#I mean he still very much looks like him so who knows

[girl-lostconnection]

A little addition to this. Shout out to @sundaescreamcheese because they’ve guessed right.

Warnings: Banished knight!Ghost x Witch!Reader x Bloodhound knight Soap, Elden Ring AU, Johnny is a bit of a dog, possessive behaviour, suggestive themes, smut at the end, biting

“Hail, witch”, gruff low voice would have startled you if your wards didn’t tense the moment he stepped onto your territory.

You don’t know what he’s doing here, this deep in the woods, this far from his usual duties and this far from Stormveil Castle.

But you aren’t going to be rude to the man in full armour, with a sword taller than you.

If whatever he seeks can be found without much hassle and he could get off your territory that would be great.

“Hail, knight”, you muse back, careful distance from him. Your wards won’t let him step much closer to the cottage, not unless you specifically grant him entrance and for now…for now you aren’t sure you should.

The man looks at you — someone’s skull now adoring the front of his helmet, his horse a menacing thing that huffs out cold air in agitation. Yeah, it’s no easy journey to get here.

That’s why you live here.

The man in front of you is tall and absolutely huge, more monster than a knight. Makes you wonder what happened for someone like him to become Banished.

What brought him to your doorstep.

You sigh, a little grateful that Johnny is too busy fussing over chickens in the backyard because gods know he can’t stand strangers. Even more than you so.

“You seek refuge or favour?”, you tilt your head to the side, eager to get rid of him faster. Johnny may not be able to run like he did before but he’s still one very good Bloodhound. You don’t have much time until he will stalk outside to see what’s going on in front of your house.

(The previous visitor that had a gall to grab your hand before leaving was hunted down by Johnny. Hunted down and brought back, the hand that gripped you resting on the first step of your porch)

Banished knight looks at you for a few very long moments but if sensing your agitation, gets off his horse — landing on his feet with grace, that sends shivers down your spine.

He’s not just big.

He’s in a very good control of his body and he’s very aware of his size.

He’s dangerous.

Your wards tense up, not letting him through when he steps forward and he freezes as if he forgot about them. Though who knows, maybe he did forget.

Knights did have tendency to feel like they are owed entrance wherever they go, perhaps this one is no different.

“I need to find another knight. Bloodhound”, his voice is low, muffled by the helmet he doesn’t take off — dark eyes boring into you, staring you down from the high of his height.

Your brows furrow at the strange request, heart thumping faster. There’s only one knight who has been around these parts of the woods.

And he’s no longer Bloodhound. You are not giving him back. You are not going to let anyone take him away and rip him off everything you and time out here have been slowly restoring.

“I can’t help you”, you voice sharp, unusually so and Banished knight tilts his whole body forward as if trying to press himself through the wards, his fingers curling and uncurling — leather of his glove creaking.

“I don’t need much, witch. Just tell me where he went. And I will leave”, Banished presses further, shoulders tense and voice curling around your throat like a grip.

He takes a breathe before stepping back, raising his hands in half-hearted placating gesture.

“I mean no harm. I can pay if you need. Just tell me if you saw him”, he sounds almost gentle, head tilting down so he can look in your eyes without you having to crane your neck at him. “I’m…a friend”, he adds reluctantly, like he needs to physically tear the words out of himself.

Your brows furrow further and coincidentally Johnny couldn’t find a moment to show up better than now, sound of his walking uneven — still a limp to his step.

He rolls out of the house, picture of faux nonchalance, despite the sharp edge to his eyes.

“Hen, you alright? I heard-“, words die on his tongue when he sees the Banished knight, eyes widening. There is a strange kind of hunger in his gaze.

You don’t like it.

Because Banished knight sees Johnny and almost lunges himself in his direction, the only thing stopping him are the tethers of your wards, curling around his throat, forcing him back, forcing him out.

Air smells like ozone, air cracks with pressure, your fingers quickly warming up with a spell because you were right.

This man is dangerous. He saw Johnny.

You can’t let him leave now. He will need to disappear.

But Johnny grips your shoulders and shakes his head, eyes mad and desperate, an anguish to his face that you don’t quite understand.

“Nae, hen. It’s Simon. Don’t”, he breathes out, fingers digging into your skin, eyes boring into yours.

You glance back at Banished knight and he’s sitting on his knees now, tethers forcing him down, still tightly wrapped around his throat.

He’s dangerous. You don’t know him.

But Johnny’s nose presses to your cheek, breathing shuddering and he doesn’t let go of you. He doesn’t pull away until you give him a slow tentative nod.

Your fingers flick, soft popping of tethers letting go audible in the air and Johnny actually lunges himself at the Banished knight, sending them both tumbling in the snow.

Knight holds onto him with such hunger something in you churns uncomfortably. What if he will take Johnny away?

Your fingers warm up with the subconscious desire to push the strange man (Simon, his name is Simon) out. Out of your territory, out of your woods, out of your life.

But Johnny looks genuinely happy to see him so you let it go, just sitting yourself down nearby. You’ll be damned if he gets injured just because you looked away for a second.

But Simon grips Johnny like he’s the lifeline and answer to his prayers. Simon’s palms slide all over Johnny’s body, stroking sides, checking for wounds or tethers (your lips practically curl in snarl when you notice. Who the fuck does he think you are?).

He pauses at Johnny’s bad knee, touch getting more careful, eyes expectant and suddenly on you.

“Old injury”, you tell him for some reason. Not like you actually have to. You don’t owe this man anything, he’s unwelcome guest in your home. “I did what I could. If I found him later, he’d probably be without leg by now. Infection practically ate him alive”

Banished knight holds your eyes for a very long moment and then melts back into Johnny, murmuring something under his breath — too far for you to hear.

Doesn’t matter. The man isn’t staying in your home. He’s dangerous.

You tell that yourself and finally go back into the house to put kettle on. It’s too cold to stay mad out in the open. He’s not staying here anyway, so there’s no need to get too riled up.

He’s not staying but Johnny still shifts his weight from one leg to another in the doorway, Simon looming over his shoulder. They both look like a pair of big, wet from snow dogs.

You look at Johnny unimpressed but he tilts his head to the side, grown out strands of hair falling over his forehead. It should be illegal to be that bloody handsome.

You sigh and gesture for them to get in.

Okay, tea never harmed anyone. You’ll let this man warm up and he’ll be on his way before the sundown.

With or without Johnny.

The thought makes bile rise in your throat but you force it down focusing on the task at hand.

You can’t keep him if he’d want to go and you won’t humiliate yourself with begging him to stay.

But Johnny, so attuned to your moods by now, so used to having you chat for both of you steps closer — hands wrapping around your waist, part of his weight leaning on you to give a break his healthy leg.

“Yer not happy”, he notes, nose pressing to your ear, huffing out air and you can’t help but relax, letting him lean on you. He’s warm, heat rolling off him in waves, seeping through the sweater you made for him. Your head tilts back on his shoulder and he presses a kiss to your neck.

“He’s dangerous”, you muse quietly and ignore the chuckle Simon lets out. Banished knight is now sitting in front of your fireplace, cloak taken off and hanged on the chair to dry out.

Johnny just nods, calloused fingers rubbing idle circles on your solar plexus. It’s a long moment before he speaks again.

“I’m dangerous”, it’s said almost causally, his breath ghosting over your neck and you suppress the urge to roll your eyes.

“It’s different”, you snap back immediately.

Simon huffs behind your back and if Johnny wasn’t leaning on you, you’d have probably thrown something in the man. He’s not going to laugh at you in your own bloody house.

“Simon’s not bad, hen”, Johnny breathes out, tone softer, teeth grazing over sweet spot behind your ear, heat dripping down to your abdomen. Bastard. He knows what he’s doing.

“And Simon is not staying here”, you grumble, pouring herbal blend in three mugs, suppressing the urge to shiver when Johnny bites your neck.

“Hen”, he starts and you already know where it leads, you head shaking quickly.

“No”, you cut him off and nudge him with a shoulder to step back so you can move. “Move, I need to give this Banished his bloody tea”

Johnny grumbles but peels himself off you, less than happy to lose the comfort and warmth your body provides. Less than happy to let you slip out of his grasp.

“He can stay in the barn”, Johnny offers and just grins when you send him a glare. His teeth itch to sink into the nape of your neck, press you into the bed, lick the fight and agitation out of you, make you soft and pliant.

“I said no”

“Hen”

“He’s dangerous”

“Hen, have mercy”

Simon watches the way you two bicker, enjoying that none of you even noticed he took the helmet off to drink the tea you placed on the table with more force than necessary, some of it trickling down the rims of the mug.

Simon huffs out a dry chuckle when Johnny tries to pull you back into his hands and you sidestep, smacking his hands away. Leaving Bloodhound almost pouting.

“Cruel”, he complains to Simon, hands crossing over his chest. But despite everything…Johnny looks good. Better than Simon remembers him.

He’s wider now, there is bulk to him that Bloodhound Knight Johnny didn’t have. His eyes are brighter.

He is talking.

Simon didn’t even know Johnny could fucking talk, thought all Bloodhounds are mute. Courtesy of the profession.

“I understand you want to sleep with your Banished in the barn today?”, the witch arches their brow at Johnny and groans when his eyes light up.

Like a bloody dog catching the whiff of blood on the hunt. Old habits die hard, evidently.

“You can stay”, Johnny announces to Simon like it’s his personal victory, like he brought his master a good game after the hunt and is waiting to get his ear scratched.

His grin so wide it’s a miracle his face doesn’t crack. Witch rolls their eyes but Simon sees the way their lips twitch.

Seems not only he has a soft spot for Johnny.

Maybe it should’ve made him feel uneasy but if anything he feels satisfied, like something finally clicked in place. Puzzle finally unlocking in his hands, showing him the reward.

Simon tilts his head to the side, scar crossing his lips stretching when he smiles down at you.

Yeah, he’s staying.

A day turns into a couple days and then into two whole weeks because of the blizzard, Simon pushing further and further.

Eyes heavy and dark when he’d catch a glimpse of your throat or Johnny’s bites — purple bruises on your neck, soft creaking of the bed upstairs whenever it happened.

Simon doesn’t tell you that he moved from barn to the cot in the kitchen and you pretend that you don’t know he’s been sleeping there for the last week.

Simon pretends in return that he doesn’t strain his ears, catching the smallest sounds Johnny tears out of you. That he doesn’t lean on the cold wall of the kitchen, thighs spread wide, his eyes closed. That his hand doesn’t find its way to touch himself, stroking at almost lazy pace.

After all, Johnny is not starving Simon of little love here and there, eyes electric blue, mouth slick on the inner side of Simon’s thighs — your taste still on his lips.

Simon worms himself into your life and starts moving bloody furniture so he can position himself more comfortably, clicking his tongue when you hiss at him — tilting his head at you the same way a heavyweight horse would at the farm’s cat.

His fingers catch your jaw when you grumble that he rearranges your kitchen again, his lips pressing to yours.

You take a step back just to feel Johnny’s warm chest pressing into you, breathing heavier than usually, hands wrapping around you.

Simon angles your face so he can slip his tongue in your mouth, groaning appreciatively when you let him in. When you tilt your head up, allowing his fingers to curl over your neck.

Here we go. Finally.

Simon licks your lower lip, finally pulling away and reaches for Johnny just to give him a kiss just as wet, now grinning like a well-fed creature. Satisfaction dripping out his every pore.

Johnny nuzzles into your hair, breathing out a low “think Simon can sleep with us now, hen?” and you just nod. Your legs jelly that don’t hold you properly, head stuffed with cotton, skin tingling from the heat of their stares.

That’s…an unexpected turn. You were ready for Simon to leave. You were ready for Johnny to leave with him.

But this…this is a surprise.

Simon presses a short kiss to your forehead and walks away to feed the livestock. There’s a new spring to his step, as if something just depressurised his spine, letting him grow a few inches up.

The issue arises only when it’s time to actually sleep because Johnny is insatiable and he refuses to move anywhere from between your thighs, not reacting to anything.

Especially not to Simon walking in.

You feel hot, Johnny’s tongue sending white hot sparkles down your spine, your eyes meeting Simon’s whose pupils blow wide and god, he’s more monster than a knight.

He’s the solide presence when he crawl in bed to pull you into his lap, big palms holding you open for Johnny, fingers sinking in the meat of your thighs.

“Eager today, aren’t we, sweet’eart?”, Simon sucks his own mark in your skin, teeth grazing your throat, his grip on your thighs getting stronger when you make the prettiest needy sound.

Music for his ears.

“It’s okay. Gonna take good care of ya. Gonna take care of both of you”, he practically purrs, sliding his fingers down your body to find the fluttering hole, dipping in it just to marvel at your body swallowing his first knuckle.

Johnny whines, his tongue circling lower, curling around Simon’s fingers, making you choke on your own breathing because too much-too hot-too wet.

Simon presses a kiss to your jaw, grin wicked and dark, stubble on his cheek scratching your skin.

“Be good, luv”, he murmurs, eyes heavy and hungry when Johnny sucks his fingers in, practically gagging on thick digits. “Open up for us”

Johnny bites on the fingers in his mouth before pulling away, dropping back down between your legs, sinking his teeth in the meat of your thigh.

Marking.

Simon smiles wider and adds a second finger, pushing in deeper, cooing in your neck when your hips buckle.

There’s no rush, love. They aren’t going anywhere.

After all, you already let them in. They might as well make themselves at home.

Johnny‘s tongue traces the bite mark on your thigh, his eyes fixed on another one he left on Simon’s knuckles that are currently sinking inside of you. Wet squelching sound sending a heatwave through Johnny’s whole body.

So welcoming to them. So sweet, hen. It would be their pleasure.

[mariasont]

Laced With Love - A.H

summary: while hotch is away on a case, you do nothing but shop, and when hotch insists you use his card who are you to disobey him? especially when what you buy benefits the both of you

masterlist

pairings: aaron hotchner x bimbo!assistant!reader

warnings: 18+ MDNI, reader spending hotch's money (it's giving sugar daddy af), so much teasing, fingering, oral fem receiving, hotch worshipping reader, some inappropriate comments made in front of morgan accidentally, they both just completely forget about dinner and don't mention so ya know my bad, dirty talk, soft dom hotchy poo

wc: 3.5k

You had a little problem.

It all started innocently enough: one coffee to-go, a quick window shop in your favorite boutique, and somehow that led to you walking out with a bag containing the most adorable pair of heels that you couldn't leave behind. Then it snowballed—another store, another bag. A perfume counter. A cute sweater that was on sale, and, well, that one really didn't count because it was practical. It was warm. Functional, even.

Okay maybe you had a big problem.

But it wasn't until your phone buzzed in your bag, pulling you out of a deep debate over whether you needed the floral dress you were holding, that you realized just how many bags were hanging off your arms.

Mr. Bossman flashed across the screen.

The name was completely ridiculous (and more than a little outdated now that he was your boyfriend), but it fit in a weird, nostalgic way. He'd been away on one of those long-distance cases, the kind where you weren't needed, and you'd been counting the days (and minutes) until he'd call. 

You grabbed your phone so fast you almost dropped the dress.

"Hi!" you answered, a little too quickly, your voice so giddy and sugar-sweet it could've given you a toothache. He always teased you for it, but right now you didn't care.

"Hi." His voice was warm, a little rough around the edges with exhaustion. "Just wanted to call and let you know I'll be home tonight."

Your heart practically leapt at his words. "Really? Finally! I thought I was going to shrivel up and die from boredom without you here. Okay, maybe not die, but like... what's the point of anything if you're not home to tell me I bought too many candles?"

"I'm not sure how you've lasted this long," he said. "Should I be worried about the state of the house? Or your bank account?"

"First of all, rude. Second of all, if you are so worried, maybe you shouldn't leave me alone for that long. Ever thought of that, Mr?"

His laugh came through the line, short and deep, and it hit you square in the chest. You closed your eyes, leaning into the sound like it could somehow bring him closer. You could see him so clearly--the way his face softened in a way that made him look ten years younger, the way his shoulders would drop, the way his eyes would crinkle. You missed him so much it hurt.

"Poor thing," he teased, still chuckling softly. "What's a girl to do when I'm not there entertain her? Besides spend my money, I mean."

"Don't worry, Aaron, your money is perfectly safe. My super respectable paycheck—you know, the one you sign—is covering me today."

"Hmm," he said, his voice still muffled. "Sounds like your boss is paying you too much."

"I don't know... I think you're getting a pretty good deal considering I keep you very taken care of. Would you like me to prove it later?"

"Hotch, tell me I did not just hear that."

You froze mid-breath, your hand flying to cover your mouth as a wave of heat rushed to your cheeks. That was Morgan’s voice. Morgan. You felt like a cartoon character with steam pouring out of your ears as your face burned red hot.

A nervous little squeak escaped you just as you heard Aaron fumbling with the phone, his voice clipped as he said something you couldn’t quite make out. There was a muffled shuffle, the sound of a door shutting, and finally, the blessed beep that meant he’d taken you off speaker.

"Christ, honey."

You peeked through your fingers, cheeks still burning as you tried to decide if you should laugh, cry, or maybe just dig yourself a hole and live there forever.

"So," you said, hesitating for a beat, "scale of one to ten, how dead am I? Should I preemptively file an HR complaint against myself, or just let Morgan handle my inevitable downfall?”

You heard him exhale sharply, the creak of a chair following as you pictured him leaning back with that half-smile he always gave when he was equal parts amused and exasperated.

“It’s fine. It’s a little embarrassing, sure. But nothing Morgan hasn’t done to himself ten times worse. He’ll give you a hard time for a day or so, Garcia will laugh, and then they’ll let it go.”

There was brief pause, and you could practically hear the smirk in his voice. “That being said, maybe think twice before making explicit promises while I’m at work, honey.”

You bit your lip, your gaze dropping to the shopping bag in your hand as you toyed with the strap absentmindedly.

"I mean, it's only fair I keep my promise now," you said softly, barely loud enough for him to hear. "It's the least I can do."

You heard a faint sound in the background—maybe him clearing his throat—before his voice dropped an octave. "You're already on thin ice today. Don’t make promises you can’t deliver on."

You let out a little huff, batting your lashes instinctively even though you knew he couldn’t see it.

"I don't know why you're doubting me, Mr. Hotchner. You should know I'm very serious about keeping my promises."

"You know, you're not making this easy on me, " Aaron muttered, his voice low and gruff. You could hear a faint groan, followed by what sounded like pacing on the other end. "Alright, I've really got to go now. Behave yourself. And how about you use my card for the rest of the shopping trip?"

"No, Aaron, I can't!" you said quickly, shaking your head as if he could see you. "You'd never trust me again with your card after the damage I'd do. Besides, you're already going to be shaking your head when you see what I got with my own money."

Aaron sighed, his voice going into that low, authoritative tone that always made your stomach flip.

"You will use the card." There was no room for argument in his words. "I want you to. End of discussion."

And just like that, the call ended with a click. You stared at the screen for a moment as if it might magically reopen the call so could argue your case one more time. But, of course, that didn't happen.

He’d told you to use his card—he demanded it, actually—but your fingers still hesitated, clutching the little piece of plastic like it was about to bite you.

You glanced at the white lace lingerie folded neatly on the counter, the delicate fabric practically winking at you. It wasn’t just pretty—it was the kind of perfect that made your heart flutter. Normally, you’d talk yourself out of something so indulgent, but this time? Well, Aaron had practically begged you to buy something… and you couldn’t think of a better way to treat both of you.

You only hesitated for the briefest moment before swiping his card, your heart doing a little flip as the cashier folded the lingerie into tissue paper with careful hands. It felt like a tiny secret between you and Aaron—a very fun secret.

By the time you got home, the sun had started to dip below the horizon, and you knew you had some time before Aaron made it back. He always gave you a pretty reliable ETA. It was the perks of dating someone so anal.

You lugged your shopping bags up to the bedroom, your arms aching a little, but in the best way possible. Once in the bedroom, you started unpacking everything like it was Christmas morning. Dresses went in the closet, shoes were lined up neatly, and you stashed the receipts in the nightstand just in case Aaron did ask how much damage you'd done.

Then you pulled out the piece—the one you'd bought with him in mind. The silk felt decadent under your fingertips, and the delicate lace was almost too beautiful to wear. Almost. It fit like a glove, hugging every inch of you like it had been tailored specifically for this moment. 

Feeling pleased with yourself, you made your way to the kitchen and slipped into your favorite frilly apron, tying the bow neatly at the back. Cooking wasn’t exactly your specialty, but you were determined to make this work. Pasta seemed foolproof enough (right?), and you threw together a salad and garlic bread for good measure. By some miracle, nothing caught on fire, and the kitchen actually smelled amazing.

You found yourself glancing at the clock every few minutes. When you finally heard the sound of a key turning in the lock, you glanced over your shoulder, heart skipping a beat.

"Hi honey!" you called sweetly, pretending as if standing in the kitchen wearing practically nothing was the most common thing in the world.

Aaron stepped inside, the door clicking behind him, but the second his eyes landed on you, he froze. His tie was loosened, his sleeves slightly wrinkled, and his hair looked like he’d run his fingers through it at least a dozen times today. But none of that mattered now—he stood there like he’d forgotten how to breathe, his dark eyes drinking you in.

You smiled at him, slow and innocent, brushing your hands lightly against the counter. "Dinner's almost ready."

"Sweetheart..." His voice was deeper than usual, strained and almost ragged, like he was trying to pull himself together and failing miserably.

"Yes?" you replied, acting as if you didn’t notice the way his eyes were glued to you while you turned off the burner and set the pan aside.

"What..." He swallowed hard, his throat bobbing as his gaze dragged down your body, lingering shamelessly on the curve of your ass. "What are you wearing?"

You turned to face him fully, the delicate lace tugging just slightly as you moved, drawing his eyes lower without him even realizing it.

"Oh this?" you said, gesturing vaguely to the piece. "It's just something I picked up today. You told me to use your card, so I thought I'd get something you'd like."

His jaw tightened, eyes scanning you slowly before lingering on the pink bows peeking out over the apron. "You used my card on this?"

"Mm-hmm," you hummed, your hands gliding down the soft lace as you took a step closer, looking up at him through your lashes. "I figured it was an investment. You know, for both of us."

Aaron groaned, low and frustrated, pinching the bridge of his nose for a brief second before letting his hand drop.

“Using my card for this…” His voice was rough as he closed the space between you in one long stride, his hands landing on your waist and pulling you flush against him. His lips curved into the faintest smirk as his voice dipped lower. “Was the one thing you’ve done right today. Now take this off—slowly, sweetheart—and let me see exactly what I bought.”

He pinched at the bow on your apron, his fingers tugging lightly, but you stepped back just enough to be out of his immediate reach.

“If you were that eager to see what I bought,” you teased, your fingertips grazing one of the straps of the apron, “maybe you shouldn’t have left me waiting so long.”

You slipped one strap off your shoulder, letting it fall halfway, then paused, tilting your head slightly as if daring him to come closer.

"Trying on pretty things, waiting for me to come home—must've been absolutely draining," Aaron shook his head slowly.

You pouted at him, pushing your bottom lip out just enough to make his eyes soften. He chuckled quietly, stepping closer until his hands braced the counter on either side of you, caging you in.

 "But you know what? I missed you too. And seeing you like this... makes being away feel like torture."

Your pout melted into a glowing smile as your hands found their way to his chest, your fingers brushing lightly over his shirt.

“You mean it? You really missed me?”

"Of course I did." His hands cupped your jaw gently, his thumbs brushing along your cheeks as if he couldn’t quite believe you were real. His other hand moved slowly to the bow at your waist, pulling the knot loose with an easy tug. "Now, angel, let me see what else I've been missing."

The apron slipped to the ground, forgotten, as Aaron’s eyes locked onto you. He blinked once, then twice, his expression unreadable except for the slight parting of his lips, like he’d been robbed of air.

His gaze traveled over you like a slow caress, taking in the way the lace hugged your curves, teasing him with everything it didn’t quite cover. His eyes lingered on your chest, where the sheer fabric exposed the peaks of your nipples, and you caught the subtle hitch in his breath as he swallowed hard, his jaw clenching slightly.

You tilted your head, letting your expression soften into something sweetly innocent as you leaned back against the counter. The lace shifted with the movement, exposing just enough to make his jaw tighten. Then, just for a second, you parted your legs, catching his sharp inhale as you gave him a soft, almost shy smile.

When he realized what wasn't under the lace, his eyes snapped back up to yours. Without a word, he dropped to his knees, hands sliding over your thighs until they rested just above your knees.

A soft gasp escaped your lips, heart skipping several beats as you stared down at him. You hadn't expected this. Not the way his knees hit the floor like it was second nature, not the way his palms spread wide against your skin, thumb brushing over the curve of your inner thighs as he looked up to you.

He must be exhausted, that was your only explanation. But then his hands pressed harder into your thighs, and the thought evaporated. His eyes weren't clouded with exhaustion—they were focused, like he was memorizing every inch of you. 

Your stomach twisted sharply, your legs suddenly feeling like they couldn’t hold you upright anymore. He was looking at you like you were the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. That singular thought settled in your chest, blooming like a flower, before curling low in your belly, leaving you breathless.

His lips grazed your thigh in the softest of touches, like he was savoring the moment. Slowly, he pressed another kiss, firmer this time, his fingers tightening around your thighs as his grip became more insistent. He kissed you again, higher and slower, his nose grazing your skin, breath fanning over you. A deep, contented hum rumbled from his chest.

"What have I done," he murmured, his voice rasping like the words have been pulled from his chest, "to deserve this? To deserve you?"

His eyes flickered up to meet yours. "Tell me, angel, because I'd do it a hundred times over if it meant to have you like this."

You wanted to tell him everything—the depth of your love, how he made you feel like the luckiest person alive—but the words lodged in your throat.

"Aaron... I... you're just..." you stammered, voice trembling as your fingers curled around the edge of the counter. 

Before you could gather your thoughts, he lifted one of your legs, hooking it over his shoulder, fingers digging into your skin. His lips brushed higher, dangerously close to your exposed cunt, and a soft, broken sound escaped you.

He hummed against your skin, the vibration shooting straight through you. 

"What's the matter, sweetheart?" His breath was hot against your thigh. "You always have so much to say. Don’t tell me you’re out of words already. I haven’t even started.”

"I was going to tell you how—oh, gosh, Aaron—"

Your words you had been trying to string together scattered completely, replaced by a shaky moan as his mouth pressed firmly against your clit. Your breathing stuttered, your chest rising and falling as waves of pleasure coursed through you, drowning out every thought but him.

His mouth was everywhere—warm, insistent, and impossibly skilled as his tongue traced over your clit with maddening precision. He worked like a man possessed, drawing sounds from you that you didn't even know you were capable of making. He was too good at this—too good at knowing exactly where and how to touch you, too good at making you fall apart with just his mouth.

Then he shifted, his hand gripping your other thigh as he lifted your second leg over his shoulder, leaving you completely at his mercy. The sound you made was somewhere between a gasp and a moan, your hands flying to his hair as your head tipped back.

Your back pressed against the edge of the counter awkwardly, a dull ache building in your lower spine, but it was nothing compared to the torrent of pleasure radiating through you. His tongue moved in devastating accuracy, his hands gripping your thighs like he was gluing you to himself. Your chest moved in shaky breaths, his name slipping from your lips in trembling cries that you couldn’t hold back.

"If I'd known this would be my reward," you gasped, tugging hard at his hair, your words faltering as your head tipped back. "I'd have emptied your whole wallet—oh, fuck—“

His lips closed firmly around your clit, pulling firmly in a way that destroyed your sentence completely. His hands tightened on your thighs, keeping you locked exactly where he wanted you.

"You must really mean it if you're cursing now." His tongue flicked over you again, making your back arch sharply. "Didn’t know you had that in you... let’s see what else I can get you to say, angel."

A warm flush spread up your neck and into your cheeks, heat rising faster than you could control. "I didn't mean to--"

You were cut off once again as his finger slid into your pussy. Any trace of embarrassment was gone, swept away by the overwhelming need pooling deep in your core, leaving nothing but raw desire in its place.

The pressure, coiling low in your stomach, was building so fast you could barely keep up with it. Every tell-tale sign was there—the trembling of your thighs, the way your chest shuddered in shallow breaths, and most incriminating of all, the words spilling from your lips before you could even think about them.

"I love you," you gasp, the desperation clear as ever. "I love you so much, I love you—Aaron, oh—"

He groaned against your clit, his tongue pressing hard as though your words were the fuel he needed to pull you apart completely. His finger curled again, hitting that spot that made you vision blur. His eyes flicked up, and you could tell he knew exactly what was happening. He always knew.

"I know, angel," he murmured, his voice muffled against your skin. "Now show me just how much."

Your orgasm hit you with staggering intensity, a wave of heat and pleasure crashing through you that left every inch of your body trembling. Your breath came in uneven, stuttering gasps as his name spilled from your lips, over and over, like a mantra you couldn’t stop repeating.

"That's my girl," Aaron murmured, his lips brushing against your sensitive skin as his finger worked you through the waves.

His lips pressed on last kiss to your thigh before he straightened, his hands immediately wrapping around your waist like he predicted you'd collapse without him. As soon as he lifted you, you clung to him like your life depended on it (and in that moment you were sure it did), your arms winding around his neck.

Everything felt distant, like you were floating somewhere above yourself. Your head rested limply on his shoulder, your lips brushing against the side of his neck. Your fingers curled weakly against the fabric of his shirt, and for a fleeting moment, you weren’t even sure your body had substance anymore—you felt soft, boneless, entirely his.

Aaron tapped the back of your thigh gently. "Come on, sweetheart, up."

You tried—really, you did—but your body wasn't cooperating. Your legs dangled uselessly, and you let out a soft, half-laugh, half-whisper. "Can't."

He huffed a quiet laugh. 

"Hopeless," he teased. He hoisted you up before you could process it, his shoulder pressing into your stomach as he flipped you over it. A surprised squeak escaped you, but his hand was already bracing your thigh as he started up the stairs. "I guess I'll just have to do all the work, as usual."

"You're so strong," you mumbled dreamily, your head lolling against his shoulder. "Like... disgustingly strong. It’s so hot."

Aaron laughed, his hand smacking your ass. "Keep talking like that, sweetheart and I'll start using you for my next workout routine. And I guarantee it'll be something you'll feel tomorrow."

"Mr. Hotchner!" you gasped, your voice half-indignant and half-giggling. "And you act like I’m the inappropriate one in this relationship!"

Aaron chuckled, shaking his head as he carried you into the bedroom. He lowered you down, tossing you onto the bed just hard enough to make you bounce lightly against the mattress. You let out a soft laugh, body sinking into the covers as you looked up at him. 

“The difference is, I have the good sense not to say things like that on speakerphone.”

You let out a small laugh, raising your eyebrows. “And you should have the good sense not to trust me on speakerphone. Really, Aaron, rookie move.”

He stood tall at the edge of the bed, his fingers slowly loosening the top button of his shirt as he tilted his head. "“That’s fine. We’ll call it even—after you make good on that promise."

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[no-144444]

abu dhabi- o.piastri

summary: your first season as an f1 driver doesn't start the best, and you quickly realise McLaren doesn't like women very much. On top of that, your race engineer is as smug as the rest of them, and you have to deal with him all the time.

pairing: race engineer! oscar piastri x f1driver! fem! reader

warnings: lots of misogyny, lando is an asshole in this, illusions to ed behaviour, reader is not in a good head space, all of mclaren is super sexist, mentions of crashes and injuries. (THIS CHAPTER IS 18+ PIV SMUT)

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six | part seven

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Abu Dhabi. World Drivers Champion. World Constructors Champions.

Holy shit. 

All those years of hard work, of giving up being a child, of giving up having friends or family. You’d done it. You were a winner. 

You jumped out of the car and ran straight to Oscar, jumping in his arms. He caught you (of course) and cheered with you. 

“You fucking did it!” he smiled, pulling your helmet off. “You did it!” 

Every emotion flooded through you, but one in particular stood out; gratefulness. 

You were grateful for Oscar, for how he treated you, for who he was. He was there for you through everything, he helped you whenever he could, and while yes, you had a rough start, in the end you couldn’t imagine F1 without Oscar in it. 

“Thank you, Osc, for everything,” you smiled, hugging him close. 

“Anytime. Whenever. Always,” he nodded. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

He was drunk as fuck, but he was still watching you as you chatted with various team members. 

“You’re fucked, aren’t you?” Lando chuckled, joining his side. 

Oscar rolled his eyes. “I’m drunk, yes.”

“No. You’re fucked for her,” Lando pointed twoards you. Perfect, unreachable, you. 

“Yes,” he nodded, frowning. “I’m fucked for her.”

“It’s pretty clear.”

“I know it is,” Oscar scoffed. “Thanks for Baku, by the way.”

Lando sighed. “Look, I’ve said a lot of shit this season that I didn’t mean, and I’m sorry I was a dick to the two of you. It wasn’t right and I do feel bad about it. So, I’m sorry.”

“Thank you, but that doesn’t solve the fact that she’s being this mysterious weirdo and acting really into me and then really not,” Oscar whined. 

“She’s a very broken person-”

“You think?” Oscar rolled his eyes. “You’re not exactly giving me much hope right now.”

Lando laughed at his drunk state. “Just talk to her,” he offered. “She listens to you no matter what.”

Oscar stared at him, then nodded. “Good idea!” he announced (a little too loud as it drew the attention of a few people around the two of them), and looked at you. But you weren’t there. Oscar frowned again. 

“You’ll find her before the end of the night, I’m sure you will,” Lando clapped a hand on his shoulder and passed him a bottle of water to sober him up. “Good luck.”

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

Time passed and while Oscar was sobering up, he was still very tipsy. You were much the same and ended up bumping into him in the hallways of the hotel. 

That’s how you ended up in his hotel room. 

His lips pressed against yours, and it was all tongue and teeth. You pulled at his shirt and trousers, he pulled off your dress once you’d let him, and he was met with a mouth-watering sight. He latched hsi lips to yours again, and slowly backed you onto his bed. You froze as your back hit the mattress. 

“Is everything okay?” he asked, pulling back. He looked a little bit silly with your lipstick smudged all over your face, but you somehow held in your laughter to shake your head. You sat up against his headboard, bringing your knees to your chest as you took a deep breath. 

“I’ve never… done this before,” you admitted. His eyes widened and he did everything in his power to stop his jaw from dropping. That couldn’t be true, could it? But you were so… so you. 

“That’s alright,” he smiled. “We can take it slow,” he offered. “Or not at all.”

“No,” you shook your head. “I want to do it.”

He smiled. “Alright then,” and reached a hand out to take yours. “We’ll take everything at your pace, yeah?”

You nodded. Somewhere in your drunk and lust-filled haze, you knew you and Oscar were crossing a line, but you didn’t exactly care at that moment in time. 

He pressed his lips to your again, you underneath him. “Is this alright?” he asked through kisses, his left hand gently making its way into your underwear. His voice was deep, deeper than you’d ever heard it. It was hot. He was hot. You nodded, pulling him down to kiss him more. You loved kissing him, so gentle, yet passionate. 

The second his fingers made contact with your clit, your brain short-circuited. You let out a moan into his mouth as he started with soft circles, gently touching you, testing the waters. If the way you were writhing beneath him was any indication, he was doing a good job. “Feels good?”

“Yes,” you whined, closing your eyes as he sped up his movements. “So good.”

“So wet baby,” he huffed. “So perfect for me.” 

You involuntarily whined at his words, grabbing his right arm to try and steady yourself.

“You’re doing great baby, all good,” he whispered. “You just focus on how you feel.”

You nodded, following his instructions, feeling everything he was doing to you. It was maddening, the soft circles, the way he spread you out for himself, his voice, everything. 

Slowly, he pushed a finger in and you groaned. “Osc.”

“I know baby, so tight, doing so well,” he smiled, pressing kisses to your neck. “Jesus Christ,” he rasped out. 

“I want you,” you whispered, getting restless. “Please Osc, I want you.”

He genuinely didn’t know how long he would last if you kept moaning the way you were, and how your nails were digging into his bicep. He’d never guessed he’d be into being scratched, but it felt good. Anything with you felt good. “Okay, I’m going to take these off now then, is that alright?” 

You nodded. “Yes.”

He stood at the edge of the bed, and slowly pulled your underwear off and his mouth actually watered as you pulled off your bra. Fuck. How was he going to get through this without cumming in his pants? He quickly pulled off his underwear and grabbed one of the complimentary condoms the hotel had in every room (he’d chuckled at it originally, mentally joking about how he’d never use it, how wrong he was). He caught a glimpse of your face, your jaw was dropped. 

“What?” he questioned. 

“You’re huge,” you admitted. He smirked. Ego = boosted.  

“I’m going to push in slow, alright?” he told you, and you nodded. “You sure you’re alright?”

“I am, are you?” you asked, taking his hand. 

He smiled. “Better than alright.” 

And he slowly pushed in. He was huge, filling you so much so you thought you could feel it in your lungs for a moment, after a moment to get used to the stretch, he started moving, and god, it was euphoria. Why had you never had sex before? Why had you never fucked Oscar before? He was so sweet, so perfect, so… him. 

“You doing alright?” he asked, listening to the way you whined for him. 

“Perfect,” you said, breathless, right before a particularly hard thrust pulled another moan out of you. His lips lowered to your neck as his thumb started gently rubbing over your clit, making you writhe beneath him. 

“Gotta stay a bit more still baby,” he grunted, placing his other hand on your stomach, holding you down. Your hands went to run up and down his back, moaning into his shoulder as the sensation built, hot and heavy in your stomach. “Let go whenever you’re ready, I want you to cum for me.” 

Fuck he was hot. Like, really hot. He changed the angle, somehow getting deeper than before, and you almost screamed. He chuckled, kissing you again. “Osc, I-I’m going to cum-”

“Cum for me, please baby, cum all over my cock,” he had a filthy mouth. As he picked up the pace, so did his grunts and small whines, they were music to your ears, making you tighten around him. “Come on baby, all over my cock.” 

And you did. You came with a violent shake and a loud moan, him coming just after you. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

You’d fallen asleep in his bed after he’d cleaned you up, and while waking up at 4am with a hangover was never fun, it did give you adequate time to sneak out of his hotel room and catastrophize the fact that you’d slept with your best friend / the only person you had who truly supported and (maybe) loved you. 

What the fuck had you done? 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

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[typicalopposite]

tongue tied

thank you @nine-one-wanton for the title 😂🫶

BuckTommy | E (eh.. maybe M+) | 4859 words

also on ao3!

Mortification… 

That still isn’t a strong enough emotion to describe what Buck is feeling at the moment. 

He glances down at Tommy and asks if he’s still okay. All Tommy can do is blink in response; once for yes, twice for no. Pretty much any movement causes them both pain… and the humiliation is bad enough without them being overly sore as well. 

Tommy slides a gentle hand over Bucks thigh, doing his best to smile up at him. He inhales deeply through his nose and blows it back out, adjusting how he’s sitting on his legs, having to keep himself up high enough so he doesn't accidentally tug on the rings— tangled together and seemingly inseparable. 

There’s a knock at the loft’s door, and Buck hears Bobby’s voice yell out to him. He looks down at Tommy and sighs. 

This was definitely not how the team was supposed to learn they made up.

****

(Two months earlier) 

Tommy sat in a small chair, waiting his turn at the tattoo and piercing parlor. It had been years since Tommy had worn his little hoop earrings in his ears. Yet when he pushed the curved bar through the hole— thinking maybe they would be closed up and he’d have to force them— they just slipped right in. 

He considered getting a second hole, maybe. A nose ring. A belly button ring… 

Was he being dramatic— I want to feel something beyond the heartache I have caused for myself… so I’m going to go have a needle jabbed through some part of my body— maybe… He would agree, too, that maybe it was a little juvenile… a little petty even, to ultimately settle on a piercing Ev- no… Buck had shown so much interest in. He’d talked about having blowjobs from girls with tongue rings in his “Buck 1.0 days” (whatever that means); he said they were amazing. 

So now Tommy would have one, too… and he could give whoever the next guy he hooked up with amazing blow jobs. Take that memory of Buck that just wouldn’t leave! (in reality he knew he was fooling himself… He doubted there would ever be a next guy for him… Buck, however, would probably be getting plenty of better head from people way better than Tommy— whose knees don’t creak and ache after just a few short minutes on them, and who’s jaw hadn’t been shattered and wired shut in his teens so he can only hold it open for so long before it locks up.) 

He huffed angrily at the thought of someone else with Buck’s— with Evan's dick sitting heavy on their tongue; thrusting in and out, hitting the back of their throat. Someone else swallowing down every drop of his—

“Sir…” the receptionist said, thankfully interrupting his train of thought before he snapped his phone in half. “You’re up.” Tommy cleared his throat and thanked her, rubbing a hand over the heat climbing up his neck from embarrassment. 

He plopped down on the client chair and told the piercer what he wanted. He opted for the clear bar, and he had taken a (much needed) week off work; hopefully it would be healed by then. The woman gave him the instructions: sit up straight, stick out your tongue, please don’t try to grab my wrist. “People do that?” Tommy asked, around the clamp on his tongue, and she gave him an exhausted look. Sorry… he thought but didn’t say. 

He stuck his tongue out at himself in the bathroom mirror that night. It was swollen and very sore— it definitely didn’t make him feel better, but hey he’d always wanted to do something drastic. A tongue ring at forty counted… right? Yeah, it counted. He cleaned the piercing and went to bed. 

****

(One month earlier)

Buck wasn’t sure if this was just some Buck 1.0.2 phase or a very emotional based impulsive (probably stupid) decision resulting from his still broken heart. 

Still he was already there and had already put a deposit down; he might as well, right? 

He had come to the parlor alone, because… well, what would anyone he knows say about him doing something like this. Maybe if it was something simple like an ear piercing… or hell, even a tongue piercing. But this— this was not something his pseudo siblings or father figure would be on board tagging along to. Eddie was in El Paso… and he definitely wasn’t about to ask Maddie along.

The receptionist smiled at him, had him sign in, and told him to take a seat. 

He was early… Perhaps that had been a bad idea. His knee began to bounce and he fiddled with his fingers anxiously, staring around the parlor at the other clients ahead of him. Some laid back in the chairs getting tattooed— he should have just gotten another tattoo; what was he thinking— others getting any and every part of their body pierced. Most people were quiet. One lady in the back let out a scream so blood curdling Buck was about to get up and leave but—

“Sir! You're up!” 

Buck followed the piercer into one of the private rooms. The man was quiet and looked like he might bite Buck’s head off if given the chance. He instructed Buck to lower his pants, his boxers, and sit down on the pad covered seat. He did as he was told, and the seat was tilted back, putting him on full display thanks to the cold room. Why was he even doing this? Just because Tommy had said some guy he talked to before they even knew each other said he might get one? Was Buck really that shallow— that jealous?! 

“Alright, man… here we go.”

This was a bad idea. 

This was a bad idea.. 

WHAT THE FUCK WAS HE THINKING!?! 

This was so stupid! So bad! Such an impulsive idea! 

“And done!” 

Buck blinked once… twice… and looked down towards where the man was already slipping his gloves off. He pulled his dick up towards his stomach so he could see the little silver hoop hooked through his frenulum. “Oh,” he said, thanked the guy, paid and went home. 

****

(Two days earlier) 

Tommy played with the flat top of his tongue ring; he slid it back and forth over his teeth, he pushed the bar out enough to bite down on, all while he tapped on his steering wheel to the beat of a song playing on the radio. He was nervous. 

And the thing was… he shouldn’t be. 

He was a big brave grown man— capable of doing big brave grown man things… like to have drinks with an ex, whom he’s very much not over. He would be fine. 

Except the only spot available was directly beside the Jeep. 

“Fucking mother fucker.” Tommy grumbled out loud and turned into the spot hoping that maybe he wouldn’t be— 

He was still sitting in the driver seat. 

Cock sucking, bitch ass… What kind of god damned luck?!? How could he come to his senses about the meeting and run away now? 

He sighed and put the truck in park, then turned to look at him. It was the very first time he’d laid eyes on the man— beyond the pictures and videos he couldn’t bring himself to delete from his phone— since he walked out of the loft. 

Evan.

Or… Buck, since he’d decided to go that route and really drive the break up home. 

“H- Hey…” Buck said as soon as the both were out of their vehicles. “Thanks for — for the invite.” 

Tommy stuffed his hand down in his pockets, and chewed on the flat top to his tongue ring. “Of course,” he finally said. “I, uh… I felt like we really needed to talk about…”

“Everything?” Buck finished. 

“Yeah,” Tommy nodded along. “Everything.” 

“Okay… well for starters—” Buck wasted no time jumping right in. “Don’t ever call me Buck again.” He stared at Tommy so seriously before his lips twitched up a bit and he added, “please.”

“Noted,” Tommy said and there was a pause like he was waiting for— “Evan…” Tommy added and Evan fully smiled at that; he seemed relieved. “Okay, what else.” 

Evan stepped towards him. Tommy had the slightest urge to step back, but even more of one to move closer— to reach out and grab him and cling like his life depended on it. Evan reached for him first. “Don’t ever make a decision like that for me again.” Tommy waited, his eyes searching Evan’s… trying to say without saying how sorry he was. Finally Evan leaned in and gently pressed his lips to Tommy’s. “If I had needed more time to figure myself out… if I wasn’t sure about this— that you were what I wanted. I wouldn’t have just strung you along until I did… okay?” 

“Okay.” Tommy wanted to say more. He thought, maybe, he should say more… but his voice was lodged somewhere deep in his throat and all he could focus on was how his lips were tingling from that kiss. Evan, like a damn mind reader, took the moment to lean back in, deepening the kiss and wasting no time slipping his tongue into Tommy’s mouth. He noticed almost immediately. 

“You got a tongue piercing?!” 

“I— uh, yeah…” 

Evan’s eyes lit up mischievously… his breathing hitches then speeds up… he leaned in for another kiss.

****

(One hour earlier)

Buck had been very mature about the fact Tommy now had a tongue ring. In fact… he was so mature about it, that he didn’t suggest they forget the drinks, and their plans to actually talk like level headed adults do… In fact, after just one more kiss— one more quick swipe of his tongue over the flat top of the bar— he pulled away from Tommy completely; minus their hands, which Evan promptly laced together as they walked into the bar. 

And they talked. 

They actually talked.

They opened up— more than he’d expected them to.

They cried. They laughed. They left a few hours later and were officially back together.

Buck remained mature, and didn’t offer (beg, plead, or bargain) to follow Tommy back to his place, or bring him back to the loft. He allowed the night to end with them parting ways, but with the promise there would be a next time— and plenty of times after that—  So Buck was fine with going home alone. 

But when Tommy arrived at the loft, a bottle of wine in hand, his curls styled nicely, and wearing the cologne that he knew Buck loved… the maturity went out the window. He tugged him in by the collar and crashed their lips together. Buck had asked him to put a regular bar in, one with the bigger metal ball. Tommy had laughed and made a bitchy little joke but as Buck’s tongue passed over the piercing he let his lips curl up into a pleased smirk to find Tommy had done as he’d asked. 

They wasted no time; Tommy’s fingers ran along the hem of Buck’s shirt while Buck hurriedly pushed Tommy’s button-down off of his shoulders. “There’s something you should know…” Buck says as they nearly tripped over each other getting up the stairs, pieces of their outfits falling off every couple steps. He leans in close to Tommy’s ear and whispers, “I got something pierced too…” then he falls back onto the bed, pants and boxers already gone and his cock standing straight up like it’s showing it’s new accessory off. 

Tommy’s eyes widen. His brows fly all the way up to his hairline. He crawls onto the bed and takes Buck in his hand, tilting him back to look at the piercing better. “It’s healed, right?” Buck nearly gives himself whiplash nodding. Tommy leans in and flicks the tip of his tongue over the hoop— over the little piece of skin it’s going through— and Buck sucks in a sharp breath. “Good?” Tommy asks. 

“Amazing!” 

“Okay, great…” Tommy says, then goes back to licking at the piercing and around the head, and down the shaft. All the while Buck is moaning and squirming. It shouldn’t be so over-stimulative but it’s been so long… he hasn’t— not like this— not since Tommy. “Missed you; missed this…” Tommy says between licking down Buck’s cock and sucking the tip into his mouth, which only seems to make it so much more sensitive. 

Buck’s toes curl as Tommy takes him all the way down. And, God, how he has missed that. Buck whimpers and lets his hands move up into Tommy’s curls; messing them up, sure, but he doesn’t care. Tommy bobs his head, making sure to flatten his tongue and let the ball rub over Buck with every slide down and back up, and it feels just as amazing as Buck remembered— it feels even better, actually. 

Tommy moves Buck’s legs further apart so he can settle on the bed more. He flicks his eyes up to meet Buck’s and smiles around his cock, lining himself up so the ball goes over the hoop. It’s— well it’s mind blowing…

…at first. 

Tommy gets a little too into it. 

Probably due to the completely wanton noises pouring out of Buck’s mouth. He slides down all the way to the bottom, presses his tongue against the underside so the ball is pressed into the tender skin and starts to slide back up. He reaches the hoop… and somehow the ball just pops through it. 

Buck thinks he’s really just thankful Tommy caught the mishap immediately… without trying to pull off— so fucking thankful. 

“Uhh…” is all Tommy can manage. He holds himself up with one arm and brings the other up to try to get a finger in his mouth, to the where they are quite literally linked together. He can’t. 

And just like that… Buck’s pride in his size disappears. 

****

Tommy tries to move his tongue, ever so gently so he doesn't tug at the ring, but it’s useless. He wants to cry. He looks up at Evan… who is looking down at him… and looks terrified, and he can’t shake his head so he just sighs. “You have got to be joking… Tommy, what do we do?!” 

Tommy knows what they have to do… and he knows Evan knows what they have to do. 

“We can’t! Tommy, Maddie is at work! What if she takes the call?” He waits for a second like he’s expecting Tommy to answer, he can only blink back. “A- And I’m in the 118’s district… oh my god…” Now Evan looks ready to cry, and Tommy can’t even properly hold him about it. He runs his hand up Evan’s side, hoping it does something to soothe him. “Maybe if… if I can just get soft…” he suggests. Tommy shrugs, he doubts it but he doesn’t blame Evan for not wanting to call… this absolute disaster… in. 

So they wait. 

And wait.

And wait…

Drool starts to pool in Tommy’s mouth and he tries to swallow it as carefully as he can. His throat spasms, and Evan hisses, and Tommy makes a wounded noise by means of apologizing. To make matters worse, not that Evan’s erection had gone down much sitting in Tommy’s mouth… but the tightening of his throat from swallowing definitely didn’t help. They are doomed, he fears.

He looks up at Evan and tries to lighten the mood with a smile, and Evan manages to smile back, before dropping his head to his pillow and letting out a pitiful sob. 

Tommy knows they can’t sit here forever. He taps Evan’s leg and points to Evan’s pants that are the closest to the bed. Carefully they shimmy together, over to the edge, until Tommy slides off the bed, stretching out his leg to pull the pants over to him. He sits himself on his legs and pulls out the phone. Evan still seems hesitant so Tommy grunts around him and puts the phone in his hand. 

“Okay, fine.” 

Thank you, Tommy thinks and sighs. He slowly moves his tongue, still trying to find a way to pop the ball back through the hoop, but it’s just no use. He brings an arm up and uses it to prop up his head, and listens as Evan types in the dreaded numbers. 

He puts it on speaker and rests his body back on his free arm. “9-1-1 what is the location of your emergency…” Tommy watches Evan inhale deep and let out a long drawn out sigh. He gives his address, and immediately the dispatcher gasps. “Buck?” 

“Hey Josh…” 

****

“What's going on, are you okay?” Josh asks, eyes flicking up to look at Maddie who is in the middle of her own call and hasn’t yet heard her brother's name. 

“Well… define okay.” 

“Do you need medical assistance? I can send your team—”

“No!” Josh’s mouth snaps shut at the urgency in Buck’s voice. “Not— Not them… and Josh… please don’t tell Maddie you’re talking to me.” 

Josh glances back up at Maddie, and sighs. “Okay…” he says slowly; quizzically. “So what’s going on?” 

“Me and Tommy are stuck… together.” Josh waits for more, but his first panicked thought is that there has been some accident at Buck’s loft. 

“A- Are you— either of you hurt?” 

“Not… exactly. Just stuck.” 

“Like… in the elevator?” Josh pries, since Buck is giving him very little information. 

“I wish…” Buck groans, and Josh hears a muffled snort. “No, we're inside my apartment.” 

Josh tries to run through where they could be stuck in the small loft… He comes up with nothing, And Buck has gone silent. “Okay, look… I have no idea what’s going on, or how to help you, so I’m going to need you to give me a little more details beyond just ‘We’re stuck’.” 

Nothing— Nothing!!— could have prepared Josh for what Buck just blurts out next. 

“Tommy’s tongue ring is stuck through my dick ring…” 

Of course that’s the moment Maddie decides to look up at him. Her brows furrow and she mouths what’s wrong? Josh is pretty sure he resembles a deer in headlights, and he might have forgotten how to speak beyond a startled, “Oh…”

There’s a pause and Buck speedruns Josh through a quick explanation of what has happened, that Josh can only mmhmm back too, biting his lips between his teeth to stop them from curling upward and trying to figure out exactly how to word this in the notes to whoever he sends to… help. (33 and 40 year old males. No serious injuries. Unable to come to the door… prepare to be scandalized— he doesn’t add that last part)

Maddie is still just staring at him with a progressively getting more worried look. Finally she takes her earpiece off and starts towards him. Shit… he thinks, then quickly sends the 133 with a final note that an ambulance will possibly be needed. “What’s going on, Josh…” Maddie asks, looking at his screen. She immediately recognizes Buck’s address, gasps and grabs Josh's earpiece. “Buck?! Buck, are you okay? Are you hurt?” 

Josh watches the voice recorder from the call and it doesn’t move. “M- Maddie listen…” he tries, and reaches for the earpiece back; Maddie slaps his hand in return. 

Her eyes frantically move over the screen, furrowing as she tries to decipher what the notes could mean. She comes to the unit responding, and scoffs. “Why would you send the 133, Josh… the 118 is closer!” And Josh can do no more than run a hand down his face, and continue to bite back the laugh that has been threatening to break free since Buck explained the actual situation. “Buck I’m sending the 118 to you… everything’s going to be okay.” Her mouth pulls down into a worried frown. “Are you there? Can you please say something…” 

****

“Th- Thanks Mads…” is all Buck can think to say. 

Tommy’s eyes widen, and he finds Buck's hand to hold it. 

“What’s going on…” Maddie continues to press. “Is— is Tommy with you? Is he hurt? Buck, do I need to go there?”

“Please, no!” Buck cries out. “I’m… fine. It’s fine. We’re— we’re fine. R- Right Tommy?” He squeezes his eyes shut realizing Tommy can’t agree. 

He does manage a garbled “Uh huh,” though… (To which Buck hears Josh snort then quickly clear his throat.) 

“I, uh… I’m gonna hang up now…” Buck says, then before Madie can say anything he adds, “I swear I’m— we’re really okay. I promise.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yeah, I— I’m sure…” he tells her, hangs up and throws his head back with a loud groan. Tommy sighs around him and moves the hand propping up his head and rubs at his jaw, reminding Buck of the reason Tommy never drags out his blowjobs. “Fuck! Tommy your jaw,” he says, and moves Tommy’s hand to rub over the spot himself. “A- and your knees have to be killing you!” Tommy shrugs and leans his face into Buck’s hand. “Is this at least helping,” he asks; Tommy cocks a brow, and his lips curl up into a smirk. “Oh my god… blink once for yes twice for no,” he groans, laughing only when Tommy blinks once. 

Which brings them back to the present. Bobby yells that they are coming in and the only silver lining is that Bobby has a key so they don’t have to break his door in. Something taps Buck’s leg and it’s his phone that Tommy has typed up a message on. 

pocket knife. cut off my tongue. I’ll go out the window.

That startles a laugh out of Buck… which is immediately followed by a pained hiss from them both. The front door opens and Buck groans. “Up here…” he says, and they both listen as the entire team— hell it sounds like the entire station— files in. 

Tommy whimpers when Chimney calls out, jokingly asking if Buck’s decent, and grabs the blanket to pull over his head. 

“Alright Buck what’s… going… on…” Bobby says, first to get up the stairs— his worried look melts away and is replaced by something akin to absolute horror, which Buck 100% gets. 

“What on earth…” Hen gawks as she comes up behind Bobby. 

Buck feels like his face is about to catch on fire, and Tommy hasn’t moved since covering his head— so he has either convinced himself if he doesn’t move they can’t see him… or he has died. 

“Is that Tommy?!” Chimney blurts out, looking around Hen and Bobby, who both slowly turn and look back at him.

Chimney shrugs. “What? I can appreciate nice features without it meaning anything, thank you very much.” He moves past her and gestures at Tommy’s backside. “And when you got it you got it…” Tommy makes a choked off noise— so, at least that means he’s not dead… 

“Wait so is it really Tommy?” Ravi calls from the bottom of the stairs. Buck doesn’t answer… which is enough of an answer in and of itself. 

Bobby turns back to Buck, rolling his eyes at the others. He sighs. “Okay, what exactly is going on here, Buck.” 

Before he can even think up a decent answer, Tommy twitches, stiffens and then pulls his hand up to scratch at his nose. He grunts, and takes a deep breath, and Buck watches in horror as it finally clicks what exactly Tommy is doing under the blanket. “This has got to be a prank,” Hen says, pulling off her glasses and covering her eyes. “Buck… tell me this is a prank.” 

Tommy continues to squirm and finally while holding his nose to suppress it, he sneezes. Buck yelps and Tommy mumbles incoherent apologies. The loft falls completely quiet; all eyes are now on him, waiting for an explanation. 

His phone rings first, and he expects it to be Maddie… but it’s Eddie— and he doesn’t need to deal with that— so he sends it to voicemail. 

Then Tommy’s phone starts to vibrate down stairs. “Ignore it,” Buck instructs when Ravi asks if he wants it brought up to them. 

About a second after it stops, Chimney's phone rings and he answers without hesitation, putting it on FaceTime.

“Oh… oh my god!” Eddie gasps. “You two didn’t…” he sounds like he’s crying and sucks in a breath. “You two idiots didn’t… did you?!” Buck glares at Chimney, but he is unfazed, turning the camera for Eddie to see them. “You did!” 

“I’m so lost,” Chimney says, looking at Bobby.

Hen is still covering her face and shaking her head. 

“These two—”

“Eddie…” Buck pleads— but really… What's the use in hiding details? “Whatever…” he groans and turns his eyes to the ceiling, and Eddie shares what he knows.

And apparently, he knows everything. 

So Buck wasn’t the only one who went to Eddie about his impulse body modification. Tommy had told him too— he texted Eddie after learning of his move to El Paso, and it just slid its way into the conversation. 

“How did you even find out about this?” Buck groans.

“Josh told me.” 

“Oh, but he couldn’t tell us so we knew what we were about to walk in on…” Hen says bitterly. 

“And since when do you and Josh talk?” Buck adds. 

“That is my business,” Eddie quips back. “You all  have fun with… yours.” He wiggles his fingers at them, laughs again, and ends the call. 

Chimney and Hen give each other strained looks, both clearly trying to hold it together. Bobby takes a deep breath, resting his hands on his hips and stares down at Buck. “Okay well we— we need to get you two… separated—” His lips tremble and he tries to stop the laugh but it bubbles out anyway. That's all the motive Hen and Chimney need to both double over. Even Ravi is laughing down stairs. 

Tommy makes a pained noise and Buck knows he has to be hurting from sitting like this for so long. “Yeah, yeah… laugh it up. Can we please figure out how to actually do that?” 

“Well we have to see what we’re dealing with first,” Hen says, grabbing the blanket without warning and lifting it up. “Oh my god…” she nearly chokes, and has to walk down stairs to compose herself. 

Yeah mortification was definitely not a strong enough word. 

It only takes the team five minutes to get them separated— Buck is sure it will take a lifetime to live it down. 

****

“Are you sure you don’t want to go in and get checked out?” Bobby asks; Tommy just shakes his head and puts his hand over Evan’s, where he is holding a frozen bag of peas against his jaw. “Alright,” he gives them both a smile— it looks more uncomfortable than when he was given the medal of valor at the ceremony. “You, uh— you two…” he looks between Tommy and Evan. “Well, I’m glad you… worked things out.” 

“That’s one way to describe what happened here tonight,” Chimney says, smiling smugly at the both of them.

Hen comes up beside Tommy and lays a hand on his shoulder. “I think it’s safe to say you can definitely keep up.” Tommy slowly lifts his eyes to her and she can’t hold back the laughter. “Maybe a little too well— you might wanna slow down actually.” 

“Uhm, what— what does that mean?” Evan leans in and asks; again… Tommy just shakes his head. 

Ravi hands Evan the little baggie the two rings were put in once they were removed. He doesn’t say anything, and just leaves. He pulls the door shut behind him, and then they are left alone, embarrassed, and sore in their respective affected areas. 

Evan holds the bag up and sighs. “That was… something.” 

“Yeah…” Tommy laughs, finally feeling like he can move his jaw again without it popping. “Next time, maybe we don’t go with the ball and hoop combo. 

“N- Next time?” Evan furrows his brow but his lips are already curling up at the corners. 

Tommy shrugs and grabs Evan’s hand pulling it to his lips. “If I have learned anything lately… it’s the importance of giving things another chance…” 

Evan’s smile widens. “Wow. That was— just wow...” he laughs and pulls Tommy into a kiss; he winces when just the slight movement hurts. “I’m sorry about your jaw, and your knees.” 

“I’m sorry about your… frenulum,” Tommy replies and Evan snorts. “Now I can’t finish what I started…” 

They both pout at that… for just a moment. “Yeah, b- but… my jaw doesn’t hurt,” Evan says with a suggestive smirk. “And your dick doesn’t hurt…” He bites his lip and tugs on Tommy’s hand to stand him up.

“This is true…” Tommy states. 

“So maybe we can finish what we started after all…” Evan leans in and brushes his lips over Tommy’s then turns and heads for the stairs, Tommy right behind him, and the silver hoop and tongue ring left behind on the table for next time. 

[the-witty-pen-name]

The Aftermath

Eddie Munson x F!Reader

Word Count: 7k

Synopsis: In the aftermath of Eddie’s death, you visit Wayne and you grieve Eddie together. You admit to him you never got to tell Eddie how you feel, but unbeknownst to you, Eddie hears your confession and is trying to make his way back home to you from the Upside Down. 

Warnings: heavy angst; grief; depression; mention of character death; smut (18+ minors dni); oral (m receiving); piv/unprotected sex; dirty talk; sub/sort of switch!eddie; smoking

A/N: I wanna shout out @punkrockmlchael @keeryhours @losingmygrasponreality and @munsonsmixtapes y'all are great- thank you for letting me talk to y'all about this fic <3

Comments and reblogs are always appreciated! And requests are currently open :)

Everything still didn’t feel real. As the dust settles and Hawkins begins to pick up the pieces, you still feel like you’re stuck underwater. He’s gone- and everyone around you celebrates like they're better off for it. People rise from the ashes, content to keep the world turning- so much progress yet you are completely paralyzed. And it feels like no one else cares. 

They do care. They’re just happy. Relieved to be rid of the devil worshiping, fork tongued, serial killer that they fabricated and made the villain of this nightmare. They celebrate, and embrace, treating the aftermath like an uplifting time. You’re stuck- paralyzed by the immense pain that sits deep in your chest. It weighs you down, and you wished for anything but this. 

You wished for Eddie, because he’s the one person who’d pull you out of this when you’d spiral. You can’t feel grounded because your rock is gone. Your heart hangs so heavy with regret as you mourn your best friend and the love of your life. And you never got to tell him. 

As Jason and his friends created a witch hunt, everyone’s priority was to keep Eddie safe- there  \were so many times you felt like you should’ve said something. Your inner voice yelling at you to do anything- something before it was too late. You chickened out every time, petrified of rejection and worried you’d ruin what you had more than it had already been threatened. 

Now you don’t know how to feel anything at all. He’s just gone. And the rest of the town moves on. And you can hardly breathe, covered with dust as you stay exactly where you were. You weren’t there at the end, and you wish you’d had. To be with him, comfort him, make him know just how much he means. You’re angry you didn’t stick up for yourself when the group suggested you didn’t follow them. You’re angry you let Eddie convince you to stay behind when they traveled into the Upside Down. You should have been there. 

So now, like a body possessed, you go through the motions to get by with hardly living. You’re a shell, floating aimlessly from one thing to the next but you aren’t there. Because Eddie isn’t there. You miss him so much your brain can’t handle the amount of grief that’s overtaking you. You feel consumed by such an immense sadness just all the time. 

Dustin was the first person you saw, and you both held each other as you both wailed. He didn’t have to say anything, you instinctively knew. Both of you, tangled up in pain, holding on to the last bit of him you both had in that moment- each other. You both crumbled , and you cried so hard until your bodies exhausted themselves. 

Compelled to just make yourself feel anything, sick of the numbness- just wanting to expel the dark cloud sitting inside you, you find the strength to make your way to the Munson trailer, just hoping Wayne would be there. You knew Wayne needed you, and you needed him. You needed Wayne in your life- the father figure that stepped up for Eddie, but also for you. 

When Wayne opens the door, you notice he looks completely destroyed. His eyes, like yours, are bloodshot from tears and a man who you once thought was the tallest man in the world, looks so very small. The same small cloud that has dwelled in you since he died, also festered and plagued Wayne. 

The second he opens the door, you need a hug. Suddenly, you feel like a little kid again, safer now that Wayne is around. In his embrace, you feel heard, without needing to speak. You know he’s feeling the same pain, the same loss, and he’s the only person in the whole world that you need to be near right now. You just pray that he lets you in.

“He didn’t do it,” you sob, clinging to Wayne’s flannel shirt. He rubs your back comfortingly. 

“I know he didn’t,” he soothes you, but you can still hear that he’s crying as well. 

Wayne holds you and it gives him some solace for the first time in weeks. He’s relieved that you’ve come back to visit. You're the first of Eddie’s friends to make the journey over. But, of course you were. 

Once you manage to pull yourself somewhat together, you pull away from the hug. “I wanted to know if I could still come visit,” you ask meekly, desperate to encase yourself back into Eddie’s world. Wayne nods, hugging you again, stroking your head to comfort you as the tears begin to fall again. 

“I loved him, I love him,” you confess pathetically and Wayne shushes you like a child needing to be comforted. It’s a sound you’re familiar with. There have been many moments in your life where Wayne was the one there to pick up the pieces. Bullies would be mean to both you at school, Eddie and you would run home with tear stained cheeks, and he’d hold you both like how he’s holding you now. 

“I know, kiddo,” he soothed. “I know.” 

“Can- can I go to his room? Just for a minute,” you plead. 

“You can stay as long as you want,” Wayne promises, stepping aside to let you in. 

The trailer hasn’t changed- it’s got that look about it, always. It’s comforting to look around it and just feel him. It sounds so crazy but you swear you can feel Eddie- your senses are just overwhelmed with so much of him after weeks of an extreme emptiness. 

His room is untouched, you can tell Wayne hasn’t been ready to go in. His unmade bed, his dirty laundry, his tapes- everything is exactly as he left it. The bed he won’t crawl back into, the tshirts he won’t wear, the new tape that he’ll never hear- it’s all paused. A room that was once as lively as the boy who lived in it now felt like a time capsule that is the only proof that he was there. 

You sit on his bed, trying to commit it all to your memory. You feel so dizzy, and all you can do is fixate on every detail. Petrified you’ll forget something, which will turn into something else, and then before you know it you’ve lost all of the pieces that make Eddie. 

Laying on his bed, you stare up at the ceiling, you just let yourself sink into your sadness. You feel engulfed by him, his essence. It’s the closest you know you’ll ever get to the real thing again. You burrow into his pillow and blankets and just let yourself become fully cased in, you close your eyes and you can almost pretend he’ll be there when you open your eyes. He’ll be there, sitting on the floor strumming his guitar like he had done a million times before. You swear you can feel him there. 

He’s screaming for you, begging you to hear him. He’s scared and alone and can’t get out. He’s stuck in this limbo. He can see you, he can see everyone- no one knows he’s alive. He’s trying to reach out to you as he stands in his room, only in the Upside Down. His face is messy with grime and tears, his whole body aches. He can’t muster up the strength to run anymore. Seeing you like this though? Worse than anything else he feels like he’s been through. He needed to get back home, but he couldn’t figure out how. 

 He hears a gentle knock on the door, and it feels like a million miles away. Even if it doesn’t matter, he steps aside still trying to talk to you when he watches Wayne walk in. For the first time, Eddie’s speechless. He gives up on his talking for just a moment, he scrambles around his room, looking for any way to send the two of you a sign. 

Wayne takes a seat on the edge of the bed. He rubs your back gently over Eddie’s comforter. He doesn’t want you to think he wants you to leave. Eddie’s looking through the wreckage of his bedroom in the Upside Down, he needs to find his radio. He can see it on top of his dresser in the real world, and he’s trying to find the one there. If he can play something, anything, maybe he has a shot that the two of you will hear it. 

“I called your house, they know you’re with me,” Wayne says soothingly. He can see the blanket move so he knows you nodded. “I was hoping you’d take me up on having dinner here,” he adds. “I’m so used to cooking for two..,” he trails off, not wanting to make you any sadder. He sees the comforter nod again, and he pats your shoulder to make his exit. 

“Did you know?” you ask suddenly, Wayne turning around in the doorway. “Do you think he knew?” You ask, sitting up a little and wiping your eyes. Eddie stops his search and his eyes are just focused on you. 

“Did I know what, sweetheart?” Wayne asks softly. You take a few shaky breaths. 

“Was it obvious..,” you are embarrassed, “Was it obvious that I liked him? I never told him…”

“We didn’t really talk about stuff like that,” he responds. “But, you and Eddie had such a special bond… You meant so much to him, don’t let that be the thing you focus on.”

“I waited and then it was too late,” you sniffle. 

“Eddie loved you more than anything,” Wayne reiterates, and you know it’s true. You just didn’t know in what way. 

Eddie thinks he might be sick. He jumps over a pile of his dirty clothes to kneel on the bed in front of you. He knows you can’t see him, it doesn’t matter. He stares into your eyes even though he knows you aren’t seeing him back. 

“The whole time?” he laughs, tears welling up again, he hits his fist to the mattress. “Of course I liked you, oh my god. I couldn’t have been more obvious! On what planet would I not be completely head over heels in love with you?” He exclaims. His laughter sounds almost delirious- he feels like he’s losing his goddamn mind. “Oh my god, baby, I- Fuck this,” he grumbles. “This is bullshit,” he says, looking around the room again for something to use. “I’m getting back there,” he announces to the void, “I’m getting back there and I swear to god, the first thing after I kiss you- I’m making fun of you for being so stupid to think I wouldn’t like you. Christ, where the fuck is my stereo?” 

His foot kicks something and he curses, but then he laughs triumphantly because he hears static. He uncovers the stereo from under one of his shirts and thankfully it looks salvageable. He sits down, pulling it onto his lap, and messes with the frequency. “Please, please, please,” he mutters over and over again, hoping to get some sort of signal out. Nothing. He tosses it aside, racking his brain trying to remember anything the group told him. “Lights, lights!” he says, scurrying over to the switch on the wall, frantically flicking it on and off. 

The lights in the room suddenly flicker, and your head tilts, looking up at the ceiling light. Your first instinct is to brush it off, the bulb probably just needs to be replaced. The annoyance of the flickering switch is enough to get you out of bed to turn off the light. You walk over to flip the switch to off, and you realize the overhead light is already switched to off. Puzzled, you look over, and see the lamp on Eddie’s bedside table is flickering now too. Then, the hall light flickers, like some electric current is running the length of the house messing with the lights. The lights over the kitchenette start to flicker next, and it makes Wayne jump. 

You follow the light trail, trying to figure out what’s going on. You look to Wayne and he looks just as mystified as you. Eddie, in the meantime, is banging the walls, flipping the switches, trying anything to get your attention. He’s yelling incoherent nonsense, jumping around, hitting things- fuck the monsters, he’s not afraid anymore. He’s not letting an opportunity to let you know that he’s there slip by. 

“Might be the generator acting up,” Wayne muses, explaining the odd sight away. You aren’t convinced, but you don’t know any better. So many parts of the journey, you were left out- you didn’t know about the electromagnetic elements of the Upside Down. You were left out of the loop, Eddie insisting you stay back for your own safety more times than not. You were mad at him still for that, honestly. Eddie knew Jason could’ve used you in some way to get to him. The less you knew, the better he felt. You resented it, knowing you could’ve handled Jason and his goons. It doesn’t matter anymore. 

“You think so?” You mumble, unconvinced. You observe as there seems to be an obvious pattern to the flickering of the lights. It was like someone was running up and down the length of the trailer, messing with the switches. The generator is the easiest answer, and the rational side of you tells you to just let it be. The other side of you, maybe the delusional side- looking for any sort of sign, thinks it’s something. 

“Can I use the phone?” You ask, and Wayne nods. You grab the receiver off of the base and start dialing Dustin’s home phone number. Wayne continues to work on dinner, turning on his portable radio to offer you some privacy as you make a call. 

“Hi Mrs. Henderson,” you say when Dustin’s mother answers. “I understand that it’s dinner time, I’m sorry. I was just hoping Dustin could talk for just a few minutes? I understand, ma’am. Please, just this once? Thank you, ma’am.” 

Dustin sounds confused when he says your name on the other end of the phone. “What’s going on?” He asks, understandably confused. 

“The lights in Eddie’s trailer are going haywire,” you explain, not sure how to explain it to him. “It’s so weird, I don’t know how to describe it. It’s random- but it doesn’t feel that way. It’s just Wayne and I here, but it’s like someone is flipping the switches over and over again.” 

Eddie says a little prayer that Henderson will pick up on the fact that he’s trying to let you guys know he’s there. He watches you intently as you listen to Dustin, and answer his follow-up questions. He watched as you try to hold back a smile, the first one in weeks to Grace your pretty face. 

“Are you sure?” You ask again in disbelief, listening to Dustin’s theory. You’re skeptical, you can’t let yourself believe Eddie might be alive. You couldn’t bear the disappointment. 

“We’ve seen it before,” Dustin says, and you can tell he’s rushing off the phone. “Trust me, let me figure something out. Do you know Morse code?” 

“No,” you answer dejectedly. You also don’t know if Eddie would know any Morse code, but maybe Dustin knew more than you. 

“That’s okay,” Dustin says, you hear him scribbling something down. “See if there’s something you can figure out. A pattern, anything- I got to go. My mom is gonna flip out if I’m not back like now.  I can call you back after dinner- use Eddie’s walkie.” 

Dustin hangs up abruptly and you place the receiver down, dejectedly. You smile towards Wayne and the lights finally settle down. You offer to help and Wayne happily takes you up on the offer. It’s a small space, but the two of you make it work. It’s a nice silence, but it also weighs heavy among you. It shouldn’t be like this. It should be chaotic and messy and loud and he should be here. 

“Remember that one Halloween you took Eddie and I trick or treating, and we both wanted to be Casper,” you reminisce. Wayne offers a deep, throaty chuckle. 

“You both tricked me, I dropped Eddie off at your house and it wasn’t until I was halfway back home that I realized I had the wrong kid,” Wayne huffs, and you break into a fit of giggles. “Just like that,” he points at you, “you laughed just like that under the sheet and you gave yourself away.” 

Wayne hands you a plate and you both sit down at the tiny kitchen table. You’re happy to see him like this. He’s not okay, and you’re not okay. But for now, he’s letting you in- and he’s letting you in so he can heal, even if never fully. He knows Eddie would want you here. 

You settle back into a comfortable silence again as you both eat. Both of you just happy to not be alone. You know your other friends feel this loss- everyone is just pained with losing Eddie. Everyone’s spirits are broken. Wayne and you knew Eddie best, the longest. Everyone is mourning their friend. Wayne and you are mourning Eddie in every phase of his life. 

Grief is a fickle thing. It comes down in waves. Unpredictable and always messy. And always uniquely different. It’s an anchor that sits on your chest and the seams that hold you together in the moments where you miss them the most. It also makes you emboldened. Too sad to care about anything- it lowers inhibitions and makes you realize how life is too short to be embarrassed. And it hits you all at once, and you don’t even know when you started crying into your food. 

It’s an ugly cry- the kind where you struggle to breathe, your nose runs uncontrollably and it sounds inhuman. Wayne comforts you the best he can, resting a hand on your shoulder. You can hardly speak as you manage to talk between heavy sobs. 

Eddie’s devastated. It hurts him so much to see you like this. He’s never seen this and he hopes soon he won’t have to again. Because he’ll figure out how to get home to you. As Wayne pulls you into a hug, Eddie makes a vow that no matter what he’s getting back. He racks his brain, trying to remember what his friends told him about the Upside Down. He wishes he could contact Dustin- he’s in no condition to even try to head over to his house. He needs to stay here- hoping you will continue to pick up on the clues. 

You ask Wayne if you can stay in Eddie’s room a little longer after dinner. He of course says yes. You help him with the dishes, and then head back to Eddie’s room. On his desk, you’re shifting through the clutter to try to find paper. So you can make notes of any weird occurrences. Eddie watched intently as you carefully move the amps, and find a composition book he had stashed away. It’s just a junk notebook, he’d use it to scribble or write down song ideas or brainstorm campaigns. 

You flip to a blank page as you take a seat at his desk chair. Eddie’s thankful he remembers a little Morse code- at least he learned something for the very brief time he was a scout (before he was kicked out). He walks over to the switch on the wall. 

One short flash, one long flash 

One short flash, one king flash, two short flashes 

Two short flashes 

Three short flashes, one long flash 

One short flash 

He repeats this over and over again, not sure what else he can do or what else he can relay. He knows you don’t know Morse code, and it needs to be simple enough that you can pick up the sequence and tell it to Dustin. He watches over your shoulder as you write down what you’ve seen. 

He watches as you look around until you locate his walkie. You press the button to speak. 

“Dustin?” You ask hesitantly, feeling a little foolish. 

“Dustin, over,” you hear him say, and you roll your eyes. 

“Yeah- there’s definitely a pattern here,” you say. 

“Say over when your done talking, over.”

“That’s stupid, over,” you quip. 

“Do you want my help or not? Over,” Dustin replies, obviously getting frustrated. 

You read off your notes to Dustin and it takes a few minutes for him to respond. The waiting is what’s killing you. Eddie tries to think of something else he can relay with the lights. Hopefully what he's done is enough, he thinks. 

“It spells alive, over,” Dustin says at last. You can hear the excitement in his voice, and it makes you feel like you’ve been able to take a full deep breath for the first time in weeks. 

“Are you sure?” You ask, trying to hold back. You can’t let yourself spiral. You can’t let yourself get your hopes up. It would break you. “Oh shit, the lights are doing something else now!”

One short flash 

One long flash, two short flashes 

One long flash, two short flashes 

Two short flashes 

One short flash

“What’s it say?” You ask impatiently. 

“It spells out Eddie,” Dustin responds, and Eddie can hear the happiness in his voice. 

“Oh fuck,” you exclaim, excitedly. You get up and pace anxiously. “How do we get him back, Dustin?” You ask, panicked, “How do I get him home?” 

“Shit,” Dustin replied, “We need to open the gate.” 

“How do we do that?” You insist. 

“Standby,” Dustin states matter of factly. “Can you stay at Eddie’s tonight?” 

“Sure, of course- whatever I need to do,” you say with certainty. 

“See if you can get anything else. Maybe he’ll send us something,” Dustin instructs. “We need to rope everyone else in on this. So we can do anything until tomorrow.” 

“We just found out that Eddie’s alive, stranded in hell and you’re saying we aren’t waking everyone else up and dealing with this immediately?” You’re angry. 

“We need to strategize, we can’t just half ass this,” Dustin rationalizes. “We need to figure out what to do,  we can’t exactly just call Eleven and just have her open a gate. Everyone is still looking for her. Besides, we don’t know if it’s actually Eddie yet either.”

“Of course it’s Eddie!” You interject. 

“We also can’t hurt him,” Dustin explains. “If we open the gate, it might send creatures his way that he isn’t strong enough to deal with. We need to do this right.” 

You can’t explain how it happened. It was really Dustin who headed the whole operation. You did your best to help, remembering some things from before. You watched your friends in awe, everyone banded together- no one stopping round the clock. It was incredible to witness. Your heart swelled. Everyone just loved Eddie, and no one was stopping until he was home safe. It was a group effort. Even Susie was phoned in from out of state to help out. It was sweet, watching Dustin get flustered as the two of them talked over walk-in talkie. You’d been waiting in the back of Nancy’s car,  Robin anxiously playing with the walkie- the three of you on stand-by as Steve, Jonathan and the others disappeared into the woods, hoping to bring Eddie out. You all wait, silently begging for any sort of update. And then you see them, huddled together- a group effort to carry Eddie. 

Eddie. 

He feels like he can finally breathe. The clean air fills his lungs and he feels like part of his old self again. Slung around Steve for support, he’s limping still from his injuries but he might as well have been running up the steps of the Philadelphia Museum of Art. Real life doesn’t feel real, it suddenly feels better. Especially, when he lifts his head and sees you right there, waiting for him. 

He smiles, that dopey perfect smile of his, like nothing happened. All he can do is just see you, it’s all he’s thought about and he’s just taking it all in- just you. In the flesh, standing right in front of him, waiting for him and loving him. He made it back to you, his girl, just like he promised himself he would. 

You can’t bear it any longer, you rush to his side, taking the weight of him from Steve- pulling Eddie in to a panicked embrace, like you might lose him again. He’s here, he’s actually really here. You realize you can’t squander this- not taking time for granted again. Not when he’s made it back to you like this. You sob, overwhelmed. The feeling of him after all this time has left you stunned. Everything else just fades- nothing matters now except him and the feeling of him against you like this. 

“Hi to you too, sweetheart,” he coughs, happily throwing his arms around you. Steve steps back to give you both space. “I’m so sorry,” he mumbles against your hair, kissing your forehead. Although it makes him wince to move his arm, he tilts your chin up to look at him. “And I’m so sorry I never did this sooner.” 

He presses his lips to yours, and you gasp softly in surprise at first. His hand cups your jaw and you feel his smile when you begin to kiss him back. His lips are so soft, except for the small cut that’s starting to heal. You’re too wrapped up in him to even notice. Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him in close. 

“I love you,” you rush, pulling away from the kiss- desperate to finally tell him. “I love you so much-“ he cuts you off with another kiss, not able to get enough of you. He knows! Oh God, he knows and he wants to sing it from the rooftops when his body doesn’t ache like this. But, fuck- he knows. And that is the best feeling. 

Wayne waits patiently, watching the two of you. He always knew you’d end up like this. He wasn’t one to interfere- but he knew before either of you. He considers himself so lucky to have watched your story together unfold. Shit, tears well in his eyes. His Eddie is home and safe. That’s all he cares about. His boy is alive and well and loved. Everything is going to be alright again. You all can move through this, together. 

“Love you so much,” Eddie says, pulling back. He wraps his arm around your shoulder. “I gotta see Wayne,” he whispers and you nod, helping him walk the rest of the way up the small dirt road to the trailer where Wayne waits in the doorway. You pass Eddie off to him, and it makes your heart swell watching Wayne pull him into a big hug as Eddie buried his face in Wayne’s shoulder like he would when he was little. 

Wayne helps Eddie into the trailer, and you follow closely behind after everyone says their goodbyes for now. You and Wayne help ease Eddie onto his bed, and all of the muscles in his body relax. He sighs, relieved, resting his head against his squished, unkempt pillows. Wayne pulls the blanket over him, and you head to the kitchenette to get Eddie water. A few seconds later, Wayne emerges from the room, slowly to avoid making noise.

“He passed out,” Wayne chuckles and you smile. He looks back to the closed bedroom door and then back to you. “I can’t believe I have to leave him already and go back to work,” he sighs. He looks to the clock on the wall, he’ll be due for his shift tonight. “I hate to have to go, but he’ll probably sleep the whole time.. right?”

“I think so,” you reassure Wayne. “Can I stay?” You ask hopefully. 

“Honey, you’re family. You stay as long as you want- you don’t need to ask me that.”

“I know, I just- I always just want to make sure I’m not overstaying my welcome.” 

“You’re a good kid.” 

With that, Wayne’s gone for now. Somehow miraculously back to the same Wayne you always knew. Everything has begun to settle. All of the parts that fragmented and tore him up are all falling back into place. He can do what he’s always done. His life revolved around Eddie- and he’s so relieved it can continue to do so. So for Eddie’s sake, he forgoes missing work again, and heads to his next shift. 

You look to the door of Eddie’s bedroom, suddenly a place that filled you was such an immense pain sparks butterflies and giddiness in your stomach. The space feels alive again even though he’s sleeping so soundly when you slip back inside. Your sweet, beautiful Eddie- taking up all the space in the room again and captivating your attention. He looks so exhausted but you still think he looks so angelic, as always. 

You don’t want to hurt him, so you keep your distance the best you can when you slide into the bed to lay next to him. Settling in on your side, you watch his gentle inhales and exhales and study all of the little details on his face like you have before- just so happy that you can do it again. Eddie wakes up shortly after, his brown eyes, that always make you seem to melt, are looking at you- taking in all of you again, just like you to him. How could ever not know he loved you when he looked at you like that? 

“C’mere,” he mumbles, his good arm reaching out to pull you in closer to his side. Hesitantly, you scoot closer, not wanting to hurt him. He picks up on that, always so good at reading you, and pulls you flush against his side. “So much better,” he sighs, kissing the tip of your nose. “There’s my girl.” His lazy smile makes you feel so warm. Your eyes linger on his lips, wanting desperately to kiss him again, just all the time- so you do, because you finally can. 

He helped save the world and he got the girl. This was not the way Eddie thought life would turn out for him. He’s not the main character, he’s not the hero- not like this, never like this. These were the stories he’d write about- a story like this is something he would just live through vicariously. But after everything, after all the heartache and the loss and the tragedy, he feels like he’s finally lived. But most of all, he feels like that because of you- he’s unapologetically yours. After years of silent, hopeless pining- secret yearning that he keeps hidden deep in himself- he feels so indescribably happy. It’s all due to you, and the way you’re looking at him at this moment. 

You offer Eddie nothing but sweet, soft kisses- scared to take it further because of his injuries. You don’t know how he’s feeling, so you feel yourself holding back. It’s still just as perfect as you always imagined kissing him would be. Tangled up in his sheets, your leg rests over his and your hands delicately rest on his chest. You fill his senses, and he swears despite how he must look, he’s never felt better. He wants to deepen the kiss- hell, there’s so many things he wants to do right now. His fingertips graze under the hem of your shirt, touching your soft skin. 

“Is this too much?” you ask, biting your lip. You’ve shifted so you’re hovering over him. Your hands rest on his shoulders. You’re worried about taking things too far, you don’t want to hurt him, but god, you don’t think you can keep holding back much longer. 

“Fuck no,” he exhales, his hands find your hips and pulls you down so you’re resting your weight on him so your stradling him. You can feel how hard he is, and it makes you surge with a little bit of pride, just knowing how you have this effect on him. Experimentally, you grind against him as you kiss him again. He moans against your lips and it sounds so strangled and desperate- it goes right to your core. He wishes he could reciprocate more- god, he really did. As soon as he’s better, he promises. 

You smirk, against his lips, pleased with yourself that you can make him sound like that. It’s addicting. You need more, you want to experience everything. Testing the waters, you kiss his neck as you reach down to unzip his jeans. His head falls back against the pillows and he sighs, contently as you free his hard cock from the confines of his jeans and his boxers. Fuck, he’s gorgeous like this. You can tell he’s insecure- the scars on his body from what he went through, and you’re going to show him that you think he’s stunning. 

“You’re so pretty, Eds,” you reassure him, trailing your fingertips down his torso and then pulling up his Hellfire t-shirt. You bat your lashes at him and he feels his knees grow weak. You pull your own shirt over your head and toss it haphazardly aside. His mouth suddenly feels dry, and his eyes widen. The sight is almost too much for him to take. There’d been so many nights where he’d imagined you like this- but nothing, absolutely nothing in his head measured up to this. It’s all you- his best friend, the love of his love, perched on his lap oh so prettily looking at him with a mischievous sparkle in your eyes. His heart pounds rapidly in his chest and he’s speechless. 

You move so you can bend down and press your lips to his leaking tip. You kiss and lick the precum away before slowly taking his cock in your mouth. The noises he’s making are filthy, breathy moans and it only fuels your desire to unravel him. You’re only getting started. 

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he wines, and you bob your head up and down the length of his shaft teasingly slow. It’s almost methodical, you pulling him apart like this. Slow and purposeful- long drawn out fucking teasing thats making his entire body shake with need. You hum content, pleased with how he’s responding to you. You look at him, from behind your eyelashes, wide doe eyes connecting with his before you pull away, a string of your saliva stretching between your swollen lips and his head. He thinks he might pass out and your hand wraps around his cock. 

“Is this okay?” you ask, smirk forming on your lips as you feign innocence. You watch as his mind stutters, unable to form a coherent response. He nods, his eyes closing tight from the sensation. It’s all too much. You press your lips to his neck, trailing kisses across his jaw. “Use your words, baby,” you purr, your breath warm on his face. “Don’t want to hurt you,” you whisper, and then suck gently leaving a little mark on his neck. 

“Please,” he whimpers, not even sure what he’s asking for. He pants, it’s all too much. 

“Please what, love?” you smile, kissing down his chest and your fingertips trace his scars lovingly as you admire his exposed skin. You move his bangs out of his eyes delicately as you gaze down at him. 

“Need you,” he pleads, leaning up as much as he can to reconnect his lips to yours. “Fuck, need you so bad, baby.” 

You pull off your jeans and toss them to the floor near your shirt. Now, you’re just left in your bra and panties. You’re a little nervous- but you shouldn’t be. There’d been so many instances over past summers where you and Eddie have gone swimming together. This isn’t showing any more than that, but this is different. This is so different. Because you wouldn’t see him staring at you, gawking at how you’d look in your two pieces. He’d keep his desire hidden away, so you never knew how crazy you made him. Now, there’s no stolen glances. It’s all laid out in the open, and he’s staring at you with such an intensity that you can’t focus on anything else. 

“God, you’re so fucking beautiful,” he sighs, reaching out to feel you. His hand trails across your side, running down your curves. He rests his hand on your hip, feeling the soft fabric of your panties. “I like these,” he winks, releasing the band and watching it snap back into place against your hip. “So pretty.”

You reach behind you as he smiles up at you, and unhook your bra letting it fall. You watch his Adam's apple bob as you pull the material away. His eyes darken as he gulps, god you were so fucking perfect. “Fuck, you have perfect fucking tits,” he groans, reaching down to stroke his cock, needing to relieve himself if only just a bit, as he takes in all of you. You shimmy out of your panties quickly, wanting to be close to him again as soon as possible. You press your lips against his, and you straddle his lap again. 

You can feel the coolness of his rings against you as he lines himself up with your entrance. You slide down onto his cock and the stretch feels so goddamn good. You moan, holding onto his shoulders to stabilize you. “Mmm Eddie,” you gasp, surprised when he thrusts up and his hands rest on your hips. He guides you, letting your hips do most of the work then- guiding you to fuck yourself on his cock. Your brain is fogged with lust- it feels so fucking good. He feels so good. It’s all so incredible, you can’t think straight as you lose yourself in the movement, working up to a steady rhythm. 

“That’s it baby,” he praises. “You’re doing so good, fuck. Use me, sweetheart. Want you to get yourself off with my cock.” He smirks when you whimper, loving the way he’s speaking a little too much. Your whines are his favorite sound, he decides. It’s all too much, he doesn’t know how long he can hold out. Your blissed out expression, your tits bouncing in his face, your hips moving against him, your pussy taking his cock so well… it’s so much better than he could’ve dreamed. You’re like an angel, and he’s mesmerized taking it all in. 

“Fuck, your so big, Eds,” you whine, moving your hips and grinding against him. Without losing your pace, you lean and kiss him hungrily, and you feel the all too familiar knot start to form in your stomach. “‘M so close,” you mumble, cock drunk and chasing your own orgasm. “Wanna cum together,” you plead against his lips. You straighten your back, and you decide to give him a show. You bring your hands up, massaging your tits and tug at your hardened nipples as you continue to bounce on his cock. 

“Fuck, baby, I-“ he strains, reaching around you and grabbing your ass, squeezing as he matches your pace and thrusts up into you. His fingernails dig into your flesh and the sensation makes you dizzy. It’s all too much, it all feels too good. You feel like everything is heightened, your senses are all too overwhelmed in him. He sits up fully, pressing fevered kisses on your torso, mumbling how much he fucking loves you, and it’s enough to send you over the edge. 

The feeling of your walls clenching around his cock, is enough to make Eddie orgasm shortly after you. Whimpered sighs of relief escape his pretty lips as he finishes inside you, you moving your hips until he’s pulling out, all of his energy spent. He collapses back into his pillows, his chest rising and falling heavily to catch his breath. His hair strewn about on his pillow messily as his eyes fall heavy as he basks in the feeling of this total bliss. 

You lay down next to him, both of your bodies glistening with sweat. You take a moment to also catch your breath and you catch his eye. “Shit,” you exhale, and giggle. He smiles softly, reaching across to tuck your hair back out of your face. “That was..” you begin, not able to finish your thought and you stare at his ceiling. 

“Yeah,” he sighs in agreement. He turns his head to look at you, smirking. “You had a crush on me,” he teases. 

“Shut the fuck up,” you grumble, hiding your face in your hands. “You’re such a dork,” you mumble, tossing a pillow at him playfully.

“You really didn’t know I was in love with you?” He asks with a chuckle, leaning over carefully to grab his box of cigarettes from his dresser. “You can’t be serious.” 

“Well you didn’t know either,” you say defensively, getting up to go to the restroom. You grab your shirt and pull your panties back on- just to have something on when you go to the bathroom. When you return, Eddie’s taking a drag and he beckons you back to lay down beside him. He lifts his arm so you can take your place snuggled up to his side. He lets out a long exhale and the smoke wafts up and out of the vent in the ceiling. He kisses your forehead, and Eddie just watches as you slowly drift off. 

He’s fighting against sleep so he can finish his cigarette. He eventually realizes he can’t force himself awake much longer. He taps it out and drops it in the ashtray, the temptation of dozing off with you overtaking everything else. He wraps his arm around you and pulls the blankets up, resting his chin on the top of your head. Wrapped up in each other, the two of you sleep better than you have in months.

TAGLIST: @sunshinepeachx @downbear @fanlifeaamt @exploding-bonbon @losingmygrasponreality @skiddypiddy @andvys @djodirt @moonlightsolo @kyga01 @sheisjoeschateau @melaninjhs @v3lv3tf0x @purpleeyeswithgoldensparkles @sunshine-mrk @danymunsonharrington @mrsjellymunson @fanficfantik @the-unforgivenn @punkrockmlchael @keeryhours

[thekaratcake-blog]

Yup, I know pinging @onlyalittleperverse will just cause him to go on some unhinged rant about howi t's cultural appropriation that we are applying modern definitions to... blah blah blah, blatant misunderstanding of what appropriation is or what "trans means"

But it's pretty cool how unbelievably clear it is that these people are trans like we see today, one of many amazing examples of even people as far back as we can go in history speaking of the exact sort of things we experience in the modern day, the fundamental terminology that even they are using and often direct translations of their language, perfectly fitting hte descriptions of certain queer groups today

It is amazing how absolutely inarguable it is that the people depicted here would be considered trans in the modern day

And of course it shows that the rate of hatred and queerphobia we see in the modern day isn't a universal thing, and it's interesting to look how hate of certain groups correlates directly with how much it benefits certain political powers to drive said hate

Stuff like how trans women have been in sports, in the biggest sporting event in the world, the olympics, for 20 years, and until only a handful of years ago, people were dead silent about it, there was no sudden turn, no trans people overtaking female sports, and no trans women even breaking any of the women's records

But as soon as gay people are too widely accepted to be used to spread fear, we see trans people targetted again, all of these decade old things being brought up and treated as if they are some new craze, some crazy new ideaology or movement, to help spread fear among those who don't know any better

To help reinforce the internal fear and predujdice of those who are unaware of the power of their own bias

I hope one day we can break free of this, one day when a politician suddenly and inexplicably shines light on a small group of people doing something "weird", people will see right through them, see them for what they are

Like, why do so few people stop to think "why are transgender people considered a political topic in the first place? This is very clearly a medical question and should have and should still be handled by the medical field and the people who regulate it"

This was the case for decades before the new fearmongering around laws that have been around for ages, but I wonder how many people even realize that trans people using hte right bathrooms, being in sports, just existing overall, isn't a new thing, and it's only framed that way to add urgency to the fearmongering so people feel they have to vote against it NOW, to give power to those who spread that fear NOW

That marginalized groups are being exploited to drive votes towards the parties that attack them and treat them as a threat, that only they may solve

Just as a king might say there is a great dragon on the hill that only he can kill, and his people should be grateful and should keep him in power so that he may do that, when in reailty that dragon is a skink he found on a rock

A history and mythology lesson reminding you that trans and non-binary people have always existed! [Long post]

[scoupsakakitty]

Fan Letter | idol!Dk x reader | fluff

Y/N had never thought much about the contents of the shoebox tucked away in the corner of her closet. It was a relic from her teenage years, filled with old posters, concert tickets, and faded memories of a time when she was just another fan in a sea of glowing light sticks.

But apparently, DK had other plans for that shoebox.

“Y/N,” his voice rang through her apartment as he stepped inside, waving a crumpled piece of paper in the air. His expression was a mix of confusion, amusement, and something else she couldn’t quite place. “What is this?”

Y/N blinked, completely caught off guard. “What are you talking about?”

He held up the paper, and her stomach immediately dropped. The handwriting was unmistakable, it was hers. A letter she had written years ago, when she was just a fan who never thought she’d actually meet the man who had inspired her so much. And now, here he was, standing in her living room, holding the very letter she had hoped no one would ever see.

“Where did you even find that?” she asked, her voice a mix of panic and embarrassment.

DK grinned, tilting his head in that way he always did when he was teasing her. “You told me to grab a blanket from your closet, so I might’ve… accidentally opened a box.”

Y/N groaned, covering her face with her hands. “Seokmin, you weren’t supposed to see that. It’s so embarrassing.”

But DK didn’t seem embarrassed at all. In fact, he looked almost… touched. “You wrote this to me? Like, for real?” He glanced back down at the letter, reading it aloud with dramatic flair. “Dear DK, I don’t know if you’ll ever see this, but I just wanted to say thank you. Your voice has helped me get through so many tough days.”

“Stop it!” Y/N lunged at him, trying to grab the letter, but he was too quick, holding it above his head and out of her reach.

“Whenever I feel like giving up, I listen to your songs, and it feels like I can breathe again. I don’t know how to explain it, but you make everything feel a little lighter.” He paused, his expression softening as he lowered the letter and met her eyes. “You’ll probably never know who I am, but I just wanted to say thank you for being you.”

Y/N froze, her cheeks burning as she tried to think of something to say. “I was young, okay? I didn’t think you’d ever read that. It’s… it’s just stupid.”

But DK shook his head, folding the letter carefully and slipping it into his pocket. “It’s not stupid. Not even a little.”

“Seokmin…” she started, but he cut her off, stepping closer.

“Do you know how much this means to me?” he said, his voice quieter now. “To know that I could make someone feel like that? To know that I made you feel like that?”

Y/N looked up at him, her embarrassment slowly fading as she saw the sincerity in his eyes. “You really helped me,” she admitted softly. “Back then, when I was going through a lot, your voice… it made things feel less heavy. It made me feel like I wasn’t alone.”

DK’s smile grew, and he reached out to take her hands in his. “And now you’re not alone. Not anymore.”

She let out a shaky laugh, trying to lighten the mood. “You’re never going to let me live this down, are you?”

“Nope,” he said with a laugh, pulling her into a hug. “But seriously, Y/N, this is one of the nicest things anyone’s ever said about me. And the fact that it came from you makes it even better.”

She relaxed in his arms, her head resting against his shoulder. “I still can’t believe you found that.”

“Believe it,” he teased, gently swaying them side to side. “But hey, if you ever want to write me another letter, I wouldn’t mind. Maybe something like, ‘Dear DK, you’re the best boyfriend in the world.’”

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re the reason I keep singing,” he replied softly, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

As they stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, Y/N realized that the boy she had written to all those years ago had turned out to be even better than she could have ever imagined.

————————————————————————————-

[bring-forth-his-sac]

Not sure if this is too far but maybe some dads best friend mixed in with close calls and very rough stuff if ya know what I mean 😏

Stained

Word Count: 7.4k

Warnings/Tags:  rough sex, degrading name calling (slut), mentions of a facial, cheating (soz Lucille), alcohol consumption, hair pulling, semi-public sex

It happened again.

By now, Negan knows the routine. Argue. Say shit neither one of them can take back. Lucille kicks him out or else Negan reaches his limit and storms out. Make up later. It’s their pattern.

But tonight is different. 

They were supposed to go to a friend’s house for dinner, which threw a wrench in their usual routine. A part of Negan still wanted to go. Sure, he dreaded the tension-filled conversation, Lucille throwing in her usual passive-aggressive digs, but there was a silver lining: he could vent afterward. He needed to. To someone who’d actually get it, without the sugar-coating.

Negan has been friends with your dad for years, long enough to know they could trade a few sharp words and move on without it turning into some dramatic scene. Sometimes, Negan could really use that kind of blunt, no-nonsense talk with another guy. 

But hell, he wouldn’t mind shooting the shit with you either. You always got his humor and honestly, you were the only one who could make him laugh without trying so damn hard.

Instead of your home, he finds himself at a bar. Lucille was quick to call dibs on going solo to your parents house, not wanting to deal with Negan in front of friends. 

He left without another word, driving to the local watering hole like a man on a mission.

The bar is the usual kind of dimly lit place that doesn't ask questions. Negan doesn’t need questions tonight. What he needs is a drink and a distraction.

He settles onto a chair by the bartop and orders a whiskey, the burn of it going down smoother than he expected.

Lucille’s parting words echo in his head, the sharpness of her dismissal stinging all over again. The way she had shut him down so easily, almost like telling off a child. Negan can feel the frustration creeping back in. He could’ve used a laugh tonight but instead, he’s stuck here. 

Alone, as usual.

On a typical night, Negan hates how quiet the bar is. He can’t stand silences, everything about it gets on his nerves. The patrons are too tight to even cough up a quarter to play a song on the jukebox. It always feels like the kind of place where the air is thick with nothingness and every minute stretches on longer than the last.

Negan doesn’t have the luxury to brood over that on this particular night. Instead, the loud chattering of a group of girls fills the bar, cutting through the silence like a chainsaw.

Just a handful of them crowd around a table, all bright-eyed and wide smiles, laughing as though the weight of the world hasn’t yet found them.

His brow furrows as he watches them out of the corner of his eye. They’re not doing anything wrong but the racket they’re making feels invasive in the normally subdued space. 

Every time they laugh, the sound hits him like a hammer to his skull, ringing in his ears. It’s like a constant, steady hum of disruption. Negan can appreciate a little noise and some new life in the place, but tonight?

Tonight, it’s too much. It’s frustrating him. He takes another swig of his whiskey but it doesn’t quite block out their high-pitched, frantic laughter. 

One of the girls spills a drink, and the others burst into a fresh round of giggles, the kind that seems to echo through the entire room. 

He’s about to look away when another girl quickly picks up the drink and continues to say something. She's sitting across from the others, leaning forward and talking animatedly, her hands flying through the air with each word. 

One of her hands subtly goes to her thigh and she tries to discreetly yank down her dress. 

Negan wonders if women know they don’t need to wear tight mini dresses or the crop tops to get laid. But he supposes that’s the joy of being a  youngster. They do stupid shit, wear stupid shit, drink stupid shit. Some grow out of it while others still say stupid shit and end up drinking alone at a bar.

His eyes flicker over her figure. Negan can’t see her face, the angle of her head and the way her body is half-turned away from him hides it. 

Negan doesn’t mind. He can still appreciate her thighs and the curve of her ass from his seat at the bar. Her hair and back covers most of her upper body too so Negan can’t appreciate any titty action just yet.

His fingers drum against the bar and he catches himself, realizing that he’s staring. He quickly looks away, taking another drink of his whiskey as if the liquid will wash away whatever was just stirred up inside him.

In a way, Negan’s glad you’re not like that. You’re pretty without all the extra shit. Since elementary school, you've never been the type to crave attention or stand out in a crowd. Yet you're not the kind of introvert who keeps completely to yourself either.

You fall somewhere in the middle, comfortable with who you are without needing to put on a show for anyone.

There’s been plenty of times you’ve been the most entertaining thing to Negan at your parent’s dinner parties. He loves the witty remarks you toss his way and how you both quietly poke fun at the evening while the others remain oblivious. Those little moments are the highlight of his night.

But, of course, there are also those other times. When a careless comment from your father or mother hits a nerve and you retreat into yourself, disappearing into the background. Negan can always tell when that happens; the sharpness in your eyes dulls and the sarcastic remarks you usually offer him vanish. 

He wonders if you’ll be disappointed tonight, when it’s only Lucille who arrives for dinner. You make the dinners bearable for him but surely you reciprocate that feeling. Both of you are as thick as thieves in your own subtle way.

The woman he’s been checking out stands, saying one more quick thing to her friends before she turns and heads for the bar.

Maybe it’s because you’re already clouding his thoughts that seeing you in person hits him even harder. He’s imagined you a thousand times, with your quiet demeanor and the casual clothes you wear that make you almost invisible.

The mental image of you is so vivid, it’s like you’ve been etched into his mind… yet here you are, so different than that.

You do the same action that you did earlier, yanking down the end of your dress as it threatens to ride up your thigh. Negan lets out a gulp, not sure how he feels at the fact that he’s been checking out his friend’s daughter.

Turning back to say something to your friends, you let out a laugh as you clog along in your high heels to the bar. 

This is exactly what you needed. A night away from all your worries and stresses… and your parents. 

Besides, you're an adult now. You’re allowed to have fun! Whether that be crazy golf, drinking until you need your stomach pumped or smoking whatever. No matter how much guilt or pressure your parents try to put on you, tonight is yours. You’re no longer bound by their expectations. You can take a break from being the person they want you to be and just be.

Maybe that’s why the words “Lydia found out her boyfriend cheated so everyone was going to go over to hers and cheer her up!” came out of your mouth when you told your parents you couldn’t stay for dinner instead of “We all want to go out and down tequila shots!”.

Whether your actual reasoning would’ve worked or not, it doesn’t matter because they let you out with no more than a remorseful look as you left to help your heartbroken friend.

“Get more salt sachets!” a giddy Lydia calls out as you clip-clop up to the bar. 

You’re so caught up in your own little bubble of excitement that you barely notice the guy at the bar. You wait beside him, leaning on the counter and waiting until the bartender comes over. When you feel his eyes linger, you glance his way, wondering if you’ve found some fun for the night. 

You look over, pre-emptively batting your eyes lashes everything seems to slow down. There, standing just a few inches away, is Negan. Your dad’s friend. 

You freeze for a moment, excuses caught in your throat, as you realize that it’s not just the familiarity of his face that’s throwing you off. It’s the way he's looking at you. Negan’s expression is unreadable but the way his gaze lingers has a weight that catches you off guard.

You try to swallow the sudden lump in your throat. What is he thinking? How long has he been standing there? And why, of all people, did it have to be him?

You hate it. On one hand, you want to ignore him. Maybe give him a nod of acknowledgment before pretending like you’re not in front of someone you’ve known since you were a kid. 

But on the other hand, you know what Negan’s like and the last thing you want is for him to loudly draw attention to your… friendship? 

Ushering yourself closer, you hurriedly whisper “What are you doing here?!”.

Negan struggles to maintain his composure, forcing himself to keep his eyes on your face instead of letting them wander. 

“What am I doing here?” His jaw clenches as if readying himself to barrage you with questions “What are you doing here, dressed like that? Are you drunk? Do your parents know you’re here? I swear….”.

You scoff defensively, glancing down at the glass of whiskey in front of him. “Oh so I can’t go out with friends but you’re allowed to drown your sorrows?”.

Negan doesn’t even entertain your question, immediately waving it off. “That’s not the damn point,” he hisses “I’m not the one with my tits out and stumbling around a bar!”. 

He shoots some other patrons a glare as they try to eavesdrop, making sure they keep their eyes to themselves. You gasp, putting a hand on your chest. Maybe your dress is a lower cut than what you’d usually wear but your boobs aren’t about to pop out of the thing!

“You— you can’t talk to me like that!” despite how your face flushes, you stand your ground. You’ve always known Negan to be raunchy but not once has he ever spoken to you like this before.

"Can't talk to you like what?” Negan doesn’t give you the time to ponder that rhetorical question, crossing his arms as he continues to lecture you.

“You think you look appropriate right now? You think your parents would approve of this outfit?" his eyes narrowing dangerously.

“I’m out with friends, not at dinner with my parents!” You defend, deciding to add in your own jab “Besides, I thought you were at theirs tonight, having dinner with Lucille… not drinking alone”.

Negan can’t keep still. He’s too antsy, wanting to shake some sense into you but trying to stay cool in public.

With an elbow propped up on the bar, Negan points a finger at you “Watch it, before I haul your ass outta here”.

This is the closest you’ve ever seen Negan to real anger. Whenever he’s been at your house, it’s always been the aftermath of it you’ve witnessed. His sullen mood and Lucille’s small comments at him whenever the conversation allowed; both of them handling their simmering frustration in their own way. 

To not only witness his anger first hand, but to have it directed at you… you’re not sure if you want to pout or get on your knees right then and there.

You scoff, trying to seem unbothered. “Enjoy your drink, I’m going back to my friends,” you say it with just enough sass, turning to retreat back to your table.

You know it’s a pointless endeavour. 

Negan won’t allow it. And you know it.

His hand snakes around your upper arm, his grip firm but not painful. "Oh no you don't,” he tugs you back, urging you to face him again “we’re leaving. Now”.

You were hoping for a little more time here, a bit more back-and-forth, rile him up before hopefully breaking down those stubborn walls. 

“You can leave, but I’m not!” you snap, digging your heels in.

He leans in close, his anger flaring back to life as his voice drops into a dangerously low growl. “I’m not asking you, sweetheart, I’m telling you” the pet name slips out like a command, making something tighten in your chest. 

“You’re drunk, you’re dressed like a goddamn slut and you’re not staying in this bar another second”.

Is it bad you can feel the heat between your legs as he degrades you? How is it your dad’s friend, someone you kinda considered your own friend too, is calling you a slut so easily? And why does he keep trying to steal quick glances at your chest?

Heh, well, you know the answer to that last question.

Still, you play your part and you slap his arm. “Don’t call me that! Jackass” you say with a defiant huff.

His eyes widen but Negan doesn’t acknowledge the slap in the way you wanted him to. Instead of continuing to bicker, he grabs his leather jacket from the back of his chair and throws it on, his movements sharp. 

“Jackass?” he repeats, clearly not amused.

“Yes! You’re acting like a major jackass!” you fire back, though there’s a glimmer of amusement in your voice. 

Negan grins, that mocking, almost wicked smile spreading across his face as steers you away from the bar.

“Yeah, and you know what else I am?” he asks “The one dragging your drunk, barely dressed ass out of this bar before you make a complete fool of yourself”.

He starts tugging you toward the exit. “I had like… two drinks!” you protest, stumbling slightly to keep up.

But just as he’s about to drag you out the door, you use all the momentum you have to shove him into the door right next to the exit. 

The ladies toilets. 

Your friends giggle as you both disappear from sight, assuming you’re hooking up with the stranger. They’ve always known you have a thing for older men but little do they know who he really is…

Negan stumbles into the bathroom, his mind still trying to process how he went from the exit to somehow ending up in here instead. His brow furrows as he takes in the situation.

Before he can say a word, you speak, your voice steady but firm “Negan, I’m not leaving”.

He steps closer “Yes. You. Are. We’re leaving. Right. Now”. His hand shoots out to grab your arm, but you’re already one step ahead. You sidestep him, narrowly avoiding his grip.

“No!” you exclaim, more forcefully than you intended. Hoping to get through to him, you soften your tone, offering a sliver of vulnerability. “My parents don’t know I’m here… they think I’m just at a friend’s place” you admit.

Your words hang in the air, a soft confession of rebellion. But Negan’s response is as expected—he rolls his eyes, the action exaggerated as if he’s heard this excuse a thousand times before. 

“I don’t give a fuck if your parents ground you for a year!” He snaps, his voice low but intense “You’re not staying here dressed like that and acting like this”.

“Acting like what? Having fun?”.

His jaw clenches. “By acting like you’re only worth a quick fuck in the backseat of someone’s car,” Negan replies, the words carrying a weight that makes your stomach sink.

The insult stings, but you refuse to back down. With a small scoff, you shake your head and tilt your chin up slightly. “You’re telling me you didn’t do that when you were young?” you challenge.

Negan’s expression falters for a split second, his lips twitching as if he’s about to crack a grin but he maintains his steely expression. 

He exhales sharply through his nose, his stance stiffening. “I did it because I’m a guy,” he mutters, his tone clipped “so it’s different”.

“That’s misogynist,” you point out as you cross your arms, unintentionally making your cleavage more noticeable.

For a moment, you catch Negan’s gaze flickering downward before snapping back up to your eyes, his face strained. 

His lips press together in a tight line, his eyes briefly closing in frustration as he fights to maintain his composure. “Fuck, can you just…” Negan gestures vaguely at you “Cover up or something?”.

Without waiting for an answer, Negan turns away, running a hand through his dark locks. 

You let out a quiet sigh. “I didn’t bring a jacket,” you say flatly, not giving him the satisfaction of seeing you flustered.

He mutters something under his breath, too quiet for you to catch. With a dramatic huff, he whips off his leather jacket. “Of course you didn’t. On top of everything else, you want to get hypothermia too” His voice drips with exasperation.

Negan turns back to you, holding out the jacket, his eyes briefly look to your chest again before quickly darting back to your face, his bottom lip caught between his teeth.

You catch the slight pause, the way his gaze betrays him, but you choose not to acknowledge it— at least, not directly. You stare him down, not hiding the smirk plastered on your face. Then, in one swift movement, he practically hurls the jacket at you. 

“Here,” he says, the word a little too resigned.

Instinctively, you catch the jacket, but you don’t put it on. Instead, you hold it in your arms, letting it drape over them as you roll your eyes at his comments. 

“I’m not some delicate little flower,” you tease, your smirk becoming playful “maybe I like it rough”.

The words slip out without thinking, a little too flippantly, and you feel the heat rise to your cheeks.

Maybe those two drinks were enough to get you tipsy after all.

Negan’s eyes narrow at you and you can see the gears turning in his head. There’s a flicker of something in his expression. Maybe amusement, maybe disbelief, but before he can say anything, you catch the faintest hint of a smirk forming on his lips.

He steps closer, his imposing frame shadowing you as he leans in. “Damn, you’re something else,” he says, his voice thick with something you can’t quite place.

You’re not sure if it’s the alcohol or the overwhelming presence he has, but for the first time tonight, you feel a small shiver run up your spine. 

“Rough, huh?” His words are like a threat, his tone smooth and dangerous.

Before you can respond, his hand shoots out, and suddenly, he has a firm grip on your hair, tugging it just enough to pull your head back. 

“Ow! Negan!!” You whine, your voice a mix of surprise and irritation. Good job at proving you like it rough.

He loosens his grip, but his fingers stay tangled in your hair, holding you captive in his gaze. He stares down at you, his dark eyes boring into yours. 

“You think I don’t notice how gorgeous you are?” he murmurs, his voice low, almost possessive “But this? Telling me you like it rough? Tsk, tsk, tsk”. 

Your heart skips a beat at the admission, and your eyes widen ever so slightly. The words settle in your chest, warm and electric, and for a split second, everything else fades away. 

Negan thinks you’re gorgeous. 

You can barely process it but you don’t get a chance to let the moment settle. His fingers tighten in your hair again, this time with purpose. 

“There’s a difference,” he growls, his voice rougher now, “between making eyes at some random guy at a bar and teasing a man who actually knows what to do with you”.

You swallow hard. His grip on you, the way he towers over you, his scent— all of it feels like a pressure you can’t escape. You can barely breathe.

“And you…” You pause, testing the waters “You know what to do with me?”.

And then, possibly the most un-hot thing happens. A toilet flushes. The sound is loud and sudden, causing you both to freeze. It comes from one of the stalls at the end of the room and it’s quickly followed by the drunken shuffling of feet and a zipping noise. 

Without a word, you and Negan lock eyes, an unspoken agreement passing between you in that single, charged moment. 

“Shit,” Negan mutters under his breath, his hand still tangled in your hair, but now pulling you toward the nearest empty cubicle with urgency. 

“Ouch!” you whisper, batting at his hand and making him untangle his hand from your hair. You barely have time to shoot him a glare before he’s guiding you into the small space, his body close behind you.

Just as the cubicle at the end of the room unlocks, the lock to your cramped cubicle slots into place with a soft click.

For a moment, you both hold your breath. You’re pressed together in the cramped space, his chest against your back, your bodies flush together.

You hear the drunken patron stumble, mumbling something unintelligible as they turn on one of the taps and start washing their hands. You both hold still, waiting for the heavy footsteps to move away. Negan holds you against him, one hand on your waist to keep you close. 

Although that’s not the only thing that’s touching you. 

It’s hard not to notice the unmistakable press of his semi-erect cock nestling against the curve of your ass. It feels firm yet pliant, a promise of things to come. 

Turning your head just enough to look up at him through your eyelashes. He doesn’t meet your gaze, too busy zoning into some spot in the stall door as he listens intently to the patron outside.

His brow furrows just slightly, the lines on his forehead deepening as he focuses. You can tell he's strategizing, weighing up different excuses in case he’s caught in the ladies room. Negan’s lips are pressed together, a slight tension around them, but it's not a scowl. 

Deciding you want some attention, you press your ass back slightly. You hear a grunt.

“You’re not making this easy on me,” he huffs. You can feel the warmth of his breath against your neck as he looks down.

Through the thin walls, you can hear the drunk go on their way, their footsteps slowly fading as they stagger out of the bathroom. The door swings shut with a final, echoing creak. 

As if to prove his point, Negan moves his hips forward, forcing his erection against your ass. He’s harder than you thought and you shudder at the mere size of the thing in his pants. 

He makes a quiet, pleased sound against your ear as his hand trails up your waist, teasing passing the side of your breast before settling on the back of your neck. 

“Fuck, you're responsive…” He pulls back slightly, making sure you can still feel him.

“Is that a good thing?” you ask softly.

He chuckles, his voice low and husky. “It's a dangerous thing, darlin,” he squeezes your neck teasingly “Nothing good ever comes from being too responsive... unless you're trying to drive a man wild”.

“Maybe that’s exactly why I’m trying to do” you push back against him again, this time bending your body slightly to really accentuate your ass.

Except all that does is encourage your dress to ride up your thighs again, stopping just before your ass. Grabbing his leather jacket from your arms, Negan tosses it up on the stall door before moving to your thighs.

Negan isn’t a one to waste time, especially when it comes to taking advantage of certain situations. Bringing both hands down to your thighs, he helps you dress by tugging it up in one swift movement. You let out a gasp as the cool, thankfully air conditioned bathroom making the skin on your ass get goosebumps.

“Negan! I-“ you move to turn away so he can’t see your ass but Negan’s one step ahead this time.

 Looping an arm around your torso, he makes sure you keep the squirming to a minimum. With his other hand, he brings it down between your legs and presses a finger against your panties.

He holds you in place, bent at the hips and ass against his crotch. You can feel the dampness of your panties against your heat. The wetness seeps into the fabric, making it stick to the lips of your pussy. 

“Fuck me, you are soaked!” with no qualms about modesty, Negan swipes the tacky panties to the side and gets a feel of your folds himself. 

You stop a moan from escaping, not wanting to be too eager. "Goddamn, you're a sticky little mess, ain't ya? All wet and sloppy, just fucking dripping” he teases your hole, momentarily pressing a finger to it but never dipping inside.

Hoping to gain some control, you go to stand up straight. The thoughts of looking into his eyes as he fingers you is more appealing than your view being the wall of a bathroom stall.

But Negan isn’t as fond of the idea. The arm looped around you quickly makes its way to your back, forcing you to stay bent. You let out a scoff as the side of your face smushes against the wall. 

“Negan, what the fuck?” You whine, blindly throwing one of your arms back at him “If you’re gonna finger me, at least let me enjoy it!”.

“Nuh-uh,” he grabs your arm and presses it against your back, restraining you before he continues his exploration of your pussy “I get to decide how the fuck we do this”.

You quieten down when you feel a finger trace your folds, spreading your wetness around. “You this much of a slut for every guy or am I just lucky?” He asks, chuckling at his own thoughts “Your friends were cheering like this is a usual thing for you”.

Before you can reply, Negan plunges two fingers deep inside your dripping cunt, his thumb grinding against your clit. “I— ah!” You mewl, trying to give a coherent response “N-no, never!”.

Negan picks up his pace, loving how you give in, basically slumping against the wall. “See, doll, I want to believe you. I mean, I don’t know that many sluts that get this fucking wet from just a little grinding… it’s shameful, really” he curls his fingers to hit the perfect spot, making your squirm.

“But in saying that,” Negan continues, his breath hitting against your neck as he leans closer “I don’t know that many modest gals that wear something like this”. 

Deciding you know better than to repeat your mistake and move again, Negan takes his hand off your back and paws at your chest instead. But in true Negan fashion, he needs to up his antics.

Tugging down the low cut neckline of your dress, you hear a ripping noise as he pulls at the fabric and forces it down past your bra.

“Huh… surprised your modest enough to wear a bra” he comments, quickly rectifying the situation. Without warning, Negan roughly shoves the bra cups up, freeing your tits completely. "Fuck, look at these," he growls, appreciating the sight of your breasts spilling out. 

The fingers he has working your hole pause and retreat, much to your disappointment. You take the opportunity to turn around to face him, starting to feeling a crick in your neck from being smushed up by the wall.

“Asshole, you tore my dress“ your voice is laced with frustration, although that may be from how much you want him to stop teasing and fuck you already. 

With an amused scoff, Negan goes to hold up his hands in surrender. His fingers glisten with your juices. “I’m trying to be a gentlemen here, doll” he chuckles as he defends himself.

You fight the urge to cover yourself, knowing that’s what he’s waiting for. He wants to see that shy side, to see you blush and get flustered. 

You glare at him instead “How is this being a gentleman?”.

“Well, I coulda just ripped it clean off, but I left ya some dignity,” Negan smirks, crowding you again. You’re left no choice but to back into the wall, holding your glare as you look up at him.

“And I've fingered ya before fucking ya which is pretty damn noble” he adds, seeing you battle between staying annoyed and wanting to blush. You open your mouth to complain but a loud moan comes out instead as Negan pinches one of your nipples.

He thumbs your hard nipples, chuckling as they perk up even more under his touch. “Damn, always knew you’d have a good pair on ya," he muses “fuckin’ perfect”.

Negan doesn't hesitate, leaning down to engulf one nipple in his mouth. He sucks hard, letting his teeth graze the sensitive bud as he kneads the other breast roughly. Groaning around your nipple, he switches to the other, assaulting it with the same fervent enthusiasm. 

With a grunt, Negan grabs your thighs and hoists you up, pinning you against the wall with his muscular body. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, arms going around his shoulders.

Negan grinds his still clothed cock against your bare pussy, applying just enough pressure to make you whimper. 

The rough denim of his pants provides no comfort, each thrust of his hips pressing his erection directly against your sensitive clit. "You feel that?" He asks against your tit “Want you to beg for it, gotta hear ya saying it”.

You have no hesitation. There is no reluctance to beg for him, not when you’re this close to getting what you thought would always be a wet dream. 

"Please, Negan, I need it!" you beg, your hips bucking against his pants in desperate attempts to get friction. “I’ve wanted you for so long, to fuck me in my bedroom o-or on the dinner table! Fuck, anywhere! I don’t care!”.

That seems to convince him. Reaching down and fumbling with his jeans, Negan has his cock out in record time. He grips the base, stroking it a few times as he lines it up with your soaked pussy. 

The head of his cock presses against your entrance, the tip barely peeking out from between your folds. Negan slowly eases in, allowing you to adjust to his massive size. 

You writhe and moan against him, trying to keep your body relaxed as he enters you. Trying your best to keep eye contact, you let out a string of whimpers as he fills you completely. 

"Damn, I actually fit," he says, stretching you out in a way you’ve never felt before. Negan pulls out carefully, as if testing the waters before plunging back into your needy pussy with vigor.

"Holy fuck, even tighter than I imagined. Built for my dick, aren't you?" he grunts, starting to fuck you hard.

Each brutal thrust of his hips drives his thick cock deeper into your pussy, stretching you wide open. "Fuck, you're so tight it feels like my dick is splitting you in half. Love it. Fucking love it" Negan rambles on and grabs your thighs, spreading them as wide as he can.

"Fuck, Negan... you're so..." you try to speak "ah!”. It’s all too much in the best way possible. That delicious ache of being so thoroughly penetrated, the feeling of absolute fullness with each deep thrust.

"More... fuck me more..." your hips arch up to meet his thrusts, trying to keep up.

Negan angles his hips upwards, hitting that spot inside you over and over as he pounds into you. "Look at me," He growls, "Look at me while I break you in half with my dick. You like that? You like feeling so stuffed?"

“I-I've never been this full before…” you say with teary eyes.

Negan notices your body tensing and shuddering beneath him, your pussy walls starting to flutter wildly around his thick cock. "Holy shit, there it is... Your cunt's squeezin' me like a fuckin' vice. You gonna cum on my dick?".

The pressure is building to an unbearable point, your entire body trembling as your orgasm approaches. Your mind goes blank, unable to answer his question as he hits that perfect spot.

Just as your orgasm hits, Negan feels your pussy clamp down around him like a silken fist. "Holy fuck..." you gasp, back arching as pure pleasure courses through your veins. 

Your entire body quakes, inner muscles milking his cock as you ride out your intense orgasm. You dig your nails into his shoulders, legs trembling uncontrollably.

Negan grunts, fucking you through your intense orgasm with deep, deliberate strokes. He can feel your pussy spasming wildly around his shaft, coating him in your slick arousal. As the last waves shudder through you, he finally pulls out, his cock glistening with in the light.

He lets you stand for a moment but you legs are so wobbly, it’s difficult to support your weight after that intense orgasm.

Before you can even catch your breath, Negan grabs your shoulder roughly and forces you onto your knees. Your body complies in an instant, unable to fight against such force.

Your knees ache as they hit the bathroom floor but that’s the least of your concerns. You look up at him in wide-eyed shock, lips parted as you anticipate him coming all over your face.

"Fuckin' hell, such a pretty face..." He strokes his throbbing cock with his fist, ready to explode.

But instead of aiming for your face, Negan aims his cock at your chest, unleashing a thick, hot load of cum all over your tits. He groans loudly as he paints your breasts with his seed, the warm liquid dripping down between your cleavage and seeping into the fabric of your dress.  

“Next time you’re either swallowing it or you’re getting a facial courtesy of yours truly” he informs you, although the only piece of information you truly savor from that is ‘next time’.

Doing the gentlemanly thing, he grabs some tissue from the toilet paper dispenser and hands it to you. You dab at your chest, knowing the dress is a lost cause and will probably have to be thrown out later. 

“Help me up?” You ask, somewhat shyly once you’re done.

Taking your arm in a much more gentle grip than before, Negan helps you up, subtly looking over your chest to make sure you’ve wiped off all of him. “You feeling alright?” he asks lowly, as if remembering the public place you’re both in. 

You blink, giving yourself a moment to calm, your body still humming with the aftermath. “That was…” you pause, collecting your thoughts, “...wow.”

A soft chuckle rumbles from his chest, and he slips his leather jacket off the stall door. “Well, that’s a better response than I expected,” he says with a smirk, draping the jacket around your shoulders and gently guiding your arms into the sleeves. Without a word about how the jacket nearly swallows you whole, he zips it up, pulling it snug to cover your chest. 

This is a completely different side to the Negan you’ve seen tonight. This is the Negan that gives you a small, reassuring smile after your parents throw some off handed insult your way. 

The two of you stand close, your breaths mingling. Slowly, the space between your faces narrows, as if drawn by some unspoken pull. You gently tilt your head, just enough to bring your lips into alignment with his. 

The kiss is a tender brush. Featherlight and hesitant. It’s the kind of kiss you’d expect before going at it like a bunch of animals… not afterwards.

The kiss lingers, still tasting of warmth and something unspoken. Pulling back just enough to rest your forehead against his, you can feel the soft touch of his lips still tingling on yours. You mutter against his lips, almost sheepishly “Can you drop me home?”.

His lips curl into a quiet smile, a slight glint in his eyes as he nods. “Considering I didn’t get to finish my first glass of whiskey, yeah I should be good,” Negan gives you a playful look.

Unable to help yourself, you give him a small smile. It’s not as seductive or teasing as the ones you have given him previously. In all honestly, it feels like Negan has fucked the seductiveness out of you– if that’s even possible.  

“... So this wasn’t some drunken mistake?” you ask coyly. 

Negan wraps an arm around your shoulders as he unlocks the stall door and carefully guides you out. ”Wear a dress like that the next time I’m at your parents for dinner and you’ll find out” he replies with a smirk. 

Besides his tousled hair, Negan still looks fine. He’s not dishevelled or out of breath or having trouble walking… all things you attribute to yourself.

Negan notices your state too, keeping his arm around you as you subtly leave the bathrooms and head for the exit. If it’s even possible, Negan pulls you closer, guiding you out like a drunk that’s had one too many. His presence is possessive in the gentlest of ways.

You give your friends a knowing look as you both leave, one that says you’ll explain everything later.

The sound of drunken chattering and laughter fades as you step out into the night, the streetlights casting a soft glow on the parking lot. 

When you reach the car, he opens the door for you with a small smirk, his eyes never leaving yours as you slide into the seat.  A few moments later, Negan slides into the driver's seat and the engine rumbles to life. 

The car doesn’t even get out of the parking lot before Negan’s hand finds yours. The ride home is quiet. He doesn’t say much, and neither do you, but the silence between you feels relaxed.

Every now and then, his thumb gently brushes across the back of your hand like a quiet reassurance. He doesn’t mention the contact, simply letting it linger. 

 The soft, rhythmic motion of the car becomes like a lullaby and with every mile, the weight of the night lifts just a little more. Every so often, you glance over at him, his face relaxed. When your eyes meet, he offers a smile and you sleepily return it.

Negan doesn’t pull up directly outside your house. Strategically stopping his car a little down the street, he sighs.

“Hate to say it but I’ll need that jacket back,” he gives you a once over, as if to memorize what his leather jacket looks like on you.

Fiddling with the zipper, you mumble “So I’m supposed to walk in there with a ripped up dress?”.

He laughs at that, shaking his head before reaching into the backseat. “Here, I know it’s dirty but it’s the best I can offer,” Negan hands you a sweatshirt. 

The sweatshirt is faded, its fabric softened from years of use. The sleeves are slightly frayed at the cuffs and a few small holes hint at its age. On the front, several dark oil stains mark where hands have wiped off grease, probably from Negan when working on his motorbike. 

But most importantly, it smells like him.

As you take off his jacket and put on the sweatshirt instead, Negan gives you some privacy and looks away. “Are you coming in too?” You ask, gently placing his jacket on his lap once you’ve changed.

Taking that as his signal to look, Negan gives you a sympathetic smile. “Not tonight, darlin,” he replies “think Lucille would chop my nuts off with your mom’s fancy silver if I showed my face”.

“You two are fighting that bad?”.

Negan shrugs “Same old, same old”.

You try not to fidget with the frayed sleeves of his sweatshirt, not wanting to pick at it right in front of him. 

“And… this?” You focus your attention at simply inspecting the sleeves instead of picking at them “I mean, I know you said it wasn’t a drunken mistake but still… I get it if you wanna pretend like it never happened”.

As much as you wanted quick reassurance, you’re met with silence. 

Negan leans back in his seat, taking his eyes away from yours and looking at the street. Up ahead, he can see the porch light on to your parents house. Although, he doubts Lucille will be leaving anytime soon. She’ll probably stay late, try to wait it out until Negan has drank himself silly and fallen asleep.

“Tonight shouldn’t have happened,” he says with little emotion “It ain’t right. I know it. You know it. Hell, anyone in a ten mile radius would call me all sorts of names if they knew about it…  fucking your friend’s daughter is a whole mess”.

You stay quiet, unsure whether you should just get out now.

“But shit, if you wanted to suck my dick right now, I wouldn’t say no,” he chuckles “it’s a fucked up thing to say but I wouldn’t mind something like this happening again”.

That puts a smile back on your face. Getting ready to leave, you say “Maybe if you come to dinner next time, I will suck your dick”.

Negan watches you with narrowed eyes. Of course you’d be able to make his dick twitch again, making him feel like a teenager that could get it up over and over again. 

“I’ll hold you to that,” he warns as you get out.

“Good,” you hop out of the car, giving him one last flirtatious smirk before going “I hope you do”.

Closing the door, you strut along the pavement, your heels clicking as you go to your house. Walking has never seemed so hard, not only because of your shoe choice but from the aching in your gut and your legs wobbling more than you’d like to admit. 

Still, you try to do your best to walk straight, knowing Negan is watching. 

When you get to the front door, you give Negan one last glance before disappearing inside. He wait a few moments before starting up his car and leaving. 

The first thing you hear is a chorus of polite laughter from the dining room. Great, looks like they’re still in the midst of dinner. Before you have a chance to debate if you could get upstairs without them hearing, you hear your father call out your name.

“Is that you?” He calls out.

Reluctantly, you walk in, lingering by the doorway. Your parents to turn in their dining chairs to face you. Whereas Lucille has you right in her line of view. She offers you a gracious smile as you enter.

“I thought you were staying at Lydia’s tonight,” you mom says, eyeing your sweatshirt and what appears to be a skirt. Thankfully she doesn’t comment on how short it is.

“Eh, Lydia talked things out with her boyfriend so they’re back together again,” you lie casually “you know how they are; fight, break up and make up”.

Lucille casts her gaze down slightly, as if your words hit a little too close to home for her. You shift uncomfortably. 

“There’s some leftovers in the kitchen if you’re hungry” your mom says, blissfully unaware.

“I’m ok,” you give her a smile “I think I might just shower and head to bed early”.

“Alright,” she already waves you off, turning back in her seat “if you’re sure”.

You don’t linger, giving them a polite nod before leaving. It’s only when you turn to leave does Lucille look at you again. 

She’s never believed in coincidences. And she’s never believed you to be into repairing cars. She knows the faint stains on your sweatshirt, mainly because she’s the one who spent hours trying to scrub them out… only for Negan to reward her with new stains on the damn thing. 

Nodding along with whatever it is your father is saying, Lucille’s mind strays further and further from the dinner and to Negan instead. 

Something’s happened. What exactly, she’s not sure. But you’re involved and so is her damned husband.

—————

A/N: thought I’d put in a quick note just to say thanks for reading and apologies for disappearing all month! My family almost got scammed out of 11k (it was insane) but!! More importantly!! I got seriously bad writers block so apologies if this fic is a little choppy, I’m still getting back into my stride!!

[hugheses]

I think there was a bit before this but this is most of it.

Transcript below cut

[Cole]

Yeah, I mean, I think both of our older brothers played together growing up, so I think somewhere along the way we met. But I think I played a tournament in Toronto with the Bulldogs, with Jack, and that was kind of the first time I was like, I think I'm a pretty bad hockey player. But, I mean, the whole family's great.

They love the game, they're so passionate about it, but obviously from any age you knew Jack was going to be something special.

[Amanda]

What was it about the way he played from that young age that you could see that? Because you're not such a bad player yourself, too, you know?

[Cole]

I mean, just the way he skated. He could always handle the puck well, move the puck well, but I think it's just like the skating talent, everybody at that age could kind of move around, but he was like, probably skated the same way he does now, just a little bit slower back then. You know, he's very special, and it's cool to see how far he's come, but for sure always special to watch.

[Amanda]

And I know that you guys speak to each other, you're still really good buddies, right? So tell me what the Hughes brothers are like when they're up at their cottage. I've heard the stories, the boat, the house, all that.

What's it like when you guys get away together, away from this game?

[Cole]

I mean, it's pretty much anything that we can play a game at. I mean, I just moved five minutes away from their place, so it's even worse than it was. I mean, they're just chill guys.

I mean, they like to compete or whatever, but surprisingly really good cooks and guys that take care of themselves. Obviously, it's always fun being on the boat and kind of messing around, but I think at the end of the day, everybody's just looking out for each other and having a good time. But summertime is fun for sure.

[Amanda]

They are very competitive, as I'm sure you are as well. So what brings out the most competitive spirit? Is it pool?

Is it something, you know, water ski- What is it that brings out that summer competitive spirit the most that gets a little heated?

[Cole]

Yeah, I mean, obviously that pool table's gotten the most use I've ever seen out of something. It's a chalkboard with so many names about how many wins they have. It's either that, ping pong.

Otherwise, we're on the boat. But some nights can get a little bit more fun than that. But again, everything's just out of fun.

I think we've got a good group of guys over there, and everybody just likes hanging out with each other.

[Amanda]

And what's Luke like away from the arena? I mean, he's got a real competitive drive too, and I've heard that he is the best at pool. He's shaking his head, by the way, for people who can't see.

Cole is shaking his head. Is he actually the best at pool?

[Cole]

Yeah, I mean, he's tough to beat. I think everybody's chasing him. I mean, I think he's got his own pool stick.

I don't want to confirm that, but I want to say everybody's chasing him down. If you don't know that, he'll probably tell you. No questions asked.

He's also a guy who never stops eating.

[Amanda]

You know his nickname is Rusty, right? Do we know where that originates? I mean, obviously I know it's from Ocean's Eleven and Brad Pitt's character, Rusty, who in every scene he's always snacking on something or whatever, but it's kind of crazy.

[Cole]

I think he's going to fill himself out pretty well moving forward here.

[Amanda]

And then just as friends, what do you enjoy most about competing against them?

[Cole]

I mean, honestly, they're really special at what they do. They love what they do. It's pretty cool to be able to get to train with them and kind of compete against the best, and that's kind of what you want.

So to be around them, golf with them, do whatever, it's definitely good to just stay competitive in the offseason, but also have guys like that you can lean on and talk to throughout the year.

[Amanda]

All right, we'll do this quickly. Out of the three of you, we'll leave Quinn out of this because he's not involved here. So out of the three of you, who is the best wakeboarder?

[Cole]

Jack.

[Amanda]

Who drives the boat the best?

[Cole]

Probably Jack, too. Luke's pretty good, but I think everybody's more comfortable when he's not behind the wheel. Do you have your boating license? Are you able to?

I've driven their boat a couple times, yeah. I've got to get one for myself, but I probably trust myself more than Luke.

[Amanda]

Best baseball player, if you play?

[Cole]

Me, 100%.

[Amanda]

You?

[Cole]

Yeah, we used to play in high school. I know they all played growing up, but for sure me. We'll have to settle that this summer in a batting cage or something.

[Amanda]

Do you guys play basketball at all together?

[Cole]

Oh, yeah, we used to play two-on-two, one-on-one. If a guy gets out of hand, I think me and Alex Turcotte won a two-v-two this summer. We beat Luke, which is surprising.

Getting him down low, it's tough to defend, but you can get him moving on the outside. You can't keep up. He for sure got his fair share of points on me down low, which is not fun.

[Amanda]

Two-on-two, who is Luke? Is it Luke and Jack? Is it Luke and Quinn?

[Cole]

I don't know who he was with. I mean, we have a huge group, like Larkin, Norris. Glendening, too.

We had a bunch of guys that were just like dogs in a paint. It was crazy. Me and Turcs won, and I was like, there's no way we just did that.

We needed to be on the shelf for two weeks afterwards. That was probably the most sweat I've ever had today, for sure.

[Amanda]

Lastly, Ellen has told me this story, how when they were growing up, that Ellen and Jim used to tell Quinn and Jack, please just try and pass the puck to Luke once in a while. Let the guy do it once in a while. I know you're laughing there.

What does that tell you about these brothers, that family? Does that not check out when it comes to Luke and the boys?

[Cole]

Yeah, I mean, obviously, being the younger brother, I'm a younger brother, too. That's just how it is. But now I think everybody's old enough that it's kind of getting out of the question a little bit.

But he for sure is always the last one for stuff. I feel like I always hear Ellen kind of tell him, just get Luke in on something. Get Luke involved a little bit more.

But Luke's great, a really good human being, to be honest with you. Definitely needs a little bit more respect, I think. And I'll give it to him this summer, for sure.

But I think he's being able to move into the house this year. Now that he's played a couple more games, so that's huge.

[Amanda]

Thanks, Cole. Really appreciate it.

[reingkings]

Gi-hun can’t hold grudges, and what that means for Inhun/457.

I was thinking of this the other day. I myself don’t consider myself to be the type of person who holds grudges, but looking at Gi-hun I feel like he puts me to shame.

Disclaimer: I don’t hate the following characters this is just an analysis.

Example A: Sae-byeok. We all love her in the fandom, but if you think about it– Gi-hun only knew her a couple of days. The first time they met, she stole from him causing him a lot of trouble. When they met again, she didn’t even apologize and was generally rude. And yet, Gi-him was willing to put his life on the line to defend her from 101. And then, he was willing to fight Sang-woo for her. He goes on to take care of her brother for her.

Example B: Speaking of Sang-woo, he betrayed Gi-hun pretty early on during dalgona. I think to some extent Gi-hun knew this but he still let it go. He only got angry when Sang-woo pushed the other player during the bridge game, then with Sae-byeok. And yet, even in the end when Sang-woo tried to kill him (and stabbed him through the hand) and he needed the money for his mother’s treatment. But he was willing to leave the money so they could both leave alive.

Example C: The loan shark. Dude literally beat him up, humiliated him, and made him sign an agreement to sell his organs. And yet, in season 2, Gi-huh is willing to team up with them and pay them to help find the Salesman.

Example D: Jung-bae. Jung-bae is definitely another favorite, and I think we definitely have a bias towards him, but objectively he was not the greatest friend. For one, he was the one who introduced Gi-hun to horse racing, precipitating Gi-hub’s money troubles. When Gi-hun needed his help, he also didn’t lend Gi-hun money for his mother’s treatment (I don’t think he necessarily was to blame for her death, but it is a huge disappointment). They fell out of contact and reunited in the game, where he betrayed Gi-hun again by voting O. This is particularly cold-hearted when you think about the fact that the money pool would only only climb if more players die the next game. That’s what the O’s bank on. Yet, Gi-hun was never able to stay angry, and trusted him to the very end.

It kind of shows that Gi-hun can’t really distinguish from good or bad, and he is uniquely soft-hearted. If someone kicked while he was down, he would probably apologize.

To someone like In-ho, who pretty much seems to be the opposite of Gi-hun in every possible way, I think this kind of attitude makes him angry. But I think at the same time it’s what causes his obsession. In a self-indulgent evil world with bored rich people, organ traffickers, and cannibals (probably) — a person like Gi-hun is an impossibility.

Therefore, in order to satisfy his curiosity, In-ho has to test the boundaries of Gi-hun’s humanity. He’s willing to indulge Gi-hun without letting him escape. (For example, I don’t think it’s a coincidence that the Salesman was at the airport when Gi-hun was ready to leave for America. This has In-ho written all over it). He lets Gi-hun join the games, but he won’t let him keep the tracker. He lets the players vote each round, but ensures the X’s are never the majority. He lets Gi-hun stage a rebellion, but won’t let him succeed.

And yet, In-ho would rather let Gi-hun think he died than reveal to Gi-hun that he is the Frontman – arguably something that would hurt him even more.

Is this subconsciously a way out that he’s leaving himself? He knows Gi-hun could forgive him being a coward, because Gi-hun is capable of forgiving anything.

Or is it something worse. I think if you meet someone that can forgive anything, then the most special existence to that person — isn’t it the one person they are capable of hating?

[cherrywineisawaltz]

MINORS DNI

NOTES: fuck me Logan PLEASE. As always, I need him, so! Very short as always

WARNINGS: car sex, nicknames, Logan knows who you are before the deed but you don’t, getting folded in half by Logan (hope ur flexible), porn (technically) no plot?

Dofp!Logan is coming to find you the second he gets to his young selfs body. Okay, maybe not the second, he does still have to get Charles and Hank, but there’s a day in between events, where nothing happens and he’s not needed for the sake of the universe and he takes it. And when Charles and Hank ask where he’s going, he just tells them he has someone he needs to see.

Honestly it’s a little too easy to find you. And it’s just as easy to get you all folded up in the back of the Buick, his cock sheathed inside you with your heels scraping the roof, head nearly hitting the car window with each thrust. He was always too good at getting you right where he wanted. You didn’t even know each other yet, no, you and Logan don’t meet for at least five more years, but you’re younger, looser, just a bit sluttier and you’re not exactly banging your hands on his chest after he asks to take you out back after an hour of laying it on heavy at the bar you were working at.

“Look at you, baby, so fucking pretty—mmph—and all for me, isn’t that right?” You nod quickly, skin sheening with sweat, clawing at his shoulders while you’re absolutely gushing around his cock. You might have been embarrassed putting out so easily if every word coming out of his mouth didn’t send a warm tingle down to your cunt.

Your ankles bob on either side of his head where he’s got his eyes craned down to look at where he’s pushing in and out of you, like he’s mesmerized. He pulls out half way, then pushes in half way, just to fuck with you—at least that’s what you think. You have no idea how much he’s savoring the sight of your pussy wrapping around him, how twitchy and pretty she is. He laughs when you writhe and buck beaneath him, but he’s got your hips pinned down to the seat, and god this guy is fucking strong. He growls—fucking growls—when he finally bottoms out, and he looks at you like he could absolutely eat you alive, “So perfect for me, just wanna feel good don’t you, sweetheart?”

It’s hard to answer, especially since he’s sinking over you now, bringing your legs with him, ankles on his shoulders while he’s leaning over you driving even deeper than before. The tinge of pain of being nearly entirely folded in half is lost in every thrust that knock’s repeatedly into the soft spongy spot inside you. His breath fans over your face, and you think he might kiss you but he just looks at you, and then turns his head to kiss the side of your ankle, “Sorry sweetheart,” he groans, “If I kiss you—mmh—there’s no way in hell I’m leaving ya.”

You think to ask what he means, but then he’s got a thumb on your clit and his cock is shoving impossibly deeper, and every one of your thoughts is immediately leaving your pretty little head.

[imujings]

kwon soonyoung and i like me better by lauv :D

midnight into morning coffee burning through the hours talking damn, i like me better when i'm with you

wc <1k. warnings unedited as hell i’m so sorry, can be read as platonic or romantic! jay's musings where is MY late night highway drive with kwon soonyoung to who knows where, giggling about life and getting instant coffee from a convenience store??? (sorry i get very emotional about ksy he means so so much to me)

It is way too late for Kwon Soonyoung to be pulling up in front of your apartment, a crooked smile playing on his face and bass boosted RNB leaking from his car windows—but then again, the man never seemed one for being predictable during after hours.

You hop into the passenger seat with no hesitation, grinning. The worn out hoodie you had carelessly thrown on barely five minutes before is comfortable against your skin. It’s a little half past two in the morning, a yawn passing your lips, and Soonyoung annoyingly revs his engine before speeding out of your quaint neighborhood.

“Anywhere in mind?”

The roar of the car engine, coupled with the beat of the current Lauv song on, has you vibrating in your seat. You tug on the strings of your hoodie. “Let’s get coffee. I’m sleepy.”

He laughs as he pulls onto the highway. The night sky stretches out before you two, stars glittering through the horrid light pollution. The concept of cosmic beings still radiating their energy through humanity’s mistakes reminds you a little of you and Soonyoung’s relationship. It puts a smile on your face.

“Oh?” Soonyoung’s tone is teasing. “If we get coffee, you’ll be up until 8am and won’t wake until 5pm. Who’s supposed to go to the gym with me then?”

Crossing your arms, you lean back into the cushioned leather chair with a huff.

“Gym rat,” comes your affectionate jeer. “I’ll go to the gym with you tomorrow night. Easy solution.”

He laughs again, pressing on the gas, and your chest feels lighter.

The convenience store lights are bright; you have to squint a little when opening the doors. Soonyoung trails behind you, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings with a soft hum. He didn’t take the two of you to your usual convenience store, musing it would be a ‘fun adventure’ to go somewhere random instead.

It’s almost comical, how the two of you sidestep and move about each other as if in a dance only the other knows. You peruse the aisles with no destination in mind, twirling around to show Soonyoung your latest discoveries like a kid in a candy store, and he excitedly receives each one with little taps of his sneakers on the floor.

There’s a clerk in the row containing the instant coffee. They glance at the pair of you, under eyes prominent, nodding once before disappearing off to who knows where. Soonyoung tugs you along by the sleeve of your hoodie to gawk at the different brands of caffeine goodiness.

“Do you really think it matters which one we get?” you raise an eyebrow at him.

He gives you an incredulous look. “Do you or do you not want to experience a good caffeine high?”

You drink him in, standing underneath the fluorescent convenience store lights, hood up and baggy on his head. His eyes, the color of rich dark chocolate, are shining and leave you a little breathless. Soonyoung appears so… naturally here, as if he wouldn’t even dare to want to be anywhere else except beside you, arguing over what type of instant coffee to get at three in the morning.

“I’m entrusting my fate to you, Mr. Coffee Expert!”

Soonyoung giggles at your dedicated salute, returning the gesture with a determined look in his eyes. You watch as he pours over the different colorful packagings before delicately picking two off the shelf—they’re green and have iconography of tiny coffee mugs on them.

He dramatically bows, showcasing them to you in the palms of his hands. “My pick, your liege.”

You stifle a chuckle and swat him away. “I’ll have your head if this doesn’t suit my tastes.”

The man whips his head up, his lips forming a small ‘o’ before hastily turning around and making his way to the counter. You follow closely behind, this time doing nothing to hide your laugh.

You aren’t really sure how long you spend at the convenience store. At one point, after the purchases had been made, the two of you moved from inside the building to sitting in the front of Soonyoung’s car.

The styrofoam cup filled with convenience store water and instant coffee powder is still hot to the touch—even after allowing it to cool off for awhile—forcing you to give your hands relief by carefully balancing the scalding cup in your lap. Soonyoung, on the other hand, is sipping away like it’s a glass of cold water in the desert.

“You’re going to end up having more of a crash than I am,” you scoff, eying the way he now has to tilt his head back to finish off the drink. “What happened to gym plans later?”

He only shrugs. “We can always go later tonight like you said. Become night owls or something, like Jihoon.”

You hum in thought. The sky is taking on a lightened shade of blue, indicating the sun was due for its arrival soon in the next hour or so. Soonyoung cranks up the volume of the music to hear the chorus better; it’s the song from earlier, Lauv’s voice cutting through the comfortable lull.

As long as it’s with you, you want to say, I’m cool with anything. I feel better when I’m with you.

You take a long sip of your drink. The taste burns your tongue, but you barely feel it, too overrun by late-night emotions.

“As long as you don’t fall asleep on me,” is what you end up saying in substitute.

wanna queue a song?

[missarchive]

OK, I’m finally gonna submit and ask because like live in stalking your blog forever lol and i’m obsessed!

hotch hurt/comfort where bau!reader has a terrible day bc like some cop made fun of her and it got really under her skin? (you can make it rlly sad) established relationship? up to you

tysm!!!

-🎀

cw; misogyny, harassment in the workplace, kissing, big mean scary hotch (he's an absolute softie), lots of comfort

an; thank you for your request <3 ive been on such a hotchner kick lately so i've got a few more hotch fics up my sleeves after this one

wc; 1.5k

“What we know so far is that the unsub is male, most likely in his mid to late thirties. He lives a very ordinary life,” you say, glancing around the room as you deliver your profile. Your eyes lock briefly with Aaron’s, who gives a subtle nod of encouragement. “He was subject to bullying in high school, likely due to being socially awkward or standing out in some way. This has led to deep-seated insecurities and an inability to maintain long-term relationships. His current behaviour indicates an attempt to regain control and dominance he feels he was deprived of.”

As you continue with your analysis, movement in the corner of the room draws your attention. An officer leans toward his companion, muttering something under his breath that earns a chuckle. His eyes drag over you with an unprofessional intensity, and his smirk lingers, making your stomach churn with unease. You furrow your brows slightly but push the distraction aside, refocusing on the case at hand.

The meeting stretches on, but finally, it concludes. Your fellow agents begin filtering out of the room, exchanging quiet remarks as they leave, while the remaining officers follow suit. You stay behind, methodically removing photos and notes from the whiteboard, organizing them into a neat stack.

The sound of your heels tapping against the floor fills the empty space as you turn, only to pull up short when you nearly collide with someone. Your pulse stutters as you recognise the same officer from before, standing too close, his expression dark with something you can’t quite place.

“Oh! I’m so sorry, I didn’t realise anyone was still here,” you say, stepping back instinctively.

He doesn’t budge. Instead, his lips curl into a sneer. “So, who are you filling in for today?”

Your frown deepens. “I’m not sure what you mean, sir. This is my job.”

His eyes narrow, and he takes a deliberate step forward, forcing you back against the whiteboard. “You don’t have to be so coy, doll,” he says, voice dripping with condescension. “Come on, who’d you suck off to get here?”

The crude words hit you like a slap. Your breath hitches, and you instinctively press your palms flat against the board behind you, trying to create distance. “Sir, I’m not sure this is an appropriate discussion to be having,” you say, voice tightening, your eyes darting toward the door.

Before you can react further, a sudden movement to your left makes you start. A firm hand grips the officer’s shoulder and wrenches him backward with force. “That’s enough,” Aaron’s voice slices through the tension like a knife.

The officer stumbles slightly but rights himself, his face twisting in surprise and then indignation as he looks up at Aaron’s imposing figure. Aaron steps forward, placing himself between you and the officer, his dark eyes cold and unwavering.

“What the hell, man—” the officer starts, straightening his shoulders.

“You’re done here,” Aaron interrupts, his voice calm but lethal. “If I ever see you speak to anyone on my team like that again, you’ll be answering to much more than just me. Is that clear?”

The officer’s mouth opens and closes, but the weight of Aaron’s glare pins him in place. He mutters something under his breath before turning on his heel and stalking out of the room.

As the door swings shut behind him, you exhale a shaky breath, still pressed against the board. Aaron turns to you, his expression softening slightly. “Are you okay?”

You nod, though your hands are trembling slightly at your sides. “Yeah... Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks.”

Aaron studies you for a moment longer, his dark eyes searching yours with a tenderness that makes your breath hitch. He steps closer, his voice soft but firm. “You could have come and got me.”

You swallow hard, your chest tightening at the sincerity in his words. “I know,” you whisper, offering him a small, tired smile. “I just... I didn’t want to make it a big deal.”

Aaron’s expression darkens slightly, a flicker of frustration crossing his face—not at you, but at the situation. He shakes his head gently. “It is a big deal. You shouldn’t have to brush it off.”

You open your mouth to protest, but he’s already reaching for you, his hand resting at the small of your back, guiding you out of the precinct without another word.

Aaron’s hand remained steady on your back as he guided you outside, the crisp night air rushing to meet you. It was quiet here, the hum of the precinct fading into the background, leaving only the sound of your uneven breathing and the faint rustle of leaves in the distance. He stopped near the corner of the building, turning to face you fully. His hands moved to your upper arms, grounding you in his presence.

“Talk to me,” Aaron said gently, his voice breaking through the haze of doubt clouding your mind.

You shook your head, biting the inside of your cheek to keep the frustration—or was it shame?—from bubbling over. “I’m fine,” you lied, forcing the words out even though you could feel them falling flat. “I just need to move on. It’s not worth—”

“Stop.” His tone was calm but firm, and it made you look up at him, your eyes meeting his. There was no anger there, no disappointment—only concern and something else you couldn’t quite name. “It is worth talking about. You are worth talking about.”

The lump in your throat grew, and you looked away, your gaze fixing on a crack in the pavement. “I shouldn’t let it get to me,” you murmured. “But… maybe he’s right.”

Aaron’s brows knit together, his hands tightening slightly on your arms. “What are you talking about?”

You shrugged, trying to swallow down the sting of the words that had been hurled at you back in the conference room. “Maybe I’m not good enough to be here,” you admitted quietly. “Maybe I’m just pretending I belong. I mean, if people like him think I’m a joke, what if they’re right?”

The silence that followed felt heavier than anything he could have said. When you finally looked back at Aaron, his expression was resolute, his dark eyes locking onto yours with unwavering intensity.

“They’re not right,” he said, each word deliberate. “And you know that.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but he stepped closer, his hands moving to cradle your face with a gentleness that made your chest ache. “You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t good enough,” he continued, his voice steady but edged with something close to frustration. “You’ve earned your place, and no one—no one—has the right to question that.”

The tears you’d been holding back threatened to spill over, but you bit them down, shaking your head slightly. “It’s hard not to question myself when people like him look at me like I don’t belong.”

Aaron exhaled slowly, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks. “People like him don’t matter,” he said softly. “You do. Your work speaks for itself, and anyone who can’t see that isn’t worth your time.”

Your hands came up to grip his wrists, grounding yourself in the warmth of his touch. “It’s just… exhausting,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “Having to prove myself over and over again. Sometimes it feels like no matter what I do, it’ll never be enough.”

Aaron’s face softened, and he leaned down slightly, his forehead resting against yours. “I know it’s exhausting,” he murmured. “And I wish I could take that weight off your shoulders. But you’re not alone in this. You have me. You have the team. We see you, and we know exactly what you’re capable of.”

You closed your eyes, letting his words sink in, letting the steady cadence of his voice soothe the storm inside you. After a long moment, you nodded, your grip on his wrists loosening. “Thank you,” you said quietly. “I… I needed to hear that.”

Aaron pulled back just enough to meet your eyes again, his expression softening even further. “You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for,” he said, his voice filled with quiet conviction. Then, without warning, he leaned in and kissed you, his lips warm and reassuring against yours. It wasn’t hurried or forceful—it was steady, grounding, a promise in itself.

When he finally pulls away, his eyes search yours, as if silently making sure you’re really okay. “I’ll always be here,” he promises softly.

You smile, a real one this time, feeling lighter than you have all day. “I know.”

Aaron presses another kiss to your forehead, lingering there for a moment before wrapping his arms around you, holding you tightly against his chest. You sink into him, letting yourself feel safe, letting yourself believe that with him, you’re never alone.

“Let’s go home,” he murmurs against your hair.

“Yeah,” you whisper, lacing your fingers with his. “Home sounds perfect.”

He squeezes your hand gently, leading you to the car, his presence a steady, comforting weight beside you. And in this moment, you know you’re exactly where you belong.

taglist: @thegloryofliterature @spencellelvrr @reidsstargirl @shiningjustforreid

[absolutebl]

This Week in BL - There's 3 Good Shows Holding a Ton of BL Cr*p on their Shoulders

Organized, in each category, with ones I'm enjoying most at the top.

Jan 2025 Week 4

Ongoing Series - Thai

Your Sky (Sun iQIYI) ep 10 of 12 - So darn adorable1 I love the whole shopping trip thing: Mom out with the gay boys is great.

GIVE ME MOAR OF LEE AND HIS PHI. Pretty please?

ThamePo (Fri YT) ep 7 of 12 - I love the way Thame is basically like, in my head we are totally dating and acts that way with Po. Yet he hasn't actually discussed it with the poor man. Thame is such a pouty babygirl. Jun is a little shit. All in all, this installment was a little slow but I remain charmed. 

The Boy Next World (Sun IQIYI) ep 3 of 10 - I’m actually quite enjoying this. I really do just wanna spend most of my time with this pair watching them kiss (please don't make Noeul act mmm'kay?). So I’m really glad we’re on episode three and the show seems invested in supplying us with kisses already. Thank goodness.  

The Heart Killers (Weds Gaga) ep 9 of 12 - mostly I just feel sorry for Fadel. boy is so tired of everybody else’s gay drama queening. 

Perfect 10 Liners (Sun YT) ep 13 of 24 - I actually like how they are portraying Yotha’s character in this (with relation to his mother). It’s pretty authentic to that kind of situation and personality type, I enjoy that. I also like that Wa dumped Klao for being too jealous. good healthy decision, should have stayed that way.

Sangmin Dinneaw (Sun iQIYI) ep 4 of 10 - it just keeps moving through absurdist and ridiculous to gratuitously sexual to mind numbingly dull. I never know where I am with this show. At least it’s not boring... until it so much is. Also my cancer danger signaling is going off hard core. Beware.

I'm like one of those dogs that can sense and epileptic fit, only for death in BL.

Flirt Milk (Sat YT) ep 1 or 10 - Star hunter is back this time with terrible facial hair. I’m putting it on the no fly list right up there with wigs. Apparently Thailand and fake hair are mutually exclusive. The lead ingenue looks a little bit like Yim, and I think they mean to give him a similar personality to Yim’s usual characters, but frankly I found him insipid, dim, and boring. Literally every other surrounding character and couple-to-be is more interesting than the mains. The linguistic bit was cute tho. 

Ossan‘s Love Thailand (Mon YouTube) ep 3 of 12 - heavy sigh.

Fourever You (Thurs YT) ep 17 end? - supposedly still coming

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

When it Rains it Pours (Japan Thurs Gaga) ep 2-3 of 10 - I’m enjoying these second 2 eps a lot better than the first ep. It’s leaning into the premise and I like a quazi Cyrano de Bergerac thing. It’s got that chewy Japanese “who knows where this is going?” seasoning. But one thing we can be sure of is Japan can always veer sideways given the right pothole. Or should I say plothole? Anygay, I like the way they’re different with each other via text than in person, I like that we’ve already had some language discussion and negotiation, I like the cool banter between these men. And they are men. I like how very adult this is. I’m interested to see where it’s going. Color me suitably intrigued, in a refined manner.

Eternal Butler (Taiwan Fri Gaga) eps 7 of 12 - Ooo I love the side couple!!!! They are soooooo cute. Kissing to seal a debt? Adorable. Also, yes please keep Ever 4 shirtless forever. I applaud his design, functionality, ans aesthetic choice. Rah rah rah. More manual labor in BL! Pun intended.

Impression of Youth (Taiwan Weds Viki) eps 3 of 9 - I like the secondary couple a lot more than the primary. Shocker.

Teenager Judge (Vietnam Sat YT) ep 16 of ?? - I bit the bullet and finally watched the 2 parts. It really did not need to occupy that much of my time. I did watch it on 1.5, which is not normally what I do with foreign language shows, but I’ve lost patience with this damn thing. I didn’t actually mind the student teacher side pairing, I didn’t like it either. I thought this was the final episode, and then I saw that there was an 2 part ep 17 announced. So i guess not. Have mercy.

Oh yeah and trigger warning all round.

It's airing but......

I Will Turn Back Time (China Gaga) 6 eps - It’s Chinese, no idea if it will end well or not. But it’s the stepbrothers trope. Still, I’m not gonna watch it until it’s done.

Winter Is Not The Death of Summer (Thai) - It's done. Did anyway watch it? Thoughts?

In Case You Missed it

End of year wraps are here!

2024 Trend Report

MY BEST & WORST BLs of 2024

Best Kisses (and sex scenes) of 2024

BL's 2024 Quirky Awards

2024 Awards - Quick Picks

Next Week Looks Like This:

2025 Line Up

BL Announced for 2025 - PART 1

BL Announced for 2025 - PART 2

20 BLs Announced for 2025 That I'm Really Excited About

GMMTV 2025 Line Up - My Totally Biased and Wildly Flawed Feels

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENT

Love a lift and kiss. Show me your muscles by picking another boy up and smooching him silly. (Your Sky)

(last week)

The tag BLigade: @doorajar @solitaryandwandering @my-rose-tinted-glasses @babymbbatinygirl @babymbbatinygirl @isisanna-blog @mmastertheone @pickletrip @aliceisathome @urikawa-miyuki @tokillamonger @sunflower-positiiivity @rocketturtle4 @blglplus @anythinggoesintheshire @everlightly @renafire @mestizashinrin @bl-bam-beyond @small-dark-and-delicious @saezurumurmurs

[szariahwroteit]

Doll House: A Jude Bellingham + Orginal Character Erotic Series.

18+ Minors DNI

Chapter 13

Although Jude valued the opinions of his loved ones, the playful teasing from Marcus didn’t possess the bite it used to.

He’d mindlessly told Marcus that he had dropped Tori at a doctor’s appointment one morning before training. Honestly, he hadn’t put the same thought into it as his best friend did; that morning, she had stayed over at his place. He had time to kill, and she had somewhere to be.

Jude didn't mind his brother's playful remarks and had no issue reminding him that, regardless of the person he had in his life, he was still very much a single man.

However, things took a less playful turn when the following Thursday arrived. Marcus and his girlfriend Charlotte had come to spend the weekend in Madrid to watch Jude and his teammates as they took on rivals Barcelona. With them, they had brought Anastasia, a friend of Charlotte’s who was previously familiar with Jude.

Letting out a breath he’d been holding as he sat on the edge of his bed, Jude pinched the bridge of his nose as his mind ran wild with thoughts of Tori.

“What am I supposed to tell her?” Jude asked Marcus as he opened his eyes, his voice tinged with frustration. Marcus leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, an amused glint in his eyes.

“Honestly, I didn't mean to put you in hot water like this. But when you introduced me to Tori in Dubai, I thought she was just your piece for the trip. Had I known it was more, I would have never brought Anastasia along.” Marcus snickered, a hint of remorse creeping into his tone.

“She means more than that,” Jude replied sharply, a flash of irritation sparking in his chest. He instantly regretted the bite in his voice but kept his eyes locked on Marcus, who raised an eyebrow.

“Oh? So, you’re telling me you and Tori are… more?” Marcus pressed, his voice lacking the amusement it once held. “When you told me you were single over the phone, I figured Anastasia would be a welcomed surprise.”

“I am single, but the things we’ve been doing… the way we've been moving, I'd be doing Tori dirty by entertaining anyone else,” Jude divulged.

“The way you've been moving?” Marcus repeated.

“The appointment I took her to was for her to start birth control,” Jude blurted out, his gaze flicking to the floor as he felt the heat creep into his cheeks. He could practically hear the gears turning in Marcus's mind.

“Fuck,” Marcus said slowly, processing the information. “You're really feeling her then. This isn't just some fling?”

Jude sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s not. I care about her, and it’s becoming more than just physical.” He hesitated, his thoughts tumbling together unceremoniously.

“Look,” Marcus said, straightening up, the teasing tone dropping altogether. “We can get Anastasia to stay in a hotel for the weekend, but she is still going to be in Madrid with us. She is going to cross paths with Tori continuously.”

Jude leaned back on the bed, feeling the weight of Marcus's words settle over him like an unwelcome blanket. The thought of Tori and Anastasia interacting filled him with a mix of anxiety and dread. He had known Anastasia sporadically during their former years, her sharp wit and playful demeanor often leaving an impression, but their connection fizzled out over time. Since meeting Tori, Jude’s attention hadn't been anywhere else, regardless of titles.

"What do you suggest then?" Jude asked, running his fingers through his hair in frustration. The room echoed with uncertainty.

Marcus pushed off from the doorframe, stepping closer. “Look, just be upfront with Tori. If you’re serious about her, let her know what’s happening. You don’t want her to feel blindsided or like you have no regard for her feelings.”

Jude nodded, the weight of Marcus's advice settling heavily on his shoulders. "You're right. I just... I didn't plan on this. Tori isn't my girlfriend, but she is where my head is and a priority of mine," His voice trailed off, uncertainty creeping in.

“Then make it official in your head first,” Marcus advised, his tone steady and encouraging. “You don’t have to label everything right now. Just be honest about how you feel and where you stand. If she knows where your head is, there should be no trouble.”

Jude exhaled, mentally wrestling with the idea. Would laying his cards on the table only complicate things further? Would it change the light, free-flowing nature of what they shared? Yet a small voice reminded him that avoiding the conversation wouldn’t help.

“Theoretically, but she's going to be here soon, and when she turns up, a girl that I used to fuck is going to be sharing space with the girl I am with. Tori is understanding, not a pushover.” Jude spoke, the tension in his voice revealing the swirl of emotions churning inside him.

Marcus considered what he said momentarily, his expression shifting from playful to severe. “Look, it’s going to be awkward, but if she’s as understanding as you say, then she’ll handle it. Being upfront is the only way to avoid misunderstandings. Trust me—communication is everything. If you want me to, I can explain that this was on me.”

Jude felt Marcus's seriousness resonate within him. Communication had always been essential in relationships, yet he had taken the easy road, gliding along on the surface without diving deeper into what was unfolding with Tori. His heart pounded with the possibilities that awaited—both enticing and terrifying.

“Yeah, but what if I mess this up?” Jude sighed, searching Marcus’s face for answers that would put him at ease. “It’s just… this is all new territory for me. I genuinely enjoy what Tori and I have; I don't want to fuck it up.”

Marcus stepped forward, placing a reassuring hand on Jude's shoulder. “You won’t mess it up unless you don't communicate. Trust your instincts, Jude. You’ve got this. You know Tori better than anyone. If she’s as special to you as you say, then you owe it to her to be honest.”

Jude nodded slowly, allowing Marcus's words to sink in. He could feel the weight of responsibility pressing down, and with it, a fierce determination began to bubble up within him. He cared about Tori more than he had admitted to himself, even in the solitude of his bedroom.

“Okay,” Jude finally said, his voice steadier. “I’ll talk to her when she gets here. It might be messy, but I’d rather deal with the mess than leave anything to chance.”

“Good,” Marcus replied with a nod. “And hey, if it helps, I’ll look into a hotel for Anastasia to stay at. Charlotte and I will take her there once we figure everything out.”

Jude felt a wave of relief wash over him at the thought of his friends intervening, easing the tension that had begun to unravel him. "Thanks, man. I appreciate it. Just thinking about Tori and Anastasia in the same room sends my stomach into knots."

"Understandable," Marcus said with a sympathetic smile. "But you know Tori well enough to handle it. Just be honest, and the rest will fall into place."

Jude leaned back on the bed, staring at the ceiling as his thoughts drifted to Tori. He could still feel the warmth of her body next to his, the laughter they shared over late-night snacks, and the way she challenged him to be better both on and off the field. It felt different with her—more substantial than any casual fling. He needed her to know how much he valued what they had built.

After a moment of silence, Marcus clapped Jude on the shoulder. “I’ll let you have some time to gather your thoughts. Just call me if you need anything, okay?”

“Yeah, thanks. I’ll definitely take you up on that.”

As Marcus left the room, Jude's heart raced with anticipation and anxiety. He pulled out his phone, glancing at the time. Tori would arrive any minute now, and as ready as he was to lay his cards on the table, he couldn't deny the nerves that swirled inside of him.

He had already ironed things out where Anastasia was concerned. She knew she had been invited by mistake, and despite his look of embarrassment as he explained he had someone in his life now, she had been gracious, understanding his position. It was a good start but only heightened Jude's awareness of the delicate situation.

The anticipation felt like a weight pressing down on him with each passing moment. What if Tori had other expectations? What if she saw their relationship differently? He couldn’t shake the doubt but knew he had to deal with things head-on. He couldn't afford to leave things up to interpretation.

The sound of his doorbell ringing through his spacious home made his heart leap into his throat. There it was—his chance to face the music. The weight of his indecision felt almost unbearable as he took a deep breath and went downstairs to the door, his mind racing with thoughts of what to say.

He opened the door, and there stood Tori, a smile breaking across her face as she spotted him. She looked radiant, her hair cascading over her shoulders, her eyes shining with a warmth that eased and intensified his nerves.

“Hey!” she smiled sweetly, stepping across the threshold and into Jude’s arms.

Jude enveloped her in a warm embrace, pulling her close and savoring the familiar scent of her hair—a mix of coconut and something sweet, truly Tori. For a moment, he lost himself in the comfort of her presence, letting her laughter wash over him. It was a fleeting distraction from the weight of the conversation looming ahead.

“Hey! You made it,” he replied, his grin matching hers. “You look incredible.”

“Thanks!” she giggled softly. “I just pulled on the first thing I could find when I got home from rehearsal.”

Jude's heart swelled at her radiant smile, but the thrill of the moment was tempered by the conversation he knew he had to initiate. He wanted nothing more than to relish their easy banter and the tangible connection between them. Yet, the gravity of his unspoken feelings weighed heavily on him.

Stepping back slightly, he gestured for her to come inside. “Tori, we need to talk.”

The lightness in Tori’s expression shifted to one of curiosity, her brows knitting together in gentle concern. “Talk? About what?”

Jude closed the door behind them, feeling an electric tension settle in the room. He needed to keep his tone casual, but the weight of his words felt monumental. “It’s... about us and the weekend ahead.”

Tori tilted her head, taking a step closer, her gaze searching his face for answers. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” he reassured her quickly, wanting to dispel any sense of unease. “It’s just that Marcus and Charlotte brought along Anastasia, and I didn’t realize how complicated it could get.”

He watched Tori’s face, her expression shifting as she processed the information. “Anastasia? Who is she...?”

“She’s a friend of Marcus’ and someone I—” Jude hesitated, searching for a way to frame it delicately.

“And she's here in your house?” Tori asked cautiously.

Jude nodded, feeling a rush of heat creep into his cheeks. “Yeah, but it’s not what you’re thinking. We had a history, but it’s... it’s not the same anymore. I just wanted to be upfront with you because I care about where we’re headed.”

Tori’s brow furrowed as she stepped back, crossing her arms as if to shield herself from what she was perceiving. Jude could see the surprise and confusion play across her beautiful features, and he felt an immediate pang of regret for springing this on her.

“Okay. So, Anastasia is staying with you for the weekend, too?” she prompted, her voice laced with uncertainty.

“Marcus is sorting a hotel for her,” Jude replied, his heart pounding at the building tension in the air. “But she will be around this weekend.”

Tori took a deep breath, her eyes narrowing slightly as she processed his words. “I appreciate you being honest with me, Jude, but why didn’t you mention her earlier? I wouldn't have come here.”

Jude swallowed hard, feeling the weight of her disappointment. “I want you here, Tori,” he said, his voice steady but low. “I didn’t know she was coming over with Marcus and Charlotte until they landed earlier.”

Tori regarded him with a mix of incredulity and concern, her eyes searching his for sincerity. “Do you have feelings for her? I mean… she’s from your past. What if she’s trying to rekindle something with you?”

“No!” Jude immediately countered, desperation creeping into his voice. “It’s not like that at all, I promise you. Anastasia and I have history, but it’s ancient history. I haven’t thought about her or anyone else in that way since you came into my life; she’s been nothing more than a past chapter.”

Tori’s gaze softened slightly, but the tension still hung thick in the space between them. “Then why does it feel like you're gearing me up to walk into some kind of competition?” The vulnerability in her question cut deeper than Jude anticipated.

Jude's ex had turned up unannounced with his best friend and his girlfriend. Regardless of what Jude had to say, their lives were obviously intertwined.

Jude felt the weight of Tori’s words settle heavily in the air, the silence between them stretching uncomfortably. “It’s not a competition,” he insisted, his voice tinged with desperation. He stepped closer, trying to bridge the emotional gap that had sprung up. “I care about you, Tori. I thought we were building something special, and I still want that. I want you.”

Tori tilted her head, eyes searching his for the truth amidst his assurances. “You’re saying all the right things, but this situation is… complicated, Jude. I just don’t want to feel like I’m the second choice while you have someone from your past around.”

“I get that,” he said, his heart racing as he grasped her hands, holding her gaze. “But I’m not looking back; I’m looking forward—at you.”

Her expression softened slightly, but unease lingered in her eyes. “So, if she’s here for the weekend, how do we navigate that? I mean, it’s not exactly easy to just pretend everything’s fine.”

Jude took a deep breath, steeling himself for the weight of the conversation ahead. “I want you to know that you are my priority. We can talk about it if it becomes uncomfortable for you, and I’ll handle it. I’d rather lose my pride than jeopardize what we have.”

Tori’s lips parted as if to speak, but her voice faltered for a moment before she found her words. “You realize how it sounds, right? You’re telling me that you’re serious about us, yet we’re dropping right into this chaos with someone who shares your past… It feels unfair to me.”

“Unfair?” Jude echoed, frustration bubbling beneath the surface as he struggled to keep his voice calm. “No, what wouldn’t be fair is if I didn’t bring this up with you. I want to be transparent. You deserve that, Tori. I have feelings for you—real feelings—and I’m trying to be honest about everything. I’ve only had my focus on you.”

Tori's brows furrowed, her expression flickering as she considered his words. “I appreciate your honesty, I do…” she trailed off, her voice softening. “But it’s just hard to reconcile that when Anastasia is literally right here... The thought of you two being around each other, of you having any history—it’s crazy.”

Jude could sense the turmoil brewing within her, the agitation playing out across her features. He felt the walls he once thought would hold a sense of safety now beginning to crumble under the weight of their reality.

“I wish it were simpler,” he said earnestly, running a hand through his hair. “But I can’t ignore the fact that she’s here for the weekend. That said, I also can’t ignore how I feel about you. You mean so much more to me than whatever I had with anyone else in the past.”

Tori blinked, the strength in her posture weakening slightly as she searched his eyes for sincerity. “You mean that?”

“More than anything,” he replied, taking a step closer, allowing the honesty in his gaze to shine through. Hooking a finger beneath her chin, he tilted her face toward his, searching her eyes for the truth of her feelings. "You’re different.“

Her gaze softened, though the tension still lingered. She was clearly trying to reconcile the feelings swirling within her. "Jude, I don't want to come off as jealous or insecure. I'm just trying to understand everything because it feels really overwhelming right now."

“I get that,” he said, voice low and sincere. “Please just trust that I won't do anything to disrespect or hurt you.”

Tori gave a slight nod, her eyes searching his, and for a moment, they stood in silence, each feeling the weight of what lay between them. Jude could see the internal battle playing out in her eyes—as if she was trying to make sense of it all while she wrestled with the emotions that threatened to spill over.

“Look,” Jude said softly, trying to coax her into a more relaxed state. “Let's take this one step at a time. I want you to be comfortable this weekend, and if that means we need to set some boundaries regarding Anastasia, I'm all for it.”

Her expression shifted slightly, gratitude dawning amid the uncertainty. “I appreciate that, honestly. It’s just... this feeling of sharing space with someone that I know you’ve been with before. It’s unsettling.”

“I understand,” Jude replied, his heart aching for her. “But I promise you, my focus is on you. Anastasia is just an echo of my past. Can we work together to make things feel okay for both of us? I want this weekend to be special for us.”

Tori took a deep breath, her resolve mingling with her vulnerability. “Okay,” she said finally, her voice steadier. “I think as long as you keep communicating, I can manage. It’s just hard because—”

"Because you want assurance," Jude finished for her gently, his heart pounding under the weight of her words. "I get it; you're not just navigating my past; we're trying to establish a future."

Tori nodded, a flicker of relief spreading across her features as she stepped closer to him. The warmth of her body eased the tension in the air. "Exactly. I don't want to feel like I'm constantly competing for your attention. I want you to be present with me, Jude."

"Then let's make that the priority," Jude said firmly. He brushed a lock of hair behind her ear, marveling at the softness of her skin and the tangible warmth between them.

Her breath hitched slightly as he leaned in a bit closer, the air crackling with unspoken tension. “I promise you, Tori. I want this weekend to be about us. No games, no distractions.”

Tori's eyes shimmered with a mix of hope and resolve. “Okay, I trust you. But you have to understand, this is an adjustment.” She paused, her expression softening as she stepped back just a fraction, realizing they stood on the precipice of something deeper.

“I understand,” Jude replied, positioning himself closer as he sought her gaze, his hands coming to rest on her hips as their eyes met.

Leaning into her, a soft hum ripped from Jude’s throat as their lips met in a delicate, tentative kiss. It was soft at first, carrying the weight of their conversation, but it quickly blossomed into something more passionate and urgent. The world around them faded, and it was just the two of them, their connection deepening in the embrace.

Tori responded to Jude’s intensity, her arms winding around his neck as she melted into him. He could feel her heartbeat against his chest, a comforting rhythm that synced with his own. It was as if they were both reminding each other just how right this felt—beneath the uncertainties of the weekend and the looming presence of Anastasia, what mattered was their shared connection.

Lifting Tori off the ground so her legs wrapped around his waist, Jude deepened the kiss, savoring the taste of her lips, the softness of her body pressed against his.

A soft gasp escaped Tori's lips, her fingers tangling in Jude's hair as she nestled closer to him. The sensation of her warmth against him made his heart race, igniting a fire within that he hadn't realized he craved so much. They stood there for a moment, forgotten in the world outside—a world that suddenly seemed far less important than the intimacy they shared in that instant.

“Jude…” she breathed against his lips, her eyes glimmering with an emotion he could only begin to understand but desperately wanted to explore.

“Yeah?” he whispered, his voice barely above a murmur as he pulled back just enough to meet her gaze, searching for answers in the depths of her chocolate-brown eyes. The seriousness of their earlier conversation still lingered, but the electric thrill of their kiss had shifted the atmosphere from tension to something deeply intimate.

"I just don’t want to lose what we have," Tori admitted softly, her fingers sliding from his hair to rest on his shoulders. “This weekend, with Anastasia... I can do it, but I need you to promise me we’ll navigate it all together. No bullshit.”

“No bullshit,” Jude repeated before his lips were back on hers, drawing her closer yet again, letting the warmth of their connection dispel the remnants of tension. It was a promise that they both felt, evident in the way their bodies instinctively responded to one another.

Unbeknownst to both Tori and Jude, Anastasia stood just out of sight, watching them from the hallway, her expression caught between surprise and intrigue. The way Jude held Tori, the softness of their shared kiss, stirred something in her — a curious mix of nostalgia and an unshakeable feeling of jealousy. She had known Jude once upon a time, and while their past had been filled with thrilling moments and hot sex, it was evident to her that she was witnessing something deeper.

Anastasia felt her heart tug as she observed the undeniable connection radiating from Jude and Tori. Memories of their brief romance flickered in her mind, but they felt distant now, overshadowed by the intensity of what she was witnessing. She had come to Madrid expecting a weekend filled with laughter and good times, but the sight of Jude and Tori together ignited a complicated mix of feelings.

Should she interrupt? Should she turn and leave? The moment felt so intimate that she almost felt like an intruder. But she was also acutely aware of the fact that she needed to assert herself in this situation. This was her chance to rekindle something with Jude, and seeing him with Tori stirred something deep within her—a sense of longing for what they once had but also a realization that things had changed.

As she hesitated in the shadows, Charlotte appeared beside her, raising an eyebrow at the scene before them. “Looks like we’ve interrupted something,” she whispered, a smile creeping onto her face.

Anastasia shot her a look, a mix of irritation and contemplation. “I didn’t expect to walk into this,” she replied quietly, her eyes still locked on Jude and Tori. “Why didn’t Marcus mention he was seeing anyone seriously?”

Charlotte shrugged, crossing her arms. “Maybe he didn't know either. But Jude looks pretty smitten, don’t you think?”

Anastasia's heart sank a little at Charlotte's words. The chemistry between Jude and Tori was palpable, the way they moved together like two pieces of a puzzle that had finally found their match. It stung to see him so at ease with someone new, someone who clearly brought out a different side of him—one that she hadn’t seen in a long time.

“Yeah, I guess,” Anastasia replied, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “But that doesn’t change the fact that I’m here now. I can't just back down. I need to make my presence known.”

“You sure about that?” Charlotte asked, her voice laced with concern. “It looks like they’re pretty serious. Do you really want to interrupt?”

Anastasia hesitated, torn between her desire to reclaim what was once hers and the realization that she might have already lost.

“We’ll see where the weekend takes us I guess,” she said, a hint of determination creeping into her voice. “But I can’t just sit back and watch them together. I owe it to myself to at least try.”

Charlotte regarded her with a mixture of sympathy and caution. “Just be careful, okay? You don’t want to disrupt something that seems to be blossoming between them. Sometimes, letting go is harder than holding on.”

Anastasia felt the weight of her words, but a spark of defiance ignited within her. “I know what I want, Charlotte. I want to remind Jude of what we had. He hasn’t really moved on, not completely. I could see it in his eyes when I got here.”

“He has arranged for you to go to a hotel instead of staying here with us; I think he's making his intentions pretty clear.” Charlotte pointed out.

Anastasia's resolve wavered slightly at Charlotte's words, but the fire in her belly refused to be extinguished. “Just because he’s with Tori doesn’t mean he’s forgotten about me entirely. We had something real, and I know that part of him still misses it.”

Charlotte shook her head, concern etched across her features. “You might be right, but you also might be setting yourself up for disappointment. Jude looks genuinely happy with Tori, and that’s not something to take lightly.”

Anastasia sighed, her heart heavy with conflict. “I get that. But I can’t just let him slip away without at least trying to remind him of what we had. I deserve that chance.”

Charlotte studied her for a moment, her expression softening. “Just be careful, okay? You don’t want to hurt anyone, least of all yourself.”

“Trust me, I know where the lines are,” Anastasia replied, a steely determination settling into her posture. “But I’m not going to let this weekend go by without making my intentions known. If I have to compete, then I will.”

With that, Charlotte stepped forward to make her presence known. Unlike her friend, she was excited to meet the girl who had Jude so captivated. The tension that had been hanging in the air felt thick and charged, and Charlotte sensed the unease radiating from both Anastasia and the couple in the living room.

“Hey, you two!” Charlotte called out, her voice light and cheerful as she approached Jude and Tori. “We didn’t mean to interrupt! We just wanted to introduce ourselves.”

Jude and Tori broke apart, their cheeks flushed from the shared kiss, and Jude felt a wave of heat wash over him as he briefly met the eyes of a small segment of his past. Tori’s expression shifted from surprise to a mask of polite friendliness, though he could feel the tension radiating from her.

Jude's heart raced as he sensed the shift in the atmosphere. Tori's expression transformed, a cautious smile replacing the warmth that had just enveloped them. He could feel the weight of the moment pressing down on him, the air thick with unspoken words and the intensity of the situation.

Tori wasn't his girlfriend by definition, but she was undoubtedly his.

And now, with Anastasia stepping into the room, the boundaries of that definition felt precariously thin. Jude could sense the tension coiling tightly around them, and he was acutely aware of how much was at stake.

“Hi, I’m Tori,” she said, extending a hand toward Charlotte, trying to maintain her composure despite the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Charlotte smiled brightly, taking Tori’s hand warmly. “Nice to meet you too! I’ve heard a lot about you from Marcus. He mentioned you’ve been keeping Jude on his toes.”

Jude could see Tori’s smile falter for just a moment, a flicker of uncertainty crossing her features before she regained her footing. “Yeah, I guess you could say that,” she replied, her tone light, but Jude could hear the underlying tension in her voice.

Anastasia stepped forward, her presence commanding yet casual. “And I’m Anastasia,” she said, her gaze sweeping over Tori with a hint of curiosity. “It’s great to meet you.” The words were innocuous enough, but Jude could sense the underlying challenge in her tone.

“Likewise,” Tori replied, her voice steady but her body language betraying her discomfort. She shot Jude a quick glance, and he could see the uncertainty etched on her face.

Jude felt the weight of the moment pressing down on him as he stood between Tori and Anastasia, two women from different chapters of his life. The apprehension was palpable, and the air felt charged with unspoken words and emotions.

“So, what brings you to Madrid?” Tori asked, her voice steady despite the flutter of nerves in her stomach. She was trying to maintain a sense of grace and poise, but Jude could see the flicker of uncertainty in her eyes.

Anastasia smiled, her demeanor confident as she replied, “I came along with Marcus and Charlotte to enjoy the weekend and catch up with old friends.” The words hung in the air like a challenge, and Jude could feel the heat rising in his cheeks.

The tension in the room felt like a live wire, crackling with unspoken words and unresolved emotions. Jude stood between Tori and Anastasia, acutely aware of the weight of the moment. He could feel the air thickening with uncertainty and the palpable energy of two worlds colliding.

Tori took a deep breath, her gaze steadying on Anastasia. “I hope you enjoy your time here. This city has so much to offer.” Her voice was polite, but Jude could sense the underlying tension, the way she was bracing herself for any potential blows.

Anastasia flashed a bright smile, though Jude could see the challenge lurking beneath the surface. “Thanks! I intend to make the most of it. It’s always nice to reconnect.” Her gaze flicked to Jude, and he could feel the unspoken challenge in her words, a bold reminder of their history.

As Marcus rounded the corner, his eased smile faltered as he realized what he had walked into.

“Is everything okay here?” he asked, the tension in the air heavy as he came to stand beside his girlfriend.

He anticipated Tori and Anastasia’s meeting being awkward, and had he known the seriousness of Jude’s feelings for Tori, he would have never taken it upon himself to invite her.

Now, standing in the midst of the consequences of his decision, Marcus felt its weight heavily. In hindsight, he should have asked Jude before inviting anyone.

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” Jude replied, his voice steady but strained as he tried to navigate through the uncertainty now pulsing in the room.

“I’m just getting to know Jude’s surprise guest,” Tori added, her tone matching Jude’s effort to play it cool despite the undeniable tension between her and Anastasia.

“Sorry about that, Tori,” Marcus said, immediately recognizing the discomfort in the air. “I should’ve given Jude a heads-up before inviting anyone.”

“It’s all right,” Tori said, forcing a smile, though Jude could see a hint of hurt behind her eyes. “It’s all good; no, if you'd excuse me, I'm going to go and put my bag upstairs in Jude’s room.”

Turning on her heel, Tori grabbed her weekend bag and made her way upstairs towards Jude's bedroom, with him following close behind. This action didn't go unnoticed by Anastasia.

Anastasia's gaze shifted between the two of them, a tight knot of jealousy forming in her stomach as she watched Tori ascend the stairs. Jude’s attention was solely focused on Tori, and the flicker of disappointment in Anastasia’s chest grew.

“Jude, wait!” she called out, her voice cutting through the heavy air as she stepped forward, determination shining in her eyes.

Jude paused at the base of the stairs, glancing over his shoulder at Anastasia, his brow furrowing slightly in apprehension. “What?”

“What’s your plan here?” she asked, crossing her arms, her tone assertive yet not unkind. “Are you just going to ignore what happened between us?”

“Anastasia—” Jude began, but she cut him off.

“No, hear me out,” she insisted, her expression shifting from frustration to something softer, more vulnerable.

“Anastasia, I can’t. Tori is my priority; she’s the girl I want.” Anastasia’s expression flashed with disappointment, a mix of old feelings and raw emotion that tugged at the edges of her heart. “So that’s it? You’re really willing to just brush our past aside because of this… this new thing with her?”

Jude took a deep breath, his heart pounding with the weight of her gaze. “Yes, I am. With you and anyone else.”

Heading up the stairs without a second glance at Anastasia, he followed in the same path that Tori had taken into his bedroom.

As Jude entered his room, he found Tori already setting her bag down on the floor, her back turned to him. Jude took a moment to soak in the sight of her—how at ease she was in his space, almost like she belonged there. The warmth of the moment felt bittersweet as the weight of their conversation threatened to return, but he couldn't shake the need to reach out to her.

“Tori,” he began softly, taking a step closer. She turned to face him, her expression a mixture of apprehension and vulnerability.

“Hey,” she said, her voice steady but her eyes betraying a swirl of emotions. The uncertainty hanging in the air between them felt suffocating, a looming cloud of unresolved tension.

“I know things just got a bit… complicated,” he continued, his hands finding a resting place on his hips as he tried to gauge her mood. “I didn’t mean for you to feel like there was a competition or that you’d walked into some mess.”

Tori let out a breath, her shoulders relaxing just a fraction. “I know. It's just… hard, Jude. I didn’t expect to deal with this as soon as I walked in the door. Learning that someone who used to be part of your life is going to be around all weekend—it's unsettling.”

“I understand,” Jude replied, moving closer until he could reach for her hand. He squeezed it gently, hoping to convey how much he valued her presence. “But you are the one who matters to me. All I want is to focus on you this weekend. I want us to be okay.”

Tori's gaze softened as she looked down at their intertwined fingers. “I appreciate that, Jude. I really do. It's just that I feel like I'm walking on eggshells here. The last thing I want is for you to feel pressured because of me.”

“What I want is for you to feel secure,” he said earnestly, the intensity of his words hanging between them. “If that means I have to set boundaries with Anastasia or make it clear to her that I’m choosing you, then that’s what I’ll do.”

She met his gaze, a glimmer of hope igniting in her eyes. “You mean it?”

“Absolutely,” he said, nodding firmly. The realization of how much she meant to him ignited a fire he hadn’t fully acknowledged before—a resolve to ensure that Tori knew she had him.

[usagiarchive]

angel of the codeine scene — [06] who i am, who am i?

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sypnosis. [ 1.3k words. no warnings. ] — as the dream gets more vivid, so does your will to discover who you truly are to Xiao.

usagi's note: i didn't attend my class today, so here i edited this early just because hehe, also wdyt aby my new theme (ily clorinde)

You dream of him once again.

Xiao.

And you know it really is him because you hear what he says this time. He talks to you the same way he did when he told you not to leave him again.

It's unfamiliar to you, the tone he speaks in, you don't know it's name, you don't know what to make of it, but you can feel it in the dreams.

And this time, when you wake, you remember bits and pieces of the dream. Some still slip from the net of your mind, but you remember those that linger.

This time it was in a field.

(Xiao was walking beside you, it felt like you were watching a show. You couldn't hear what he was talking about, but the place you're in was familiar.

And you know you've seen this while on patrol with him.

You can see his mouth moving but you can't hear what he's saying.

When he turns to look at you and smiles…

You wake.)

It leaves you more frustrated, being so close to finding out who Xiao really is to you- or rather who you are to him, but the dream remnants keep slipping and you're forced to leave the dream memories.

You have to find answers.

…

Verr sees you at dawn, fully dressed and carrying a satchel of your books and papers.

“Oh, where are you going, sweetheart?”

You halt in place, “The harbor, Miss Verr, I’m going to meet Baizhu-yisheng,”

Her eyebrow raises, “This early?”

“It's an emergency,”

“Wouldn't it be faster with your Adeptus?” she asks, but before she could finish with her question, you were already out of the room.

“Bye, Miss Verr!”

…

See, lying to the woman who took care of you constantly when Xiao wasn't around did make you feel very guilty. But you weren't exactly sure if Xiao would allow you to talk to Ganyu alone.

The past few weeks he has been more present, he eats with you now, asks how your lessons with Baizhu have gone, he keeps you closer during patrols.

After that… kiss (as you've learned from Baizhu, who was very surprised to have learned that Xiao was the one who initiated), he has been somewhat closer to you. More allowing of touch and help.

But he still does not talk much and the dreams get more and more vivid as the time passes.

At the bridge of the harbor, you felt the restrictions Morax had told you about, it was a miracle you even made it this far.

You could see the gold threads in your veins pulsing with light under your sleeves as you fought to walk all the way to Ganyu’s workplace.

Your body and mind keeps telling you you should turn back, return to Xiao, be by his side. But you know you have to get answers.

The dreams are dreams, and as you've told Morax, it has to mean something.

The man of course did not answer your inquiries, only telling you that he'll tell you in due time, sometime soon, he says.

The moment you make it, Madame Ping is there. She urges you to sit as she sees your barely conscious form, as she retrieves Ganyu for you.

The headache feels like you're about to split your head.

…

Ganyu is more than happy to tell you what she knows, but it also leaves you at a dead end.

“We were in different encampments during the war,” she explains, “I stayed with Madam Guizhong, while he stayed with Rex Lapis,”

She puts a finger to her chin as she thinks, “Though I did hear from Indarias that he had a human with him most of time, he became um… what's the term, a bodyguard! Yes, he became a bodyguard for them,”

“Did… did you know anything else about them?”

Ganyu shakes her head, “No, sadly, after that news, the Great War descended rapidly, and I lost contact with Xiao and the other Adepti for a while,”

“The next time we met was when Rex Lapis was hailed as the Geo Archon and we were rebuilding Liyue,”

You stared down at the cup of tea at defeat. The headache was even worse and Ganyu noticed it.

“Hey, are you sure you don't want to take this back to Wangshu Inn?” she asks.

“No, he'll know I'm here if we return,”

“Can't he sense you?”

You shake your head, “No, I learned how to conceal adeptal energy from Morax-shen,”

Her face goes into surprise, “That's… very impressive, wow, not even a millenia old and you've already mastered it?”

She smiles at you, “You're learning well,”

“Thank you,” you smile, then sigh, “I still haven't found out who that human was to him…”

It's Madame Ping that speaks now, “The human was a healer,” she began.

She pours another cup of tea for her and Ganyu as she continues, “The reason he was assigned to them was because healers were the first to be killed off.”

“In a war, it makes sense to do such a thing to ensure brute force and violence would hail victory,”

She places the teapot down, “The Conqueror of Demons fell in love with that human.”

Ganyu shows surprise as everything clicks for you. But it doesn't make sense, if they fell in love with that human, why am I having dreams about their time together?

“She died during the war,” Madame Ping tells you gravely.

“Oh.”

“How cruel,” Ganyu whispers.

A new voice joins the discussion, “After the war, he was assigned to Wangshu Inn as his base of operations,”

“Morax-shen!”

He smiles, “I wasn't informed there was a tea party,” he says as he takes a seat.

You say nothing as you watch him sip on the cup.

“Will you tell me now?”

His eyes flit to you, “I suppose it is time,”

…

He feels the pull of the life bond the moment you're out of the radius.

Why? he keeps asking his mind, Why would you leave? Where would you go? Did you leave on your own or were you taken? Why would you leave him again?

He can't find you, he can't sense you, and he's going insane. Xiao warps to the highest point of Wangshu Inn and desperately tries to find you.

He can feel your anguish, the pulsing of your veins, but he can't sense where you are.

Just come back. Please, just come back.

He can hear his heart thrumming in his chest, his throat tightens, and he- he realises this is exactly how he felt when he couldn't find you.

When he couldn't save you.

“Xiao…” the wind carries your voice to him.

Just like last time.

“...Find me where we last departed…”

What?

…

Morax has told you the truth.

What exactly is wrong with Xiao, but that he has no idea how to treat it, only to temper the symptoms.

Who exactly you are to Xiao, how you were that human from half a century ago, how you died during a camp invasion as they were busy fighting off in the North.

How you were made specifically for Xiao. Not only so that you can heal him, but also because you were his lover.

It made sense. A god wanting his warrior a chance to rest. To live the life he was unable to when he wasin the war.

Rex Lapis was a merciful god.

He tells you where you died.

…

Xiao find you in the same river where you died in his arms.

He stares, not knowing what to do.

Was this punishment? Did he really piss his god off that he was given you and you were to be killed again in front off him? In the same place you were taken from him all those years ago?

Instead he hears you hum a song he has not heard of in a long time.

A song he taught to the past you.

Lover's Oath.

He takes one step forward and the water beneath his feet makes a splash.

You turn.

The breath in his lungs disappates.

“Xiao,” you smile, “I'm back,”

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usagi's note: im so happy i might finish editing the last three parts of this later or sometime over the weekend anyway pls tell me what u thought abt it, and as always take care!! o⁠(⁠(⁠*⁠^⁠▽⁠^⁠*⁠)⁠)⁠o PLEASE NOTICE HOW I WROTE THAT U CALLED HIM XIAO INSTEAD OF XIANSHENG.

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