type."

God, he couldn't be more wrong. In fact, the front man for the Canucks was the definition of her type.

"I'm going to wake her up."

"Have fun."

Trevor bounced up the stairs, knocking aggresively on the door of the room his sister was staying in, "Rise and shine, bitch!! Boat day!!"

"I'm coming!" she yelled back, fixing her hair in her phone camera.

"Hurry up before we eat all the food."

"Your fat ass would!" she retorted, pushing past him to go downstairs.

"I'm not fat! Jack, tell Ronnie that I'm not fat!"

Jack laughed, almost choking on his toast, "He's not fat, Ronnie! Jeez!"

"He eats like he is," she winked at Quinn, grabbing the piece of toast he was about to bite. He rolled his eyes, reaching for another.

"You finally gonna wakesurf, Ron?" Luke smiled cheekily.

"Hell no! And risk my life in front of you idiots, count me out."

"Bet you'd look hot doing it," Jack teased, earning a slap to the back of the head from Trevor.

"No, she'd look average as usual."

"Shut up, Trev. Fucking annoying ass," she mumbled to herself, stealing more food from Quinn's plate.

"Get your own," he grumbled, using his arms to guard his plate.

"But the food from your plate tastes better than food from my plate," she whined, trying to manoeuvre her way past his blockade.

The bickering between Veronica and Quinn was so usual that nobody even batted an eye, choosing to continue their own conversations while Veronica attempted to wrestle Quinn for his food.

"PUT ME DOWN!" she screeched, hit at his bare back as he marched outside with her thrown over his shoulder.

"If you promise to stop stealing my food," he smirked.

"NEVER!"

And with that her body hit the lake with a loud SPLASH! Veronica surfaced, coughing to clear the water from her nose. The rest of the boys had gathered at the sliding glass doors to the back porch, laughing loudly at the scene in front of them.

"I hate you!" she sputtered, pulling herself out of the water. She peeled her soaked t-shirt off, chucking it at Quinn. He laughed, admiring her figure as she sauntered back to the house, hair dripping wet.

The group gathered on the boat, Veronica changed into dry clothes. She hated sitting there all wet and cold, especially with the wind from the boat. Quinn was driving and she was sat in the passenger seat as always... Quinn's passenger princess.

"Why does Ronnie get to sit next to Quinn?" Trevor whined, "Maybe I wanted to sit next to Quinn."

"Pretty privilege. You'd never understand," Veronica sassed, pulling her sunglasses off her head.

"Who told you that you're pretty?" Trevor scoffed.

"My boyfriend."

"Are we sure he's real?"

"Rude! He's very real."

"Yeah, he's just Canadian," Jack laughed.

"My boyfriend doesn't go here. He's Canadian," Cole joked.

"Shut up!" she pouted, crossing her arms over her chest. "Hate you dumbasses. Should've gone on a girls' trip."

"Alright, who's surfing first?" Quinn asked, ending the petty argument about how real his girlfriend's boyfriend was.

"Are you sure you're not mad?" Trevor asked again, watching as his sister rummaged through the fridge for vodka he'd hidden from her.

"I'm not mad, Trev. Just drop it."

"I didn't mean to embarass you in front of the guys. I swear."

"Trev, I said it's fine. Where's the alcohol?"

"You're not drinking."

"What? Why not?"

"Cause you always get wayyyy too touchy-feely when you drink."

She rolled her eyes, going to find her boyfriend. He'd get her alcohol. Her knuckles rapped against his door.

"Come in! Oh, hey, baby. What's up?"

"Trev hid the alcohol from me," she starfished on his bed.

"Why?" he asked, pulling out some regular shorts to change into.

"He said I get too 'touchy-feely' when I drink."

"I mean..."

"Shut up. You're supposed to be on my side."

"I'm not saying I'm on his side, babe. It's just... he kinda has a point."

"Quiiiiinnnnnn."

"Why don't you do that water bottle trick you showed me?"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I won't say anything. Just... try to keep your hands to yourself."

"But what if I wanna touch my super hot, hockey star boyfriend?" she smirked, placing her palms on his chest.

"I'd strongly advise against it. But... if you come to sleep in here tonight, I won't argue," he replied, leaning down to kiss her.

"I love you, Qball."

"Love you too, V."

Veronica had emptied a quarter of a plastic water bottle, filling the rest with vodka. It was a trick she'd made in high school, one that her brother still hadn't picked up on. She was sat next to Quinn, slowly sipping at her 'water.'

Luke, who was also underage, was allowed to drink. But not her. Whatever. Quinn would make up for it. He always did.

"How's school?" Cole asked, sipping his beer.

"Oh, it's good. Almost done."

"You, uh, you live on campus?"

"No, I have my own place."

That was a lie. She lived with Quinn.

"How's that? Lonely?" Jack questioned.

"Not really. I have friends that come over like every day."

"And her boyfriend," Trevor smiled.

"Yeah. And my boyfriend."

"How long have you guys been together?"

"A year back in June," she grinned, noticing the blush covering Quinn's face.

"Damn. Getting serious?"

"Uh, I guess."

"He gonna meet Trev soon?"

"Whenever he's ready," she nodded, taking a much larger sip of her drink.

"Who? Trev or your boyfriend?"

"Both," she cackled, side-eyeing Quinn.

The rest of the night went smoothly and Veronica was just about to make her way down the hall to Quinn's room. She had brushed her teeth, put on her cutest pjs (one of Quinn's old Canucks shirts and a pair of tiny shorts), and fixed her hair from the lake water.

"Hey, babe," he smiled, putting his phone down on his bedside table.

"Hi," she beamed, sliding into the bed next to him.

"Nice shirt."

"Thanks. I stole it from this loser I know."

"Loser, huh? I would've guessed he was like super cool and hot."

"Meh."

"Oh, that's it," he laughed, attacking her with kisses. He pinned her wrists down, their teeth clashing as they kissed. It was sloppy and they were both a bit tipsy, but God did they love kissing. They'd do it all day, every day if they could.

She hummed, feeling his hands reach under her shirt. They skimmed the skin of her chest, his lips coming down to press wet kisses along her neck.

She gasped at the feeling, "No marks."

"I know," he groaned, "Can I take this off?"

"The shirt?"

"Yeah."

"Sure," she helped him pull it over her head, laying back down on the pillows.

"Fuck, you're perfect, V."

"That's all you, Q."

Just as he was about to snake his hand higher up her thigh, the door opened.

"You didn't lock it?!" she whisper-shouted.

"No?"

"What the hell?!" Trevor jumped, covering his eyes.

Quinn was quick to pull his shirt off, using it to cover his girlfriend.

"You can uncover your eyes," the older boy sighed.

"What is going on?! Veronica! You HAVE A BOYFRIEND! You're cheating on him with QUINN?!"

She rolled her eyes, "No, Trev-"

"You clearly are!"

"No, Trevor. I'm not cheating on my boyfriend. Quinn is my boyfriend."

"WHAT?!"

"Yeah, surprise?" she shrugged, smiling sheepishly.

"Your boyfriend of a year?"

"Yeah."

"The boyfriend Mom said gave you a promise ring?"

"Yeah."

"There's no way."

Quinn flipped his phone around, showing his wallpaper to Trevor. It was a picture of the couple at family skate, laughing at something someone behind the camera had said.

"WHAT?!"

Veronica laughed, making Trevor frown.

"This is insane. I'm going to bed. This is just a weird dream," he walked off.

"I wonder what he's gonna say in the morning when he finds out it was real," Veronica giggled.

"Doesn't matter right now. Now, where were we?"

[thefuseoftemptation]

wrong number

'you get a phone call and find out it's a wrong number but realize that you don't want to stop talking to the person at the other end. come to find out, he's from another decade.’

eddie munson x reader/ eddie munson x gn!reader

warning(s): cursing, au (not sure if it would be considered an au but imma put it), mention of modern time. I'm just putting tags I'm not even sure what to tag this under. lmk if there are more.

a/n: prompt # 4 from the strangerprompts by @allthingsjoeq @somnambulic-thing and @bettyfrommars. mkay, I've never done these types of things or participated before, but yknow, I took a shot and I liked it lol so thank you guys!

—

"What?"

Your voice was nothing short of clipped. The results of hearing your phone vibrate too many times for you to tolerate another call going unanswered.

It was abnormal in your opinion. To receive this many calls from the same number within a short time.

While sure, you occasionally complained about the lack of service that came through the device due to your inability to actually hold a relationship with anybody, much less a conversation, this isn't what you were looking for.

And if your shortness wasn't clear enough before, your annoyance must've been by the way you questioned a 'hello,' with a lifted brow. Not really saying it as one should when normally speaking to someone. That was, if anyone was even on the other side.

"Uh, hello." The voice imitated your previous tone, pulling out the last vowel as he sung it.

He.

If you had to guess, probably no more than your age.

"Huh, so you can speak? You know you could've begun with that? When someone picks up the phone after being called, who knows how many times," you state through your teeth, "the least you could do is have the decency to actually say something when they answer."

"Y’know I don’t like your tone, we’re going to try this again.” He mouthed.

“Wait, what? No-”

He hung up before you could refuse. Your phone pulled away from your ear as your mind tried to catch up with what just happened. And in the midst of that, your phone vibrated, again.

Your finger hovered over the button as you eyed the device, sliding it over when you’d been staring long enough.

“Hello?” You questioned, unsure. The shift in your tone is clearly obvious.

“You learn quickly.”

The same voice replied back, and his response had you narrowing your eyes.

Asshole.

“I had said it before. You were the one who needed the lesson in how to answer back.” You reiterate.

“Well, m’not about to respond to somebody who starts a conversation with 'what.' I mean, have you no manners?" The guy said. You could hear the lilt in his voice and how he seemed to be grinning on the other side, but you had to shake your head from thinking any further on it because there was still a question that you'd been meaning to ask.

"Who are you?"

"It's your conscience, clearly I haven't been able to get through to you which is why you're probably lacking, well, manners, but- worry not, for I am here."

You weren't sure if it was you still trying to comprehend everything that's happened in the last few minutes, or that this guy knew how to pull conversation so easily that you went along with it- but you hadn't even realized he never properly answered or that he just lowkey called you out on something you knew was evident to a blind person.

And you didn't even correct him, and rather than just hang up on someone you didn't know, you stayed on the phone and chose to enlighten him.

"Hm, so that's what that was? Who would've thought I'd have one of those," you sighed and shrugged, leaning back against the bed frame. You could hear him snort at the small insult you'd given yourself, hearing the feign in your voice was enough to let him know your humor was in tack.

It made you grin. The first of many, and the first in a while to tell the truth. You also couldn't stop yourself from thinking about how this was probably the longest conversation you've ever held with someone.

"I'm Eddie." His voice pulled you from your thoughts, trying to catch up in the moments you'd been away.

"Huh?"

You could hear chuckling before it was repeated. "My name. You asked me who I was."

Eddie.

It didn't sound familiar. You didn't know anyone named Eddie, but then again, you didn't really know anyone and you had questioned it when you guy's began talking. It was a number you'd never seen before either so there was that.

You hadn't realized you'd been quiet until Eddie spoke.

"Y'know, this is where you tell me your name." He remarked. "We really gotta work on your communication skills and social cues." Unbeknownst to you though, since you only just met the guy, he shouldn't be one to talk.

You let out something between a scoff and a breathy chuckle before telling him yours. And Eddie repeated what you did moments ago- saying your name under his breath, to himself- as if he was worried he'd forget it in those few seconds.

It was easy to get into conversation with him, primarily because he kept pulling you into things he’d knew would get a response out of you. Like saying shit that you’d end up reprimanding him for because it annoyed you.

He knew that, and you weren’t so sure you liked how transparent you seemed to be. You’d known him for only a short time and he already knew how to push your buttons. Which you told him but his response was anything but what you expected it to be. He simply shrugged it off, telling you that ‘you let it get to you.’

To which you rebutted fully knowing he was right, which annoyed you more. Though other than that, the conversation between you two had been decent.

There were a few times when you had been confused by what he’d been speaking about, but you just assumed it was the way he was. I mean, the guy spent- you’re guessing- most of his time today calling the wrong number, only to hang up on you just to call you again because he didn’t like your tone. And then went on to call you out on your shit, which by the way, you still haven’t let go of. Either way, you just thought that what he was talking about, was how he spoke. A sort of slang, you know? I mean, now, that’s all people use these days.

Who were you to question it? It’s not like you could ask anybody what it meant. You weren’t even sure what the words were yourself. I mean you did but nobody said that sort of thing anymore.

There were a few moments of silence that occurred, mainly between your guys' turns in speaking. It wasn’t until you heard him on his end that you asked what he’d been up to. He kept muttering something under breath.

Well, it was more him humming, every other minute or so though you’d hear a word, and the more he hummed- the more familiar it sounded.

“Is that…..Metallica?” You peeked, unsure if you were right. His side went quiet the second you said it, and you could assume it was because you were likely wrong in your guess.

“Y-You know Metallica?” Eddie enounced. He was standing upright, his previous stance of leaning on the frame gone, as he stood there with wide eyes and mouth agape at your sudden query.

So you were right.

“Uh, yes.” It came out sounding like a question rather than you stating the obvious. “My Uncle used to listen to them. Whenever he came over when I was younger, that was all I’d ever hear. He’d tell us he grew up on them, so it was only right that we did too.” You explained. Eddie’s mouth stretched up at hearing your words, too caught up in the recognition you had for one of his favorite bands, for him to even comprehend what you just said.

“I’ve never-” and then it hit him. His brows pinched together as he pulled the phone away from his ear. Did he hear you right?  “Wait…grew up on them?” If it hadn’t been for the way you told the story, as if it actually happened, he would’ve thought you were pulling his leg. And you probably were so he just reacted logically. He chuckled. “Mkay, right right.” 

It was your turn to pinch your face together, not understanding his sudden shift or why he was chuckling to begin with. “What? It’s true. The man grew up on them.” You raised, still clearly confused by his response.

“Mhm, sure.” You could hear the way he pulled the word, like he wasn’t convinced at all. Why was it so hard for him to get that what you were saying was true? “He’d have to be my age, kid.” He voiced.

W-What? 

“Excuse me?” You uttered, sitting up from your bed frame. Not only were you confused but you were getting a little freaked out. He sounded young, your age, give or take. There was no way you had been conversing with a guy in his 50’s.

“You heard me, he’d have to be my age. There’s no way this guy grew up on them. The band isn’t even that old, it hasn’t been that long. I mean, I get we were joking before but man, you really got me there. I almost fell for it!” Eddie said. “How old are you?” He managed through his breathy laughs.

You could feel your heart pick up, the genuineness clear in his voice. He really thought you were joking, that everything you just said in the last few minutes was made up. But it hadn’t been and that’s what had you getting up from your bed. This was beginning to be too much for you.

“E-Eddie, what are you talking about? You’re freaking me out.”

And suddenly it wasn’t so amusing anymore. His face fell upon hearing your tone. The humor he once found in the situation, now gone, as he stared ahead. You sounded worried, alarmed even. It was quiet for a few seconds until he spoke, his tongue swiped his bottom lip before he did so.

“Uhm, look t-this isn’t-” his hand wiped down his face. “W-What are you talking about, man? One minute we're laughing and joking around and the next you’re telling me about your Uncle growing up on Metallica. There’s no way! Mkay?” He was getting agitated, visibly shaken up as he thought about you on the other side in the same state. “Like I said, the band isn’t even that old. It's only been a couple of years, it’s 1986 for christ sake!” And though he had been saying it all so fast, you still understood them. It’s why you felt yourself unable to move upon hearing his last few words.

1986. 

The numbers repeated over and over in your head as you stood there. 

“W-What?” You stuttered, voice shaky as you asked. It wasn’t possible. “It’s not!” You raise, your hands moving with a mind of their own as you swiped out of where you were and looked at the screen. In the corner of your phone, the current date stared back. The time you were currently in. As in, right now. You could hear Eddie speaking but because you didn’t have it against your ear, you couldn’t tell what exactly he’d been saying.

It’s not possible, it's not possible, it’s not.

He said it like it was true. He didn't just think it was 86', he was saying it like he knew it was. It was just impossible, the year he said, wasn’t the year you were in.

You lifted the phone back up to your ear, hands unable to keep still as you look ahead. Your eyes glassy as you spoke.

“Who are you?”

Eddie’s breath picked up at the way you questioned it, your voice at a whisper. He ran his hand through his hair again, already disheveled from how many times he’d done it prior to when you went quiet.

“I told you. My name is Eddie....and it's 1986."

Your eyes shut as he uttered his name, the lack of deceit evident.

—

a/n: I wasn't sure how to end it.

feedback and reblogs are appreciated.

[barleyo]

Make the Most of Freedom.

Father! Sukuna X Daughter! Reader (smut)

A/N: can you tell i'm going through a sukuna obsession right now? ^_^ he's literally my everything currently, and i love him as a father

Tags: incest (daddy-daughter), slight mentions of abuse and forced marriage, sexism and heavy misogyny, oral (f receiving)

Wordcount: 1.7k

Your father was decent enough to you, as fathers went. None were particularly good, but you had recently heard gossip of a man who married his daughter off to the town's local pervert in her eighteenth year, convinced by a lump sum of silver, so, certainly your old-fashioned, stern father was a lucky draw. For all the so called "decency" your old man had, though, he had a certain distaste for women. Girls more so. 

Perhaps it was when your mother died that he gained this sneering mentality on the opposite sex. Likely that being left with you, a girl he was forced to raise on his own, was what caused it. Either way, Sukuna's affections for you only ran so deep.  Not abusive, necessarily. Distant was more like it. Neglectful where it mattered most, you often thought, but diligent in your personal matters. 

He practically had a legion of homebound spies to keep him up to date on you.

Choices were not something you often got to make in your life. Every day seemed to be planned out down to the second for you. Servants crowded you and equated you to a pampered house pet. Practice this, say that, eat this, but definitely don't eat that. Look this way. Look there. 

Do not look at him. 

Boys were a nonstarter. Romance was hardly allowed to be the subject of your fantasy. If Sukuna could gain a monopoly on your mind and control your every thought, he would. Without a second thought. He could not, though, so luckily for you, you could peer around a wooden beam on the veranda and watch one of the younger servant boys walk around your father's estate. 

To catch a glimpse of a boy was a rare treat with how often Uraume, on your father's order, tasked you with some type of busy work or etiquette training. Still, you enjoyed your cheeky voyeuristic moments. You savored them, knowing that the spare moments you had to yourself were your only chances at feeling normal. 

Normal girls at your age had other normal girls to chat with about boys. Normal girls had suitors and gentleman callers. Normal girls' pursuers did not disappear randomly after attempting to court them. Normal girls did not have fathers who were feared across all lands. No, that was a you-problem. 

Then again, normal fathers did not love their daughters as much as Sukuna loved you, despite how terribly horrid he was at showing it.

Like every other day, you were aimlessly trapped inside your home. Perhaps not trapped. There were plenty of places to go—your father owned more land than any man could reasonably need—but where else would you go? Outside to be teased by the sight of assorted servants and concubines enjoying the simplicity of their lives? Or, perhaps you could go to the servants' quarters, where Uraume would grill you on your posture and wipe nonexistent smudges off of your face. As wonderful as those exhilarating options sounded, you felt that staying inside the four comforting walls of the main house would be in your best interest.

You leaned against the sliding door parked at the entrance of the house. Trailing your fingers gently over the wooden frame, your found that the door was slightly ajar. A careless servant must have left it open, and you must have been too lost in your thoughts to feel the cool draft wheedling through the crack. Your finger pads pushed against the doorframe to slide it shut, but a familiar voice stopped you. 

That boy. That wonderfully, blissfully ignorant boy. 

You envied him on a few days, but desired him on most. In essence, he was free. Freer than you, at the very least. He seemed your age, but he walked with the experience of a man your father's age. You wondered if he knew things you did not. If he could teach you—touch you.

Sukuna disliked the younger boys that worked on the estate. Lazy, the lot of them. Lazy and easily rousing to the otherwise whorish women who worked with them. You assumed your father simply did not like people, with the way he had a complaint for every make and model of society. 

Women were inferior sluts. Girls were stupid and vapid. Men were arrogant and audacious. Boys were impure little bastards and something you would have nothing to do with under his roof.

He made that very clear when you attempted to ask about leaving the estate with the boy. He pleaded for you to ask your father, and stupidly, you did.

Your father looked at you with what could most plainly be described as disgust. Shame, you would say, if you thought your father was capable of feeling any. 

"Leave?" 

You knew you made a mistake the second the words left your mouth. No phrasing or tone change could have saved you. 'Leave,' 'home,' and 'you' were words Sukuna wouldn't tolerate in the same sentence, unless of course the sentence was: 'I shall never leave home or be away from you, father.'

"For what?" he asked, clenched hands resting on the top of the table. Uraume, knowing what was about to happen from the guilt-stricken look on your face, had disappeared into the servant's quarters right after presenting dinner. "That boy?"

Such venom was spat in the word. Such degradation forced into a single syllable word. You bit your tongue for a moment, feeling offended on the behalf of your tawdry crush. 

"Why, I have half a mind to lock you up. He is the one who had put these ideas into your head, isn't he?" Sukuna asked between bites of his dinner. The idea angered him to his core, but the idea of such a pathetic man-child attempting to take his only heir was humorous enough to keep his temper even enough to eat.   "You probably think you love him, right? Foolishness."

He scoffed and waved his hand at you dismissively, nose crinkled. After a thick gulp of his wine, he continued, practically speaking to himself as you fumed silently in embarrassment. 

"He's just a boy. Swine, really, and you—" his eyes sharpened— "are not to see him again."

That shattered any hope you had left. The small window of freedom you had, the small glimpse of a future, was snatched. 

"That is not fair!"

Childishness, as Sukuna had expected. He sighed and ignored you. What he hadn't expected was the quick, flagrant backtalk you spat out. 

"He isn't just a boy. He's a man, and I am a woman now," you said, voice rushing to match the pace of your furious mind. "I'll leave whenever I want to. If I want to go into the city with him, I will. A woman can choose..." you trailed off, obviously not being as experienced as an independent woman as you claimed to be. 

Sukuna's expression never shifted. He didn’t flinch, didn’t blink—he simply stared at you, his gaze sharp, predatory. The silence hung heavy in the room, oppressive, thick with the weight of unspoken things. His eyes bored into you like a vice, until you began to regret every word that had left your mouth.

"You are a woman," he said loudly, his voice a low rumble of danger and fact, "it's what I hate most about you. Just like any other woman, look at how you turned out. Spoiled. Pampered. I'll bet a whore too," he added, peering down at your body for a beat too long, seeing the way the silks trapped your matured form. "Is that why you set yourself out to leave? Lover-boy knocked you up like some common whore?"

You could tell by his tone he didn't actually think so lowly of you, but the relentless taunts broke you. Any pretense of womanhood shattered under the embarrassment of father chiding you. 

"Well, who will want you now, hm? Not a pretty, little virgin anymore. See what boys do?" Sukuna stood and pulled you up by your shoulder, forcing you to his level. 

"They ruin you."

If boys ruined you, what did men do? With your father's hands digging into your hips and with his tongue attacking your rosy clit, you reckoned that they saved you. 

Yes, saved. That was the word for it, when Sukuna's spit baptized your dripping cunt, you felt saved. How such a feared, demonic man could make you feel such heavenly things, you knew not, but that wasn't what was important. What was important was that you could hardly remember the name of the once tempting boy you had fought so hard to go with. 

Many nights after the argument with you father, you tried to force yourself to leave. You made it to the door each time, sometimes further into the garden, before returning back to your room. Your scarce knapsack was unpacked quickly and you tucked yourself back into bed like nothing had happened. 

The night that you made it to the estate gates, you ran back home as fast as your bare feet would take you. You clawed at your father's bedroom door, splintering the tips of your fingers as you cried it for him to let you in. 

You would admit it. He was right. As always, regretfully. You were a stupid girl with the dreams of a woman and eyes bigger than your true appetite. As you sobbed into your father's robes, sick gratification crossed his features. 

"Not your fault," he mumbled between your thighs, licking agonizing stripes through your folds. "Y'never learn. I know."

Your body laid bare before him, showing every curve and blemish, every sin clear as day, you seized and rocked on the mattress. Your blood was hot and your chest was uneven. 

Inexperienced and needy, you gave into your father the second his hands slid down your panties. You let him guide you. Your shepherd, his sheep. Your white wool was his for the taking, and he harvested with interest. He took all you had to give. Ever noise you could make, every gasp, he stole from your chest greedily. 

He could have you, all of you. Nobody else could match him in that moment. As your cunt melted into his mouth, he peered at you through heavy lashes with pure ownership.

How could you ever leave the man that finally made you a woman?

[steddieas-shegoes]

i'm glad i get forever to see where you end

for @messessentialist's birthday. i already said it all on ao3, but i love you biiiiitch. happy birthday, kissin you on the lips with tongue, cuddling you while we steal cool rocks from national parks (allegedly).

rated e | 14,135 words | cw: minor character deaths offscreen, brief discussion of grief and mourning, alcohol | check ao3 for all tags

🎣🎣🎣🎣🎣

He stares down at the paper in his hands. He thought he’d feel relief, maybe a tiny bit of happiness that he’d never admit to. He even considered that he might feel a small speck of sadness the day his brother died.

But all Wayne Munson feels right now is disbelief and anger, and he doesn’t know where to hide it before Eddie gets home.

“God damn idiot. Couldn’t even have the decency to die of old age. Had to go and get killed behind bars,” Wayne mutters under his breath as he folds the paper and slips it back into the envelope, hoping that keeping it out of sight might help him come to terms with the emotions flooding his chest. “Bullshit.”

Wayne is tired. He feels exhaustion in his bones, even in his fresh retirement.

For some, retirement is a time to reflect on the life you’ve lived and experience the things you couldn’t while you worked and raised a family. For others, retirement never happens at all.

For Wayne, retirement is a reminder that he almost lost his nephew, his son, and the government had to make sure he wouldn’t say a damn thing about how.

He knows he shouldn’t complain, but damn he sure would like to.

And now he has to figure out a way to tell Eddie that his father got killed in prison. The letter doesn’t say much, just that it was violent and the person responsible for his death is facing further consequences. As if Wayne cares about that. As if it helps explain this situation to a boy who already lost enough.

He sighs as he grabs a beer from the fridge and glances at the clock. Eddie should be home soon. He can’t hold onto this for too long; The news will get out soon enough and he’ll hear it from somewhere else, somewhere who won’t take the time to see what Eddie needs.

He takes a sip of the beer, then another, hoping the next taste of the bitter hops will help him decipher what he needs to say to Eddie.

It’s almost a blessing that Eddie doesn’t arrive home for another hour, giving Wayne time to finish his beer and get started on dinner.

Wayne is already prepared to ask Steve to head out tonight instead of linger, using the excuse of making sure Eddie doesn’t need anything before he goes. Usually Wayne finds it endearing, and hopes Eddie can see what’s so obvious there, but not tonight.

But Steve doesn’t walk in with Eddie.

Eddie’s humming something when he walks in, setting his cane against the table before sitting down in a chair and looking at Wayne with a smile.

“Hey, Wayne. How’s your day been?”

Wayne knows he’s about to ruin Eddie’s day at the very least and he’s not sure if he wants that task. He silently curses Al Munson again, wishing for someone to show up and say it was a mistake just so he doesn’t have to do this.

“Oh, boring. Ya know I hate retirement,” Wayne says as he brushes off the stress, tries to figure out a way to lead in to the news naturally. “Too much time on my hands.”

“You love fishing, though. Thought that’s where you went all morning.”

Wayne nodded. “You’re right about that. Guess I just like keeping my mind busy.”

He’s met with silence, which leads him to looking over to the table, where Eddie is staring at the envelope the letter came in.

Why did he leave it out in the open like that? It’s clearly marked from the prison.

“What’s this?” Eddie asks, always curious to the point of danger. “Dad get out?”

This was one of the worst things Wayne ever had to do and that’s saying something. Vietnam wasn’t for the weak, losing the love of his life nearly killed him, and seeing Eddie in a hospital bed after just barely escaping death is something he’d feel deep in his chest for years. But this was up there.

“No, son,” Wayne sighed, turning away from the pot on the stove. Beef stew and bread with butter was one of Eddie’s favorites, but it took a lot of work. That didn’t matter as much as making sure Eddie had support. “They sent a letter to let me know your dad passed away.”

Eddie didn’t look away from the letter. He was playing with the rings on his fingers, replaced by Steve the moment he realized they were missing in the hospital.

“Did they say how?” Eddie finally asked, still not looking up at Wayne.

“They just said another inmate was responsible. I don’t know any details. I’m sorry, Ed. Really sorry.”

And he is. Despite the fact that Al was a terrible father and made Eddie’s life harder than it should have ever been, he knows Eddie must have a lot of complicated emotions.

“Welp!” Eddie claps his hands on his thighs before finally looking back up at Wayne. “Guess that’s that.”

“It…is?” Wayne is trying to watch for any sign of discomfort or sadness, maybe anger. He sees none.

“Yeah. Not like I’ve really had him around to feel much of a loss.” Eddie smiles. It’s not fake, at least not according to Wayne’s judgment. “You’ve been my dad more than he ever was.”

Wayne feels warmth spreading in his chest at the thought of Eddie seeing him as his parent. It makes sense, but he’s never outright said something. Sure, he gave him Father’s Day cards, often handmade. And yeah, he braved a fishing trip every year for Wayne’s birthday because he knew it meant a lot to him. There was that one time he’d called him Dad when he was on morphine in the hospital.

Hearing it changes something in Wayne.

“You really feel that way, kid?” Wayne asks, sitting down at the table across from Eddie.

“Yeah. I kinda thought you knew that already.”

“Guess it’s nice to hear anyway.”

They don’t say anything else. They don’t need to.

A few minutes goes by before Wayne stands up and walks over to the stew, giving it a stir and taking a spoonful out to test the carrots and beef.

“Is that beef stew?” Eddie asks as the scent hits him.

“Sure is.”

“You were worried about how this was gonna go, huh?” Eddie teases, smirk evident in his voice.

“A little. Can’t blame me, can ya?” Wayne decides it’s done and turns off the stove. He’s grabbing two bowls from the cabinet when the front door opens.

“You forgot the meds!” Steve yells as he runs into their kitchen with a bottle of prescription pills in his hand. He freezes when he sees Wayne dishing out stew. “Sorry. Uh. Am I interrupting?”

Wayne laughs around a sigh, reaching up to grab a third bowl.

“No, have a seat, son. Just gettin’ ready to eat.”

Eddie stands and limps his way to Steve, taking the pill bottle to pocket it before he leans further in his space.

“I’m an orphan!”

Steve’s jaw drops and Wayne does all he can not to laugh. It’s not funny, and he knows that Eddie’s probably not processing the news properly yet, but he’d rather laugh than cry.

“Sorry, what?”

“My dad’s dead. The biological one in prison. Rest in peace to the man who gave me, like, two useful skills and musical talent.” Eddie is still leaning into Steve’s space and Wayne’s watching, waiting.

“I’m sorry, Eddie, that sucks.”

“Nah, it sucks that he was such a shitty dad I barely even feel sad that he’s dead.” Ah, there it is. That’s why he’s doing better than Wayne expected. “I’ve got Wayne.”

“Damn right,” Wayne adds as he pulls spoons out of the drawer. “Let’s eat.”

Steve seems lost for a moment as he looks between Wayne and Eddie, unsure what else to say in this admittedly strange situation.

He finally grabs two bowls off the counter and sets them in his and Eddie’s spots at the table.

“Let’s eat.”

- - -

Two days pass before it really hits Eddie.

Wayne’s been waiting.

Nothing major happens. Eddie doesn’t break down in tears or lash out in anger. He doesn’t even mention saying goodbye in some way.

“We should go on a trip.” He says to Wayne while they’re eating breakfast.

“What kinda trip?” Wayne asks without looking up from his newspaper.

“Camping. Or maybe cabin-ing. Somewhere with walls and running water.” Eddie sounds breathless, like he’s run a marathon. Wayne finally looks up and sees the look in his eyes. “Could go fishing and roast marshmallows and swim and stuff. Like that one time.”

He’s talking about the trip they took together a few months after he moved in permanently. His mama was gone and his dad was sitting in jail waiting for sentencing on an armed robbery turned homicide. Wayne wanted to get Eddie’s mind off everything before he had to go back to school, so he took him up to a friend’s cabin at the lake for a few days.

Eddie’s never been an outside person, but they had fun there.

It was the first time Wayne felt like Eddie was his.

It may have been the first time Eddie felt safe with Wayne, too.

“I could see if that cabin’s available. My buddy doesn’t rent it out much anymore so I’m sure he’d be fine with us using it.”

“Could Steve come?”

“Sure.”

He agrees without a second thought.

This is Eddie’s way of seeking comfort in the people he has left, he can see it from a mile away. If Eddie needs Steve to come with them, it’s no skin off Wayne’s back.

Plus, Wayne can recognize how badly Steve needs to relax. He can’t believe someone as young as him walks with so much tension in his shoulders and lines on his forehead.

“Sweet. He’s never been fishing,” Eddie explains. “Or hiking in the right side up. At least not proper hiking. I guess we aren’t really doing proper hiking. I’m wearing jeans. Can’t be real hiking.”

Wayne smiles down at the sports section of the paper, nodding and humming in agreement when Eddie recommends something else for their trip.

- - -

Steve tries insisting on taking his car as his contribution to the weekend, but Wayne tells him they need the space in his truck for all their gear. It occurs to him when Steve just blinks back at him that Eddie didn’t explain how much is actually involved in all this.

But Wayne takes the time to show him some of the stuff he already has packed in the bed of his truck.

“I thought we were staying in a cabin. Why do we have a tent?” Steve sounds nervous when he asks.

“It’s not a full tent. Just a canopy to hang up to protect us from the sun if we get caught up somewhere during our hike.”

“Hike?” Steve turns towards the trailer, glaring at Eddie, who is too busy trying to figure out which of his sneakers to wear to notice. “He didn’t say anything about hiking. I don’t have boots or, or, anything!”

Wayne grabs Steve’s shoulders, looks him in the eye, and lets out a laugh.

“Do ya think Eddie would agree to go on a hike that requires special boots?” Wayne shakes his head. “Don’t think I could bribe him to go on anything but an easy trail unless that Lars guy from Metallica was at the end of it.”

“So I’ll be fine in my Nikes?” Steve clarifies.

“Better than.” Wayne turns back to the truck bed. “I grabbed an extra pole for ya, but it’s a bit short. We can make it work, though.”

Steve stares at everything piled into the truck. Wayne stares at Steve.

He can’t read him quite like he can read Eddie, not yet, but he’s got a feeling that Steve’s overwhelmed by the effort. Wayne doesn’t know much about his upbringing, but he can imagine it was pretty lonely what with his parents being gone more than they were home.

He’s certain Richard Harrington wouldn’t even know how to cast a line, let alone catch a fish.

“Wayne! Should I just bring both?” Eddie’s standing barefoot on the top step of the deck, holding two pairs of sneakers up.

“Sure, Ed.” Wayne looks down at his bare feet and wrinkles his nose. “Don’t forget your socks.”

“Does he do that a lot?” Steve asks, still staring at everything in the truck.

“Not so much anymore. When he’s got a lot on his mind, though, he forgets little stuff. Socks, underwear, eating.” Wayne could go on, but he’s pretty sure Eddie will kill him if he does. “He’s excited for this trip so it probably isn’t at the front of his mind.”

“Right, yeah. I noticed that.” Steve finally looks at Wayne, small smile on his face. Fond, Wayne would say. “He was so caught up on picking up the kids for game night, he forgot the games.”

“Sounds like our boy,” Wayne said, waiting for any kind of negative reaction from Steve at his words.

But Steve’s smile grew, his cheeks flushing a light pink. He looked over at where Eddie had been standing moments ago, and Wayne watches him.

“Steve, I feel like-“

“Wayne! We forgot hot dogs!” Eddie calls from inside the trailer, front door wide open allowing him to see Eddie’s movement by the fridge. “And buns!”

Steve looks back at Wayne. “I can run and get some while you finish up here.”

“I already grabbed them. Check that red cooler and the bag next to it,” Wayne gestured towards three coolers along the side of the truck bed. “He wasn’t payin’ attention when I told him I was packin’ everything.”

“Not surprising.”

“We got it all Ed! Throw your bag in and let’s go!” Wayne calls towards the trailer. “He’s gonna throw a fit about ridin’ in the middle, but that’s what he gets for bein’ a bean pole.”

Steve snorts as he walks over to open the passenger door. “He’ll live.”

Wayne thinks Steve’s gonna fit right in.

- - -

The cabin is off the beaten path. It’s actually off of all paths. They’re lucky that Wayne’s friend visited recently to clear bushes and trees away so they could get to it.

Forest surrounds it on three sides, the lake is in the back.

It’s quiet, an escape for all of them, but especially for Eddie. Whatever thoughts are trying to cloud Eddie’s mind might just float away in the fresh air if he manages to relax enough.

They unload the truck efficiently, bringing everything inside except the fishing equipment, which stays on the front porch so Wayne can load it on the boat before nightfall. He doesn’t bother locking his truck up; There’s no one around for two miles at least.

Steve’s loading things into the fridge and Eddie’s…

“Where’s Ed?” Wayne asks as he grabs his duffel bag to bring to one of the bedrooms.

“Said he wanted to see how cold the water is,” Steve shrugs, shoving the beer to the side so he can make room for Eddie’s Mountain Dew. “Told him it’s probably not that cold since it’s August.”

“Anything less than boiling is too cold for that one,” Wayne chuckles. “I’ll go load the boat.”

He goes out the back door, immediately locating Eddie at the water’s edge. At least he didn’t go far. He was a bit of a flight risk at the best of times and these weren’t really the best of times.

His shoes and socks are off, sitting in the mix of sand and rocks that make up the shoreline. The rocks are smooth, worn down over thousands of years of water and animals and people. Perfect for skipping across the top of the water, splashes disrupting the calm of a lake with few visitors this close to the end of summer.

Wayne showed Eddie how to skip rocks years ago, not on this lake, but a much smaller one that they’d visited for the day the summer before he started high school. It took him about 100 tries before he got it, but when he did, he’d beamed back at Wayne, proud of himself for possibly the first time in his life.

But he’s not skipping rocks now. He’s standing at the shoreline, where the small waves break against the sand, staring out at the horizon. Wayne is tempted to leave him be, but he can’t.

He walks up behind him, makes sure to clear his throat so he isn’t completely startled when Wayne stops right where the water stops. It licks right at the toes of his boots, but they’re his work ones, steel-toe.

Eddie turns and gives him a small smile.

“Sorry, just wanted to dip my feet in.” Eddie apologizes as if Wayne would care that he’s already finding solace in the solitude of the lake.

“Stay out here as long as you want, kid. You okay?” Wayne watches as Eddie’s hands curl into fists and then relax against his thighs.

“Yeah. Thanks for bringing me out here. I’ll help load the boat,” Eddie offers, already turning towards Wayne fully and taking a step out of the water. Wayne holds his hand up to stop him. “What?”

“I got it. You can help pack the cooler in the mornin’.”

Eddie shrugs and turns back to the lake.

Wayne watches him for another minute, silent so he doesn’t disturb whatever thoughts are brewing in Eddie’s head.

As he walks back to the porch to grab the tackle boxes and poles for the boat, he sees Steve watching Eddie out the kitchen window, concerned frown and furrowed brow on his face.

Steve doesn’t notice him.

- - -

The first night is Wayne making dinner while Steve and Eddie argue over which side of the queen sized bed they’re sleeping on. He can’t help but laugh at how quickly it went from calmly suggesting the other person sleeps on the window side to personal insults.

When he hears Eddie say something about Steve’s hair being too big, he shouts for them to join him.

Dinner is relatively peaceful considering the warzone that was their shared bedroom moments before sitting down to eat. Everyone enjoys the chicken and green beans Wayne cooked, barely leaving any for leftovers. They talk about their plans for the morning, and Steve offers to clean up after they eat so Wayne can have an early night.

It’s kind of him, but he already knows their arguing is just gonna wake him up if they haven’t settled on the bed issue.

“How about you take turns sleepin’ by the window?” Wayne asks before agreeing to an early bedtime. “That way it’s fair.”

“But who has to sleep there tonight?” Eddie asks, sticking his tongue out at Steve.

“Rock, paper, scissors?”

“That’s stupid.”

Wayne raises his brow at Eddie’s crossed arms. “Draw straws then.”

“We don’t have straws.” Steve looks around the kitchen, trying to find something they can use in place of straws, but fails. “It’s fine. I’ll take the window.”

Wayne can tell he doesn’t want to, and he’s pretty sure he can guess why neither of them is thrilled with sleeping directly under a window that looks out into a dense forest, but Steve’s a self-sacrificial kind of guy. That’s been clear for as long as Wayne’s known him.

He also knows that Eddie, even as stubborn as he is, wouldn’t let a friend feel uncomfortable.

“I’ll take it tonight.” Eddie offers.

“No, it’s okay. I can take it.”

Wayne rolls his eyes. “Y’all will argue over anything.”

Steve and Eddie both turn to him with matching grins. “Mhm.” They agree in unison.

“Eddie takes window tonight,” Wayne says. “Steve can have it tomorrow night. Whoever catches the biggest fish this weekend gets to pick on the last night.”

“Sounds fair,” Steve nods, turning to Eddie to see if he agrees.

“Sure. Fair.” Eddie stands and starts clearing the drinks from the table.

Wayne decides to leave before he gets dragged into a new disagreement. He’s only got so much patience.

He’s not surprised to hear them go out the back door after the sun sets, voices quiet, but still audible through Wayne’s open bedroom window.

They don’t go far, just past the porch, about halfway to the water.

“You know, my dad would never have done anything like this with me,” Steve states, only a small hint of bitterness in his tone. “He didn’t believe in bonding time or whatever. Thought that was for fathers and sons who didn’t have a family business to maintain.”

“My dad never did either.” Eddie says back, and Wayne’s heart stops in his chest. “Probably couldn’t have stayed sober enough to make the drive to a place like this.”

Wayne waits for Steve to say something, anything. He waits for so long, he’s tempted to look out the window and see if he can see them under the light of the moon.

“Your dad didn’t deserve you,” Steve finally says, quieter than they’d been before, like he didn’t want to disrupt the quiet night with his words. “And you deserved better than him.”

“I had Wayne eventually. I have Wayne now.” Eddie replies just as quietly. “And you do too, ya know.”

Wayne isn’t much of a crier. He’s only done it a handful of times. But Eddie’s words make his eyes well up and his throat burn.

“He barely knows me,” Steve tries to argue.

“He knows enough. You were there for the worst of my shit. You still stick around. You’re here right now even though you could’ve turned down his invitation.” Eddie sounds like he’s holding back tears now. “If you mean a lot to me, you mean a lot to Wayne. You’ll just have to get used to it.”

Wayne wishes he could be a part of this conversation, or at least be able to see them both. He’s respecting their space as much as he can, though. He’s laying in his bed and biting back tears the way any respectful uncle would.

“I’m not used to meaning so much to someone.”

Wayne isn’t sure he hears him right, his voice breaking halfway through, but Steve couldn’t have said anything else.

He should stop listening. This is turning into something else entirely, he thinks. He shouldn’t hear whatever Eddie says next.

“You mean everything to me.”

Wayne closes his eyes, holds his breath, hopes that if Steve takes it the way he knows Eddie means it, that this doesn’t turn into a real fight. He hopes that Steve’s reaction is kind, even if it’s not what Eddie wants.

Wayne’s almost grateful that he can’t hear what Steve says next. Whether it’s rude or loving, he doesn’t want to be a part of this moment like this. He can’t close his window, they’d hear it. He can’t leave his room, he’ll just be in view when they come back inside.

He waits one minute, two, three. He hears a twig snap and then quiet giggling.

He smiles to himself as he hears footsteps heading back towards the cabin.

🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸

Eddie wakes up with Steve’s arms around him and something bubbling in his chest.

Could be heartburn, or it could be the love that’s been growing inside him for months.

He remembers their conversation last night, looking up at the stars and listening to the leaves gently brushing against each other in the breeze, and he can’t help the blush on his cheeks. When Steve kissed him last night, he was pretty sure he was dreaming.

This wasn’t a dream, though.

They stayed up way too late. Eddie knew the moment he looked at the clock as they got into bed and saw 1:48 in bright red that he’d struggle today.

He could hear Wayne moving around the cabin, probably making coffee and breakfast for them since they’d need an early start for fishing. It wasn’t Eddie’s favorite thing to do, but Wayne loved it, and Eddie loved Wayne.

Steve groaned as he moved one arm above his head.

Eddie looks up at him, blushing harder when Steve’s half-lidded eyes are already looking down at him. He’s smiling, cocky if Eddie’s reading him right.

“Sleep okay?” Steve’s sleep-raspy voice asks, fingers gliding across Eddie’s upper arm in unknown patterns.

“Mhm. Not long enough,” Eddie admits. “Could stay in bed.”

Steve hums in agreement before seemingly realizing that Wayne’s already up. “Don’t think we can skip out on Wayne, though.”

This is why Eddie has a hard time pushing his feelings down for Steve. He’s done this before, whether he realizes he did or not.

In the hospital, the day after he’d woken up, Steve had stopped by to bring some clothes for Wayne since he refused to leave Eddie’s side. The kids had apparently been hounding him to take them with him, but he stood his ground and told them that Eddie needed time with just Wayne right now and that he needed rest.

A few weeks later, Steve could’ve easily taken Eddie home by himself, but insisted on waiting for Wayne to get off of work to do it.

Just a week ago, Wayne had forgotten a few things at the store, and when Steve overheard him grumbling about having to make another trip, he offered to go.

That’s just who Steve is.

Eddie loves him for it.

“Yeah. He’d be so bored without me scaring the fish away with my constant humming and leg jiggling,” Eddie agrees seriously. “Wouldn’t want him to miss me.”

Steve lets out a loud laugh, and Eddie hides his pleased smile in Steve’s chest.

He can’t believe he’s doing this right now, can’t believe Steve’s arm tightens around him, pulls him closer so all he can feel and smell is Steve.

“You could just stay quiet while we fish,” Steve suggests, as if Eddie hasn’t thought of that already. “Just for a little bit.”

“That sounds boring.”

Steve pokes Eddie’s cheek with his other hand. Eddie nips at his fingertip before Steve can pull away. They both laugh.

It’s easy.

A knock on the door interrupts the casual cuddling, but Eddie knows it’s not because Steve’s ashamed to be caught with him like that. Steve isn’t used to this being okay.

“You boys up?” Wayne’s voice is barely muffled through the door, something Eddie notes for later.

“Yeah!” Eddie calls back, though he probably didn’t need to speak more than normal volume.

Steve is tense below him. Eddie hates that.

He tries to soothe him by running his hand along his side, memorizing the bumps of his scars, keeping his breathing even so Steve would calm down. Wayne wouldn’t walk in without Eddie telling him he could, but Steve must’ve assumed he didn’t respect his space that much.

“Breakfast is done. Just made eggs and toast.” Wayne knocks once more on the door before they can hear his footsteps walking back to the kitchen.

Steve relaxes and sighs.

“You don’t have to do that.” Eddie still traces along the scar on his hip. “Wayne’s cool.”

“I know.” Steve goes to sit up, but Eddie holds him down. “Eddie, I know. It’s okay. I didn’t mean to react like that.”

“There’s a price to pay before you get up.”

Steve snorts. “And what’s that?”

“A kiss.”

Steve kisses the top of Eddie’s head.

“Unfortunately, I won’t be accepting that form of payment.”

Steve’s hand cups Eddie’s cheek, thumb rubbing slowly as he guides his face up to look at him. Eddie hopes he can’t feel the heat on his skin, but the odds aren’t great.

“One kiss.”

“Only one?” Eddie pouts.

“Don’t wanna get carried away when we’re supposed to be getting up.” Steve leans in until his breath is hot against Eddie’s lips. “So one kiss and then you let me leave so we can go fishing with your uncle.”

“Fine.” Eddie can’t help smiling into the kiss. It’s quicker than he wants, but it’s perfect. When Steve pulls away, Eddie groans and falls flat on his back. “What if we fake sick?”

“You’re ridiculous,” Steve laughs as he gets out of bed and tries to get changed into regular clothes.

Eddie watches him, can’t wipe the smile off his face as Steve nearly trips over his own pant leg. He doesn’t even care if Steve catches him looking, not anymore.

He gets to look now.

After Eddie’s confession last night, after their first kiss, and the second and third, and talking for two hours by the water, it was pretty obvious that they were skipping over that new relationship awkwardness. Eddie hadn’t quite said he loved Steve, and Steve hadn’t said it either, but actions spoke louder than words. The way they couldn’t stop touching, the way Steve looked at Eddie while he talked about his most recent adventure with Dustin, the way Eddie watched Steve throw rocks as far as he could into the depths of the lake, it was all love.

“If you keep looking at me like that, I’m never leaving this room.” Steve is looking at him as he buttons his jeans and Eddie is considering sending Wayne on his own.

He waited months for this, but now it felt like waiting another hour was too much.

“Looking at you like what?” Eddie asks innocently.

“Like you wanna eat me.”

“Well…” Eddie wiggles his eyebrows and taps the bed. “I could eat breakfast in bed if you get back in it.”

Steve walks over to the bed, leans over Eddie, gets close enough to nip at his top lip.

“Get out of bed.” He presses a quick kiss to Eddie’s lips before walking to the door. He leaves it open as he leaves the room without looking back.

Eddie curses Steve’s ability to get him to do anything, and reluctantly gets out of bed. He throws on his shorts, a tank top, and ties his bandana in his hair so he doesn’t have to worry about it sticking to his forehead.

When he gets to the kitchen, Wayne and Steve are staring out the window and whispering.

“I didn’t think we’d see a marsh hawk. Population’s been down for the last decade,” Wayne’s saying as Eddie walks up on his other side. “I’ve only seen one before and that was during a trip to Lake Michigan when I was 14 or 15.”

Eddie looks out the window, trying to see what they see. He’s not sure what a marsh hawk looks like, but he’s assuming it’s one of the birds in the nearby trees.

Steve wordlessly points it out to him.

“That’s a cool bird.” Eddie says at a normal volume. The bird spreads its wings out, acting as if it might take off. It’s beautiful, the white along its beak and chest a stunning contrast to its dark brown wings.

“It’s good luck to see one in some cases,” Wayne whispers as he turns away from the window. “Seeing one on your wedding day is supposed to lead to a long and happy marriage.”

“Too bad no one’s getting married here today,” Eddie remarks as he grabs a plate and starts to scoop eggs onto it.

“Not married. But still good luck,” Steve mutters as he follows Eddie. “So we just have to grab the cooler on our way out?”

Wayne nods. “And the bait.”

“I thought we used plastic stuff.”

“We use lures, but we put worms on there to get the fish to actually bite,” Wayne explains. “I’ve got plenty of stuff for bass, but I dunno how lucky we’ll be.”

Eddie nods along as he takes a huge bite of toast. “One time we forgot worms and had to use hot dogs.”

“Fish eat hot dogs?” Steve asks in surprise.

“Some fish settle for hot dogs. They don’t quite realize ‘til it’s too late that it ain’t their food,” Wayne shrugs. “But we got plenty of worms for this trip. Should be perfect fishing conditions.”

They all ate in silence after that, but Eddie could feel Steve’s nerves building the closer they all got to clean plates.

Steve didn’t have to say it for Eddie to know he desperately wanted to impress Wayne, especially now that they were…something. They probably needed to clarify exactly what they were at some point soon. They would. Eventually. Tonight maybe.

Or tomorrow.

“I’ll clean up if you boys wanna finish getting ready.” Wayne offered as he scraped the last of his eggs onto his fork.

Eddie took him up on his offer, jumping up to go brush his teeth and get his sneakers on.

“You comin’?” He asks Steve, who’s still slowly eating the eggs he drenched in ketchup.

“Just a second,” Steve replies with his mouth full. “You can use the bathroom first.”

Eddie nods and leaves the room.

He hears the sink in the kitchen running a few seconds later, and the hushed voices of Wayne and Steve having a whispered conversation. He could sneak back, try to listen in, but he thinks that maybe Steve needs this minute alone with him.

He finishes what he needs to do quickly, though, and admittedly sneaks back towards the kitchen quieter than he normally would, hoping to overhear something interesting.

But all he walks into is Steve laughing as Wayne smiles back.

Eddie doesn’t find that he minds much, as long as they’re both happy.

🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸

Being on the boat is different as an adult.

The last time Eddie fished with Wayne on a boat, he was barely shoulder height on him and 100 pounds soaking wet. It was a much smaller boat, though, barely fit two grown adults comfortably.

This boat, however, was built for a family of at least four adults. The awning covered half of the boat, so Eddie didn’t have to sit in direct sunlight when the sun finally rose.

Steve stood to the side, watching Wayne prep the lures and bait, casting his own line out and reeling it in until it was taut. Eddie went next, making a show of it just like he always did. Wayne doesn’t comment, just shakes his head and smiles fondly as he watches the water.

“Um,” Steve starts. “I guess it’s my turn.”

Eddie’s pretty sure Wayne knows Steve’s nervous. It’s hard not to tell with how quiet he’s been the entire ride to the middle of the lake.

Wayne sets his pole in the stand at the stern, and turns to Steve with his hands on his hips. “You saw how I cast mine?”

Steve nods, but doesn’t look sure. Eddie’s not really used to seeing Steve anything less than confident, even in the face of monsters.

It hits him the moment he thinks about monsters.

They’re on a lake. A lake very similar, though much larger, to the same lake that almost dragged Steve to his death. A lake he’d previously trusted, and no longer could.

Eddie doesn’t say anything, just subtly places his hand against Steve’s hip, offering whatever comfort he can. Steve won’t admit he’s scared, but Eddie doesn’t need him to.

Wayne sees it, Eddie knows he does. But because he’s the best uncle, he doesn’t say anything.

He raises a brow and then schools his features back to a comforting smile before showing Steve how to hold the pole so he can cast it comfortably and far enough out that movements from the boat don’t scare the fish from the hook.

Eddie watches, and he sees the nerves slowly easing from Steve’s shoulders, his forehead, and his arms. He relaxes inch by inch, and Eddie couldn’t be more in love.

Wayne steps back so Steve can cast his line.

When the bobber hits the water, Wayne smiles and pats his shoulder. “Good job, son. Now reel it in a bit so you can feel if something bites. Good. Now we just wait.”

Steve turns red at the praise and Eddie realizes that Steve probably hasn’t heard a “good job” from an adult in a very, very long time.

Eddie’s childhood was fucked, but at least Wayne was there cheering him on, showing him what it meant to be proud of your kid eventually. He’s pretty sure Steve hasn’t had that for most of his life.

“How long do we wait?” Steve asks after a few minutes.

The lake is near silent, and the water is so smooth it looks like glass. If Eddie leaned over, he’d probably be able to see his reflection. The gentle lapping of water on the side of the boat and the distant sound of birds in the trees lining the water’s edge fills the air.

“I usually give it 10 or 15 minutes before reeling it in. Check my bait, maybe change the lure if there’s no bites.” Wayne’s watching the end of Steve’s line as he speaks. “I used bass lures on all of ours, but we might change them up in a minute. See what else is out there.”

Steve nods and turns back.

Wayne doesn’t take his eyes off of Steve’s bobber.

Eddie watches Wayne curiously.

Anytime he’s fished with Wayne, he’s left Eddie to his own devices after showing him what to do. He watches his own line, and only steps in to help if Eddie catches something and doesn’t wanna touch the fish.

Wayne’s eyes widen just as Steve exclaims, “Hey! Look!”

“Reel it in!” Wayne shouts, setting his pole down again and rushing to stand next to Steve.

Eddie turns and watches as Steve reels in whatever he’s caught. Judging by the bend in the pole, it’s a decent sized fish.

“Shit, what if it breaks?” Steve asks, voice shaking with the effort of trying to reel in the fish before it escapes.

“It won’t. Keep going.”

When they manage to get the fish out of the water and into the boat, Steve is breathless.

“Look at that!” Wayne holds up the line, right above where the hook is caught in the fish’s mouth, beaming at Steve. “Our boy got himself a king salmon!”

Ignoring his mention of “our” boy, Eddie steps closer and grips Steve’s shoulder, shaking him just enough to make the boat rock.

“How can you tell?” Steve asks Wayne, reaching out to hold the fish up himself.

“You see all these black spots on his back and fins?” Wayne points at a few of the spots. “Other salmon don’t have this many spots or any at all. You keepin’ him or throwin’ him back?”

Steve looks at Eddie, smile falling as he suddenly looks unsure about what the right thing to do is. Before Eddie can say anything, Wayne wraps his arm around Steve’s shoulders.

“Either is fine with me. Could cook him up for supper if you wanna keep him or send him back to his friends with a new piercing.” Wayne looks over at Eddie. “Eddie ain’t much for seafood, but I make a mean baked salmon.”

Steve nods. “Yeah, think I’ll keep this one.”

Wayne pats his shoulder again before showing him how to unhook the fish safely. He opens up the empty cooler he brought and places the fish inside.

Wayne moves to grab the bait so Steve can set up again, and while his back is turned, Eddie takes a chance.

He leans over and kisses the corner of Steve’s mouth.

“You’re a natural,” Eddie whispers as he leans away again.

“Shut up.” Steve is blushing that same pretty pink that he was last night and earlier this morning. Eddie can’t look away. “Just lucky.”

Wayne catches two rainbow trout and Eddie manages to catch a small northern pike, which quickly gets thrown back when Eddie starts to make up a story about how it’s a teenager who got separated from its parents. Wayne shakes his head as Eddie carries on, but he’s used to it. Eddie never keeps his catch if he’s lucky enough to have one.

They relax as the day warms up, popping open cans of soda as the sun gets closer to the middle of the sky. It’s not about fishing anymore; It’s about soaking up the tranquility of their surroundings.

Eddie isn’t known for being still or quiet, but even he can let himself enjoy this. Every day since March has been about survival, and appointments, and witness statements, and lawyers, and moving, and the kids. He feels like he’s barely even had time to think.

So while he sits on this boat with two of his favorite people, he thinks.

He thinks about how different his life is now, and how different it could still be.

He thinks about how much Wayne has sacrificed for him for most of his life, but especially the last five months.

He thinks about how much he wants to tell Steve he loves him.

He thinks he’ll tell him tonight.

📼📼📼📼📼

Steve sits on the porch while Wayne cleans the fish, staying a good distance away so he doesn’t end up seeing things that’ll make him wish he left the poor salmon in the lake. Eddie’s inside doing god knows what.

He’s never been happier.

He does wish Robin could be here, but she hates the outdoors. She didn’t even like going on her family’s beach trip last month.

Plus, he’s pretty sure he wouldn’t have been able to have the alone time he needed with Eddie last night if she were here. Even though she’s been telling him to just talk to him for the last three months, she wouldn’t have caught on to his plan.

Feeling this much for Eddie isn’t new.

After the events of spring break, Steve took a long, hard look at high school and realized that at least part of the reason he was always staring at Eddie was because he was very interested. He started looking for any excuse to stick around in Eddie’s hospital room, and then offered to take him to appointments, and it continued from there.

Now, they hang out almost every day. Sometimes it’s with the kids, sometimes with Robin, sometimes alone.

Steve realizes that even before they kissed and fell asleep holding each other and flirted as much as possible all day, this was the best relationship he’s ever had. He needs to tell Eddie as soon as they’re alone.

“All done,” Wayne says as he steps onto the porch, the container of cleaned fish in his hand. “You ready to learn the secret to makin’ the best fish?”

Steve is quick to nod, excited that Wayne thinks he’s even worth the time it’ll take to show him. Wayne’s been so kind this entire trip, making sure Steve is involved and welcomed, makes him feel like he belongs in their little family.

As Wayne grabs everything they’ll need, Steve sees Eddie through their bedroom door, writing in a journal, tongue poking between his lips as he concentrates. Steve’s never seen this journal, but he can assume it’s another one of his many already filled with songs and campaign ideas.

“You done starin’ at Ed?” Wayne’s voice is quiet behind him, but still makes him jump with surprise.

“Wasn’t staring at him. Thought I saw a…um…bug?” Steve knows he’s been caught halfway through trying to lie, so he moves on. “Ready?”

“Are you?” Wayne raises a brow and smirks.

“Yes!” Steve puts his hands on his hips. “What are you implying?”

“Mostly that you’re too in love with my nephew to focus on what I’m sayin’.”

Steve feels heat in his cheeks, but he chooses to ignore it and pretend that he can distract Wayne from what he’s saying.

“So we’re frying your fish and baking my salmon?” Steve starts holding up some of the spices Wayne’s set out on the counter. He can feel Wayne’s eyes on him. “Looks like you like spice.”

“Steve.” Wayne sighs. “It’s okay to feel however you feel. I ain’t gonna judge.”

“Right. Yeah.” Steve turns to finally look at Wayne, who looks sad. He shouldn’t look sad right now.

“Eddie ever tell ya about Paul?” Wayne starts filling one pan with oil and the other with a few small pads of butter.

Steve shakes his head, watching closely.

“Paul was my boyfriend when Ed first came to live with me.”

Steve’s eyes widen as that hits him.

“Woulda been my husband had we been able to be married.” Wayne starts mixing flour, salt, and pepper in a bowl while he talks. “He was a long haul truck driver. Gone for weeks at a time. Stayed with me when he passed through. Came home one day to Eddie asleep in the bed we usually shared and asked if I’d been up to something.”

Wayne smiles fondly down at the bowl of eggs, buttermilk, lemon juice, and garlic he’d started mixing together as he spoke.

“Told him everything. Expected him to call it quits. He didn’t sign up for raising a troubled kid, especially not one who may not be okay with what we had.” Wayne stops and looks up at Steve. “But he just hugged me and said he’d follow my lead. Whatever was best for Ed was what was best for us. Ain’t sure I could ever find a love like that again.”

Steve can feel tears trying to form in his eyes, but he manages to bite them back. He’s pretty sure he knows where this is going, but he listens without interrupting.

“Ed didn’t take too well to him at first. Probably ‘cause he was in and out so much, didn’t get time to bond with him like I did. Paul was patient. Always so patient with both of us.” Wayne shakes his head and looks down at the counter before he looks up smiling again. “Ed came out to Paul first, ya know? When he was 13. He’d gone on a short haul with him over the summer and when they came back, they were thick as thieves. Paul told me that night that Ed had told him he liked boys and it changed their entire relationship. I was Uncle Wayne, but Paul was like a dad to him. Definitely more than his own dad ever was.”

Wayne looked over to check that Eddie was still in the bedroom, distracted by his writing.

“Paul started taking short hauls instead of long ones. Only gone three or four days at a time instead of 14-20. Thought it was so he could be close to Ed, since we’d kinda become our own little family.”

Steve realizes he’s holding his breath when Wayne sniffs.

“He’d gotten sick and didn’t tell us. Started out thinkin’ it was pneumonia, but it got worse. Doctor thought it was heart problems, but it was everywhere. Leukemia. Untreatable by the time they figured it out.”

Steve’s wrapping his arms around Wayne before he even realizes he’s doing it, letting the tears fall as he thinks about how much pain Wayne and Eddie must’ve gone through to lose someone so important to them.

“Ed was barely 14 when he passed. I think he took it harder than me.”

Steve can’t even imagine. Wayne lost someone he loved, but Eddie lost a father figure after losing his real father to things he should never have had to compete with. And now Eddie’s father was really dead.

All he really has is Wayne.

“Kid shaved his head in solidarity when Paul lost what little hair he had left,” Wayne huffs a wet laugh as they pull away from each other. “Couldn’t believe it when I got home from work and they were both bald as cue balls. Thought they’d lost it.”

Steve and Wayne are both laughing, and it’s probably going to draw Eddie’s attention, but he kinda hopes it does. He could use Eddie’s closeness right now. He needs to see that he’s okay, that this didn’t completely destroy him, that he went on anyway.

But all Eddie does is yell at them to keep it down, which just makes them laugh harder.

“And you never dated anyone else?” Steve asks as Wayne starts putting his fishin the egg mixture. “Not even for fun?”

“Nah. Once Paul was gone, I had to work more to pay the bills. What little time I had was spent with Ed. He was my priority, always.”

Steve wipes the tears from his cheeks as he watches Wayne drop the fish into the hot oil.

“What about now?” Eddie was busy with his own life now, and they’d received enough money from the government to cover their new trailer and have plenty leftover to cover bills. Wayne was retired and had plenty of time to start dating again.

“I got lucky with Paul. It ain’t fair to compare any future relationship to what we had and I think that’s all I’d do. I’m happy the way things are for now.”

Steve drops it for now, but he makes a note to ask Eddie about it soon. He’s surprised Eddie never mentioned Paul, or even the fact that Wayne was gay, especially when he came out to Steve and Robin while he was still in the hospital.

Wayne goes on to explain how long he keeps the fish in the oil before flipping them to make sure the cooking is even, and how putting them onto paper towels to cool drains too much of the grease.

As Steve watches him prep the salmon with a glaze he made from garlic, honey, and lemon juice, Eddie finally comes out of the bedroom.

“Smells like fish,” he says with a grin.

“That’d be the fish.” Wayne doesn’t even bother looking over at him as he leans against the counter. “Salmon is already a tender fish, so you can bake it to whatever you prefer. It should only take about 10 minutes on 400 unless you like it extra crispy, then you may wanna do it for 13 minutes.”

“Chef Wayne teaching you everything you need to know?” Eddie asks Steve, stepping close enough for Steve to feel the heat coming from his body.

“He’s pretty talented. Might need to consider opening a restaurant,” Steve teases.

“Wait ‘til you have his steak. So tender you could cut it with a spoon.”

“Don’t know what you’re after with your compliments, but I’d rather ya just ask for it.” Wayne checked the clock as he closed the oven door.

“I was just bein’ nice!” Eddie exclaims, throwing his arms up in frustration. Steve never noticed how Eddie’s accent changes the more time he spends around Wayne, but he smiles to himself when it slips now. “See if I give ya a compliment again, old man.”

Steve watches as they banter back and forth some more, both of them smiling and laughing the entire time.

It’s nothing like what Steve was used to. His parents never bantered, only fought. Anything that was big enough for discussion, was big enough to yell about. As Steve got older, he learned that staying quiet and letting them get it out would usually turn out better for him. Luckily, once he reached middle school, they didn’t bother coming home enough for him to worry about what to do when they were arguing.

He doesn’t remember a time when there was fun and laughter between them, not even when he was a young child. He can remember his mom dancing with him while his dad was gone on business trips, but the moment he arrived home, the air became thick with tension and her attitude became somber. He remembers one time when his dad let him sit on his desk while he worked, making paper airplanes and having a competition to see how far they could fly, but the moment the phone rang, he was hissing a ‘get out’ with no explanation for the abrupt stop to the fun.

Steve couldn’t imagine talking to either of his parents the way Eddie talks to Wayne, but he also couldn’t imagine receiving the love from them that Wayne so easily gives to Eddie.

And now that he knows another piece of their story, he can see how they’ve come to be like this, comfortable with each other in ways many kids never are with their parents.

Steve’s mind continues to wander throughout dinner, but no one calls him out on it. Maybe Wayne somehow communicated with Eddie that they’d had a serious conversation. Maybe it was just obvious that Steve was far away from the table. Eddie and Wayne chattered as they ate, and Steve let the constant echoes of their voices be the background noise to his thoughts.

“Stevie?” Eddie’s hand touched his cheek, shaking him out of the path he was lost on. “Wayne’s gonna take a walk. You wanna go?”

Steve smiles up at Eddie before looking down at his plate. He barely remembers eating, but he only has a few small pieces of salmon left.

“Sounds good.”

Eddie looks concerned, but Steve brushes him off. He looks around, and when he doesn’t see Wayne in the room with them, turns his face so he can kiss Eddie’s palm.

“Should we grab the bug spray?” Steve asks as he stands, pushing in his chair and grabbing his plate off the table to wash it.

“Wayne’s got it outside. Think he put enough on for all of us,” Eddie follows close behind Steve. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah. Just thinking.”

“About?”

“A lot.” Steve brushes it off so they can join Wayne. “Ready?”

Eddie nods and leads the way out of the cabin.

They ate an early dinner, so the sun is still high in the sky as they make their way down a trail that follows the lake’s edge. Eddie occasionally gets distracted by colorful rocks, holding them up excitedly for Steve and Wayne to acknowledge.

Steve knows the love he has for Eddie is written all over his face.

He doesn’t care to hide it.

Wayne’s quiet as they walk, occasionally pointing out a fish splashing in the distance or a heron standing in the water. He swats a mosquito away from Steve’s face, only for the mosquito to turn around and bite his hand. Eddie’s far too busy climbing over fallen limbs and branches of trees to notice what they’re doing.

“You boys should go for a swim when we get back. Water’s cool.” Wayne makes the suggestion without looking at Steve, who suddenly feels like he’s being studied under a microscope.

“Not sure if Eddie even brought a swimsuit.” Steve laughs it off, hopes they can go back to silence or change the subject.

“I’m sure you boys could figure something out.”

Thankfully, the topic gets dropped and Steve is left wondering if Wayne knows.

Sure, he joked about Steve being in love with Eddie earlier, but that wasn’t a confirmation that he knew they were together. He thought they’d been careful today, but maybe Wayne caught them when they kissed by the truck when Eddie was grabbing his wallet from the glovebox.

He doesn’t have time to think about it more because Eddie lets out a yelp and they can only watch as he falls on his ass into a muddy spot between two large rocks.

“I hate the outdoors,” he grumbles as he stands.

Wayne is laughing, but Steve is rushing over to make sure he’s okay.

“Are you hurt?” Steve’s hands are hovering over him, trying to figure out if he sees any blood. “Did you hit your head?”

“I’m fine, sweetheart,” Eddie replies quietly, holding his arms out as if trying to show proof. “My dignity may be a bit bruised.”

They’re interrupted by the hooting of an owl. It’s loud enough that Wayne shushes them and starts looking around at the trees surrounding them, trying to locate the creature.

It hoots again before Wayne locates it, pointing to a tree only ten feet away and to their right.

“Wow.” Steve says as he gets a close look at it, the white and tan feathers blending into beautiful patterns. “It’s so small. I thought owls were bigger.”

Eddie’s looking up at it, smiling.

To Steve’s shock, he’s the one who responds, not Wayne.

“It’s a northern saw-whet owl. They’re closer to the size of a robin than an owl you may be thinking of.” Eddie reaches for Steve’s hand and squeezes it once before letting it drop. “Paul taught me about all kinds of owls.”

Steve’s head snaps towards him. “You heard us this morning, didn’t you?”

“You weren’t quiet,” Eddie shrugged. “I used to be obsessed with nocturnal animals. He bought me a book about bats and owls for Christmas and went through it page by page with me.”

“I remember that book,” Wayne looks at the owl while he talks. “Paul said it made him nervous to go out at night.”

Eddie laughs. “He was convinced we’d get attacked.”

Steve can’t blame him. The longer he looks at the owl’s impossibly large eyes and spread wings, the more he believes he’s being hunted.

“Ready to head back?” Wayne asks after another minute, drawing his attention away.

“Wish I had a camera like Byers. Probably could get a good picture.” Eddie says as he starts to walk back the way they came.

Steve takes note to ask Jonathan about his so he can get him one for Christmas.

When they make it back to the cabin, Wayne excuses himself to take a shower and do a crossword before bed, which leaves Steve and Eddie to fill their time however they want. Steve thinks back to Wayne’s suggestion about going for a swim, but he’s not sure Eddie would want to now that the sun’s almost set.

He’s not even sure he wants to get into the lake after dark.

But it does sound appealing, especially with the layer of damp sweat coating his skin from their walk. And there is a light on the dock that would make it easier to at least see each other.

“Wanna go for a swim?” Steve asks Eddie as he sips on a soda.

“Now?” Eddie looks out the window in the kitchen, frowning at the darkness looming.

“Now.”

“It’s dark.”

“We can turn on the light at the dock. C’mon. Just a quick dip,” Steve nudges his shoulder as he starts walking to the back door, fully dressed.

“You’re not gonna change?” Eddie asks in disbelief.

“Don’t plan on wearing my clothes in.” Steve winks as he leaves, knowing Eddie will follow him even if he’s hesitant to do so.

Within seconds, the back door is closing and Eddie is on his heels.

“Are we seriously skinny dipping in the lake while my uncle is here?” Eddie hisses out, hand covering Steve’s forearm.

“I’m skinny dipping. You can do whatever you want,” Steve responds. “But I wouldn’t complain if you joined me.”

Eddie huffs beside him, but still follows him the rest of the way to the water’s edge. The light has a covered power switch to their right, but now that they’re in an open area by the water, they realize the moon is pretty bright.

Steve starts stripping off his shirt, then his shoes and socks. Eddie watches, probably trying to decide if he’s gonna join him or go back inside and pretend Steve isn’t naked in the water. When Steve pulls his pants off, Eddie sighs and starts untying his boots.

“Can’t believe you have me getting into another lake. Wasn’t the first time enough?” Eddie’s grumbling loud enough for Steve to hear, but quiet enough that Steve only catches every couple of words and has to use context clues for the rest. He can’t hold back a smile when he shoves his underwear down and leaves them on top of his pile of clothes.

Eddie is still grumbling as he removes his own clothes, enough that he’s distracting himself from realizing Steve’s already naked and waiting for him.

When he looks up, his eyes widen and his jaw drops open.

“You’re gonna catch flies like that,” Steve steps closer as he speaks, feeling more nervous than he expected to. “Probably should get in so the mosquitos don’t get us.”

“Right.” Eddie shakes his head, closing his eyes so he can focus. “Yes. Let’s get in.”

Steve grabs his hand and walks them both to the water. The water is chilly, but not uncomfortably cold. He knows in the next few weeks, the temperature will drop enough at night to cause the lake to be freezing cold. But right now, it’s perfect.

Being here with Eddie is perfect.

Eddie breathes out slowly as they keep walking further in, squeezing Steve’s hand.

“All good?” Steve asks when they’re waist deep.

“Yep. All good. How uh…how far do you wanna go?” Eddie’s looking out at what little they can see of the lake, even with the moonlight glistening off the tiny waves of the lake.

“Just a little more.”

Steve doesn’t take Eddie’s trust for granted here, knows that he’s asking a lot of him.

When the water is just below his collarbone, he stops.

Eddie is tense next to him, but doesn’t seem to be panicking.

“Okay?” Steve asks.

Eddie looks around and then settles back on Steve. “I’m okay.”

Something about the way he says it makes Steve pause, though.

“You can let it out if you need to, baby,” he offers. He’s not sure what it is specifically that makes him think Eddie’s on the edge of tears, but he wants to give him the chance to cry. “I’m right here.”

Eddie doesn’t sob, or cry, or do anything for a minute. They’re both looking out at the dark lake and the moon above, listening to crickets and a gentle breeze in the leaves of the trees nearby. Eddie’s breathing just stops for a few seconds and that’s all the warning Steve gets before he’s sniffling and talking.

“My dad was a piece of shit,” he starts. Steve is gonna follow his lead, and listen, and let Eddie tell him whatever he wants to. Even if that’s all he says. “He hated me. Pretty sure he hated my mom towards the end of her life, too. Anything that put attention on someone other than him was no good. That’s why he got involved with the closest thing Hawkins had to a mafia.”

Steve rubs his thumb against the side of Eddie’s hand under the water, prompting him to continue.

“He ranked pretty high with them so he got plenty of attention. Forgot that he had a wife and a kid. When my mom died, he temporarily got more attention from everyone. Made sure he looked like the mourning husband trying to be strong for the son he barely knew. Even at four and five years old I knew he was full of shit. But at least he was taking me with him sometimes, showing me cool shit. He got arrested when I was seven for petty theft and possession of drugs. Got lucky that the judge believed his sob story of being the only one who could take care of me.” Eddie scoffed. “Paid a fine with money he stole and had to do 80 hours of community service that his boss signed off on after a few weeks. Didn’t care that the only meals I ate were at school and the neighbor’s house when she saw me alone for dinner. Didn’t care that I never had school supplies or clothes that fit. Didn’t care that I missed school anytime I missed the bus, which was often because he never gave me an alarm clock to set to get up in time.”

Steve wants to cry, hearing how shitty Eddie’s childhood was, but he refuses to right now. He doesn’t want Eddie to stop talking.

“When I was nine, he taught me how to steal a car. I could barely see over the steering wheel, but it was the first time I made him proud.” Eddie clears his throat. “He got sent to prison when I was 11. I got put in the system because everything is a mess and Wayne wasn’t even listed as my uncle anywhere. Wayne heard about it all a few weeks later and didn’t stop pushing to have me in his care until they gave in. I’m surprised they put up so much of a fight considering they don’t usually care that much about poor kids with shit parents. Wayne fought for me and I didn’t even know how much he did until I was older.”

Steve glances over to see tears falling down Eddie’s face. He let go of Eddie’s hand to wrap his arm around his waist instead, pulling him against his side.

“He didn’t have to do that. He just knew what a piece of shit my dad was and apparently checked on me a few times a year without me or him knowing. And he told you about Paul.” Steve nods. “Paul was in and out a lot at first, made me suspicious. Thought he was up to no good and just using Wayne as a place to sleep when he wasn’t in the truck. But then he took me with him a few times over the summer and we got closer. I don’t think Wayne even knows how much that man loved him. He was gonna start working more local jobs sooner until I came into the picture and Wayne was struggling to keep up with bills. Long haul makes more money, so he stayed out. Made sure I had clothes and school supplies, made sure I ate three meals a day and had whatever snacks I wanted. Sent payments to the electric company before Wayne even got the bill so I never had to worry about sleeping through alarms or not being able to take a hot shower.”

Steve didn’t realize he was crying until Eddie reached his thumb up to wipe away a tear.

“He was my father in the ways that mattered to me, just like Wayne has been. Losing him was more painful than anything I feel about my dad dying now. All I feel now is guilt that I feel anything at all.”

Steve uses the arm wrapped around Eddie’s waist and the weightlessness the water allows to lift him up and guide his legs around his waist. He’s looking up at the man he loves, holding the back of his thighs, and wishing he could take every shitty feeling away with his words of comfort.

“You can feel however you feel. I’ll love you through it all,” Steve reassures him. Eddie’s breath catches at his words, and Steve knows he chose the right thing to say at the right time. “No one who cares about you is gonna judge you for having any emotion about your dad dying. If you wanted to stand in the middle of a table in the cafeteria at the school and cheer, I’d sit at the table and cheer you on. If you want to show up at his grave and scream and cry, I’ll hold your hand the whole time. So will Wayne. And so would Paul.”

Eddie sobs as he wraps his arms around Steve’s neck and hides his face against Steve’s neck. Steve can feel the wetness of his tears, can feel his own still falling into the water below. He doesn’t care how long they stay like that, doesn’t even care if this is all they do all night.

But only a few minutes later, Eddie is pulling back and looking down at Steve, hands playing with the wet ends of his hair.

“I didn’t expect any of this this weekend,” he admits. “I should learn to stop having expectations.”

Steve’s lips turn up in a half-smile as Eddie rests his forehead against his. “Better or worse than what you expected?”

Eddie snorts. “Better. Always better with you.”

Steve’s glad it’s dark enough to hide his blush, but he’s sure Eddie knows what he does to him by now. If he doesn’t, he will soon enough.

Eddie traces a line along Steve’s neck, gently poking at his moles as he watches his own movements. Steve holds him, lets him do what he wants, feels every touch like lightning.

“I love you,” he finally says, barely more than a whisper, like he’s unsure it’s okay, even after Steve’s confession. “I think I have for a while.”

Steve wants to kiss him, but this moment still feels like a part of Eddie’s monologue. He wants Eddie to lead now, to show him how to love him. Whatever he needs, Steve will give it willingly and gladly.

“How long until Wayne comes to make sure we didn’t drown?” Eddie asks.

“Probably not unless we’re still gone by morning.”

“As lovely as being in your arms all night sounds, I don’t know if I’d wanna stay in the water that long,” Eddie laughs as his legs tighten around Steve’s waist. Their mostly soft cocks brush against each other, making them both inhale loudly. “A little longer might not be so bad, though.”

Steve’s finding it harder not to kiss him, not to let his hands wander from Eddie’s thighs, up to his waist, back to his ass. He resists, but Eddie shifts his weight again and everything gets harder.

“You’re killing me.” Steve groans, letting his head fall back so he can look up at the stars in the sky instead of the ones in Eddie’s eyes.

“Look at me.” Eddie’s tone’s shifted to something serious, still adorned with an affection Steve can’t believe he gets to hear. Steve looks at him with his lips parted and unblinking eyes. “I wanna be yours. Will you let me?”

Steve nods. That’s all he can do.

Eddie’s lips are against his, gently coaxing them apart further so he can slip his tongue inside. Steve’s not even thinking about how he hasn’t brushed his teeth or eaten a mint since supper, the warmth of Eddie’s hands circling behind his back and rubbing his shoulders enough of a distraction even without his tongue gliding against the roof of his mouth.

Eddie’s hands are slow, but on a very clear path downwards as his tongue traces Steve’s bottom lip. Steve lets his own hands slip to Eddie’s lower back, lets a finger trace up and back down his spine.

Eddie shivers in his arms.

“Cold?” Steve whispers.

Eddie shakes his head. “Feels good.”

So Steve does it again, with more pressure, hoping Eddie gets the hint.

When Eddie’s hips grind forward, he knows he did.

They’re both nearly fully hard now, lips meeting again, hungrier and biting. Their moans vibrate between their chests, every movement rippling the water around them.

Eddie’s rocking his hips back and forth, friction against their cocks not quite enough to do more than get them more worked up.

The water doesn’t feel cool anymore, Steve’s body already adjusted to the temperature the moment Eddie’s hands were on him.

“Can I touch you?” Eddie asks, bringing Steve out of his thoughts about doing this in his pool when they got home. His hand is flat against Steve’s stomach, fingertips dragging through his happy trail.

“Want you to feel good too, love,” Steve trails one of his hands to Eddie’s front, stopping for a moment on the angry scars covering his side. “Together?”

Eddie slides impossibly closer, wrapping his hand around both of their cocks at once. Steve’s legs would’ve buckled without the help of the lake holding him up.

“Together is good,” Eddie smirks as his hand works them both over, squeezing at the tip the way Steve likes.

Steve had every intention of helping, but he’s doing all he can to keep his feet on the sandy ground and Eddie’s legs wrapped around his waist. He whimpers as Eddie leans in to kiss him slowly, a contradiction to his hand speeding up around them.

“Eddie, I’m…close.” Steve pants against his lips when he pulls back for air. His toes are curling in the sand below, and the small waves around them are splashing against their necks as Eddie’s hand moves faster. Steve’s bucking up into his touch, doesn’t care how desperate he seems.

“Me too, Stevie.” Eddie reassures him, just as breathless as Steve is.

Despite the words spoken and the increasing heat coiling in his belly, Steve gasps in surprise when he comes. He’s even more surprised when Eddie is right behind him, whispering Steve’s name repeatedly as his grip around them tightens then loosens.

Chests heaving, legs shaking, they stare at each other in the glow of the moonlight.

“I normally last a lot longer,” Steve breaks the silence.

Eddie breaks into loud laughter, head falling onto Steve’s shoulder before he realizes that the water is too high to do that without getting wet. He drops his legs and stands, keeping his arms wrapped around Steve’s waist for stability.

“New record for me, too, baby.”

“Next time, we’ll take our time.” Steve promises not only Eddie, but himself. He knows he has better self control than what Eddie just witnessed.

“You wanna head inside and take our time there?” Eddie’s smirking at him, fingers playfully teasing his sides under the water.

“Not sure I can be quiet enough.”

“Even if you bite a pillow?” Eddie pouts.

“I can be pretty loud,” Steve laughs, poking his bottom lip back to normal. “Plus, I’d like to be in one of our own beds when we ma- have sex.”

“Oh my god. Were you gonna say make love?” Eddie is squeezing his arms around him, lifting Steve up so most of his chest is out of the water. Steve’s hands rest against his shoulders, fingertips pruned from being in the water for a while.

“Maybe I was.” Steve knows he’s a sap. He doesn’t care if Eddie thinks it’s silly or stupid, but he does wanna avoid blowing this before it even has a chance to begin.

Eddie must see something in his eyes to keep him from pushing it more. He lets him back down slowly, soft smile on his face.

“I love that you care that much.” Eddie kisses the corner of Steve’s mouth. “I promise we’ll hold off on making love until we’re back home.”

Steve smiles shyly back at him.

“But I wouldn’t be opposed to getting my mouth on you after we shower.”

Steve smacks Eddie’s arm and rolls his eyes.

“You’re ridiculous. I love you.”

“You really do, don’t you?” Eddie sounds awestruck, like it’s suddenly hit him that this is happening, that Steve feels this much for him.

“I really do.”

🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸

Waking up in Steve’s arms for the second morning in a row felt too good to be true.

Most of this trip had felt too good to be true. Last night definitely felt like a dream.

He lets his eyes track over Steve’s bare chest, his neck, his lips pouting out as he sleeps. His eyelids are fluttering, but he’s still asleep, probably coming out of a dream.

Eddie’s fingers trace what’s left of the scar around his neck, touch light enough that Steve wouldn’t feel it in his sleep. He thinks about Steve’s bravery, how he dived head first into everything, be it protecting people from monsters or falling in love. Eddie knows Steve went without medical care after most run-ins in the Upside Down, and had only gotten some last time when Wayne insisted he do so while Eddie was in surgery.

The neck scars faded after they were patched up by a nurse, but many of his other wounds were deeper and infected, leaving a permanent reminder on his back and sides much like Eddie’s.

He traced along the outer lines of one of the scars shaped like a heart on his chest. Steve insisted it was just a weird oval, but Eddie insisted that it was a heart over his heart.

His chest hair has grown back in around it, nearly covering it up if you didn’t look close enough.

Eddie is close enough now.

It’s definitely a heart.

“Not sure how I feel about you staring at my chest that close,” Steve’s raspy voice fills his ear and he looks up to see Steve’s sleepy eyes looking at him. “Max at least had the decency to look from a distance.”

“Ha.” Eddie fake laughs. “I was just admiring your bountiful chest hair and the heart you wear on your sleeve.”

“It’s not a heart,” Steve groans as he covers Eddie’s head with his arms, pulling him on top of him. “You’re just blinded by love.”

“Who knew I’d be the optimist in this relationship?” Eddie breathes against Steve’s lips.

“Probably everyone who’s ever seen me in a relationship.” Steve kisses him quick, just a peck. “Let me up.”

“You’re the one who put me here.” Eddie doesn’t move. “Take me with you if you need to go so badly.”

“Eds, c’mon. I gotta brush my teeth.”

“So do I.”

Steve sighs. Eddie smiles.

“Fine.”

As Steve stands from the bed, Eddie wraps his legs around his waist, a mirror image to their time in the lake. Eddie’s not actually expecting Steve to carry him more than a few steps, but he blushes when he makes it all the way to the bedroom door.

“Still wanna come with me?” Steve raises his eyebrows like he knows Eddie didn’t expect him to take it this far.

“Can you seriously carry me down the hall?”

Steve stares blankly back at him. “I carried you for almost a mile when we got out of the Upside Down.”

“Touché.”

Steve manages to open the door with one hand before it goes back to Eddie’s leg, hoisting him up further so he has a better grip. Eddie just stares down at Steve’s face in amazement.

“Hey Wayne,” Steve says as they pass Wayne’s room. “Sleep okay?”

“Uh huh. There a reason you’re carrying the prince?” Wayne asks, causing Eddie to turn his head and scowl. “Wake up grumpy?”

“Woke up lazy.” Steve responded as he continued on the journey to the bathroom.

Once there, Steve set Eddie down on the floor and handed him his toothbrush. They brush their teeth together, smiling when they catch each other's eye in the mirror.

“Will you kiss me for real now?” Eddie asks after they’ve finished.

“Are you gonna walk to the kitchen by yourself or will I have to carry you?” Steve retorts.

“Your kiss will give me the power to make it.”

Steve snorts a laugh and leans in, his palm resting against Eddie’s jaw to pull him the last inch or so. The kiss is nothing like their back and forth. Steve consumes him, and Eddie lets him.

He doesn’t know how long they stand there, but he thinks it must be longer than they should.

Wayne clears his throat from the doorway. “Didn’t realize this was a part of brushin’ teeth these days.”

Eddie leaps away from Steve, panicked at the thought of Wayne knowing suddenly. He’s been out to Wayne for so long, he forgets that others probably aren’t comfortable being so open. Steve especially, who’s mentioned before that he wasn’t sure if he wanted to come out to everyone until he was sure they’d be okay with it.

“Relax, Ed. I clocked Steve months ago.” Wayne pushes past them to grab his toothbrush and toothpaste. “Move your relations outta here.”

“Relations?” Eddie gags. “Way to ruin the moment.”

“Sorry to ruin your delicate sensibilities. Get out.”

Steve pushes Eddie out of the small bathroom before he can respond. Eddie decides to focus on Steve’s hands on him instead of arguing further.

“Should we make breakfast?” Steve asks as they walk back to the bedroom to get dressed.

“I shouldn’t ever touch an oven, but I’ll watch you lovingly while you make breakfast, darling,” Eddie bats his eyelashes at Steve, who throws his shirt at him. “That’s not very nice. Did I not, and I quote, suck the soul-“

Steve’s hand covers his mouth while he sputters to cover Eddie’s voice from traveling out of the room.

“Jesus, the mouth on you.”

“That’s what you said last night.” Eddie’s words are muffled under Steve’s hand, but they both laugh. “I can make toast.”

“I’ll make the rest.”

Eddie spends the morning touching Steve as much as possible.

He spends the afternoon sneaking kisses and holding him in the hammock set up on the porch thanks to Wayne’s creativity.

He spends the evening watching Wayne and Steve fish while he drinks a beer and hands them whatever they need.

This is a peace that may only last until they leave tomorrow, but something tells him that this is only the beginning of a future Eddie never could’ve pictured for himself.

🎣🎣🎣🎣🎣🎣

five years later

Wayne slams the truck door a bit harder than he means to. The rain just started coming down harder and he wanted to get his bag in the cabin before it got worse.

When he enters the front door, the scent of freshly baked cookies wafts through the air and he smiles.

“Made it, boys!” He yells, though he’s pretty sure speaking at a normal volume would’ve been enough. The cabin hasn’t changed much, but Steve insisted on opening up the front portion so it felt more welcoming.

“Wayne!” Steve exclaims as he pops up from behind the counter of the kitchen. “You just missed Eddie. He went out to the trail.”

Wayne gives Steve a tight hug. At Steve’s frown, he laughs. “Sorry ‘bout the wet clothes. Started raining the last couple miles in and got heavier just as I was leavin’ the truck.”

“Oh no.” Steve groaned.

Just as he spoke, the back door slammed open and Eddie dropped his camera bag on the floor.

Wayne and Steve both took in the sight of him, drenched from head to toe, dripping onto the tile floor, and laughed.

“I hate the outdoors.”

“You’re a nature photographer. You hate the rain.” Steve walks over to him, still laughing under his breath. He picks up the bag before leaning in to kiss his cheek.

Wayne watches the exchange, fighting tears back at the reason he was invited to their cabin this weekend.

Eddie was proposing to Steve and wanted Wayne to be there to capture it with his camera. He didn’t care that Wayne was an old man who could barely operate a camera, he just wanted someone to do it.

He knew Eddie was also a little nervous and having Wayne there would help keep him calm.

Why he was nervous, Wayne didn’t know.

They couldn’t legally get married, but they might as well be anyway.

“Wayne!” Eddie bounces over to him and throws his arms around him, forgetting for a moment that he’s soaked. “You’re here!”

“I’m here. I’d like to be less wet, though.”

Eddie backs up and Wayne pats his shoulder.

“Both of you should go get changed. Dinner’s ready in ten minutes.” Steve interrupts on his way to put Eddie’s camera bag in their room.

“Yes, dear,” Eddie replies. Steve turns and glares for a moment before continuing on his way. Once he’s out of sight, Eddie sighs. “God, I love that man.”

“That’s why I’m here, ain’t it?” Wayne playfully shoves at Eddie’s arm. “We better listen to him. I’m starvin’ and I think he’d make us fend for ourselves if we show up at the table dripping wet.”

As Wayne changes, he can hear Steve laughing in their room, Eddie talking about something he saw outside in the usual dramatic way he spoke. He thinks back to the first time he brought his boys here together, how hushed they tried to be, how hesitant.

He looked over at a photo Eddie framed for this room so Wayne had something when he came to stay.

Paul was smiling at the camera, arm wrapped around Eddie’s shoulders, Wayne looking at both of them with a smile. He remembers laughing right after the picture was taken, and giving in and buying them both cotton candy. They insisted it wouldn’t make them sick, then proceeded to both rush to the nearest garbage can after they got off the Gravitron at the fair.

“Wayne! Steve’s bullying me!” Eddie yells.

“You probably deserve it!” He yells back.

“Unbelievable!” Eddie screams.

“Ha!” Steve yells.

Wayne shakes his head as he makes his way out to the chaos he chose to be a part of this weekend.