#They set up the table to try and foresee what was going to happen | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thehangeddemon · 6 months

Text

Madam X’s Shoulder Strap, Part III || Rohan, Ariel, & Xavier || July, 2023

Ariel: There were hours of daylight remaining before Rohan's return. Ariel returned to his apartment in a bit of a daze, tidying up the kitchen and making his bed while he reviewed for the tenth time every second of every minute in Rohan's presence. His eyes, his smile, his voice on repeat like one of his songs to memorize.

He forced himself to his desktop, pulling up a song he had meant to complete days ago.

He stared off into the distance, cheek in hand, and waited for something to happen. Some spark. The song wasn't hitting the same.

Thirty minutes later, the project was scrapped. A new file was made titled "Love Me Sober," and his desktop was abandoned.

He needed to choose a pair of shoes and fill his kitchen with something other than yogurt and eggs. Needed to plan dinner tonight. Needed to get high, maybe. He still hadn't decided.

Rohan/Xavier: "Holy--!" Rohan rubbed at his chest where his heart was trying its level best to burst through. "You scared me!"

"Good morning to you, too, Mr. Dalca," Xavier said cheerfully, grinning at Rohan from the couch in his suite. "I see we're still in last night's clothes. Oh my, and they're wrinkled! Just what did you get up to?"

Rohan gave Xavier a deadpan look as he set his phone and his keys on the coffee table. Of course the demon had been waiting for him. Rohan just knew there would be no escaping a bit of teasing. "Nothing you haven't done a thousand times."

Xavier was positively delighted. "I take it you had a very good time with Mr. Cassidy then."

"I'm going to go change."

"You look tired, did he keep you up all night?"

Rohan shook his head and walked into the closet. "Go wait for me in the lobby."

"You haven't answered my question!"

"Aren't you in a rush to buy your new toy?"

"I want to know!"

"Did you suddenly turn into John?" Rohan might have sounded exasperated, but there was humor in his voice. It wasn't often Xavier acted like the younger sibling he was at his core. "Go wait downstairs or you're going to the showroom by yourself."

Xavier sighed dramatically and got to his feet. "Fine, fine. Don't be long."

Rohan didn't get a break from Xavier's nosy teasing until they arrived at the showroom and the demon's attention was taken by the shiny luxury cars and the salesmen all but falling at his feet. Rohan gave his opinion when it was wanted, commented when it was necessary. But mostly he observed.

And thought about a certain man in Brooklyn.

A couple of hours after his departure, Ariel would get a text.

{Text from Unknown Number} Miss me yet?

Ariel: Ariel had debated on making a reservation at some high-end restaurant nearby but pushed the thought aside for the foreseeable future. Upscale crystal glasses and a hundred utensils weren’t his style, but wanting to cook at home was becoming just as daunting of a task once he walked into the market and realized he had painfully little equipment at home. Home was for snacking. Going out was for eating.

But Rohan wasn’t a city boy. He just happened to work in one. Sometimes. The details still weren’t clear to him. The more he thought about it, the vaguer Rohan’s work seemed.

Thoughts discarded as he roamed the aisles feeling very much out of place. Strawberries, something to make pancakes? Yes. Syrup or whipped cream? Both. Some oranges as well.

There were plenty of toiletries at home. He smiled at the thought of Rohan in his shower. Of his scent lingering on his boyfriend for the rest of the day. ‘Oh,’ Dracula would say, ‘you smell different!’

He must have looked a little insane, laughing by himself. He checked his phone for a message and laughed out loud to see what he had hoped for.

{Text} Was just thinking about you

It didn’t matter what he could or couldn’t cook if he didn’t have the tools to do it. A fancy homemade dinner would have to wait for another day, but he had an idea. Just needed to rush home with what little he had.

Rohan: Rohan smiled at his phone. The fact that he wasn't the only one whose mind was on their new boyfriend made him ridiculously happy.

He wandered away from Xavier and the salesman and into the reception area, seating himself in a comfortable corner. He wouldn't be missed for the next while.

{Text} You summoned me with your thoughts

{Text} Thinking good things or bad ones?

Ariel: {Text} You're not in my bed so that's bad

{Text} Was thinking you smell like me right now

Ariel was only paying just enough attention to pay for his groceries and haul everything with one hand, nose to his phone as he headed out the glass doors.

Rohan: Oh yes he did, and it was making him happy and slightly tormenting him at the same time.

{Text} I do. You can smell me all you want when I get back later

{Text} What are you up to?

Ariel: {Text} Just getting some things. Gonna work on my music and some other shit

{Text} What are you up to

Rohan: {Text} Watching car salesmen lust over Dracula and his wallet

{Text} Want to see?

Ariel: {Text} I'll fuck up his sale so bad you sure about a video call?

Rohan: {Text} Not a video call, just a video

{Text} Give me a moment

A few minutes later, Ariel would receive a clip in his messages.

In it, Xavier and a salesman sat on opposite sides of a large desk off to the side of a spacious showroom with gleaming floors and filled with gleaming cars. The salesman was enthusiastically going over paperwork with Xavier. A junior salesman and another assistant stood at the main salesman’s shoulder. The assistant was practically drooling and the junior salesman wasn’t far off.

The chorus of ‘yes, Mr. Rossmara’s and ‘of course we can, Mr. Rossmara’s was audible even from the reception area.

Ariel: {Text} Aw man lol

His response would have to wait until he walked into the door of his apartment. Texting was only slowing him down on the way home with groceries in hand.

What he was really looking for in the video was a glimpse of his man.

{Text} Bro he's a GTA character

Rohan: Alas, there would be no glimpse of Rohan in the video. As he was the one recording the video, the only trace of him was a slight shake as he chuckled.

{Text} The car stealing game?

Ariel: {Text} Not gonna ask if you're a gamer you just answered for me

Rohan: {Text} I’m not but I don’t think there’s anyone who doesn’t know what that game is

Ariel: {Text} Not really a gamer either but I have a Steam

{Text} Just got home. Gonna keep myself busy and might go out one more time

Rohan: Now that one he did have to look up. Not an uncommon occurrence but it did make him feel his age ever so slightly.

{Text} There’s plenty of time still, do whatever you have to

{Text} As long as you’re done by dinner

Ariel: {Text} Yes sir lol

{Text} Call me when you're heading out

Rohan: {Text} I will, promise

{Text} I’ve got a long day ahead but I will come back to you

Ariel: Ariel stared at that last text for some time. How long he didn't know. Such a simple promise had caught him off guard and fluttered his stomach almost sick. He had a lot to process again. The same feelings he had felt kissing Rohan's hand. It was as though he knew Ariel's concern.

After groceries were put away he headed back upstairs, pulled out his composition notebook, and jotted down song titles. The start of every original song began with a title. A word or phrase he couldn't get out of his head. ‘Love Me Sober’ was put to paper, followed by ‘Every Hour of the Day’ with a smile. He stared off at nothing a moment, jotted down ‘Felicity’ and ‘One More’.

There was suddenly a renewed confidence in his upcoming album.

Rohan: After they finished up at the showroom—and made the salesman very, very happy—Rohan and Xavier made their way to lunch.

They discussed Xavier’s new purchase and their schedule for the rest of the day, each alluded vaguely to what they had gotten up to the night before. They asked each other some questions that got answered, others that were only answered with other questions. Both fishing, in a familiar, affectionate way.

The rest of the day was a mix of business and pleasure. Actual work, enjoyable activities, frivolous detours. It was exhausting, but it was exhausting in a way that made him that much more excited to see Ariel at the end of it.

As promised, when late afternoon rolled around, the DJ would get a text.

{Text} I’m at my hotel getting my things

{Text} I’ll be there soon

Ariel: {Text} That's not a call!

Not that he minded at the moment, but both hands were quite occupied. Still, he had an idea how soon soon was, and ran back upstairs to spritz himself with cologne, check his hair, and his breath.

He was in new clothes by now, having hit the gym after completing one of his new songs in three hours. A record. Gray slacks and a deep blue shirt, no shoes as usual.

A black sheer curtain had been ordered that afternoon. Ordered, that is, as no store he had called had the size he required.

Ariel took the stairs two at a time, hitting play on the Leonard Cohen Greatest Hits album he had found. Every colored light in the house was perfectly synched. The final touch was a single wood wick candle on the end of the kitchen counter.

Italian appetizers and entrees were then taken out of each plastic bag and container. This was how he would be found when Rohan finally knocked on his door.

Rohan: {Text} I can’t hear your voice and pack at the same time, I’ll get distracted!

There wasn’t much to pack but even so. He wanted to hurry and squeeze in every possible second that he could with Ariel before it came time for him to go back home.

He once again availed himself of Xavier’s car service to take him back to Ariel’s loft, grinning from the moment he got in the car until the moment he walked into the building, got into the elevator, and arrived at Ariel’s door.

Upon opening it, his DJ would find him standing there with that same grin and his bag. He was once again in a suit, a dark blue one this time, and had once again forgone the tie.

“I’m back. Miss me?”

Ariel: {Text} You're gonna hear a lot more than talking baby

The soft eyes that met Rohan at the door instantly became playful, with a grin to match. How could he not, with Rohan looking at him like that, looking like that?

The bag was taken from Rohan's hand and placed by the bar station. His boyfriend gently guided by his jaw into a kiss.

Rohan: Rohan wrapped his arms around his boyfriend and felt his whole body sigh in pleasure. This was what he’d been looking forward to all day.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he said, nuzzling Ariel.

Ariel: Arms came to rest around Rohan's waist. He wanted to do ten things at once. None of which included letting Rohan loose. But alas, dinner was not quite finished yet.

"Mhm. So, like," he looked towards the kitchen counter, "I got a lot of seafood. I mean a lot," he laughed.

Rohan: He peered around Ariel and laughed. That was better than anything he’d been imagining for dinner.

“Perfect. I’ve been walking around all day and I’m starving. What did you get?”

Ariel: His concern was immediate and evident. "You didn't eat lunch?"

Rohan: “I did but it was a lunch meeting with a very annoying man who made me lose my appetite.”

Ariel: A soft squint. "Kay." Keeping a hand on Rohan's hip, he was led the few feet to the kitchen.

"So I didn't know what you'd really like so I got a bunch of shit. I got - okay I don't speak Italian so - I got this tag-y-ah-tell thing with grilled octopus and squid ink. Oh! I got crab and branzino cakes. Got a linguine with clams and scallops."

Rohan: Ariel had earned himself a kiss. In fact, he’d earned himself several, and Rohan wasn’t letting him up for air until both their lungs were screaming.

Ariel: The longer they kissed the smaller Ariel became. His hands traveled from Rohan's waist to his chest and eventually around his shoulders. Hungry kisses meant subtle offerings of his tongue, mouth soft and willing for invasion.

Rohan: It was the simplest thing. Ariel hadn’t known what he liked so he’d gotten lots of things. It was the simplest thing but the thoughtfulness and consideration behind the gesture had hit Rohan in a way he hadn’t been expecting.

Kissing his boyfriend and tasting him and holding him close had been the only response that felt right.

Rohan sighed softly and rested their foreheads together. “Thank you.”

Ariel: Those words carried an unexpected weight. This meant more than simple gratitude for being fed, but the why was eluding him.

"Long day?" he asked, eyes open to catch his gaze.

Rohan: Rohan’s eyes were tired but full of warmth and affection for the man in his arms. To think that a day ago he’d had no idea that Ariel existed.

“It was but it’s over now. Let’s have dinner and listen to Leonard Cohen.”

Ariel: "Yeah. You need to eat." Just needed to peel himself off and look for the forks.

"That guy hit on your or something?"

Rohan: “No, nothing like that. He spent the whole meeting talking about his yacht and the house he’s building and himself. I almost wish I’d let Rossmara stab him with his salad fork.”

Ariel: There was money and then there was stupid money. Ariel just didn't know where that line was drawn. He didn't have to live in this loft. He didn't have to be without a car. If someone told him they were going Tomorrowland in Germany next week he wouldn't break out in a sweat. Was that stupid money?

A yacht seemed on that line - maybe it was just the asshole that owned it.

"Dracula coulda just flexed on that car."

Rohan: “He doesn’t really do that. He’s a lot pettier. If the man we had lunch with told him he had his eye on a piece of art or something really rare and hard to find, Rossmara would swoop in and buy it first just so they couldn’t have it.” And Xavier had done that. Multiple times to multiple people.

Ariel: "Wow. What an asshole," he laughed.

Rohan: Rohan smiled. “Like I said, petty as can be. He didn’t get to stab our lunch companion but I’m sure he’ll find some other way to get back at him for spoiling the meal.”

Ariel: Well, now it was dinnertime, and his Drac-o-meter was already almost full. He supposed the man came with the whole package deal. That was fine, but in moderation.

"Well, pick whatever you want. I kinda want just a bite of everything."

Rohan: “I do, too, actually. It all looks good.”

But first he was getting out of his suit jacket and rolling up his sleeves so he’d be more comfortable.

Ariel: Ariel made his way over to the other side of the counter, sitting on his knees on the barstool.

"You can take your shoes off, too. If you want."

Rohan: “Shoes are fine but I was tired of the jacket. Not used to wearing a suit multiple days in a row.”

He took his seat across from Ariel and smiled. “Tell me about your day.”

Ariel: Did he have a problem with shoes in the house? No, but until they were off Rohan's feet he wouldn't look completely relaxed. Maybe it was a country thing. Was Spokane really a city? He'd never been. He'd now seen Rohan in two different suits and the image of who he really was or wasn't just wasn't yet clear.

He was just staring off at his cabinets, getting lost in his own thoughts.

"Made some music. Threw some music out. Been like two years since my last album so, like, I feel like I'm behind. But like, Tiësto had six years from his longest - I dunno. I tell myself I can't compare myself to Tiësto, or Alison, or Aoki or anyone, but I still do it. But yeah. Made some progress with that. Got to talk to you. Got groceries, went to the gym, more music..."

Rohan: “We’re our own worst critics. There’s no deadline when you’re creating something unless you’re doing it for someone other than yourself.” Rohan took a bite of the tagliatelle and hummed.

“I’m not a musician so take this how you will, but I think you’d be more satisfied releasing something you’re really proud of instead of something you released just because you felt you had to in order to ‘catch up’.”

Ariel: "I try to keep it real. I really love the first single I ever made. First remix I ever put out still makes me happy. But now I'm just thinking I got 3.8 million reasons to move my ass."

His fork was dug into the branzino cake but remained.

"It's college all over again. The shit I told you. Like, it ain't the same but it is. Thinking about other people."

Rohan: “The first person you create for is yourself. Art is a selfish thing, no matter the medium.” Rohan didn’t know how much weight his words carried but at this point in his life, he thought he’d gathered enough knowledge to know that much, even if he wasn’t an artist.

He reached over and squeezed Ariel’s hand. “Don’t focus on other people and what they’re doing. You’ll drive yourself crazy if you do.”

Ariel: An artist's advice weighed heavier than that of anyone else, but he found himself staring at Rohan and actively listening. He understood he meant well, and that carried him further.

He finally took a bite of the fish cake and sighed.

"Still wanna be with me?" he smiled.

Rohan: "Of course I do." He sampled the linguine, shaking his head fondly at Ariel. "How frequently you release music has nothing to do with why I like you."

Rohan reached over and petted his DJ's hair. "Don't think too much."

Ariel: The branzino was given a tap and a nod. You should try that, in Ariel speak.

"Not that," but he smiled just the same. "Like... that's me. That's what I do. I either don't think or I think a lot."

Rohan: “We all overthink. It’s a very human thing to do. I’m not going to not like you or hold it against you one way or the other. You don’t have to be anything but who you are with me.”

Ariel: "You got anything you'd be like," he made an X with his arms. "Cookies in bed. Talk with your mouth full. Fuckboy."

Rohan: Rohan nodded as he tried the branzino. “I do. Being rude to waiters and custodians.”

Ariel: A gasp. "I love Rachel!" he laughed.

Rohan: Rohan chuckled and shook his head. “I know you do, it’s obvious. And actually, seeing how much you do made me like you more.”

Ariel: He gave his own consideration of hard limits. "People being dicks to kids. Like okay, some kids are fucking assholes, but don't hate em before you know em."

Rohan: “People forget that children are still learning how to be people, or even that they are people. They’re just smaller. They deserve kindness and grace.”

Ariel: Ariel just smiled that big loving smile as Rohan spoke. A look in his eyes that could be interpreted as 'that's my man.'

Rohan: “What?” he chuckled. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Ariel: "Hm?" His smile just grew. "Come here, baby."

Rohan: “How much closer do you want me to be?” Rohan leaned over the counter. “This close?”

Ariel: That was close enough to steal a kiss. Not at all chaste.

Rohan: Rohan grinned into it. He didn’t know what he’d said but something had obviously struck a chord.

“What was that for?”

Ariel: "Can't I kiss you for being sweet?"

Rohan: "You can kiss me as much as you want for any reason you please."

Ariel: "Won't even need to make up reasons," said through his smile.

Rohan: Now it was Rohan who was fixing Ariel with an adoring look and pulling him in for a kiss. What machinations of fate had landed this precious man in his life?

"Eat your dinner. And try the tagliatelle, it's good."

Ariel: As Rohan would quickly learn, very few of his kisses were actually closed-lips and brief. Kisses were a hungry act, meant to appease his sense of taste.

"Yeah?" Ariel leaned over for a forkful before remembering -

"Fuck. You want a plate?" he laughed.

Rohan: That was just fine by Rohan. They could save chaste kisses for cheeks and foreheads.

"No, this is fine," he chuckled. "Why dirty dishes when we don't have to?"

Ariel: "This is kinda romantic, I guess?" His laugh was just for show. A kind of question in his eyes, waiting for Rohan to confirm otherwise. He liked it, but what Rohan thought dictated whether he actually got up to grab those plates.

Rohan: "It is. Eating seafood pasta with Leonard Cohen in the background in an apartment with colored light." He wound some of the tagliatelle around his fork and held it up to Ariel's lips.

Ariel: "Now that's fucking romantic." And he would take the bite without taking the fork. Now he would give Rohan a chaste kiss. Right on his forehead.

"Want something to drink?"

Rohan: "Sure," said Rohan, using food as an excuse to duck his head so Ariel wouldn't see how utterly melted he was by that forehead kiss. And he was the romantic one, really?

Ariel: The fact that Rohan had allowed him that simple bit of affection did more for Ariel than he would realize. Like holding hands, no man had ever desired or appreciated that before.

The ghoul was smiling to himself as he faced the fridge, having to cough to compose himself.

"Water, Red Bull, uh, White Claw?"

Rohan: Well, at least he wasn’t the only one feeling a little flustered.

Red Bull didn’t really go with pasta and White Claw was basically water with alcohol, which left one superior choice.

“Water, please.”

Ariel: "Right. You like wine." A bottle of water was given. "We can go get some if you want."

Rohan: “Thank you. Like is a strong word. I can drink it and enjoy it and appreciate it but if there’s another option, I usually go with that.”

Ariel: "So you're saying you don't want wine with dessert?" He laughed.

Rohan: “I’d rather have coffee with dessert. And you.”

Ariel: To stay awake longer? Right. This was their last night. Last night until when? Was this really going to last beyond today?

He didn't need to think about that. Instead he forced a smile. "I got instant. And uh, chocolate syrup. Some other stuff. Gotta wait til after dinner."

Rohan: Rohan studied Ariel for a moment and reached across the counter for his hand, smiling gently.

“I can wait. We’re assuming that we’re still going to want dessert after tackling this feast.”

Ariel: "Oh, no. We're saving room! I got something special. No rush." Ah, this hand again. Brought to his lips without hesitation this time.

Rohan: He smiled. “Oh yeah? Am I allowed to know what it is or is it a surprise?”

Ariel: Rohan was given a squint. "I've got strawberries, whipped cream..." Was any of this leading somewhere?

Rohan: There were two very, very different directions his brain wanted to go, but only one of them actually required saving some room after dinner.

“Ffffrench toast?”

Ariel: "We can have that, too." His smile was as unwavering as his gaze. "If you're okay with it. You know. If not, it's cool."

Rohan: Rohan fixed Ariel with a steady look that seemed to roam the whole of him that was visible.

“I seem to recall something about chocolate syrup as well.”

Ariel: His eyes cautiously lit, biting into the flesh of his bottom lip. "Mhm. You want that, baby?"

Rohan: “I have a sweet tooth,” he said with a grin.

Ariel: "We're keeping everything on the table? Honesty, I mean."

Rohan: “Of course. All cards on the table.” That was the way it should be.

Ariel: "You want chocolate sauce on me?"

Rohan: Rohan nodded and took a long sip of water. “I really do.”

Ariel: "What else you wanna do to me?"

Rohan: He smiled. “Oh, this and that.”

Ariel: Rohan was just full of firsts. Hand holding, commitments, sweetness - in more ways than one. He was so unique and somehow so familiar. That feeling he'd always known this man while knowing nothing about him just wouldn't shake.

"Yeah?" Ariel had leaned in by now, brushing his nose along Rohan's jaw. "Tell me, baby, please."

Rohan: He wouldn’t lean away, but Rohan wouldn’t lean in either. He was going to stay perfectly still and pet Ariel without giving him exactly what he wanted.

“There’s a lot of you I haven’t kissed yet. I can’t just let that stand.”

Ariel: His eyes finally closed, leaning his cheek against Rohan's face like a cat.

"Yeah? Want some dessert now?"

Rohan: “Dessert comes after dinner and someone has hardly eaten.” Maybe just a little kiss on the cheek.

“Naughty boys don’t get rewards,” he murmured.

Ariel: Rohan knew just what to say to send a visible shiver down Ariel's spine. Who would have thought.

"I'm not hungry for that."

Rohan: “Three more bites and we can have dessert. Can you do that for me?”

Ariel: "Oh come on. I'm not five." But he was laughing just the same, leaning back to finish off the crab cake. There! A crab cake and a half! Washed down with a glass of forgotten water.

Rohan: “As I’m sure you’re aware, we still have to eat past the age of five.”

Oh no, Ariel wasn’t getting off that easy. He was getting offered a bite of linguine.

Ariel: One of them clearly had a stronger sex drive than the other, or, he was beginning to suspect, Rohan just enjoyed tormenting him. Either way, with a soft sigh and playful glare, he took another bite from his boyfriend's fork.

Rohan: Maybe Rohan did enjoy teasing Ariel just a little bit. One of the many benefits of being a patient person was situations exactly like this one, where one of them was raring to go and the other was happy to take their time.

“Good boy,” he said, pecking Ariel’s cheek before offering another bite.

Ariel: Ariel refused to shiver at being called a good boy. He couldn't give everything away at once! He did, however, bite his lip without meaning to. So much for keeping his feelings to himself.

But he took another bite and waved his hand. He was simply too excited to eat and didn't like feeling full during sexual hours.

Another gulp of water to wash the taste away, and he was standing behind his man, hands sliding over Rohan's ribs as he began kissing the back of his neck.

Rohan: Combined with the branzino, Ariel had technically taken the three bites Rohan had asked for. His DJ still hadn’t eaten very much but Rohan was satisfied.

He laughed softly as Ariel came up behind him, turning to nuzzle his hair. “So impatient. Missed me that much, hm?”

Ariel: "Something like that." It was exactly that. That and more. Had to get his touches in before this man disappeared from his life. As quickly as they had come to trust one another, a part of him still expected to never see this man again. The part of him that had been conditioned to believe he was nothing more than a fuck buddy for every other man with lust in their eyes.

Kisses trailed up from the back of Rohan's neck to his ear. The tip of his tongue made a slow circle inwards.

Rohan: Rohan heaved a long, deep sigh, humming contentedly. This had been worth the wait and the long day, and it was just the beginning.

“I think you better grab those strawberries and that whipped cream and chocolate. I am going to eat you up.”

Ariel: Would Rohan hear the giddiness in Ariel's voice as he said, "Yeah?" offering another kiss to Rohan's throat before pulling away to the fridge. He didn't have a clue what they would be doing with the strawberries, but he knew exactly what he intended for the other items. Both chocolate and whipped cream were placed on the counter. The box of strawberries, wrapped in neat red ribbon, was last.

"Upstairs?"

Rohan: It was impossible not to and Rohan was so endeared by it, it made him want to kiss this man senseless.

Soon.

He grabbed their dessert and nodded. “Mhm, upstairs so we’re comfortable. Come on, sweet boy.”

Ariel: Then he would carry the strawberries. But first, a change in music. Some chillstep in the background. Music like Cohen, such serious lyrics would be a distraction. Besides, he wanted to set the mood. All lights were turned low, allowed to transition between shades of blue and purple.

Rohan was followed up the stairs. A large hand sliding over the witch's hip as they ascended.

Rohan: Rohan smiled to himself at the intimate, familiar gesture. He and Ariel already seemed to be more comfortable around each other than most people would be in their position and little things like that were why.

He set the whipped cream and chocolate on the bedside table and turned to face his DJ.

“Am I undressing myself or are you undressing me?”

Ariel: The strawberries were placed at the foot of the bed. Tunnel vision was setting in, wanting to keep a hand on Rohan at all times, wanting to see his bare skin again. Wanting to taste between his thighs.

First things first.

"I'll undress you, baby," he managed to say before stealing kisses.

Rohan: And I’ll undress you, Rohan added silently, letting Ariel guide their kiss.

The space between them was only out of necessity; as soon as they succeeded in getting each other’s shirts unbuttoned, Rohan would pull his boyfriend close and let his hands begin to wander like they ached to do.

Ariel: His skin was warm to the touch. Sensitive, evident in his soft gasp in Rohan's mouth. He could hardly think straight or control the sway of his hips; all thoughts were devoted to the feeling of soft skin beneath his fingertips.

"Why you so pale, country boy?" He was beginning to question if Rohan really did wear anything other than a suit. Had to explain the contrast in their skin. Even as a ghoul he was visibly shades warmer. He didn't care. He loved it. Loved it because it was Rohan. He hunched over just to plant kisses along his lover's collarbone.

Rohan: Rohan just smiled, tormenting himself by easing Ariel’s shirt off his shoulders slowly so he could give every inch of exposed skin the attention it deserved.

“I’m Eastern European, we’re all pale.” Because he could, and because Ariel’s position gave him the opportunity, Rohan kissed his DJ’s head and breathed in the scent of his hair. The way it washed over his senses made him ache.

His hands traveled down to the waistline of Ariel’s pants and got to work undoing his belt.

Ariel: There were some lovers for whom closed eyes were necessary. Less than attractive orgasmic faces and unseemly tattoos. The rare one-off of an unenthusiastic man looking for a quick fix. A scalding shower had been needed after him.

None of that was on his mind. He didn't want to shut his eyes. He never wanted to blink and miss a single breath. Just the way Rohan admired him gave him butterflies. He felt seen.

Their shirts tossed away, Ariel waited his turn to finish stripping his boyfriend down. In the meantime, he got to enjoy a bit of a power play, being the first naked. He watched Rohan with a gently bitten lip, eager for his next move.

Rohan: The last time leaving Ariel almost fully clothed had been as enjoyable as it had been intentional but this time was different.

Rohan wanted to see and taste and touch all of his boyfriend. He didn’t want there to be a single part of Ariel’s body left unexplored and unloved and unknown to him.

Rohan backed Ariel slowly toward the bed, silently encouraging him to lay back with soft, languid kisses and gentle but insistent hands.

Ariel: Ariel might as well have been his obedient and loving slave. The adoring look in his eyes remained with every step, falling back onto the mattress, he used his forearms to bring himself center, never once looking away.

Every freckle, scar, and tattoo, every dip and hill caused by shadow, everything for Rohan to study, admire, and memorize. Everything Ariel was doing in kind.

Rohan: He was a work of art. There was no other way to put it, no other way to see Ariel that would possibly do him justice. He was a masterpiece.

One that deserved to be touched with reverence and care.

Rohan sighed happily and reached for the box of strawberries, making a show of untying the ribbon while he grinned down at his boyfriend.

As soon as Rohan got the box open, he would place one of the strawberries in his mouth and lean back within kissing range for Ariel to bite it.

Ariel: Ariel wondered Rohan's exact thoughts when he looked at him for so long without a single word. To ask would have broken the spell, but the thought was tucked away for later.

He knew what he felt when he looked at Rohan's pale immaculate skin. Wanting to run his fingers over each and every freckle, creating his own secret trail.

But his hands were occupied holding himself up as he carefully bit at his offering, giggling all the while.

Rohan: A man who looked like a living breathing Greek statue had no business having such an adorable giggle. Hearing it made Rohan want to kiss the life out of him and lay the world at his feet.

The latter was impossible, but the former? That was easily achieved.

His DJ would have sticky sweet strawberry kisses, and if they made a mess, Rohan was cleaning it up with even more kisses.

Ariel: Airy laughter became surprised little noises. The sweetness of their kisses and Rohan's half-dressed state was doing something to his mind. He felt smaller beneath Rohan's gentle frame, and he felt safe enough to collapse back on his sheets, freeing his hands to carefully explore from his ribs to his shoulders.

"You taste good," he smiled.

Rohan: "Mmm, so do you." Because it would allow Ariel to finish undressing him, and just because he wanted to, Rohan put himself in easy reach of his boyfriend's hands, affectionately looming over him and kissing along his neck and his jaw.

He was debating another strawberry but what Rohan really wanted to get his lips and his hands all over Ariel so the real question was:

Should he start with the chocolate or the whipped cream?

Ariel: With Rohan better positioned on the bed, Ariel's fingers descended, determined to remove his belt and hear those satisfying pops with every loop.

Even unbuttoned and unzipped, all he could do was pull those pants to his knees. Sitting up was out of the question under Rohan's roaming gaze. On his back he remained, submissive eyes watching and waiting.

Rohan: That sweet gaze made the decision for him.

Rohan kissed the corner of Ariel's mouth and helped him sit up so he could finish getting his pants off, which also conveniently allowed Rohan to grab the chocolate sauce from the bedside table. Two birds, one stone.

The moment he was fully nude, Rohan would be drizzling chocolate across Ariel's collar bone and shoulder and licking it off.

Ariel: Being forced to sit up offered another opportunity. Heavy gray pillows were just getting in the way and were tossed off the bed entirely.

"Thought you were a whipped cream kinda guy." His chest caved in a silent laugh, expression light and intrigued at the first drip of chocolate. His laugh now at the sensation.

"Fuck, baby, that's hot." Taking in everything at once was damn near overwhelming.

Rohan: “Oh, I am.” Rohan absolutely couldn’t stop his grin or the joke that followed it. “I swing both ways.”

The night was long; there would be plenty of time for him to indulge every single aspect of his sweet tooth.

Only when Rohan had gotten every last drop of the chocolate did he gently push Ariel onto his back again. That chest of his was in need of affection and Rohan was in need of giving it.

A suspiciously large amount of chocolate would be drizzled onto each of Ariel’s nipples in turn and Rohan would take his sweet time licking it off.

Ariel: "Ha!" As much as he found this funny, his laughter was short and sweet as he was pushed back onto the mattress. He couldn't look away. What a surprise, his cheeks and neck had pinked. This man was so different and so erotic. Never in a hundred years would he have expected such bold, dominating behavior from a man like Rohan. He was in love, and told himself again and again it was lust. It was just lust. But lust didn't have him asking for a commitment in less than 24 hours. He didn't know what this madness was.

"Baby," he breathed, reaching between his legs to squeeze his hardening cock, "holy shit."

Rohan: Rohan knew that a man like him, a man who tended to be quiet and modest and serious, wasn't expected to be bold in any aspect of his life. But Rohan was a man who'd had decades to learn to trust himself and become comfortable with his sexuality. He felt no doubt, only amazement that he could come to this point so quickly with someone he'd known for so little.

What was never in question, however, was just how much he wanted Ariel.

He hummed contentedly, smiling down at his DJ as he reached for another strawberry. It was time for a palette cleanser.

This time, the strawberry was held to Ariel's lips.

Ariel: He took only a nibble of the strawberry, looking down at himself in amusement. Already he was feeling sticky. They might just get that shower together after all.

"How far - ah!" Some chocolate had made an escape down to his ribs. "Get it get it!"

Rohan: He used the strawberry to catch the errant drip of chocolate, humming again as he took a bite of it. He couldn't recall ever enjoying a dessert more.

"How far what?" he asked, looking Ariel over as he tried to decide which part of him to sample next.

Ariel: "Ahhh!" Rohan was a villain! The strawberry was still cold from the fridge! The goosebumps were instant.

"I uh," he laughed, "forgot what I was gonna say." He collapsed back and stretched, arms remaining overhead.

Rohan: Rohan laughed, offering an apology kiss. He wasn't really all that sorry though. Ariel was so cute.

But those arms of his...they hadn't been given the proper attention yet. They looked like they could use some whipped cream and kisses from fingertips to shoulders.

Ariel: Oh? Ariel adjusted his arm for this tender treatment. His eyes softened as he watched. Even this? Why did Rohan take him by surprise again and again?

"Kiss me," sounded more like a beg.

Rohan: Ariel's plea was Rohan's command. He'd been so sweet and so patient while Rohan indulged himself, he deserved a reward. And if the reward he wanted was a kiss, that's exactly what he was going to get. A kiss.

Deep and heated and tasting like whipped cream and chocolate and strawberries.

Ariel: The moment he captured those lips was the same moment he pulled Rohan directly on top, wrapping his legs around his hips and squeezing. This was the first time feeling Rohan's full weight against him. Their cocks rubbed together, and he couldn't help but throb and shudder.

"Not too fast?" he breathed.

Rohan: The moan was completely involuntary and not at all surprising. Ignoring his body's need was easy until it wasn't, and Ariel certainly didn't make it easy with the way he wrapped himself around Rohan.

He shook his head as his lips traveled down his boyfriend's neck.

"Not too fast," he whispered back, grinding down just a bit.

Ariel: Then his legs would remain wrapped. Rolling his hips again in the hopes of catching one of those moans in his mouth. His hands returned above his head, leaving himself vulnerable to exploration.

Rohan: He would. Many of them. Ariel had left himself open to exploration but right now, all Rohan wanted to do was kiss him and hold him as close as possible.

His hands wandered, but only a bit. Only enough to caress his boyfriend's sides, to feel the shape of him. The last time he'd left Ariel's clothes on and denied himself this pleasure but tonight was different. Tonight Rohan wanted to feel all of him that he could.

Ariel: They were moving both at the speed of sound and as carefree as a snail. With every grind, his soft little noises were growing longer and more desperate. There was a plead in those sounds, forced out after drinking in a gulp of air.

"Fuck me, please."

Rohan: Every single little sound Ariel made went directly between Rohan’s legs and made him throb that much more intensely. This man was the most beautifully exquisite torment he’d ever met.

In that moment, Rohan would’ve given him anything.

He nodded and pressed his lips to Ariel’s forehead.

“Condom,” he panted. “Where?”

Ariel: There was something different about the way Rohan kissed than any other man. Not every kiss was sexual. He didn't know how to describe it in his carnally drunk brain, but it was the same energy as his grandfather kissing him goodnight. Any other man and he would have pushed them away, made a face, but he wouldn't dare with Rohan.

Deep down, he knew, just knew it was for Rohan. He needed that, and he wouldn't deny him those kisses, those cheek pinches. They made Rohan happy, and he was special to receive them.

"Drawer," he pointed to the floating bedside table.

Rohan: Had Rohan known that Ariel had already come to understand this aspect of his personality at such a level, he would’ve been moved beyond words. There were precious few in his life who could say the same and even fewer who had realized it so quickly.

Was it any wonder he was so drawn to this man?

Rohan had to—very reluctantly—dislodge Ariel’s legs from around his waist in order to reach the drawer and get what they needed, but the separation wouldn’t be long. Within moments he would be back within Ariel’s reach, denying him touch only for as long as it took to get the condom open and on.

Ariel: Ariel sat up on his elbows to watch. Not yet fully aroused, turgid, aching, and heavy on his thigh. It was Rohan rolling a dark purple condom over his length that finished him, reaching between his legs to stroke himself, teasing his fingertips over his scrotum.

Why was that so hot?

Rohan: A slow smile spread across Rohan’s face at Ariel’s impatience. Apparently he was having a greater effect than he’d anticipated.

“Can’t wait, hm?” He reached to retrieve one of the pillows. “Lift your hips for me, sweet boy.” Because having Ariel be even remotely uncomfortable was not an option.

As was leaving him without kisses for even one second longer.

Ariel: Without a word, Ariel obeyed. His lip softly bitten, lust behind his golden eyes. He raised his hips and continued his lazy strokes. A calm had washed over him from nowhere. He grabbed at his scrotum and lifted, presenting himself for his boyfriend's viewing pleasure before being kissed. Everything was for him. His lips, his ass, his tongue, even his breath.

Rohan: If it was all for him, then Rohan was going to relish it the way he relished things; thoroughly and with absolute care.

He hadn’t gotten his fill of tasting his boyfriend’s body by a long shot but the night was long and they’d have a shower waiting for them later. He had plenty of time.

Plenty of time to capture Ariel’s lips and let his weight settle over him, plenty of time to caress that beautiful body and deepen their kiss as he eased himself inside and felt Ariel’s heat envelop him inch by agonizingly slow inch.

Ariel: Rohan had no idea how pleased Ariel was, finally finding a man as devoted to kissing as he was. These were not the sweet little kisses from downstairs. Offerings of his tongue now followed gentle little noises.

He realized the reason for his calm the moment Rohan pushed forward. This was all too surreal. There was no way the man from last night he had dined and danced with was the same man he called his own now. The same man kissing him within an inch of his life as he gave every inch he owned.

"Oh, fuck," was just a broken whimper of pleasure.

He didn't know what to do with his hands, so he lost them in Rohan's hair.

Rohan: Rohan wouldn’t object. Whatever Ariel wanted to do with his hands was just fine by him so long as they stayed as close as possible because even now, Rohan could still hardly believe he’d found this man. Not only that he’d found him, but that he got to have this man, to pleasure him, to touch him, to kiss him.

To be wanted by him.

Rohan sighed in absolute contentment as he sank to the base, resting his forehead against Ariel’s for a bit while he let that initial wave of desperation pass him over.

“You feel so good,” he whispered, slowly beginning to move. “So good, sweet boy.”

Ariel: Such a benign statement to cause so many butterflies. This was lust. This was just lust.

He wouldn't call himself a desperate man. Not touch starved or needy. Hungry, always. What he had was a good life. But with Rohan's warmth enveloping him, he felt something had been missing. Something he couldn't describe as anything other than this.

"You're so deep," he breathed. Said with the same emphasis as a declaration of love.

He must have been projecting, because he could swear he heard the same from Rohan.

Rohan: Maybe he had. Projecting or not, maybe Ariel had heard an underlying something in Rohan's words that maybe Rohan didn't even realize was there. A fondness that went beyond this moment and the haze of desire and need that was shrouding them both and only seemed to be growing more intense with every thrust.

To Rohan, that haze was a safety net, a way for him to give his boyfriend exactly as much affection as he pleased without having to qualify or explain it. It was only the haze that added sweetness to his kisses, only the haze that had him cooing praise in Ariel's ear, only the haze that was making him touch Ariel with such tenderness even as he drove him toward his peak.

Not anything else, not this soon. Only the haze.

Ariel: Ariel felt himself flying somewhere dangerously high. With every other thrust, his words became broken, astonished, and fluttery.

"Oh my God," became his mantra, forgetting to touch himself. Fingers pressed into Rohan's chest, wanting to look at as much of his body as he could. As much as he enjoyed those sweet little nothings it was all he could allow himself to believe. He was a selfish man, and wanted nothing more than to admire the nuance of Rohan's skin. Every flex of muscle. The way his hair fell over his eyes. Even his breath as he neared that drawing cliff.

"Baby," he didn't mean to whimper, "I'm so close."

Rohan: Rohan obeyed the silent command of those hands, straightening enough for Ariel to look his fill while Rohan moved in and out of his body.

Despite his building orgasm, everything about Rohan was relaxed. His muscles flexed only with his movements and not with tension. Sweat had plastered his hair to his temples and made his skin feel sticky where it combined with the lingering sweetness from Ariel’s skin but he didn’t feel the discomfort of it. His gaze remained soft and fixed on Ariel’s face and his smile?

Pure adoration for the man whimpering beneath him.

“You sound so sweet,” Rohan murmured, sliding one of his hands from Ariel’s chest all the way down to his shaft and stroking with just enough friction to be maddening.

“So cute. You’ve been patient all day, haven’t you? You can let go, beautiful boy. You don’t have to be patient anymore. Just let go.”

Ariel: How many times would Rohan manage to surprise him like this? Just another sweet nothing, he told himself. Just something utterly uniquely Ro, calling his noises and nonsense sweet. Along with those kisses, those pinches, and that ridiculous smile.

Goosebumps followed in the wake of Rohan's fingers. His cock warm and slick in his grip.

It was then he began to writhe, unable to control his body and the desperate need for more. For something. But Lord help him, not the end of it.

His hands fell into his own hair, barely shaking his head.

"Mnn, I want you to come, baby."

Rohan: Rohan just hummed and leaned over Ariel again, leaving enough space between them to continue to stroke in time with his thrusts but not speeding or slowing his rhythm.

There was no need to rush, he thought as he took his boyfriend’s lips and stole his breath with a kiss. At the pace they were going, they wouldn’t last much longer anyway.

Ariel: The witch made an animal of his ghoul, stealing his breath like that. So concentrated on giving perfect kisses and offering his tongue, the staggering sensation of heat and friction nearly struck him dumb. Unable to form coherent words other than a mumbled warning.

"Gonna come." One word stumbling over the other. Head pressed hard into the mattress, thighs quivering and toes curling, tightening around Rohan's buried cock.

Golden eyes opened wide and his hips began to rut.

"Don't stop! Oh, please come!"

Rohan: Rohan wouldn’t have been able to stop even if he’d wanted to. Getting to witness Ariel’s release, getting to feel it in every part of his body was simply too much to fight against.

He gloriously lost his grip on his self-control and went tumbling off that edge after Ariel, burying his face in his boyfriend’s neck and holding him tight as he surrendered to the free fall.

Ariel: Their world had become small. The only man that existed was in his arms, as sweaty and messy as he. There would be no hiding his face. Ariel could do nothing but kiss this man, forgoing the need to breathe for just one more second just to feel those moans in his mouth. This was his one demand where he would beg for everything else.

Rohan: Any moans would be far too quiet for his boyfriend to really feel but Rohan would indulge him anyway.

Who was he to argue if his body decided being devoured by Ariel was more important than breathing? If he passed out from a lack of oxygen, then he’d pass out a happy man.

Ariel: Sex like this could drive a man insane. Let words slip he didn't mean because for two seconds he truly believed them. Words he wouldn't dare say because there was absolutely no sense in them. No way they could be real.

But he would nuzzle, taken in by Rohan's silence, blissful and exhausted, shivering and shuddering at the feeling of still being filled. He wouldn't encourage Rohan to break free. They could stay like this a while longer. He didn't even mind the heat.

Rohan: This position did nothing to help Rohan's need to take in great lungfuls of air but he didn't care. He'd settle for catching his breath more slowly if it meant he got to spend a little longer laying with Ariel like this.

There was something beautiful about being completely part of someone and having them be completely part of you and if he only got it for a moment, then Rohan wanted that moment to last. Not because he feared he'd never get another but because it had been a long time since he had, and he'd been aching for it.

Still, he'd indulged himself enough this evening. He'd gotten his cake and miraculously he'd gotten to eat it. Time to float back down to earth.

He eased himself out of Ariel and smiled down at him, nuzzling his cheek. "You okay, sweet boy?"

Ariel: Those endearing words again. Ariel just quietly laughed, just managing a nod. His fingers remained in his hair, eyes closed.

"I'm perfect."

But then, he had to know, "You okay?"

Rohan: “I’m good.”

Rohan rolled onto his back and took a deep breath. They needed a shower but summoning the energy to get up and do it seemed like an insurmountable task at the moment. Besides, he didn’t think either one of them could hold themselves up just yet.

“Don’t fall asleep.”

Ariel: "Why not? Did it last night," Ariel smiled. He was about there, and now with cool air kissing his skin, his arms stretched over his head. The perfect sleeping position.

Rohan: “We’re all sticky and sweaty,” he chuckled. “We need a shower before we can sleep.”

Ariel: "Mmmmm, goodnight," he fought to keep his expression neutral, pretending to sleep.

Rohan: Rohan sighed dramatically and made to get up. “What a shame. I guess I’ll just have to go shower all by myself.”

Ariel: "Mmmmm, good morning!" That has him hauling himself to his feet with a sigh of his own. One much more satisfying and pleased.

Rohan: Rohan laughed as he headed into the bathroom.

“Now how did I know that would work?”

Ariel: Arms wrapped around him from behind, gently squeezing as he looked at their figures in the mirror. Again with that surreal chill sweeping over his entire body like walking through a cold spot. He just had to kiss that neck and watch himself while he did it.

Rohan: He smiled at their reflections and turned to kiss Ariel’s head. His boyfriend might have felt a chill but Rohan just felt pleasantly warm all over. He hoped it would last.

If Ariel wasn’t inclined to let him go, Rohan was just going to pull him along to start the shower.

Ariel: He kinda loved the fact that Rohan never asked permission to shower. Never asked for anything. He made himself at home and that was the way Ariel wanted it.

A hand lingered on Rohan's spine.

"You actually tired or wanna do something after this?"

Rohan: This morning when he’d woken before Ariel had set a precedent for how Rohan navigated his home. That and the fact that they’d entered into a relationship.

“I am tired but in a good way.” Once the water had warmed, he guided the two of them in. “What about you?”

Ariel: "I could go dancing," he smiled. He held onto Rohan's hand until he was under the water, closing the glass door behind them.

"Or eat - forgot we've got food."

Rohan: “We do. Feeling hungry? You didn’t really eat all that much earlier.”

Rohan stepped under the spray and sighed contentedly.

Ariel: "I don't," he smiled and looked away, grabbing the shampoo, "don't like sex on a full stomach."

Rohan: Rohan smiled back. “And now? Did you work up an appetite?”

Ariel: "Oh yeah," he grinned. "Starving!" As much as he wanted to wrap his arms around Rohan from behind, it could wait just a minute longer.

"Want me to... ?" Starting to get a beat on what Rohan enjoyed.

Rohan: “Then we’ll eat.”

Rohan kissed his boyfriend’s cheek and reached for the shampoo bottle.

“You wash my hair and I wash yours?”

Ariel: Ah. Ah. The bottle was raised over his head. "Then you gotta let me wash," he laughed.

Rohan: “We can wash at the same time!”

Ariel: "What?" he laughed again. "How's that work?"

Rohan: “By facing each other.” Ariel wasn’t that much taller than he was, it could work.

Ariel: The bottle was offered. "We do a lot I've never done before."

Rohan: “Am I the first person to want to wash your hair?” Rohan asked as he lathered shampoo in his hands.

Ariel: "And hold my hand, and pinch my cheek." A breath. "First boyfriend."

Rohan: As much as it hurt his heart to know that no man had ever shown this sweet man that type of physical affection, there was a part of Rohan that was glad to be the first.

“If I ever do something you don’t like, you have to tell me, okay?”

Ariel: "You worried about that?" Ariel's voice was soft, waiting for the right moment to lather the shampoo in his hand.

Rohan: Rohan shook his head. “I wouldn’t say I’m worried but it’s important for two people to be able to be frank with each other on that level, especially if they’re in a relationship. I don’t ever want you to feel uncomfortable around me.”

Ariel: "This because all of my firsts?" He made sure to pull Rohan's hair back, keeping soap from his eyes as he leaned in, stealing a kiss.

Rohan: He smiled and shook his head again. “I’d still be saying all this to you even if I was your hundredth boyfriend.”

Ariel: "I think you'll know if I don't like something."

Rohan: “Maybe, but in case I don’t, tell me. Please.”

Ariel: "I promise and you promise?" His arms came to rest around Rohan's waist.

Rohan: Rohan nodded. “I promise.”

Ariel: "I'm not worried, baby." Only one thing, and he didn't know how to bring it up, so he just said nothing.

Rohan: It was Rohan's turn to steal a kiss. "Okay." Despite the insecurity that kept wanting to rear its head, he chose to trust Ariel's words and his promise.

"Turn around so I can wash your back."

Ariel: He couldn't list every single thing in a shower no one had done before. Rinsing together wasn't the same as washing each other's back, washing each other's hair, and holding each other under the stream of hot water. Just not the same.

Both hands were placed on the cold tile, forehead falling with a gentle thump between.

Rohan: However many firsts Ariel ended up having with him, Rohan hoped they would all be memorable. Or if not memorable, then at least pleasant and enjoyable.

Even the little ones, like their shower.

He smiled at his boyfriend, wrapping his arms around him. “What are you thinking about?”

Ariel: Ariel just smiled, enjoying the fact that he knew, without looking, that Rohan was smiling.

"Wasn't thinking anything."

Rohan: Rohan rested his cheek against Ariel’s shoulder. “Just enjoying the moment?”

Ariel: "Yeah." After a few seconds, he turned, letting his arms rest on Rohan's shoulders. He didn't have to scrub his back; this was bliss all on its own.

Rohan: The smile Ariel had felt was still present when he turned to face Rohan, unspeakably soft and affectionate. If his boyfriend wanted to just enjoy the moment for a little while, then Rohan was happy to stand with him under the spray and just hold on to him.

Ariel: "You're tired, aren't you?" he whispered.

Rohan: He shook his head. “Not really. Just feel relaxed and happy.”

Ariel: "Lemme wash your back and we can eat."

Rohan: “Okay.” But he was going to give Ariel a squeeze first.

Ariel: This being his first time washing a man's back, he was going to take his time and enjoy. Not so obsessed as to count each and every freckle, but he was standing there admiring Rohan like a Renaissance painting.

"You're hot, baby."

Rohan: Had anyone ever called him hot before? Rohan couldn’t recall it happening but, not wanting to open the door to questions about exes during their nice shower, he simply chuckled and said, “Not as hot as you.”

Ariel: "This isn't a contest," he chuckled, leaning over to kiss Rohan's shoulder. "But you win," he whispered in his ear.

Rohan: He turned to nuzzle his DJ. “Agree to disagree.”

Ariel: That same modesty from before. Felt more than that, but he didn't want to push. No sense in it. He would just show him how he felt and maybe over time his confidence would bloom. He must have felt it, seen it just minutes ago in bed.

"All done?"

Rohan: Whether or not Rohan’s confidence would get a lasting boost was anyone’s guess but for now, knowing that Ariel was sincerely attracted to him was enough.

He nodded. “All done.” Maybe just one more quick rinse just to be safe.

Ariel: Ariel was happy to oblige, running his fingers through Rohan's hair one last time to check for suds.

"No going out tonight?" As awake as he was now, he was going to leave that option to Rohan.

Rohan: "Let's eat first and see how we feel." Even though the shower had successfully chased away the post-orgasm drowsiness, a meal could bring it right back at the drop of a hat.

Still, Rohan was loath to sleep. He didn't want to waste a single moment of the time he had left with Ariel.

Ariel: "Kay."

He would be first out of the shower, if only to grab Rohan's towel, which he had neatly folded and left in the hopes of his return. It had only been hours without him, but the gesture was still the same. To have tossed it with the rest of the dirty clothes would have been assuming he wasn't a man of his word.

"You like movies?"

Rohan: A gesture that didn’t go unnoticed by Rohan. It was only a towel but it was a small, hopeful indication of so much more than that.

He nodded as he toweled off his hair. “I do, yeah. Want to watch something while we eat or after maybe?”

Ariel: "Whatever. I don't really watch movies." But he was curious what a man like Rohan liked.

Ariel took a step back, watching his boyfriend while he toweled at his hips and between his legs.

Rohan: “Really?” For some reason, Ariel had struck him as the type to enjoy them. Maybe music was his entertainment of choice as well as his passion.

“Do you have a favorite one?”

Ariel: He took a moment to consider, then shrugged. "There was this movie when I was a kid called Go I really liked."

He was far more focused on Rohan, and rubbing himself through his towel.

Rohan: “Doesn’t sound familiar,” Rohan said after a moment, wrapping his towel around his waist. He’d yet to notice what Ariel was doing, too busy thinking about all the movies he’d seen and wondering which ones Ariel would like.

This would continue as he absently left the bathroom in search of his bag.

Ariel: Rohan would hear his boyfriend snort, covering his mouth and nose to keep from laughing out loud.

Rohan: “Are you okay?” Rohan called. Their dessert materials needed to be put away but underwear took priority.

Ariel: You're blind and I don't know if that's cute. That means you're not looking at me.

"Mhm."

Rohan: “Why are you still in here?” he asked as he entered the bathroom again. He’d put on a pair of boxer briefs and was giving his hair another once over with the towel.

Ariel: "No reason." He'd tossed his towel on the bathroom counter by then, gently tugging at his erection while Rohan did his thing.

Rohan: Ah. Well he definitely saw what was preoccupying Ariel now.

Rohan chuckled and shook his head. “Here I am thinking of what kind of movies you’d enjoy and you’re jacking off.”

Ariel: "I have no idea when I'll see you naked again. Just taking it all in. I'm not gonna wear anything but underwear the rest of the night. Look all you want."

Rohan: “I do. You’ll see me naked when I come back for your birthday.” He smiled, looking Ariel up and down. “Or did you forget you invited me?”

Ariel: "That's forever from now." You could always realize long distance sucks. "If you want I can stay like this."

Rohan: “It’ll fly by, I promise.” At least he hoped it would. Ariel might well decide Rohan wasn’t worth the effort after all if they were apart for longer.

“Put your underwear on, for my sanity.”

Ariel: Ah, his smile became a grin yet again, saying nothing else as he brushed past for some navy blue boxer briefs.

For his sanity, of course.

"What's your favorite?"

Rohan: Rohan frowned. “My favorite what? Oh, movie.” Right, they’d been talking about movies.

He shook his head and tried to focus. “White Christmas.”

Ariel: His hands on his hips, his brow wrinkled. "Sounds familiar. Black and white?"

Rohan: “Color. Bing Crosby, Rosemary Clooney.”

Ariel: "Like, I'm picturing it, but it's black and white. Maybe something Nana watched."

Rohan: “Maybe. There are lots of good classic movies but some of them do tend to blend together.”

Ariel: "Every year she had me watch some clay animated thing. Gave me nightmares though."

Rohan: “Those Christmas specials?”

Ariel: "Yeah."

Rohan: “Why did they give you nightmares?”

Ariel: "Something about a monster. One really had a monster!"

Rohan: “It did?” It had been so long since Rohan had seen one, he couldn’t immediately guess which one Ariel might’ve been talking about.

“I just remember the Rudolph one and some elves and the heat and snow miser.”

Ariel: "I think it was a yeti in mine." His brow wrinkled. "Something about a penguin on a bed? I haven't watched in so long."

Ariel headed down the stairs to the TV, turning on one of his calmer, soul R&B playlists, heading back to the foot of the stairs to wait on his man, hips slowly swaying.

"Come here, baby."

Rohan: Rohan was tempted to hunt those specials down just to sate his curiosity. He wanted to see what had given tiny Ariel nightmares instead of Christmas joy.

But right now he was far more interested in adult Ariel and the prospect of dancing with him.

“You’re turning me into someone who dances,” he said, smiling as he held his hand out for Ariel’s.

Ariel: "Gotta pay the dance toll dating me."

Rohan's hand was taken, pulled above Ariel's shoulder, encouraging chest to chest. His other hand dropped down on his lower back.

Dancing, the other form of sex. This would satiate him just fine. Maybe Rohan would even passively listen to the lyrics as his dance partner swayed, leading them in a tight twirl towards the kitchen.

Rohan: He kissed Ariel’s cheek and let his lips linger. “I’m happy to pay it.”

Passively? Oh, no. Rohan was actively listening to them as he moved with Ariel. Someone who cared as deeply about music as his DJ did wouldn’t randomly choose music.

The song was intentional, and he was listening the same way.

Ariel: "What's your toll?" What is something that's a part of you, you want me a part of?

Reluctantly released, it was his turn to twirl some pasta on a fork and offer.

Rohan: Rohan’s toll wasn’t quite as simple as Ariel’s, and he knew from experience that not everyone was willing to pay it.

Someday they’d have to get into it because it was bound to come up sooner or later but for now, he kept it light.

“Forehead kiss toll,” he said once he took the bite. “You have to let me give you one at least once a day.”

Ariel: "If once a day meant-" He stopped himself there before he came off as clingy. Dangerous territory this early. Instead, he laughed, and leaned over on his elbows.

"Go on." He tapped his forehead.

Rohan: If only Ariel knew that Rohan wouldn’t have minded him being clingy in the least. That it would’ve made him unbelievably happy that Ariel would even want to.

But only a day into their relationship, some things just hadn’t had the time to come up yet.

So Rohan would let Ariel’s sentence disappear into the air without asking him to finish it and lean over to kiss his forehead, letting his lips linger for just a moment like he had before.

Ariel: The love song ended, transitioning smoothly into another brand of soul R&B, with Ariel humming along, a look of bliss on his face as he took a bite, offered a bite, letting this be his pattern.

Too jazzed for sleep. To mellow to go out; seemed Rohan was more inclined to stay inside, and while he had been invited to his birthday party, there was little chance he would see him in between.

Rohan didn't seem the lying type. He would see him for his birthday. It was just... bliss.

Ariel looked around for his notebook. Excused himself back upstairs to retrieve it. Another song title for his next album.

Rohan: Rohan had indeed promised to return for Ariel’s birthday party and so he would, but that didn’t mean he was going to let his remaining hours with Ariel just pass without savoring every second.

There was something beautifully domestic about this scene, about Ariel feeding them both while they listened to music. Not that Rohan would say that out loud, and certainly not this soon.

The word ‘domestic’ tended to frighten people who weren’t ready to hear it or had never considered it before. It was a word that had the power to cause discomfort, to prompt escape, to bring relationships to a screeching halt. ‘Domestic’ was something not everyone wanted and more often than not, those who did want it had to keep it to themselves.

“Did you remember something?”

Ariel: Ariel glanced up from his notebook and smiled. No, he would not be showing his first drafts. The notebook was kept to himself.

"Music stuff. When I think of lyrics and shit, it goes in here." He would show the thickness of the pages, half closing the book to show how far he had come.

"That's the last two albums. Not a lot of lyrics but, ideas."

Rohan: He would neither try to take a peek at what Ariel was writing nor would he ask, despite his curiosity. If Ariel wanted to share, he would have.

Rohan smiled, feeling proud for reasons he couldn't name. "Do all of your ideas end up being used?"

Ariel: He shook his head. "But I keep em. Maybe for something else."

The notebook was closed with his pen as a bookmark.

"Did your parents not listen to music?"

Rohan: “They listened to Leonard Cohen,” Rohan said with a smile. “My dad really likes classical music so he’d put that on, too. My mom would listen to whatever he listened to but I can’t remember her ever choosing to put music on. Her thing is movies. She loves them.”

Ariel: "So they're both still around?"

Rohan: “They are,” he nodded. “I try to see them as often as I can.”

Ariel: "How often is that?"

Rohan: “It used to be at least twice a month but for the past few months, I’ve gone every week.”

Ariel: He thought about Jessica, and how often he called his grandparents after moving to New York.

"Something happen?"

Rohan: “No, I just have more time now. Much to their delight.”

He would’ve expected the opposite with Xavier living in Thailand but, with the house practically empty, life on the estate was far less busy than usual.

Ariel: How long was that drive? Rohan really did have money.

Being a witch wasn't taken into account. In Ariel's eyes, magic wasn't the answer for everything. At least, he didn't want it to be. Life would be a bit boring.

He realized he let the silence stretch just a bit too long.

"I called mine a lot when I was homesick. Why I asked."

Rohan: Rohan gave Ariel a sympathetic nod. "I understand. I think the only reason I've never experienced much homesickness is because I've never given myself the time for it to take root. There hasn't ever been a point in my life where I've been away from them for an extended period of time, even when I moved away. We talk every day, we exchange letters. They're always with me in one way or another."

Ariel: "So... family's a big deal for you." Saying it out loud, he wasn't certain how he was supposed to feel. Happy for him, sure, but for them, what that would mean for their relationship. Was that too much to think too soon? He didn't think so. Best to nip things in the bud before they took root, to borrow Rohan's phrasing.

He didn't see a problem with it.

Rohan: “They’re my only blood family, so yes. I don’t have any siblings and neither do they. My grandparents are all dead. I’m all they have. Being able to take care of them means a lot to me.”

Ariel: "They have you late in life?"

Rohan: He didn’t want to lie, but maybe a small white one wouldn’t be too bad. It had only been a day…

Promising himself that he’d correct it as soon as he could, Rohan nodded. “They did, yes.”

Ariel: "My family's kinda the opposite." He didn't know why he was lingering on the subject, and decided to push it away with one more offered bite. His quiet laugh was brief.

"You know what I'm gonna say, right?"

Rohan: Rohan took the bite with a smile. Once again, if Ariel didn’t elaborate, he wouldn’t pry.

“That you can’t remember how we ended up here?”

Ariel: "Never fed anyone," he smiled.

Rohan: Well now he was beaming. “I’m really enjoying being so many of your firsts. Makes me feel special.”

Ariel: "How many more can we cram in before ten?"

Rohan: "That depends on what you want to do next. Have you ever taken a night walk with someone just because or had a drink with someone on the roof?"

Ariel: "Yes to the roof thing. Does walking around Vegas count?"

Rohan: "Sure it does, as long as you weren't alone."

Rohan hesitated for only a moment before convincing himself to say, "If you ever visit me in California...we can go for a night drive. See the stars."

Ariel: His smile softened. "Haven't done that in forever. Like, since I was a kid."

Rohan: “Would you like to? Visit me and go for a night drive, that is.”

Ariel: "We can drive til we see redwoods."

Rohan: “Have you ever seen them before? They’re…” Rohan smiled and shook his head at himself, suddenly feeling shy.

Ariel: "What's that?" He licked his lips and leaned forward, chin in his folded arms.

Rohan: “I was going to say they’re breathtaking but is that too much of a cliche?”

Ariel: "Not from you," he grinned.

Rohan: That grin wasn't helping his shyness one little bit.

"Well, they are. The longer you look at them and think about them the more unfathomable they become. I really would like to take you to see them."

Ariel: And this was just day one.

"I'm down." He thought for a moment, considering what he could show Rohan.

"You never been to Seattle? Any of the islands?"

Rohan: "To Seattle yes. I’ve been a few times. I don't think I've been to any of the islands though."

Ariel: "I got family out that way. Can island hop."

Rohan: “Deal. I’ll take you to the redwoods and you take me to the islands. We can each be a ‘first’ for each other.”

Ariel: "You... into that kinda thing? Meeting... family?"

Rohan: “A romantic partner’s family you mean?” Rohan asked softly.

Ariel: He stared at his food for a moment. Weighing the severity of Rohan's gentle tone and why he had even asked. After Jessica, he hadn't thought much of the word romantic. And with no man wanting more than a fuck buddy, this was just... new. New and unusual.

"Yeah," he said, equally tender.

Rohan: “I can’t say I’ve had many opportunities to meet a partner’s family or have them meet mine.” It had been a very, very long time since he’d been serious enough with someone to even consider that. A decade or perhaps even longer.

“So to answer your question…I don’t know. I think the timing would have to be right and everyone would have to be comfortable with it for that to happen.”

Ariel: "Not a casual thing, then," just so he was clear.

Rohan: Rohan shook his head. “No. Not a casual thing.”

Ariel: It was a lot for twenty-four hours, but even now, with everything he knew, he could only nod. He knew what he'd got himself into last night.

"So, wait, what are we watching?" he laughed.

Rohan: “We don’t have to watch anything,” Rohan chuckled. “We can go for a walk or go get dessert at the diner. Whatever you want.”

Ariel: "You full?" He wanted to pull him into a kiss at that moment, just because. Maybe there was another reason, but he didn't care. He just wanted to, so he would.

Rohan: The reason made no difference to Rohan. Ariel wanted to kiss him and he wanted to kiss Ariel, and that was enough.

“There’s always room for dessert.”

Ariel: "I thought I got a tiramisu. I think they didn't - I think they forgot it. Yeah. Let's go out."

Rohan: “All right, let’s go.”

But first, clothes. Ariel was finally going to get a chance to see him in something other than a suit by way of jeans and a T-shirt.

Ariel: Ariel was watching with the same intensity as Rohan's nudity. Jeans, blue shoes and shirt, and his hands were on his boyfriend's hips before five minutes could pass, even as he pocketed his wallet and keys.

Rohan: Rohan noticed Ariel staring and laughed. “What, do I look that strange? This is more my element than the suits.”

Ariel: "I guess I imprinted on the other thing," he laughed.

Rohan: “Most people who know me are in the opposite camp. The suit is strange for them.”

Ariel: "I like nothing best. Just saying." Getting out the door was going to take a minute. He had to pull Rohan into his arms.

Rohan: He grinned and shook his head. “As much as I hate to deny you, your favorite would get me arrested for public indecency.”

Have a kiss to make up for it.

Ariel: As much as he wanted to lock the door and rip apart Rohan's clothes with bare hands, he didn't want him to assume that was all their relationship would be.

But Rohan really didn't make it easy.

A little more groping, squeezing Rohan's ass in his jeans, admiring the feel in his palm and ready to admire the shape as soon as he had the view.

"Christmas came early this year."

Rohan: It was both flattering and a little bewildering that a man like Ariel would find someone like him so alluring just for wearing jeans or simply existing. Not that Rohan had ever thought himself unappealing, this was just something he hadn't experienced with anyone before.

He was enjoying it more than he wanted to admit.

"Sweet talker," he laughed. "Come on, let's go eat cake."

Ariel: "I got cake right here," he giggled, holding a handful of Rohan's ass as he finally caught up. He'd seen all he needed to see. If he took another second to admire, his clothes would become a hindrance.

"That was off-color, my bad. I mean you got assets," he grinned.

Rohan: Rohan just kept laughing, shaking his head. Ariel really was like no one else he’d ever been with.

“You’re going to give me such a massive ego if you keep that up.” He took that groping hand and laced their fingers together so it would behave.

Ariel: "I wanna see that." And he meant it, more than a tease. He wanted to see Rohan with heaps of confidence. Already a strong and quiet force, he was just a little too modest. It was undeserving. Ariel had time and patience to mend that fracture. Maybe an opportunity to face the cause head-on. Maybe punch the demon in the face.

"You pick dessert. Anywhere you wanna go."

Rohan: The likelihood of Rohan actually getting a swollen ego was slim, but who was to say? Maybe Ariel would succeed in boosting his confidence.

“Hmm…” Rohan took his phone out of his pocket. “I know I just said cake but…I kind of want a cannoli. Or several.”

Ariel: "Can go to the same place we - I got dinner." It was too soon for we. He really needed to calm down. He was certainly getting ahead of himself.

Rohan: Rohan didn’t mind the ‘we’ but if Ariel felt the need to correct himself, that meant that he did mind. For now at least.

“Then let’s go there. Lead the way.”

Ariel: "Off - uhhhhh that way! A mile... ish!" There was only a moment's hesitation before offering his arm. Trying to be casual about it, but he was biting his lip.

Rohan: Of course Rohan would take it, with a smile and no hesitation. Usually he was the one to offer his arm so this was a nice change.

Ariel was giving him some firsts, too.

Ariel: Conversation wasn't a chore with Rohan, and neither was silence. But he didn't want silence. He wanted Rohan's voice.

"What's your favorite city?"

Rohan: He thought for a moment. “I don’t spend too much time in cities but I’ll always love Bucharest. Spokane is a smaller city but I love it, too. New York.”

Ariel: "What's Bucharest like?"

Rohan: “Very European. Lots of beautiful old buildings, not really any skyscrapers, looks like a kaleidoscope at night.”

Ariel: "Is it, like, all cobblestone, like in the movies?"

Rohan: “A lot of the smaller streets are but there are smaller towns where it’s all cobblestone.”

Ariel: "You ever played the - ever seen Resident Evil Village?" Because of course he didn't play video games.

Rohan: Rohan shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. I feel like that sounds familiar though.”

Ariel: "You, uh, really don't play any games, huh?"

Rohan: “Not really, no. A friend of mine likes to take me to arcades though.”

Ariel: "Arcades?"

Rohan: Rohan nodded. “Yep. He has a talent for finding them, and not just that. Last Halloween he went to go explore a clown motel that was next to an old cemetery.”

Ariel: "My brain can't register what you just said," he laughed.

Rohan: “He sent me pictures,” Rohan chuckled. “I’ll look for them once we have our dessert. It looked like something out a fever dream.”

Ariel: "Sounds like it. You like that kinda thing?"

Rohan: “Haunted clown motels in the middle of the desert?”

Ariel: "Really weird and random shit, yeah," he laughed.

Rohan: He nodded. “I do. It’s always so interesting looking into places like that. I used to work for a historical archive so I came across a lot of weird.”

Ariel: "You told me about that. Like, what kinda history? Like a city, or religious?"

Rohan: “Local history. This was back in Spokane.”

Ariel: "So you know everything there is to know about Spokane."

Rohan: “I did at one point. There’s a lot of reportedly haunted locations there, that I remember.”

Ariel: "So why did you leave?"

Rohan: “I met Rossmara and he offered me a job.”

Ariel: "You wanted out?"

Rohan: “I don’t think it ever occurred to me until he came along. The work I do now is more challenging, I have more freedom. Sometimes I miss the archive but whenever I do, I just go visit.”

Ariel: He was watching Rohan as often as he watched the bustling street. This conversation felt like their breakfast. A lot of getting to know you’s.

"When's the last time you went?"

Rohan: "Must have been...hmm..." Rohan squinted into the distance as he thought back. "About eight months, I think. Maybe closer to a year. It's been a while."

Ariel: Ariel remembered their conversation back at the house. The gravity of meeting family. That had to go hand-in-hand with hometowns. Tempting to offer his company so soon.

"I guess one day I'll see." He shoved his hands into his pockets.

Rohan: Rohan smiled and nodded. He hadn’t missed the way his DJ kept looking at him or the unspoken things hanging in the air around them.

It seemed they were both very aware of how new this was and how much they still couldn’t say.

“You will. I’ll show you the little shoebox office I used to have.”

Ariel: There was an instance of concern, worried he felt too strong too fast, but intense feelings had never stopped him before. He lived for them. Drugs, music, sex, dance...

"You said you got a cabin now? You lived in one back in Spokane, too?"

Rohan: “I do, yes. I have a parcel of land on the estate all to myself now but in Spokane…” He smiled.

“I lived in an apartment in a building that was formerly a hotel that was very, very haunted.”

Ariel: "You saw some shit?"

Rohan: He shook his head. “Shadows sometimes but never a full-blown apparition. Mostly I heard and felt things. Footsteps, knocking sounds, whispering. Things like that.”

Ariel: "That's when you knew you're a witch?" Still trippy to think about.

Rohan: “Oh, I’ve known my whole life. Lots of us do.”

Ariel: "How'd you always know?"

Rohan: “Well, for starters both of my parents are witches, too. Magic was a part of my life before I was even born.”

Ariel: Ariel blinked and blinked again. "Did you tell me that this morning?"

Rohan: “About my parents?” Rohan frowned in thought. “I don’t think I did.”

Ariel: Made sense of he hasn't. As much as he loved Rohan's company, they were very new to all of this, and a conversation about that had been tender since the moment he felt Rohan's bracelet.

He didn't want to think too deeply.

"What kinda magic they do?" he asked, his tone private.

Rohan: Yes, it certainly had. Rohan knew that at some point they were going to have to have a proper conversation about the bracelet and everything surrounding it, sooner rather than later, but not yet.

Although they were comfortable around each other, they needed time to work up to heavier conversations.

“Nature-related mostly. A few years ago they bought a small parcel of land and they’ve been reforesting it.”

Ariel: "Oh, that's cool." He scoffed at his own statement. "I dunno what else to say. I sound dumb."

Rohan: “You don’t,” said Rohan. “It makes me happy that you want to know about me, or even just that you care enough to ask.”

Ariel: "Well, yeah. Did your last boyfriend not do anything?"

Rohan: “It’s not that, it’s just nice and…it’s been a while.”

Ariel: He almost asked how long, and then realized he didn't care. He had him, now. What really mattered more?

Biting his lip, he offered his hand.

Rohan: It was taken with a smile and without a hint of hesitation.

"How much further?"

Ariel: "Just over there," he pointed. A group of locals were heading their direction, talking loudly and not paying any attention. Typical, and without a word, Rohan was gently directed to Ariel's other side.

Rohan: Rohan didn't even think to pay the other people any mind until Ariel had shielded him from them in his own subtle way. He didn't need it, and it would've been no trouble at all to simply brush past them, but he let Ariel do it anyway because everything about the gesture made something warm and almost painfully tender bloom in his chest.

That Ariel would think to do it, that he did it as if it were second nature just...

Rohan squeezed his hand and smiled. "Let's go get our cannolis."

Ariel: Ariel hadn't missed a beat. He took Rohan's other hand and gave it a gentle swing. The gesture hadn't been a contemplated thought, just as Rohan suspected.

A line was leading out of the restaurant, despite the hour. Eager locals and tourists alike dressed a notch better than the pair. Ariel hesitated, bringing Rohan in front of him to hold from behind, chin resting on his shoulder.

"Yeah, I don't think it's going to happen," he sighed, amusement in his voice.

Rohan: Perhaps Rohan should've seen it coming given how good the food was, but seeing that line still caused a disappointed but amused sigh to match Ariel's tone. There would be no cannolis for them tonight.

"Definitely not," he chuckled, leaning back against his boyfriend. "Well, we still have the diner. I seem to recall a certain DJ praising their cheesecake bites last night and I have to say, I'm very curious to see if they live up to the hype."

It meant more walking but Rohan didn't mind. He was enjoying walking around with Ariel, and wherever they ended up didn't matter nearly as much as spending as much time with him as he could before he had to leave in the morning.

Ariel: Rohan might feel the smile against his skin. Their bodies were swayed back and forth as Ariel hummed. Yes, but no more walking. They had traveled in the opposite direction. It was time for another Uber. Just a little more time, but following Rohan's thoughts, Ariel didn't mind, so long as they were doing something together.

"Want to-go?" Whatever Rohan wanted was fine. Ariel perked, suggesting the roof of his apartment building for some romantic skyline.

Rohan: Snuggling together in the back of a car was even more appealing than walking hand in hand, and Rohan was glad for the suggestion. Anything that got them home quicker, where they didn't have to worry about the intrusion on their time by other people, was just fine by him.

The prospect of having their dessert with a view wasn't bad either.

Both the sugar and the fresh air helped Rohan's tiredness but not enough to chase it away completely. Reluctant as he was to give into it, sleep would have to come eventually, which would essentially bring their time together to an end. All the more reason to hold Ariel has tightly as he could in the meantime.

Ariel: Ariel would make the most of the time they had together. The closer to sleep the more mournful he felt. Exhaustion was dutifully ignored for the promise of just one more minute. Holding Rohan's back to his chest as they watched the sky. Just another minute to feed one more little bite of cheesecake. To rest his chin against his shoulder. To whisper his desires back in the bedroom. Just one more minute before sleep. One more minute to enjoy the weight of Rohan's cheek against his chest. And upon waking, just one more minute to arouse his boyfriend from sleep with his mouth.

Until next time.

#Madam X's Shoulder Strap #rohandalca #arielcassidy

2 notes · View notes

ramblingdisaster73 · 2 years

Text

Oh, yours brought home a stray too?

Carlos heard the shower turn off and decided that he should get out bed. He had to get showered, start prepping breakfast, and get the loft all set for his guests. He heard the bathroom door open and turned to see his boyfriend walking towards him with only a towel around his waist.

TK stopped when he was only inches from him, leaning in to give him a good morning kiss. After he pulled away, he continued to cross the room for the clothes he had placed on the bench at the end of their bed. “What did you say you have going on today while I am at ‘team building’ day on the Ryder farm?” TK asks him in a less than enthusiastic tone.

“Grace and Charlie are coming over for breakfast, then we are going to the farmers market. We may throw a little venting about our crazy significant others in there as well.” Carlos teased.

“What could you possibly have to vent about me?” TK asked with his most innocent expression.

Carlos just shot the man a look, one that probably said all he needed to say about that, but just in case his boyfriend didn’t pick up on it, “Really TK? You can’t possibly think of anything that may cause nightmares for the foreseeable future?”

Once TK was ready to leave for his day off with the 126 he walked back over to Carlos “You know you will miss Lou eventually. I love you and will call if I need a rescue. My dad always has the most random ideas for ‘team building’.” Kissing Carlos one more time before he heads out.

Carlos pulled him back for one more kiss before letting the other man go, “I love you too. Have fun.”

“But not too much?” TK asked with a mischievous grin.

“You are an ass. Go have fun mucking out stalls.” Carlos told him as he turned towards their bedroom.

“I really hope you are wrong about that.” TK said with a shudder as he walked out of the loft, leaving a laughing Carlos behind.

Carlos spent the next hour getting the new breakfast casserole he had wanted to try into the oven, showering, and setting up the baby stuff they had bought for when Jonah or Charlie come over. They had a high chair, pack n play, and assorted toys stored in the garage. TK had brought everything up last night before Carlos had arrived home from work, knowing that Carlos planned to have it all set up so that Grace didn’t have to worry about bringing a whole nursery with her.

He had just pulled the food out to cool a little when he heard a knock at the door. He almost ran across, excited to spend the day with people that didn’t partially live in a fire house. He quickly took the excited baby from her mother, laughing when Grace exaggerated shaking her arms out once her heavy load was removed.

“It smells amazing in here. Is that the recipe you told me about?” Grace asked as they ventured into the kitchen.

“Yeah, TK was more than a little jealous. By the way, do you know what the team building is?” Carlos asked as he grabbed plates and silverware for them, plastic for Charlie.

“Nope, I didn’t even ask. My husband is lucky he hasn’t been sleeping on the couch.” Grace told him, her smile contradicting her statement.

“TK shares that with him. I told TK I thought they would be mucking out stalls.” Carlos replied. “What did Judd do?” Carlos asked as they took their food to the dining room table.

“Last week, my coworker Dave, had a call go bad. I offered to have him come over for dinner, not wanting him to be alone right after his shift. Well, he and my darling husband bonded. When I went to bed they both had a small amount of bourbon in their glasses, the next morning I wake up, go to the kitchen. There is Dave, holding my daughter. Cooking, something, I blocked out what.” Grace informed him.

“How did that happen?” Carlos asked as he made faces at Charlie in between bites of his food. He laughed when she took a handful of egg and smashed them into the tray of the high chair.

“I guess they had a few more glasses, so Judd offered the couch out of safety. Then proceeded to offer it for a whole week.” Grace added.

“Did they drink a distillery?”

“Some unidentified plumbing issues. I spent the last week spending virtually every waking moment with the man. We car pooled each day, he used all the hot water each day, he made a constant mess each day, oh and instead of recording our daughter’s first steps, because my husband left her with him, he recorded himself talking about her first steps.” Grace finished.

“Did he leave yet?”

“Oh, yeah yesterday. He told me that we were smothering and he only stayed because we wanted him too so badly. Judd is prohibited from bringing any other strays home for a while.” Grace told him with a smile.

“Speaking of strays, my darling boyfriend brought home a snake with legs. One that was pulled out of a guy’s leg. He brought it here. Where we live. In a take-out container. And Tommy and Nancy let him.” Carlos volunteered, not yet recovered from that experience.

“Not a fan of reptiles? And why did he bring it home?” Grace asked.

“No, I hate them. All of them. He brought it home because I said that I wanted a pet. I meant one that you can actually pet, not one that induces nightmares.” Carlos told her.

“I guess that explains that empty aquarium over there?” She asked.

“Yes. We finally released him yesterday before work. I finally found the little demon basking under the desk lamp. Unfortunately, it wasn’t until the loft was a torn apart that he made his location known.” Carlos told her. He laughed as he added “TK was so confused when he got back from a meeting and I was on the chair, all the furniture was in disarray, the plants were broken or torn from their pots. He thought he had been robbed. Then when I told him that I found his ‘friend’ Lou, he thought I had killed it.”

“Why would he have thought you killed it?” Grace asks no longer trying to conceal her laughter at Carlos’ tale.

“I may have said “I got him”, that could have been what prompted that thought. Fortunately, TK realized that it was time to let the lizard go home, to his real home, outside of our home.” Carlos stated with one more shudder.

“Judd was lucky that he realized that it was beyond time for Dave to leave after the whole Charlie walking video debacle. My husband then decided to risk his limbs when he asked ‘when are you gonna tell him?’” Grace told him, air quotes and all. “He was lucky that I couldn’t actually kill him with a look.”

“TK put a container of meal worms on the counter, by our food. He was also lucky that looks can’t kill. Those creepy little monsters need to stay in the desert, not where I live.” Carlos added with another round of shuddering.

Grace was clearly struggling not to laugh at Carlos’ when she asked “They really are so much alike. They will both deny it, but I swear the two of them share the same braincell sometimes. Do you remember when they could barely be in the same building as each other?”

Carlos chuckled as he replied “Oh yeah, I remember. I was annoyed with TK one night at the bar. We had finally decided to go on an actual date, and he was fixated on Judd as soon as you two entered the bar. He hated being called the ‘coach’s kid’. He said it happened all the time in New York, and he had hoped for that to stop when they moved here.”

“I remember that night. They were both so stubborn, I mean they still are, just as a united front instead of opposing sides.” Grace said.

They finished their breakfast and quickly cleaned up so they could get to the farmers market before it got too busy. They rode together in Grace’s car, listening to what could only be kids songs and nursery rhymes the whole way, Charlie babbling along.

“So how have you been?” Grace asked. At his questioning look, she added “Since the whole Owen’s stalker situation.” As they roamed through the aisles of booths selling all sorts of homemade items.

“Oh that. Yeah that was awful. Watching TK realize what had been stolen from him, in our home was almost worse than watching him when he walked away from me last fall.” Carlos told her.

“How are you doing though?” She asked.

“Me? I am ok. I mean it makes me mad. It makes me so angry that this woman was so obsessed with Owen that she was willing to drug us to get to him. TK passed out before I did though. It hit him first, maybe because of the walking or due to his past, I am not sure but, he had fallen face first on the floor right outside of our bedroom, I could only see his feet when I passed out too. I was so terrified, not for the first time, but that was the last thing I remember, being terrified that TK was already dead.” Carlos told her, finally talking someone besides TK what he had felt that night.

“How is TK doing?” She asked as they stopped at a booth with an assortment of rag dolls, she laughed when Charlie started pointing at them.

“Honestly, sometimes I think he is doing better than me with it. He has a sponsor now, he hadn’t had one since New York, he has been going to meetings daily, sometimes more if he needs it.” He responded.

“Why do you think he is doing better with it?” She asked once Charlie had picked out one of the dolls.

“I didn’t exactly take the whole having a sponsor situation the best.” He told her.

“Why?” she retorted.

He guided her over to a lemonade stand, buying them both one before going over to a shaded seating area that was currently empty. “All of a sudden TK was talking about this guy Cooper, like a lot. Then I met the guy, who is attractive by the way. I acted like an idiot. The day I met Cooper was the first time that TK felt he needed a second meeting. Instead of paying attention to what that meant for him, that he was struggling more, I acted like a jealous moron. It didn’t get better when he got home that night. I threw myself a petty dinner party for 1.”

“I doubt it was that bad. Things are better now though, with you and the sponsor or whatever?”

“Yeah, I had to get out of my own head and look at it from TK’s perspective. He was also extremely patient with me, doing what he could to reassure me of my place in his life. However, now that its all out in the open and figured out, things have actually been really good. I think that was why I didn’t demand that he release the creepy escape artist be immediately evicted. It made him smile, and I had really missed seeing him smile so much.” Carlos told her.

“Carlitos?” was called from someone at a booth by the seating area.

Carlos turned his head; he would know that voice anywhere. “Mom. I didn’t know you were coming here this morning.” He said as he leaned in for a hug. “Grace, this is my mom Andrea Reyes. Mom, this is Grace and Charlie Ryder, Grace is a dispatcher and married to one of the 126 firefighters.”

He laughed as his mom pulled Grace in for a hug, knowing that his mother rarely greeted anyone without one, especially if they were connected in any way to her family. No one stayed a stranger for long when it came to Andrea Reyes. “Is dad with you?” he asked.

“No, he is working, thank goodness.” The last part muttered more than spoken clearly.

“What did he do now?” Carlos asked.

“He brought home chickens.” Andrea answered.

“Chickens? Why?” Carlos inquired.

“For the fresh eggs of course. We will save so much money on eggs. I asked him where they would be going as we do not have a chicken coop, nor do I want one. He took me behind the barn, where he had built a chicken coop.” Andrea told them. She raised her brows at the duo as they were struggling to breathe through their laughter.

“Apparently dad and TK were on the same page this week.” Carlos said.

“You have chickens in your loft?” Andrea asked him.

“No, and please do not mention that to TK, he would probably jump all over it, then I would have to try to convince Owen to let him have them there. No, TK brought home a lizard he named Lou.” He told his mom.

“But you hate reptiles, or really any animal without fur.” She said with confusion.

“It hadn’t come up in conversation over the last couple years. I had been telling him I wanted to get a pet, he thought he was providing a solution to a problem, not adding a problem. It escaped for two whole days. It was awful. Fortunately, TK took mercy on me and we took the lizard back to the area he had been found in, or at least the geographical location if not the actual location.” Carlos told her.

“What does that mean?” Andrea asked them. “Did you have strays brought home too?”

Grace managed to answer “A guy’s leg.” Between fits of laughter. “My husband didn’t really bring a stray home, that was my fault. I offered a coworker dinner after a hard shift, my husband told him he could stay for a week.”

“You all certainly do not live boring lives. I see your Tia Lucy waving me down, I should probably go before she gets us in trouble.” Andrea told them as she gave them both hugs. “Grace, it was delightful to meet you and your beautiful daughter. Carlitos, I will see you and TK on Sunday, yes? Give TK my love.” she accepted his nod as confirmation.

“It was great meeting you as well. I hope you are able to stay out of trouble.” Grace told her as she and Charlie waved goodbye. “Your mom is hilarious.”

“Yeah she really is. Uh oh, it looks like someone is getting tired” Carlos noticed as they watched Charlie rub her eyes and snuggle her new doll close to her.

“I think I might be ready for nap time too. Are you ready to head out?” Grace asked.

“Yeah, I have a few things to get done before TK gets home. A nap doesn’t sound too bad either.” Carlos told her.

A half an hour later, Carlos was back at home and Grace and Charlie were on their way to nap town. He looked around the room, trying to remember what was on his to do list for the afternoon, when he couldn’t come up with anything he decided that curling up with TK’s blanket on the couch would be the best way to spend the afternoon. He hadn’t realized how tiring it could be following a walking and crawling child; he didn’t know how Grace and Judd kept up with their little ball of energy. He heard a notification on his phone just as he was closing his eyes. There was a picture of a sleeping Charlie, she hadn’t even made it all the way home before heading into dreamland. The follow up text made him smile even more.

Grace: We need to get together more often. We had fun today.

Carlos: I did too. Let me know next time you are free. We can even include Judd and TK.

Grace: Sounds like a plan. Oh, and I need that recipe for this morning please!

Carlos: I will email it to you!

#Down to Clown #lonestardaily #lonestars3charwk #carlos reyes #grace ryder #TK Strand #911ls fic #missing scene 3x15

17 notes · View notes

valleyrunearchives · 2 years

Text

Weightless (The Leap of a Jade Rabbit)

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Fandom: Boku No Hero Academia/My Hero Academia Pairings: Aizawa Shouta/Yamada Hizashi Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence

Chapter 21/?

Midoriya Izuku stopped believing in heroes when a tragedy occurred in his life. When at the tender age of 11, he lost everything that was everything dear to him, everything that was worth living for. Yet he doesn’t give up. He can’t give up. He decides to make a choice instead. No longer will he stand around and wait for the heroes to arrive while a crime goes down. He’ll be his own hero and a hero to those who are just like him. Those waiting for help that will never arrive. In order to do that, though, he’ll have to fight to survive and lie through his teeth. It won’t be so bad!

After all, it’s not like they can bring him in for vigilantism and Illegal Quirk Usage when he doesn’t even have a quirk, right?

<=Previous First Next=>

Click here to Read on AO3

Izuku blinks tiredly as he stares out the window of the car, watching the scenery pass by. Who knew packing up a few boxes, just four of them too, then ferrying them down a building could make someone so sleepy. The still bleeding wound in his side probably doesn’t help with that fact either. He yawns with a bit of a stretch and winces as said wound pulls a bit. He makes a small groan and leans his forehead against the window. He glances towards the front out of the corner of his eye as Shouta hangs up the phone. Hizashi also glances over from his spot behind the wheel, asking, “So what’d she say?”

“Exactly what I thought she would,” Shouta responds, putting his phone away, “She berated me for two minutes straight for not calling her before now. Then said she’d be over as soon as possible. She’s pretty sure she’ll arrive at the house about five or ten minutes after us, at most.”

“Perfect! That’ll give us just enough time to get Izu’s boxes into the house and up to the guest room!” He tilts his head a bit to let Izuku know he’s talking to him, “The guest room isn’t really fitted for someone your age though! So we’ll need to go shopping later!”

“Shopping?” Izuku’s confused, “For what?”

“Well all that’s in there right now is a bed and a bedside table. So we’ll need to get you a desk and chair. A dresser for your clothes. Maybe a bookshelf? Some curtains. Another set of sheets, just for you! Oh! You’ll also need some more clothes - not too many luckily. Some more notebooks, pens and pencils! Hygiene stuff too! Soaps, brushes, combs, a toothbrush to keep in the bathroom. Need to get you some oil for those curls of yours too. They are suffering! We’ll just make a day of it!” He catches a glimpse of a bright smile on the blonde’s face.

“I… I don’t think I’ll need that much,” he argues as he sits back up to look at him.

“Of course you do, silly! You’re going to be living with us for the foreseeable future. You need things that are yours for your room!” Hizashi smiles then practically squeals with the next line, “We should get you things like books and posters and plushies too! Those are so fun!”

What? Why does he need things like that? He opens his mouth to argue with him again but Shouta cuts him off, “Don’t bother trying to fight him kid. When he gets something like this on his mind, he won’t let it go until it happens.”

“Damn straight!” Hizashi chirps happily.

Izuku slouches a bit at that. Shouta notices in the rearview mirror and reassures him that it won’t be as bad as he’s thinking it is. Izuku mentally disagrees wholeheartedly but he won’t say anything for now. Instead he keeps quiet the whole rest of the way back to Shouta and Hizashi’s home. When they arrive, he carefully gets out of the car as Shouta and Hizashi both move to the trunk. Hizashi opens it up and pulls one of the boxes out, “Think you can get two, babe?”

Shouta grunts in affirmation and takes the current box. “Um… I can carry one,” Izuku pipes up.

“Absolutely not!” The look Hizashi levels at him over the rim of his glasses makes his hackles stand on end, “You, sir, are injured. All you’re going to do is walk with us into the house before sitting your butt down on the couch to cuddle with Bassy until Chiyo-san arrives.”

“Bassy?”

“That’s what Zashi calls Bastard,” Shouta tells him then grunts as Hizashi loads another box onto the one he’s holding. The blonde glares strongly at his husband, “Because she doesn’t deserve to be called that! She’s a sweet, gentle angel!”

The darker haired man rolls his eyes, “Yeah. Now that she’s older than a little kitty and doesn’t beg for attention and food all day long.”

Hizashi grabs the last two boxes with a scowl and a grumble. He closes the trunk and all three of them head for the front door. Despite having their hands full, Hizashi is easily able to pass the keys to Shouta who in turn is easily able to unlock the door with one hand. Izuku feels terribly guilty for not helping but can’t really say anything about it since they told him he wasn’t allowed to. They head inside and Shouta immediately heads for, what he guesses, the guest room. Hizashi motions with his head for him to go sit on the couch. He follows the instructions without a fuss.

Bastard comes and jumps up next to him a moment later. She meows and kneads at his thigh to get him to pet her. He doesn’t deny her either. How could he? He’s already said he would do anything for her, including maim or kill. And he takes that promise seriously. He focuses solely on her happy purrs to the point that he doesn’t even hear the sound of a camera shutter going off. Instead, the next sound he’s actively aware of is footsteps stopping right in front of him. He looks up to find Shouta standing above him. “How’re you feeling right now, kid?” Shouta asks him.

He shrugs, “I’m alright. Hurting. Bleeding. But I’ve had worse. It’ll be fixed soon anyway.”

A sound reminiscent of a tea kettle’s whistle resounds throughout the area. Izuku looks around for the source of the noise but Shouta just gives a look over his shoulder, hair floating with the use of his quirk, “Zashi. Stop that.”

“I am upset!” Is the furious reply, “I am upset, and I am allowed to be!”

“You are but there’s no reason to practice the art of shattering glass like an opera singer while being upset!”

“Would murder be more acceptable?! Because, honey, I am tempted!”

The darker haired male face palms at that with a groan, letting his quirk go, “I’m electing to not give a response to that because you know the answer!”

“What’s he so upset about?” Izuku asks curiously. He can’t recall anything in particular that he’s done to make Hizashi so upset. But it was possible he did something and didn’t realize it.

Shouta just waves him off with a blank look, “Nothing, kiddo. Zashi’s just being dramatic. Don’t worry, everything’s fine.”

Izuku shrugs. If Shouta says it’s fine, then it must be okay. Hopefully. A knock at the door catches both of their attentions. Shouta mumbles something about how it must be Chiyo-san. And now Izuku feels nervous again. His bad experiences with other members of healthcare don’t exactly help either. Not to mention he’s never interacted with the Youthful Heroine. His brain that has been fully reliant on survival for the past year and some change is freaking out over the fact that he doesn’t know if Recovery Girl is safe for him to interact with.

A hand clasps his shoulder gently, drawing him out of the spiraling thoughts. Hizashi stands in front of him, bent over slightly so that they’re eye to eye. He’s smiling softly and keeping his hand as a steady and reaffirming weight on his shoulder. He takes an exaggerated deep breath which Izuku instinctively copies. Right. He’s got to remember that Hizashi and Shouta are listed as safe and that they wouldn’t bring in anybody who wasn’t also safe.

“Oh dear, I hope I didn’t cause that…” Izuku tense minutely again at the sound of the older female voice. He shyly looks over to see a small old woman standing next to Shouta. If Izuku didn’t already know who she was, he would’ve never guessed she was Recovery Girl. He mumbles a low hello.

“Oh dear me…” She says as she approaches him. She looks over all his injuries swiftly and tuts sadly, “This is much worse than I expected! Not to mention the remnants of that stab wound and the new gunshot wound on you, dear. You’re lucky you’re not on the floor right now!”

“Does that mean you can’t heal me?” he asks sadly.

“Oh, no, no! It just means I won’t be able to heal everything! My quirk relies on your stamina, after all. The most I’ll be able to do tonight is both the stab wound and the gunshot wound. Perhaps also some of the more dire cuts. I’m not going to push it on those bruises and scrapes though. Those will just have to heal on their own, I’m afraid.”

Oh. That wasn’t so bad. Certainly better than just leaving everything to just heal on its own. He nods in understanding to her. She gives him a smile, “Alright then. Just a quick kiss on the hand and it’s over! You’ll probably fall asleep fairly quickly though, so off to bed right after young man!”

“Y-yes ma’am,” He stutters.

A quick peck on his hand and immediately he feels like he hasn’t slept in weeks. His limbs feel boneless. He could probably fall over. But he’s not in the amount of pain he was before. So that’s nice. He yawns loudly as Hizashi starts prodding him up off the couch. Recovery Girl moves over to join Shouta and speak quietly about something happening at UA. Izuku practically stumbles to the bedroom that he guesses is now his for the next little while. Or at least until Shouta and Hizashi decide they don’t want him anymore.

He doesn’t realize that the blonde had followed him until his voice asks, “Do you have anything you can wear as jammies, listener?”

“Mmm… Maybe? I usually just sleep in whatever I’m wearing then change into different clothes in the morning. I think I have some sweatpants in the clothes box,” He sits down heavily on the bed with a jaw-cracking yawn, too tired to move much else.

Hizashi moves over to the boxes stacked on the other side of the room. He sifts through them until he finds the box full of Izuku’s clothes and starts to search it for said pair of sweatpants. Izuku watches him with bleary eyes from his perch on the bed. Hizashi makes a small noise of triumph when he finally pulls the pair of sweatpants out of the box. He passes them to Izuku then turns his back to him to give him a bit of privacy. It’s definitely uncoordinated but the boy does get his pants changed from the cargo pants he was wearing to the infinitely more comfortable lounging pants. He tosses the cargo pants at the lip of the box, which barely hit its mark. Hizashi takes that as his cue to turn back around.

Izuku shuffles weakly under the covers and lies down. The bed is very soft. Hizashi moves over and pulls the blanket up around him, tucking him in. A bit like a child. He guesses that’s fine. He is still one after all. A weight dipping into the bed makes him jump a bit. Hizashi looks over with a chuckle, “Looks like you’ve got a night time companion.”

He glances over to see what he’s talking about. Just in time to see Bastard settling down at his side. “Will she be okay sleepin’ next to me? I don’t wanna, like, roll over onto her or anythin’,” he slurs out.

“She won’t let you do that. Trust me!” Hizashi gives the siamese a quick pet before leaning down to press a kiss to Izuku’s forehead. Izuku blinks slowly, shocked, and reaches up to press his hand to the spot. The blonde looks a bit nervous at that, probably worried that he had stepped over a line.

“I haven’t had anyone kiss my forehead goodnight in a long time…” he confesses quietly, “‘s kinda nice.”

“Yeah? I’ll remember that then,” Hizashi reaches out and ruffles his curls gently, “Goodnight, bunny bean. You sleep for as long as you need. Shou and I will see you later in the day, ‘kay?”

“Night…” With that final word and Hizashi’s gentle touch still lingering in his hair, he closes his eyes and falls into a deep, warm sleep.

#bnha #bnha fanfic #bnha fanfiction #mha fanfic #mha fanfiction #vigilante izuku #aizawa shouta #homeless izuku midoriya #izuku midoryia #yamada hizashi #chiyo shuzenji #recovery girl

2 notes · View notes

chaseergen · 10 months

Text

Chase Ergen For The Best Tips And Tips On Real Estate Investing, This Is For You

Chase Ergen Professional tips provider. A good investor is someone who is really understands what they are putting their hard-earned money into. Don't be someone who just blindly follows someone who says that it is a good investment. That is the quickest way to lose everything. Below you will find a good article that will teach you how to spot a good investment. Continue on for good ideas and tips about investment.

As you evaluate your business plan, take into consideration set costs associated with the investment. Closing costs, legal fees, and other expenses can all add up quickly and cut into your profits. Include all costs when calculating your margins.

Always evaluate the neighborhood as a whole before you invest in any property there. Depressed neighborhoods aren't likely to give you a good ROI. Location is still a major factor in figuring out a property's value, even more than the actual property.

Always have a plan for your investments. What is your end goal? How are you going to achieve that? Are you in this by yourself or do you have any partners? Do you have the capital necessary to accomplish your goals or do you have a way to get it? It is important to spend time creating your plan that you know what direction you are going in.

Lean the basics of bookkeeping. It may be tempting to overlook this in the beginning. You've got a lot of stuff to think about. However, good accounting records are important. This will reduce the stress that you face during the process.

Never give up! Real estate investing is not a simple thing to jump into. There's a lot to learn, and you should expect quite a few bumps and bruises along the way. But with patience and increased skills from playing the game, you'll become better and better at it.

One of the best ways to determine if a neighborhood is worthy of your investment dollars is by researching it for vacancies. If you find out there are lots of vacant businesses and apartments in the area, chances are your property might be hard to rent.

Chase Ergen Qualified tips provider. If you invest in rental property, your tenants must be thoroughly screened. You do not want to wind up with a property that has been trashed. Running a background check can significantly reduce the odds that something bad will happen with a tenant.

Make sure that you have a plan before thinking about investing. Think about whether you want to purchase a buy and hold investor, a rehabber, a wholesaler or a flipper. Knowing where you're going to go with the investment will make it easier.

Try to have a good sized down payment. It is often easier to negotiate with a seller if you are bringing a good amount of cash to the closing table. It also makes mortgage approval easier. If you can pay cash, you don't have to worry about getting a mortgage at all.

Always approach real estate investment with an objective eye. How a house looks is important, but so are other factors like the neighborhood, noise levels, proximity to conveniences, crime rate, etc. The house can be the prettiest one on the block, but if it is really close to the train tracks, the noise will make it a less desirable spot.

You need to redefine your thinking when you invest. Disciplined investing involves sticking to a plan that is based on the science behind investing. Once you adopt that plan, you need to stay with it. For many, this is a hard way to think. You cannot foresee market conditions. Stick to your research and choose your next move wisely.

Always weigh your investment plans against current life events. You can have some major changes in your life or the lives of your family. These things need to be accounted for in your strategies. You do not want to put greater stress or risk on your investment plan. Adjust your plans accordingly.

Chase Ergen Expert tips provider. If you put too much emotion into your trading, you're not going to like the results. On top of that, you're not going to enjoy investing at all. Emotional trading will find you buying and selling at the wrong times and making the wrong moves. Instead, approach investing in a sensible manner, and exercise patience!

Understand your long term goals and your budget limits. What are you planning to save for with your investments? You may have multiple financial needs. Write them all down and know how much you need for them. Set goals for yourself.

One of the best ways you can help balance out your investment portfolio is to include both stocks and bonds. Bonds are essentially in direct competition with stocks. Bonds, along with precious metals, can be great assets to own when it comes to downward market trends and balancing out your investment in securities.

Do not take risks in highly volatile investments unless you can afford to lose the money. Although volatile stocks may promise you big returns, they may end in big losses too. The worse thing that can happen is for you to lose money that was meant to pay for basic expenses.

Invest in products and companies that have a future and are not just a fad that will quickly fade. Fads quickly come and go, leaving investors empty handed. But products that will always have a place in the market are a solid foundation that will produce for many years to come.

Learn about dollar averaging when you invest. That means you commit to investing a certain amount of money into something on a regular basis, regardless of the investment's performance. You may buy when the market is high or low, but over time, your investment will average out to be ahead.

Chase Ergen Expert tips provider. Good investment advice is crucial when you are looking for different places to put your money into. A smart investment is something that could really put a lot of money into your pocket down the road. Remember to be patient, keep studying investment advice, and use it to make wise financial decisions.

#Chase Ergen #Chase Ergen Professional tips provider.#Chase Ergen Qualified tips provider.#Chase Ergen Expert tips provider.#Chase Ergen Most excellent service provider.#Chase Ergen Proficient tips provider.#Chase Ergen Top service provider.

1 note · View note

roguedeck · 1 year

Text

Solo Marvel Champions is My New Main

I knew I had to jump into Marvel Champions from the beginning.

My all-time favorite game, Android: Netrunner, had just died an ignoble death. So my budget had a bit of an opening for a new LCG. I knew X-Men were coming eventually, and if I didn't jump in at the beginning, I'd need to go back and bulk buy eventually.

So I was one of the first in line for the original core set. And I mostly kept up with the hero packs. My normal game group even played a decent amount of it. It was even fine to play solo. I tended to go two-handed (playing two characters) because it gave me access to more cards, and covered some of the weaknesses a single hero would have.

And the game was... fine? Better than average definitely. Possibly a little too long. A little fiddly. And sometimes hard to keep track of all the rules exceptions. And like a lot of co-op games, you sort of knew the outcome way before the game ended.

I really liked how each hero deck really made you feel like playing that specific hero. But with all the little fiddliness of the game, it never really took over as the main game in our group.

And then Magic's 2022 happened.

2022 was supposed to be the best Magic year ever. We had a killer cyberpunk set coming out. Another Commander Legends set. Revisiting one of my favorite sets (Dominaria) and getting the Phyrexians back in a big way.

I was expecting to go broke on all this amazing content. But then something weird happened. I stopped getting excited about Magic.

I think product fatigue had something to do with it. But so did the abject money grubbing from Wizards. Neon Dynasty was a great set, but I didn't love raising prices on Commander decks. I lived Baldur's Gate more than most, but I didn't even acknowledge that Double Masters released. None of the main sets actually excited me like I expected. And then the 30th Anniversary packs happened.

2022 started as the most excited I'd been about Magic in a long time, and ended up with me barely registering new releases. For the foreseeable future I'm just going to buy a card or two that fit into existing commander decks.

In Walks True Solo Marvel Champions

Into this vacuum came Marvel Champions. X-Men finally hits the shelves with a new box featuring my favorite character (Shadowcat). The encounters are interesting and thematic. I even get a Mojo pack.

I definitely wanted to play some more Champions - but tracking all the nuances of Mojo was mentally taxing for two-handed solo. I had always been a little hesitant to play true-solo (one-handed, one character), but I thought I'd give it a try.

And oh boy is it the absolute best.

I'll still play multi-player Champions (2 or 3 players please), but I've been playing a ton of solo Champions recently. For a game where the designers explicitly state they don't test as a solo game, it's amazing how much gets fixed when you go solo:

There is no downtime between turns. You are always active.

The villain phase doesn't take too long either.

There is still a lot going on, but the amount of abilities and actions onboard never getting too overwhelming like they do with multiple players and encounter cards.

Games are FAST. Solo Champions does not overstay it's welcome.

Games are swingy. Because of the lower thresholds on the main scheme, you can go from in control to absolutely devastated in a single villain phase.

That last point might be a negative for some people, but I think it makes the game significantly better. No more are you simply going through the motions in the final three rounds. You never know what will happen.

Playing true solo has taken this from a game I like, but struggle to get to the table, to a game a love and can't wait to set up immediately after I get smashed by Ultron for the billionth time.

Currently Playing:

Storm Protection - It's Raining Multiple Men Captain America Aggression - Overkill Anonymous Miles Morales Justice - Confuse and Kill Spider-Woman Leadership/Justice - SHIELD Sneak Attack

Regular Villains:

Ultron with Under Attack Mutagen Formula with Sinister Syndicate

#marvel champions card game #marvel #lcg #solo gaming

0 notes

no-droids · 3 years

Text

Whenever You Want

Part Fourteen of the Rough Day Series

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 11.2K

Warnings: Listen there is some dirty smut in this one yall okay like I was blushing when I wrote it, it has a very stark beginning and theres a pagebreak afterwards if you would prefer to skip over it. Smut includes oral sex (female receiving) rough sex, sensory deprivation, butt stuff (ass to mouth, anal fingering/penetration) so PLEASE LOOK OUT FOR IT PLEASE. Also there is jealous/possessive mando in this, season 1 Karga makes another appearance, and some angst/fluff towards the end

A/N: Nothing much today yoditos just love you all

***

Din said he’d meet you here.

You’re currently sitting across from Greef Karga in a cantina on Nevarro, a closed shield next to you and a blaster tucked into the back of your waistband, hidden underneath your shirt. You’re barely even looking at him, though—your eyes are attached to the door by an invisible string, forcing your gaze back to it no matter how much it bounces around the room.

You don’t know where Din is, you haven’t seen him in hours. But you do know that when he left, he was moving slower than you’re used to. You don’t think anyone else would notice, but you sure did. Not that he was obvious about it—you only picked up on very subtle hints. Leaning up against things just a bit more than he usually does. Taking slightly longer exiting the ramp of the Crest than his normal strides would carry him.

He didn’t say what he was going to do—just that he needed to find someone before meeting with Karga, and you accepted it. But truthfully, you didn’t want to. You were worried about him—still are, actually. But for all intents and purposes, he was speaking and acting like himself, showing no real signs of exhaustion other than the smallest instances you described before, so you didn’t really have a leg to stand on. He’s been through way worse, and you know it. You just… find yourself worrying about him so much more than you used to, and you need to learn how to gain some control over that part of you.

The kid was still passed out from healing him and you remember Din carefully setting four pucks down in the sleeping baby’s sphere and giving his ears a gentle rub between leather fingers. He turned back to you and told you to meet him at the cantina in three hours, but if it ended up taking him too long for any reason, to try your best to see if Karga will let you exchange on his behalf.

Admittedly, he didn’t sound too confident about it—the instructions were delivered with a tone that implied a doubtful, just-in-case scenario he wasn’t foreseeing happening. Or maybe he just doubted the likelihood of Karga agreeing to do business with you, you’re not entirely sure. All you know is that when he left, you were almost certain he wouldn’t be late, but you also took the time to grab the smallest blaster from his armory before heading out just in case.

Yet—here you are, three and a half hours later, eyes flicking between the door and Karga as you attempt to keep up polite conversation. After turning down his offer of alcohol for the fifth time and still not seeing any glimpse of beskar coming to your rescue, you figure this may be as good a time as any to start the exchange.

During an extended break in the small talk, you slowly reach over to the corner of your booth and press a button on the face of the kid’s shield. It hisses open and you completely miss the way Karga’s hand raises while three of his guards automatically reach for their hips. The little green monster is still snoozing comfortably while you pull out the four glowing pucks Din left you and set them on the table one by one.

They scrape along the top of it as you slowly push them over to him, before sitting back in the booth and clearing your throat, flicking your eyes between Karga and his guards. To you, nobody appears to have moved, so you muster a polite smile at him.

Karga smiles back, but makes no move to gather or inspect the offerings in front of him.

“Um…” you say after a moment, suddenly feeling your heart start to beat a little faster. “Mando… Mando gave me permission to exchange on his behalf.”

“I believe you,” he drawls out in response, but the pucks still sit untouched in front of him as he leans back in the booth and studies you. “Mando has always had a… let’s say, a frustrating penchant for disregarding the pillars of our code. My apologies, young lady, but I’m afraid that I cannot accept these from you.”

Your voice comes out quieter than you’d like it to sound. “Why not?”

“It is… unlawful,” he answers after a moment. “Our organization operates under strict rules.”

Does it? You blink. No, it doesn’t. You’re nothing to the Guild and you’ve sat next to Din quite a few times while Karga talked, listening to him drunkenly boast about return rates and out members by name. You’re not sure why he’s barring you like this, but you’re also not self-assured enough to put practically any spine into it whatsoever. “I’m… afraid I don’t understand.”

“I cannot legally do guild business with individuals not recognized as members in an official capacity,” he sighs, sounding grave and almost apologetic about it, but you don’t know him well enough to know if he’s a good actor or not. “There’s nothing I can do for you besides provide you with my company, not until Mando decides to show.”

Well now that doesn’t make any sense, and you’re starting to worry that for some reason or another, he isn’t going to show. Though it was incredibly well concealed, you’re well aware that Din was still lingering in the final recovery stages when he left the Crest earlier and all you have to go on is his word that he’d be here. Something could’ve happened. Something could be happening right now, you need to push.

“People pick up bounties for extra credits all the time,” you mumble, still way too fucking quiet about it. Maker, you’re not even sure if he could hear that over the sound of the cantina. Speak up, speak up.

“Yes, but those quarry are listed on the New Republic’s most wanted database,” Karga acknowledges diplomatically, educating more than he is arguing, before uncorking the bottle of glowing blue alcohol in front of him and beginning to pour himself another shot. “They’re fodder. Up for grabs—names, last known locations, and biometrics published for the entire galaxy to read.” He tilts his head down at the four metal pucks on the table without removing his gaze from the gradually filling glass. “Those pucks are different, they’re commissions. Tied specifically to Guild contracts.” Karga clunks the bottle back down again and corks it, pinning you with a stare. “For all I know, you could’ve murdered a member of our ranks and come to collect payment for his bounties. Can’t have that.”

Your blood suddenly turns to ice at the implication, eyes wide and your heartbeat rocketing as you look from Karga to the three guards casually stationed behind him. “You—You think I murdered Mando?”

“No,” he says, easily and in the very same breath, before throwing the shot back and wiping his mouth with a grimace. “Not sure I’d care too much if you did. It’s not my rule, but I am required to follow it or risk losing my position in the Guild.”

Shit. Shit. What do you do?

You’re blank, left quiet and feeling increasingly unsure of how to proceed. Karga, however, seems completely unbothered and even appears to be enjoying himself and your company. He gives you another smile, this one a lot friendlier and more genuine than the one earlier, before setting his elbows on the table and leaning forward.

“Look, I want to help you,” he admits, keeping his tone light, “but my hands are tied. Just relax and share a drink with me until he gets here, it’s not a problem.”

Fuck, you don’t like this, and a quick look around brings another reminder of Din’s continued absence. Your chest feels tight, the anxiety starting to compound and make you jumpy. It’s been too long—it’s been at least forty minutes or so of waiting by now and something just feels wrong about this. Not having him next to you feels wrong enough on its own, but when he specifically told you he’d be here?

You clench your jaw and try to work up your nerve. Karga is a nice guy, right? He knows you by name, he knows who you are to Mando. And while you never really thought about the bounty hunter’s omnipresent protection as being anything other than metaphorical, you suddenly realize that… it might be literal, too. How much sway do you actually have here, you wonder? You’re not stupid, you’re not going to try anything stupid, but maybe just another question won’t hurt?

“Well, um… how do you become a member, then?” You ask him, and you watch as he leans back in the booth, raising both eyebrows at you.

“Excuse me?” He asks, though there’s a genuine amusement in his voice. Stunned that you’d even say the words aloud.

“I have four bodies,” you tell him shortly. You’re still quiet about it, but his thoroughly entertained astonishment is beginning to rub you the wrong way. You don’t want to be part of the Guild, you don’t want to be here, you’re doing this out of growing necessity. “One of which I dragged through a blizzard on Hoth by its ankles and put into carbonite myself, so please just tell me what I have to do to get you to take them.”

“I can’t,” he repeats, shaking his head like you’re just not getting it. “New members are only accepted if they bring in an S-level criminal from the database or if they complete a commission that was granted to them by someone of my station—neither of which apply to you. If you cannot present me with any sort of reasonable argument for which they could, then I’m afraid this is not a favor I can swing.”

“I was sitting right here,” you return, suddenly finding your voice. If Karga wants an argument from you to get this to happen, then you’ll do it. You just need to finish this exchange, go back to the Crest, and scan around for Din’s signal. “When you first gave the pucks to Mando, I sat right here and you pushed them over to this side of the table—I was present for the commission and now I’m here to complete it.”

He shakes his head. “But I didn’t give them to you, I gave them to Mando—”

“Yes, but you only wanted to give him three,” you immediately point out. “The last one, the one I told you I put into carbonite—you said you threw it in because you liked me, it could’ve been for me.”

Karga suddenly stops and blinks at you for a few seconds, and you bite your lip, wondering if the logic will hold. It’s flimsy as fuck and you know he could very easily rip it apart if he wanted to. It could’ve been for you but it wasn’t, he gave it to Mando. You also purposefully leave out the fact that you’re also the reason Mando only gave him three bodies in the first place; your only goal here is to complete this transaction as quickly as possible and leave. You don’t like the fact that it’s taking Din so long, and you also don’t like the fact that Karga seems so keen on keeping you here with him, no matter how many reassurances he provides. He said he wants to help you? This can be his chance to prove it.

After a few extended moments of consideration, Karga finally shrugs like he really couldn’t care less before reaching across the table for the pucks and beginning to stack them in his palm.

“What is your last name?” He asks, turning behind him to gesture for one of his men with a jerk of his head. The bodyguard exits the cantina without another word and your eyes flick back to Karga’s.

“Why does it matter?” You ask uncertainly, watching another guard approach with a holopad as he shrugs once more.

“It doesn’t, but we need something for our records,” Karga explains, grabbing the device as it’s tapped against his shoulder without removing his gaze from yours. “I can just use Doe if you don’t feel like sharing—most of our members tend to prefer anonymity, including your companion.”

Your eyebrows furrow even as your heart continues to pound, wondering how they can afford to be so lax about some things but take others so seriously. “You have him down as John Doe?”

“First name Man,” Karga grunts in response, finally breaking eye contact to begin navigating through pages on the holopad.

“Ah,” you say shortly, knowing you’d probably find the joke funny in other circumstances. You’re not out of the trenches yet, you still feel the worry tugging hard at your chest.

“Very well,” Karga announces with a sigh, pocketing the pucks in his leather overcoat and then handing the holopad back to one of the men flanking him after a moment. “Someone is collecting the carbonite plaques from your vessel as we speak.”

You give him a nod, taking a deep breath that you hope is slow and subtle enough to not give your anxiety away. He helped you out, you’re halfway through this. Now comes the exchange. Now it’s his turn to give you the credits and four more pucks, that’s how this should go.

Only, Karga leans back in his seat and cocks his head at you. “Unfortunately, I believe we have found ourselves in the midst of yet another predicament.”

Your heart continues to slam, praying you haven’t somehow majorly fucked things up by getting this far. Din still isn’t here, why is he so fucking late? He nearly froze to death and you handled a dead body just to make this meeting on time, where the fuck is he?

You raise an eyebrow at him, willing the building panic not to show on your face. “Have we?”

“You’re lucky credits are attached to commissions instead of rank within the Guild,” he prefaces, pulling out a large handful of them to begin counting, and your eyes flick around the cantina while you know he isn’t looking, “or else you’d be getting about half of what I’d normally give him.”

Heart galloping when you still don’t see any sign of him, you just decide to keep extra quiet as you watch Karga divvy out a sizable stack of credits, hoping your prolonged silence will protect you somehow.

“The question now becomes…” he lifts an eyebrow at you while sliding them across the table to you, “how many pucks do I give you in return, hm?”

Fuck, you don’t like this, you’re trying to make it crystal fucking clear that your intentions do not extend beyond the perimeter of this table. There’s no you to be found in this deal, you’re just an emergency proxy in Din’s absence and you only inserted yourself in the situation to accomplish that task. “I told you I’m only here to exchange on Mando’s behalf, that’s it.”

“Be that as it may…” Karga glances around the cantina like he’s thinking extra hard about it. This is a made-up problem, you both know there’s no predicament here. He knows you didn’t kill Mando, he knows there’s no real reason to be giving you such a hard time about this, and you clench your jaw as he still seems to take his time considering it. “Tell you what, young lady,” he finally turns back to you. “Do me the honor of sharing one sip of this fine spotchka with me and I’ll give you four pucks to pass along to Mando.”

Okay. Okay, you can do that, if he really cares that much. Karga gestures for the closest droid to come by with a glass for you, but you just grab the bottle in front of him and uncork it without thinking too much, balancing the glowing blue liquid with two hands and diligently taking a small sip of it before setting it down again. Appearing satisfied with your demonstration of upholding your end of the bargain, Karga grins and reaches into another pocket.

“Four for Mando,” he pushes four pucks across the table, “same rate and return as last time, as promised.” You nearly deflate in relief as you quickly gather them up and begin dropping them into the snoozing baby’s shield along with the credits, but then Karga reaches back and pulls out another puck, pushing it over to you. “And one for you.”

You blink at him, frozen in place.

“Lowest level, lowest pay. Not even a criminal by New Republic standards, just a missing person,” he goes on to say, but then quite suddenly…

Quite suddenly you’re absolutely fucking horrified.

You don’t want it. Everything inside you surges up to scream that you do not want that puck. It’s a waste of time, even if it’s an extra job—it’s too much trouble, too much fuel for such a small reward. You already know good and well that Din won’t want to bother, getting this extra puck would be considered a detriment to him.

“What if I don’t want it?” You ask, sounding nervous and vaguely out of breath as you look down at it.

Karga scoffs. “Of course you don’t. Nobody wants these, why do you think I’m trying so hard to pawn one off on you?”

Shit. This is not at all how you expected any of this would go. You know he’s not really asking, even if his tone and continued courtesy implies it’s only a request. There’s an expectation attached to this, and it appears you take too long pondering an offer that isn’t actually voluntary. Karga stares at you and your clear apprehension for just a few seconds more, before finally giving you an ultimatum. “You said you’re here on his behalf. You either take all five pucks now or Mando only gets three next time, your choice.”

Oh. Oh, no. This is a lose-lose; three pucks means more fuel and less credits, five pucks means more fuel and less credits. It’s not like you have any real bargaining power here—almost everything he’s done for you today has been a favor of some sort and you’re well aware that things can always get worse.

Still, you take a deep breath and try your best to throw around whatever weight you have left in one final agreement.

“Give me your word you’ll go back to giving him four from now on, no more hassling or hard time constraints and we’ll take it just this once,” you tell him, trying to conjure and put power behind your words even though you’re unsure if they’ll stick.

“Deal,” Karga readily agrees with a smile, reaching his hand across the table. You have no choice but to meet him in the middle and clasp it, unable to feel anywhere close to good about your performance here. It was clunky and insecure and even though you just barely succeeded in making the exchange overall, you’re massively disappointed in the specifics.

But then Karga’s eyes quickly flick over your shoulder.

“Ah, Mando!” He suddenly calls out, and your hand nearly snatches away from his while your body goes rigid.

Oh, this isn’t good, this is not good. Well, it’s good that he’s here but it also really fucking isn’t. You don’t even turn your head; you sit completely straight and still while the cantina falls to a hush and heavy footsteps begin to approach behind you. You fucked up—you fucked up, you didn’t wait long enough and you feel the sharp regret instantly twist in your stomach. He said he’d be here, why didn’t you trust him? Your anxiety and stress compounded and spurned you to act too quickly, you made the deal a few fucking seconds before he showed up.

And, as Din eventually comes into your peripheral, taking his time leaning his rifle up against the table, you immediately realize that you should not have worried. Recovery isn’t even a word in his vocabulary right now—he’s more intimidating than he’s ever been, more powerful and certain and dangerous while he lowers himself into the seat next to you than he’s ever felt to you before. Everything is so quiet now that he’s here; you feel like even just swallowing against the sudden dryness in your throat turns into an audible gulp. The man sitting across from you may own this cantina and every material good under its roof, but the one sitting by your side feels like he steals the literal air from the room just by walking inside it.

Yet, in spite of the daunting presence of the Mandalorian, Karga beams and tips his glass at him. “I believe you’ve arrived just in time for your favorite part of the conversation, friend. The farewells.”

You stare wide-eyed down at the table as Din leans back into the booth and very slowly extends his arm behind your shoulders, saying nothing at all to him.

The testosterone is radiating from him to the point of near suffocation, you can taste the alpha in the air. Your heart slams in your chest at the unspoken claim he just made with a subtle movement, and though you’ve never been one for masculine displays, this one weirdly feels… good right now. You know it’s primitive and crude and you’re not a piece of meat to be fought over, but it doesn’t feel like that at all. It’s the immediate feeling of security that serves to heat your cheeks, the fact that you’ve been a nervous mess trying to be extra brave this whole interaction and then suddenly you have the backup of an entire army contained within one single suit of armor next to you.

If you weren’t internally panicking at how badly you screwed this shit up, you’d probably be going fucking feral for him right now.

Karga says your name and your gaze snaps to his, feeling like you can’t breathe. “My associate has collected the plaques, nothing keeps you here any longer. It was a pleasure doing business with you.”

Still, nobody at the table moves.

After a moment, you carefully glance up and to the side at the sharp, metallic profile of his helmet. Maker, you can’t explain it—it’s like you feel terrified but not really for yourself, if that makes sense. You’re upset with yourself for not having enough trust in his word, absolutely, but something in Din’s demeanor tells you that he’s going to be considerably less understanding of how Karga handled this situation than the way you did.

The helmet slowly turns down to look at you, and you bite your lip while carefully placing your hand on his thigh brace under the table, letting him feel your fingers brush against the bend of his knee.

He turns back to Karga after a few seconds, still not saying a single word, until eventually Din’s arm is lifted from behind your shoulders and you feel his leather fingers gently clasp your hand, before he starts to rise from the booth and pull you along next to him. You both stand, and he silently presses a button on his vambrace without dropping your grip, urging the kid’s shield to follow along behind him.

“Um, goodbye,” you just barely remember to tell Karga as Din begins leading you away, apparently not waiting for the polite farewells he arrived in time for.

“Wait!” A voice calls out just before you can make your exit, and Din pauses just in time for Karga to extend that damned fifth puck out for you to grab. Right in fucking front of him. “Can’t forget this!”

Fuck. Great. Thanks.

Blood rushes to your face while you go to reach for it, taking the puck and then placing it in the open shield along with four others in a way that you hope is casual but you know isn’t. You close the lid on it and then squeeze Din’s hand slightly, but he stays rooted to the spot for a few more seconds, having watched the entire exchange play out. Though you obviously wouldn’t be able to read his facial expressions even if you could lift your head to look up at him, you can’t will yourself to do so right now. You’re too disappointed in yourself and nervous—you just stand there silently as he looks back at Karga, staring at your feet and praying he doesn’t do anything brash.

After too many moments of uncertainty, you squeeze his hand again and slowly begin to pull on it. Without needing much pressure at all, he goes where you go, and you end up being the one to lead Din out of the cantina by the hand still tangled with yours.

***

The walk back to the Crest lasts an eternity.

Neither one of you say anything at all to each other the entire way there, and you know he’s not mad at you yet, but you’re worried. You feel incredibly self-critical right now and it’s really not helping that he seems even quieter and more wound up than usual. You don’t know if it’s because he already figured out that you just handed him extra work or if it’s because whatever made him late to the cantina also altered his mood, hit a reset button and reminded him of the way he used to be, the armor he’s wearing. Was there a confrontation, you wonder? Is he okay? He seems like he’s… extra Mandalorian right now, there’s not really a better way to describe it.

He doesn’t drop your hand, though. As you pass through the markets and shanty huts lining the streets, Din holds onto you. Shoulders tense and strides heavy, but his fingers stay tangled in yours.

Regardless, you keep your mouth shut and eventually the Crest comes into view. The ramp drops to the ground and the three of you make your way up, and you have enough foresight to carefully drop Din’s hand and lead the baby’s shield over to the unused cot built into the hull walls, closing him in a safe quiet place to sleep and continue building up his strength again.

You turn around to see Din press another button on his vambrace. He stays with his back to you as the ramp slowly closes, but as soon as it latches up against the hull and locks into place, he nearly whips around and suddenly he’s right in front of you, gloves cupping your face.

“What happened?” He asks sharply, the helmet looking you up and down. “Are you alright? Why did you look so scared?”

You reach up to rest your hands on his, blinking up at him and not knowing what to say. How are you going to tell him? He’s gotta waste extra fuel and time on a bullshit quarry because of you, what are you going to say? You don’t even know if it’s last known location is nearby; he might have to fly to some remote, desolate corner of the galaxy just for a handful of credits because you couldn’t wait a fucking hour for him.

“I, uh… I-I’m sorry, I just…” But it’s nearly impossible to form a coherent thought when he’s this close to you and sounding fucking sincere, genuinely concerned about you while you’re stuck worrying about how to break the bad news to him. “Oh, stars, um…”

“Did Karga fuck with you?” He asks in that same sharp tone when you don’t finish your thought, but you’re so absorbed in your own conflict that you barely even hear him. “Because I can go back right now, the cantina is just—”

“Okay wait, please—” You suddenly speak up, “before I tell you, just… please keep in mind that I did save your life two days ago, so…”

“Sweet girl,” Din rumbles slowly, a subtle warning for you to hurry up and spit it out. His fingers tighten just slightly on your cheeks, still so gentle but needing you to communicate with him right now.

Tell him, you just need to tell him. If he gets mad, then he gets mad, but at least he’ll know at that point and you won’t just be springing it on him out of nowhere.

“I fucked up,” you breathe out, eyebrows pulling up in the middle as you tighten your own grip on his hands. “I’m so sorry, I fucked up and you were late and I got nervous and I didn’t wait long enough and I tried to make the exchange like you asked me to but then I had to take a fifth puck and I didn’t want to but Karga threatened to short change you next time around unless I agreed to take an extra one for the lowest pay just this once and I didn’t have any bargaining power and you showed up right after I agreed to the deal and I’m so so sorry—”

You cut yourself off with your own ragged gasp, not having paused once to breathe throughout the entire thing while your expression twisted up with regret more and more the longer he allowed you to speak.

Din stands there in front of you and doesn’t move, hands still attached to your face.

“Okay,” he eventually tells you. Stunted words, like he’s trying extra hard to find them when yours just fell out of your mouth in a complete mess. “It’s okay. You did… good.”

The silence is tense and you’re becoming more and more anxious the longer he takes to speak. He’s lying for your benefit, he must be. When he drops his hands from your face and takes a full step back, you take the gesture as symbolic and nearly launch into panic.

“Maker, I’m so sorry I didn’t wait for—” You start to say, but Din cuts you off.

“Did he make you…” His back suddenly goes a little straighter, voice finding a quiet edge through the modulator as his fingers subtly twitch at his sides, “…Uncomfortable?”

You pull back at the sudden change in subject and furrow your eyebrows.

“Who, Karga?” You have to think about it. Did he make you uncomfortable, or were you just uncomfortable already? You might’ve just been scared because you were making it scarier than it really was, you can admit that’s a valid possibility. “Um… no? I don’t know, not… not really, I don’t think.”

“No?” He asks, taking a small step forward. “You don’t know? Or not really… you don’t think?”

You know you can only see the blade of his visor, but something makes you feel like you’re looking right in his eyes. You even go back and forth between where you’re pretty confident each one is, trying to read his intentions right now. It’s like he’s purposefully trying to keep space between you even though he looks like he wants to move closer, fisting his hands at his sides when he looks like he wants to touch you.

“No, he just… lowballed me towards the end of it and I got intimidated, but I’m also not…” Your expression narrows in concentration while you try to find the words to explain yourself, wanting to be as honest as possible with him. “I don’t know, I’m not like you. I’m not that strong, but I’m trying to get better. I think he was probably just being normal. He did offer me alcohol a bunch, but I’m pretty sure he also did that last time, so—”

“And I didn’t like it the last time he did it,” Din says quietly, taking another small step forward.

You blink up at him, completely dumb. This is what’s bothering him? Is he really not upset with you at all for giving him more work? It’s like the major fuckup on your behalf just went in one side of the helmet and out the other, he barely even acknowledged it other than the role Karga played. He said it’s okay and you did good, which are like… five of the most common words in Galactic Basic, a Wookiee could probably find a way to say them. How are you supposed to take that? Were you just overthinking this whole thing from the very beginning? You know anxiety tends to be irrational by definition, but has none of your panic from the past hour been justified whatsoever?

“Why were you so late?” You ask him, but it’s not accusatory in the slightest. It’s… concerned, worried about his well-being without having a real reason. He’s clearly more than fine right now, he’s like a hurricane enclosed in metal and holding still in front of you. Too much potential energy just waiting for a reason to be released, too much tension held tight and ready to snap.

“I’m sorry.” He quickly reaches out to grab your hand and squeeze it, before dropping it just as quickly. Fucking lightning quick, you’ll never understand how he can be so damn quick with all that extra weight strapped to him. “It took longer than I thought it would and she’s not really someone you can rush.” His response, ironically, feels very rushed, like he’s trying to address the tangent but also keep things on track, but something in the answer he gives catches your direct attention. “Did he flirt with you?”

“Who is she and what can’t be rushed?” You blurt at the same time, not even taking a split second to think about it.

Din stops short at the blunt question, staring at you in a silence that feels like it’s vaguely taken aback.

After a few moments of that… strangeness, of the two of you realizing that you’re both feeling slightly possessive over each other for absolutely no reason whatsoever, you start to feel… warm. In another weirdly stupid, primitive way. You know that letting those kinds of thoughts have their day in a relationship isn’t a good thing, but you can’t explain it. Some deep-seated, prehistoric instinct inside you just goes fucking nuts whenever he gets in either provider or protector mode. Now you understand exactly why he wanted to get you alone after you admitted to being jealous once before. You totally fucking get it, you’re right there with him right now. He hasn’t said anything, but you think he feels it, too.

“She makes things,” Din finally answers you, careful with his words and somehow managing to address your question while also sidestepping it, leaving you with only the smallest bit of information to go off of. “Did he flirt with you?”

“I don’t know,” you tell him honestly. “Maybe. He could’ve just been trying to be friendly. What did she make for you?”

“She made it for you,” he responds, again not really answering the question but continuing to juggle two separate conversations for your benefit. “Did he scare you?”

“For me?” You ask, eyebrows shooting upwards. Provider, that stupid cavewoman DNA whispers to your lower body, making your voice go a little breathless. “You asked her to make something for me?”

“Did he scare you?” Din repeats sternly, grabbing your hand and giving it a firm squeeze. “Because I can go back, I swear—”

Protector, it whispers this time, and your knees nearly buckle.

“Everything is scary when I don’t know where you are,” you admit to him, knowing it’s the truth regardless of how self-deprecating it sounds. The only times you’ve ever truly been brave was because of him or the kid. Stabbing a Corellian and then immediately flying the Crest out to him afterwards, walking through a pitch black forest believing a dangerous criminal was hiding in it, dragging a dead body through snow and shoving it into carbonite, standing up for yourself and pushing a deal through when odds were stacked against you. Though it’s nothing to him, it’s nothing, it’s leaps for you. You’re slowly learning to find a backbone, and he’s the one inspiring it.

Din holds there for a moment, unmoving with his hand still clutching yours. You can’t get a read on him but you know how you feel right now. Achy. Hot. Needy. Wanting him to come closer.

“Will you do something for me?” He asks you after a prolonged silence. His voice is quiet, but… incredibly restrained. Controlled chaos—his body is rigid and he’s flexing muscles that aren’t necessary for just standing, feeling like a sprinter holding still on the starting blocks.

“Of course,” you breathe out.

Din lets go of your hand and tilts his helmet over at the corner of the hull behind you. “Go turn around and face that wall.”

You freeze, immediately recognizing the undertone in his voice. Heat ladles deep into the pit of your tummy, sends warmth pooling downwards. He wants to do this here? Right now?

“We’re—” you look around the enclosed hull, “Mando, we’re not in hyperspace, we haven’t even left the surface yet…”

He looks around too, taking a second to blankly take in his stagnant surroundings like he had absolutely fucking no idea, before turning back to you and not saying a word. Maker, everything below your waist is already stirring, twisting hot and deep inside, but you’re trying to be the voice of reason for a second.

“What if somebody hears us?” You whisper, and Din cocks his head to the other side.

“I can help you stay quiet,” he murmurs, and… fuck. You don’t know what it means, but you immediately imagine his hand held tight over your mouth while he takes some of this stress out on you and you already feel yourself wilting at the thought. Okay.

“Okay,” you breathe without needing anything else at all, before spinning around and standing exactly where he told you to. It’s just a corner near the back of the hull, nothing else here to look at besides two metal panels meeting at a right angle, but that’s admittedly what makes your heart start beating quicker. You can’t see him come up behind you but you can feel it. Slow, measured, but so restrained.

But then he stops almost immediately, before the back of your shirt is suddenly being yanked upwards and you remember at the very last second.

Din carefully grips his blaster and then eases it out of your waistband, the metal sliding warm along your skin from pressing against it for so long. You never told him you took it with you, and he’s so fucking quiet behind you. You have no idea how he’s reacting to that piece of information you originally didn’t think twice about.

“Do you like carrying my gun around?” Din’s voice murmurs soft through the modulator to you, but then the blaster is tossed uselessly to the side, skittering loudly across the floor of the hull.

“Yes,” you reply, beginning to shyly turn your head back to look at him, hoping to gauge his response.

“Don’t turn around,” he quickly interrupts you, pushing your shoulder back into position and keeping you facing the corner. You blink at the metal walls in a bit of a daze but follow instructions regardless, feeling your heart pound at the sudden display of dominance from him. He has a very valid reason for it and you don’t realize what it is until a few seconds later, but even if he didn’t and he was just telling you what to do for the fun of it… you’d still like it.

But then his helmet is carefully being lowered over your head and you shudder as your vision is replaced with a familiar black abyss. Fuck, his helmet, why does he like it so much when you wear this? Admittedly, you don’t have much time to contemplate—as soon as it’s fitted and secure, he spins you around and you have to just do your best to maintain your balance, not having any visual to help.

“Can you hear me?” Din asks, and your clothes start to be ripped off of you. Your shoulders tip sideways with how quick he is about it, feeling him pull the fabric off and hearing the soft sound it makes landing on the floor.

“Yes,” you tell him, but he doesn’t respond, continuing to strip you completely naked in the hull. Once your upper body is bare and he’s yanking your pants and underwear down your legs, you try saying it again as you step out of them, louder for him this time.

“I can’t hear you,” his voice grunts after a moment. You know he’s in front of you but you can’t really tell where, now that he’s not touching you. “Scream.”

You take a second, not having hard evidence anymore but still very well aware that you’re parked close to a marketplace on Nevarro and multiple people are nearby while you’re wearing his helmet. This is dangerous for him, and not sure if you should, but then an arm is wrapping around your back and a large leather palm rests directly over your chest. Din repeats his last word very slowly and clearly for you, waiting to feel it under his hands.

Your sternum lifts while it rises with your deep breath and then collapses as you diligently yell as loud as you can into the helmet, feeling like you might deafen yourself with the trapped sound.

“Good,” he growls, suddenly spinning you around and pushing you back into the metal paneling. “I can’t hear you, be as loud as you need. Hit me or something, put up a fight if you want me to stop, alright?”

Arousal rockets through you and you let out a moan already, taking advantage of the noise suppression and beyond turned on at this point. You feel like you’re buzzing with it, lit up with excitement and wondering with bated breath what he’s planning to do to you.

“Alright?” Comes his voice from behind you once more, and you quickly jerk the heavy helmet in a nod for him. You can put up a fight and you know he’ll stop, you don’t have any problem with that and the fact that he specifically made sure to wait until he knew you understood him makes you start to pant inside the hollow beskar.

But then you feel him flick a small switch at the base of the helmet and then everything abruptly cuts out and goes dead silent.

Nothing. Nothing. You’re standing in a pitch black room where no other sound exists besides your own labored breathing. Just like the waterfall on Naboo, but you can’t speak this time. Temporarily making you blind, deaf, and putting a proverbial gag over your mouth all with one powerful piece of armor.

You shudder and he kicks your legs apart before you can do much else, yanking your hips back while you just try your best to cling to the wall for stability. You don’t know what he’s going to do, you’re completely isolated in here and the only way you can even tell he dropped to his knees is the hot glide of his tongue through your pussy from behind.

Oh fuck—you arch into position as best you can while hands wrap around your ankles to pull them apart, trying to make the angle better. His tongue licks softly over your clit and each time is like an electric shock jolting through your body, making you twitch back and up for him, stretching and begging him to do it again. You can’t see anything right now so your mind readily imagines the visuals instead, providing you with a third party view. Din, fully clothed and face shielded by your thighs, eating you out from behind while you brace yourself against the wall, completely naked and at his mercy, head tilted down from the weight of his helmet and living for the moments he decides to drag his tongue across your clit.

Without warning, a sudden burst of sensation ripples along your backside and causes you to lift the beskar in surprise, but without being able to hear anything, it takes you a second to figure out that he just smacked your ass. The realization comes more or less at the exact time he decides to flatten his tongue and follow the curve of you back and up.

You gasp into the pitch black and there’s a moment where you just hold utterly still for him, experiencing and processing the sensation for the very first time. His mouth is soft and warm as he tastes you here, his fingers digging into the swell of your cheeks to spread you open. You’re glad your face is hidden so he can’t see the shock in your expression, the way your mouth drops and your eyes close as you let him explore you this way.

His gloved hands leave you for just a moment while he continues gliding his tongue against you, along every single bit of skin he can reach, and then you feel a bare hand reach up between your legs and begin to rub slow circles around your clit. His other arm pushes against your lower back and you’re forced into the corner even more, your naked breasts pressing hard against cool metal and feeling his hot mouth and strong fingers work you closer to the edge from behind.

You’re panting into the helmet, your hips arching back to feel that stimulation on your clit better, and as his fingers move over it slow and strong, you feel a soft vibration against your skin and you realize he’s moaning into you. The knowledge sparks a different kind of heat through you and makes you suddenly go still and tense right here. If he stays just like this for even just a few more seconds, you’re going to cum.

“Din, I’m gonna cum,” your voice warbles inside the enclosed steel—just as his touch decides to abandon your body. You groan loudly in distress, completely alone without his hands or mouth on you anymore, but all he likely hears is the silence of the hull and the way your palm smacks against the wall with it. You were so close, everything feels like it’s pulled up so tight and painful and it hurts—

A hand clutches your hip and then a thick cock is suddenly pushing up against your soaking wet entrance, going to alleviate that twisting discomfort. Your eyes roll back and your whole body goes limp as he slowly eases forward and breaks you open, fitting himself deep inside where you love to feel him most. Your hands claw down the walls with a swell of bliss as he pulls out and then starts thrusting—and fuck, you love this. You love the way he’s trapping you up against the corner and making you see stars at the same time, the way he’s supporting your weight but crushing down into you, too. It makes you go boneless and want to riot simultaneously, groaning loud into the quiet abyss as he gives you what you both desperately needed.

One of his hands sinks down between your legs to play with your clit again, while a slick finger presses up against your ass and you gasp as he slowly penetrates you there, too. Din’s hips work steady and powerful behind you, pushing you into the wall with every desperate thrust, using the arm shoved between your legs to support you as well as stimulate, and you just feel yourself move into a different place. You don’t have a name for it but it feels like hyperspace. Silence so loud it feels suppressing, faster than anything light can touch, nowhere and everywhere, hurtling towards something you can’t see but know lies in the distance. You can tell he’s still fucking the tension out of his body, you can feel him working another wet finger inside you and stretching the virgin muscles back there, but every sensation begins to slowly blur together in a wicked uprising of ecstasy.

You don’t know where you are anymore, just that his fingers keep rubbing your clit and you think he's trying to ease a third into you when your destination abruptly arrives.

You nearly collapse when you cum, contracting so hard around his cock and fingers that you cry out unexpectedly—and because of the helmet, you think it’s just as unexpected for him. He stops moving—everything stops moving besides you. Your hips stutter backwards into his stationary body, dragging your clit back and forth against the tips of his unmoving fingers and fucking him as best you can. It shatters white hot and goes straight through to your soul, wringing pleasure and wetness between your legs in waves.

Your knees are knocking against each other when Din pulls out, his cock still deliciously hard and now soaking wet with your cum, and then they just suddenly decide to give up without warning. You don’t fall necessarily, but you do slowly slide down the wall like a slug and Din follows you to the floor instead of holding you up any longer. His sternum moves quick and heavy against your back as he breathes and then suddenly the same switch at the base of his helmet is flicked, and sound bursts into existence all at once.

He’s panting. Harsh breaths behind you that match the rapid pace of his chest, and the ambient noise of the rest of the hull.

“Can you hear me?” He gasps, sounding fucking wrecked, and you nod the helmet against the wall while gravity and exhaustion and his beskar chestplate squishes you into it. “P-Put up a fight if you want me t-to stop, p-please—” he rasps out, almost the entire thing air and so close to cumming, and then his knees lift just slightly and the blunt head of his cock presses against your other entrance.

And, if you wanted, you absolutely could. He’s got you boxed into the corner but he’s not constricting your movements, he’s given you every ability to struggle. You could easily throw an elbow back against his side, push against the wall to shove him away, smack at his arms or even just flail against his body in panic—you could do one or all of those things to signal him to stop and you know he’d do it immediately, he’s asking you to. You could struggle. If you wanted.

Instead, you just grab hold of the beskar strapped to his thigh and drop the helmet to your chest, nearly vibrating with the thrill and preparing yourself for it. You know he’s gotta be inches away from orgasm, you know from the tone of his voice that he’s right there on the edge and it’s not like it’s going to last a long time. Thanks to him, you also feel like you’re just as slick and wet back there as you are between your legs, stretched open by his fingers while you came all over him. You want nothing more than to give this to him, to let him be the only person in the universe that knows how you feel this way.

When you pointedly do not put up a fight and even go so far as to arch your lower back for him in presentation, Din curses and his fingers begin jerking back and forth over your sensitive clit once more. It might normally be too much for you, but your body is sparking with lust and quickly acclimates to the stimulation, learning to burn and ache for it, too. Fuck, it feels so good, you tense and melt into it at the same time, letting him ease you back up to that peak once more.

He pushes up against the tight ring of skin and you can’t fucking explain it—his fingers keep rubbing your clit and he’s slowly pushing into your ass and—

“I—I think I’m—” you suddenly lift the helmet to gasp out in surprise, forgetting he can’t hear you, “ngh—D-Din, I think I’m gonna c—”

He’s just barely able to breach the tight entrance and fit the head inside before he freezes—and even though everything happens consecutively, it’s all so rapid that it feels simultaneous.

Your hips could go forward, but they don’t. Your body decides to send you backwards into him, pushing him inside nearly halfway all at once as your muscles lock down and just fucking strangle his cock. Your piercing scream gets trapped in the silence of his helmet as you cum once more—painfully, madly and with every fucking part of you for him. There’s maybe one or two mind shattering pulses of ecstasy before the rest of your body catches up and starts convulsing, and by then Din is already gasping and fumbling behind you, suddenly realizing what’s happening without hearing the sound of your ragged warnings and then ripping himself away just in time.

He punches out your name when he cums like you just fucking snapped him in half—his body hunches and the beskar digs hard into your back as warmth starts splattering along your skin. You crumple while he shoves his hips up against your spine, riding and working the orgasm out of himself while yours just fucking obliterates you. You think you whine his name—or a curse word or something, but it gets strained and your lungs lose air every time his powerful armored body humps you into the wall of his ship.

Finally he eases up and you just lay there and listen to the ringing in your ears. Blissfully empty, still pulsing from cumming so hard and feeling like your bones just decided to stop existing and the rest of you was okay with it since you were already on the floor anyways. You feel him shudder and twitch behind you, letting go of that last bit of tension until he too allows gravity to slouch his heavy torso over onto you.

You both stay like that for a while, until your eyes close and your everything below your waist goes numb. Eventually you feel him shift and your head bobbles as the helmet is slowly removed, but a large palm cradles your chin to stop your face from slamming into the wall in exhaustion once it’s off. You just continue to melt into the paneling like you’re nothing more than goo of a human being while he trades it back to its rightful place on his shoulders and tucks his cock back into his pants, before wrapping his arms around you and lifting you both up. The floor and metal walls, once feeling like you and them were one, suddenly decide to disappear entirely as you’re hauled up into Din’s powerful arms.

He slowly carries your naked, fucked senseless body over to the fresher, and you squint your eyes open over his shoulder to see… he’s still got his rifle slung around his back while his cum is dripping down yours. Not a single thing on him is out of place and you’re, well… a mess is a word that works. Limp and doll-like, carried like your weight is practically nothing to him after years of having the densest armor known to the galaxy strapped to his body.

Setting you down is a mess, too. At some point you think he just gives up and decides to return you to your humble floor abode with a patience and care unexpected from someone who just defiled you so thoroughly. You hear the fresher door open and the faucet squeak, before he turns back around and crouches to your level.

“Stay here,” Din tells you lowly, his modulated voice coming gentle and warm through the sounds of water raining down against metal. You don’t feel his touch directly, but your hair moves away from your face. “I’ll be right back, okay—just stay here.”

Can do. Easy. He waits until you murmur a soft mhm to him before he leaves the tiny compartment, and then you soon hear his heavy footsteps ascending the ladder to the cockpit.

***

You don’t think you fall asleep, but the powering up of the Crest’s thrusters make you realize your eyes were closed. Opening them barely qualifies as a squint though; you look around to see steam slowly filling the fresher, the water already running hot and welcoming in the small room.

You know you need to shower but you’re so fucking exhausted, you feel like you can’t even move your body. You also know you can just do the same exact thing in there as you’re doing in here, you just need to muster up the energy necessary to get inside it and then fall back asleep. He set you down in the small little space outside the shower door and then got everything set up for you, you can at least stand up and take a few steps.

Unfortunately, you might pick just about the worst time possible to plant your hands on the ground and work to struggle upright on all fours like a newborn animal. The steady rise through Nevarro’s atmosphere pushes gravity down harder than you’re expecting—is he trying to fly quickly or are you just that dead-limbed?—and then of course, by the time you do manage to fight it and successfully get on two wobbly legs to hold yourself up, the subtle shift of the hyperdrive kicking in nearly knocks you back down again. You stumble and grab the walls, bracing yourself against them and looking down at your knees in exasperation. Come on, work. Move forward. Come on.

You’re glad he’s not here to witness this monstrosity, honestly. Just opening the door and taking a few steps into the fresher is a feat—while you’re not in any pain and he didn’t leave any marks on you, you just feel… steamrolled. Ran over by a truck. Only having the strength to keep your feet beneath you as you finally move under the water and close the door behind you.

Oh, but this is wonderful. This was such a good idea, he’s so fucking smart. The shower falls warm and lovely against your body, wetting your hair and immediately heating you down to your bones. You don’t move really at all—you kinda just stand there and slouch, closing your eyes against the spray and slowly breathing the mist into your lungs. It feels so nice—not really restorative even though you like that word, it would imply the water provides you with any energy whatsoever. It just feels like a comfort, a relief and sedative for your already wildly fatigued body.

You haven’t been in here for more than a minute or two when knuckles tap gently against the metal walls of the fresher, before the natural bass of Din’s unmodulated voice murmurs from somewhere beyond it. “Hey. Keep your eyes closed.”

How did he know? You figured you’d be way ahead of him. You’re standing but slumped over, wanting nothing more than to just say fuck gravity and pass out right here. The walls are too cold to lean against now that you’re all toasty from the heat and steam, so you’re just unconsciously swaying on your feet, trying to balance the precedence of sleeping versus not falling over. You don’t even comprehend the sudden flip of the light switch overhead beyond the fact that it makes it easier to snooze without being so bright behind your eyelids.

The door eventually opens at the very same time you realize you never answered him, but you just commit to the silence at this point. It’s easy, you like it. Soon you feel warm hands touch your shoulders, slowly spinning you around while you follow and hang your head, your neck not wanting to support it any longer, and then suddenly a bare chest is pressing up against you and powerful arms are wrapping around your body, and you can just lean all of your weight into him while your head rests right here on his shoulder.

He holds you without moving for a long time, keeping you just like this—your ear pressed against his skin while water rains hot and comfortable down your back. Knowing you’re facing one of the walls, you crack your heavy lids just the slightest bit and finally notice the tiny compartment is dim and shrouded—the only light source is a single one coming from somewhere in the hull beyond the partially closed doorway. It’s dark and quiet and you can barely see anything besides the metallic fresher walls and unfocused droplets chasing each other down Din’s naked skin. Just you and him, flowing water with a sheet metal backdrop.

You think you spend an eternity like that and yet you still find yourself wanting another when he finally shifts, reaching over you to grab a bar of his generic soap but making sure to use the arm whose shoulder you’re not currently resting against.

It glides slow and hypnotic down your back, dragging up over your sides and then back down the curve of your spine. He’s so sturdy and he doesn’t say a word while he does it, lathering it along your body and rubbing it into your skin. His bar of soap, not yours. They started out almost the same since you picked them up at the same vendor, but there’s just a slightly bolder and sharper scent to his that you recognize. How the bar is far larger than yours because of how often he’s gone away.

Your eyes droop and you feel the water trail over your lips, dripping down your chin and pooling the dip of his collarbone. The only other time you two shared this fresher was terrifying and he’s rewriting the memories right now, whether consciously or not. Hot water, not freezing cold. Standing upright and supporting you. Heart beating strong under your ear, taking care of you this time until you can care for yourself.

You… you just worry so much more now, it’s becoming an issue. You didn’t realize how much until you nearly lost him, and you know in your heart that he’s just going to go away again. Throw himself into more danger, tempt death as always, risk his life for mere credits while all you can provide in return is this. Skin to skin contact. Someone to hold. Someone who knows him, who knows the way he struggles between reaching out for a softness that life has always denied him and clinging to what is rough and familiar. Someone to remind him that there’s still gentle and forgiving things in this galaxy that won’t disappear when he’s gone, and that he can always come home to them, as long as he can manage to find his way back.

Something sad tugs hard at your chest. You want to tell him not to leave. Again, again—you want nothing more than to beg him to stay. You don’t have anything better to offer instead; if he asked you how it would work, how you imagine your lives would go if he wasn’t hunting quarry on a constant timetable, you’d be hard-pressed. You don’t know. But you know what you want to say, because it’s two words you shouldn’t say but always find yourself needing to say regardless.

Don’t go.

But, instead of two words, you give him three.

Instead of asking him not to leave you again… in the haze and comfort of his arms, you think you just tell him that you love him.

And… you also don’t think the water falling down on the two of you is loud enough to cover it up this time.

It’s not ideal, you know. You know. From his point of view, he just got finished releasing all sorts of pent up tension on you, overwhelming your body with the strength and power of his in a way that normal people wouldn’t take as an expression of affection. But you know him. You know that he finds it much easier to express the things he feels in a physical way, which is why there’s a bar of soap against your back right now instead of his voice in your ear, telling you all the things you’ve always wanted to hear from him in return. You know that sex is how this all began and it’s likely just the closest link between roughness and sweetness that he can really put his hands on, something that can fit him equally as well as it fits you. Love is different, it’s thrilling and scary. Even to someone like him, who lives everyday of his life surrounded by thrilling and scary things, who’s seen more bloodshed and suffering and pain than you can ever even imagine, you know that it’s scary.

Din doesn’t say anything back to your confession, and truthfully, not a single part of you was expecting him to. It wasn’t said so he could say it back. It just is. Some things don’t need explanations, they just are. You’re okay with that.

But, you eventually come to realize that he always waits until you’re just on the very edges of sleep, holding out until your blurry vision and fading consciousness can trick you into thinking you only imagined it. You won’t ever figure out if it’s purposeful or if he just needs that long to find what he wants to say.

Another soft, lilting sentence in a language you wouldn’t be able to translate, even if you could pick out a single word. It sounds so beautiful though, regardless of how mysterious and far away its meaning feels. There’s something hidden underneath. You ache to know what it is.

But you’re so tired. You just whine softly against his shoulder, not being able to transform the thoughts into sentences anymore but hoping he understands regardless. He can’t just resort to bearing his soul in Mando’a all the time now, especially when you’re always on the verge of sleep when he chooses to do so.

But at some point, his arms subtly tighten around you and the pressure is one of the only things that’s keeping you awake anymore.

“I won’t ever ask you to,” he says to you, the quietness of his baritone getting lost in the gentle spray and your looming slumber. “I’m… not allowed to ask. I can’t.”

Your expression twitches just the slightest bit against his shoulder in confusion, wondering distantly what word or sentence you must’ve missed from before that would make him make sense. Was that a translation? Or a continuation?

But then your wet hair is slowly moved away from your nape and his head tilts down, face pressing into your neck and voice lowering until it’s nothing more than a breath against your skin, nothing more than a confession that he couldn’t ever say out loud with his full chest. It’s a secret he only ever wants you to know, a truth he’s choosing to admit to even though you could ruin him with it. You have no idea how much, you won’t know for a long time just how much power he’s giving you by telling you this one very simple thing.

“But whenever you want to look,” Din finally whispers, the only version of I love you too that a Mandalorian knows. “You can.”

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin #fanfic #reader-insert #rough day #no-droids #smut

6K notes · View notes

fromforeigntofamiliarity · 2 years

Note

you need to do a Finn Shelby try part two!!!! ❤️

Its been a few months since Carmen and Finn were married, the y had been bought a house in a nice neighborhood not too far from Polly's and fell easily into married life.

Sadly that was the only part that was going well, after the wedding the extended Changretta family had promptly returned to New York taking all but Carmen with them.

Business between the families had began with the Shelbys shipping their alcohol to New York to be sold by the Changretta family and 60 percent of the profit to be sent back to Birmingham.

Although the money was being sent Tommy began to worry as there was no sales records nor contact of any sort via letter nor telephone from the Italian's end.

"Finn have you talked to Tommy like I asked you to?" Carmen asked as she and her husband got ready for the day.

"I have, really love." Finn replied. "Its just family meeting at reserved for family only." He informed.

"I am your family Finn." She reminded raising her hand and wiggling her fingers bringing attention to her wedding ring. "Your brother's wives are allowed to attend, why can't I?"

"Why do you want to? Linda, Esme and Grace aren't even allow to speak at family meetings." Finn counted.

"But they are still there, they know what goes on in the family and in the company and I'm expected to just sit around and play house for how long?" She states letting out a sigh in frustration.

"Alright love." Finn says placing his hands on her cheeks. "I'll talk to Tommy again I promise." He assured kissing her forehead before heading out the door.

Yet another month passed and Carmen had yet to be invited or informed of any of the goings on of the Shelby family nor company.

Which only made dinner at Arrow house even more tense then normal.

Sitting down the table next to Finn across from John and Esme, Carmen had yet to speak a word to anyone at the table. She had completely zoned out a few times coming out of her head to find the conversation had changed.

"And business in New York, I assume has been good, Seeing as I haven't heard from Luca since the wedding." Tommy said to Polly. "You wouldn't be able to tell me why we haven't heard from your family Carmen." Tommy asked.

Pushing the food around her plate a bit before looking over to the man.

"I speak to my father every week Tomas," She informed. "He updates me on the family and Liquor sales every time."

"Well then you can hand them over to Finn and Finn you bring them into the office on Monday, Yeah." Tommy states matter of fact before returning to his meal.

"I don't think so Tomas." Carmen denied. "You'll receive the sale records at the next family meeting and I'll give them to you then." She corrects.

The room became deathly silent as everyone looked to Tommy in an attempt to foresee the upcoming events.

"Carmen Love." Polly says watching Tommy set his utensils down eyes locking with the young Italian girl. "Family meetings are for family only."

"And what am I?" She asked raising a brow to the older women. "Because last I check I wasn't the only one who married into this family yet I am the only on not attending the meeting and the only one with anything to contribute." She states looking around the table for anyone to disagree.

"That's a bit different-."

"What difference?" She questioned. "Because the only one I can think of brings us back to you all being racists and considering what Finn and I get up to that might be a bit awkward."

"I don't think dinner is the most appropriate time for this kind of conversation." Grace interjects.

"Well unless it's happening at the next family meeting I couldn't think of a better time Grace." Carmen countered.

"I rarely say this but Grace is right." Polly agrees.

"I don't think-."

"Hush now child." Polly interrupts waving her hand in dismissal.

"DON'T YOU 'HUSH' ME LIKE I'M A CHILD!" Carmen yelled, taking a deep breath and smoothing her blouse Carmen straightened her posture. "I think you all misunderstood what exactly was happening upon Finn and my nuptials."

"Yes I did take the Shelby last name, but I will be a Changretta always and forever, meaning I need to look after the wellbeing of my family and that includes not giving information without receiving any in return." She stood from her seat towering over the table.

"Information that I could give to Luca." Tommy pointed out.

"When my father steps down from his position, who is it that you think will be taking his place?" Carmen asked locking eyes with Tommy at the head of the table. "I will be the next capo della famiglia Changretta, Frankly Tomas the way things are going I might have to end not only this marriage but the truce between our two families and I can promise you I am nowhere near as merciful as my father. Vendetta with me will make you miss the time when I considered you family."

Pushing her chair back Carmen placed her napkin on her plate. "If you excuse me I've lost my appetite."

Exiting the dinning room, the Shelby family heard as her heals clicked all the way to the front door before it opened and slammed closed followed by the sound of a car starting and fading down the drive way.

#peaky blinders #finn shelby #peaky blinders imagine #finn shelby x oc #tommy shelby #polly shelby #luca changretta #masterlist #peaky blinders request #open requests #changretta!oc #shelby!oc #peaky blinder x oc

327 notes · View notes

ghostofskywalker · 3 years

Text

Kiss Me, I Hate You - 1

Rick Flag/Fem!Reader

Words: 2,805

Fic Summary: If this mission was as important as Waller said it was, they made a huge mistake when selecting operatives. It was bad enough you had to play housewife in a cookie cutter suburb, but the fact that you had to pretend to be madly in love with someone who hates you is just insult to injury.

Series Masterlist

When she passed you the file with the mission details, you thought it was an elaborate set up. “Very funny,” you said after taking one look inside the folder, and you threw it back onto the table in front of you. “Where’s the real one?”

But Amanda Waller didn’t laugh, and then the realization set in. “That is the real file, Captain.”

You raised your eyebrows at her statement. “So what, you’re sending me on a mission doomed to fail?”

“Are you saying you’ve given up already?”

Her stare was cold, but yours was colder. “I don’t see how you could put the Colonel and I on a mission together, an undercover mission no less, and expect it to turn out the way you want it to.”

“You are the two operatives with skill sets most conducive to this mission,” Waller said. “I don’t care what kind of petty feud you have with the man, this assignment is to be your top priority.”

“Fine,” you said with a sigh, because at the end of the day there was no way you could argue. “I can behave, but you have to tell the Flag who he’s stuck with for the foreseeable future, and that he needs to be on his best behavior too.”

“He already knows,” Waller said. “And believe me, he’s just as excited about this as you are.”

“I’m sure,” you deadpanned.

Waller got up from the table and walked towards the door. “You leave tomorrow morning,” she said as she turned back to face you. “Like I said, both of you are to be on your best behavior, and you’re not allowed to have sex with each other.”

You snorted. “Believe me, I don’t think the second one is going to be a problem.”

***

“I can’t fucking believe we have to do this,” you muttered under your breath as you attempted to shove your suitcase of clothes into the trunk of the car. Instead of being a gentleman and helping you lift it, Rick Flag stood on the curb and watched you struggle to fit your luggage into the space, thanks to the crap he had already packed.

“You and me both,” he said. “Are you done yet, or am I going to have to drive all the way there with the trunk half open and all our shit flying out?”

“Well if you actually helped instead of standing over there like a jackass, maybe we’d be on the road already,” you bit back.

“That excited to spend time with me huh?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.

You let out a sigh, resisting the urge to slap him in the face, only because it probably wouldn’t look good if the newlywed couple arriving in the neighborhood looked like they had gotten into a brawl right before they moved in. “More like I want this nightmare to be over as soon as possible,” you said.

He didn’t respond, instead choosing to push you out of the way so he could take your suitcase and try to fit it into the car. You didn’t protest, and you could hear him huffing and swearing as you got yourself settled in the passenger seat.

Neither of you spoke for the first twenty minutes of the drive, and the only sound was the music that was playing softly from the radio. You didn’t know any of the titles or the artists, and it wasn’t a station you would usually listen to, but you were glad for the distraction, and it made things a little less awkward.

The peace didn’t last for long though, because Flag had to open his big mouth and ruin it. You had started to doze off the car, the blur of the highway an almost calming presence, but he didn’t let that happen. “We haven’t planned our cover,” he said shortly, opening the passenger window so the howling wind blew in your face and woke you up.

“Well if you had read the file, then we wouldn’t need to have this conversation,” you grumbled. “They’ve already laid out a backstory for us, along with our new names.”

“Maybe I had more important things to do,” he snapped.

“Oh I highly doubt that.”

“You do know that I outrank you, right?”

“We both know that doesn’t mean a damn thing Flag,” you said. “We’re all just government playthings, and they like to sit back and watch us dance. If you think this mission is any different you’re an idiot.”

He didn’t know what to say to that, and you took it as a small comfort. When the two of you were together, it was hard to get a word in edgewise, and both of you wanted to get the last word. You had hated each other from the moment you met, and at this point you had been at odds with him for so long that you had forgotten what had even put the rift between you in the first place.

The conversation was clearly over, the two of you unable to reach a place where you could be civil, and you turned so you could face out the window, your back to him as he drove. You wondered if in another life things would be different, and if the two of you could be friends. He seemed like he would be a good friend, you thought, if he wasn’t such a jackass all the time. He seemed loyal and caring, and you had read the reports of the missions he did with the teams that had been dubbed “suicide squads.” He seemed like a good leader, and a piece of you wanted to get to know that version of Rick Flag, not the one who was seething with anger in the driver’s seat of the car that had been legally rented out to your aliases. He was attractive too, and you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about what he would be like as a lover, before your brain caught up to you and reminded you of all the terrible things he had said and all the stupid arguments the two of you had gotten into.

After what felt like a lifetime, the car turned into the neighborhood that you would be investigating. Each house was a slightly different color, but they all looked exactly the same, despite the personal items scattered on each porch stoop and front lawn to try and add a personal touch to the sea of monotony. Your mission was simple on paper, because your superiors suspected that something was amiss in this seemingly perfect neighborhood, and they already sent in a team that had been planting bugs in different houses for the past few months. You didn’t know much more than that, because you didn’t normally work with Special Ops teams and your clearance wasn’t high enough to know all the dirty little secrets, but that was fine with you. It made going undercover that much easier, because all you had to do was focus on figuring out a way to convince the neighbors that you are madly in love with a man you actually can’t stand to be in the same room with.

There was a woman standing on your porch as Flag pulled into the driveway, and you sighed, wanting a few more minutes of peace before you had to become someone else. “You ready to pretend like you don’t want to kill me?” he said as he turned off the car.

You took a breath before answering. “No, but it doesn’t look like I have a choice.” You plastered a smile onto your face as you stepped out of the car, and your legs wobbled slightly as you walked towards the front door of the house.

The woman standing on the doorstep of the house was shorter, and her dark brown hair stopped at her shoulders. She looked like the quintessential PTA soccer mom, especially with the giant gift basket she was holding. “Are you the new residents of the neighborhood?” she asked brightly.

You nodded as Rick held out his hand for the woman to shake. “That we are,” he said. “I’m Rick Davis, and this is my lovely wife Y/N.”

You had to control your expression as he said that - because those were not the names in the file. You spent the entire car ride here mentally preparing to assume the identity of Vera Lawson, a freelance journalist and literature critic who had won awards for her writing and had the luxury of working from home, not Y/N Davis. First of all, the use of your real first name worried you, and while Davis was a fairly common last name, it still felt like you were flying a little too close to the sun. And second, Rick had gone completely rogue with your identities, and if you hadn’t been able to contain your shock, it would have immediately let this woman know that something was off with you two. You had to hold your tongue, because you couldn’t exactly question him about it now.

“I’m Patty Andrews,” the woman said as she shook Rick’s hand and then yours. “I live two houses down, but I always volunteer to bring the gift basket when new couples move in. Do you two have a moving van coming today?”

That was another thing that had the potential to blow your cover, the fact that there wasn’t a moving van. “Not today,” you said, cutting into the conversation before Rick could make up anything else that you couldn’t back up. You had the file memorized back to front, and there was a section that specifically mentioned the moving van. “We had some trouble with the moving company, and because of a scheduling mix up, they won’t be arriving with the rest of our things until tomorrow,” you said. “Thankfully, one of our friends is going to be bringing us a mattress, and we have a bed frame to put together.” The file had said that someone would be arriving at the house in a few hours to bring you more information and some furniture, so you weren’t really lying. You wished that the house that the government was providing you with had just come fully furnished, but it might have raised some alarms.

“That really sucks,” Patty said. “Do you think you’ll be alright until tomorrow?”

“I thought about just staying back at our old apartment, but they’re doing construction on the street and I could hardly sleep at night,” you lied smoothly and easily, a skill that being in the military had only perfected. Sometimes you were worried about how well you could sell someone a false truth, but right now it was your saving grace. “I’d rather sleep on the floor of an empty house than spend another night listening to construction machinery tear up the road.”

Thankfully, Patty ended the conversation soon after that (something about wanting to let the two of you get settled and get a head start on building your bed frame) so you were able to drop the ridiculous act you were playing the moment you stepped inside the house.

Once the last of your things were inside, you collapsed on the carpeted floor of the bedroom. “What on earth are you doing?” Rick asked, standing over you.

“Do you see any furniture that I could sit on?” you asked, eyebrows raised as you stared up at him. “Because I don’t, and I’m tired. We haven’t even been on this mission for a full day and I already want to kill you.”

“You don’t know what’s on that floor,” he said.

You rolled your eyes. “Well sorry Your Highness, but I’m too tired to stand around for hours. Why are you so worked up about it anyway?”

“Because I don’t want to sleep next to someone who’s been laying on the floor,” he said.

“Aside from the fact that I fully plan on taking a shower this evening before bed, you do remember the fact that we’re not actually married right?” you asked, standing up to face him. “Because I wouldn’t be caught dead sleeping in the same bed as you.”

“Where are you going to sleep then?” he asked, eyebrows raised. “It doesn’t take a genius to realize that this house only has one bedroom.”

Shit, he was right. It was a temporary residence for the two of you, so the military wasn’t exactly going to put you up in a mansion. “The couch,” you said.

“Absolutely not.”

“Why? I thought you’d be overjoyed you didn’t have to spend more time with me.”

“You’re not going to jeopardize this mission by sleeping on the couch. What happens if we get a surprise visit from someone? After the way that woman was waiting at the front door before we even got here, I have a feeling that won’t be the only time someone shows up at our doorstep unannounced. And what are they going to say when they see your blankets and pillow on the couch, huh? How are we going to convince them that we’re disgustingly in love then?”

You were about to answer him when you heard a truck pull up in front of the house. Your phone went off, and an alert flashed across the screen that someone was here with a few more pieces of information for you. Rick got the same message, and he opened the door to see a man walking up the path to your house. There was a file in his hand and a mattress pinned to the top of his car. “I believe I have some things for you, Colonel,” he said as he stepped inside. “Captain,” he added as you stepped into view.

Rick helped the man bring the mattress inside as you leafed through the information in the file. It had information on some of the people in the neighborhood, but you hadn’t met any of them yet. You looked to see if they had something on Patty, the woman who was practically hovering at your front door, but there wasn’t anything in the file. She seemed normal when you spoke to her, so maybe that’s just how people were out here.

Once everything was taken care of, the man waved goodbye to the two of you and said that a moving van would be there the following morning to bring you more furniture and things, so the house wasn’t perpetually empty and it looked like the two of you were actually setting down roots here. You wondered why the government just had a set of furniture that they could just use like this, but you didn’t venture to ask.

An uneasy sense of peace settled over the house, and both you and Rick seemed reluctant to puncture it. Dinner was quiet, consisting of take-out from a local pizzeria, and it was almost more strange to be in a room with him and not be at each other’s throats. You insisted on cleaning up (mainly to get him away from you for a little while), and other than a small argument about which cabinet you were going to put the dishes in when you got them, the two of you were civil to each other. Maybe it was the realization that you would have to sleep in the same bed that made him finally stop trying to piss you off, or maybe he was just afraid you’d stab him in his sleep if he annoyed you too much.

By the time night fell, you were too tired to argue any more, even though you already fought with him again while setting up the bed frame and mattress. You laid down on your side of the bed, as close to the edge as you could get without falling off. You could tell Rick was doing the same, and that neither of you were happy about the situation. “Just stay on your side of the bed and we’ll all be fine,” you said.

Maybe it was all you had done today, or maybe it was because the mattress was one of the most comfortable things you had ever felt, but you fell asleep way quicker than you expected to, once you got past the fact that you were sleeping barely a foot away from a man you’ve hated ever since you met him. According to the papers you received today, this could take a while, depending on how quickly the army and the government could pick out the spies they’re trying to catch. You tried not to let your brain wander too much as you fell asleep, and you definitely didn’t want to be thinking about what it actually might be like to be married to Rick Flag.

- end of part one -

#rick flag #rick flag x reader #rick flag x you #rick flag x y/n #rick flag fanfiction #rick flag imagine #the suicide squad #the suicide squad fanfiction #kiss me i hate you fic

143 notes · View notes

scuttle-buttle · 3 years

Text

What's One More?

WC: 3204

Rated: M

Tags: brief mentions of crime/mental illness/child abuse and neglect/substance addiction/theft, fluff, family dynamics, mentions of aging, mentions of difficult pregnancy, softness, anxiety attack

🧠

The harsh vibrating of a phone on the nightstand breaks your slumber. Still half asleep you toss your arm back to thump against your sleeping husband's side. With a groan he answers. You try to settle back into your pillow and the warmth of the blanket. Whoever has the balls to call at this hour has another thing coming - but later because your priority is going back to sleep.

He can't have been on the call more than fifteen seconds before he sits up in bed suddenly, turning on the bedside lamp; his movements grab your attention. You roll over. The light blinds you and you rub at your eyes to adjust. You can't make out what's being said. Looking at the clock to see that it's barely 4 am you know something bad has happened. Quietly you slip out from the covers.

Making your way down the hall you peek into your daughter's room, grateful that she's still fast asleep. Her soft snores punctuate the calm. Your nerves abate knowing she’s safe. By the time you get back to the bedroom Laszlo is up and getting dressed. "What's going on?"

He doesn't answer at first. You wait until he's finished buttoning his shirt to ask again. "Sara was called to consult on a triple homicide case - she's asked for me to come down to the police station. I don't know much yet, but it's something involving a young boy and she wants me to speak with him."

“Did he…?”

“No. He was not directly involved, that much we know.”

You nod, leaning against the door frame. This wasn't the first time that Laszlo had been called in by law enforcement and social services to assist with children and teens that needed psychological help. He had become more active around the time you graduated with your doctorate. After Sophia was born Laszlo helped fund an after school program for kids that focused on support for mental health and behavioral issues. He was so passionate about being able to help these kids. But it was never at this ungodly hour. "You'll call or something when you know what's up?" you ask through a yawn.

"Of course, Bärchen." He gives you a chaste peck. Gently he guides you back towards your bed and sits you down. "Go back to sleep, there's no need to worry. I love you." With that he left.

Your sleep is fitful with him gone. You worry over things that you aren't even aware of, over who is hurt, over how severe a situation it could be to have been called in the middle of the night, over the poor boy that needs Laszlo’s help. When your daughter tiptoes into the room around 6 you welcome her into the bed with open arms.

"Why are you up, baby bug?"

"Where's Papa?" She climbs up on his side of the bed and rubs his cold pillow. On her face is a deep frown.

"He had to go help some very important people early this morning. He'll be back to see you soon, I promise."

"I miss him. He always helps me with my shoes."

You can't help the smile that crosses your face. "I know, baby. But it's still early so let's take a nap before we have to get ready, hmm?" The two of you snuggle under the covers. With her curled into your side you do find rest, even for the short time before your alarm chimes.

The day moves sluggish as you wait for word from your husband. Little work was to be done today at the museum, so there wasn't much to keep your mind off the wondering. You considered calling. You considered texting. But you knew that when the time was right he would let you know. No news is good news, you think.

Finally the day came to a close. You picked up Sophia and stopped by the store on the way home to grab supplies for dinner. She insisted that she carry one of the bags inside - little miss independent that she was. “Careful not to drop it, okay? Use those muscles of yours to hold the bag tight.”

“Mama I know, I help Papa carry all the time,” she explains matter-of-factly.

The townhouse is quiet as you begin to unpack. You do a quick glance into the dining room and parlor to no avail. "Laz, honey? You home?" A few seconds later you hear movement from the stairs.

Your husband rounds the corner into the kitchen, swooping down to scoop your daughter into his left arm, peppering her face in exaggerated smooches. Her giggles light up the room from the dim atmosphere. He perches her on his hip. “How was your day my little dove?”

“So good Papa - I practiced my counting today at school. I can get the biggest in the class! Mommy said I must be the most smartest," she prattles on.

“Wunderbar!” he praises her before turning to you. “I didn't hear you come in." Laszlo kisses you.

Pinning him with a look you say "you also didn't call me today? You said you would and I've been worried all day."

Sophia crosses her arms and harrumphs from her father's hip; "me too Papa." He quirks an eyebrow at her before speaking.

"Yes… there is something I wished to speak with you on but didn't think it was suitable for the phone." You raise your own brows but continue to put away groceries. "I do not wish to discuss certain aspects of the case in present company-" he nods towards Sophia minutely "-but we do have a houseguest for the foreseeable future."

"Oh?" Your brows dip in confusion. This is not what you were expecting.

Laszlo peeks around the doorway and calls out "Stevie, would you come join us in the kitchen please."

Stevie? You don't know a Stevie...

A moment later a lanky boy with scruffy dark blond hair shuffles into the room. He can't be anymore than 15. His clothes are too big on him and his shoes are worn beyond belief; nevertheless he gives you a slight smile. “This is Stevie Taggert, he’s going to be staying here with us in the guest room for now.”

“Good evening Mrs. Kreizler,” the boy says nervously, his voice cracking.

You spare a look at your husband before turning to the teenager with a smile. “Ah, no need for that, kid. You can just call me by my name instead. And welcome to our home. You like spaghetti?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Awesome! And I’m certainly not old enough to be a ma’am,” you give him a wink. You set up a pot to boil the water for the pasta. Laszlo excused himself to spend some time with Sophia, leaving you and Stevie in the kitchen.

He clears his throat behind you. “Would um… is there anything I can do to help?”

"I would love that, thank you."

The two of you get to work on making dinner. Stevie doesn’t say too much, but he is very polite and does his best to be useful. Once the food is nearly finished your family has returned ready to eat. You send Stevie and Sophia to set the table.

“Should I be worried?” you ask Laszlo quietly, watching the doorway the two left through.

“I don’t think so. I just felt that I would rather he have a familiar face to adjust with instead of being placed in a group home like many end up.”

You study his face. “You’ve taken a liking to him haven’t you?”

“Well…" his face reddens at your question. "He reminds me a bit of myself when I was his age.” The conversation is cut short by the kids returning.

The rest of dinner and the evening goes smoothly. You make it a point to not bring up any questions that could trigger the teenager, especially before you’ve spoken with Laszlo about the situation at hand. When Stevie nearly eats his weight in pasta you say nothing, wondering how long it's been since he's had a good home cooked meal. He insists on helping clean up the dishes afterwards. Without even knowing what the boy has gone through your heart aches for him.

You set him up in the small renovated basement downstairs while Laszlo puts Sophia to bed. Handing him one of your husband’s old Harvard t-shirts to sleep in you tell him “I’m sorry you’ll be down here by yourself, but if you need us for anything don’t be afraid to come get us - no matter what time it is, okay? And if you get cold there’s an extra blanket right here for you. I know it's July but….” you shrug. “Tomorrow after I get home from work we can go to the store and get you some stuff to use, some more clothes, that kinda thing.”

“Yes ma’am.” At the teasing look you give him his ears burn red with his mumbled “right sorry.”

“Alright Stevie. We’ll see you in the morning, sleep well.”

Laszlo is in bed reading when you enter the room. Nothing is said as you ready yourself for bed. Slipping under the covers you face him. He sighs and closes his book.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call. I became caught up in the day and only arrived home with Stevie maybe half an hour before you did.” He sighs a second time. “Most of the case I cannot talk about, but what I can say is he was living with his mentally ill father, whom was also an addict. He missed the last few weeks of the school year and has been regularly stealing food to get by. He has no other family. I just… it didn’t feel right to let him process his experiences away from someone properly trained to deal with these sorts of things, in addition to how traumatic entering foster care at his age can be. I spoke with those in social services and was granted temporary custody until we find another more permanent solution.”

“Of course.”

He takes hold of your hand. “You aren’t upset with me?”

“I mean it would’ve been nice to have a bit more warning… but I get it. He can stay as long as he needs to. He’s a sweet kid,” you reassure him. “I told him that I would take him shopping after work tomorrow, so if you could pick up Soph from preschool that would be great.”

“Perhaps instead we can all go? I was thinking that I would bring him to the university with me so that he’s not alone all day. You could get her and then we could meet somewhere, get dinner afterwards?”

You lean closer to him to curl around his arm and rest your head on his shoulder. He always thought so much about others, especially children. Laszlo had such a heart of gold and it honestly left you in awe of just how much he was willing to give so that others could find peace and happiness. Like the older he got the more he had to give. The thought warms you. “How are you literally the best person I know? And to think you used to be so worried about being able to be a good father and now you’re the best of all of us.” He huffs a little as you nuzzle into his chest.

“I have you to thank for that, Bärchen.” He drops a kiss to your head. “But it’s getting late and I’ve been up all day. We should get some sleep.”

Soon after you're both dreaming.

___

Stevie had been with you for three weeks. It only took him a few days to start to settle in, and you discovered that he was quick with his wit and far smarter than he let on. He was a little bit of a sarcastic smart-ass at times, but all in good nature. He was endlessly entertaining. Laszlo sat down with him almost everyday to talk about what he was feeling, the things he experienced, and ways to deal with the loss of his family. Already you both saw improvement.

Even Sophia got on well with him. Most teenage boys wanted nothing to do with little kids, let alone a 4 year old that loved playing 'spaceship barbie'. But not Stevie. On his fifth day you'd found him sat on the floor playing with her and going along with her childlike imagination. When she insisted he play the barbie that needed saving he went along with it, high pitched voice and everything. He even encouraged her to pick up her toys before bed - a feat you and your husband struggled with at times. It struck you how much Stevie became a big brother of sorts to her.

Laszlo grew even more fond of the boy. He wasn't really one for TV, but every evening he sat and watched some show on Netflix about racing with the teen and didn't complain once. Laszlo had tried to explain the role of adrenaline in racing drivers as a psychological function, but Stevie just brushed it off and said it was the driving so fast that made it "cool".

The two did bond over an unlikely subject - punk rock. When you got home from work two weeks into his stay and heard the music blasting in the parlor you worried someone had broken in. Whipping into the room you saw Laszlo in his chair tapping his foot to the intense guitar and singing; Stevie nodded along to the music as he held an old album cover. It didn't take long for Sophia to start jumping along to the music too.

"What is this?" You yelled out over the bass - you couldn't recognize it and it clearly wasn't English.

"Die Toten Hosen, a band I listened to growing up in Germany. Stevie found the record and asked to listen."

"Listen? I think you mean blow out your eardrums!" Even with needing to shout to be heard you had to laugh at the situation. How your husband had a secret love for German punk you'll never know; yet you would never let him live it down.

And when Stevie came and woke you both up in tears three nights ago you made him hot chocolate while Laszlo sat down with him. He confessed that he had never been treated or cared for like he was in your home. How he wished he could stay because he felt wanted. Your heart broke for the boy. To be so young and so lost, craving someone to simply be there for him.

Yet everyday he grew more open. He broke out of his shell. He had goals and ambitions; he wanted to amount to something bigger than he had thought he ever could. It almost shocked you at how much fire was within him.

At how much he fit in with your little family.

At how it was like he was meant to be there.

___

Laszlo was oddly quiet when you got home. Sophia had run off to find Stevie, and you tracked your husband down to his office. He listened as you talked about your day for a good ten minutes; he said almost nothing the whole conversation.

You move closer to him. Placing the back of your hand to his forehead you check to see if he's feverish or sick. He didn't feel warm. "Laz, are you feeling okay?"

He gently pulls your hand down and leaves a kiss on your palm. "The department of social services called this morning to inquire about what we want to do with Stevie. This would be the third time they have asked."

He hadn't mentioned it to you at all that they were calling already. "Okay. What do you think we should do?" You pause for him to continue.

"I told them I would need to speak with you before any further decisions were made regarding him…" His fingers tap against the wood of his desk. "I'm not sure I have an answer for them. Nor for you." He swallows. "I'm afraid of what might become of him should he go into the system. Or that he will not get the support he needs given his past. Any option involving allowing him to stay for a bit longer is a commitment I won't make without your full support, of course. I could never ask that of you." As he speaks you can hear the frustration pouring from him, feel the irritation radiating through the room. "I refuse to give up on him- I- I just don't have the answers on what to do without them hounding me and he deserves better than this, dammit."

"He does… Do you remember on your 50th birthday, what you told me?" Laszlo looks up at you confused. "You said that you had wished you were ten years younger so you had the energy and time to do all of it again. That if you were younger we would've had a whole gaggle of kids - brothers and sisters for Sophia."

"Wishing I was younger doesn't make a difference in helping Stevie-"

"Laszlo - let's adopt him." Your words stop him in his tracks. You had decided not to have any more after your daughter was born. Laszlo was nearing 50 and the pregnancy had been hard on you. But regardless you knew that you both had the means and the love to give another child, probably five or ten more children if you really wanted to. So why not start with one that's already wormed his way in to the family? "I've seen how fond you are of him already. You've taken him under your wing as if he was your own. And how good he is with Sophia? Hell I couldn't ask for a better older sibling for her - and she loves him already. And honestly, Laz, I do too."

"You think we should adopt Stevie?"

"I think we should ask, yeah. He deserves a good home and a strong father figure that's going to put him first. He looks at you like you hung the stars, Laszlo. He needs us, and truthfully I think we need him. So yeah - what's one more added to this little shindig we've got going for us?"

"Have you-"

"-thought it through? Yes. Completely."

You can see the smile he fights to hold back. "We should call tomorrow and see what the protocol is for stating our intent to adopt and getting the paperwork."

"Um…" You shuffle your feet. Nose scrunched, you confess "I may have already called them. On the way from work I asked about what would need to be done if we wanted to pursue that route, but since they already know who we are from you working with them for years it can be fast tracked." You pull him out of his chair to stand before you. "All we have to do is say 'go'."

He has no hesitation.

"Go."

Laszlo doesn't hold back his smile or his laughter as he spins you around his office floor. You're certain your children downstairs can hear your giggles.

Tag list

@hardlyinteresting @lorna-d-m @livvyshmiv @somethingthatsaysbubbles @greeneyedblondie44 @unbeatablecurlgirl @apparrio @marchingicenotes7 @anteroom-of-death @bruhidaniel @lemairepstuff @thehuiabird @zemosimp05 @alindeluce @iamnotthecatladynextdoor @laura-naruto-fan1998 @trelaney @boneheadduluc @i-am-dead-inside-666 @fictionlandslanddreams @that-one-fandom-kid @hb8301 @fandom-princess-forevermore @foggycandywitch @creme-bruhlee @andy-rocks @nonamec0s @everythingbeginsineternity-blog @uncomfortablebagel @rachelicouss @wisia02

124 notes · View notes