#Love bob love to study him as a character

[br1ghtestlight]

here's an unfinished fanfic i was writing about bob growing up in a homophobic culture as a bisexual boy. thought it was interesting enough to post but maybe not to ao3

Bob was five years old when he realized that there was something wrong with him.

He was playing on the playground and his father was babysitting him while his mother was in the hospital. He'd befriended another child who was playing, and they'd played together and created stories for what felt like hours. Bob liked playing with his new friend.

They were playing with another child that they'd met, and they all decided that they were going to pretend to be a family. Their biggest problem was that because there were three people playing, they would have to decide who was going to be the parents and who was going to be the baby. It was a difficult decision.

"I want to be the daddy," Bob told them.

He looked up to his own father, and he thought he was very strong and responsible and he took care of everything in the household. Bob wanted to be like him when he grew up.

"No, I wann' be the daddy!" Bob's friend argued.

Their new friend that they'd met at the playground had already decided that she wanted to be their baby, so she wasn't very worried about arguing that she wanted to be their mother. She had an idea that would make everybody happy.

"I have an idea! Why don't you both pretend to be my daddy? That way, I can be your baby girl," Bob's friend said proudly. Bob had never considered that somebody could have two father's before, but he couldn't think of a reason why that wouldn't be possible. It made sense to him.

Bob looked up at the playground. Despite the beautiful weather, it appeared that they were the only children playing outside that day, so they could pretend that the entire playground was their house and nobody would get angry at them for taking up too much space. "Okay, we can do that. We should pretend that the playground is our house, and it's a HUGE house 'cause we're super rich!"

"I want to race you to the slide," Bob's friend said. He laughed, and ran after him.

Later that day, Bob and his father were walking back to their house. Bob's father asked if Bob had fun playing with his new friends, and he said that he'd had so much fun. They'd spent hours playing together and running around on the playground.

"What was your favorite game that you played?" Bob's father asked him.

"That's easy. We pretended that we were a family living in a HUGE house, and we had a daughter."

"You pretended that you were husband and wife?" Bob's father asked with a playful smile.

Bob was happy that his father was enjoying their day together, because he felt like sometimes his father didn't like talking to him, and thought that he was annoying. That was why Bob spent more time with his mother, when she was feeling well enough to play with him. She never got annoyed at his games, or told him that she'd rather be working at Bob's father's restaurant. She laughed at all his jokes.

"No! My friend and I are both boys, and our daughter was our other friend. We were husband and husband," Bob corrected his father proudly.

He'd never heard of two men getting married before, so he was sure that he'd invented a new concept that was going to take the world by surprise. There were going to be so many happy couples! Bob was happy about this, because there was a boy in his kindergarten class that he thought was very cute, and he would love to get married to him someday.

Bob's father didn't seem happy about Bob's response. "Junior, haven't I told you already? Men can't be in relationships with other men. It isn't… It isn't natural."

"Why?" Bob asked. 

He was at an age where his response to every answer to a question was another question, and it was definitely something that got on his father's nerves. He was just curious about the world, and how everything worked. He didn't mean to be annoying.

"It's a religious thing. I don't know. That's just how it is. I'm tellin' you this now, so that you don't get harassed by your classmates at school. They won't be as understanding as I am, if you start askin' other boys to be your boyfriend. I don't want to see you getting hurt, or pushed around. You're a scrawny kid, y'know?"

"I know," Bob said. They were walking along the sidewalk, and Bob kicked a leaf as they passed by it. He felt embarrassed. He hated when he said something without knowing that it was wrong, and that other people thought he was being stupid. His father was trying to help by informing him before his classmates did, but he still didn't like it.

"Thank you for telling me, Daddy."

"No problem, Junior. Now, whaddya say we get back to our house and start cooking dinner before your mother gets back? She's always hungry after coming back from the hospital, and she'll be too sick to cook. You know how she hates eatin' that hospital food. You can help me by getting all the vegetables that I'm going to need from the fridge."

"Okay, Daddy!"

Bob knew that he got crushes on all his kindergarten classmates, and he didn't care if they were a girl or a boy. He liked everybody!

After what his father told him, he knew that there was something wrong with him, and he needed to fix it. He was lucky that he hadn't told anybody in his kindergarten classroom about his crush on his classmate who was named Thomas, because he was another boy. Everybody would think he was weirder than they already did.

It wasn't his fault that he had a crush on Thomas, because he was just so adorable. He had curly hair and freckles, and he always shared his crayons with Bob when they were coloring pictures. He wore socks that didn't match, and when Bob pointed that out to him, he just laughed like he didn't care about that at all. Bob shared his snacks with him at lunch, and he always said that Bob's father was the most amazing cook in the world, and Bob agreed with that. He was perfect. 

Bob was sure that if his father met Thomas, he would understand why he had a crush on him, and he wouldn't think that it was unnatural or weird.

Bob knew that it didn't matter if Thomas was the cutest boy in his kindergarten class, or if he always wore mismatched socks, or if he shared his crayons with Bob every single day. His father said that boys weren't supposed to be in relationships with other boys, and that meant that he wasn't supposed to get crushes on boys, either.

He didn't know what his father meant when he said that it was unnatural, but it couldn't have been good. Unnatural things were scary, like monsters hiding under his bed, or a scary virus that infected everybody and turned them into zombies. He didn't want to be unnatural.

He was lucky, because he got crushes on girls, too. He would stop having a crush on Thomas, and start having a crush on Amanda. All the boys in Bob's kindergarten class said she was the cutest girl in the world, and he had to agree with them. She was the best at drawing in their class, and she would share her juice with everybody because she didn't like it when her parents packed her juiceboxes for lunch. Amanda was amazing, and she never made fun of Bob or called him weird, or annoying.

Bob would stop getting crushes on boys, and he wouldn't have to worry about his classmates teasing him, or calling him mean nicknames. It was going to be easy.

*

Bob was eleven years old, and he had a crush on one of his classmates. His name was Anthony.

Anthony was very cool and popular, but he never bullied or made fun of people who weren't as popular as he was. He was confident, and athletic, and he was on their school soccer team. He was the fastest runner in their school, including eight graders, and everybody stopped what they were doing when he started running during recess because he was so impressive.

He was popular and made friends with everybody, including Bob. He always smiled at Bob when they were walking by each other in the hallways, and he was partners with Bob for their science project and he didn't complain even once about not being with his real friends.

He was also attractive, even if Bob felt creepy and invasive whenever he thought about that. He'd seen what Anthony looked like shirtless because their school had a field trip to the swimming pool, and even though it was months ago he would never forget what he looked like. He had dark skin and he would always come to school wearing different hairstyles that Bob thought were amazing. When he laughed he started snorting and it was hilarious. Bob was so happy to know Anthony even though he knew that he was way out of his league, regardless of if boys were allowed to date other boys. He was just so much cooler than Bob was.

Bob had realized a long time ago that he wasn't going to stop finding boys physically attractive or stop himself from getting crushes on them, but as long as he didn't talk to anybody about it or confess his feelings, it wouldn't be a problem. Nobody had to know about what he was feeling. They were private feelings, and even if they were unnatural or wrong, that didn't mean they were hurting anybody.

Bob sat behind Anthony in class, and he was staring at the back of his head as he worked on a math problem, and chewed on his pencil. He'd never been the smartest when it came to doing math, or school in general, and long division was far beyond anything that he was capable of. He rather spend their class period looking at the back of Anthony's head.

He was old enough to know about gay people, and he was also old enough to know that they were very bad and he didn't want to be one of them. He didn't have a problem with them, but everybody around him did and they said that gay people were dirty and that they had a disease that would kill them. They were unnatural, and they weren't supposed to be alive. Bob knew that if he was gay, his classmates would bully him until he graduated high school, or do something worse to him. His father wouldn't love him, and he would probably be alone and friendless for his whole life. He didn't want that.

Bob knew that he wasn't gay. He had crushes on boys, but he liked girls a lot more than them. He thought girls were so pretty, and he'd even had a girlfriend for a few weeks when he was in fourth grade. They held hands and she kissed him twice during recess, and he felt his heart jump into his throat. He got crushes on girls, and he definitely liked dating them, so that meant that he wasn't gay.

He probably didn't even have a crush on Anthony. He just thought that he was cool, and that he wanted to be friends with him. Sometimes he would think about what kissing him would feel like, but that didn't mean anything. Bob wasn't gay.

"Bob! Can I borrow a pencil from you?" Bob's classmate asked.

He grabbed a pencil from his pencil case, and turned to give it to them. He made sure to grab one that didn't have bite marks all over it, from when he chewed on them. His teachers always told him to stop doing that.

"Thank you! Also, why are you staring at Anthony like that? Does he have a booger on his face, or something?"

"What? No, I wasn't staring at Anthony! I don't know what you're talking about," Bob said defensively. He knew that this was not a normal reaction to being asked why he was staring at somebody, but he was surprised by the question. "He just sits in front of me, and I was staring, uh, at the chalkboard. That's normal."

Bob's classmate laughed. "Right, sure. What, do you have a crush on him, or something?

Bob started to turn bright red in embarrassment. He knew that his classmate was joking and that he didn't actually know that Bob had a crush on Anthony, but he felt exposed in a way he didn't like. He felt like he was suddenly naked, and everybody in the classroom was staring at him. It was like a bad dream.

"No! Why would I have a crush on Anthony? He's a boy and I'm not gay. Gay people are freaks."

"Okay, okay! I was joking. You don't need to get all defensive about it. You're obviously not gay," Bob's classmate said and he rolled his eyes in annoyance before going back to doing long division.

Despite feeling happy that his classmate hadn't figured out that he had a crush on Anthony, Bob got a disappointed feeling in his chest when he heard his classmate say that he was obviously not gay. It was true, Bob was not flamboyant or feminine or anything like the gay people that he heard about in movies or on television. He didn't act gay, and he didn't look gay. That was a good thing, because he didn't want to be gay. That would make his life worse. He WASN'T gay! 

He didn't know why other people telling him that made him feel sad or disappointed, like something inside of him secretly wanted to be gay, or at least have it acknowledged that he COULD BE gay, if he wanted to be. Which he wasn't, because he liked girls, and that meant that he wasn't gay. 

Right?

*

"Are you sure that your dad isn't going to come back?"

"Not for a few hours. He's gotta close up the restaurant, and that means we have the house all to ourselves," Bob said with a smile.

He was hanging out with his boyfriend, or not boyfriend, who was named Aaron. Their relationship status depended on what day it was. They had kissed before and Bob knew that Aaron wasn't straight, but they were friends before anything else. They were both huge nerds, and they loved watching movies together and goofing off after school. Sometimes they would sneak up into Bob's bedroom or in the janitor's closet at their high school and kiss, but that didn't happen very often.

It was by chance that they'd met and realized that they were open to experimenting with each other, when nobody else was around. Aaron had confessed while they were smoking a cigarette outside that he'd thought about what it would feel like to kiss a boy or what holding hands would feel like, and that he might not be straight, and Bob had confessed that he'd wondered about the same things before.

Aaron hadn't told anybody else, and he knew that his parents would disown him if they knew about this, so it was very important that nobody else found out about their experimenting. 

Bob hadn't told anybody else about his sexuality either, but he wasn't even fully convinced that he wasn't straight, or that he couldn't lie and say that he was and decide to just date women. He knew that his father wasn't the most open-minded person, but he had friends who were gay, so hopefully he wouldn't kick Bob out of the house. Even if his father didn't love him anymore, and Bob was a total disappointment. He was in a safer situation than his friend.

They were sitting on the couch together and watching movies, and anybody who saw them would think that they were just friends hanging out together. They were watching a cheesy alien movie from the seventies, and laughing at all the terrible visual effects.

Bob got a weird feeling in his chest when he thought about kissing Aaron while they were watching this movie. He felt like it wasn't allowed, or that it was an important secret that nobody else could know about. Luckily, they were alone, and nobody could tell them what to do.

Bob coughed awkwardly. "I-Is it okay if I kiss you?"

"Dude, you don't need to be so fuckin' awkward about it. We've done this before," Aaron laughed. He ran a hand through his hair confidently, and Bob blushed.

Aaron kissed him, and he felt fireworks exploding inside his stomach. Bob loved women, and kissing them felt amazing, but there was something about kissing another man that felt exciting. It was forbidden, and wrong. He felt like he was doing something illegal, like buying from the drug dealers that hung around his school and harassed students, or crashing his father's car because he was racing his friend. Anything could happen, and it was terrifying.

Bob kissed him back, and he could feel Aaron's smile on his lips. Bob started laughing, and soon they both pulled back with huge smiles on their faces. They looked like total nerds.

"Do you want me to cook something for you? I've worked at my father's restaurant since I was a kid, so I think I'm a pretty good cook," Bob asked. "I'm getting hungry so I'm going to start cooking."

"Sure, that sounds like a good plan. What are you going to make?"

"I'm not—"

Just as Bob said this, he and Aaron heard Big Bob return from where he'd been working at his restaurant. He looked frustrated, and he was muttering to himself about something.

"Stupid walk-in freezer! What's the point of doin' all that work if it's going to—" Big Bob noticed Bob and Aaron staring at him, obviously terrified of what was about to happen. "Oh. Hello, Junior. Hello Junior's friend, or whatever you two are. You're home early."

"I'm Bob's friend. We were just watchin' movies! I should probably get going now, because my parents, uh, they'll get angry if I'm home late. Thanks for inviting me over, Bobby," Aaron said. He was obviously panicking as he put on his shoes, and ran out the door.

Bob knew that they'd discuss this during school tomorrow, but the most important thing right now was convincing his father that nothing romantic was happening between them. Aaron had been at their house a lot over the past few weeks, and he knew that his father was starting to suspect something. He didn't want his father telling Aaron's parents and getting him in trouble, or worse. Bob had no idea what his parents were capable of doing, and he didn't want to put Aaron in any danger.

After Aaron left their house, Big Bob's anger returned. This time, it was directed at Bob. "Junior! What have I told you about inviting people over to our house without my permission? What were you thinking? And don't get me started on what the neighbors think about your little boyfriend…"

"He's not my boyfriend, Pops! Aaron is my friend. We were just watching movies together, I promise," Bob said nervously.

"Do you think I'm stupid, Junior? I've seen you going up to your bedroom together, and you kissin' him. You haven't had a girlfriend since you were fifteen! What am I supposed to believe? He's here every other day."

"Why don't you ever believe me? I-I told you that I'm not gay, and Aaron isn't my BOYFRIEND!" Bob shouted.

He hated arguments, even though he got into them a lot with his father, especially since his mother died. He felt tears forming in his eyes, and he tried to blink them away. He needed to stand up to his father, even if it was so difficult. There was a part of him that still needed his father's approval, and for his father to say that he loved Bob, and that he would accept him no matter what. Bob's mother told him that his father would always love and support him, he just wasn't the best at expressing that. Bob hadn't believed that for years.

He felt a burning inside his chest, because he knew that he would always be a disappointment. His father would never accept him for who he was, and he would never be good enough for him. Years of Bob suppressing his emotions and trying not to think about that caught up to him, and that mixed with the desire to protect Aaron however he could. He didn't want this to happen.

[struwberrii]

Hii! I love your headcanons and I’ve been listening to your haikyuu playlists daily<3 i was wondering if you’re able to do kuroo headcanons cause that would be great(^_^) take care

kuroo headcannons ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

thank you so much!! and thank you for the request!! here are some of my silly headcannons for this dork kuroo tetsurou ヽ(^◇^*)/ (also here’s the link to the kuroo playlist i made)

his love language for EVERYONE is teasing them, especially using his height to his advantage to pick on shorter people

doesn’t really study all that much but has crazy good grades

always walks you to class and surprises you during breaks with snacks

constantly picking on you (guys it just means he likes you)

helps you study but not without making fun of you for being ‘dumb’ first

unironically uses reddit and is constantly reading aita stories

i feel like mentally he’s a middle aged white dad

his favorite show is rick and morty or south park

his mom still packs his lunch (he would pack it but he always forgets)

not secretive about anything, like the entire nekoma team knows his phone password

has very creative insults in arguments

type of guy to eat like instant ramen at 8 am and not have a stomach ache

has a weird amount of sponge bob clothes

doesnt have a skincare routine, doesn’t even use face wash when he washes his face but has perfect skin

honestly he’s kind of a dork

can never tell when girls are flirting with him (girls always think he’s flirting first bc of how he talks)

super good at imessage 8ball

loves grabbing fast food and just eating with you or his friends in the parking lot

plays scrabble on his ipad during class

listens to rock and metal bands

sarcastic af

the worlds louded snorer, sleepovers with him are crazy

at the gym a lot and always asking you to come, sometimes he forces kenma to come too (trust he’s on those work out bikes with his switch in his hands)

gets so nervous when trying to compliment you so he’s just like stuttering and fumbling his words

keeps up with basically every sport

very touchy, always has an arm around you

super confident in your relationship, like he trusts you 110%

loves brushing/playing with you hair, probably knows how to braid hair too

always packs snacks, water and medicine just for you

if anyone else asks him if he has those things on him he says no 😭

looks so good in sweat pants

he met your mom one time and she’s always asking about him now (she loved him and wants you guys to be together)

likes the weirdest foods, like he eats the craziest food combos

literally drinks out of a 64 oz yeti water bottle and refills it hourly

probably really likes deathnote and is always watching those hour long video analysis about the characters and the story

brings a speaker to practice and forced the nekoma team to make a practice playlist with him

tries every new video game with kenma

probably loves hot topic and spencer’s

has a garfield mug

[lorelune]

dreamer's envy

|| dan heng x reader || E/18+ || first time, comfort, lore || wc: 13.4k  || ao3 ||

Dan Heng is haunted by the memories of a man he no longer is. You are all to willing to help him.

minors, antis and ageless blogs dni

notes: ahhh!!! beloved dh... df... yx... this fic is a bit of a love letter to reader insert character studies and ship fic. making my two faves kiss on the mouth fr. thank you so much to @yinyuedijun for beta reading along the way!! hope you enjoy 💗

CW: reader is referred to with they/them pronouns and afab anatomy, previous dan feng/yingxing, descriptions of gore, descriptions of intimacy issues, author-created lore (plot crafted prior to penacony release), interpretations of HCQ lore, multiple characters experiencing post-trauma

NOTE: this piece is written in two points of view. one is from dan heng’s perspective, where the “you” he is referring to, is you, as in the reader. the other perspective is second-person pov where the narrator ('you') is dan feng. in these portions, 'you' have a cock and the assorted anatomy. these portions are written in italicized text.

Your hands shake. Your thighs tremble. Yingxing lays between them, your cock nestled in his mouth. It’s not sizable enough to hit the back of his throat, but Yingxing, ever the sensitive man, still has tears pricking the corners of his eyes. You stifle a moan into your hand, hastily slapped over your mouth.

Yingxing will not have it.

A strong, calloused hand grabs your wrist and yanks it. He pins your hand by your side, intertwining your fingers. He pulls off your cock with spit-slick lips and smiles. 

“Beloved,” Yingxing speaks in a purr, soft and gentle and comforting against your ears. “You know I love to hear all of those sounds of yours. You’re not getting shy on me, are you?”

There’s a hint of mischief to his voice. You huff and kick at his back.

“Hurry up,” you snap at him. There's a bite to it; you mean there to be. Yingxing only looks amused by your tone— the only one on the entire Luofu who could possibly look joyful, when met with your distinct ire.

“Can’t I take my time?” Yingxing asks, licking from your balls, to base, to the head of your cock. You’re— wet. Leaking pre down your shaft. “May I undo you, my flower?”

“You’re an awful man. I will have you imprisoned.”

“You’d never.”

“You’re right, I’d do worse.” You have so many ideas brewing behind your eyes— ways to punish this wretched man for toying with you. Treating you so kindly and with such humor and wit. There is no one else like him— no one else in your many, lonely years who has lanced you in the way that Yingxing has. How treacherous of him, to steal your heart. 

“You’ll have to tell me all about the ways you’ll punish me,” Yingxing hums, pushing the tip of your cock against his lips. It’s obscene. The skin at the corners of his eyes crinkle. “After you cum down my throat, though.”

Yingxing, that bastard of a man, takes you into his mouth against, bobbing his head, sucking and running the flat of his tongue over the bottom of your cock. It’s too much, all at once—

And how prettily you moan when you become undone (again) under this wonderful, awful man—

✶    ✶    ✶    ✶    ✶   ✶

Dan Heng wakes up with such a start, he nearly vomits. He does dry heave, snatching the conveniently placed trash can nearby and dropping his head inside to sputter. Spit dribbles off his lips and falls in globs to the bottom of the basket.

He sets it aside and rubs the heels of his hands over his eyes.

Again.

Again, again, again— he has these dreams all too often. Of a life that is not his, of a lover that couldn’t possibly, ever be his. They’re visceral, vivid— as though Dan Heng is experiencing them in real time, and they’re not some awful figment that clings from a past life.

They plague him, simply. He hates every moment of them.

The pleasure of them feels poisonous. That man is not him. Yingxing— is not his. The body that writhes and gasps is not his own. He’s an onlooker, a distant stranger looking in on something intimate and dead. It’s torture, really, but Dan Heng is an expert is quiet endurance, so he copes. 

He stands, still wearing day clothes, and drags himself from his sleeping bag on the floor. His companions on the Astral Express all stated their initial concern with his choice of lodging and lack of a bed, but they’ve since calmed. Everyone on the Express has their quirks. It’s like how March sleep walks, Stelle occasionally glows from her chest, and you only sleep once every few weeks and never in your own room. Dan Heng enjoys his spot in the Archives due to the various motors and machinery that lay under the floor. It’s warm, far toastier than any other room, or bed for that matter. 

(He is not Dan Feng. However, Dan Heng cannot deny that his more draconic instincts are somewhat intact.)

Dan Heng throws on his slouchiest sweater, threadbare and worn, and wanders to the parlor car. An hour or so of pacing usually cures him of any antsiness, and he can nurse a cup of tea while he walks too.

This night, however, you sit in the parlor car as well. Dan Heng slows as he sees you.

You’re— an enigma to him really. Everyone on the express is a bit of a misfit, but you are a newer addition to the bunch, and he and the rest of the crew are still grappling with your oddities. 

Dan Heng has, since the moment he first met you, accepted he would never fully understand you. He made peace with it, moved on and has kept his distance except when necessary. It is better this way.

You’re staring, side-long, out of one of the wide windows of the car. Your chin is perched on your palm and your perpetually blood-shot eyes are half-lidded. Dark circles are punched beneath them. You look like shit. You always look like shit, and you have assured the crew that this is normal, despite March’s initial fretting. 

When you notice him staring, a kind smile curls on your lips and you wave, good-natured.

“Hey there, sleeping beauty. Are you doing alright?”

“I’m fine.” It’s not the first time you two have met like this. The Parlor Car is empty, except the two of you and the dimly glowing whale fixture that hangs from the ceiling. It feels familiar, much more comfortable than the... unwelcome familiarity of his own dreams. “I’m just fetching a cup of tea.”

“Ah, a night cap?” You hum, and crack your neck. “Sounds needed. That last dream of yours was wild.” 

Dan Heng frowns, “I’ve asked you before to quit that, please. It’s invasive.”

“I would if I could,” You shrug. “But, I can’t. Besides, your dreams are loud, Dan Heng. I’d be unable to ignore them even if I was at the back of the train.” 

“Can you at least not mention them?”

“I mean, I can not. But... they clearly upset you, don’t they?” You tilt your head, eyes soft. “Would you like to talk about them at all? I don’t mind listening.”

“They aren’t your concern.”

“I’m aware of that, but that doesn’t stop me from caring. I know they’re distressing.”

“You’re prying.”

“I’m asking, Dan Heng.” You sound a little desperate. Standing, you pass by him, in the direction of the passenger car. “You can say ‘no, my fellow Nameless, I would like you to never speak of me and my upsetting sex dreams,’ and I won’t ever mention them again. I don’t mean to be a thorn in your side, but the past is easier to bear in the present if you can lean on folks.”

Dan Heng is silent, stewing and stirring under his skin. 

By the time he has a reply formulated, you have left the parlor car. The only sign that you’d ever been there to begin with is a patterned knit blanket left where you were sitting. 

Dan Heng snatches it up before he can convince himself not to and returns to his room to add it to his ground-bound nest.

...

Welt had found you outside of a space station, idling around a refueling station. You’d been wearing a dirty utility jumpsuit with the emblem of some IPC-owned subsidiary screen-printed on the pocket. Your eyes had been glassy and far away. When Welt asked if you were alright, you had smiled and told him, “Actually, I’ve never been worse.”

The Express loves strays. It’s ultimately what he, Stelle, and March are. Welt to some extent as well, especially considering his several layers of mystery. Himeko has the disposition of a kind leader and the heart of a mother, and for all of Pom Pom’s fretting, they are always interested in a new face aboard the Astral Express, for however long they choose to be there.

It’s sensical that you were given a shower, a hot meal, and a room before you even fully understood what you were signing up for with the Express.

Dan Heng was, notably, wary of you. It was the way you looked at him after the first night you slept on the Express (one where he had predictably been plagued with images of a body that wasn’t really his being fucked and loved in a way Dan Heng couldn’t conceptualize his actual self receiving). There was clear concern etched in your expression, however you never voiced it. Not at first.

It was only after a few weeks that March pointed out you hadn’t slept since your arrival that you revealed your hand.

A bloodline blessed by the Aeon of Dreams, Sacha. 

Dan Heng had heard of the Aeon, distantly. A seldom-traveled path, one for those with imagination run wild and a penchant for long naps. There were whispers that the Aeon was asleep, constantly. Otherwise, dead. Regardless, you bore the Godbeing’s blessing in some way.

You revealed this during a routine coffee break, just before Welt, March and Stelle descending to a little sandy moon. Perched on a chair, legs curled over your chest, you’d laughed when March pointed out your lack of good sleeping practices.

“I don’t need to, so I tend not to. It’s a difficult habit to break.” 

You had explained to Dan Heng and Himeko that you and your kin, a race descended from a small planet from a dead solar system, all bear this blessing. No need for sleep and—

“I perceive the dreams of others.”

Dan Heng had questioned, immediately— “Perceive?”

“That’s the best way to put it.” You meet his eye and you look slack in your shoulders. Unbearably calm and tired. “What you dream, I experience along with you. The more I focus in, the more vivid it is.”

(Dan Heng is horrified and doesn’t speak to you for a week.)

After some significant, quiet panic, Dan Heng had politely asked you to not perceive his dreams if you could help it. 

You’d told him you’d do your best.

And Dan Heng— appreciates the effort. Even if it's clear it's not working. You are so often up when he rises for his customary tea and jaunt, and tend to prod him a little. At least stop him to chat for a moment or tea. You’ll sneak in a cheeky comment or two, usually, but they’re so quick Dan Heng can’t do much more than blush and stumble over his next sentence.

You look highly amused and soft, those nights.

You never ridicule him, which he appreciates. More often you look pleasantly neutral, as if trying to emulate the aura of a familiar house plant near a skittish black cat.

(Dan Heng knows he is the skittish black cat.)

It’s— too much really. Dan Heng would rather bear it alone, take his cup of tea and do his laps, but he also can’t find it in him to tell you off too harshly. You tend to favor the parlor car, anyway. You get lost in the stars and galaxies they traverse easily. It would feel cruel to ask you to sequester yourself to your room simply so Dan Heng can brood more effectively.

Dan Heng does not know what to do about his own haunting (arousing) dreams, nor does he know what to do with you and your unfazed smiles.

...

You straddle Yingxing’s lap, thighs tense as you roll your hips. Your lover’s length grinds inside of you, stroking something small and hot and so good you could get drunk on it. You chase the sensation, selfish. Your hands are braced behind you, on Yingxing’s thighs as he is sprawled below. 

His cheeks are flushed and his hair is a knotted mess. A hastily ripped piece of fabric binds Yingxing’s wrist together and secure to the stained wood of the bed frame.  You were kind enough to carefully pull out his favored hairpin (a gift, one you commissioned him to make... for himself. Without his knowledge. Yingxing was moderately huffy about it until you tucked it into his hair yourself.) and set it aside. 

Yingxing is not a weak man, but you are a Dragon, and therefore keeping him restrained and tethered is not difficult. Usually, you allow Yingxing the privilege of carving out your insides at his leisure and pace. There’s a sweet torture to it you have found yourself having grown fond of. 

There is no other soul, mortal or otherwise, short-lived or long-lived, that you would allow to exert such control over you. Yingxing is an exception for you in so many ways. How dear this (foolish) craftsman has become to you.

“B-Beloved,” Yingxing’s voice is tight, strained. There’s sweat beading on his temples. “Might I persuade you into moving?”

You hum. Your tail wraps around his leg, from ankle to thigh and squeezes. The feathered tail flicks at Yingxing’s tense muscle and he jolts under you. A glittering laugh leaks from the corner of your mouth.

“Persuade me then.”

“Y-You’re not making this easy, are you?”

“I told you I wouldn’t. And you still agreed.”

“I thought the great Yinyue Jun would grant me some mercy at least. Excuse my wishful thinking. I thought that my dearest husband would forgo being a brat for at least a single night—”

You scoff.

You roll your hips, slow and deliberate. Yingxing’s words are cut off, killed in his throat as his eyes roll back into his skull. Keeping your core tight, you bury his cock in your hole to the hilt. You’re flush together, panting. It’s a tight squeeze, it always is. But the slight burn is familiar and welcome as you throw your head back and moan.

The sound is sin. If any of the Preceptors knew what this man did to you, he’d be drowned in Scalegorge within the day. 

Yingxing curses in a tongue you don’t know— it’s his mother’s language, he once told you. He tries to buck up into your heat, but you hold him down and steady. Clicking your tongue and racking your nails down his chest. Thin welts rise in your wake. Yingxing lets loose a choked gasp as you slide down on his cock. The stretch is so, so good. You crave this ache. You fantasize about it when you surely shouldn’t. It haunts your—

Dreams?

✶    ✶    ✶    ✶    ✶   ✶

Dan Heng wakes up so hard it physically hurts. He gasps, muffling a half-there sound into his pillow. It’s shameful. He feels out of his mind as he flips onto his stomach and ruts into his nest of blankets. The friction is dry, scratchy, and barely enough. However— the phantom sensations of a dead lover crawl over him. Nostalgic and tragic and nauseating.

He comes with a sob that he prays no one hears. He stains the front of his boxers as he grinds his oversensitive cock against the wet fabric. It’s too much. He’s too sensitive. It hurts, but Dan Heng doesn’t know what else to do.

He feels ashamed as he sits up and runs a hand over his face. 

It’s usually not this bad. Usually he can will away any arousal with logic. Reminding himself that the pleasant touch and face he remembers is long gone and was never his to have to begin with. Only on a few occasions has he woken up disoriented enough to forget himself to actually get off.

He needs to shower.

Dan Heng blearily leaves his room with his towel slung over his arm. The showers are on the other side of the passenger car. Dan Heng turns the spray on the highest heat, cooking himself as much as he can bear. There’s a latent energy in him that always swirls, begging him to push and pull the water around him, harness it for even a moment—

Before Dan Heng can entertain such things, he exits the spray, flushed bright red with his towel around his waist. 

As he exits the shower, he finds you. 

You’re perched one of the plush couches, tucked into a nook in the passenger car. Your signature blanket is not with you. You look— like shit. Dark circles stamped but your eyes look alight.

Dan Heng freezes as you notice him.

“... You alright?” You ask him.

“I’m fine.”

“You sure, bud?”

“Yes.”

“Uh-huh.”

”You’re patronizing me.”

You stumble, “I don’t— I don’t mean to. That was just—”

“Please do not—”

“A lot.”

Your cheeks are flushed as you rub at them. Your gaze flits up to his then averts to the floor. You look... shy. It’s an expression he’s never seen you wear before, even when you were pulled onto the express filthy and in a heavily patched jumpsuit. 

Something in Dan Heng’s chest squeezes. He doesn’t know what to say. He feels entirely too exposed. He’s not fully dry, and he can feel droplets of water dripping from his hair down to his shoulders. His throat bobs as he gulps you watch the movement with rapt attention. 

He coughs.

“I asked you to refrain from viewing my dreams.”

“That one was loud.” You frown. “Incredibly loud. Like banging pots and pans, fireworks and explosives kind of loud. I couldn’t have ignored it, even though I very much want to. I’d love to give you your privacy, Dan Heng, but sadly the intricacies of your mind happen to make your dreams essentially unignorable.”

“Must you comment on them?”

“... I heard you crying after.” Your expression looks uncharacteristically torn up. Your lackadaisical smile and humor are nowhere to be found. “I was worried.”

“I can assure you, I am fine. You don’t need to worry about me.”

“I do, regardless. The whole Express does.”

“I appreciate it. Though, it’s unnecessary.”

“Of course. Sure. Because you’re the paramount example of ‘not needing care’.”

“I’m self-sufficient.” This time, he frowns.

“You are.” You stand up and walk toward him. “‘Sufficient’ implies adequacy, not prosperity.”

“What are you implying?”

Your hands ball into fists at your sides, “That you, Dan Heng, seem like you could use some help. I won’t pry at your past, I’m aware it’s not my place to do so— however routinely having uncomfortably vivid sex dreams about a man who you clearly have complex feelings about, probably isn’t good for you. There’s an inevitable amount of strain. One that I think that you’re ignoring.”

“What help do you think I need?” His voice remains level, but your proximity has him wriggling under his skin.

“... I— could be a decent listener. I have all the time in the world. I’m always around at night.” You struggle to meet his gaze, but after a moment, your usual, easy smile erupts on your face. “Or, would you prefer more... direct assistance? I could help with that too.”

“Speak plainly.”

“Was the last time you had sex with the man in your dreams?”

Dan Heng’s throat closes up. The cloudhymn that are under his skin thrum and encircle him, for just a moment. Your eyes widen at the colors and hum of it and jump back. You almost stumble. The surge of power and energy shakes the passenger car. The whale-shaped light fixtures dance above you. 

Dan Heng swallows.

“And if it was?”

You look at him, really look at him, and your eyes soften. Your center looks wide and vulnerable despite the churn in the air, “Then, do you think it could, perhaps, be helpful to add some more recent, pleasurable memories for your dreams to play with?”

Dan Heng flushes so quickly, he feels faint.

The instinctual cloudhymns around him die in an instant. He retreats, a firm grip remaining on the towel around his waist to keep it in place. He mumbles out a hasty ‘goodnight’. 

He is unsure if you hear him.

... 

In the days that follow, neither Dan Heng nor yourself, bring up your proposition. 

The next morning, you look expectedly exhausted, but do not prod or pry at him any further. You sit at the long table for breakfast and munch on a piece of bread and some jam while Himeko goes over your next destination. 

The few times you look at him, your smile is lazy and easy, however you turn away quickly. 

You continue to skillfully avoid him. 

Dan Heng— feels a bit bad about it. Maybe a lot. If he enters common spaces like the parlor car or dining car, you quickly leave after a peripheral greeting. You must be doing so as to not tip off the rest of the crew that there’s some amount of… tension between the two of you. Under different circumstances, Dan Heng would have appreciated the purposeful discretion, however something about it irks him. 

The Express’s next destination is a repurposed space station at the edge of a solar system. A false sun, powered by a Stellaron— something to that effect. Stelle’s bodily composition is of some intrigue to the scientists looking to craft a replacement, while other factions wish to harness the Stellaron more directly than a not-so-distant source of light and heat. 

Himeko’s engineering expertise is being requested, along with Welt’s understanding of Imaginary energy. March wants to go due to the complex system of bioluminescent algae that teems in the space station’s plentiful aquaponics infrastructure. (“It looks so pretty! I need photos!”)

There are very few reasons for Dan Heng to accompany them; the party’s already full. There are even fewer reasons for you to join, who, despite all of your assurances, looks particularly haggard and worse for wear. Both March and Himeko mother hen you into staying aboard the Express to keep Pom Pom company.

Dan Heng should make an excuse to leave as well. Something in his gut tells him it would be best to keep his distance from you.

(It would be easier that way.)

However, Dan Heng finds himself waving goodbye to his companions as they dock at the small port. Pom Pom has requested at least a single treat from their excursion while they wave exuberantly from his side. 

You stand on Pom Pom’s right, lazily waving as well. Your shoulders are slumped.

As Pom Pom aways to dust the fixtures in the parlor car, Dan Heng faces you and speaks without thinking.

”You should rest.”

You blink owlishly at him. “… That’s not necessary.” 

”You don’t look well.”

”You’re quite the charmer, aren’t you?”

”I am being serious.”

”So am I.” You roll your eyes and shrug. 

You attempt to walk away from him, but Dan Heng finds himself reaching out to grab your arm. His hand wraps around your forearm securely, firmly. 

You still, wide-eyed.

”You can sleep, can’t you?”

”… I mean, yes?” You frown, glancing at his hand then back to his face. 

“Would it help?”

”Help what?” 

Dan Heng deadpans. “You’re exhausted.”

”… Dearest Dan Heng, I am always in this state. I apologize if my withered countenance has caused you grief. I am fine.”

You attempt to wrench your arm from his grip, but he doesn’t let you go. Your frown deepens. 

“Being intentionally daft isn’t wise.”

You stare at him, “I’m not being ‘intentionally daft.’”

”I beg to differ.”

You mutter something in a tongue that Dan Heng doesn’t recognize. “What’s your deal? I apologize for getting into your business previously. I have been trying to give you ample space and shut out your dreams to the best of my ability. Is that not enough?”

”No.” No, no, no— that’s not really. It. Dan Heng isn’t sure what it is, but at this moment, his mood has little to do with your knowledge of his horrible, awful, persistent wet dreams, but something else. “I’m not upset at you for that.”

You stare and your hands ball into fists, “So, you’re really pestering me over my well-being?”

”Yes?”

”Aeons, Dan Heng.” You say his name in a croon and it makes him shudder. He wants to scream. “It really isn’t a big deal.”

”Is it straining you to not… perceive my dreams?”

Your expression goes blank. “I mean. Yes. But, it’s not a big deal—“

“You look awful.”

”You can’t have both.” You are clearly frustrated. Dan Heng’s grip is unrelenting. “I can’t— I can’t attempt to block out your silly sex dreams without a not-insignificant amount of effort. I’m either going to be very keyed into that pretty silver-haired man who you clearly wish was in your bed, or I’m going to look a bit more worse for wear. The latter, Dan Heng, does not bother me. Fretting over me isn’t going to make me less worn down.”

”And you just… don’t care that you’re tired?”

“I’m always tired.” You smile then, the same lazy, curling quirk of your lips that you so often wear, ever since the Express dragged you aboard from that rest stop. Dull-eyed and wearing a filthy utility jumpsuit. “I don’t want to cause you all any additional grief. I wish you wouldn’t worry about me.”

Dan Heng doesn’t know what to say.

“... That isn’t your choice.” The words feel paltry, half-there.

You pull your arm from his grip, thumbing at the spot where he held you. Your soft day clothes have rumbled under his grip, “That’s hilarious, coming from you, Dan Heng.”

“This is different.”

“How so?” 

“Because—” Dan Heng clicks his tongue. Something— something simmers just under his chest. Something bigger than himself, salty like the sea and heavy like green stone that writhes as you stare him down. “Because my dreams are my business. The man— men— in my dreams are my ills to carry. They should not affect my present. You shouldn’t be affected by them.”

“Well, crazy, but I am—” You go nose-to-nose with him and huff. Dan Heng backs into a railing behind him, back curving. “Because I don’t like seeing you in pain—”

Something kicks Dan Heng’s shin and he hisses. You jump away from him with a stumble, looking down at a glowering Pom Pom. Their tail twitches.

“No fighting in my parlor car!” Pom Pom huffs. “Does Pom Pom need to get Miss Himeko’s ‘get along’ shirt?”

“That’s not necessary,” Dan Heng rushes to say.

You’re already walking away, out of the parlor car with a shake of your head and one last wistful look.

...

You tear your heart from your chest.

It is expectedly painful, even if you braced for it. Even if in your deepest meditations, you simulated the pain of such a loss with cloudhymn to prepare for this moment, on the off chance you would need to lose your heart from between your ribs and give it to your beloved. So few of Long’s scions retain the ability to rebirth with multiple hearts— only a handful of high elders, really. You can imagine what they will say about you, think about this act you’re committing.

Sin. And a painful one.

The blade in your hand clatters to the ground as you hold your heart in your own palm. It’s large— a dragon’s heart. It will not fit in the chest of a mortal. 

(But, you will make it fit.)

Yingxing is— is— he’s dead. He’s a corpse on the ground below you. One of his arms is missing, while the other is twisted at a most unnatural angle. His star silver hair is a tangled knot in the dirt, Yingxing’s favored hairpin shattered somewhere in the foreground. The color is no longer pure. It’s a dirty scarlet. A mix of your beloved’s blood and Shuhu’s. 

Yingxing’s eyes are half open and dull. Purple turned bruised-petal lilac. His lip is split and blood trickles from the corner of his lips,

This is not to say anything about his middle which is—

Not really there.

It makes inserting the heart easier. You think so anyway. Your hands shake (they never have before, not like this) and you cry (you have not cried like this before) as you shove the heart into Yingxing’s necrotic chest. You have to further break his ribs to shove your heart into him. Cloudhymn spins around you— a storm, a gale for you. It dulls the screams from your younger companion begging you to stop. A beast roars in the distance, above it all. The sound makes the air tremble and split. Your ears would bleed, were you a weaker species. 

(A necessary sacrifice— she— she was already dead. Past saving. You only have two hearts. One which is yours and one which is now—)

Yingxing’s.

Your beloved flinches. Lurches as unnatural growth burgeons from him. He wails on the ground as magics spin within him. You are doing the most unholy thing to him. But, you must, right? You cannot lose him. You cannot lose Yingxing. You have given everything, always, as every self, to your role and its meaning— can you not have this one thing? May your beloved not stay by your side, however unfair and painful the circumstances?

Unblemished, ghostly pale tissue regrows from Yingxing’s body at an alarming pace. It rejoins his upper and lower halves together as he screams. 

Yingxing’s hands wrap around your neck and you’re shoved into the dirt. You are not expecting the force and the impact, even less so. The air knock out of you and the cloudhymns shudder. The magics are thinner for a moment, you could see your other companions if you chose to. You could see how many Xianzhou cloud knights have fallen to the beast you created.

You ignore them.

You ignore them all to look up at your beloved. Eyes now a wild red, teeth glimmering white and stained with blood. His hair has darkened, silver turned dark, like it had been dipped in thick, viscous oil. Yingxing bares his teeth and screams at you. 

“WHAT DID YOU DO!”

“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE, DAN FENG!”

—!

✶    ✶    ✶    ✶    ✶   ✶

Dan Heng awakens to a silent Astral Express. The trainship is still docked and it’s running on ancillary power in the meantime. 

It’s entirely too quiet. All he can hear is the pounding of his own heart.

He scrambles to grab at his own chest— there’s no gaping hole. There’s no— there’s no blood on his hands (not real, material blood anyway . Various parties would beg to differ as to if he has any actual blood on his hands. But, the past is the past, isn’t it? These dreams are the afterimages of the life of a deadman. That’s all they can be. The man that chases him across the universe bears a different name and a younger face. The man who will always make time for him on a Godship, so very far away, may use his name ‘Dan Heng’, but is that who he truly sees when he looks at Dan Heng?)

Dan Heng dry heaves into his hands.

He barely manages to crawl to the little bathroom attached to his room to puke his brains out. He hasn’t had much of an appetite over the past few days, and most of what comes up is water, pile, and half-digested rice porridge.

By the time he withdraws and flushes, wiping his hand over his mouth, he feels winded. Disgusting. Sweaty and entirely too wet. 

Shower.

Dan Heng methodically grabs his few supplies and walks across the silent Astral Express to the showers. He could take a bath— maybe it would help. March keeps minty bath products out and available that are so strong that they tend to pull any of the Express’s passengers out of a funk if used. There’s a little basket of them in the tiled common area of the baths. There’s a hand-written note in March’s perfect scrawl that says “Please take one❤️!) 

Dan Heng snatches a few before picking his favored, individual shower. There’s a little atrium before entering the shower itself, where he sheds his drenched bedclothes and hangs them, along with his towel. He turns on the shower and idles for a moment, listening to the dull roar of it.

Water splashes onto him in droplets. There’s a (dormant. Dormant. He swears it’s dormant) instinct to ball the errant water up and toy with it with cloudhymn. The pearl that idles in the center of Cloud Piercer has many different ways to harness its power beyond a weapon of steel that—

(Isn’t his, is it?)

Dan Heng wants to vomit again. He steps into the spray before the nausea overtakes him.

The spray is cold— he usually takes cold showers, regardless of if it’s after a particularly intimate dream. He prefers cold water. He enjoys cold baths, but they’re a luxury he enjoys only once in a while, and usually for the better part of a day. He’ll stay submerged for what would be a worrisome amount of time (if he didn’t bear the spare parts of imbibitor lunae) and, despite his assurances, worries the rest of the crew. As sedentary and reclusive as Dan Heng can be, camping out in the baths for the better part of a day causes a stir amongst the express.

They’re a treat, a bothersome one.

Now, he washes himself thoroughly. It’s a mechanical and rhythmic thing. It soothes him. His breath comes steadier.

Dan Heng hasn’t had a dream that unpleasant in quite some time. He has always had the more gruesome— of tragedies beyond this knowledge. But, they’re rarer. He is haunted more frequently by memories of pleasure and that almost makes the shadow of Dan Feng more cloying. The gruesome are just that— gruesome. He has put together pieces of Dan Feng’s sin, though he refuses to touch the Archive’s documents ported from the Luofu on the subject. 

Ignorance is bliss and Dan Heng feels knowledgeable enough. The breach between his own memories and Dan Feng’s is less solid than it once was. Dan Heng will more than likely find out with time.

It despairs him for a moment as he turns off the water and towels off. He feels— more lucid. Better. 

He’s surprised that you haven’t sought him out.

There’s— no way you didn’t perceive that dream. Dan Heng can’t be entirely sure what you mean when you call a dream ‘loud’, but he knows the very real pain he felt during it could constitute as such. He listens closely as he dresses in new bedclothes. The Express is still quiet aside from machine hum.

Dan Heng could check on you. He thinks about it. Your room is just past Stelle’s and considering you weren’t in the parlor car, you’re probably there.

You shouldn’t have seen that. But, it’s not like Dan Heng can help it, right? 

The tangle of feelings within Dan Heng writhes as he exits the showers. It grows even more unruly as he notes a change in the parlor car.

Resting on one of the plush seats is a hastily folded blanket, a still-steaming cup of tea, and a small, folded note.

Dan Heng approaches and reads.

DH

i’ve noticed you like my blankets. take this one. it’s one of my favorites.

have some tea and rest if you can.

— [name] ╰(*°▽°*)

The penmanship is shaky, and clearly quickly written. None of the paper’s folds match up with each other. There’s a spill of tea on the coffee table that looks half-wiped away. 

Something heavy settles in Dan Heng’s gut. He gathers the blanket, the tea, and your note and heads back to the archives with a pit in his chest.

Like he’s still missing a heart.

...

Things come to a head a few days later. The rest of the Astral Express crew is still sorting things on the space station, and you and Dan Heng only have so much space to dodge each other.

And, truthfully? Dan Heng stopped avoiding you the day before yesterday. Now, he is actively (read: passively but passionately) trying to seek you out. This involves listening keenly for when you leave your room, but lately, those trips are few and far between. And always occurring while Dan Heng is asleep. Pom Pom confirms this, looking increasingly uneasy at the clear tension between the two of you.

Dan Heng— doesn’t know what to do. He is good at running from his problems. He put Cloud Piercer through— Blade’s chest any number of times and hopped to the next planet more times than he cared to think about. He ran from the shackling prison, the Luofu, and its General without looking back even in a cursory way. Dan Heng finds sentimentality to be a new feeling, a new fixture within his person and does not know how to handle it. He does not want to run away from you— he wants to run toward you.

The blankets of yours (three in total) are in his nest. He paces the passenger car each night hoping you’ll reveal yourself. He hovers outside of your door, hand poised to knock, but he never does.

He does not know what he’d say. 

Dan Heng does not have confidence in his words in that way. He can speak well— it’s an overhang from Dan Feng, and he is grateful for it, but on more than one occasion, March has (rather explosively) shouted at him for being so... blank-faced in the heat of an emotional conflict. The two of them occasionally do butt heads, usually when March is attempting to run headfirst into a situation without proper forethought, and those encounters have ended with March tearfully screaming at Dan Heng to just be “honest with his face!” 

His lack of expression is also an overhang for Dan Feng. 

No matter how well-crafted his sentences and well-spoken his words, Dan Heng cannot connect them to how he feels... effectively. It’s disjointed. Like armor made with incorrectly sized plates that cannot possibly be pieced together. Clothing created with a misdrawn pattern, never able to be sewn in a wearable way. 

If he were to face you, he is certain he will not be able to voice how he feels.

He can at least— do something. Give you something, since you seem so hellbent on leaving him special tea blends you’ve stashed away and BLANKETS. 

(Do you have any idea what you’re doing to him?)

Dan Heng stops trying to run from you. He resolves to do something or say something because it's better than the widening rift that’s currently being run through the Astral Express, between the two of you. 

Dan Heng gets his opportunity in the late evening. He’d— feigned sleep. Intentionally. A deep state of meditation for long enough that you might think he was enjoying a dreamless night of sleep, however, he’d only be idle, waiting for sounds of any of your activity in the direction of the parlor and meal car. 

Dan Heng hears your door slide open down the hall as he sits upright, cross-legged in his nest of many blankets and pillows. Your steps are quiet, the lightest pad against the flooring outside. He strains to hear you.

He does notice, however, how you move even slower as you walk past his door. So clearly intentionally trying to keep quiet for his sake.

Dan Heng waits a few minutes until he’s certain you’re either in the Parlor Car or Meal Car before uncrossing his legs and bounding from his room. He means— to be more put together about this. But, he’s nervous he’ll miss his chance, and you’ll retreat, and be gone for longer—

Dan Heng finds you in the meal car, poking over cold dinner leftovers with a sullen expression. Your brows are heavy, eyes dull. You look— awful. You always look awful, he’s sure you’ll assure him, but now you look bad. You look ill. Unwell. The oversized shirt hanging from your shoulders billows in an uncomfortable way. It has too many undone buttons, leaving a deep v, exposing too much of your chest.

You look up at him, eyes widening.

“I thought you were asleep.” You say softly, putting down the tongs you had been using. You didn’t bother picking up any food, your little bowl is entirely empty. 

Dan Heng opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. He snaps it shut a moment later.

Your eyes soften and you sag. You look like you could melt into the Express’s floor at any moment. Your eyes radiate... pity. 

“Did I wake you? I try to be quiet.” You laugh, looking sidelong, out one of the many windows. “Sorry about the fuss. I’ll get out of your hair.”

Dan Heng is frozen.

You idle, only for a moment, holding your breath, before shaking your head minutely. It— it makes his palms sweat. You try to shuffle past him. Dan Heng is blocking your only exit, and you attempt to side-step him as he gapes at you, unmoving. Unsure.

Dan Heng grabs you by the forearm as you pass.

He holds you there. Steady. His grip is firm and unyielding. Maybe too tight, based on your sharp intake of breath as you wobble in place. Dan Heng steadies you with his other hand. Without— thinking, his palm lands on your ribcage and you jump with the contact.

You stare at him, wide-eyed. 

And you face each other.

“You’re avoiding me.” Dan Heng speaks first. His words feel sure, but there’s a sticky feeling in his chest.

“... Perhaps.” You smile easily, despite how worn you look. “It seems like you have a lot on your mind. I didn’t want my presence and what it entails to burden you, dearest Dan Heng. I apologize if that wasn’t clear.”

“What do you mean by your ‘presence and what entails’?” 

You look like you’ve been punched. Dan Heng feels ill. 

“Exactly what it sounds like.”

“Please be straightforward. 

“Kind Dan Heng, I am—” 

“Please, explain yourself.” Dan Heng feels— frustration bubble up into the back of his throat. It’s acidic. He looks from the grip he has on your arm to your face, lingering on the chapped lines of your lips before meeting your eyes. “Why do you think you would burden me?”

You look at him sadly, “I thought we’ve been over this.”

“We haven’t, to my knowledge.”  Dan Heng frowns. You look like you’ve been slapped.

“I apologize.” You shouldn’t be. “Dan Heng, don’t I know too much?”

He locks his jaw. 

You continue. “You’re an incredibly private person. I don’t want to know about a past you’re clearly not comfortable sharing. I cannot help what I am able to perceive, however I can create some distance between the two of us, so as not to suffocate you with the fact that I know about your dirty laundry without your expressed consent.”

Dan Heng’s mouth is dry. 

You’re an unbearably earnest individual. As mysterious as you make yourself, you don’t tend to lie. You’re blunt in a way that’s disarming, heart flayed open as if rended with a short, sharp blade, on display for anyone who would like to view and poke at it. 

“I apologize for communicating that more effectively,” You add more softly. You place your hand over his, the one bracing your arm. You squeeze. “It must be hard to bear those things, and you’ve made it clear you wish to do so alone. I want to respect that and you, Dan Heng. My door is always open, but I thought it might be easier for you to not... be reminded so easily, by my presence.”

Your eyes are wet as you look away from him, to the floor. You take the smallest, most guarded intake of breath. It looks like you’re trying not to cry.  

Dan Heng feels something cold and large in his chest. Big enough to swallow him whole. 

He says your name, even and unwavering, with the weight of the sea behind it. You glance up at him, straining to give him your same lazy, forced smile—

And he kisses it off your lips.

It’s not an action Dan Heng thinks about. You’re almost close enough to feel each other’s breath regardless. One moment, he is staring at you with his own frown, and the next his lips are on yours, tilting his head to search for the best angle. The force of the action has you stumbling back into the wall behind you. The hand he kept on your ribs moves to your waist, bracing you.

It takes a moment for you to react. A startled little (whimper, a whimper) sound gets muffled by his lips as he cradles your jaw. Deepening the gesture. You react and— return it. Moving your lips against his, leaning into his grip. 

Only to freeze, and shove at his shoulders a moment later, “W-Wait.”

Dan Heng pulls back, panting.

“You don’t have to do this,” you tell him. There’s an urgency in your voice like you’re scared. You nervously run your hands up and down his arms. Dan Heng doesn’t even think you’re aware you’re doing so. “I— I offered sex to you seriously, but— don’t just take my affection because you want to close the distance. There’s other ways to be intimate, you know?”

“I’m aware,” says Dan Heng. Your lips are just barely kiss bruised. He wants to make it worse. It’s an easier expression of the gulf in his chest that writhes with your closeness. “However, I want to fuck you.”

The dullness of your eyes is stolen as they widen. Heat rises in your cheeks. You’re stunned speechless.

...

Dan Heng wants to eat you.

As in, he wants to have you in his mouth, under his teeth and tongue, and get you in his gut so you never go away again. It’s— a draconic instinct. Something carnal and old that could swallow him alive. It is another overhang from Dan Feng. Such bloody impulses aren’t... uncommon for Dan Heng. However, he has learned to temper them with training, combat, and more recently, some expression of cloudhymn.

Never sex, however. Because your initial guess was correct. Dan Heng has not ever had sex, and the last time Dan Feng had had sex, he is fairly certain was a teary, bloody affair with a half-dead, bloodied Yingxing. 

This encounter, however, is very different.

There is no swirling Scalegorge and broken, coral-lined streets. There is no sand grating against his knees over Yingxing's almost-corpse. There is no tempest of his own making, cracking the sky in two, and tearing the world asunder.

Rather, there is his nest of blankets and pillows, and your soft body below him. He straddles your waist, protecting the curve of your thighs with his own. The lights of the Archive’s room are dim, the machine hum below is lulling background noise and comforting. And you— you’re warm— not cold or bloodied. Your eyes are soft, but keen in a different way from the man in the echoes of memory. There’s no sharpness to you, not in your words or your presence.

You’re gentle as you cup Dan Heng’s jaw and drag him closer to kiss him.

“You’re thinking pretty hard.” You murmur against his lips. “Are you sure you want this?”

The question makes him— angry. He still doesn’t know how to voice it, so instead he pressed you down into the floor. A bodily expression.

Your hands tangle in his hair and stroke at the lower curve of his skull. It’s gentle, rhythmic and lulling. It’s nothing like—

✶ — ✶ — ✶ — ✶

Yingxing tears at your scalp, hands wound into your long hair. His cock is buried in your throat, bullied there at your request. He’s seated so deep that your nose is buried in the bristly, silver hairs at the base of him. His scent is intoxicant, musky and unclean. Instinct tells you it’s impure, but you have learned that’s conditioning.

You want to swallow him whole.

You swallow around his cock as Yingxing grinds into your throat. You gag, you always do, but Yingxing ignores you in favor of fucking your face with more vigor. The sounds that drag from you are obscene. Ugly things, guttural sounds. Tears drip down your cheeks, spit down your chin—

✶ — ✶ — ✶ — ✶

You kiss him softly, pliant beneath him and snake a hand lower, easily. It’s practiced. Like you’ve done this a hundred times. The rhythm of intimacy seems easy. You palm over his increasingly hard cock and smile against his lips.

“Does it feel good?” you ask, voice soft and curling. 

Before Dan Heng can reply, you’re licking up his jaw, to his ear. You nip and suck and Dan Heng can’t help the way his eyes roll back in his head. He groans, rolling his hips against your hand. The friction is dry, but it’s something. Something new and different and not an arousing nightmare. But an arousing reality.

He moans at the contact. The sound startles him.

You seem pleased as you hum against his ear and kiss down from his most sensitive spot, lower, licking over skin with practiced motions. You nip at his collarbones, laughing under your breath when Dan Heng twitches with the pressure of it.

Dan Heng feels— thoroughly disarmed. The feeling grows more intense as you coax him to flip your positions in the next moment.

His back hits the mound of pillows softly. You cradle the back of his head as he moves and massage his scalp.

It’s— the care of it that feels different. There was clearly care between Dan Feng and Yingxing. Too much, in Dan Heng’s opinion— (they shared the kind of care that tore history asunder, love so brilliant and cloying that it could only bring sticky destruction). The kind you give him is different. There’s a warmth in your gaze which is foreign. Yingxing held passion and a brightly burning heat that would surely burn itself out too young. Branding heat.

Yours is tender, the warmth of a hearth you stacked and lit yourself. You beckon him closer with a smile on your lips and hands tangled in his hair. You tug on it, with the barest edge of pain. Dan Heng likes it. 

Your knee slots between his thighs, something to grind onto. He can’t help the way he yearns for more contact, and seeks the friction. His pants are too tight, but he doesn’t want to remove them yet.

✶ — ✶ — ✶ — ✶

Yingxing tears off your clothes. Your finest robes— the ceremonial ones, silks with intricate embroidery and beaded with perfectly cut crystals— are in tatters by your bedside within moments. Yingxing’s want is unyielding. The lips that move against your own are so much, and so good. You crave it. Yingxing licks into your mouth and you moan loud enough for your entire home to hear. Never mind your attendants and preceptors. 

Let them talk. Let them gossip. You have never cared for legacy regardless.

Yingxing rips away your undergarments. Gossamer things, thin and mostly see-through. You’re already hard, leaking, aching for touch. Yingxing spits on his palm and strokes you. He doesn’t stop as you squirm. You’re not used to touch, especially not like this. No matter how often Yingxing takes you like this, your body cannot fully acclimate quickly. 

It takes a moment.

Yingxing uses this to his advantage. He holds you like he has something to prove as he swipes away pre from the head of your cock and licks it off his thumb. He looks smug, smitten, vibrant, and enthralled.

“How many times can I make you come tonight?” Yingxing purrs, voice rough and silken all at once. You feel your cock twitch in his hand. He smirks. “What if I break you?”

“I’d throw you through a window.” You snap at him.

“You wouldn’t.” Yingxing rubs down to the base of your cock and plays with your most tender parts. You try to kick him and he catches your ankle. Yingxing, the bastard he is, presses a kiss to your ankle. Reverent. “You like it when I break you.”

“You’re terrible.”

“And I’m yours. And I’d like to make Yinyue-Jun cry tonight.” 

It’s— humiliating the way he speaks to you sometimes. He adores you. He loves you. And for that reason, he knows he can get away with goading you on and shoving you around as he does. He knows intimately what it all does to you. The way your cheeks flush and your cock leaks down its shaft are enough of an indicator. No one sees you bare. Just— him.

Just him.

✶ — ✶ — ✶ — ✶

Dan Heng starts to remove your clothes. 

You seem surprised when he does. You try to take over the task yourself, but Dan Heng bats your hands away.

He wants to do this.

Dan Heng is methodical with each button and overly careful. He watches the rise and fall of your chest, noting how it hastens as he works on the last few buttons. The garment is pushed off your shoulders and discarded into his nest.

Seeing you bare is— vulnerable. Surely. You attempt to smile but— Dan Heng sees the cracks in it. As lax as you try to be, this is something different for you as well. Another mystery woven into you that Dan Heng wants to pick apart.

He rubs at your hips, up your ribs and to your chest. You gasp with his touch, leaning back to brace yourself on his thighs. It exposes you more, and— gives him more room to indulge. He cups your breast and steels his resolve when you whine.

Dan Heng has never done this. He wasn’t sure he ever would. It feels foreign and odd to touch you this way, but Dan Heng likes it. The heat that rises in your cheeks when he pinches your nipples. The soft puffs of breath and the sweat of arousal that’s growing on your temple. You roll your hips down onto his clothed cock, seeking the same contact he does. 

There’s a tumble to it then. The task of disrobing continues, and you end up entirely nude on top of him, while Dan Heng is still fully clothed.

“... Is this more comfortable for you?” You ask. You aren’t... shy about your body. But there’s an unfamiliar squirm in your upper half that Dan Heng reads as discomfort.

You’re exposed. He is not.

“Somewhat.” Dan Heng lays his hand flat over his navel. He imagines what his cock would feel like inside you and he nearly blacks out.

“Why?”

Dan Heng thinks for a moment—

(It’s because Dan Feng liked power. He loved the games where he could have all of the power and control in his hands, and those where it was torn from him as well. He reveled in both. This— want is an afterburn. One that is not Dan Heng’s. Just like every other thought of intimacy and sex that Dan Heng has ever felt—)

“Dan Heng,” You breathe his name and pet his cheeks. You’re closer now, chest to chest. “Can you tell me why? It’s okay if you can’t.”

“It’s too complicated.”

“... Could you try to tell me, still? We have time.”

“I want to fuck you.”

“You can. After.”

Dan Heng frowns at you. He wants to tell you that— he wants it now. And that patience is something he has in spades but you are testing the limits of. Your poking and prodding, he wants to toss it aside in favor of the literal you in his lap.

He wets his lips as you look at him expectantly. You stroke over his cheek, soothing him as if he were an angry kitten.

“I like that—” Dan Heng starts, and his words die in his throat. What he wants to say—

(“I like that I can see all of you, while not revealing any of myself.”)

You seem like less of a mystery like this, bare and sweaty over top of him. There’s less of you that you can obscure. You’re not hiding from him, dodging him, or flaying him open with honesty while so much of you remains tucked away. You cannot hide your own arousal. Your cheeks are hot with it, your pupils dark and dilated, and your lips are licked and wet. 

“Hm?” You hum, a devious smirk stretching over your lips. You grind down onto his cock, with enough pressure that it almost hurts. His eyes roll back into his head. “Can’t you tell me, Dan Heng? Why do you like hiding the way you do?”

Dan Heng stills, opening his eyes to blink at your incredulously.

“... Why do ‘I’ hide?” Dan Heng asks. His tone is rude. He internally slaps his own wrists then forgives himself, because in the next moment, you have your palm over his cock, gripping the length of him through the fabric of his pants. You flick your thumb over where the head is concealed and look smitten with the way his hips jolt.

“I am not a fool.” You toy with the button on his trousers. “Dan Heng, the Nameless, who hides and hides and hides. And feels so infinitely bad when a single card in his hand is revealed. The shame you carry, doesn’t it burden you?”

Dan Heng’s mouth is dry, “I—”

“You can hide like this. I won’t stop you,” You hum, still smiling, still lax in the shoulders. You run a hand up his navel, over his shirt, careful to retain his frail modesty. “Perhaps a bit bashful, yes. But, you’re hiding. How can you crave intimacy when you’re seeking it from behind a veil? Dearest Dan Heng, I will indulge you, because you are dear to me, but will it be fulfilling—?”

You prattle on.

Dan Heng is... seething. Quietly and carefully. Because, you are not wrong. There’s truth to your accusations. You speak no lies, yet the way you’re... delivering the truth is frail and in fragments. Your own eyes look hazy. Your touch grows shaky. Your voice is too soft around the edges for the sharpness of your words. 

Dan Heng—

He knows that look.

✶ — ✶ — ✶ — ✶

You have never had sex before. 

You’ve read about it, because your Preceptors made sure you did when you were young. This was in the case that you were raped, that you would know what the experience was, so it could be reported in an appropriate and timely manner. 

Your exposure to sex beyond that was minimal. Though Vidyadhara copulated, it was not for the sake of procreation. It was based in pleasure, supposedly. You had learned that the humans and foxians of the Xianzhou had sex for the sake of pleasure and power which... you cannot understand. You don’t endeavor to understand it, as you have all of the power that you need. 

(You are naive for this, you will learn in time.)

The first time Yingxing implores you to have sex, you know the rote motions. You assume— that since he is a human, this is what he wants from you. You let Yingxing push you down on your own mattress, and you lay there. Yingxing speaks as he disrobes himself, then tends to you.

Each layer of clothing he removes from your body feels like you’re being cut with a knife.

You haven’t let any attendants dress you since you learned to adeptly use Cloudhymn to assist yourself instead. You frequently wear three, sometimes four, layers of silken clothing, even when you are around your own home. 

No one sees Yinyue-Jun bare.

And yet, Yingxing peels back each garment without much reverie. He undoes metal and mother-of-pearl clasps with a dexterous flick of his fingers and a dashing, sharp-toothed smile over his lips. 

You look down at his own chest when he pushes away the final layer. Your skin is milky, untouched cream. You’re too skinny, the muscle you have is wiry without enough fat. You watch your own chest rise and fall— so quickly. Too quickly. 

When you look up at Yingxing, whatever smile he had worn is gone. He wears concern so transparently over his brow as he cups your cheek. His lips move, and you do not hear him. Your own lips still move, an instinctual reply even if you do not register your own words. You can predict what you’re saying.

(“I am fine.)

(“There is no need to worry about me.”)

(“You are foolish for worrying about me.”)

Yingxing softens after you speak, and thumbs over your lips. The pads of his fingers are rough. You can feel the heat callouses, born of friction and incidental burns. It’s so much different from your own flesh, constantly-healing, pure and so rarely bruised.

Yingxing deftly falls to your side, and scoops you in his arms. He smells like iron and smoke. You’re stiff at his side. 

He speaks directly in your ear, nosing the shell of it, “As much as I would love to bed Yinyue-Jun, I can recognize when I need to be a gentleman about it.”

“... Pardon?” You swallow. Your voice is foggy in your own ears.

Yingxing’s hand settles on his hip. He pulls back just enough to look at you, nose to nose, violet eyes soft in the amber sway of candles in the room. 

“Yinyue-Jun is very brave, for a virgin.” This time, Yingxing smiles like a menace. You punch his back and he seems unperturbed. “Let’s take our time. You have plenty of it, and I have enough to show you how to enjoy this well.”

✶ — ✶ — ✶ — ✶

Dan Heng understands, then. 

In a smooth motion, he raises his palm to fit over your mouth. You stop speaking beneath it, and you snatch his wrist up in your own grip.

“If I am hiding, then so are you,” Dan Heng says. There is no waver to his voice anymore. “And you are terrified.”

You freeze above him.

It’s enough of an opening for Dan Heng to knit his legs with your own, and drag you down into his nest. He wraps his arms around you, chest-to-chest (covering you, hiding you himself, keeping you safe and sating that fanged, draconic howl in his chest that will never fully quiet). You remain stiff in his arms, eyes wide and you’re not smiling. 

Your gaze flickers up to his and holds it, unrelentingly.

“I don’t mind doing things scared.” You tell him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

“Will you enjoy it if you’re scared?”

“... Maybe less, but it’ll feel nice.” You shrug, nosing at his jaw. “I like you, Dan Heng. I wouldn’t have offered sex if I didn’t want to have it.”

Dan Heng locks his jaw. He noses down your jaw, down your neck, to the juncture where your shoulder meets it. The flesh is tender. You have your free arm draped carefully over your chest, covering your most exposed, vulnerable portions as he tries to do the same to you. Your breath is soft, bated as he hovers.

“I don’t want to have sex with you if it will only feel ‘nice’,” Dan Heng says into the hollow of your throat. 

“How demanding.”

The bar is on the fucking ground. “I do not think so.”

Dan Heng slides a hand lower, between your thighs. You’re only wearing shorts, soft amiri-cotton that sparkles in the lowlight of the archive’s room. It’s a thin garment. It takes nothing for Dan Heng to cup a hand over your sex. With dexterity and focus, he presses his middle finger closer. The seam of your cunt is wet, even through the fabric.

“Are you scared or nervous?” He asks.

“Hm, what about you?”

“Do not dodge my question.” He squeezes over your cunt and you clutch at his shoulders with a gasp. “Just answer it.” 

You consider his question, and open your mouth like you’re going to attempt to parry him, then close it again. Your lips are smooth, petal-soft as he thumbs over them, urging them to stay closed until you have an answer. 

Dan Heng struggles with eye contact, but forces himself to stare you down. 

“Both?” You ask behind his finger. There’s a hint of mirth behind your words.

Dan Heng frowns, “How can it... be enjoyable for you?”

“... That’s a good question.” You look far-off for a moment, not there in his nest. “Not quite sure, but I’m sure I can.”

There’s an implicit ‘I have before’ that you do not say. However, with the way your head falls limply to the side in his grip, Dan Heng immediately knows he hit one of your rare soft spots. He— he immediately regrets it. He’s in uncharted territory that he strong-armed his way into. And he— he doesn’t know the way out. He’s a sexless virgin who masturbates once every three months and his most emotionally (and sexually) charged relationship is with the living ghost of a man insistent on killing him.

✶ — ✶ — ✶ — ✶

Yingxing does not remember much of his youth.

Dan Feng knows this intimately. 

The short-lived have expiring memories that seem to muddle the old over time. Dan Feng cannot understand, as his memory is pristine and clear from the time he emerged from the ancient sea in a jade-colored egg.

Yingxing remembers the Zhuming, vaguely, and then remembers arriving on the Luofu. He vaguely remembers his first meeting with Baiheng, and sleeping on a little cot in her tiny apartment while he worked his way up in the Artisanship Commission. Lucidly, these are his earliest memories.

Outside of lucidity, Dan Feng knows Yingxing remembers more.

Occasionally, something will make Yingxing remember his unpleasant, smallest youth. The loud boom of the Luofu’s biggest fireworks. A snarling dog. Splintering wood. The scent of burnt hair.

It makes Yingxing stiffen, tense, and draw up in himself.

Dan Feng has done his own research early on. In his adolescence, Yingxing was nothing more than a scrappy refugee with nothing to his name.

Yingxing’s home planet, a lush-planet... abundant in jungle lands and river systems, was plundered by abundance. Borisins. Most of its population was wiped out. Yingxing escaped due to good fortune, luck, and no doubt sacrifices he couldn’t remember.

He understands Yingxing’s passion and revulsion much better after he learns these things. 

It all enrages Dan Feng.

Yingxing’s fragmented memory, which continues to weather with time, can only give him the basest impulses when faced with something that makes him remember that frightening time. Even if he cannot remember in the mind, then he does in the body.

Dan Feng does not tell Yingxing that he knows. Yingxing is too proud a man— he’ll take offense and cause trouble. Dan Feng thinks it is better that he himself hold the knowledge, and soothe him how he can. Dan Feng can stew within himself, hone Cloud Piercer, and cut those who slighted his beloved. 

It is something beyond duty. 

An expression of care, one that tastes briny and bloody on Dan Feng’s fangs.

✶ — ✶ — ✶ — ✶

“Can I help?” Dan Heng asks.

You blink at him. He strokes down your cheek. You hum and press your lips into his palm.

“Can you?”

“I— I will,” Dan Heng stammers. “How can I make this less... scary, for you?”

Can he?

Your gaze penetrates him. It’s something sharp, seeking. Looking for his weak spots for a moment. You’re searching for danger in him.

You soften and cozy up closer, a moment later.

“Just... take your time, and I’ll take mine.” You kiss him, and speak against his lips. “It’s easier if we both can ease into it.” 

Dan Heng nods. He... he wants to fuck you. He will.

...

You pick each other apart. Bit by bit, piece by piece. 

It is a slow affair, one neither of you truly lead. You spur Dan Heng on, and he follows. 

He guides you when he can, when it feels natural and normal. You seem content in those moments, more relaxed and soft-eyed.

You do not wear a full facade all of the time, but Dan Heng now knows that you are careful to keep yourself skillfully hidden. 

Dan Heng finds this out, intimately, while he is between your thighs, tongue against your slit. He laps at you, in the motions you describe. Your hands are buried in his hair, directing him with your grip and the gentle grind of your hips against his face. It is— heavenly. Your thighs around his ears, the scent of you. He left a few pointed bite marks on your thighs, which you had yelped at.

He enjoyed giving them.

You fall apart against his mouth in a way he hasn’t seen before.

It’s— so good to watch. When he looks up at you, you gasp, you whine, and throw your wrist over your mouth to muffle the sounds you’re letting out. Each gasp has Dan Heng earnestly trying to wring more out of you. He watches your eyes roll back as you crest. Your thighs clamp around his skull and a broken sound rips from your throat. He guides you through it, then moves to your hole, lapping at your essence until he’s sure he’s drenched in it.

You pull him up for a kiss, and lick into his mouth. Your hands shake as they pet over his cheeks and jaw. Against his lips, you tell him— “you did so well”, “that was so good”, “thank you” —

The praise is almost unbearable Dan Heng has to hide his burning face in your neck to escape the vulnerability of it. 

You pay it no mind, and just laugh at him, smothering your lips into his mused-up hair.

It’s— it’s good. It’s good and soft and nothing like the dreams he’s carried with him for fair too long.

“Did you enjoy that?” You ask him, forcing him to look at you.

“I did.”

“Good.” You’re smitten with the answer and rub at his waist. You’d— clawed off his shirt at one point. Bare to each other. Dan Heng only has on his final layer of underwear that is increasingly tight and wet, with a growing patch of pre on the front.

“Do you want me to suck you off?” You ask. Your hand, gentle, slides down his front, between your bodies to rub over his cock. 

Dan Heng— struggles to find words as you tease the head of it with the tip of a finger. The smile you wear is devilish. 

“Maybe later—” He manages. “I want to— be inside you.”

He wants to be closer.

You look content with that, and pet him some more.

“In due time,” You kiss his cheek. “Will you allow me to be cruel, and make you wait a little longer?”

“It’s not cruel.”

“Okay, mean then.”

“You’re the furthest thing from mean.” Dan Heng frowns. He bites your cheek in retaliation without thinking and you squirm, pinned beneath him. A laugh bubbles from your throat, and Dan Heng can’t help but twin the sound. 

“So kind.”

...

Time stretches out, between languid kissing and the feel of your bare bodies so close, the night and day cycles the Express regulates do not seem of consequence. It’s the most relaxed Dan Heng has been in recent memory. You make it easy to be so.

You have no expectations when you touch him, other than the easy exchange of heat and spit. 

By the time Dan Heng has your legs wrapped around your waist, cock against your hole, he’s light-headed. He wants, so much. The image of you laid out before him, bare and covered in various marks of his, will be with him for years. There’s nothing lazy or unfocused about your gaze now, there’s only desire, so hot and needy that it makes Dan Heng’s throat feel tight.

You flex your hips, pushing the tip of his cock against your clit. You both gasp.

“Please, Dan Heng?” You say smugly as you play with the sweaty hair at the nape of his neck. “Whenever you’re ready.”

“I—” The words die in his throat.

He strokes up and down the flesh of your stomach. Your muscles are relaxed, soft. You’re no longer playing a role, he thinks. You’re here, wanting, edging toward begging him. The head of his cock is purple from strain and prolonged arousal. 

He presses into you slowly.

You are stretched, and Dan Heng isn’t particularly large, so he does not see any strain cross your features. If anything, there’s relief. If you were relaxed before, you’re boneless now, taking as much of him as he will give you.

Dan Heng fucks you in earnest then, under the glow of the Archive’s many machines and fixtures. You grab at his shoulders and bury your face in his neck. Dan Heng didn’t think he shared Dan Feng’s proclivity for pain, however the way your nails wrack down his back has him throbbing from inside you.

By the time he spills inside you, he’s gasping, sobbing with each thrust because it is so much. Closeness— like this— that’s real and tangible and in his grasp and within his body (only his, no one else’s) feels so vibrant and violent, it cleaves him open. He comes with a broken sound muffled into your throat, sinking his teeth into the soft flesh there. You let him, spasming with the pressure and letting out your own half-cry with the pain. Dan Heng fucks you through his orgasm, until he can’t support his weight on his knees, and he falls on top of you.

You let out a little ‘oof’, and then laugh, wrung out and happy. 

Dan Heng cherishes the memory.

✶ — ✶ — ✶ — ✶

You are most tired, but you must continue to move forward.

Despite your aching rear and scratchy eyes, there are duties to attend to. Never mind that your husband is in your bed, knocked out, regardless of whatever regenerative cloudhymns you could give him. Yingxing is mortal, and no matter how much of you he consumes (figuratively), it only slows his aging, never stopping it completely.

Yingxing will die, long before you do. And that is if he dies of old age and not the diseases and maladies of the short-lived. Or some violence that you and the rest of the Quintet will be unable to protect him from.

This will not do.

You enter your study with sweeping, loose robes. You tell your attendants to leave you be. Your ritual obligations are not until the evening. Until then, you will be confine yourself in your study and continue to pour over the scrolls, documents, and books you have been able to find. It has been hard to procure some of them— having Sanctus Medicus texts brought to the home of the High Elder would be treasonous. It has required careful planning to amass the library you have, and you are diligent in keeping it hidden. Even from your lover.

He would not forgive you, were he to know.

You have never been selfish, not once in your life. In any of your lives. You have lived for your people, the Luofu, and a dead Aeon that you remain the after-image of. You have played the part well, smiled when necessary and remained cold enough to rarely stir dangerous interests. You have healed many without complaint.

As you settle into your nest of pillows and blankets, and pick up your newest scroll, you don’t feel that guilty. You will let yourself have this one thing. If nothing else in any of your lifetimes, this one fucking thing will be yours. 

You unfurl the scroll with a yawn. It’s a text, an old one, from the High Elder that followed Yubie. They lived a short life for a high elder, two hundred years. However, they were a prolific scholar. Most of their works have been hidden away with time, as some are downright blasphemous and utilize the Abundance in a way that both the Vidyadhara’s high council and the Luofu’s Charioteers could not tolerate. 

This particular one has not seen the light of day since that High Elder’s time. It is titled:

[The Twin-Hearted Dragon Theory: The Permanence and Abundance’s Coalescing] 

✶ — ✶ — ✶ — ✶

“What a weird one.” You say with a yawn. Dan Heng can hear your voice through your chest, where his cheek is pillowed on your bare chest. He— there’s a spot of drool that’s cooling unpleasantly. He blinks awake and rises off you, to rub the stickiness away, blushing furiously.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. It was cute. You were sleeping good, for once.” You tell him and muse up his hair. “Besides, you’ve gotten me far messier than that.” 

You both are messy. Dan Heng can feel the stickiness on his softened cock, and he imagines you’re leaking between your legs. He sneaks a hand between your body and gently feels along your thighs to confirm his suspicion.

You gasp when he grazes your core. You— you are dripping. Cold, too. It must be uncomfortable. Dan Heng frowns.

“Don’t worry about that.” You assure him, voice shaking. “We can clean up in a little bit.”

“Isn’t it uncomfortable?”

“Maybe,” you hum, unsure. “I don’t mind it, regardless.”

Dan Heng raises himself up off of you, and braces his hands on your inner thighs. He’s warmed with the combined heat of the Archives, his nest, and you. You’re chilled under him and— Dan Heng. Can’t have that. He can’t totally trace why, he pulls a blanket up and over your bodies. 

You let him arrange you as he sees fit. He brings you to his chest, and fits your head under his chin. He tangles your legs, indulges in the contact and tries to transfer some of his volcanic heat into you. You look content as he does, nuzzling into his throat. 

Your own eyelids droop.

“Are you going to sleep?” He asks. 

“... Probably not.” You say with a yawn.

“You look tired.”

“I am,” You nod and push closer. “But, I don’t need to, and it’s hard to get myself to sleep. It’s more trouble than it's worth, trying to sleep.”

Dan Heng doesn’t think before speaking. “Has it always been hard?” 

You pause, breathing even and slowly, “Not always.”

“Why did it get harder?”

You choose your words carefully then, despite your evident exhaustion. Your brow droops, and you rub at Dan Heng’s sides. Your thumbs skitter over his ribs.

“How much do you know about the Kin of Sacha, Dan Heng?” You ask. “It provides context. I’d hate to bore you.”

“... Very little. The databanks only has limited information.”

“Oh, you looked for me?” You nip at his jaw, playful, even as Dan Heng prepares a nervous rebuttal. You soothe his distress before it can get anywhere. “I’m kidding— and it makes sense there’s not much about us out there. There aren’t that many of us to begin with.”

“... How many?”

“I’m not sure, truthfully. Probably less than a thousand. Maybe half of that. Unless Sacha has... awoken to bless more. But I doubt that.”

You rarely mention the Aeon who provided you your sleeplessness and dream-seeing. You even more seldom mention anyone you knew prior to your time on the express.

You sign, “Typically, the Kin of Sacha work as mystics or laborers. Some societies we encountered saw the Aeon’s gifts as a psychic boon to be cultivated. Others, like the one I was raised in, saw the Kin as a well of infinite, tireless labor. You learn quickly under those expectations that even if you could sleep, it’s more ideal not to.”

Conditioning, then.

Dan Heng thinks back to when he first saw you at that rest stop. How you’d swayed on your two feet, eyes glassy and far away. How long they took to focus. How the embroidered logo on your breast must’ve belonged to whatever company you’d been under the employ of. Pieces fit together, and Dan Heng feels slightly sick.

“You don’t— need to be like that, now. You should sleep.”

With your hands braced on his chest, you lean back to look at him. Your gaze is soft, unguarded. You look almost plush with it. 

“... I guess I should.”

(I guess I could.)

That’s all it takes, really. You nearly collapse back into the nest, and Dan Heng settled himself to be curled around you. If— If he still deigned to manifest his Vidyadharan tail, perhaps it would be curled around you both. 

But, Dan Heng does not manifest any tail. You do not need to stay awake. You both rest under the filtered, soft light of the Archives, and that is all you must do. 

[lavandulawrites]

Futile

Yandere Kazuha x reader

To think I haven’t written a fic of Kazuha yet. He is my favourite character in genshin<3 Please come with asks/ requests regarding him:)

Synopsis: The white haired samurai’s idea of love was an idea of speckles of red and tight embraces. To hope to escape the clutches of the man you loved seemed futile.

Masterlist

Warnings: violence (not towards reader), murder, obsession, possessiveness, insane Kazuha, future forced marriage, manipulation

Word count: 689

The fire crackled in the little bonfire the silver haired samurai had lit. The fire illuminated his red eyes in a way that made them looked like pools of blood. Similar to the blood that had leaked out of the lifeless body of a man who had bothered you an hour ago. Kazuha had raised his blade without hesitation and pierced his heart. Blood had splattered on Kazuha’s face, a stark contrast with his pale skin.

You had fallen to your knees in shock. Kazuha had gently lifted you up in his strong arms and carried you back to your camp for the night. You had silently cried the whole walk back.

Now you had exited the tent and made your way over to the two wooden poles that were laid by the fire. You had taken a seat without saying anything.

After a while Kazuha broke the silence. “He had it coming you know. I could hear the commotion and smell his evil intent. I had to slay him. It was the only way. A beast like that cannot go around and taint the innocent. It would be an insult to the nature.”

His eyes met yours. “I cherish you more than anything and my love is deeper than what anyone could even hope to understand” his soft lips pulled up into a smile revealing the dimples that you loved so very much.

You cast your gaze down towards the ground. You could feel the samurai’s intense gaze. The wind rustled in the tree crowns, causing leafs to fall down. A half wilted leaf landed in your hair. Before you had the chance to remove it yourself, a carful hand removed it. When did he move to this side of the fire?

He lifted his hand closer to his face and studied the leaf. “So fragile…” his voice a soft whisper. You had a feeling he wasn’t talking about the leaf.

“It pains me to sense the smell of fear from you. It makes me want to store you away from all evil…” his eyes soft. He muttered to himself “Maybe I should do just that.”

You moved away when he twirled a strand of your hair around his fingers. “Stop. You are scaring me” your voice sounding less brave than what you intended.

His expression fell before he smiled. “My apologies my love. It is easy to forget how fragile you are” he tilted his head.

He studied your face in search of something. After awhile he brow the silence. “We need to get moving. The sooner the better. I would like to avoid traversing in the summer heat.”

“Where are we going?” your question stilled his movements. He looked at you with a blank face as thoughts raced his mind.

He swallowed, causing his Adam’s apple to bob up and down. “We are going to a village I am sure you would love. It’s rather different from the city you grew up in, but it’s charm is unique” his beautiful smile had returned.

You nodded slightly. “I see…” you looked away from the white haired swordsman and down into the grown.

“What are we going to do in the… village?” you asked with a meek voice.

The young man hummed. “We are going to get married” you didn’t need to look at him to know he was smiling.

Your fingers dug into you clothing as your mind raced. You knew there was no escaping him. You had tried. Many times, and it always ended the same. He killed everyone you had interacted with in your journey towards what you had hoped was freedom. Despite his gentle and seemingly kind nature, he had never felt any guilt for what he was doing.

In other words, escape was futile.

You turned your gaze up to met his awaiting crimson pools. You could see your reflection in them. Your eyes were wide with terror and your brows furrowed upwards in a frown.

“You’re going to love the ring I have picked out” his gentle voice as lulling as the sirens from the fairytales you heard when you were little.

[luci-is-a-bitch-x3x]

Obey Me! Older Brothers react to: Mc telling them "You look so handsome when you lie to me."

Other parts can be found here: Younger Brothers

━☆*:･ﾟ✧✧ ♡ ❀ ♡ ✧━

Welcome! to the first part of this adventure! The characters may not be how you imagine! I apologize for any poor jokes, bad spelling, and terrible grammar. Without further ado, please enjoy the content. ♡

━☆*:･ﾟ✧✧ ♡ ❀ ♡ ✧━━☆*:･ﾟ✧✧ ♡ ❀ ♡ ✧━

Lucifer

Mc had stopped by to see Lucifer after dinner. Knowing Lucifer was busy as his paperwork was never ending, Mc had decided to bring him some tea to try and help him out, Lucifer proposed that Mc stay and keep him company for awhile and Mc had happily accepted, this is what led Mc to be tiredly sitting on one of the couches in Lucifer's study, mindlessly playing on their D.D.D. The hours passed but everytime Mc looked at the mountain of paperwork Lucifer had to work on it always looked the same, actually Mc could almost swear it grew a few times. Mc was getting to the point where they could barely keep themselves awake, their eyes were heavy and their head kept bobbing as they would nod off and wake up just as fast.

Mc really wanted to stay up and keep Lucifer company, it was the only help he would let them provide. The fight to stay awake was becoming increasingly hard as they realized how warm the study felt and how comfy the couch felt. Was the couch always this comfy? It was probably just due to how tired they were, but the couch felt like a soft pillow engulfing them and luring them to sleep. "If you are tired you should go to bed my dear" Lucifer's deep comforting voice almost pushes Mc straight to sleep but they reluctantly sit up with a yawn and a stretch. They want to protest but when they turn and see the serious stern look on Lucifer's face they decide not to, instead they sigh and stand from their place on the couch. Walking over to Lucifer, with a tired wabble in their step, they wander over to him sitting at his desk, rubbing their eyes they smile tiredly. 'goodnight Lucifer' they mumble before quickly kissing the oldest brothers cheek. "Goodnight Mc, rest well" Lucifer runs his hand across Mc's back comfortingly as they turn and walk towards the door to his study, Lucifer is back to focussing on his paperwork just as quickly. He doesn't notice Mc pause in the doorway of the study and give him a glance over, even though they know it's useless Mc says- 'you should go to sleep soon too Lucifer. Sleep is important the paperwork can wait until tomorrow' Mc isn't suprised that Lucifer doesn't look up from his paperwork and Mc isn't suprised that he still doesn't look up as he tells them a white lie to try and ease their worries- "I'll head to bed soon Mc, I'm just going to finish a few more papers. You don't have to worry"

'You know, you look so handsome when you lie to me Lucifer.' That sentence has Lucifer looking up at Mc suprised but amused, he's suprised Mc called him out for lying and amuses they did it while complimenting him. Lucifer fights hard to not smile at Mc, instead he flashes a playful smirk at Mc. Once Mc leaves to go to bed he finally lets himself smile and maybe even blush a little. His human was getting bolder and he would need to be more careful on what lies he told them, he might just have to say certain ones more often if he'll get to hear Mc tell him he looks handsome while lying again. Lucifer spends the rest of the time he's awake doing paperwork thinking about Mc. I imagine hes like a teenage girl when their texting their crush, like mans is kicking his feet hes all smiley and giggling on the inside, on the outside mans is cold stone so nobody would ever know, but Mc should definitely do it again. He gets pride being complimented or praised by Mc, he loves Mc calling him handsome mans eats it up, yes Mc stroke his ego some more and it made him being called out on lying more playful. Not like the lie was a harmful anyways. He just genuinely enjoyed the experience and even if Mc doesnt do it again Lucifer will still sometimes think about it.

Mammon

Mc was doing Mc things, yk handling a bunch of demon man babies, basically keeping the Devildom undercontrol, helping angels & an old man wizard, when Mammon comes bursting into their room all koolaid style dude. Mammon makes himself at home, flopping down on their bed and immediately pouring out all his troubles so Mc can give him solutions. Mammons one constant problem besides debt, is not having Grimm. Whats the Avatar of Greed to do without Grimm?? Well obviously he's going to come to his human, complain his brothers won't give him any Grimm, and then try and get his human to give him Grimm.

Normally his human would crack the first or second time he asked, but they were being especially stubborn today, but Mammon is persistent! "Come on Mc! I just need a couple hundred Grimm! Help me out and I'll never ask you for Grimm again!!" Mc who had been staring at Mammon with a blank expression finally smiles and says- 'You look so handsome when you lie to me' Mammon is about to argue about the lying part but his words get caught in his throat as his brain processes the handsome part. The second eldest brother blushes and is immediately a flushed tsundare. "O-Oi -of course you find The Great Mammon handsome!" Mammon tries to seem confident and play it off, but his face is bright red and he avoids eye contact with Mc.

Mammon just sits there blushing for awhile Mc continues doing their thing, happy that they were able to get Mammon to stop begging for Grimm. After 5-10 minutes Mammon snaps out of his embarressed state, Mammon's greed takes over, he needs to hear Mc compliment him more and have all of Mc's attention like that. Mammon promptly starts begging Mc to call him handsome again, when Mc ignores him, Mammon whines and makes a big deal out of wanting compliments. Mc stands their ground and continues to ignore Mammon's antics until Mammon pops in front of them and practically throws himself onto their lap, Mammon still has a small blush on his face, but he confidently spouts tsundare nonesense- "Oi! Stop complaining! You should be grateful The Great Mammon is sitting on you're lap! Now lemme hear yah' call me handsome again." Mammon will stubbornly stay sitting on Mc's lap until they give in and call him handsome again. The only problems is that this becomes a normal occurance, Mammon will burst into Mc's room at random, flop onto their lap and hold them hostage until he gets his fill of compliments or until Mc or one of his brothers force him off of Mc. Mammon will do this anywhere, at R.A.D, while shoping, anytime he's feeling greedy for Mc's attention and affection he'll pull this tactic, especially if he gets jealous.

Leviathan

Mc was hanging out with Levi in Levi's room. Like normal. Levi was currently ignoring Mc's pressence, focusing more on the game he was playing. Levi had been playing this game nonestop for the past week, Mc wasn't angry but they were getting tired of his half assed answers, he didn't even try & act like he was listening to them! Mc was so sure he wasn't listening to them, they just had to prove it. Mc sat there plotting for a bit, before they finally came up with a perfect plan. Mc waits a bit before casually starting to talk to Levi again- 'hey Levi are you listening to me?' "Mhm" 'you're gonna take a break sometime soon right' "yeah sometime" 'you look so handsome when you lie to me like that Levi.' Levi continues to play his game for about a minute or two before Mc's words register on him. As soon as Levi realizes what Mc said he whips his head around to look at them in shock, tomato red Levi activated. Levi sits there stammering for words, to flustered to do anything other then open his mouth make a weird noise and then close his mouth again.

Levi definently looks like a fish just opening and closing his mouth for a couple of minutes. Levi's game he'd previously been playing, gets forgotten about by the flustered demon. Him not playing causes his character to die and a 'you lose' screen to pop up, but Levi doesn't notice, he's to busy staring at Mc like a deer stares at headlights. Levi finally snaps out of his shock, he stutters as he starts talking a mile a minute causing his words to jumble together- "Y-You can't j-just do that!!! You have to give me a warning!! I m-mean yesiliedbutitreallywasntmyfault! You'regoingtogivemeaheartattacksayingthatkindofstufftomewithoutawarning! Itwasuncalledforandunwarranted,thisiswhyIdon'tlike Y-You Normies!!" (For those who couldn't read that^: -yes I lied but it really wasn't my fault! You're going to give me a heart attack saying that kind of stuff to me without a warning! It was uncalled for and unwarrented, this is why I don't like-)

Give him a few minutes of ranting like that none stop and he'll calm down, he'll still be flustered but he'll be chill enough to hang out with. Now that Levi lost his game and is focused on Mc, he'll put on an anime for Mc and him to watch together. Levi will somehow get brave enough to put his head on Mc's lap as the two watch anime together. Levi may mutter into Mc's thighs how he wouldnt mind hearing Mc call him handsome agian sometime, so if Mc ever needs his attention or wants to see him flustered they just have to call him handsome and watch him become a puddle at their feet.

━☆*:･ﾟ✧✧ ♡ ❀ ♡ ✧━━☆*:･ﾟ✧✧ ♡ ❀ ♡ ✧━

Thats all for now babes! Hope you enjoyed!! ♡ This is not proofread. Feel free to comment or reblog any thoughts or any add ons you have. This has been in my drafts for a bit, but my phone broke for awhile so I haven't been able to make any new content. I got a new phone though so more content is coming soon & a second part with the younger brothers will be out sometime! Stay Tuned! Stay Safe! & Stay Spooky!

━☆*:･ﾟ✧✧ ♡ ❀ ♡ ✧━

⟡˙⋆Masterlist⋆˙⟡

[cottonlemonade]

A medium fruit punch with frozen berries for Sugawara please?

Midnight Teachings

word count: 1579 || avg. reading time: 7 mins.

pairing: post-time skip!Sugawara x chubby!Reader

genre: fluffy smut, established relationship

warnings: mdni, spoilers, smut

request: fluffy-spicy, midnight with boyfriend Sugawara

Koushi made it easy to fall in love with his warm smile, his genuine kindness and the mischievous side he only showed to you once he knew you were on the same wavelength. When you moved to Japan to start your new job, you were determined to focus. Focus on learning the language and culture and focus on the kids under your care. Since your Japanese was rudimentary at best the head of the kindergarten thought it wise to keep you in the administration part of the job to acclimate before letting you roam around the children. But Koushi made the effort to get to know you from day one. You couldn’t stop throwing glances at the handsome man leaning leisurely against the counter with the coffee maker, as he tried his best to make you feel welcome with slow and simple Japanese sentences as well as surprisingly good English. His strong accent was immediately endearing and you found your eyes following him when he left the room to get back to his class.

He had caught up to you on that Friday of your first work week, brushed a few of spring’s cherry blossom petals out of his hair like some dreamy anime character and asked if he could maybe offer his help with improving your Japanese. The best method, he concluded, would be by going out after school for a coffee. The relaxed atmosphere of a coffee shop always helped him think, he added with a grin.

“That sounds a lot like a date.”, you had joked and felt your cheeks growing hot at the brazen statement. Of course, you knew better than to think that a Japanese man would be that forward.

“Then you would be right.”, he had said and given you one of his smiles that already had you weak in the knees.

The dates quickly became more frequent. He would walk you home afterwards and you’d text until late in the night - all in the name of teaching, of course. But after a month of having him as your private tutor he finally worked up the courage to confess and you were finally his.

__________________

“Koushi? You know what I just realized?“, you asked one night. Your head was in his lap as you watched TV at his place. The midsummer heat was too relentless, even this late, to allow any outside activities so you two had decided to stay in for the day and enjoy the fickle luxury of his temperamental air conditioning. He continued to comb his fingers through your hair.

“Hm? What‘s that, darling?“

“How does one learn dirty talk in a different language?“

He choked on his glass of water.

“Where did that come from?“, he coughed.

You sat up and looked at him.

“I was just thinking about the other night. I‘m guessing you didn‘t learn those things in English class.“, you grinned, “So where did you pick it up?“

“Uhm…“ He avoided your eyes and chuckled nervously.

“An old girlfriend?“, you asked, trying not to sound too jealous.

He quickly shook his head.

“Hmm, porn?“

When he didn‘t say anything you figured you hit the nail on the head.

“Baby, you don‘t have to be embarrassed for watching porn. But I‘m wondering, would you like it if I learned some in Japanese?“

You saw his Adam's apple bob up and down in his throat as he swallowed.

“I mean… I would definitely not say No to that.“, he said slowly, his usual grin returning.

Excited that your idea was a good one you got off the couch and went over to your bag to retrieve your tablet.

“Alright. I‘ll go study then!“, and you made to head towards his bedroom.

“Honey!“, he laughed and jumped off the couch, “You don‘t have to watch that.“

“But I want to.“, you pouted, then added, “Learn, I mean.“

He thought for a moment, then a rather familiar glint shone in his eyes and he took your hand.

“I have a better idea.“

You drew the thin bedsheet closer to you to hide your naked figure as you watched him shed his shirt and sweats, leaving him only in his boxers - the cute ones with the fish-print.

He joined you on the bed, laying next to you propped up on his elbow. You could see he was already half hard and you bit your lips at the thought of - “Hey, sweetheart, my eyes are up here.“, he chuckled.

“Yes, sensei.“, you said automatically.

“Now, let‘s start with an easy one. Repeat after me.“

“Oh, I know this one!“, you called with a beam.

“Yeah?“, he nuzzled against your arm, “And what did it mean?“

You readily turned your head to one side to give him free access to your neck.

“Very good.“, he said and leaned in to brush his lips against the sensitive skin. The kisses quickly became hot and opened mouthed and you squeezed your plush thighs together under the blanket, feeling like you would drip on his bed at any moment.

“Then, let‘s try something a bit more advanced.“, he said after feeling like he had kissed your neck enough for the lesson. The next phrase was a lot more difficult.

“No idea.“, you admitted.

“Then just repeat it and see what happens.“, he grinned, raising his brow.

You squinted playfully. “What if you‘re teaching me unspeakable things?“

“Don‘t worry, sweetheart. I‘ll only teach you things I already know you love.“

So you repeated the phrase. He made you say it twice.

With gentle but deliberate movements he brushed the blanket out of your hands and guided you onto your back. He hovered for a moment above you, asking you to repeat the words one more time, then dipped his head lower to run his tongue over your breasts. With his tip he circled your pert nipples before taking them into his mouth, humming quietly. He loved this just as much as you. His hand reached up to cup your other breast, bringing the second nipple closer to him so it wouldn‘t feel left out and he spent the next few minutes driving you insane between soft squeezes and hard sucks, nibbling on your soft flesh every now and then. You felt his hard cock rub against your thigh through his boxers.

When you were close to your first orgasm he stopped and laughed at your indignant whine.

You were hesitant to repeat the next phrase. What if it was more edging? You weren‘t sure you could take any tonight, the sheets beneath you already felt soaked.

“Well?“, he asked, waiting for you to say the new words.

“I understood “please“ but the rest, no idea. So…“

Once the phrase left your lips, your boyfriend scooted lower on the bed, pushing the rest of the pesky blanket out of the way. He groaned when he grabbed at your pudgy tummy. You were nothing short of a goddess to him and he had spent many nights before happily worshiping every inch of your ravishingly plump body.

He trailed kisses along your stomach and thighs before settling between them. You were so very wet for him he could barely control himself. The sight and smell alone had him almost cum untouched.

“One more time, darling. Repetition is the best way to learn.“, he said softly, running his tongue over your inner thighs.

Once you finished the phrase he grinned. “So polite…“ And he dove between your legs.

“Ah, Koushi… don‘t stop… nngh… more…“, you panted, reaching down to grab his hair. He moaned into your pussy and wrapped his arms around your thighs to pull you against him, to taste more of you. You were so close from his earlier teasing that it only took a few slurps and flicks of his tongue until you unraveled. Looking up at you he licked his lips, “Thank you for the meal, sweetheart. - Have some water before we continue.“, he straightened and sat back on his heels, the large imprint in his boxers was completely undeniable now. You rolled over to grab a bottle from the nightstand and stayed laying on your tummy as you took small sips, your head still spinning.

“You ready for more?“, he asked. His voice sounded shallow like he was trying to catch his breath. You nodded, then squeaked when his hands grabbed at your waist and pulled you backwards towards him so that you were on your hands and knees, grinding against him.

You were strongly hoping that the next sentence was supposed to be mean something along the lines of “Please dear god, just fuck me. I can‘t take it anymore, I need you inside me. Please just fuck me, please.“, but it was too short.

Instead you felt his hand come down on the right cheek of your ass.

“Ah, Koushi…“, you whined, then repeated the sentence. He landed another soft spank on your flesh, making sure to massage it immediately after impact.

Sweat trickled down your back and Koushi himself brushed wet strands of hair out of his face that clung to his forehead.

“Harder…“, you mumbled into his pillow.

He smirked and leaned forward, pressing his chest and stomach flush against your back. He reached around to grab at your breasts and gave your ass another quick hit, rubbing the palm of his hand greedily against your sinnfully soft flesh.

You turned your head to meet his lips. “You‘re such a fast learner, darling.“

a/n: this particular Suga story plot has been simmering and lurking in my brain for so long. Thank you for giving me a request I could use this for! I hope you liked it! 🌟

[laracrofted]

save a horse, read a rhett abbott fic

outer range's second season has me wanting to read and reread rhett abbott fics, and while i'm scrolling through my reblogs, i wanted to share some of my favorites with all of you. please remember to show your love to these writers with your comments and reblogs!

universes + series

right cowboy, wrong time by @chemistryread (please read the author warnings, but one of my favorite rhett fics of all time and one i've reread countless times)

linger by @bobfloydsbabe (helena is such a good writer, and i can't wait to see where this series goes)

yellow soul by @creatchie8 (if you don't like cheating, you'll probably want to skip this one, but i am seated by every update of this fic because wow, the tension is unreal.)

flowers in november by @delopsia (you'll see del's name on here a few times, but damn, what a cool series)

the wolf by @lewmagoo (i'm not done with this series, but if you love a werewolf au, leah has created such a cool universe here, it's a must read)

dilf!rhett x babysitter!reader universe by @rhettabbotts (shelby's brain is so big for this universe, do yourself a favor and go introduce some dilf!rhett into your life.)

rhett x reader x bob universe by @delopsia (del has a real name for this universe, but it's leaving my brain right now. anyway, i love love love what del's created with them. blow your mind and streetlight glow are personal favorites, ahem)

one shots + drabbles

it's a bad idea, right? by @/rhettabbotts (if rhett was my ex-boyfriend, i'd fold in like 3 seconds, i'm sorry)

come home to me by @callsignspark (you can read and reblog winter and/or christmas fics all year, shut up, rhett is so soft in this lovely fic)

odds are stacked by @sunlightmurdock (he's fucked up and mean, and i need him, sorry)

son of a preacher man by @bradshawsbitch (alex wanted me dead with this one)

horsemanship by @/bradshawsbitch (most of these recs are smutty, but genuinely one of the best character studies of him)

dancing beneath the moon by @/delopsia (at this point, you should know to read del's entire library, but i have such a soft spot for this fic in particular.)

gentle, rough, loving by @sebsxphia (seb has so many good drabbles and fics for rhett, but i had to call this one out because it's such a perfect representation of him)

afternoon delight by @bradshawsbaby (he is so sheepish and so playful, and i love him)

million dollar man by @/lewmagoo (another writer with an amazing library of rhett fics you should check out, but i do love this one shot in particular. i need that old man, and i need him now.)

you're responsible for your own fic consumption so please read any and all author warnings, and again, please show love to your local fic writer who understands this character better than the people who are paid to write him do 😌

[aromanticannibal]

mha characters that are aro for CANON reasons (read: in which I reach increasingly further for canon evidence):

(Disclaimer: some of these can be evidence of characters being something else than aro (or ace) but this is my post and I can do whatever I want + /hj to /j to everything on there, when I say I start reaching I start REACHING. These are headcanons!)

Aizawa Shouta doesn't ever show romantic (or sexual) interest in anyone and is actively put off by Ms Joke hitting on him and the idea of getting married to her

All Might has NO experience with women according to Horikoshi (could also mean he has experience with men but y'know)

Ashido Mina really wants to be in a relationship but never fell in love (cupioromantic moment)

Both Bakugou Katsuki and Todoroki Shouto hide from girls crushing on them near the end, don't ever show romantic interest in anyone or get anxious or flustered near girls, Katsuki especially apparently never cared about girls (and vice versa) before and and Shouto specifically doesn't notice when he's hit on.

Iida Tenya is never interested in girls or men and is significantly more focused on both his studies and his friendships

My favorite headcanon: Uraraka Ochako's love for Izuku seems founded more on her admiration and people telling her she must like him (because boy and girl etc) than in actual romantic love, and she connects a lot with Toga (who also loves people in a non-conventional way)

Midnight doesn't have a romantic partner or anyone she regularly flirts with despite being a very beautiful and desired woman, and doesn't seem to have had any kind of romantic relationship with the three boys more or less her age she hung out with a lot (the rooftop trio) (she can also be seen as a cliché of aroallo person who only cares about sex so I'm claiming her).

Pixie Bob's obsession with finding a partner is giving "I've been told all my life that I HAVE to get married and I don't want to so I keep looking for the perfect match and not finding it because the man I'm looking for doesn't exist because I won't ever fall in love". Because by god you can't tell me the cute blonde catgirl isn't finding a boyfriend.

All For One only cares about his brother, I'd even argue he's aromantic asexual aplatonic etc. a-everything except familial and idk. quirkic. attracted to quirks.

Mount Lady is aro for the same reason as Midnight but because I think it's implied or canon that she's dating Kamui Woods, she's lower.

Midoriya Izuku is green so he's obviously aromantic and most of his flustered reactions to girls seem based more on shyness (and an obvious reaction to getting boobs shoved in his face) and sexual or aesthetic attraction than romantic attraction (he also has a very romcom view of what being boyfriend girlfriend is, ie. his reaction to Toga's confession)

Aoyama Yuuga's definition of love (according to his comment on Ochako being in love with Izuku because she was thinking "what would Deku-kun do?") is very weird and seems based more in things he was told or saw in fiction than feelings he would have felt himself.

Yoarashi Inasa is just so fucking weird with friendships and social cues he looks like he's trying to navigate the world while making absolutely sure NO ONE misinterprets him, which makes him both very aro and very autistic in my book

Kurogiri is literally a bunch of mist with little free will whose purpose in life is protecting this one boy, he's all the As.

Endeavor married for insane reasons and never even cheated on Rei after he sent her to the hospital (which a lot of men his caliber would do)

Ms Joke makes the idea of dating Shouta a joke and I think that's great. She's also green.

Miruko's chill and doesn't give a fuck, she's a fighting person, very Katsuki-coded in that regard I fear. She also works alone without an agency, which is giving aromantic for no reason other than I Said So.

Toga Himiko is a queer allegory that is generally interpreted as bisexual and biromantic but I think she can be interpreted as aroallo as well (way to love that’s seen as impure and unholy etc etc, notions of consent – taking people’s blood and hurting them without their consent which is for her a way to show her love, most of her attraction seeming physical or aesthetic rather than romantic, her parents telling her to repress repress repress instead of satisfying her desires in a safe way, the scene where she’s biting her wrist in her sleep???? etc etc) 

Twice never had a lot of friends and never had a lot of female friends and when he feels gratefulness and care for Toga it outwardly seems romantic because he doesn’t know what’s romantic and what’s not and hasn’t had a lot of female friends 

Dabi is giving aromantic aplatonic who only really loves his family but due to circumstances can’t love them healthily and ends up just hating them (the most intense feelings of love he shows are always towards Enji or Natsuo, and his apology to Shouto makes me think Shouto is also included in this – no evidence for Fuyumi and Rei but I can do what I want. He clearly cares for Twice and Toga too but it presents very differently, even after he’s revealed himself and doesn’t need to be as secretive). 

Shigaraki Tomura probably just doesn’t give a shit I’d say. He’s pretty apathetic when he isn’t fighting or angry or like doing his hatred thing, but he clearly cares about his teammates. 

Fatgum is foodpilled and studentpilled. He really loves food and he really loves his students he doesn't need no romantic relationship.

Jirou Kyoka takes a bit to warm up to Denki so I think she's demiromantic actually

Bruce (the third user of One For All). He just has such third wheel vibes.

Intelli Saiko because why would she bother with romance, it's so unpractical and illogical

Despite asking for boys' numbers all the time and being very aware of romance, Utsushimi Camie looks like she could NOT CARE LESS. aro

The fact that Hawks plays up the flirting with his fans is giving aromantic to me – obviously heartbreaker aroallo stereotype but I think he could also be ace, the aroallo part isn’t that important, it’s just that he’s always pretending. It’s giving still in the closet. Also I know he’s young and busy and Horikoshi doesn’t really put that much casual romance in MHA but it’s so funny that there isn’t even a sliver of a girlfriend implied in his timeskip. Hawks is Married To His Job. 

Star and Stripe is also absolutely married to her job. Also, lots of guys around her, lots of important and admired male figures in her life, and yet not a single crush from her. Points. Aromantic lesbian 

Nezu is a fuckass mouse I highly doubt he's attracted to humans in any way

Gran Torino is a single old man which is enough for me (though because I hate that fucker I think it'd be funny if women just hated him)

Where Is Shimura Nana’s Husband. 

Muscular only likes to kill, he doesn’t need romance nor sex, his only desire is Killing People and fighting. Same thing for Moonfish, he only wants to eat people (mood my guy) 

Geten is very hyper focused on making his quirk stronger, he doesn’t seem to really have any relationships.

Overhaul just fucking hates people

Again, Kendo Rappa only cares about fighting.

So so sad because I like his girlfriend but Natsuo is giving marrying to get away from his father

Koda Koji just had the vibes. He's so aroace to me. (aro Koda brain vs kodajirou brain fight)

Monoma Neito is such a fucking hater he just has to be aromantic

Wash is a washing machine

Honorable mentions:

List of characters whose only argument is they never show romantic attraction and don't talk much about romance or get flustered: Shouji Mezo, Sato Rikido, Tokoyami Fumikage, Shinsou Hitoshi, Yaoyorozu Momo, Sero Hanta, Hado Nejire, Togata Mirio, Shirakumo Oboro, Present Mic, Seiji Shishikura, Ryukyu, Gang Orca, Shishido, Centipeder, Ectoplasm, Hound Dog, Thirteen, Vlad King, Mandalay, Tiger, Lady Nagant, Mr. Compress, Tsukauchi Naomasa, Todoroki Rei and Fuyumi, Melissa Shield.

List of characters whose only argument is "they're green so they're obviously aromantic": Asui Tsuyu, Ibara Shiozaki, Tokage Setsuna, Kamakiri Togaru, Midoriya Inko, Ragdoll, Burnin, the Sludge Villain (I’m taking all I can get), Mustard, Ordinary Woman.

Bonus: characters that I can't make aromantic no matter how hard I try under the cut:

Gentle and La Brava, for obvious reasons. I feel like making them not love each other is like illegal.

Kudo and Yoichi. By god my brain will not accept it they're in love.

Amajiki Tamaki. I'm sure he could be aromantic but I can't let go of the Mirio and Nejire crushes (which are so real and true to me)

Yuyu (Nejire's friend), she also looks way too much like she has a giant crush on Nejire. Lesbian moment.

Best Jeanist and Edgeshot, they're giving high school sweethearts.

I put them in honorable mentions but I just have to mention Gang Orca and Shishido somewhere because the one baseball OVA made me think they're like the pseudo-enemies/rivals who argue all the time but somehow fight extremely synchronized when needed and ONLY fight each other because they're the only ones Worth It etc which is. Y'know. eye emoji etc etc

Sir Nighteye is literally in love with All Might

David Shield is literally in love with All Might

No really did you see David's wife? This man went and found a blonde blue eyed wife when he couldn't marry his blonde blue eyed best friend. His daughter looks like an All Might secret love child. I know whenever Dave hears Melissa call All Might uncle he dies a little inside because he wishes she could call him Dad too and he could call Toshinori his darling husband and

Rock Lock is happily married and I could never take that away from him

Spinner is green so I can kind of see him as aro but he’s giving madly in love with Shigaraki so much

Magne has a crush on Dabi in one of the Smash strips which is too funny to ignore I think she’s madly in love with him. And she’s right

I like kirimina so fucking much I genuinely struggle to come up with aro Kirishima headcanons. I think he could be quoiromantic but I also think he’s madly in love with Mina so I don’t know. 

Stain is literally in love with All Might

Ending (guy who attacked Natsuo) is literally in love with Endeavor

Garaki Kyudai is literally in love with All For One (“I miss your eyes” guy is so fucking devoted. The true doomed yaoi of MHA)

I know Rody is in love with Izuku he just has to be. 

To me Shindo Yo also has a crush on Izuku but also he's canonically dating Nakagame Tatami which is also cute.

[positivexcellence]

Is there garlic on this pizza? An oral history of Supernatural's 'Monster Movie' episode

THE BEGINNING

What started as a simple enough idea — a black-and-white episode — was then put into the hands of writer Ben Edlund, who’d already crafted some of the show’s more creative hours, including “Hollywood Babylon,” which marked one of the series’ first meta episodes, and “Ghostfacers,” which was shot like a cheesy ghost-hunting reality show using handheld cameras. Alongside Edlund was director Robert Singer, an executive producer on the series and a massive movie fan himself.

ERIC KRIPKE (Creator): I was an obsessive fan of The X-Files and in their prime, they got really bold and adventurous with their format, and they had a black-and-white episode. I was always hoping that we could start taking those same kinds of swings. I remember saying, “I want to do a black-and-white episode where Sam and Dean are up against the classic movie monsters.” But I think Ben came up with the shapeshifter. We were trying to figure out: How do you get a mummy and a werewolf and a Frankenstein and a Dracula in the same episode? That makes no f---ing sense. So this idea of a shapeshifter who loved those movies and was ultimately just a fanboy was the secret to cracking that one open. 

ROBERT SINGER (Director): I think that script was Ben at his best. I was really happy that I was in line to direct because I really loved those old movies, so it was fortuitous that I got to do it. 

JENSEN ACKLES (Dean Winchester): It’s all just paying homage to the old-school ways of doing things, which having Bob at the helm, he’s seen all those movies time and time again, so he was the perfect guy to direct this episode. 

KRIPKE: Bob has an encyclopedic knowledge of movies, especially older films. He’s a classicist and his directing style is a lot of that kind of beautiful, elegant Hollywood style, and I think he just really relished it.

SINGER: I shot generally with wider lenses than I would normally do with Supernatural to try to give it some of that old-time feel. I really took pains to make it look as old fashioned as I possibly could. I’m a big fan of James Whale, who had done Frankenstein, and there are a lot of great crane shots in those movies, so I did a lot of crane work in this. We did a lot of shadow play. 

JARED PADALECKI (Sam Winchester): You put Ben Edlund on writing and Bob Singer on directing and magic is bound to happen.

But there was another piece of the puzzle that needed to come together for the magic to truly work: Who would play the shapeshifter (and therefore spend the episode doing their best Dracula)? The answer was Todd Stashwick.

TODD STASHWICK (Dracula): They wanted a full-on replication of Bela Lugosi’s performance. I had the DVD of the 1930’s Dracula, so I was watching that just to get the mannerisms and vocal intonation down so that I wasn’t doing a Xerox carbon copy but rather actually trying to get that Hungarian dialect that he has. I went in [to the audition] and just swung for the rafters.

SINGER: We had him do one of the Dracula scenes and then do the speech where he’s telling her how he became the way he became and Todd just killed it. That was an easy call to cast him.

STASHWICK: They wanted to know that you were going to be able to bring both sides to it, the full-on studied Dracula performance and then to let that mask drop and see the wounded man that is the monster. 

KRIPKE: We needed someone who could stick the landing on the Dracula part and that’s really hard. It’s hard to do it and have it not come off like a bit. Todd is a remarkable mimic of Bela Lugosi and brings humanity and soulfulness and depth to it. There’s something in his eyes that made it deeper and sadder than had you cast someone who was just going for an impersonation.

PADALECKI: That episode belongs to Todd Stashwick. He’s so damn good. 

Alongside Stashwick was Melinda Sward, whose character Jamie, a local waitress, caught Dean's eye and marked a first for the show. 

KRIPKE: At the time, there was a young female fan named Jamie. She and her mother would write us letters and they were super fans, and we were still early enough that we’re like, “I can’t believe there’s fans.” Jamie had medical issues, so when the season was coming up, I wrote her a response and said, “If you concentrate on getting better, we’ll name a character after you.” And she responded and said, “That’s amazing, but can you just do me a favor? Can you make sure it’s a character that doesn’t die?” So the female lead in this one we named Jamie. That was one of the only times we ever named a character after a real person and a fan. The happy ending is she was thrilled and she grew up healthy and now tours around with a replica of the Impala. 

ACKLES: Jamie was one of my favorite Dean Girls. Melinda was so good and so fun.

From the instant the episode began, fans knew they were in for something special as the old black-and-white WB logo kicked off a very old-school credits sequence.

SINGER: Right from the opening of the Warner Brothers shield, you know where you’re going. It set the tone perfectly.

KRIPKE: That and “Changing Channels” are the only two episodes where I’ll sit down and just watch the credit sequence. The font, the way you list every crew member, and it just goes on forever. And [composer Christopher] Lennertz wrote real orchestral music for it. I just love the opening of that episode and the way we did that title sequence. But changing subjects, what that reminds me of is the singular genius of Ben Edlund to set this episode during Oktoberfest. Suddenly everyone looks like European villagers and everything becomes a real monster movie.

SINGER: And that location was a party site, but it worked perfect for us. 

PADALECKI: It was like an amusement park in the outskirts of Vancouver that we rented out. It ended up unfortunately getting torn down and turned into condos or something.

THE MIDDLE

With the setting and the cast locked, the brothers set out on their hunt, arriving at Oktoberfest to help solve a murder. And when the investigation made Dean late to his first date with Jamie, he found himself face-to-face with Dracula. So naturally, Dean punched the shapeshifter in the face. A fight ensued, one that ended with Dean holding an ear and Dracula ... riding a vespa?

ACKLES: I believe one of the many reasons this show lasted as long as it did is because it can be scary but then at the same time, you throw something like the scooter in and it layers in comedy with horror, with drama, with romance. It touches it all. Bob said it early on and it became a mantra of ours: “No joke is too cheap.” 

STASHWICK: That’s the infamous assault scene. I’m in full crazy mode and I’m supposed to clock Jensen in his beautiful face with my elbow, and for whatever reason in that moment — I perhaps leaned in, he perhaps leaned in — we closed that gap and I clocked him. So what you see on the DVD extras is me being all Dracula and then me being mortified that I just hit their billion dollar baby in the face.

ACKLES: He caught me with an elbow but he probably thought he hit me harder than he did. It was a mix between a good shot and a graze, but he immediately broke character. He was like, “Are you good?” And I was like, “Yeah, that one woke me up.” [Laughs]

Dean made it through that fight, but the shapeshifter had already planned its next move: While Sam checked out an eccentric local that they thought was the killer, Dean and Jamie shared a drink back at the bar where she worked. Her friend Lucy (Holly Elissa) then showed up just in time to spike their drinks. By the time Dean woke up, he was wearing Lederhosen while strapped to a table in a dungeon.

SINGER: Jensen was like, “Oh god do I have to wear this?” So to make him feel better, I put on the Lederhosen top. I didn’t go with the full shorts but I did direct that day in the Lederhosen top to take the edge off it a little bit for him.

ACKLES: I remember that! He directed in that shirt. [Laughs] Those were authentic leather Lederhosen from Bavaria. Only the best for Dean.

PADALECKI: When Jensen’s first getting strapped to the table, cause he’s a big guy, I remember them talking about how for the visual's sake, they wanted it to be like he’s a quote-unquote damsel in distress, so if they used a normal-sized platform, it would’ve looked comical, but not in a good way. So they had to make it a little bigger cause he’s kind of big.

Dean wasn’t in the dungeon long before Dracula left him to go answer the doorbell. It seemed the shapeshifter ordered a pizza … and he had a coupon.

KRIPKE: I just love how there’s the monster lab in the basement but then you go upstairs and it’s this mid-century ranch house. That’s almost a direct ripoff of the Steve Martin movie The Man with Two Brains.

SINGER: [Set designer] Jerry [Wanek] did a great job in building the dungeon set, and then when the doorbell rings, you realize it’s in the bottom of a suburban house with a pizza guy showing up at the door. 

KRIPKE: When Ben wrote the script, we talked about that scene more than any other scene in the episode. We were so specific about how we wanted the Dracula shapeshifter to react to the pizza guy and the way he’s scared when he says, “Is there garlic on the pizza?” And then the way the pizza guy’s so bored and over it: “Did you order garlic?” And then he says, “No!” It’s the way that he’s so bored of this Dracula at the door.

PADALECKI: I think Jensen and I must’ve watched this episode together in 2008 because I remember us looking at each other and going like, ”Oh my god, [the pizza guy] is way better than he needs to be!”

ACKLES: That line, because of the way that Todd delivered it, we used that line on set many, many times. Whenever somebody asked a question that had an obvious “no” to it, it’d be like, “Hey, did you want the big light on in the distance?” And Bob would be like, “Is there garlic on it?” So that became a little ism on set.

STASHWICK: I’m a Second City guy, so “yes, and” is drilled into my head and yet the two memes I’m most known for, I’m saying the word “no,” and that is Supernatural and Star Trek. I have the no's that are heard around the world. 

In the end, the brothers came out victorious and another monster was dead, but not before this one made you feel a little something (and gave one heck of a final monologue quoting King Kong). 

KRIPKE: Ben gets all the credit, and rightfully so, for writing the crazy episodes, but where I don’t think he gets enough credit is what a disciplined screenwriter he is in terms of character consistency and rule consistency and just the emotion and pathos he brings to every single story he does. No matter how crazy, he always has such a talent for capturing humanity. I wasn’t counting on the shapeshifter to have pathos but when he gives that speech at the end, it’s so sad. I give him all the credit in the world for that.

SINGER: Eric used to say, “Every villain is a hero of his own story,” so we always tried, as best we could, to give the villains something to do and learn more about them and give them full characters. So even with all this fun, we managed to give him something a little more to do. 

PADALECKI: He becomes an almost sympathetic character — I stress almost because he did kill a couple people — but what a great character arc all inside of one episode.

STASHWICK: Because this character wasn’t just a cartoon Dracula and he had that human moment, I think it made him stick in people’s minds more. This monster just really loved the movies. He was the ultimate cosplayer. It might be the thing I’m most known for outside of Star Trek, that one episode of TV.

THE END...?

Although Dracula didn’t make it out alive, the episode seemed to breathe new life into the series, marking perhaps its biggest risk yet, though not the biggest risk the show would ever take. 

SINGER: It kind of laid a template for other big swings that we took that were out of the ordinary, whether it was “Changing Channels” or “The French Mistake.” This was the first of our big swings of being totally different than what the show was generally week to week.

KRIPKE: I remember it getting a positive reception. I think people appreciated the swings we were starting to take. I just love that this small little supernatural show that’s arguably a Buffy ripoff on The CW got so experimental. I am really proud that we were doing legit avant-garde stuff, really experimental filmmaking, of which this was one, and then we just kept pushing it. 

PADALECKI: It’s such a great episode of television and I think we have a few in our 15 years that could stand alone as something fun to watch and out of the box, and it's certainly easy to argue "Monster Movie" is at the top.

ACKLES: This was really when we were hitting our stride. We were in the pocket with these characters, with the storytelling, with the writing. The first year was really finding our feet, the second was like, "Okay we somehow survived a network merge, let’s not mess this up." And then third season we started playing a little bit. So by the fourth season, we’re like, "Now we know where we need to be." This was the perfect time to do one of these outside-the-box episodes. This is definitely one of my top 10.

SINGER: I directed 48 episodes and if somebody asked me which is my favorite, I would probably say this one. I just had the best time doing it. 

Entertainment Weekly

[lewmagoo]

do u have any rhett or bobby fics/writers you recommend? love your writing! I'm deep in the lew brain rot rn 😵‍💫

sure do!

check out @delopsia for all your rhett and bobby needs! no one does it like del, i'm telling you. their writing satisfies this craving i have deep within my soul. you can find their masterlists here

and while you're at it, hit up @peachystenbrough too. i love her interpretation of the sad cowboy. she also has some really great bob x rhett x reader fics if you're into that. masterlist

then there's my sweet @sebsxphia who is soooo good at tapping into the more rough and gritty side of rhett, but also giving him soft humanity. and they nail the portrayal of bobby boy as well! masterlist

honorable mentions:

want the best of both worlds? read do you wanna make somethin' of it by @theharddeck

want a poetic and emotionally fulfilling character study of rhett? read horsemanship by @bradshawsbitch

there are many more i could list, but i'll just keep it short <3

[strxytwig]

Gojo Got Drunk

Gojo Satoru x gn!reader

Summary: You went out for your annual holiday drinks with some coworkers. This year, Gojo drank something other than soda. You weren't ready for the antics.

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: Gojo being drunk, slight angst

A/N: Doing a small character study with this blue eyed princess. I also haven't written in months and I'm extremely rusty af

+

You found Gojo’s bobbing figure amusing, like watching one of those bendy inflatables. He sluggishly clung to whoever was nearest, face colored red from drinking and his head lolled side to side between conversation. The first victim of the night, Nanami, could only handle his drunk antics for so long before he slid out of the booth and left the white-haired sorcerer moping and making grabby hands to anyone whose name he could drunkenly sound out.

Normally, Gojo composed himself when out for drinks. He stuck to soda or a mocktail while acting the biggest fool among other drunks. How he let himself go tonight made no sense to the rest of you, nor were you that concerned. He acted no different to any other day, albeit a little clingier. Gojo was always loud.

"He's an idiot," Shoko said when you stared too long at his bobbing head. You turned your attention to her as she filled your glasses for the third round. "I doubt he even had two drinks."

"Yeah." You laughed to yourself, shifting in your booth seat. "It's kind of funny." You looked back at him when he toyed with the tiny umbrella in his drink. His mouth dropped in a pout with the overhead light reflecting off of his shades. "I don't think I've ever seen him drunk."

"Enjoy it while it lasts. He's not going to drink again after this."

You hummed. "Guess he really is a lightweight."

"Nice bracelet," Shoko said. You looked down to where she pointed at the shiny bangle on your wrist. "Where'd you get it?"

"I got it as a present from my mom." You twisted your wrist a little to show it off. "Between this or the fuzzy socks I got from her and the fountain pen from my dad, this one seemed appropriate for tonight."

"Would have loved to see you in your fuzzy socks." Shoko rested her chin in her hand.

"Yeah, I guess." You set your wrist down and shrugged. "I don't know. It feels like we're not close anymore."

"Are you going home for New Year's?"

You shook your head. "No point in trying."

She narrowed her eyes. "I get it." She sighed and took a drink from her glass. "It's a tough job with tough hours."

"Sometimes, I wonder if I should have taken my cousin's advice and worked an office job." You pouted. "Then again, that's a whole different hell."

"No rest for the wicked."

"No." You sighed and sank deeper into your chair.

An arm quickly slung around your shoulder. At the same moment, they tugged, dragging you down into someone's chest. You floundered and stabilized yourself before you could fall out of the booth. Your hands gripped the table for purchase. Your heart raced from the jolt

"Why the long face?" Gojo chastised you,bending his knees. "It's Christmas Eve. You should be happy!"

You frowned at him. "Gojo!"

"Satoru!" He cheered with a big grin.

"Why aren't you at your booth?" You attempted to look over his shoulder at the long-abandoned booth, but Gojo pulled you closer.

"I got lonely. Nobody would sit with me." He leaned closer to look at both you and Shoko. "But that's fine because I got you two lovelies."

"Count me out." Shoko slipped out of her side of the boot and grabbed her drink. "I don't need a headache this early in the night."

You watched her helplessly. "Shoko."

"Take care." She half-heartedly waved before weaving around the bar to a different group.

You tried to follow her with your eyes, hoping she'd feel the heat of your stare, but Gojo wedged himself into the seat beside you clumsily with his arm still around your shoulders. He laughed boisterously and set his drink with the tiny umbrella on the table beside yours. Every move he made only jostled you.

"What's up!"

You frowned and tried to pull away from him, but he wouldn't let you. "Gojo..."

"Have I ever told you how pretty your eyes are?" He tilted his head down, correcting it when it started to roll.

"Yes." You looked away flustered. "Many times."

"It's cute when you play hard-to-get."

The alcohol burned your cheeks. "We're dating."

"You don't act like it." He absentmindedly blew air into your face.

"That's-" You were at a loss.

He wasn't wrong. The two of you started dating four months prior, after his constant and incessant flirting. Contrary to popular belief, you were the one to ask him out. It took small deliberation on his part before he agreed to be your boyfriend, only after you swore it didn't have to be serious. He didn't like serious. You accepted that.

So, the sudden personality flip this past month embarrassed you to no end. He was touchy and affectionate like no tomorrow. You struggled to keep up with this change. It happened out of nowhere. From casual dates and hookups to him being everything he agreed not to be. You worried you'd find a heart box of chocolates on your counter tomorrow morning for Christmas.

"What, you don't like me?" He pouted and leaned closer.

"I like you," you assured, placing your hand on his chest to keep him from falling onto you. "I'm just- you're drunk and you won't remember this tomorrow. So, I don't see why we should discuss it now."

"I'll remember." He pulled away to pout more. "I'm not going to forget what you said."

"Gojo." You sighed and started over. "Satoru-"

He hummed in content and fell into you, burying his face in your neck. "Yeah?"

"Why are you so...different?"

He slumped against your shoulder. "What do you mean?"

"You weren't like this a month ago." You tried to pull away to look at him, but he wrapped his arm around your side, keeping you locked in place. "You're really touchy."

"I'm your boyfriend," he answered breezily, if a little slurred. "I want to be a good boyfriend."

Your stomach twisted into a knot. "Satoru-"

"I love you," he muttered. He buried himself into your neck more. "Is that what you want to hear?"

Your heart dropped into your stomach. You lost your breath, trying to decide if what you heard was real. It was a mistake. He mumbled and you misheard.

"What?"

He nuzzled your neck. "I love you," he said with more clarity.

"Satoru." You managed to nudge him away so you could look at him properly. You pushed his shades up to his hairline and saw his eyes for the first time that night. Red-rimmed and shiny with unshed tears. You inhaled softly. "Satoru, what's wrong?"

"Nothing. I love you." He turned you to him and held you by the shoulders. "That's enough, right?"

The look in his eyes told you he wasn't all there. As if he was looking right through you. You ignored the rest of the noise from the bar and focused on Satoru. Even if he weren't drunk, you would be worried. 

"Yes. Of course, that's enough." You nodded your head.

"You don't have to love me back," he said, pulling you into a hug as he buried his head in your shoulder. "It's okay. Don't leave."

"I won't." You returned the hug. Was this moving too fast? Were you ready for the next step in your relationship? Would he feel the same way in the morning? Would you? It didn’t matter."And I love you too."

He laughed breathlessly into your shirt. "Can I kiss you?"

"You don't have to ask."

He pulled away slightly to bring his mouth to yours. It was slow and hesitant, the way he hovered. In the long second he hesitated, you wondered what would come of this. He stared into your eyes for a long moment before he closed his eyes and relinquished himself to the kiss. You reciprocated with ease, relaxing your body and melting into him.

When he broke the kiss, he buried his face in your shoulder again. "I love you, Suguru."

Your heart stopped beating.

Satoru nuzzled you closer. "Don't leave this time."

You swallowed dryly.

He slumped against you. "I love you."

+

[murpyperpy]

🩸Yandere Vampire x Reader 🩸

During your trip to the library you meet the only other person in your small town who seems to be interested in more than petty drama. The library hold extensive knowledge in its old other worldly books but you struggle to find a relevant story to capture your attention. That is why when you see the man across the room with him slender pale hands wrapped around a Jane Austen delicate nails taping against the spine, you rush over.

“How do you do Sir.” You sing excitedly starring up at him fully of glee at expectancy. You bob down with a short bow.

He brings his hand to his hat and gives it a slight lift. It falls on his dark wavy hair ( which you shamelessly find yourself staring at)

“Hello madam” He’s says politely, annunciating every syllable. He follows your eyes to the novel. You have captured his attention fully as he takes in your appearance rosy cheeks, long lashes, the white lace at the hem of you skirt. Most importantly to him some semblance of a character someone to converse with in this dreary town.

“How did you manage to get your hands on a book made in the last hundred years!” You exclaim only half joking.

Immediately he started thinking of ways to get you to stay with him. His mind rushes through this times customs. Dinner. He plans to invite you to dinner.

“From my personal collection naturally,” he jokes “I’m Amias, who may you be lovely?” He listens and you introduce yourself studying the amusement in your eyes. You have been so clearly starved of attention of civil conversation he promises himself he will assist you if not for him self but for your own good.

“You could always come see my private collection. All of the latest releases. And, at this late hour I could provided you with sustenance .” He offers nervously. He loosely defines sustenance as some kind of edible thing available at his manor.

Now those of you brave enough to comment must pick the choice of this adventure!!

A) Indulge his request and walk through the woods into his manor. (OoooOoOoO spooky~ 🫣)

B) Decline despite his possibly negative reaction (you just meet this guy! Do you even trust him??)

C) Creative wizz kid leaves a prompt! (YAYAY)

[tsurumiau]

GOLDEN KAMUY x MARIO KART 8 DELUXE

a silly little post about what racer they'd choose if they played mario kart 8 deluxe (+ some headcanons)

SUGIMOTO

he'd 100% choose baby luigi . he thinks luigi is MUCH cooler than mario and he chose him as a baby because he thinks he'll go faster if tiny. he also always chooses the jet bike as the vehicle (what can i say it just looks like it goes very fast)

SHIRAISHI

HE WOULD ABSOLUTELY CHOOSE ROY . i mean look at his sunglasses he's clearly the coolest. shiraishi always gets the WORST items and when he finally gets a mushroom he ends up crashing against a wall or falling off the map

ASIRPA

king boo . she LOVES choosing king boo and screaming BOOOOOO SUGIMOTO IM GONNA EAT YOU when she's behind him (she really does it with everyone but sugimoto is the one who gets scared the most because he genuinely thinks king boo can eat other racers). she just loves feeling like a menace and hitting other racers all the time

OGATA

WHAT CAN I SAY they have the same black void eyes and i think ogata relates to him in a very deep way. ogata SUCKS at drifting but he throws bananas, bombs and green shells like a pro (doesn't matter if the other racer is behind or ahead of him)

TANIGAKI

tanooki mario because inkarmat told him tanooki mario reminds her of him. he always ends up being the last one because he absolutely SUCKS at mario kart

INKARMAT

100000% CAT PEACH . she's matching with tanigaki. she always drives extremely well and therefore ends up being one of the last ones with tanigaki (but theyre in the bottom 3 together)

KOITO

BABY PEACH . he thinks peach is an absolute GIRLBOSS and like sugimoto he thinks she'll go faster as a baby. he can NEVER win against ogata because ogata somehow always has shells or bananas or bombs and throws most of them at koito no matter if he's behind or ahead of ogata

TSUKISHIMA

toad . he didn't really know who to choose but koito INSISTED toad reminded him of toad and he thought choosing toad would be better than choosing the random option. he does NOT know what he's doing and tries to avoid the item boxes because he thinks they're obstacles for some reason. he sometimes ends up going THE OPPOSITE way but still manages to be in 11th place (just because tanigaki is worse)

TSURUMI

this man has his own mii (i made a mii just for him btw) . hes the kinda guy that has studied every object in the game and know how they all work and how to use them to win ... not a menace because hes a violent racer but because he just knows how to play

USHIYAMA

HE'S DEFINITELY DAISY . my man ushiyama chooses the prettiest girl and THAT'S DAISY !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i think he's a pretty average mario kart player but sometimes he stops the vehicle because he accidentally pushes the backwards button (his fingers are too big, he thinks someone threw him a mysterious item that somehow stops the vehicle and he doesn't even notice he's the one doing it)

HIJIKATA

he thinks THE GAME gave him the character and he can't change it (he seriously believes he's stuck with mario but no one tells him because they all think he chose mario himself). despite that he's surprisingly good, not because he's a good racer but because he always gets triple red shells and annoys everyone with them

NIKAIDOU

his brother played wario (he will bite ANYONE who tries to pick wario) . he screams WAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH in every jump or gliding part. he goes feral when he gets a superstar and starts hitting all the people he can

KIRORANKE

YOSHI !!!!!!!!!!! ironically he SUCKS at throwing bombs and ends up hitting himself with them (he HATES when they're playing battle mode and it's Bob-omb Blast time). he's VERY bad at first but gets better after playing a few times if you ignore him hitting himself with his own items

WILK

DRY BONES . hes a silly guy and picks the silliest guy !!!! a pretty average player methinks ... definitely laughs at every single person that gets hit with a shell but gets mad when hes the one that gets hit

[raes-writing-space]

TWST Relationship Headcanons (Floyd, Ruggie, Kalim)

A/N: Suggestive Content Tread Lightly, not explicit, like it’s not full on smut, but it does have sexual themes. Reader isn’t said to be “Yuu” however, it may mention events in the story. Some of these are kind of written as a “funny haha” but it does have some seriousness behind it.

All characters are aged up to consenting age, or as the reader, imagine you are the same age as them (still of consenting age.)

Warnings: Cursing, Mentions of being touch-starved, violence, sexual themes, mentions of yandere vibes in Floyd’s. Possible spelling errors, tumblr won't save my changes no matter how many times I fix them.

Floyd:

I hope you didn’t want personal space. It’s the equivalent to that tiktok sound, “This is Bob, Bob loves his personal space. This is Larry, Larry also love’s Bob’s personal space.”

But honestly a lot of it is because he’s touch starved, and the physical contact he DOES usually have isn’t positive in any way, it’s violent, always fights.

The first time you give him a regular hug for the first time, doesn’t even have to be a full hug, it could be a side hug, he’s like “Wtf was that??? Wait, hold on, I want more of that.”

He always has to be touching you in some way, arm over the shoulder or around the waist, draping his whole body on you, holding hands, intertwining pinkies, hands in your pockets, SOMETHING.

While he does have mood swings, hardly ever do you really have to deal with it, because you always make his days better. Unless you did something to really set him off, he’s always in a good mood with you.

However, it can’t be said towards other people. So, while he might make YOU food that’s really good, he will make everyone else basically eat garbage. And while he might not snap at YOU, he might snap at someone else.

He finds you really interesting, even if you feel like your life is boring, he does not find it boring at all. He wants to figure you out, even if it’s doing “nothing” he still wants to understand why you choose to do said “nothing”, even if it’s something that would typically bore him.

He is BLUNT AF and LOUD AF, so if you good luck trying to keep him from spilling all your relationship info, he is so loud in his love for you, and he does not care if it makes other people uncomfortable to hear about how much he loves your body, mind, personality, etc. If you’re wearing his favorite pair of jeans he’s going to tell you how much he likes your ass in those jeans, and again, he does not care where he’s at or who’s around him.

Even if you’re the more modest or shy type, and try and tell him to “keep it down” he might, MIGHT, respect your wishes, however, don’t be surprised if he just suddenly grabs you and starts whispering in your ear all the shit he wants to say out loud. At least only you can hear it...

Floyd will use his strength and height to his advantage, even if you’re the same height as him or taller, he is really strong, doesn’t matter your weight baby, he will have no issues picking you up like a damn rag doll and throwing you over his shoulder.

He especially does this if he feels as if you’re not spending enough time with him. Floyd is a very needy eel, and he doesn’t like how much time you’re spending studying or hanging with friends, or a hobby, or ANYTHING, and not spending time with him :(( No, he does not care that you have a test coming up!! (Again with point one)

Floyd can get violent if it means protecting you in some way. if you get even so much as a dirty look from someone, he’s already giving the worst “warning sign” look to them EVER. Sevens forbid someone actually makes a threat towards you, because Floyd will make sure that they never so much as look at you, or in worst cases, make sure they never breathe the same air as you ever again.

Things might become sexual with him a bit fast, mostly because he’s touch starved and he’s just kind of overwhelmed with how much he feels for you, that he just sorta... needs to let it out in some way. And there’s nothing better than giving you all the pleasure you could ever want, and then some, be prepared to get overstimulated, it’s not even intentional sometimes, he just... won’t stop...

Floyd CAN make love to you, but even him making love to you can come off as a little rougher some times, he doesn’t mean too, he makes up for it in a lot of kisses, sweet touches, trying to make you laugh, and praise. He can also fuck the shit outta you though if that’s what you want.

On a more intimate note, if you kiss his scars, he’s not going to fully understand what it is you’re exactly doing at first, but once it does finally click that “Oh.” moment he might get overwhelmed and tear up a bit. He doesn’t understand why he’s tearing up, it shouldn’t matter to him that much, and yet, something within him is telling him that it does. Because despite his nature you treat him as if he’s gentle, and soft, and should be cared for and deserves to be cared for in a soft and gentle way.

Don’t take it the wrong way if he needs a minute to recover after that, because being vulnerable was never a thing he was taught to do, and it’s new to him... But he wants to be vulnerable with you, he really does, he just doesn’t know how to show it properly.

While he is a little unhinged, he is loyal, fiercely so, (almost borderline yandere, but it’s not intentional... it’s just how he is.) he has a lot of emotions, most that he can’t always control, but he does support you with everything, and loves you more than he can ever actually say it.

Ruggie:

Ruggie is the definition of “You fell first, he fell harder”, he’s got a charismatic charm to him that everyone to some extent falls for, however, he himself is rather guarded and doesn’t trust easily.

So with you? The fact that he allowed himself to feel comfortable around you and let his guard down? And trust you wholeheartedly? It took him a little while to figure out his feelings and again, allow himself to fall for you, that it was going to be okay, and once he did fall for you, he fell hard.

Of course, he’s still a mischievous little shithead, stealing shit from your pockets just to give it back to you in order to grab your attention and talk to him, or teases you relentlessly for anything you do, it’s just a love language of his. Take it in stride, he just wants to see you smile in some way, even if it’s a sarcastic one.

His biggest love languages are quality time and acts of service, he has a harder time finding the words to comfort or reassure you in the way that you need, he doesn’t have the money to give you gifts all the time (he does try though), and yes, while he does love physical affection too, it’s in the small things he does for you every day that shows his love for you.

Your laundry would be folded even if you didn’t ask, he’d have breakfast ready for you when you wake up, he’ll have a tissue at the ready when you sneeze, he’ll sit with you in complete silence doing different things in the same room, help you study, or distract you from studying, and be the perfect body double when you’re having a hard time doing tasks alone. He himself even understands and appreciates the times you do the same for him.

However, the saying “the way to his heart is through his stomach” runs true for him. Even if you don’t know how to cook, or aren’t very good at it, just the thought of putting in the effort of cooking something for him means more than you know. He’ll teach you along the way, if you’re willing to learn. Even if it’s just you finding a recipe you think he’ll like and would want to learn with him, he’ll appreciate.

There’s some things he will do that you might only understand if you also came from a low-income household. If he makes a pallet on the ground next to your bed for the first time he stays over, it’s out of instinct. Or some of the late night “ingredient dinners” he grabs for himself, it makes sense to him. A spoon full of peanut butter, or a bowl of canned corn and some cheese are typical things that are quick, cheap, and easy to obtain.

He might never get out of that mindset, even after you’ve given him some more security in his life, but don’t hold that against him, that’s just how he learned how to survive in his childhood, he got what he could, even if it meant stealing it, and he tries his best to hold out until whenever his next full meal was, whether that’s in an hour or two days from now.

Ruggie is incredibly hard working, he works various part time jobs, and he’s picked up a plethora of skills, he’s a little good at everything, if you need your makeup done, he’s your guy. Ripped shirt? He can sew it for you. You took up a niche hobby but you aren’t sure where to get started? Ruggie’s got you.

However, he can run himself completely ragged if you don’t tell him to take a break and just take care of him. Do some of his chores, cuddle him, let him take a nap with you, feed him, let him vent to you, anything. He’ll appreciate it all the same, and he’ll always make sure that you never want for anything in return.

Being in a relationship with Ruggie means being in a partnership, he’s devoted, and will put in 100% into the relationship, but you need to put in 100% on your end too, whatever that means to you. He’s in it for the long haul, but he needs to know that you’re going to be there for him when he has nothing, or when he has everything, and he needs to know that you’ll support him regardless, because he’ll support you in the same way.

Sex with Ruggie is always a mixed bag based on the mood, and what both of you need or want out of it. I believe he’s a switch, entirely, and if you want him to take initiative he will, and if you want to take initiative, he’ll follow. He can be serious, he can be goofy, he can make love to you and be incredibly intimate, or he can fuck you and treat you like a slut if that’s what you want.

You can make him beg even, just don’t forget to praise him. He lives for your praise regardless if he’s a sub or a dom, he just wants to make sure he’s doing enough for you, and if you need to switch things up again, tell him. He’s very understanding and adaptable.

Sudden leg cramp? Massages it out, gets you some water, and asks if you want to continue. You’re not quite close to orgasm because of XYZ? He’ll change it up for you so you can get there. You suddenly just want to stop? He would never make you feel guilty for it, if you want to stop, then you two will stop, that’s it.

He’s all for non-sexual acts of intimacy though, bathing is especially his favorite. He loves taking baths or showers with you, and after awhile he almost gets weird taking showers or baths without you, because it just doesn’t feel the same. He feels like he’s somehow also wasting precious water that could be easily saved if you just there with him.

His community means a lot to him, if he brings you back to his hometown, he doesn’t expect everyone to like you, but if you at least put in the effort to get to know them, learn, help, whatever it is that you need to do, he’ll love you even more for it. He’s seen as a big brother to a lot of the younger kids, and if they love you, then he knows he’s found the right person to settle down with.

While there are some people who are definitely your significant other but not exactly your best friend, Ruggie is 100% your best friend and your significant other. He see’s you in the same way. You should be able to laugh and feel comfortable with him, as much as he’ll laugh and feel comfortable with you.

Kalim:

Right off the bat I want to say that Kalim is not as naive as many people perceive him as. He’s emotionally intelligent, but he struggles with seeing the bad in people because that means that the world really is as scary, and awful as people say it is, and that’s not what he wants to see it as..!! He chooses to be naive as both a mix of him being actually a little naive, and as a coping and survival mechanism to some of the traumas in his life.

With that being said, while he is emotionally intelligent, it takes him a minute to differentiate his feelings for you, he wants to be sure that he legitimately is in love with you, and not just infatuated with the idea of you. Kalim romanticizes a lot of scenarios, so for him, of course it’s easy to fall in love with the idea of you, so he takes more time with you, gets to know you better, lets himself feel every emotion with you, and when he finally confesses his feelings for you, know that they’re genuine.

It’s very easy for Kalim to just want to spoil you rotten, if you’re not into it, you gotta tell him that. All he wants in the end is to make you happy, however he makes you happy isn’t really the necessary part to him as long as you’re happy. So, if you like being spoiled, as long as you’re happy, he’ll spoil you. If you feel weird taking his gifts, which are quite expensive, and you get awkward when he sings your praises and wants to throw a parade in your honor? Tell him, and he’ll better suit your needs.

He won’t stop gift giving if you aren’t the type that likes getting gifts, but if he sees a flower while walking, he’ll give it to you, and if you need a sweater because you’re cold, you can take his. If you don’t like crowds he’ll plan something that’s just the two of you.

Jamil will thank you if you end up being the guiding voice for him, in my opinion he reeks of ADHD, just like Floyd, but while Floyd grew to learn different life skills (due to his background), Kalim grew up in privilege and never needed to learn those skills, and was also encouraged not to learn, which didn’t do him any favors. However, Kalim can and does want to learn, if you’re wiling to teach him and be patient with him, he can be clumsy, he’ll have a deep respect for you.

Kalim is used to being coddled by his family, so if he slowly but surely start to make him see reality for what it is, a mix of good and bad, beautiful and ugly, he’ll start to open up himself in different ways even he didn’t realize he knew he had. Make sure to support him through it all, he might need to do some healing he didn’t realize he needed to do... (C’mon, poor boy really had to live with the fact that he can be casually poisoned at any moment, that kind of lifelong paranoia can’t be good for even the best optimist...)

He’s can learn to master any love language if he wanted to, even if he might need a little bit of guidance, he will always be first and foremost, a dedicated partner. Communicate with him, that’s the most important part, he won’t know unless you tell him, even if it you end up having to be a bit blunt, still tell him.

He didn’t realize how touch starved he was until he started dating you, he’s always been a physically affectionate person, but a lot of people push him away or are just uncomfortable with how affectionate he’s being. So the fact that he can be physically affectionate with you? Oh man, he comes off as really needy, he kind of is, but it’s always got rose colored glasses on, so he’s just a sweetheart who just really wants to please you.

However, he’s still new to romance, he’s always wanted to be romantic with someone, so while he’s physically affectionate, he gets nervous when he wants to kiss you. He starts off with kissing your knuckles, then the inner part of your wrist, then your cheeks, but he always makes himself too flustered to fully kiss you on the lips, at least, for the first time.

Once you initiate the first kiss with him, then it’s over for, then he’ll openly kiss you all the time, never really making out, but a lot of “pecks” on the lips, and god forbid he has to go do something important without you, because one “goodbye kiss” turns easily into a dozen goodbye kisses if you don’t stop him and tell him you’ll see him later.

You’ll have to guide him through his first make out session, he’s got a lot of pent up energy that he doesn’t really know what to do with, he gets a bit overwhelmed, and while he’s into it, his hands shake when he pulls you closer, or he grips onto your clothes a little too tight...

But once again, once the first is over, you’ll find him quickly wanting more of you, and finding himself getting a little greedy with wanting your love, it’s as if he’s been running at 100% battery his entire life with no real good way to release even a little bit of that energy, so when you give him that outlet, he wants to just give all of his energy to you.

Speaking of, the first time you have sex with him, it’ll be a little clumsy, but again, once he learns, like I’ve mentioned a few times, he just wants to please you. So much so, he might not actually realize he’s overstimulating you, he’s just taking your moans and reactions as a positive thing, and is just going to keep going, because obviously he’s doing something right, and you’re pleased, but doesn’t realize there is such a thing as too much.

He’s definitely a switch, of course, if he is dominant, he’s a service dom maybe even bordering pleasure dom sometimes. Also, Kalim is very loud, he moans, whines, groans, anything and everything, always praising you for something, even if it isn’t even related to sex, he’s just saying the first thing that’s coming to his mind, which, really isn’t much considering his brain turns to absolute mush when he’s fucking you, but it’s something.

Kalim loves laying on your stomach and just... staring at you... He considers himself so lucky to have someone like you loving him, and he hopes you feel the same way, he wants you to feel the same way.

If you meet his family, good luck with his siblings, they’ll have a thousand questions and he will want to answer all of them, even when he really shouldn’t. And, he also has lost count of how many siblings he has, so... it’s very easy for him to just... sort of forget who you’ve met and who you haven’t.

If his parents somehow don’t approve of you for some reason, Kalim will defend you! He will struggle to find the words at first, more confused and hurt by his parents choice, but in the end he’ll choose his love for you over any riches he could ever hold or own. To him, you are his greatest treasure. The most valuable thing in his life.

He finally understands what it means when people say things are “priceless” not in the way in which he originally believed, thinking they were under-valuing something or that it was free, but that it meant that no money in the world could ever make them consider parting with whatever it was, and for him, that’s you.

Kalim is a sunshine child, but he’s not so naive, if you’re willing to be patient with him, guide him, love him with everything, he’ll do the same for you in return. He’ll always know when you’re upset, even if it hasn’t fully hit you yet that you were upset, he wants to help you with anything, and he wants to grow with you.

[bradshawsbaby]

Would you write “finding small spaces of calm and comfort” for Calvin? I know he’s a newer character, so no pressure😊🫶🏼

Ohhh, this is my first time trying to write for Calvin! I hope I did him justice! 🫡

“Calvin?” you murmured, knocking gently on his closed study door. You waited a moment, but when there was no reply, you tried again, a little harder this time. “Dinner’s ready, love.”

You could hear a few things shifting behind the door, but still it didn’t open.

“Calvin!” you said more insistently, your knuckles rapping firmly on the door. “You haven’t eaten all day. It’s time for dinner.” Your voice brooked no argument and you rested your hands on your hips, tapping your foot expectantly.

It had been a bad day. Donatti had been breathing down Calvin’s neck about his research proposal more than usual as of late, and today they had gotten into a heated argument about funding that resulted in Calvin leaving the lab early and storming home. The fact that he’d received another letter from the woman claiming to be his mother had done nothing to improve his mood. He’d been holed up in his study all afternoon and evening, refusing to come out even when you tried to bring him lunch.

You tried not to take it personally. You knew he preferred to hide away when he got in a dark mood, not wanting you to see that side of him. You tried to tell him all the time that you loved him no matter what, but he still seemed to have a hard time believing that.

This time, however, you weren’t going to let him hide.

“Calvin!” you called again, twisting the doorknob.

The sound of his chair scraping against the floor reached your ears a second before the study door suddenly flung open.

“I’m not hungry,” he muttered, that deep line between his eyebrows that signaled he was either deep in thought or deeply aggravated visible as he tried to avoid your gaze.

“You have to eat, love,” you murmured softly, reaching up to tenderly touch his cheek. “You’re going to make yourself sick.”

Calvin seemed to relax when he felt your cool fingers brush against his face, the tension in his shoulders easing.

“I had a bad day,” he admitted quietly, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he looked at you. You knew it wasn’t easy for him to say so.

“I know,” you replied soothingly, taking his hand in yours and squeezing. “I want to help. Please let me.”

He gazed at you without speaking for a couple moments, his fingers lacing through yours. Then he nodded.

Calvin allowed you to pull him out of his study, walking him towards the living room, where you sat him down in his favorite chair and curled up on his lap. The two of you sat in silence for what felt like hours, just holding one another and breathing in the calm and comfort the other provided.

Dinner got cold, but you didn’t care. Letting Calvin know he was safe and loved meant so much more than dinner.

Winter Vibes for Lew Characters

[averagewriter-inthedark]

She’s Still Preoccupied With 1985 🎤 | Bob Floyd x Rockstar!reader Imagine

Takes place after the events of TGM

TGM Masterlist

Characters & Pairings: Lt. Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd x modern-day rockstar!reader (childhood best friends/romantic), dagger squad (platonic), Bob x female!oc (past romance), male!oc x reader (past romance), The 1985’s!BandOCs (platonic)

Content Warnings: major fluff, angst, profanity, canon divergence (Bob is born in 1985 in this, making him roughly 34 during TGM & 37 in the year 2022), pop culture references, second chance romance troupe, suggestive content and light smut + implied smut (MINORS DNI!!) inspired by the song ‘1985,’ by Bowling For Soup | Female!reader—afab!reader (she/her) | wc: 17.2k

Premise: Join Lt. Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd as he looks back on his fairytale love story with childhood best friend and real life rockstar, who’s set to perform one last time on the country’s most iconic stage, in her band’s final show of their farewell tour.

Note: so after I wrote ‘It’s A Long Way To The Top’ with Maverick x 80sRockstar!reader, I had inspiration for someone from the dagger squad x modern-day rockstar!reader. I was going back and forth between Rooster and Phoenix, but this anon suggested Bob with a rekindled childhood best friend and I thought that was the bullseye. Once again feel free to imagine your friends as your bandmates, I just gave names to make it easier to write. I do not own any of the song or pop culture references, this is for fictional purposes. Let me know what you think! - Bee 🐝

Songs that are real life songs, but are used as ‘your’ songs in this imagine: ‘1985’ by Bowling For Soup, ‘Iris’ by the Goo Goo Dolls, ‘Some Nights,’ by Fun, ‘Pompeii’ by Bastille, ‘Payphone,’ by Maroon 5, ‘Let’s Get Lost,’ by Bats for Lashes & Beck, ‘Where Do Broken Hearts Go’ & ‘Little Black Dress’ by One Direction.

——————————————————

Lt. Robert Floyd had seen a lot in his 37 years of life. Growing up on the plains of Montana, there wasn’t much for him until it came time to leave for college. There, life seemed to pass by quicker than the night sky. He’d experienced the hype of a Navy vs Army football game, getting wasted to the point he hated alcohol. Endless nights of studying that paid off when he received not only his diploma but also the rank of Ensign in the U.S. Navy. Then there was that time he nearly married his college sweetheart only to end things weeks before the wedding because he realized his heart belonged to someone else. In his career Bob pulled Gs with his pilot against the speed of sound in an F-18 and most recently, dogfighting SAMs out of enemy territory.

But no words could describe what Bob felt as he stood on the floor of Madison Square Garden with the people he called his best friends, waiting for the appearance of his one true love on stage.

The love that was once thought to be impossible, until fate was like, “These souls belong together. Once the time is right, I will work my magic.”

17 years prior in 2005, Bob was certain he’d never get the chance to tell Y/n L/n he had loved her since they were fifteen years old after hearing her voice on the radio.

“That was Kelly Clarkson’s ‘Since U Been Gone,’ part of her Grammy nominated album Breakaway released last summer. Clarkson is the favorite to win the award for ‘Album of the Year’ at next year’s Grammys. Up next is a new group recently signed to Capitol Records….here is ‘1985’ by, funny enough, The 1985s”

Something about the name of the group and title of the song had an odd feeling swirl through the then college student. Driving the car he was in was his roomate Derek and their buddy Adrian along with Derek’s girlfriend Willow.

Nothing could’ve prepared Bob for the voice coming through the speakers, the lyrics bringing back the memory of when she showed him the paper with them written down in her semi-sloppy handwriting.

“Debbie just hit the wall, she never had it all.”

“One Prozac a day, husband’s a CPA.”

“Bob, you okay?” Adrian tapped him on the shoulder, “You look a little pale.”

“Her dreams went out the door when she turned twenty-four.”

“Only been with one man, what happened to her plan?”

“This has a good beat,” Willow bopped her head.

“She was gonna be an actress, she was gonna be a star.”

“She was gonna shake her ass on the hood of Whitesnake’s car.”

“My mom could definitely relate to that,” Derek joked, stopping at a red light. He too was enjoying the song. It gave that classic rock feel that the 80s music his parents listened to had. Nowadays Hip-Hop and Pop are becoming the main genres of music on the radio.

“Her yellow SUV is now the enemy.”

“Looks at her average life and nothin’,” *guitar riff* “has been,” *guitar riff* “alright.”

Bob, who’s eyes were wide and heart racing, breathed in awe, “No way.”

“Since Bruce Springsteen, Madonna,”

“Way before Nirvana,”

“There was U2 and Blondie,”

“And music still on MTV.”

“Her two kids in high school,”

“They tell her that she’s uncool.”

“‘Cause she’s still preoccupied,”

Tears spring in Bob’s eyes, wiping them away before his friends could see when Y/n sang the final line of the chorus.

“With 19, 19…1985.”

That was how the future naval aviator discovered his childhood best friend had accomplished her dream. Breaking into the music industry. It’d been nearly four years since he’d seen Y/n, the two parting ways after her father took an accounting job in California, uprooting the teenager and her family from their home state of Montana.

They’d grown up on the same street, both their moms teaching at the elementary school. The two had pretty much gone through every grade together considering their school was small with few teachers. Every year they were in the same class, often sitting next to each other and spending time after school on the playground while their moms finished up for the day. Bob spent nearly every moment with Y/n as kids, becoming best friends when they were only five years old. But it wasn’t until the boy was twelve that he realized what a crush was….and boy did he have one on her.

Cherishing their friendship, poor Bob didn’t say anything about his surfacing feelings for his best friend. Even when the news of her moving was announced when they were 16, Bob remained quiet. It pained him to do so but he’d rather have her in his life than risk losing her if she didn’t feel the same.

In all the years Bob Floyd knew Y/n L/n, music was her life. It consumed her entire being with the young girl always humming a tune or singing along on the radio. When she was given a keyboard and guitar for Christmas, Y/n self-taught herself how to play until they could afford to put her in lessons. Then there were the notebooks.

At first it started as sticky notes with a verse or two, then it turned into loose pages of lyrics before finally the teenager wrote them all into notebooks. Anytime inspiration came to Y/n she was writing it down on whatever she could find. Napkins at a restaurant, receipts from her mother’s grocery run, hell even on her arm Y/n was writing lyrics so she wouldn’t forget. Sometimes she’d have the whole song complete before settling on a title, or a catchy title would come to mind but the lyrics would take time. Bob would always get annoyed when she’d steal his pen from out of his hand, but would let it go, understanding she had to write it down before she lost it.

At a football game he witnessed her unable to find a pen in time to write something on her arm before the lyric faded away. The teenager nearly sobbed right there in the middle of the stands, face in her hands as though to will herself to remember. “Are you okay,” Bob whispered, to which he received a sad groan.

“No….please don’t interrupt my thinking. I’m having a crisis, Robby.”

Y/n’s mom, who mentally still lived in the 80s, was the inspiration for her song ‘1985’, Y/n wrote at 15. Bob could still remember the day she raced up to their reserved lunch table, planting the paper in front of him, “Read this,” she was out of breath, but smiling nonetheless. Picking it up, Bob adjusted his glasses and let his eyes read over the words scribbled down that were separated into: intro, verse 1, chorus, verse 2, chorus, bridge, chorus, & outro.

“Wow,” he reads over the lyrics again, brows raised and feeling a connection to the song. It wasn’t hard to pick up on the fact it was likely titled ‘1985,’ which also happened to be the year they were born. “This is amazing, Y/n. Almost like….wait is this about your mom?” As her best friend growing up, Y/n’s mother was like a second mom to him….so Bob knew her obsession with the 80s and how she had plans to be an actress before she and her high school sweetheart, Y/n’s father, got married after college and had Y/n when they were 24. Then they had her siblings afterward and both changed their course of careers in order to raise them. The line that said ‘husband’s a CPA,’ is what really gave it away considering her father was an accountant. Debbie wasn’t her mother’s name, but even a rocket scientist could piece it together Debbie represented her.

Glancing up, he sees her guilty expression, offering a light shrug. “Is it that obvious?”

Bob never forgot that song. Even with all the ones Y/n showed him afterwards and when they lost touch two years after she moved, he never once forgot the song, ‘1985’.

It was a sad day when she told him the news. They were halfway through junior year, college applications around the corner and setting up for SATs/ACTs when she dropped the bomb, “My dad’s being transferred to California.”

The Coca-Cola he’d been drinking nearly went all over his steering wheel when he coughed, her words sending him into shock. “W-what-you’re moving?!”

“Next month,” she mumbled, head down to hide her face from his view. “My dad is there now looking at places for us. In the meantime Mom is dealing with the house while also applying to schools in the area my dad’s gonna be working.”

“Where?” Bob asks after a moment of silence, allowing him to fully process the news.

His best friend—who he was in love with—was leaving him.

Y/n sighed before replying with a sad chuckle, “Los Angeles. You know I would feel excited, seeing it was my plan to move to L.A after graduation, but I just can’t bring myself to.”

“Why?” Bob says softly with a frown, “This is your dream, Y/n. All you’ve wanted was to go there and audition for American Idol—or whatever that singing show is.” He was trying really hard to cheer her up, pushing down his heartbreak all the while. “This is your chance.”

“Yeah, but….” She glanced out the window, “what if it doesn’t work out? I don’t even know if I wanna go to college—which my mom still scolds me every time she gets the chance because she thinks I’m a fool to wanna pursue music. You know how it is,” Y/n gives Bob a knowing look, “she thinks of her life and wants me to go to school before selling my life away to a 9-5. I know she’s looking out for me, but God, let me make my own mistakes.” Her head leans on the window, “If it doesn't work out then that’s on me. But I’m not gonna give it up just because it seems out of reach. That’s what back up plans are for.”

Silence fills the car, the two letting their thoughts wonder. “Promise me something, Robby.”

“Anything,” he doesn’t hesitate.

“Promise me that even though I’m leaving, we’ll still be best friends. We’ll still write letters or talk on the phone…just don’t give up on me.”

Taking her hand in his, hoping she doesn’t feel the slight tremor as the words he so desperately wants to say are on the tip of his tongue, Bob gives her a look of love which she likely would believe is one of sincerity, “you’re my best friend, Y/n. I believe you will accomplish everything you set your mind to. When you make it big, I’ll be cheering you on every second and until then, we’ll talk every day if we have to,” he makes a face after thinking, “though maybe narrow it down to once a week so my mom doesn’t kill me for the phone bill.”

That makes Y/n laugh before reaching over the console to hug him. Arms go around his neck while his one arm awkwardly wraps around her side.

“I love you, Robby,” she tells him, sending his heart soaring. “You’re the only person I can count on in this whole damn world.”

“I love you too, Y/n.” ‘More than what you could possibly know.’ “I’ll always be here for you. Forever.”

He never thought he’d break that promise. But around the time of graduation things became so hectic in Bob’s life on top of the fact he was hurting. Hurting because he loved Y/n, and anytime they would talk on the phone or send letters he was reminded of the fact she was in California while he was stuck in Montana and they could never be together. Bob felt the only way he could save his heart and move on from that love was by cutting contact. It was his fault and he knew it when the letters eventually stopped coming and the phone stopped ringing every Friday. His mother could only relay an excuse to the girl so many times before Y/n eventually gave up. The last letter she sent him came two months after their last phone call, “So much for always being there, Robby. Have a good life, I hope it treats you well. -Y/n.”

He didn’t know what happened to her until two years later when ‘1985’ played for the first time on the radio for the whole world to hear. Tears lined his eyes, the man having to look out the window away from his friends. The flooding of emotion was overpowering, forming a sob in his throat.

She did it. She’s on the radio like she always dreamed.

“That was ‘1985’ the debut single of incoming rock band, The 1985s. Hits the nostalgia I gotta say—I feel we’re looking at some fresh new faces to the scene. Can’t wait to see what they have to offer in the future.”

The prediction of the radio host came true, when in 2006 the group released their debut album Established in 1985. Like their name, it referenced the year all members were born in which included frontwoman and occasional guitar player Y/n L/n, bassist Thomas Quinn, guitarist Farrah Cortez, drummer Xavier Hernandez, and keyboardist Pepper Renolds. All met at the University of California Los Angeles, and funny enough none were students in the music program. They were all in STEM/humanities with Y/n studying sociology with a minor in music, meeting the others when they formed a study group after they all had the same prerequisite classes their second semester.

It was at one of their meetups that Y/n couldn’t help but sing along to Journey’s ‘Faithfully’ and The Who’s ‘We Don’t Get Fooled Again,’ as they played on the little radio in the corner. “Damn Y/n,” Thomas looked amazed, “You got a voice, girl. How come you’re not studying music?”

“Same reason why you aren’t—don’t give me that look, Quinn, I saw that bass in your place when we were there last week.”

Next thing they knew Pepper mentioned she was a pianist who was progressing onto keyboard. Then Farrah said she played guitar and Xavier smirked, “all y’all need is a drummer and you can be a band….oh wait, have I ever told y’all I play drums?”

And thus, the 1985’s were born.

Months were dedicated to them building their sound and learning to be a band all while keeping up with their school work. Y/n was the brain behind all their songs, literally dropping the pile of notebooks onto the table one day saying, “I’ve got at least four albums worth of songs in these…maybe even more.” Working little by little they eventually got the tunes for several that they knew they’d want to release first if they managed to get discovered. MySpace was just starting out and Y/n took it upon herself to be bold, creating a profile for them. She listed her information since they didn’t have a band email set up. That would hopefully come in the future.

It was on MySpace that their lives changed forever.

Roughly after a year of working nonstop to create songs and develop their sound, the band uploaded a video onto the platform for ‘1985,’ in May of 2004. It almost looked like a music video, teaming up with students from the drama programs who were in need of doing their end of semester project. They had someone play Debbie, her husband, the two kids, and a group of extras. Even the yellow SUV Y/n’s mom drove was used as well as a poster of Duran Duran for the line in the second verse. The band would be in clips throughout the video, Y/n singing and playing the guitar. It took them the whole night spray painting a makeshift logo of ‘The 1985’s’ onto Xavier’s drum set.

When they first uploaded the video they were all like, “Even if no one sees it, this was still fun as hell to make.”

But little did they know it was going to be seen by many eyes…..including an executive of Capitol Records.

Y/n was just coming home from her shift at a local diner when she checked her email, dropping the water bottle in her hand and letting out an ear-piercing scream that woke her roommates.

“Y/n, my name is Martin Plaza and I’m a talent exec at Capitol Records. A member of my team came across your video on MySpace and we were impressed by your band and song, ‘1985’. We’d like to set up a meeting if you all are interested and please bring any demos you may have. Email me back as soon as possible or give me a call using the number listed below. Hope to hear from you soon. Regards, Martin Plaza.”

Y/n and the group could hardly contain their reaction at the meeting when Martin and a few members of Capitol Records were visibly pleased with what they were hearing. With so many songs they had recorded, they settled on bringing five, including ‘1985,’ and ‘Some Nights,’ which they were planning on uploading to MySpace next.

Martin and the team had excused themselves briefly before returning with the offer: a six year contract with Capitol Records releasing at least three albums during that period.

You can bet your ass they agreed. Signing their names before the sun could set on the horizon.

Champagne popped that night with Y/n crying against the receiver of her pink Motorola as she informed the news to her family. Her mother cried with her, her dad celebrating in the background while her siblings were like, “Don’t forget me when you become famous, sis.” What made her sad though after the call ended was when she went to dial Robby’s number, only to close the phone with a sigh. It’d been over a year since they last spoke, Y/n unsure where he even was or if he had a cell phone. The only number she knew was his home phone.

Curiosity and slight anger rising, Y/n dialed the number saved as his home landline, not surprised when his mother answered. “Y/n! Why hello, darling, I wasn’t expecting your call tonight.”

“Hi, Mrs. Floyd,” she sniffed, feeling tears prick in her eyes again. Y/n was not used to addressing the older woman by her last name. It felt awkward now to call her by her first. “I know he’s probably not going to come to the phone…but if Robby—Robert is there, could I…could I just speak with him please? It’s important.”

“Oh honey,” that was enough to indicate it wouldn’t happen. Y/n looked up to the sky, heart breaking in two at the fact her so called best friend, who she loved more than anything in the world, had completely discarded her. “Robert is uhh—he’s at the Naval Academy, sweetheart, I can give you his email or cell number—.”

“No-no-no,” Y/n interrupted, stunned by the news. “It’s fine. Uh, just never mind.”

“Honey—.”

“Sorry to bother you so late, Mrs. Floyd. Take care and thank you for your help.” Placing the phone in her pocket, Y/n allowed the tears to flow freely before moving back inside to where the party was. Only she could hardly enjoy it now. Instead she let her feet carry her over to the notebook placed on her backpack, removing a pen hastily from the pencil pouch and scribbling down the lyrics that were screaming in her head. The words that took over the paper went onto become their Grammy award winning singles, ‘Iris,’ and ‘Payphone.’ Iris became so popular it was used in several movies and tv shows after its release in 2006, earning the band the Grammy for ‘Record of the Year,’ to go along with their ‘Best Rock Performance by a Duo/Group’ and ‘Album of the Year’, three MTV moonmen including ‘Video of the Year’ and the American Music Award for ‘Song of the Year.’ Payphone was just as successful, topping the Billboard Hot 100 for 20 consecutive weeks and winning just as many awards as Iris.

Anytime the songs played on the radio or wherever he was, Bob had to change the station or frown until it ended. Deep down, he could feel they were about him—hurting him even more at the realization Payphone was basically saying how Y/n loved him and was trying to move on. Just in the way Y/n sang combined with the lyrics telling a story, it was obvious he had broken her heart. And they weren’t even together. They were just best friends…..who were too stupid enough to not admit their feelings for each other.

His senior year of college Y/n and the group were starting to become big, all the members taking a break from college in order to build their careers as musicians. Often Bob would check in to see how Y/n was, tuning into award shows to watch them perform. Pride and awe filled him watching her sing, living her dream just as he believed she would. He hated that he broke his word to her, and it seemed to affect Y/n whenever she performed Iris and Payphone, putting every ounce of emotion into each lyric.

At 21 Bob had finally entered a relationship with a nice girl from the Naval Academy. The possibility of him reuniting with Y/n was long out of the picture and his friends were getting on him to finally break out of his shell. They had no idea of his connection to the rockstar, but they could tell anytime they were on the radio Bob’s demeanor changed. Abby, a sweet pre-law student at the Naval Academy, was his first serious commitment, the two bonding over similar interests and plans for the future. Hope rose at what it could hold.

Until she and their friends decided they wanted to go see The 1985’s concert.

It was 2007, they’d just graduated and were commissioned to the rank of Ensign’s waiting to be shipped off to their respective duty stations. And Bob was engaged…..but he hadn’t really proposed in the traditional way. It was more of Abby pointing out if they wanted to get stationed together then it was best for them to get married and he just agreed. But a big part of him was hesitant to go through with it.

The news of Abby and their friends' desire to go to the concert made his stomach drop and head spin. Still in Maryland, they had gotten tickets to the show in New York at Madison Square Garden which was only a couple hours away. Abby had went ahead and got them as a surprise for Bob, not telling him until the day before the show.

“You guys go,” Bob initially said, praying she couldn’t pick up on the anxiety in his voice. “I—uh—I’ve got some things to get done—.”

“What things?” She scoffed, shaking her head as she laid out the outfit she planned to wear. “School is over, you aren’t planning to see your family until next week, and you don’t leave for flight school till the end of summer. What could you possibly do tomorrow night, Bobby?” He mentally cringed at the nickname, unconsciously thinking of how Y/n would call him Robby.

This wasn’t a good idea and he knew it. Already he was starting to think of her again. More and more by the second. Feelings were resurfacing, and Bob was fighting them hard. If he saw her on stage it was only going to confirm what he already knew.

That Y/n owned his heart. And no one else would have it. Not even Abby.

In the end, Bob found himself on the floor of Madison Square Garden of all places, wondering just how the hell their friends managed to get the area. The band was touring for their debut album, selling out within seconds and what made it more historic were they managed to get The Garden in their first ever tour. Usually groups/artists had years before they played at the Garden, settling for smaller venues in New York, but the 1985’s had become sensations.

The entire time they waited for the band Bob’s hands were shaking, the man unable to contain his tremor with each minute. Abby asked at one point, but brushed it off as him being excited when he didn’t give her an answer.

He was a little excited….but mostly fucking terrified.

Especially because they were very close to the stage. Like if one of the members happened to walk close to where they were standing they’d be spotted.

Bob should’ve fucking knocked on wood.

When the band came out Madison Square Garden erupted, Y/n belting out the lyrics to their opening number, looking like an actual dream. Her look was more of a modern take on rock n roll but still looked classic. Black leather adorned her body with cutouts to showcase some skin, arms covered in ink from the various tattoos and hips rolling to the beat of the drums causing the crowd to go crazy.

Y/n really knew how to work the stage and make it her bitch.

Bob was mesmerized. Utterly speechless as his eyes glued to the woman he once called his best friend. All he could do was stand there and stare, while willing his heart to calm down by how fast it was beating.

It was to be a two hour show at the least, and Bob didn’t know if he wanted to leave as quickly as he could or wishing the show would last forever. Seeing Y/n up close and performing before a crowd made him feel things he didn’t know were possible. Her dazzling smile, dancing across the stage and playing the guitar was everything he could’ve dreamed for her.

He loved her. Bottom line, Bob loved Y/n like no other.

When their eyes connected 30 minutes before the concert ended, causing Y/n to drop the microphone and throw her off for the remainder of the concert, Bob knew he couldn’t marry Abby.

He wasn’t sure if Y/n recognized him at first, but the rockstar had approached the side he was standing at to interact with the crowd when her gaze landed on his. Eyes widening, Y/n literally dropped the microphone causing the impact to echo through the speakers. Bob’s cheeks went bright red, unable to look away in their 2-second staring contest until Y/n blinked rapidly and cursed.

“Shit,” he saw her mouth as soon as the microphone hit the platform, bending down quickly to pick it up. “Sorry about that guys,” she nervously laughed, eyes glancing at Bob as though to make sure they weren’t deceiving her. A sharp intake of breath indicated she realized it wasn’t a trick. Walking backwards until she was back to the middle of the stage where the band was, Y/n’s tone became flustered, “U-uh, we only got a couple songs left in the show. We’re gonna take a quick five minute break so just hang tight.”

Bob could see the looks of concern from her friends/bandmates as she ran off stage, the group following behind. His heart dropped, rubbing a hand over his face to calm down the anxiety in his veins.

“What the hell was that about?” Derek laughed, “It was like she saw a ghost or something.” Everyone besides Bob agreed, none seeing the way Abby was staring at him with an unreadable expression.

When the band returned for the final act Y/n did her best to not look at the section Bob was in. Unlike everyone else in attendance, the Navy officer could pick up on the fact she was more tense than at the start of the show. Her voice shook lightly when delivering the lyrics to ‘Iris’, although it was as though she was putting more emotion than ever into the song, bringing tears to Bob’s eyes. Y/n also appeared to hold back tears, quickly transitioning the song to their next to avoid breaking down.

‘1985’ was the last in their set, everyone in MSG jumping up and down to the chorus and screaming the lyrics. Y/n smiled the entire time, finally letting a tear slip when the concert came to an end. To everyone it may have looked like the rockstar was overwhelmed with emotion at the fact she just played Madison Square Garden before a sold out crowd. But for Robert Floyd, he knew those tears were because of him.

Especially when they connected eyes again, Y/n’s lip quivering before turning away to hide her face. When she walked off with the band Bob felt his heart go with her.

“You’re hiding something,” Abby said with a soft tone when they arrived back home late that night. It was nearly 3 in the morning, the concert having ended at 11.

Bob tilted his head back, eyes closing to block off the rest of the world, “Please, let’s not do this.” He just wanted to go to bed and sleep the night away.

“You know, I always wondered why your knuckles would tighten around the steering wheel when their songs played on the radio, or why you look like you wanna cry anytime I sing ‘Iris’ at karaoke, why you can’t even look at me when I do,” she lists off, voice slightly rising. “Then there’s that box of letters you hide in the closet. And….and the photo album you won’t even let me look at. We’ve been together for a year, and you have not once told me you loved me.” By now Abby’s voice wavered, sniffing as she continued.

“I’ve been a fan of The 1985’s for close to a year now, but it wasn’t until tonight I actually read up on them. On Y/n…..” she saw how his body reacted, confirming her suspicion even more. “How she was living in L.A when they got discovered, but she grew up somewhere else…..She’s from Montana. The same town as you, Robert.”

“That’s just a coincidence—.”

“She went to the same high school as you!” Abby shouted, pushing off the wall she was leaning against. “You told me your town had less than four-thousand people—and only one high school. She would’ve gone there, Robert—in fact it said her mom was a teacher at the elementary school. The same one your mom taught at!”

By now Bob had enough, mouth tightening as he spoke calmly to his ‘fiancé’, “What do you want to know, Abby?”

“Who was she to you? Don’t fucking say shit like ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’—I saw her look at you,” tears pricked in her blue eyes. “How she looked like she’d been punched straight through the heart. She fucking dropped the microphone—and looked like she wanted to faint! Like you were a walking ghost. And you….you looked the same.” Pausing, she thought back to his face at the concert. There was no doubt Y/n and him had locked eyes, she heard him audibly react despite the noise.

“You looked like someone with deep regret. Someone who longed for a second chance. You looked like someone in love, Robert. Never have you looked at me that way.” Abby waited for him to respond, but Bob was unable to speak, expression unreadable causing her heart to break.

“Just please,” she breathed out, “tell me the truth, Bob. What was she to you?”

Silence filled the room, causing the tension to rise. It stayed that way until Bob finally sighed, face falling as he admitted what she already knew.

“She was everything. She is everything.”

When it came time to ship out two months later Bob was not the married man he expected to be. In all honesty, he was relieved. That night the argument had ended with Bob telling Abby he couldn’t marry her—he’d be hurting her even more if he followed through with it. Never could he love her the way he did Y/n and wouldn't put her through that. Going their separate ways was for the best. Even though he’d likely never be with Y/n, no one could compare to her.

Abby was angry as one could expect but part of her knew it was for the best. What good was it getting into a loveless marriage? She almost resented the rockstar, feeling like she could never enjoy the 1985’s anymore knowing the man she thought she spent the rest of her life with was hopelessly in love with his former best friend, who was the frontwoman of her favorite band. But then Abby took some time to think, and felt her heart break for Bob. She couldn’t imagine what it was like loving someone you couldn’t have.

Ending their engagement and agreeing to be friends, Bob told stories about growing up with Y/n—even bringing out the letters and photo album for her to see. It amazed the woman, flipping through the pages to see the singer when she was a child and teenager. It was almost funny to see how polar opposites the two best friends were, Y/n with her 80s band t-shirts and ripped jeans next to a Bob in his cowboy hat and flannels. As teenagers Y/n dabbled more in the grunge makeup. One photo made Abby laugh as it showed Bob with black eyeliner and glitter on his cheeks.

Coming across the end of the album was a half of a ‘Best Friends Forever’ necklace taped to the page. Abby frowned, “What happened between the two of you?”

This was a question he never thought he’d answer, thinking he’d go the rest of his life without anyone finding out his history with Y/n.

“After she moved we stayed in contact for about two years. We’d call every Friday—send letters from time to time ....” He paused, biting his lip as the frown took over. “But I stopped responding and answering.”

“Why?”

“It hurt too much,” he admitted, hating the way his heart clenched. “I never said anything because I didn’t want to lose what we had,” he looked to the ground, “but then it just became too overwhelming and I thought if we….if we drifted apart then I eventually could move on.”

Abby is silent, glancing at the picture of him and Y/n before looking back at the necklace, “Wanna hear something, Bob? Something you probably won’t believe, but I promise you it’s more likely than you think?” He looks up from the floor, brow raised slightly.

“What?”

“I think Y/n loves you.”

“Not in the way you think, Abby,” Bob deflects with a shake of the head. “And she definitely doesn’t anymore—she hates me no doubt.”

“No, listen to me,” she closes the album, setting it aside. “When did you two stop talking?”

“Around fall of 2003,” he tells her, look of regret in his visage, “in 2004 was the last time she phoned the house.”

Abby thinks back in her research of the band, shoulders dropping slightly, “That’s when they got signed to Capitol Records. ‘Payphone’ and ‘Iris’ came out last year, but Y/n said in an interview she wrote them the night they were signed—which had people confused because they’re sad songs that were written on a night that was supposed to be happy. Don’t you see?” She waves her hand at his now confused gaze, making her huff. “She probably had called your house hoping to tell you the news! Anyone who hears those songs knows it’s about heartbreak. And not the type of heartbreak you get by a friendship disintegrating, Bob. That’s the heartbreak when someone you love with your entire soul hurts you.”

“Abby please,” Bob pleads with her, water lining his eyes. Falling silent the woman leans away, solemn in her expression.

“All I’m saying is she loved you more than you think. And judging by her reaction to you tonight, I think I’m right when I say Y/n would give anything for you to talk to her again…..”

For years Bob thought about what Abby had told him that night they broke up. It kept him up at night especially when The 1985’s came up that day either in conversation or on the radio. There were times he was tempted to write a letter, but life would get crazy with the Navy and then in 2011 he was invited to Top Gun.

Devastated couldn’t even be the right word to describe how Bob felt when it was revealed Y/n had eloped with a Hollywood heartthrob. Not a fan of social media, Bob had just returned back to his squadron after graduating from Top Gun to turn on E! News where they were covering the story.

“Wedding bells are in store for rockstar Y/n L/n of The 1985s and actor Enrique Lorenzo from The Walking Dead. The two have been spotted throughout the year looking cozy at award shows and Lorenzo attending The 1985’s concerts in L.A and Atlanta. An inside source has gotten word the two applied for a marriage license two days ago and earlier this morning had a private ceremony with close friends and family in West Hollywood. Neither has confirmed if they have in fact tied the knot, but I would keep your eyes out. In the meantime, congratulations to the happy couple and we’re looking forward to seeing Y/n’s ring.”

It seemed like all the air had left Bob, turning off the tv in a flash but still pointing the remote as he stood stunned. Then his phone buzzed with messages.

“Honey, just checking in. Call me when you get home,” was from his mom, trying to avoid the obvious elephant and would rather discuss it over the phone.

“Have you heard the news?” Abby wrote. “I’m so sorry, Bob.” He actually appreciated that she wasn’t walking on eggshells. That she was upfront with him. Though it’d been over four years since their breakup, and Abby was now married with children, the two remained friends and often checked in with each other occasionally.

“It was bound to happen some time,” he replied before turning off his phone so he couldn’t receive any more messages.

The rest of the night he was pretty much a walking shell, then as the years went on Bob closed himself off. Hardly did he date, and when he did they only lasted a few months before the girls realized he was not ready for the commitment they were wanting. Some understood, others were more aggressive when spitting out their feelings. Never did he admit why he couldn’t love them the way they wanted. The only people who knew who his heart belonged to were Abby and his family.

2015 Bob was transferred to Lemoore when the news broke that Y/n and Enrique had divorced after nearly four years of marriage, however, they had been secretly separated for almost a year before it was finalized. Cursing mentally, Bob couldn’t help but feel a slight relief—which was completely fucked up knowing Y/n was going through a difficult time and here he was silently celebrating, as though he really had a chance now to make things right.

That should’ve been his sign to call her mother and ask for Y/n’s number, with the hope she’d give it to him. But then Bob felt it was too soon. Her divorce had just been finalized, he didn’t know the exact reason despite the former couple citing irreconcilable differences. Whatever it was, Bob wasn’t sure he wanted to know but at the same time couldn’t help but be curious.

He’d get his answer almost two years later in January of 2017 when he flew home to Montana to celebrate his birthday. It was his 32nd and his mother literally begged him to come home so they could all be together now that Bob’s sister had recently had twins and were there to visit. Wanting to meet his nieces, the WSO relented and booked a flight for the weekend after confirming his leave.

Suspicion filled him with the way his family was acting when he arrived. Almost like they were excited but nervous, which only confused the officer. He was in his service khakis, pulling his cap off when they got inside and removing his windbreaker before setting it on the coat rack.

That’s when he saw the black suitcase in the corner.

“Who’s is that?” He asked with a raised brow, noticing his mother slightly tense. It wasn’t a luggage he recognized as one of theirs, and it was as though it had just been placed there.

And his sister had already unpacked in her old room. So it wasn’t hers.

Blushing, his mother tried to find the right words, “Oh-um, It’s—.”

“It’s mine.”

32 years had gone by in Bob’s life and never did he think he’d experience anything close to cardiac arrest. But hearing Y/n’s voice, so close as though she was behind him, made him think he was about to die right then and there.

Then he turned around, slowly, heart beating so fast it was about to explode from his chest, and she was there. Standing at the end of the staircase in a beautiful black leather dress with matching knee high boots, her hair slicked back into a bun and minimal makeup showcasing her gorgeous face.

She was ethereal. Absolutely breathtaking.

The last time he saw her in person was when they were 22, before that was 16. Here she was a grown woman who’d been through a hell of a life. She looked beyond gorgeous, and Bob felt the heat rise to his cheeks.

Only her gaze was not as warm as the emotions Bob was feeling. Honestly he felt like he could be six feet in the ground with how she was looking at him. Betrayal, heartbreak, anger, but underneath it there was love and hope.

“Hello, Robert.”

He didn’t even know how to react. All he could do was stand there, speechless with his mouth slightly agape. Eventually he just breathed out, “Y/n.”

Stoic, Y/n glanced at his mother, “Mrs. Floyd, could you please give us a moment.”

“Of course,” the older woman nodded, bidding her son a glance, “We’ll all be out on the porch.”

Nodding in thanks, Y/n waited until she and everyone in the house had moved outside before facing Bob again. Chills ran up his arms when she let her eyes trail over his figure, remaining emotionless.

An awkward silence passed, neither really knowing what to say. Bob was hesitant to break it, hoping she would but Y/n just continued to stare at him. Both unable to form the words.

Finally he tried to say, “y-you uhh, wow.” He swore he heard her scoff under her breath.

“Yeah, wow,” her tone broke his heart, but then again Bob couldn’t blame her. After all, he’s the reason they drifted apart. When he didn’t reply, instead glancing to the ground, she scoffed louder, “That’s all you can really say? ‘Wow’? After thirteen years, Robert, all you have to fucking say to me is ‘wow’? No, ‘I’m sorry,’ no ‘I can explain everything.’”

Anxiety rising, Bob sighed which only made her angrier. “Y/n, I-I—.”

She couldn’t stop herself, “Why?” The question haunted her for over a decade. “Why did you just throw me away like trash—a-after everything we’d been through? You owe me the reason why you broke your word to me and made me feel like shit. I have waited and waited for years, Robert, hoping you would call or send a letter but now I’ve had enough so you can’t run away from me now. So start talking.”

“Y/n, I didn’t mean for y-you to feel like that,” he tried to explain, but the words were not the best, causing her to explode.

“How else was it supposed to make me feel!?” She threw her hands out. “That’s how it came off as to me! ‘All always be here for you,’ my ass, Robert. You remember telling me that? It was only two years—two years of us doing so well with the distance—I was even planning on surprising you for fucking Christmas and then it was just gone in the blink of an eye,” snapping her fingers, Y/n emphasized her point. “No explanation, no warning. Nothing to tell me you didn’t want to be friends anymore, having your mom give me excuse after excuse why you wouldn't come to the phone.” She pauses to calm herself, her tone kept rising with each word.

Bob takes the moment to speak, “It’s…Y/n, you have to understand it was never my intention to hurt you,” when she made a sound of, ‘yeah right,’ he rushed out, “Please! I fucked up, I know I did and I’ve regretted every second of it since then—and as much as I wanted to reach out and apologize, explain to why it happened…I just felt so ashamed and then I heard you on the radio,” a sad smile comes to his lips, seeing her stiffen at the mention of her debut. “And when I heard your voice, I just thought that was it. You didn’t need me anymore and believed you would forget about me eventually.”

“Forget about you?” Her tone went soft, eyes glistening. “You were my best friend—since we were fucking five, Robert!” He flinched, shame filling his veins. “We did everything together, I shared everything with you. My music—some of which were inspired by the fucking things we did,” the confession had his eyes widened a bit, “You think I would just forget all of that? Thirteen years worth of friendship down the drain? Sorry, but I’m not like you—I wouldn’t just ditch the only person I trusted most in this world because I was starting to become something. Did your mom tell you I called?” She suddenly asked, not letting him answer before she was ranting again, “It was almost a year after you threw me to the winds. The night I fucking met with Capitol Records and got offered the opportunity of a lifetime….I wanted to share that with you. Despite the fact we hadn’t talked for almost a goddamn year, I desperately wanted to hear your voice and tell you I did it,” her voice cracked at the end, causing tears to prick in Bob’s eyes at the sight she was fighting back her own.

“That I did it,” Y/n held back the sob threatening to escape. “You were the only one who believed in me, and I couldn’t even share that with you. Because you didn’t want me in your life anymore—and you know what that’s okay. Friendships come and go, but you couldn’t even give me the fucking respect to tell me. And then you come to my show!” Now she was shouting, “Yeah I know that was you, don’t even try to deny it. It may have been four years at that time but I know damn well that was you in New York. I cannot fucking believe you would come to my show and not even tell me! And then to not reach out after was a fucking slap to my face.” Her breathing was starting to get heavy, the woman pressing her fingers to the bridge of her nose.

“I don’t even recognize you honestly. The Robert I knew would’ve never hurt me like you did. He would’ve at least shown me some respect. He wouldn't leave me to wonder what I did wrong.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he said sternly.

“Well it doesn’t feel that way now does it?” She said just as harsh, “Why?”

“Y/n, it’s complicated,” he put his hands to his neck, looking at the ceiling as he started to lose composure.

“Then tell me why!”

“Because I fucking love you that’s why!”

The words had left Bob’s mouth before he could stop himself. Silence ignited, the WSO covering his mouth with a hand as he went pale, staring at Y/n whose own mouth was parted. The confession had hit her full blast, causing her to stumble back as though she physically felt them possess her. A shaky hand came to her own mouth, looking away from the man when her eyes closed allowing the tears to spill on her cheeks.

“I love you,” Bob whispered, mirroring her expression. “I’ve loved you since we were fifteen, Y/n. I knew I felt something when we were twelve, but I just brushed it off thinking I was confused. But then I couldn’t stop thinking about you—and what we could have. But I didn’t want to lose you if you didn’t feel the same.” Opening his eyes, they locked on hers. God even when she cried she looked beautiful. “When you left…I thought it would be easier to move on. But then we talked every week and the feelings wouldn’t go away. No matter how much I tried. You took my heart with you to L.A. and you’ve had it ever since.”

He waited for her to respond, chest on fire with how bad his heart was racing. Fingertips were going numb as Bob stared at her with pleading eyes. “I’m sorry. I can’t go back in time and change it as much as I wish I could. Please know, Y/n, I’m so fucking sorry. I’m so fucking sorry for hurting you. I won’t ask for your forgiveness because I don’t deserve it. I won’t blame you if you walk out that door and we never see each other again. But just when you do, know that I’m truly, deeply, sorry.”

Time seemed to slow now with the two adults staring at each other. Now that it was all out in the open, Y/n seemed to be processing the whole thing. Bob couldn’t tell what she was thinking. Unbeknownst to him, Y/n’s brain was screaming, as was her heart. Lips quivering, the woman sniffed.

“You love me?”

“I do,” Bob signed after a moment. He no longer could keep it in, feeling the immense relief at being able to finally say it aloud.

“For years?”

“Almost seventeen.”

“Seventeen,” she repeated with an unreadable tone. “Y-you, I thought—your mom told me you were engaged.”

“That was in college,” he explained softly. “She was at the show with me that night. Saw how we reacted to each other and realized things I tried to hide. I ended things with her—I couldn’t trap her in a marriage that would make her unhappy—make me unhappy. She understood after a while and we stayed friends.” Bob rubbed his jaw, adding, “everyone else that came along was the same. I couldn’t love them the way they wanted me to. My heart wouldn’t allow it.”

Y/n leaned her head against the wall behind her, gazing at the ceiling, “A-and you were just going to go through life alone? Never planning to settle or be happy?”

“What good would it be hurting someone by committing to them when I couldn’t offer everything they would give me in return. They could love me, but I couldn’t love them, Y/n, and that’s unfair.” He wiped away a tear that slipped from his eye, no doubt his irises were red, “I’d rather be alone than do that to someone.”

She took a sharp inhale at that, more tears falling. “You should’ve told me,” her voice cracked, making him look away. Only to freeze when she said in almost a whisper, “Because we could’ve had all this time.”

“Wh-what?” Was his mind playing tricks on him? Or did she really just say what he thought she did?

Y/n chuckled, but it was more of laughing at how sad the situation was. Shaking her head, her eyes stayed on her boots as she said, “Did you ever wonder why I rejected Tyler Davies when he asked me to homecoming junior year, insisting I wanted to go with you instead?” Tyler was the quarterback of their high school football team. A senior, who asked Y/n to the dance and became the talk of the school when she said no. Many were jealous she even got his attention, riddled with shock she would reject the star player.

“Because you felt sorry for me I didn’t ask anyone?” He asked like it was obvious, causing her to huff.

“Because I wanted you to ask me,” his heart skipped again, “And whenever Melinda Perry would flirt with you in government I would literally send her daggers because of how jealous I was. Why do you think I warned you not to go out with her when you asked for my advice? Yeah I knew she was a snake to most of her boyfriends, but I was also selfish because I didn’t want you dating someone else. God, Robby, you were so blind. Even with your glasses you still couldn’t see that I loved you.” It was though he was on cloud 9, disbelief at what he was hearing.

Y/n loved him. At least she did when they were teenagers.

The next question couldn’t even form in his mind before she was lifting her head back up, shrugging when allowing the confession to fall from her lips. “And as much as I want to hate you right, I can’t bring myself to. Because I’m still hopelessly in love with you, Robby.”

Now he was the one stumbling back. “Y-you do?”

“I do. I’ve loved you since I was sixteen.”

He didn’t recall much that happened after that. Just that his feet were carrying him over to her, cupping her face in his hands and moving their faces close together. Lips just barely brushing over, he waited for her to make the next move. Y/n wasted no time, pressing her mouth to his and the two felt the eruption of warmth and love consume their bodies. Her arms around his neck, her fingers ran through his blonde hair causing Bob to groan. The sound made her gasp, allowing Bob to slip his tongue past her lips and heat up the kiss.

“I love you,” he whispered against her lips, bringing them back together.

“I love you too.”

“I’m sorry, Y/n.” His arms went to cradle her, pressing her against the wall. She simply nodded before kissing him back, “I forgive you, Robby.” God he missed that name. Only she could make him feel some type of way when she said it. He chuckled when she added, “Even though I should slap the fuck out of you.”

It was a miracle they made it up the stairs and into his childhood bedroom which was now a guest room. He had to remember to lock the door after setting her on the bed, praying to God his family would stay outside. There was music playing from what he could hear through the window so it made things easier when the two got lost in each other.

Clothes scattered the floor, kisses and hushed whispers shared between the two. Bob worshiped Y/n, letting his mouth kiss along every inch of her, trailing down any tattoos that coated her skin and paying extra attention in the places that brought her the most pleasure.

When he entered her they both sighed in bliss, moving as one until they reached a climax that brought them both to tears. All the time Bob whispered how much he loved her, Y/n repeating it each time. She moaned with each thrust and whenever she pleaded with him to do something Bob delivered it without hesitation. With her leg over his shoulder, chests pressed and mouths attached together the officer believed if he died right there it would be with a smile on his face. They came together, Y/n gasping his name as he eased them through their climax. When it was over Bob leaned down to capture her lips, wiping away her tears before removing himself to clean her. They basked in the afterglow, Y/n laying her head on his chest while he lightly traced the tattoos on her arm with his finger.

“Can I ask you something?” He asked, making her humm in response. “Enrique…”

The woman made a sound, lifting her head to gaze at him. “Enrique and I had been friends for some time—and we did drunkenly hook up once to get the sexual tension out of the way but that was it,” Bob controlled his reaction, though he couldn't say anything for he too had his fair share of one night stands. “The band’s contract was renewed and The Walking Dead was just starting out. The label and his producers thought it was a good idea for us to be seen together. Just to bring in some press for our upcoming album and the show. But we never felt anything more than friends for each other.”

Bob sat up a bit, causing her to lean on her elbows as she rested on her stomach. His expression was unreadable, “but you two were married.” Again Y/n let out a sigh.

“Enrique and I were friends so we shared things. He confided in me, I confided in him—Enrique was in love with someone who he couldn’t have. Ring a bell?” She raised a brow at him. “I was in the same boat. Just like how you said you couldn’t bring yourself to love anyone else, I couldn’t either. But at the time I thought you were married, Robby.” That had his eyes widened. “I called your mom after the concert that night, hoping to get to you and she told me you were engaged. So when I met Enrique and we both were going through the same thing, we thought ‘instead of being miserable alone, let’s be miserable together.’ Our publicists hated the idea, but we both believed we wouldn’t get our fairytale ending.”

Something in the way she said that last sentence had Bob think about Enrique Lorenzo. Most recently it was revealed he was in a relationship with fellow costar Simon Zahir, coming out as bisexual to the world with an instagram post of the two sharing a kiss.

“So you married him even though you didn’t love him?” Kinda like how he almost did with Abby. It made Bob frown thinking about it.

“I did love him, just not the way a wife should love their husband. And he understood because he couldn’t love me the way a husband would their wife,” she sadly smiled, “It was a mutual understanding where we would go and support each other at premiers and award shows, kiss for the cameras, all that was needed to show the media we were a happy couple. But behind closed doors we actually lived separately.”

Hesitant to ask, Bob waited a moment before saying what was on his mind the last couple years. “What made you two divorce?” The question made her give a small smile.

“Simon confessed to Enrique he loved him after they finished filming season four, and that he and his wife were divorcing. When Enrique told me… I could just see the hope in his eyes, and who was I to deny him his chance at happiness just because I didn’t want to be alone. It would have been selfish of me to. No, I told him the first thing the next morning we’d file but our publicists called and asked to wait until Simon was divorced before we went through with ours. That’s why we were ‘separated’ for a year,” she put quotes around ‘separated’. “We didn’t want to cite irreconcilable differences since it was a mutual decision, but the lawyers thought that was the best route to go.”

Bringing a hand up to caress her cheek, Bob asked the second question he wanted to know, “What made you come here?” She leaned into his touch, “you said you thought I was married. How did you even get here?” The last question was more due to the fact The 1985’s were currently on tour. It was another reason why he was so shocked to see her there when he arrived.

“We played in Helena last night. After the show I had this feeling I needed to come here, so I called my mom to get your mom’s number. That’s when she told me you were flying in today.” Her face turned to one of guilt, “I sorta feel like a bitch because tomorrow is your birthday and I came here knowing there would likely be an argument. Even though I thought you were married, I just really wanted to know the truth. It was eating me up. And with that feeling I needed to come here again after so many years, it sorta felt like a sign—if you can call it that.”

Leaning more into his hand, Y/n added, “I didn’t come with the intentions of winning you over or anything—especially under the impression you were married. I wanted answers, that was all. Although,” she kisses his wrist, “I’m not complaining with how things turned out.”

“Me either,” he agreed with a laugh. As he moved in to kiss her, a knock on the door interrupted causing the two to look like deer in headlights.

“If you two are presentable,” it was his sister, “then we’d be happy if y’all joined us for dinner sometime soon. But by all means, take your time.” She ended with a cheeky laugh before footsteps indicated she had walked away.

Bob let his head fall back into the pillow with a groan while Y/n giggled. She went to get up, but the man wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to him. “Five more minutes,” he mumbled into her neck. “I’ve waited too long for this.” Humming, he felt her hands go to his air, maneuvering them so he was on top of her.

Y/n gasped at the feeling of him becoming hard again, causing Bob to smirk as she wrapped her legs around him to offer assistance. “Me too, baby. Me too.”

In the haze of it all and as the weeks passed, the two began to live the life they dreamed of with each other. Neither realized they had forgotten protection that night….until Y/n was puking on the tour bus and counted the days since her last period.

“Look at me,” Bob held her hands. They sat in her hotel room in Sacramento, the band finishing out their tour in California before setting to work on their next album. When she called him that morning about her possibly being pregnant Bob got in his car and drove straight there. Thankfully it was a Saturday so he was off and had great timing. Pepper was kind enough to give her a spare pregnancy test she had on her, so Y/n waited until Bob arrived to take it.

Relieving herself on the stick, she kept it in the bathroom to wait for the results while she sat with him on the bed. She was crying, unsure how to feel. Part of her was excited at the idea of being pregnant and having a baby with Bob, but also feared it was too soon. They had just started dating, she was on tour until the end of the month, and they had been keeping their relationship quiet from the public so she was scared of what could happen.

For the WSO, he was going to be happy regardless of the outcome. “Look at me, Y/n. Everything is going to be okay. I am not leaving you—I swear to you, baby. If that says positive, then believe me when I say I will be the happiest man alive,” she whimpered, making him press kisses her cheek lovingly, “We’ll get through it together. You’re gonna be done with the tour in a few weeks and then we can take it from there. And if it’s negative then that’s completely okay too.”

When the results did come, the stick reading in small letters pregnant, the couple cried together with Bob pulling Y/n into his lap. “I love you—I love you,” he kissed all over her face, her cries turning into giggles. “It’s going to be okay, Y/n. I’m so happy, darlin’. So so happy. I want nothing more in this world than to have a baby with you. You’re going to be the best momma ever. I know it.”

October of 2017 brought Marcel Brandon Floyd into the world. Keeping her pregnancy a secret, no one besides the band and their families had knowledge of the birth of their son. Thankfully Bob’s identity was still hidden, both very careful to not let paparazzi catch them together. Especially with Y/n being pregnant they didn’t want to add on the stress of the media discovering their relationship. They planned to announce it on their own at some point once the baby had arrived.

It wasn’t until Marcel was roughly a month old that Y/n posted an Instagram picture with his tiny hand wrapped around her finger, ‘my world has arrived 🤍 10.20.17.’ The announcement had Y/n trending #1 on Twitter and talk show hosts calling to have her on the show. Y/n declined, she only really made television appearances with the band if they were performing, but that was only when they released new music.

Around the holidays was when Bob proposed. They were sitting by the fire, Y/n in his lap with Marcel in her arms when Bob simply said, “Marry me.”

At first she thought he was joking, but then he removed a velvet box from his pocket. Her eyes watered, “Are you serious?”

“More than I’ve ever been. You’re my person, baby. I’ve waited for this moment my whole life—and I won’t waste another second. Marry me, Y/n. Be my wife and I promise to love you even after death.”

He truly meant it when he said he didn’t want to waste another second. After she said yes, they put Marcel to bed and Bob made an appointment at the courthouse, both agreeing to get legally married and wait for a big ceremony some other time. They made love all through the night until the sun rose. In the morning the little family and the band gathered in the courthouse and tied the knot.

Y/n already knew the media was going to have stuff to say about her when the news broke. This was her second marriage, also happening in the spur of the moment like her first one. Only this time around it was with her soulmate so the rockstar couldn’t give a fuck what they had to say. She and Bob were coming up on a year, had a child, and planned to spend every second of their lives together. She loved him with every ounce of her being.

On instagram the picture posted was of their rings followed by one of them kissing where his face was hidden. “I’ve been keeping a secret from all of you. In January I reunited with my childhood best friend, who I was in love with way before The 1985’s were even thought of. Things happened in life causing us to drift apart, but we recently found our way back to each other and I plan to never let him go. He is my second half. The person I was meant to grow old with. I can’t put into words how happy I am and with the birth of our son, our little fairytale seems to be working out. Some of you may think this is all too fast but let me tell you this, we’ve waited a long time for this moment. I ask that you please respect our privacy and thank you to all who have supported me over the years. Much love, Y/n ♥���”

For almost two years the two kept their relationship under wraps from the media. Then in October of 2019, just before Marcel’s birthday Bob was called back to Top Gun. It’d been several years since he graduated from the program, surprised they even wanted him for the mission. With how timing was the WSO would have to report to Fightertown a couple days after his son turned two. Y/n had a beach house in San Diego, deciding her and Marcel would stay there while Bob was in his detachment and what made it better was Xavier and Farrah—who fell in love over the course of their years as a band— were both from San Diego, both currently there while the band took a small break. Bob would have to stay on base with candidates, but after training ended he’d come to the house to be with them.

Pepper and Thomas were back in L.A, but we’re working on beats for their upcoming album and sending the three what they had for them to add on or scrap if they felt it didn’t fit. They had a meeting with the two Zoom with Xavier and Farrah and their two young kids at Y/n’s place the day she got the call Bob was in an accident.

“Hello?” She answered the phone, moving to the side away from where Xavier was drumming. Marcel was in his little playpen, a pair of baby earmuffs over his ears to protect them from the loud noise.

“Hi….” The guy on the opposite end let out a soft chuckle. “I’m looking for uh, Y/n L/n?” His tone was that of someone who found it funny he was asking for someone he definitely thought wouldn’t be on the other end of the phone. Like he saw the name on the card and said, “there’s no fucking way this is the guy married to Y/n L/n,” but because of his job he had to call the number anyway.

“This is her. Who am I speaking to?”

The man went silent for a moment, before clearing his throat. “This is Lieutenant Royce from NAS Miramar medical group,” Y/n’s heart picked up as dread filled her, “Can you confirm you are the spouse of Lieutenant Robert Floyd.”

“Yes,” she rushed out. “I am. Is he okay? Did something happen?” Closing her eyes, she prayed she wasn’t about to receive the worst news imaginable. No, Bob had to be okay.

“There was an accident with his F-18 this afternoon, he had to eject—.”

“Excuse me one second,” she apologized before bringing the phone back slightly to yell at the drummer, “Xavier! Stop drumming for five seconds—I need to fucking hear right now!” The man winced as he mouthed, ‘sorry’ catching the ashen look on her face. Both he and Farrah set aside their instruments, watching Y/n turn away to speak again, this time more calmly. “Please repeat that for me, Lieutenant.”

When Royce heard the name of The 1985’s drummer being shouted at, the Lieutenant nearly forgot what he was calling for, “U-uh, yes. There was an emergency ejection in your husband’s F-18 this afternoon during training. He is okay minus a few bruises, but he will be staying overnight in our facility for observation.”

“Oh my gosh, okay,” she breathed in relief, bringing a hand to her mouth to calm herself. “Is there any way I can see him?”

“Do you have a dependent ID card?” She tells him yes and he says with a light cough, “Then yes you can come onto base and see him.” Royce gave the address, still finding it hard to believe he may have been talking with the frontwoman of the most popular rock band in the last 15 years. He really thought it was just someone who shared a name with her. But then again, they sounded very alike.

Thanking the officer, Y/n wrote down the address and rushed to grab her purse. “I have to go to base—something happened with Bob. Can you guys watch Marcel until I get back?”

“Of course,” Farrah told her, “go go, we’ll stay here and clean everything up.”

Practically speeding onto base, it was the first time she ever had to use her military ID, which had the guard at the front gate jaw drop. He maintained professionalism, scanning her card and nodding to the rockstar. As much as he wanted to ask for a photo the guy could tell she was in distress and it wasn’t a good idea. “Have a good day, Ms. L/n.”

“Thank you, sir. You too.” She waved apologetically, recognizing the look she often got from fans. Had the situation been different she would’ve happily chatted a little longer.

It was the same when she got to the infirmary. The receptionist, who looked to be in her mid twenties, dropped the apple in her hand while other young servicemen were doing double takes and whispering. “That’s fucking Y/n L/n.” “Are you sure?” “I’m serious! I had a huge crush on her in college. I’d recognize her anywhere.”

“Hi,” she offered a small smile, aware the guy to her left had his phone out trying to sneak a picture, likely tweeting the fact she was in a Navy hospital. “I’m looking for my husband, Lieutenant Robert Floyd. I received a call from a Lieutenant Royce saying he was here.”

Upon hearing his name, the gentlemen seated behind the girl with his back to her spun around, eyes bulging when they landed on Y/n. The chair almost fell when he stood abruptly. “T-that’s me. Yes I’m the one who called you, Ms. L/n. If you would follow me I’ll take you to him.”

“Thank you,” she walked behind him, ignoring the whispers and comments made by those around. By now TMZ probably got tipped off, she could already feel her phone buzzing—no doubt from her publicist wondering what the hell was going on. She made a mental note to call her back later to explain.

Royce knocked gently on the door before opening it, “Lieutenant—oh you have visitors I apologize,” he glanced over his shoulder to Y/n, still in disbelief on what he was about to say. Turning back to Bob, Royce gives a nod, “your wife is here.”

“She is?” Y/n heard Bob, and some murmurs of voices going, “Wife?” “When the hell did he get married?”

Pushing past Royce, thanking him briefly, Y/n entered the room only to stop short at the several pairs of eyes landing on her. Off to the side she saw a man with a buzz cut drop his bag of chips, choking on the one in his mouth, “What. the. fuck.”

The two standing in front of the bed—mouths agape—parted away allowing Y/n to see Bob sitting with his flight suit unzipped and tied around his waist. Exhaling in utter relief the woman rushes to him, throwing her arms around his neck. “Oh, Robby.” She felt his arms go to her waist, pulling her closer as she hid her face in his neck. Y/n could literally cry with how happy she was to see him in one piece.

“I’m okay, darlin’.” He rubbed her back, aware his fellow aviators were staring at them with mixed expressions. They looked confused, disbelieved, shocked, and in awe.

The quiet, reserved, yet sometimes sassy WSO is married to the woman who's been ruling the radio over the last decade.

Who had seven fucking Grammy’s under her band’s name.

Pulling away, Y/n ran her hands along his shoulders, checking for any visible wounds. “What happened? Lieutenant Royce told me you had to eject?”

“There was a bird strike,” he explained, taking her hands and soothing them with his thumbs. “We lost both engines—Phoenix tried to get back control but we were going too fast and couldn’t save the jet. Had to eject at the last second—we’re okay though, I promise. Just a little shaken.”

“Thank God you’re alright,” she sniffed, hugging him again while kissing his cheek. “Leave it to you getting in an accident that makes me use my ID for the first time.”

“How was that?”

“Interesting. I was tempted to run the gate because I had no patience, but controlled myself. Getting arrested would not have been good.”

“No it wouldn’t,” he chuckled, pressing his lips to her forehead.

The clearing of someone’s throat ended the moment, Y/n removing herself from Bob to face the group of aviators who were still speechless by the scene. Smiling shyly, Y/n took in each of them. “Hello, I’m Y/n.”

“Oh we know who you are,” Fanboy said with awe, groaning when Payback smacked his shoulder with a disapproving look. “Sorry that was not the best thing to say. What I-I meant was we’re all fans of your work.”

“And by that he means we were all jamming to your music on the tarmac just yesterday, not understanding why Bobby here looked so smug when Seresin said he could totally get a shot with you if he ever got the chance,” Rooster added on, resulting in the blonde pilot to glare at him before blushing when the others started to laugh.

“Well now I sure as hell won’t try—I’m not that shallow to hit on a married woman, Bradshaw. Made that mistake ages ago and it was not pretty. Anyways, sorry Bob for what I said,” he held a hand up, “but let me be the first to say what a fucking G you are. And Y/n, it’s an honor to be in your presence. Big fan.”

Y/n raised a brow, smirking to her husband to see his reaction. He sure did look smug, keeping his arm around her waist. “A fucking G, huh?”

“He’s the one who said it,” he smiles before noticing she was alone when she arrived, “Where’s Marcel?”

“With Xav and Farrah. They were at the house when I got the call—we were working on some songs.” In the corner of her eye she saw Coyote and Fanboy visibly react to the mention of her bandmates.

“Forgive me for asking,” Phoenix finally spoke from her bed that was seated right next to Bob’s. “But weren’t you two childhood best friends if I’m not mistaken? Sorry if it’s too personal, but I remember seeing your post on instagram two years ago and I thought it said something like that.”

The couple smiled, confirming her wonders. “Yeah,” Bob looked at Y/n with love in his eyes. “We grew up together. Took a hell of a long time before we could get our chance at love, but it was worth the wait.”

For almost an hour the aviators learned more about Y/n and Bob’s relationship, literally saying it should be a romance novel with what life threw at them. The hopeless romantic in Phoenix couldn’t help but awe, feeling so much happiness for her backseater and the rockstar she’d been listening to since sixteen. They truly were the ultimate love story.

When it came time for the mission with Bob and Phoenix selected as one of two foxtrot teams, Y/n held onto him the entire night prior to him shipping out. He made love to her for hours, very slow and sensual ensuring she felt every inch of him. And when they climaxed a tear spilled from her eyes, “You better come home to me.”

He kept a picture of her and Marcel in his pocket the entire time. Before the jet took off of the carrier Bob gave it a small kiss before keeping it safe in his flight suit. The second they got back after successfully completing the mission he called his wife to tell her he was coming home. She practically catapulted into his arms when she picked him up from the docks, not giving a shit that the paparazzi had followed her there. By now the whole world knew who Bob was to her.

The rest of 2019 seemed to go by in a blur. They first thought 2020 would be the best year of their lives when it was discovered Y/n was pregnant again, having conceived the night Bob had left for his mission. She was just at the end of her first trimester when the entire globe shut down. When the rumors spread of a possible pandemic with the outbreak happening across the ocean, the 1985’s all took up camp in San Diego now that Bob had become an instructor with Phoenix at Top Gun. Thomas and his fiancé, who was an actress, didn’t mind moving, neither did Pepper and her girlfriend. The group were working on their sixth studio album and had celebrated 15 years as a group.

But they were starting to get burnt out, thinking it was time to go on hiatus.

Concerned with the virus and what it could have on her pregnancy, the two were very strict on keeping up with covid restriction. For at least three months Bob was working from home, the base shutting down with only certain personnel allowed on. Marcel was still too young to be in pre-school and daycare wasn’t needed since Y/n was home most days. And when she did have business meetings to attend or studio sessions he often traveled with her. Zoom became their best friend during the lockdown, with meetings happening frequently at the beginning to figure out what they were going to do going forward.

Y/n spent weeks going through what were the best records to put on the album. If this was going to be their last for a while then she wanted it to be their best. Two songs she knew she wanted were ‘Pompeii’ and ‘Little Black Dress’, while the other 13 were going to take time to decide. ‘Pompeii’ could definitely have people relate with how this lockdown was making them feel. On the other hand, ‘Little Black Dress’ was mostly for her, inspired by the time Bob went absolutely feral when she walked into the room wearing a little black dress.

It was one of her favorite memories.

And so the months went on and before they knew it they were welcoming a baby girl in July—right smack in the middle of a pandemic. The whole ordeal was unlike anything they ever imagined. Only Bob was allowed in the room, not even their son could come visit so little Marcel didn’t even get to meet his sister until days later. He was with Y/n’s mother who traveled down from L.A and quarantined in the weeks leading to her due date. Y/n hated hospitals, looking forward to bringing their daughter Brenda Rose home. Unfortunately no one else in their family or friends could meet the baby girl until spring of 2021 when things were starting to settle out.

That was also when The 1985s made the decision to go on hiatus, planning to release their album that summer before going on a final tour in 2022.

“This just in, pop rock group ,The 1985s, have announced a hiatus following the release of their upcoming album End of An Era set to drop at the end July. Frontwoman, Y/n L/n, posted on her Twitter a photo of the group in a sweet embrace with the caption, ‘when one chapter ends, another begins. Join us in 2022 as we say goodbye to the stage—thank you to everyone who has supported us since we were kids on MySpace. We hope to see you as we close this chapter in our lives, but don’t worry, the future can always surprise you. In the meantime, as Elvis would say, ‘The 1985s have left the building.’”

“It’s a sad day for fans of Grammy award winning rock band The 1985s. Earlier it was announced they are going on an indefinite hiatus once completing their impending world tour for their sixth studio album. Formed in 2003, the 1985s skyrocketed to the Billboard charts after debuting with their single ‘1985’ in 2005, going on to dominate the late 2000s and early 2010s with features on The Twilight Saga: Eclipse soundtrack, the 25th anniversary of We Are The World to raise charity for the Haiti earthquake, and accumulating a total of seven Grammys including taking home the big three: ‘Record of The Year,’ ‘Song of The Year,’ and ‘Album of The Year’ in 2008 for their second studio album Sugar, Spice, and A Little Bit of Rock ‘N’ Roll. The announcement of the hiatus has succeeded the news of bassist Thomas Quinn tying the knot with longtime girlfriend, Oscar Winner Amelia Bandera, who recently revealed she was pregnant with the couple’s first child. Last year frontwoman Y/n L/n welcomed a daughter with her husband—the couple’s second child since they wed in a private ceremony in 2017. And word on the street is keyboardist Pepper Renolyds is looking to adopt with partner Jenna Langdon. The married pair of the band, Xavier and Farrah Hernandez have had two children following their wedding in 2010 and have hinted at possibly wanting to have a third. It is unsure when the group is likely to regroup after 2022 comes to an end, but one thing is for sure: The 1985s have embedded their name as one of the bestselling groups of the 21st century. I’d say we could be looking at a possible induction to the Rock ‘N’ Roll Hall of Fame in the future, and a Star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame.”

Now here they were, November of 2022 at Madison Square Garden to take the stage one last time. Would they ever come back? Probably, but it would be some time before they did.

So they were gonna go out with a bang.

“I have twenty minutes until my ass needs to be on stage, Robby,” Y/n mumbled between kisses, back pressed against the door of her dressing room. His mouth went to her neck, roaming his hands all over her body that was covered in her usual leather, “That’s plenty of time.” The response had her giggle, moaning when he attacked her sweet spot making him smirk.

“Then you better do double time…we’re on the clock.”

Her glam team was going to be pissed when she came out with messy hair, glistening of sweat, and slightly smudged makeup, but she didn’t care. Not when her husband was rocking her world as he had her bent over the couch. His chest pressed to her back and hair in his fist, whispering absolute filth into her ear—saying he was going to have her on stage full of him and only he would know. But Bob also gave words of praise and love.

It wasn’t the first time he snuck backstage to rile her up before a concert. When they started the American leg of the tour in California he was at almost every show and would bring her flowers. Sometimes the kids came along, other times they stayed with Phoenix, but each time Bob would either get her pent up by teasing her as the minutes counted down…or would full on rail her. He'd be lying if he said he didn’t get off on the thrill of almost getting caught….or the fact anyone passing the dressing room could figure out what they were making their own music.

This time around in The Garden their kids were with Phoenix and Rooster, who were all waiting to get to their spots on the floor after wishing her and the band good luck. The others were already there, ready to have the time of their lives with the sold out arena. Bob needed to hurry because the stage manager was going to be knocking on her door any second.

They finished with minutes to spare, out of breath and panting with a light layer of sweat coating Y/n. Fuck she looked sexy in her leather and messed up hair, glistening as the light hit her. A smug look took over Bob, winking at his wife who just shook her head with a smile, “I’m gonna miss that now that the tour is over.”

“Don’t worry, baby. We still got after party.”

The rockstar ushered him out when the stage manager appeared, the aviator delivering a smack to her ass as he told her good luck. She smacked his in return causing him to yelp, “Naughty boy.”

Yeah he got some looks from his fellow officers when they got to the floor, Jake whistling under his breath as he went to check his watch. “Jesus Bob, you two were at it for a while. Were you trying to go for baby number three? I hope she’s able to walk on stage.” The comment had Phoenix slap his shoulder, “Can you not? We have kids with us,” she gestured to not only Bob’s children but also Payback's ten year old son and Hondo’s seven year old daughter. Then there was Mickey’s girlfriend carrying their toddler with baby earmuffs, the same Brenda and Marcel were wearing. “My bad,” Jake said, though the smirk remained on his face when Bob sent him a wink.

When the show started it was the most amazing thing any of the squad had witnessed. Some of them had seen the band in their college days, but it was obvious they were gonna top what they did ten years ago. There was a light rumble to Madison Square Garden with how loud it was. Flashing lights and smoke covered the stage, the countdown with a video montage hitting zero before The 1985’s opened with ‘Where Do Broken Hearts Go,’ sending everyone who was still sitting on their feet. Bob put Brenda on his shoulders, Rooster doing the same with Marcel who were clapping and pointing to their mother, “Mommy!”

“Now, I’m searching every lonely place,” Y/n belted out the first line of the chorus, moving down the stage’s elongated platform that split the floor. “Every corner calling out your name. Tryna find you, but I just don’t know.” Xavier hit the drums with Farrah’s riff, Y/n holding a hand to chest, “Where do broken hearts go?”

“Are you sleeping, baby, by yourself? Or are you giving it to someone else? Tryna find you, but I just don’t know,” Pepper and Thomas joined the vocals, “Where do broken hearts go? Where do broken hearts go?”

When the song came to an end, Y/n let the audience scream for a moment before introducing the band. “Madison Square Garden!! New York City!!” The crowd screamed again, smiles on every member. “Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, theys and thems and anyone in between…. welcome to the ‘End of An Era’ world tour—our final show as we close out an actual end of an era,” Y/n moves closer to her friends with a sad laugh, hearing the sounds of protest from some fans.

“Let’s start off by introducing ourselves…..Mr. Thomas Quinn on the bass!” Tom hits some chords against the audience’s cheers, Y/n doing a little dance off to the side. “Miss. Pepper Reynolds on keys everyone!” The former pianist lets her fingers move along the keys, grinning wide and waving when she finishes. “Show me what you can do, Ms. Farrah Cortez,” the guitar solo sends the crowd into a frenzy, which only increases when Y/n introduces Xavier. “And last but not least, Mr. Farrah Cortez,” laughter rings out before she corrects herself, “I meant Mr. Xavier Hernandez,” the drums go crazy when his last name leaves her lips. She waits till he’s finished to do a bow.

“And I’m Y/n L/n,” she has to pull her mic away to hide her laugh, cheers ringing from every corner in the sold out stadium. “And we’re The 1985s.”

The energy throughout the concert was insane. Even during intermission and 5-minute breaks the audience was having a blast. The dagger squad, plus Hondo and even Maverick were dancing and singing along—the older man getting a literal PowerPoint lesson from his former students on everything there was to know about the group.

Y/n was very entertained when Bob told her that night, saying Maverick aced his test they’d given him. “You gave your old instructor, the famous Captain Mitchell….a test on our band and music? And he got a 100%?” His little nod and smile had Y/n jump in his arms, kissing all over his face, “You’re so fucking adorable, Robby. I love you so much.”

The first part of the show was mostly dedicated to songs on their most recent album, including ‘Pompeii’ and ‘Little Black Dress’. The latter had Bob blushing mad during the set, especially when Y/n came over to where they were at, eyes on him and curing a finger to get him to come to the edge of the floor. There the stadium exploded when she practically laid on the platform to lean over and kiss him, the cameras catching the scene to display on the giant screens.

Blowing kisses to her kids, she got back up and finished the song, smirking at how the dagger squad were whistling and howling in cheers. “Sorry I couldn’t help myself,” she giggled, moving back to her bandmates to prepare for the next set.

Though the tour mainly focused on their songs from their latest work, they called back to some old hits, including ‘Let’s Get Lost,’ which was written for the third Twilight movie soundtrack. “We got any Twilight fans here tonight?” Y/n chuckled at the screams, “I got one thing to ask then….Team Edward or Jacob?”

‘Some Nights’ was one of her favorites to perform, feeling a wave of nostalgia each time she did. It was a fan favorite as it was their second single ever released. The band harmonized on the track, all of them showing off their vocals with the ‘Oh come on,’ part of the song.

Y/n was hesitant to sing ‘Iris’ and ‘Payphone,’ considering they were about her husband, but he assured her when they were planning the tour set list that he wouldn’t be offended. They were some of her greatest works, the audience should hear them.

They even covered the iconic, ‘Don’t You Forget About Me,’ from the Simple Minds—most notably from the movie The Breakfast Club. “I hope you never forget about us, New York,” Y/n said when they finished, “Cause we’ll never forget you.”

Finally they were coming down to the final ten minutes and they had yet to play the song that started it all. “As we come to the end of tonight’s show, we just wanna thank each and every one of you for the support and love you have shown us tonight and through the years. None of this would’ve happened without you all—and we cannot thank you enough for sticking by us, you all play a giant role in what we do. And we’re going to miss you the most as we close this chapter in our lives,” Y/n pauses, feeling the tears prick her eyes. Glancing at her friends, she could see they were fighting back their own. They knew it would be an emotional night, and now they were minutes away from stepping off the stage for the final time.

“We started this journey when we were only seventeen and eighteen—and it’s been a hell of a ride since. Next year marks twenty years since we became The 1985s, seventeen since we made our radio debut, back when MySpace was still a thing,” she has to laugh at that, “What better way to end this tour—end this chapter, than by traveling back in time to the year that started it all.”

The reaction in the dome had little Brenda have to cover her hands over her muffs because it was so loud, Bob holding her on his hip and asking if she was alright. “Loud,” she said in her small voice, causing him to mentally awe.

“I know, baby, it’s loud. But the show is almost over and then mommy will be done, then we go home. Can you hold on for one more song? It’s your favorite one,” Brenda’s eyes brightened at the mention of her favorite song, nodding frantically making him laugh. “Okay munchkin, I expect to hear you sing along—except don’t say the bad word in it, understood?”

“Yes, dada.”

Phoenix was jumping up and down with Marcel in her arms, head banging with the little boy along with Rooster and Javy. Everyone was in delight, rockin out to the final number. Brenda sang along with Bob, the crowd harmonizing with them.

“She’s seen all the classics,” Y/n belted the second verse, hands moving on her guitar, “She knows every line. Breakfast Club, Pretty In Pink, even St. Elmo’s Fire.”

“She rocked out to Wham, not a big Limp Bizkit fan. Thought she’d get a hand on a member of Duran Duran.”

Her and Farrah were leaning their backs against one another, “Where’s the mini-skirt made of snakeskin? And who’s the other guy that’s singin’ in Van Halen? When did reality become TV? Whatever happened to,” she hit a riff, “sitcoms,” she hit another, “game shows? Sing it!”

The entire squad, the kids, and Madison Square Garden echoed, “ON THE RADIO!”

“Was Springsteen, Madonna. Way before Nirvana there was U2 and Blondie, and music still on MTV. Her two kids in high school, they tell her that she’s uncool. ‘Cause she’s still preoccupied with 19…19…1985!”

Her mini solo before the bridge had the crowd wild. Smiling the entire time, Y/n even went to the side where her friends and family were, making them all go crazy. “She hates time, make it stop. When did Motley Crue become classic rock?”

“Classic rock,” the band repeated.

“And when did Ozzy become an actor? Please make this stop,” Y/n hit a riff, “stop,” another, “stop!” Only the cheers could be heard during the slight pause before Y/n brought her hand back on the chords.

“And bring back Springsteen, Madonna. Way before Nirvana. There was U2 and Blondie, and music still on MTV. Her two kids in high school, they tell her that she’s uncool. ‘Cause she’s still preoccupied—sing it!”

“1985!!!”

“One last time Madison Square Garden!!” Not a single person in them dome didn’t sing along, everyone shouting the final chorus at the top of their lungs.

“Since Bruce Springsteen, Madonna. Way before Nirvana. There was U2 and Blondie, and music still on MTV. Her two kids in high school, they tell her that she’s uncool. But she’s still preoccupied, with 19….19….1985!!!”

All the band members continued playing an extended outro, lights flashing all around as the crowd whistled and screamed. Y/n ran over to each side of the stage before coming to the middle, waving a hand to her band who were still going hard on the instruments before raising it and finally bowing.

On the floor, Brenda still in his arms, Bob wiped away the tears falling from his cheeks with his free hand. His friends were cheering, the entire scene overwhelming for the WSO as he stared at his true love as she took her final bow. Y/n was also crying, as were her friends when they finally closed the show shouting, “Madison Square Garden—New York City we love you! Thank you so much for being here with us and being the best crowd ever. Safe travels wherever you’re going and we hope all your dreams come true. Until we meet again….as Elvis would say, The 1985s have left the building!”

The crowd was still screaming, the five adults coming to the middle of the stage holding hands in the air before bowing. Then they all met in a tearful embrace, Y/n full on sobbing with Farrah and Pepper, overcome with emotion that it was all over. Waving to the crowd, they spotted dozens of fans in their line of vision crying, some even throwing flowers onto the stage. They all went to each side of the platform to blow kisses and wave, until finally walking off into the arms of their crew who’d been with them since 2005–where another heartfelt moment took place.

As soon as their families made it backstage, Y/n was dropping to her knees to allow Brenda and Marcel to run into her open arms. “My babies!!” Peppering kisses against their cheeks, Y/n held them tight as they said words of praise. “You were amazing, mommy!” “That was so fun!”

“Thank you, baby,” she kissed Marcel’s head, looking up to see Bob staring at her with absolute love and admiration. Gently moving him and Brenda to the side, Y/n stood up, only to squeal when Bob’s hands went to her thighs to lift her up, spinning them around.

“You were incredible!” He exclaims, stopping still but still holding her up. Their lips met in a searing kiss, “absolutely spectacular.” Her hands came up to cup his face, deepening the kiss as their children wrapped their arms around Bob’s legs. It was like they were in their own little world, oblivious to everyone celebrating around them. The band were with their kids and partners, the crew were popping off champagne.

“I love you so much, Robby,” she said against his lips, kissing him again when he said, “I love you too, baby. More than anything in this world. I’m so fucking proud of you.”

When they pulled away, Y/n was a flustered mess, mirroring that of Bob who was looking at her like she was a goddess. “Don’t give me that look, Floyd. Not until we get to the hotel.”

“Can’t help myself, darlin’,” he chuckled, adjusting her in his arms before giving her another kiss.

“Eww,” Marcel groaned, making the couple laugh into the kiss. Bob set Y/n down, but pulled her close as Brenda and Marcel squeezed in between them.

“So what’s next then?” Bob whispered in her ear. “I know you can take the girl out of rock n roll…but she’ll always be a rockstar.” Y/n laughed, pulling away to gaze deeply in his beautiful blue eyes that she fell in love with as a teenager.

“Now, we live our lives. One day at a time. Together.”

Y/n really needed to thank her mom one day. It was because of her that the woman got to live her dream. After all, she was the one still preoccupied with 1985.

……….

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