#it's been a healing tour not just for them but for us i know too

[flugame-mp3]

no matter the other shit that's been going on in my life, talking about this tour with y'all and experiencing it together has helped save my life this year. i know people have said it but i'm so glad we got to do this together. and i can't wait for next time. i'm giving you all a big giant hug, i love you and i mean it!!!

[tealvenetianmask]

I want to talk about a kind of troubling reaction I've been seeing to both Apology Tour and Ghostfuckers among parts of the fandom. The person is usually a reaction youtuber but sometimes someone writing on tumblr or twitter. They say something along the lines of "oh, I'm glad Blitz is being forced to confront his crimes/traumas/pain. This is the only way he will finally heal."

That's not how healing works.

I know that reaction youtubers don't always have the most developed takes because they're . . . you know . . . reacting in the moment. But I think it's still worth talking about.

I'm going set aside the people who seem to believe that Blitz needs to be punished for his crimes, and address those who genuinely think that getting a tidal wave of his own trauma in his face is what he needs to heal.

There's an attitude in contemporary culture that traumas are something people need to confront. As in, put on a brave face and dive in like a big boy. I blame capitalism, rugged individualism, and all the pieces of media that tie up a character's arc neatly by having them confront their darkest fears and insecurities. It can put a nice bow on things, but it isn't really how healing from trauma works.

Apology Tour:

Blitz gets confronted by a shit ton of people who hate him, at least some of whom are his exes, who he feels he's personally damaged. The decor and party games are all about killing and torturing him. Verosika confronts him about how much he hurt her. Oh, and then he sees the love of his life, who he's just recently pushed away, making out with another guy- proof, in his eyes, that Stolas is happier without him. And this all reflects the underlying fears he already has about who he is as a person (shown to us by Truth Seekers).

So what was the takeaway? Blitz came to the conclusion that he doesn't always want to be like this (good, but like . . . worth this much pain?). He flops on his steering wheel (relatable). He stops trying to reach out to Stolas (uh oh . . . ). He spends A MONTH spiraling in his own misery and making a mess of all aspects of his life until he's dragged out of it by a caring friend.

The party doesn't empower Blitz to change. It knocks him down and fucking traumatizes him (seriously, images of Stolas from the party show up later in his trauma reel) too much for him to be able to do actually work toward said change. I suspect that if left to his own devices, he would have kept spiraling for quite a while longer. It's one thing to want to change, and another to try to do so alone in the aftermath of a pile-on.

Ghostfuckers

After Blitz drags himself out of his hole of cheesy ice cream and despair to "play sex ghosts" (escapism, again, still knocked down by Apology Tour), infester demon Rolando picks him out as an easy target and assaults him, yes, assaults, with horrific images of his worst traumas and fears.

Not to state the obvious, but Rolando isn't interested in helping Blitz heal. He's trying to kill the guy. He wants to engulf Blitz in his trauma to the extent where he's consumed by it and loses the will to fight back. And as some excellent posts by others have pointed out already, he very likely would have succumbed if not for Millie's support.

Millie helps Blitz get through the onslaught by telling him about what makes him great and how he's improved her life and showing him love and care. And by literally beating the fucking infester out of him. Because there's someone in him who's hurting him, who's re-traumatizing him against his will. She takes him away from the reel of horrible memories.

So . . . do I think that confronting traumas can play a role in healing? Sure. But only if it's consensually (which neither of these situations are) and when the person trying to heal is ready. And most likely in small doses. No one's going and successfully confronting every horrible thing that's ever happened to them in one go.

And in my humble opinion, it's not going to work (for anyone, but especially not for Blitz) alone and without a healthy dose of kindness and compassion (both external and internal).

Blitz has a long road ahead of him toward healing, and it's going to be hard work on his part but also require love and support from the people in his life.

In a wonderful moment near the end of Ghosfuckers, Blitz and Millie work together to get Blitz's wrecked van unstuck and push it back through the portal into Hell. I love it because it's so simple and it kind of tells us everything we need to know. This sweet and salty gremlin has a lot of work ahead of him, but he doesn't have to do it alone.

[velnoni]

any romantic/nsfw headcanons for stanley pines in a relationship with a trans man who has top surgery already? can be young or old stanley, it doesn't matter

Admittedly, I've never written for a trans male reader, so I hope this came out good. Hope you enjoy it!

Stan Pines x Trans Male Reader

His dating pool is quite minimal if we're being honest here but when he meets you he's genuinely embarrassed, trips over his words a bit, and sweats more than normal. Definitely has the hots for you.

Over the years he's mellowed out and accepted that he could be into guys as well, keep in mind this is a fella who grew up in the 50s so expect him to be a bit nervous or rough around the edges. He shows a genuine interest in you and tries to woo you by giving a tour of the Myserty Shack, ending on the note of giving you his personal number.

Enjoys showing you off. Does not care for the age gap if there is one. Truth be told, he hadn't realized how lonely its been all these years. He really likes giving you kisses on the forehead or sneaking up behind you to tickle your sides in the morning. Will proudly grab your shoulder or waist in public and wiggle his eyebrows to make you laugh or get flustered.

In regards to your top surgery scars, he won't ask too many questions except for maybe did it hurt or how long it took to heal. If you ever feel uncomfortable about it or how they look, he'll smile gently before raising his own wife beater to show his aged body littered with scars, each one with stories from his younger days. Claims that you're both matching.

"They ain't somethin' to be worried about trust me." And he genuinely means it. He's not gonna pretend to know what you been through or force a story outta you. But just wants you to feel comfortable in your own skin, especially around him. Life is too short to be worrying unless you hear sirens.

He does like to kiss the scars or touch them. He likes how they feel under his fingertips.

He'll call you handsome, beefcake, cutie, or a shortened version of your name as terms of endearment. Wonders if it's appropriate to buy flowers for guys, too. He's a bit old school and might get you a bouquet of daises for the first date. If you do that for him, he'll nervously laugh and accept the flowers. If his eyes are watering no they're not.

On slow days, when it's just the two of you laying in bed, he likes to cuddle and caress your happy trail if you have one. If not, then he'll run his hands alongside your belly till he doses off.

nsft under the cut

He likes to top as it's something he's more used to and will gladly eat you out if asked. Enjoy when you wear more revealing outfits near him because his body will act like a hormonal teenager around you.

He's pretty good with his tongue and fingers, a bit on the rusty side, but enjoys hearing your moans when he slips his fingers inside your tight walls. He likes to edge you a lot since if he cums once it'll take longer for him to get it back up. His stubble when he leans in to kiss your neck during intercourse ironically makes you feel more sensitive.

Please sit on his face. He loves squeezing your ass a lot and smelling your natural musk right on his face, it drives him wild.

If you want him to use toys on you at first, he can't help be slightly offended. He ain't good enough for you? But you reassure him that it's a good way to spice up the night and help when he needs a break. He doesn't mind plunging dildos inside of you every now and then after that convincing argument, plus it's fun to push your limits with permission.

Pegging him, fingering him? It'll be a very long time before you can convince him to bottom for you or just try new things. It's unfamiliar territory but maybe you coax him just enough with a blowjob and a lot of explaining then maybe just maybe you'll be greeted with the view of a nearly knocked out Stan painted with his own cum, with your strap on deep inside his ass.

[vapekingg]

Last date

Eddie x Fem!Reader

Angst/hurt (no comfort)

Tags - divorce, successful Corroded Coffin, rockstar!Eddie

“We didn’t have to make a whole thing out of this, you know.” You unravel the silverware that’s folded up in front of you and lay the napkin that concealed them in your lap.

The Liberty Bistro, just outside of Hawkins.

You and Eddie used to treat yourselves to Liberty once in a blue moon, back when everything was so simple. He’d make a big sell or you’d pick up an extra shift at the record shop. That was back when all of your money went to rent, beer and weed. The only groceries you could afford to keep stocked were cans of ravioli and milk. Your apartment was just a little one bedroom. It was nothing compared to a glamorous tour bus or hotel rooms, but it was cozy. It was comfortable.

It was home.

That was years ago. And The Liberty Bistro hasn’t changed. It’s still a quiet little steakhouse with candles on every table. Everyone speaks in hushed tones and ambient classical music plays quietly in the background.

Everything else has changed though.

“I wanted to make a thing out of this,” Eddie says from across the table. “You deserve it. We deserve it.”

He smiles with the inflection of his words, but you can see the hurt in his dark eyes.

Eyes as dark as a lake at night, you used to get lost in them back in that little apartment. Liberty’s would take the very last of your money, not a dime left to your name, and never can you remember feeling so rich.

Eddie looks older now. He is older, you both are. You still remember him as the boyish nerd you’d fallen for when you were seventeen though, how his smile lines wrinkled when he finally asked you out and you agreed without hesitation. Everyone else sees him as someone else. A sex symbol. Hollywood’s newest rock and roll god.

You shift your eyes to the bottle of wine that’s sitting on ice at the edge of the table. Anything to avoid seeing his hurt. This was a mutual decision, after all.

Eddie clears his throat.

“Did you bring the, uh…” He waves his finger before bringing it to his mouth. An old nervous habit that you’ve been on him about for years.

The divorce papers.

You reach for them in your bag and lay them out on the table. There’s about a hundred pages here, his lawyers had insisted on it and yours a had argued with you to fight for alimony.

You didn’t want alimony. You wanted your husband.

That stack of papers sits between the two of you like an omen. It was easier to get married. The decision to get divorced didn’t come as naturally.

Eddie’s eyes hold yours for a moment, finally breaking with his resolve to glance at the end of your affair. You see the crinkle of his chin, how his bottom lip is a little red and wet from being chewed on. If only you could comfort him this time, too.

“Baby…” his voice breaks, even in a whisper.

“Eddie.” You whisper back more firmly, tears stinging your eyes now.

To be quite honest, you’re tired.

Tired of fighting the press and the record label. Tired of traveling. Tired of being alone.

You find a pen at the bottom of your bag and set it atop the stack. It doesn’t need to be that big. It’s just one signature. He purses his lips and bites back tears, but you can see them in the clench of his jaw. The flex of the veins in his neck. Eddie quiets the demons screaming at him to give it all up, to tell his managers to fuck off and stay here in Hawkins with you, and instead grabs the pen.

He signs his name across from yours. The end of your marriage.

You look up, expecting time to have turned back somehow. You wish you were still twenty years old and eloping with Eddie to the courthouse. Instead his eyes are heavier, partially because of you. Eddie is older. His hair is a little thicker and his stubble scratches your face now, or at least it did. It will the next girl. He’s on the peak of greatness, and at one point you thought you wanted to stand on that summit with him.

Now, you just want to heal. And you want him to heal, too.

“Well I guess that’s that.” You finally say.

And Eddie smiles. For your comfort, you can tell.

“That’s that.”

Hi! Just letting you all know that my requests are open for Eddie, Steve, Robin, Hopper, Billy, and Rick Sanchez. Prompt me, folks.

[tikosblogg]

The Scars We Bare….❤️

Summary: After a traumatic accident leaving your body scarred for life, Noah makes it his mission to remind you of your worth.

Warning: piv sex, unprotected sex(don’t do that), slight choking. Body worship?, mentions of blood, fighting. Let me know if I forgot anything.

A/N: This is a little heavier than I usually write about, but I thought it was so sweet. I’m sorry if it’s trash, I wrote this while watching Summer slam🤪

The energy inside our house was insane, the house pulsing with the music and the laughter of friends. the ambiance was alive—a perfect backdrop to celebrate the end of their successful tour. I had always been the glue that held this ragtag bunch together. Growing up alongside Noah, and the guys meant our lives were intertwined in a way that made this party feel like a reunion of sorts, no matter how long we’ve lived together or how often we saw each other while they are on the road.

As I mingled among partygoers, I felt an undeniable sense of pride for these guys who had worked so hard, now basking in the glow of their accomplishments. But tonight wasn’t just about them; it was about me too. I had hopes of taking my relationship with Brent to the next level.

Brent is the first relationship I’ve had since my accident 4 years ago. We have been seeing one another for about a month, and in my gut, I felt tonight could be the night we solidified what we both wanted. Nobody has seen my body since that traumatic day, except for Noah. My family lives out of state, so as soon as I was released from the hospital Noah moved me in here.

He was my rock during the whole ordeal and helped me heal. Our friendship is a special one, that I hold dearly in my heart. He bathed me, cooked for me, cleaned the cuts and incisions on my body everyday. He was the shoulder I cried on, about my insecurities of my forever changed body. Always reminding me that I was beautiful. He has helped more than I think he realizes.

Excusing myself from a lively conversation with Noah and Jolly, I slipped outside to check on Brent. The cool air hit my skin, refreshing yet a little uneasy. I dialed his number, only to be met with an annoyance I couldn’t quite place. "I've been here for the past 45 minutes," he huffed, the edge in his voice making me flinch.

My stomach twisted as he gave me his location. I ended the call, worry gnawing at the edges of my mind. What had gone wrong? He’s never sounded so annoyed with me. I shook it off and decided to find him, determined not to let it ruin our night.

When I finally spotted him, leaning against the wall of the house with his arms crossed and an unimpressed look on his face, my heart sank. Why did he look so displeased? I swept in for a hug, wrapping my arms around his body, hoping to draw out a little warmth. He hesitated for just a moment before returning the embrace, but the spark I had anticipated was absent.

"Hey! Glad you made it," I chirped, forcing a smile even as a twinge of frustration bubbled within me. He didn't reply, only allowed me to grab his hand and lead him inside.

As we entered, I could feel the vibrant energy shift slightly. The laughter and chatter continued, but the warmth of the party felt overshadowed by the tension emanating from Brent. I introduced him to the guys Noah, Jolly, Folio, and Nick—all of whom were mingling and laughing, filling the air with their unique energy. However, I noticed something peculiar: the way the guys eyed Brent, especially Noah. There was a hint of concern in his gaze, the kind that screamed, I’m onto you.

Ignoring the unspoken judgment from my friends, I pulled Brent closer, trying to ignite that spark between us. We stood there, surrounded by music and laughter, yet he seemed distant, his smile faltering as the guys began to chatter amongst themselves.

“Everything alright?” I whispered, leaning closer to him. I wanted an opening, a doorway into whatever was bothering him. But he merely shrugged, his gaze wandering, refusing to engage. I softly grasped Brent’s hand, politely excusing us from the group. I led him through the crowd of party goers, and up the stairs to my room.

As I closed the door behind us, the thumping bass of the party dwindled into a distant murmur, the laughter of friends fading away as I turned to Brent. The vibrant energy of the gathering felt worlds away, and the four walls of my bedroom suddenly wrapped around us like a protective barrier.

“Brent,” I started, my voice wavering slightly. “I’m really sorry if I overwhelmed you back there. I just wanted you to meet my friends. They’re like family to me.” I stepped closer, finding comfort in the small space between us. “I like how you’re different from everyone else,” I reassured him, reaching to cup his face. “I want you with me, Brent. I really like you, and I was hoping tonight could be something more.”

At last, he looked up, a smirk playing on his lips as he wasted no more time, and leaned in and captured my mouth with his. The kiss ignited something deep inside me; I melted into him, the world beyond my bedroom eclipsed in a frenzy of sensation. But then, as he pushed me down onto the bed, his body pressing into mine, I felt a rush of vulnerability sweep over me.

His lips were a warm trail, moving from my mouth and down the length of my neck. Nervousness coiled in my stomach, mingling with the thrill of it all. What if he hates the scars? But I shushed that voice; if Brent liked me, he would accept all of me, flaws and histories included.

When he finally pulled away, his eyes dark with desire, he removed his shirt, revealing his toned body. I felt my pulse quicken. The intimacy of the moment escalated as he reached for mine. But then, as the fabric glided off my skin, a sudden silence enveloped us. Brent froze, his expression shifting from desire to something unreadable as his eyes traced the long scar running down my chest, then mapping the smaller scars scattered along my ribs and stomach.

“Are you okay?” I paused, my heart pounding painfully against my rib cage as I reached up, uncertain and vulnerable.

The moment hung heavy in the air; he shook his head vehemently, climbing off me so quickly that the sudden loss of his warmth sent a chill racing down my spine. I sat up, confusion flooding my senses. “What’s wrong? Did I do something?”

Brent stood there, the remnants of our intimacy dissolving between us. He tugged his shirt back on, the fabric crumpling around his torso, and ran a hand through his hair, the gesture laced with frustration. “Why do you have scars all over you?” His voice was low, a mix of concern and discomfort.

As the words spilled from my lips, the weight of the memory resurfaced. “I was in a bad car crash four years ago. I had to have open heart surgery,” I explained, trying to keep my tone steady. I watched the color drain from his face, his brows knitting together in discomfort.

A long sigh escaped him, heavy and laden with an emotion I couldn’t quite decipher. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. “But that’s...bad. I didn’t expect…” He trailed off, shaking his head again as if trying to clear it.

“It makes me feel… kind of squeamish to touch them” he admitted, his eyes glancing away, avoiding the testament of my past etched upon my skin.

My heart plummeted, the weight of rejection crashing down upon me like a tidal wave. I had let the hope and excitement build, only for it to crumble in an instant under the realization that my trauma had repelled him.

“I think we should just end it here. sorry,” he added, almost mechanically, before turning to leave the room. The sound of the party resumed its vibrancy, a stark reminder of the dissonance between our worlds.

I watched him walk out, feeling an emptiness settle into my chest. The door slammed behind him, and I sank back into the bed, wrapping my arms around myself as if trying to shield those scars from the world. Noah, My friends, my family—they had embraced me, scars and all. Why couldn’t Brent?

I lay there, staring at the ceiling, feeling the weight of his words pressing down on me. My thoughts spiraled, wondering if my scars were always going to be a barrier, a reminder of a past I couldn’t erase. The party continued downstairs, but all I felt was the silence of my room enveloping me, a somber echo of what had just transpired.

I finally stood from my bed, my body shaking with each sob leaving my mouth. I walked straight into my bathroom, insistent on washing his touch, and this night from my tattered body.

Noah stood with Jolly and Nick, their voices a distant murmur, but his attention had drifted. His eyes were locked on the staircase that you’d just walked up with Brent. There was something about Brent—a way he carried himself, a cocky swagger that made his skin crawl. He didn’t like the guy, not one bit.

Fifteen minutes later, Noah’s unease was proven justified. Brent stomped down the stairs, his expression unfazed and arrogant. He brushed past Noah and the others, heading straight for the kitchen. Noah tilted his head, a knot tightening in his stomach. Where were you? He silently decided to confront Brent.

As he stepped into the kitchen, Noah maneuvered himself silently, standing a few steps behind Brent’s shorter stature. He was leaning against the counter, deep in conversation with some random dude whose name Noah didn’t care to know. Eavesdropping came naturally to him; he would justify anything if it meant looking out for you.

His heart raced when Brent’s laughter cut through the air. “Yeah, I was about to get laid,” he sneered, “until I saw her mangled scars. who the fuck would want to touch that?”

The breath in Noah’s lungs turned hot and escaped his body, choking him as Brent's words sank in. His fists clenched tightly, and he felt the world around him shatter. He could almost hear your voice, the way you’d always brushed off your past with a smile, how brave you were in the face of your demons. But Brent—he had the audacity to belittle you. That was it. Brent had fucked up.

Suddenly, the current conversation shifted; the guy noticed Noah standing there, confusion flickering across his face. It alerted Brent, and he turned around, the mocking grin fading as he saw the fury etched on Noah’s features.

“What’s your problem, man?” Brent started, but Noah didn’t give him a chance to finish. With swift motion, Noah reared back and swung, his fist connecting hard with Brent’s face. The impact sent Brent flying backward, crashing against the counter, glass bottles tumbling to the ground in a cacophony of shattering chaos.

Loud gasps erupted from the partygoers outside the kitchen, a wave of shock sweeping through the crowd. Brent scrambled to his feet, wiping blood from his lip, rage igniting his eyes. But it was too late to back down. Noah launched himself at Brent, tackling him to the ground, a flurry of punches raining down on him, fueled by the anger and pain he felt for you.

“Get off me, you psycho!” Brent shouted, trying to push Noah away. The struggle was chaotic, a whirlwind of flailing limbs and outrage. Just as Noah readied another blow, Jolly charged in, pulling Noah back with surprising strength.

“Noah, stop!” Jolly shouted, his grip firm as he held Noah at bay. “What happened!”

Noah was seething, panting heavily as he glared down at Brent, who was trying to push himself back up, shaking with anger and disbelief. “Get the fuck out of my house,” Noah growled, his voice low and menacing.

Brent’s eyes widened, the cockiness draining from his face. He looked around, seeing the eyes of the few witnesses, the trepidation in Jolly’s grip, and the fire behind Noah’s glare.

With a rage still shimmering in his veins, Brent muttered something under his breath, stumbling out of the kitchen and pushing past a few confused guests. As the tension dissipated, the music seemed to swell once again, an unsettling backdrop to the upheaval that had just occurred.

Noah, freed from Jolly’s hold, took a moment to catch his breath, the adrenaline of the fight slowly beginning to wane, replaced by a deep concern for you. He didn’t care what anyone else thought of the scene he just created; all he could think of was you and how he could protect you from people like Brent. The real battle would be making sure you knew how much you were worth, scars and all.

The steam curled and twisted upwards like tendrils of a ghost, enveloping me in a cocoon of warmth and moisture, yet I felt anything but comforted. My sobs echoed against the bathroom tiles, reverberating with the music of the party that throbbed beneath me. Laughter and music pulsed through the floorboards, but they were alien sounds in this moment, distant and muffled, a reminder of a world I felt unfit to join.

With trembling hands, I wiped my tears away, attempting to compose myself. “Y/n?” A soft voice echoed through the bathroom, as my breath hitched. “I’m fine,” I called out weakly, trying to sound more convincing than I felt, but the tremor in my voice betrayed me. Just as I braced for another wave of tears, the shower door opened and Noah stepped in.

his clothes still on, clinging to him like a second skin. His arms wrapped around me, and I melted against him, the warmth radiating from his body bringing some semblance of solace. I could feel the steady beat of his heart through the fabric of his shirt. The gentle thump soothed me as I softly cried into his chest, his hand combing through my damp hair, as if he could weave away my pain with each passing stroke.

It took a moment to gather my composure, but when I finally pulled back to look at him, I noticed the water swirling around our feet, tinted a soft pink. Panic flared within me as I glanced down at his hands, noticing the cuts marring his knuckles. “Noah, what happened?” My heart raced at the thought of him getting hurt.

His response was almost too casual, a hint of bravado underneath the weight of his words. “I beat Brent’s fucking ass.” The smile that flickered onto my face was unexpected, born from a blend of relief and admiration. I laid my forehead against him, the warmth of his body a protective barrier against the world below.

Noah was gentle, taking the shampoo from the rack and lathering it into my hair, his fingertips pressing against my scalp in a way that felt simultaneously tender and powerful. I closed my eyes, surrendering to the comfort of his presence, letting him wash away not just the remnants of the night, but the anguish that had been clawing at my heart.

He grabbed my loofah, and bodywash, bathing me next. Sending me back 4 years ago, when he did this for me everyday. Once the water turned off, he wrapped a towel around me, the fabric covering me in warmth as he stripped off his wet clothes, every inch of my cheeks heating more at the sight. He returned, focused, practical, and somehow that made my heart swell. Lifting me effortlessly onto the counter, he took the cotton pad and my makeup remover, carefully cleaning away the smudged remnants of the night while stealing glances at me, gauging my reactions.

The simplicity of his gestures, the kindness radiating from each one, made my insides flutter. He was mending not just the mess on my face but the turmoil inside me too. When he disappeared momentarily and returned with one of his old t-shirts and a pair of my underwear, I felt a warmth. He pressed the towel into my skin, drying me off with an intense focus that made me feel seen, cherished.

He pulled the tshirt over my head, before slipping my underwear up my legs. I carefully lifted my hips from the counter, so he could pull them up over my hips. The deep scary feelings I’ve tried to bury for the past few years, slowly making their appearance.

Once I was dressed, he took my hairbrush and began to detangle my hair with the ease, each stroke a reminder of how he understood me, how he always knew how to take care of me when the world felt too heavy. I watched him in the mirror—his brow furrowed with concentration, his lips pressed together in determination.

“Thank you,” I whispered, my voice softer than the droplets of water still clinging to the tiles. He met my gaze, kindness dancing in his eyes.

“No need,” he replied with a lopsided grin. “I’ll always be here for you.” The thudding of my heart, beat wildly against my chest. Our eyes stuck in a heated stare down, waiting to see which of caved first. His hand slowly lifted to cup my cheek. His thumb softly rubbed against my cheek, as he leaned in the tiniest bit closer.

“Noah..” I breathed, my voice just above a whisper. The uncertainty that once filled his brown eyes, were now gone. Filled with a darkness, that I was more than ready to fall into. His lips finally connected to mine in a simple kiss. Almost as if testing the waters.

He pulled away for only a moment, before his other hand slob into my hair, pulling me in for another kiss. He didn’t hold back, as he squeezed himself between my thighs, attacking my lips with so much force. His tongue entered my mouth, as he groaned at the taste of me.

I whimpered against his lips, wanting, needing more of him. He pulled away again, resting his forehead against mine as we both panted. “I love you so fucking much y/n, and I’m tired of fighting it.” He shook his head, before pecking my lips again.

I smiled, wrapping my arms around his naked waist pulling him flush against me. “I love you too Noah.” I smiled softly up at him. He grabbed my thighs, wrapping them around him, before lifting me off the counter, and walking us over the threshold back into my room.

He softly dropped me onto the bed, as grabbed him hand pulling him on top of me. I grabbed the towel still wrapped around him, and pulled it loose. He smirked down at me, before reaching up and pushing my hair off my face. “Are you sure about this?”

My eyes flew back up to his before I nodded my head. “I’m positive Noah….please.” Without another word, he leaned down catching my lips into another kiss. As he kissed me, his hand trailed up my thigh, pushing it back and spreading me open.

His tongue slid in my mouth, as his fingers carefully moved my panties over before sinking two of them into me. I moaned against his mouth, as he pulled away smiling. “You sound so pretty baby.” His voice was low, and rough. I whimpered, as I softly bucked my hips into it.

After a few more thrusts he pulled his fingers out, sticking them in his mouth pulling them out with a groan. “And you taste even better.” He lifted himself off of me, grabbing the hem of my shirt.

He slowly pulled it off as I laid underneath him, a rush of warmth and trepidation surging through me. The lamp light in my room, casted a golden hue on everything in the room. It felt as if the world outside had ceased to exist—a serene bubble where only the two of us resided.

Even though Noah had seen my scars a million times before, an insidious wave of insecurity washed over me. As his gaze drifted over the pink lines that traced my skin, I couldn’t help but hold my breath.

A shaky exhale escaped my lips, a reflection of my nerves. Noah, always attuned to my feelings, noticed immediately. His eyes softened, filled with a understanding that spoke volumes. He leaned down, and before I could fully process what was happening, I felt the warmth of his tongue glide along the long scar that ran down my chest between my breasts. An unexpected jolt of pleasure coursed through me, mingled with vulnerability.

He continued his descent, his lips softly placing tender kisses upon each of my scars. With every touch, he seemed to dissolve the doubts that gnawed at the edges of my mind. I could feel each light brush of his lips, each gentle kiss, healing parts of me I thought were beyond repair.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered against my skin, his voice barely above a breath. The words lingered in the air, wrapping around my heart like a soothing balm. It surprised me how true they felt, even after what happened tonight. He looked up, deep into my eyes, his sincerity gleaming like a beacon in the dim lighting.

My pulse raced, and from deep within me, the knots of self-doubt began to unravel. Noah had a way of making me feel seen, as if he could peer into my soul and appreciate every scar etched into it. Each imperfection, every faint line was an emblem of survival, milestones of resilience—but in that moment, they felt less like burdens and more like beautiful parts of my story.

He returned to my lips, kissing me softly, allowing the heat and intimacy of our connection to wash over us. I melted into him, giving in to the moment, and for the first time, I felt as if I could shed my insecurities, if only for a while.

He grabbed the sides of my underwear, pulling them off. He laid back onto me before kissing me hotly, and taking no time to slowly push into me. I gasped, digging my nails into his back at the burning stretch. He grabbed my jaw softly bringing my eyes to his. “Are you okay baby?”

I nodded, lifting my head to kiss his lips. I softly bit on his bottom lip, pulling on it softly. He grunted, as his hips roughly snapped against mine. “Please Noah…” I whined, pulling him into me. He lifted up, caging my head in between his arms. He stared down at me, as he pounded into me mercilessly.

“Fuck baby you feel so good” he groaned, above me. The pleasure on his face made me feral. I dug my heel into the mattress, using all my force to flip our bodies over. His eyes widened in shock, as huge grin formed on his lips. “Fuck baby, you gonna ride me?” He almost whimpered.

My pussy throbbed at his words. Having my big tatted mainly best friend whimpering underneath was not something I ever imagined, but am so fucking lucky to experience. I leaned down, trailing kisses down his throat while he groaned. I leaned back up, grabbing his dick, and hovering back over it.

We both let out low groans, as I sank back down. “Fuck Noah you’re so big.” I whined, slowly rocking my hips back forth. “Yeah?” He breathed, gripping my hips tightly. I nodded my head, placing my hands against his chest.

He groaned at my sluggish pace, as I smirked down at him, enjoying my teasing game. After a few minutes, he was done with my teasing. His hand shot up, wrapping around my throat. He pulled me down until our noses were touching, as a cocky smile made its way to his face.

“You really thought I was gonna let you take control?” He growled, brushing his lips against mine. “I-..” my sentence was cut short, as his hips fucked up into me hard and fast. My nails dug into his chest, gripping on for dear life.

His fingers tightened around my throat as he finally connected our lips into a sloppy kiss. Lips, tongues, and teeth clashing. He pushed me back, making me sit up straight on top of him. He reached up, shoving two fingers in my mouth, as I moaned around them, sucking on them hard.

He slowly slid them out, running them down my throat, down my chest and stopping to squeeze my tit. “C’mon baby. You gonna cum for me?” He panted, continuing his decent until his fingers reached my swollen clit.

I threw my head back with a moan, in love with how he was making me feel. I leaned back, placing my hands right above his knees behind me, as I continued riding him. “Fuuuuck…” I groaned as his fingers sped up.

I felt my orgasm rising with each thrust of his hips, and stroke of his fingers. “I’m gonna cum.” I whined, looking down at him. The sight was beautiful. His brows were furrowed, and his lips were parted, as he released ragged breaths.

“C’mon baby give it to me. Cum on my dick.” He groaned finally looking up at me. As soon as we made eye contact, my orgasm shook my body. “Good fucking girl.” He grunted, as he fucked me through it. I huffed, falling onto his chest as thrusted a few more times finally releasing into me with a groan.

We laid there for what felt like hours, catching our breaths just holding each other. He placed a kiss on top of my head, before gently pushing me off onto the bed beside him. He reached down grabbing the towel he wore earlier, and cleaned us off.

Once we were clean he grabbed my comforter, pulling it over us. He pulled me into his arms, as I snuggled deep into his chest. “I love you so much y/n. You’re the most beautiful person I have ever laid my eyes on. I will spend every minute proving that to you from now on. Please don’t let some dick head make you think differently.”

I felt my eyes well up with tears again, as I placed a gentle kiss to the middle of his chest. “I love you.”

[works-of-heart]

I am genuinely curious why some believe that Elain going to Day court or even ending up there means that Helion dies, or that eluciens want Helion to die? Yes Lucien is an eventual heir, but that doesn't mean we're rooting for it to happen in the next book, or at all. I know quite a few eluciens who are happy with Elain and Lucien just traveling together, anywhere they are is home. Others love the idea of them finding a home in spring or day court, too.

This idea that Elain going to spring/day somehow undermines her character development is so silly to me. Day court has vast libraries, and sjm writes it as a place of knowledge. Elain has said she wants to train her powers, and she's had 2 years to do so and has not had any means of training in the NC. Add to that, everyone, minus Amren, seems to think Elain shouldn't be exposed to darkness and refrain from doing anything dangerous. Even Elain says herself:

“Shall I tend to my little garden forever?” When Nesta flinched, Elain said, “You can't have it both ways. You cannot resent my decision to lead a small, quiet life while also refusing to let me do anything greater.”

The thought Eluciens want Elain to not have growth is just vastly untrue. We're told Elain was made for spring, she has a different kind of strength, she wanted to tour the world and see the tulip fields. We notice the stark difference from wearing Night Court black which sucks the life out of her, vs. Wearing an Amythest gown that makes her glow with good health (Amethyst being a color We've seen in Day court, which the people there also glowed with good health). We've always wanted her to go back to her pre-trauma self and see her grow.

Many Eluciens are excited to see her step out of the Nightcourt, which she hasn't been able to grow and stifles her, and to see her in places where she can thrive and develop!

Luckily, SJM has told us that, without spoiling anything, Elain's story will have both healing and growth for her along side her mate! It's the kind of development all her FMCs get and I for one am truly excited to see it come to fruition.

I just find it crazy that people say we're the ones who don't want her growth when others claim she's perfectly fine and healed where she is now, and doesn't need to adventure outside of the Nightcourt.

[so-idialed-9]

The things Liam carried

Liam carried a pleading to not be misunderstood, to be perceived in the right way, the way he intended. He carried the crushing responsibility of the band acting like a REAL band, being on time and groomed and generally on talking points and practicing hard, and the harm of parentification among those who should have been his peers. He carried deep love for all the boys and a soul bond with Zayn, always.

He carried a deep, terrified drive not to be told he is too young or not quite good enough ever, ever again. That tide was out and that could not be allowed to come again. But the sea returned, every time, relentlessly and without regard.

He carried a well of mischief and joy it took "his boys" 1D to tap into.

He carried PowerAde bottles to have a moment of pure bliss and joyful chaos on stage with his best friend, Louis. And he carried that memory home and framed it in a photo and looked at it every day in his bedroom and smile and talk about his best friend, even if Louis didn't call as much anymore. Liam was still waiting.

He carried a tendency to punish himself when he was in the darkness instead of finding a light. Not just drinking, but surrounding himself with the worst people - managers who beat him, labels who sent him on crap venues for tour, labels who pulled his album that he'd cried over to make, dudebro promoters and podcasters who wanted to spend him like cheap currency....and Simon Cowell. And a fame whore "ex" who, no matter which version you believe, still comes out as a person who lied for social media clout, heard him say he would likely die and laughed at him, who faked her own engagement buying an engagement ring for her social media, giving absolute record level of cringe, and used Liam's name to sell her stalled books.

Did he know know who he deserved? Did he not know how to get that? Did he just believe, "Well, they can't be THAT awful"?

He was a beam of sunshine overlaying a secret Batman, ripping out his own heart to feed fires. His light illuminates all around him, he was always feeding fans and caring, always sharing his art and therapy and sobriety and precious stories from 1D he could have hoarded and made a book about but instead gave them away with love to create even more love.

If this were the TV show Lucifer, he'd obviously be Lucifer, an angel of light, a favorite son, who is cast out of heaven by what he thought loved him, and trying to find a new way of being after losing so much, who has to go on a journey to find his purpose.

He was a man who almost had it figured out - from black and white - getting to film that TV show where he was helping put together and mentor boy bands was going to be so healing for him. The confidence he never got to pick up!

I believe 1D were starting to reunite - Harry's incessant touristy behavior then disappearing like he said he would, Louis' saying he needs time off to "let life in," Niall abruptly disappearing saying "you won't see me anymore for a long time." It could have given back Liam his friends, his network, his brothers, if only he could have survived long enough.

There is always something better around the corner. I would give anything for Liam James Payne to have the chance, just once more, to believe that.

[thegayloragenda]

Okay I want to put all of my current predictions out here (these are subject to change, of course):

• I think this show is going to get a little more colorful or a little bit more gay with each show because I think she’s running out the clock.

• I am CLOWNING for an eventual pronoun change during surprise songs.

• I think Karlie will probably show up again. And if she shows up for the rep announcement I will die dead.

• I’m also clowning for a rainbow variation of every outfit or perhaps a debutation variation if she plans to drop them together. Maybe a karma outfit. Idk. I don’t really know what is coming next in regard to music or if there will be anything (what if she just went black out for a year and then dropped rep next December 😂).

• I’m split because I think she’s either going to continue this Travis stunt until the Super Bowl or she’ll break up with him while on tour (if it’s real that’s totally fine but the way this relationship has been crammed down our throats gives me the ick so bad). I have no idea how that breakup will go down especially since they’ve made an entire Christmas movie about this relationship.

• I’m still assuming we’ll get a proposal / breakup.

Overall, I don’t think Taylor Swift would pander to this side of the fandom the way she has if she didn’t have a plan to blow everything up. I assume she’s a good person. I assume she’s supportive of the fans who see her. I’ve been in this fandom long enough to know what it looks like when she’s in the closet and when she isn’t. The closet isn’t even glass anymore. The closet is just invisible at this point so if she’s just a straight girl who loves rainbows, she’s absolutely diabolical in the very worst ways.

And before anyone comes for me, yes she can be bi or pan or whatever she wants to be. I don’t care about muses or labels. I notice patterns and I can’t help but connect the dots. I see bi and lesbian dresses and her calling attention to them so that’s where my focus is. I care about freedom for her (whatever that looks like) and I also think some clarity about who she actually is will help a lot of us decide if we want to keep supporting her and giving her our money. I’m placing my bet on her being who I think she is so I’m here to support her until the end of this roller coaster ride.

I will make a post on the final day of this tour but I just want to say this: I have had the TIME OF MY LIFE in this labyrinth. I have made lifelong friends because of this side of the fandom. Thank you to ALL of my friends on here who have followed me and commented on my posts and said such kind things. Thank you to everyone who has messaged me their insights and theories. And finally, thank you to my fans who have messaged me your homophobic, brain-rotted hate comments. Good luck in the aftermath!

And to Taylor (if you ever see this), thank you for keeping my mind so stimulated. I will probably never get dementia because of you. You have been so good for my brain health. Thank you for teaching me about my own history as a queer girlie. Thank you for helping me heal my relationship with my neurodivergent self. Thank you for being the “mother” who saw me when my own mother just talks about how gross and wrong gay people are. Thank you for being kind and strong and brave in the face of shame and fear and danger. Thank you for leading a revolution of New Romantics! No one does it like you, girl. I love you so much. I hope you got a giggle over the chaos and the wrong predictions. I hope this tour brought you joy and hope and peace and healing. I know I haven’t always seen eye to eye with some of your choices, but I do respect you and I do hope the rest of your life is sunshine and rainbows and you get to hug your mom forever and take really long naps with your person after all of this is over. Long live 💜

Update: I do think the election plays a big role in how loud she can be. @casuallycruel131313 pointed this out, too. We’ll get way more once Kamala has been elected! I think Canada shows will be wildddd.

[welikeimagines-andfandoms]

Tongue Piercing- Legolas x Alternative!Reader

Summary: Legolas is very interested in readers tongue piercing. They show him what it feels like

Word Count: 1, 262

The portraits that adorned the walls of the Mirkwood library could only be described as perfection. Legolas had wanted to show you all of his home, and had spent the past few hours walking with you and talking about its history and beauties.

As you walk along, viewing the regal art, you discover one that looks like your elvish tour guide.

“Legolas is this one you?” You ask smirking at the handsome elf.

“Um well, yes, yes that’s me. I didn’t have many portraits as a child, so last spring my father wanted a more important looking portrait done of me.” He explains bashfully.

Though Legolas was a prince and warrior, he could tend to get quite flustered when his status was mentioned. Legolas was quite a humble prince and he didn’t really like to be fawned over.

Looking up at the large portrait, you couldn’t help but marvel, not just at the quality of the art, but how the painting captured Legolas’ beauty; a beauty that was both strong and sweet. Taking in the art for so long, you began to become so enthralled that you hadn’t noticed you’d been playing with your tongue piercing, flicking it up and down and lightly running it through your mouth.

In your world, piercings weren’t all that odd and people didn’t really think twice or react too amazed at them, but in this world they were an abnormality. Being so used to your piercings normality, you were confused to hear Legolas’ light gasp beside you. Turning your head from the portrait, you look over to see Legolas’ eyes wide in both wonder and concern.

“Legolas, what’s the matter?” You turn to your new friend, concern now etched into your face as you lightly take his hand and shoulder.

Looking into his eyes and seeing his own flicking down to your lips, you began to understand. Seeing his worried expression about something you considered so mundane, you couldn’t help but giggle a bit.

“It’s my piercing isn’t it?” You smirk up at him.

“Yes, well, you, you have many piercings on your face but-I-I was unaware of your tongue. I mean your face is pierced and your tongue is um…” Legolas began to ramble, obviously not quite sure what to say, his flustered state making you laugh again.

“Legolas, it’s okay. It’s a tongue piercing. I have piercings on my face and tongue because they’re jewellery that I like the style of. I know it’s not common here so I understand your worry. Where I’m from they’re quite common.” You explain calmly to him, both of your hands now soothingly intertwined with his.

“May, may I ask you a question?” He says timidly, his eyes meeting yours shyly.

“Of course, Legolas. You don’t have to worry about offending me.” You reassure him with a sweet smile and a squeeze of his hands.

“Well, how, how does it feel?” He quietly asked.

“To have done or how does it feel in my mouth?” You genuinely asked.

“Bo-both I suppose.”

“Well it obviously hurts because it’s something being stabbed through my flesh,” you laugh jokingly, “but the pain was relatively quick and the healing wasn’t too bad.” You reassured your new friend.

“A-and in your mouth? I mean um..” he awkwardly questioned.

With the cute blush that now covered his cheeks and his awkward wording, you couldn’t help but laugh at his flustered state.

Since the moment you laid eyes on Legolas, you found him extremely attractive. As you got to know him, you found yourself craving the way he blushed and the friendly touches you gave each other. You hadn’t really done anything to properly flirt with him yet, but the way he was blushing and staring at your mouth, you couldn’t help but take up the opportunity to play with the sweet prince.

“Would you like to feel?” You asked him, your voice now dropping seductively as you moved slightly closer to him, your chests now almost touching.

“Ye- I mean if yo- you’re comf..”

Cutting him off, you take one of his fingers in your hand as you bring it to your open mouth. Keeping your eyes locked on his, you begin to swirl his long finger along your tongue. He can’t help but stare at you with desperate eyes, as if begging for something more but not knowing fully what he needs.

Seeing that Legolas was definitely into the little game you were playing, you decide to close your mouth around his finger and suck up and down, putting on a provocative show for the young prince. Legolas can’t help but let his eyes flutter slightly and moan at the show before him.

Releasing his finger with an exaggerated pop, Legolas lets out a quiet breathy moan. Smirking and biting your lip at the prince, you place his hand on your waist as you lean in close to his ear.

“Would you like to know how it feels against other things, Legolas?” You whisper seductively, your tongue coming out to lick along his neck, as your hand lightly strokes his hardening bulge.

“Mmm, y/n, pl-please.” He pathetically moaned out, head dropping back slightly.

“Please what, Legolas? What do you need, sweet prince?” You continue to tease him, your pierced tongue making its way up his neck and over his jaw.

“I-I- I need to feel you! Please make me feel good.” His moans growing louder as you rubbed his bulge faster.

“What a good boy.” You smirk against his neck.

Grabbing onto the back of his head you crash your mouth against his in a heated kiss. As your tongue slipped into his mouth and began exploring his, he gasped out at feeling the cool metal in his mouth. Continuing your heated assault on his mouth, your hand begins to pull down his trousers, his cock springing free and bobbing.

Breaking the kiss, you rest your forehead against his as you begin to stroke his hard cock. Your light strokes cause him to let out a whining moan, loving the feeling of your touch but needing more. Smirking and staring into his desperate eyes, you push him against the wall and drop to your knees in front of him.

Continuing to rub his length, you lick up the underside of his tip, making sure to dig your piercing into the sensitive skin. The delicious sensation causing his eyes to close and his head to lightly thud against the wall.

“You ready, Legolas?” You ask him, staring up at him sweetly.

“Please…” he begs sweetly, looking down at you with pleading eyes.

Smirking up at him, you lick the underside of his cock once again, before taking his whole head in your mouth. Starting to suck lightly, you begin to work him further into your mouth. The sweet moans and gasps from the elf prince above you sounded like heaven, and it only made you work faster with your hand and lick and stuck him harder.

It didn’t take long of your talented and studded tongue working Legolas before he started to lightly grind into your mouth, whimpering how good it felt and how close he was. With a sweet and breathy moan, Legolas released into your mouth. Tasting him on your tongue, you swallowed everything he gave you. Taking him out of your mouth, saliva and a small amount of cum on your lips, you smirk up at him as you give him one last little lick with your stud on his head, a small last little whimper leaving his sweet parted lips.

[coffeeghoulie]

heaven's grief, hell's rain

or 2.5k about Aether's bracelet, Mountain's garden, and Dew's grucifix.

special thank you to @forlorn-crows for helping with the flowers, hope you enjoy <3

title from Just One Yesterday by Fall Out Boy

It's not a decision Aether makes lightly to stay behind. He's tired. He's been working doubles, between serving the band, the papacy, and serving in the infirmary. And, if he's honest, he thinks he's more useful at the Abbey, using his Lucifer-granted gifts to heal. He's always been taking care of his pack, he's good at what he does.

His pack takes it... well enough. Cirrus gracefully takes over his duties, leading the band pack as they get ready for this next tour, taking the two new summons under her wing. She takes his hand, kisses his cheek. Cumulus takes his face in her hands, presses their foreheads together, whispers that she's proud of him. Rain offers him a smile and a handshake, and Swiss kisses him between his horns and draws him into a tight hug. Sunny grins, bright like her namesake, happy someone else from the band pack is staying behind with her.

His mates, on the other hand? He can count on the claws of one hand the number of times he's ever seen Mountain cry. Dew's hands curl into fists, so tight he can smell the blood where his claws pierce his palms.

Dew storms out, the ends of his hair flickering with flame, smoke billowing from his nostrils. He hasn't been this out of control of his element since those first early days, after they knew he was going to survive the transition, barely out of the woods. Mountain follows, his steps uncharacteristically loud. Dew slams the door to his own room shut, and Mountain flees to his greenhouse.

Aether wishes that he could split himself in two, standing there, struck dumb as his mates turn their back on him. He honestly can't blame them. He fidgets with his bracelet, running his fingers along the silver chain, torn between two directions.

He goes to Dew first. Fire is far more volatile than earth, and he was Dew's before Mountain was summoned and joined their pack.

The door, surprisingly, is unlocked. It's dark, curtains drawn tight, and there's a Dew-sized lump underneath the covers. It's dusty in here, Dew spending most of his nights in Aether's oversized bed, big enough for three ghouls.

"Dew? Darling?" Aether breathes, the tension so thick he can almost taste it, the sulfur smoke scent of Dew's distress heavy on his tongue.

Dew sits up, copper eyes shining in the dark. "What are you doing here?"

Aether furrows his brow. "Checking on you, Dewey."

The fire ghoul shakes his head, covering his face with his hands as his shoulders shake. With silent laughter or tears, Aether can't quite tell. "You should have gone to Mount, Aether. I've never seen Juniper that angry."

"Dewey, I'm here," Aether breathes, taking a hesitant step towards the bed. "I'll go to Mounty, but I know you're upset too. Please."

Dew growls under his breath, grumbling as he shifts on the bed. "Don't want to lose you, Aeth," he whispers, pulling the blankets tighter around himself. He clutches the silver grucifix he always wears so tightly his already pale knuckles go white.

"You're not," Aether promises, sitting down next to his mate. He goes to wrap his arm around Dew's waist, but hesitates. "Satanas help me, Dewdrop, you will not lose me."

Dew sniffles, swallowing with a click as he grabs Aether's wrist, starts playing with the silver bracelet. He counts the links like a rosary, rotating the slightly-too-loose jewelry around Aether's wrist, lips moving in a silent prayer. "You promise?" Dew asks, voice small, not tearing his eyes away from the bracelet. Aether doesn't have to pry with his quintessence to know who he's thinking of. He's thinking of them too.

"Cross my heart," Aether says, letting Dew trace his claws along the lines of his palm.

They sit there in silence, Aether pulling Dew carefully against his side, even though the fire ghoul hasn't been fragile in a long time. "Dew," Aether breathes. "I love you so much, you know?"

Dew hums, his broken tail wrapped tight around his own thigh. "I know."

Another long lull of silence. The tension not quite broken. He pulls Dew closer, turns and presses a kiss to the sharp edge of his obsidian horn.

"Go to Mount," Dew breathes after a while. "Junie needs to hear this too."

Aether nods, pressing another kiss to Dew's cheekbone. "I love you, darling. Nothing's gonna change that."

"Love you too," Dew whispers as Aether opens the door. He smiles at his mate, slipping out of his room and heading to the outside door.

It's a long walk down to Mountain's greenhouse, the glass building nestled right at the edge of the forest surrounding the Abbey. The heavy glass door is unlocked, much to Aether's surprise, and he pushes it open slowly, the old hinges creaking as it swings inward.

Mountain doesn't turn to face him when he enters the greenhouse. He plucks the baby spider plants from their vines, moving the seedlings to smaller pots.

"Sweet thing," Aether breathes, watching the way Mountain's back stiffens. He feels his heart clench as he sees the thorny vines wrapped tight around the base of Mountain's antlers.

"Aether," Mountain says, voice even and bitten back.

"Mount, please," Aether says, taking another step towards his earth ghoul.

"You didn't talk to any of us before making this decision, even though you know it affects all of us," Mountain says, still not turning back to face him. The shears snip, metal on metal, and Aether winces.

"I'm sorry, Mount. I knew-"

"You knew what?" Mountain says, and the worst thing is that there's no anger in his tone. Just cold, still, evenness. "That if we knew that you were gonna stop touring, we'd stay behind too?"

Aether squeezes his eyes shut. They sting in the humid air, or are those just tears? He can't really tell.

"Do you mean to tell me, Aether, that you don't remember what the clergy did to Ifrit when he said no? What they did to Omega, your fucking predecessor? What they did to Zeph?" Mountain's voice cracks, fingers ghosting over a silver striped leaf, the entire vine trembling under his touch.

Aether takes a long breath. The silence is thick, never mind the humidity. "That's why I didn't tell you. I thought that if it were just me, and something happened, even though Papa promised me nothing would happen," Aether stresses, "You two would be safe and away from here. And if I came with, I would crash and burn and they would get rid of me anyways. I'm tired, Mount. I'm sorry."

Mountain turns to face him for the first time, and Aether almost stumbles back a step. Mountain's eyes are red rimmed and puffy, tearstains streaking down into his stubble, lower lip trembling. "Nova," Mountain breathes, so quietly Aether almost thinks he imagines it. "I know you went to Dew first. He'd break if you were gone. If we lost you like we did the rest of our pack. But I need you to know it would break me. I'm your mate too."

Aether can't hold back the keen that he makes when he sees his mate in distress. "They need me in the infirmary, I'm not going anywhere, sweet thing," Aether swears. He starts to twist his bracelet around his wrist, trying to keep himself level. Mountain sets down his shears, tail thrashing behind him, distress rolling off of him in waves like the scent of rotting vegetation.

"You can say that all you want, Aether, but we both know."

"Mountain," Aether says. He runs a hand over his face. "Mount."

"What do you want me to do, nova?" The earth ghoul says, voice wavering like branches in a breeze. "The decision's already been made. You're staying here, while your mates and the rest of our pack leaves. And let's be honest with ourselves. Neither of us know if you'll be here when we come back."

Aether feels something shatter deep in the core of him as he watches Mountain's steady shoulders start to shake. He rushes forward just as Mountain's knees wobble, wrapping his mate up tight in an embrace, guiding his head down into the crook of his neck as he begins to sob.

He rubs his cheek against the velvet coating Mountain's spring antlers, unable to keep his own eyes from watering as he rubs Mountain's back, every muscle tense. For once, he doesn't know what to say. He just holds him, lets him cry.

Eventually, he coaxes Mountain back behind the curtain of hanging vines to his living area, a daybed big enough for the giant and his mates, a small table and chairs tucked next to a basin sink. They sit down on the daybed, their sides pressed flush together. Mountain turns, tucks his face back in the crook of Aether's neck.

"Sweet thing," Aether breathes, praying to the Father Below he can keep his voice level. "What can I do?"

Mountain sniffles, takes a second before he answers, pulling back from Aether's throat. "I miss them, Aeth. I miss them so much."

He's not looking at him, and Aether turns to follow Mountain's line of sight. He's staring almost blankly at the flower garden that blocks off this section of the greenhouse. There's a raised bed underneath one of the rafters, with a dozen hanging baskets that create a curtain of greenery. It's a visual cacophony of colors and shapes, but it's Mountain's pride and joy. Aether knows what this garden means, who each plant represents.

There's hanging baskets of oak-leafed geraniums, dotted with little purple flowers, and ones with fuzzy clusters of edelweiss. Deep purple, almost black irises shoot up from the main bed, petals ruffled and curled at the edges, broken up by bee balm and spider lilies and white and red snapdragons. A trellis of delicate yellow jasmine blossoms stands at the edge of the bed, surrounded by daffodils and catchfly and calla lilies and baby's breath.

But Mountain's eyes are drawn to the hanging cissus discolor vines, the silver striped, deep green leaves. Aether knows exactly who Mountain's thinking of.

"I know, sweet thing," Aether breathes, staring at Mountain's garden. "I miss them too."

Mountain tears his eyes away from Zephyr's plants, snapping to face Aether. "I don't want to miss you, nova," he says, just the slightest growl at the edge of his voice. Aether cups Mountain's cheek, runs his thumb over the prickly, tear-damp stubble there.

"It'll be okay, Mount. I'll be right here with Sunny when you and Dewey come home, promise."

He takes a long, shuddering breath, eyes fluttering shut as he tries to calm himself. "Aether, you and Dew are the only ones of the old pack I have left. Please, nova, you gotta understand."

Aether doesn't respond, just pulls him tight into another tight hug, big hand cradled against the back of his head, guiding his face back to his neck. "I know, Mounty. I know."

They sit there until the sun sinks below the treeline, and eventually, they return to the pack. Aether starts his shifts in the infirmary as his mates start rehearsals with the new ghoul and ghoulette. He has a lot of time to think, intake and discharge paperwork always on his desk, about how best he can soothe his mates with their upcoming departure. He fidgets with his bracelet as he thinks, and he lights up as it hits him. That's it.

He borrows Swiss's utility knife, flipping it open to the needlenose pliers, staring at his bracelet, a little too big for his wrist, how the silver matches the metal of the grucifixes he and his mates wear around their necks.

Aether waits until the night before the pack and Papa are due to leave to act. It takes a little finessing, because while Mountain takes his necklace off when he goes to bed, Dew never stops wearing his, but a little quintosis to put the fire ghoul in a deeper sleep doesn't hurt. He works quickly as his mates grumble in their sleep, subconsciously reacting to the empty space in their bed. Aether sets the necklaces in his nightstand when he's done, muttering under his breath as he struggles to reclasp his bracelet around his wrist one handed, fingers smelling of silver polish and metal.

Once he gets it clasped, he climbs back into bed, holding his mates close as he too sinks into a deep sleep. He's going to miss this, and that's the last thought he has before unconsciousness takes him.

He's woken by Dew scrambling in his arms. "It's- it's not here, I don't- Aeth, Mount, my grucifix-" He paws at his own chest, feeling for something under his oversized shirt that isn't there.

Aether sits up, taking Dew's face in his hands softly as Mountain groans and stretches behind them. "Sorry, love, I took it off while you were asleep. I didn't mean to make you panic, I wanted to do something for you and Mounty before you two head out."

Dew's eyes are still wide, chest heaving as he tries to calm himself down. "Aeth, what do you mean? Where's my grucifix?"

Aether nods, palms up and open as he climbs out from the tangled mess of their limbs. "I have them, they're right here," he says, opening up the drawer of his nightstand, pulling out the two necklaces. Aether sets Mountain's down, turning back to Dew.

"Let me?" Aether asks, avoiding Dew's outstretched hands. Dew takes in a shaking breath, staring up at his mate, and nods. Aether loosens the adjustable cord, slipping it over Dew's head, pulling his sleep-mussed braid through, and sets the freshly-polished grucifix right over his mate's heart.

Dew furrows his brow as Aether pulls away, fingers going to touch the new addition to the necklace; a small ring, plain, unadorned, but the same gleaming silver as the grucifix. "Aeth, is this..."

"Hmm?" Aether asks, grabbing Mountain's and humming as he clasps it around the earth ghoul's neck, his antlers too wide for an adjustable cord like Dew's. He settles the grucifix and a matching ring over his heart as well.

"Your bracelet, nova," Mountain breathes, putting voice to what Dew's unable to.

Aether nods, eyes flickering down to said bracelet. "Thought you might like to have something of mine close to you when you go."

Dew grins, even as his eyes flood with tears, and tackles Aether into a fierce hug. "You're a sappy fucking bastard, Aether," he says, even as his own voice wavers, cheek pressed to Aether's throat.

"Love you too, Dewbug," he says, catching Mountain's equally misty eyes over his shoulder. Mountain has a hand pressed to his chest, pressing the grucifix and ring against his heart. "And I love you, sweet thing."

Mountain grins, standing and wrapping his long arms around both his mates, the three of them soaking in these last moments before inevitably they have to go their separate ways.

Aether's right. Mountain and Dew don't take off their necklaces for a long time, long after they return from tour. They keep that tiny piece of their mate close to them, to where he lives inside of them no matter what happens.

[jennay]

Noah

An: My first Noah fic I hope you like it. Let me know what you think 💜 I always get nervous writing new people for whatever reason!

Noah Sebastian x reader

No warnings just fluff

Words: 2kish

Noah Master List

How did this happen?

You didn't mean to fall in love with Noah.

He was just a friend, nothing more. At least, that's what you thought.

You met Noah at a friend's birthday party five years ago. He was charming and handsome, but you didn't feel any sparks. He had a warm smile and a friendly handshake, but nothing that made your heart skip a beat. Like you, he was into music and photography, but so were many others. You exchanged numbers and stayed in touch as friends, but nothing more.

That changed when he asked you to look after his apartment and pets while he was on tour. You agreed to help him, thinking living in his place in a different city and state would be fun.

You didn't know that it would also bring you closer to him.

His apartment was cozy and colorful, with posters, books, and instruments. It smelled like coffee and vanilla, his favorite scents.

It felt like home, even though it wasn't yours. You loved spending time there, playing with his dog, and you read some of the books that stayed on his shelf. They looked like they needed some love, and you couldn't stand seeing the books covered in dust, alone and uncared for.

Noah would call you almost every night to check on his pup, leading to more extended conversations. He would tell you about his adventures on the road, the places he visited, and the people he met. He would ask about your day, work, and hobbies. He'd make you laugh with his jokes and stories.

"You're so fuckin cool, you know that?" He said one night.

You felt your cheeks flush. "No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are. You're doing me a huge favor, and I don't know how to thank you enough."

"You don't have to thank me."

You heard him sigh on the other end of the line. "Well, I owe you dinner or drinks, something like that, when I’m back in town."

You felt your heart race. "I could never say no to free drinks and dinner."

You realized that you had more in common than you thought. You shared the same sense of humor, values, and dreams. You also discovered new sides of him that you never knew before. He was passionate and creative but also humble and kind. He was generous and thoughtful but playful and adventurous.

He became everything you wanted in a partner.

But he was your friend.

He often told you how much he appreciated and trusted your friendship. He had also told you how hard it was for him to trust women after all the pain he had gone through. He had been betrayed and hurt by his ex-girlfriends, who had spread lies and rumors about him. They had tried to use him for fame and money, not caring about his feelings.

You were different from them. You were a journalist, but you never wrote anything wrong about him. You never exploited his secrets or his scandals. You never tried to get a scoop or a headline out of him. You respected his privacy and his dignity. You cared about him as a person, not as a celebrity.

You wanted to be the one who could heal his wounds, make him happy, and love him like no one else.

You wanted to be the one who could make him see that not all women were the same.

You wanted to be the one who could make him fall in love again.

You sure as hell didn't know if he saw you as more than a friend.

You were going to see him today at a hidden bar that only a few knew about. It was a place where he could be himself, away from the public's prying eyes. Noah loved his music and fans, but he was a private person. He needed his privacy, and you respected that.

You knew he would probably bring one of his bandmates with him. They were his support system, and though you sometimes wished he would come alone, you understood. That's why you often invited Allie along. She was your best friend and had a crush on Nicholas. Nicholas was smitten with her, too, and he would chase her around like a lovesick puppy, leaving you and Noah some time to yourselves.

You didn't go all out with your appearance, just a touch of makeup and a casual outfit. It wasn't your style, and you knew Allie would tease you if you showed up too fancy.

She'd been nagging you to confess your feelings to Noah; she even blurted it out to him once when she was drunk, but you brushed it off with a nervous laugh and told her to drop it.

You enter the bar, feeling the cool air hit your face. You head straight to the counter, order your favorite beer, and leave your debit card with the bartender.

You scan the room, looking for your friends. They stand out from the crowd. You see a tall man and a petite blonde girl, with Nicholas trailing behind them like a loyal dog. Your eyes land on Noah holding his cue stick and aiming at the table. He is smiling at something he said to Nicholas, but you can't make out his words over the loud music.

You grab your drink and walk towards them. Allie spots you first and runs towards you, wrapping you in a tight hug.

She slurs some words in your ear. "Finally!" She yells, her breath reeking of alcohol. "These two are no fun. They're too good at pool, and I can't beat them. So now they are playing each other, and I'm just watching." She giggles.

You escape from her hug and follow her to the table, putting down your drink and taking off your sweater. "Well, it's not a fair game when Noah's arms are longer than the fucking table." You joke.

"I heard that!" Noah shouts from across the table, waving his pool stick at you.

You shrug your shoulders, "It's the truth!"

"Who wants to play next?" Nicholas asks as he walks over to you and Allie. "Allie owes me a shot, and I'm done with him." He laughs, pointing at Noah.

"Are you giving up?" Noah asks as he joins the three of you. "I don't blame you. You suck and everything." He teases.

You smile up at him and open your arms to hug him. "I love being ignored." You say sarcastically, making Allie snort.

He hugs you tightly and rocks you back and forth slowly, "Sorry, my precious little angel," He mocks, "I was busy kicking ass."

Nicholas hands you his cue stick and grabs Allie by the arm, dragging her to the bar. "Good luck!" He yells back at you.

"Ok, Noah." You laugh, trying to escape his grip, "You can let go now."

He looks at you with a fake hurt expression, "But I thought we were having a moment."

You roll your eyes, "Yeah, a moment of suffocation."

He grins and releases you, "Fine, fine. Let's play then. Loser buys the next round."

You nod, "Deal. But don't cry when I beat you." He winks, "We'll see about that."

You and Noah start playing pool, taking turns to hit the balls. You're both good at the game but like to distract each other with jokes and taunts. You laugh and tease each other, enjoying the friendly competition.

You notice he's getting closer to you, leaning over your shoulder to show you how to aim better, brushing his hand against your arm when he passes the cue stick, whispering in your ear when he makes a shot. You feel a surge of heat in your body, wondering if he is flirting with you or just being playful.

You decide to play along, hoping he will make a move. You touch his chest when you congratulate him on a good shot, look into his eyes when you talk to him, and bite your lip when you miss a shot.

You see him react to your signals, his eyes darkening, his breath quickening, his smile widening.

You’re both down to the last ball, the black eight. It's his turn, and he has a clear shot. He looks at you and says, "If I make this, I win. And if I win, I get to ask you something."

You raise your eyebrows, curious and nervous. "I have to buy you a drink, and you get to ask me something?" You ask. "That doesn't seem very fair."

He shakes his head, "It's fair, you'll see." He bends over the table and aims at the ball. He hits it with precision and power, sending it into the corner pocket.

He straightens up and pumps his fist in the air. "Got it!" He exclaims. He turns to you and grabs your hand, pulling you close. "I win!"

You smile and nod, "Yes, you do."

He looks into your eyes and says, "And now I get to ask you something."

You swallow hard, feeling his breath on your face. "What do you want to ask me?"

He leans in and whispers in your ear, "Can I kiss you?"

"Are you drunk?" You ask, taken back by his question, "You don't want to kiss me. That's the alcohol talking. Are you drunk?"

He chuckles, "No, I'm not drunk, and I want to kiss you. Am I reading signals wrong? I thought that's what you wanted..." He nervously speaks, his dark brown eyes closely watching you, waiting for a response. Did he overstep your boundaries?

In a whirlwind of nervous energy, you feel your heart race as you stare at him. What are you waiting for? Isn't this what you wanted?

You softly nod your head, "Ok," You whisper.

You feel everything else fade away, and the only thing that matters at that moment is him. As your lips get closer, the air gets thicker with anticipation, your hearts beating as one. The world pauses, waiting for this moment. With a gentle move, he lowers his head, and a wave of bliss washes over you when you feel his lips press to yours. You feel warmth as his hands caress your face, and he deepens the kiss. Your arms wrap around his neck tightly, not letting him go.

You hope this is real, not some cruel dream playing with your mind.

When you finally pull away, your eyes meet again, breathless and smiling like two people who have just found a hidden treasure. You see the love and happiness in his eyes, reflecting your own.

“About damn time!” Nicholas shouts from behind you, breaking the spell. You laugh, feeling a bit shy but also proud of what you have done.

You lean in and give Noah another kiss, softer and sweeter than the first one, just to make sure it's real.

You didn't mean to fall in love with Noah. But you did, and it changed everything.

[tealvenetianmask]

I want to take apart the use of the word, "dramatic" in the fandom a little and try to understand why it gets applied to Stolas so often and not to Blitz. Because, honestly, they both sort of are . . .

If dramatic means "oozes emotions and makes the audience feel something for them." Both have really intense emotional moments in the show.

The truth is, they also both hold back quite a lot though. (So maybe neither is dramatic?) There are tons of examples, but to save space, here's one of each. We see Stolas forcing his face serene in the middle of a drunken crying session in Apology Tour, and we see Blitz leave rather than let Stolas see him cry in Ozzie's.

And they BOTH don't let the people in their lives see that they're hurting. Stolas wears a mask for Octavia, and Blitz wears a mask for . . . everyone in his life, really . . . Until recently, both wore masks for each other pretty much constantly too. But when they're each alone, we see the truth.

Okay, so obviously it comes down to presentation, right? Specifically gender presentation . . .

Stolas gets judged as dramatic (and even whiny or self-absorbed in anti circles) because he laments in deep, lofty ballads, with make-up dripping down his face, which is honestly such a win for all the grown-up emo kids watching. He relates to soap opera protagonists and wants to be chased after while he's boarding a train. He reads romance novels.

In short, when he expresses emotions, when he consumes media about romance . . . he's being traditionally "feminine." (A note: this is also why he's often portrayed by fans as "the woman" in the relationship- and that can have its own problems, since, yes, this is a gay relationship between two men, and regardless of gender presentation, neither needs to be "the woman.")

Blitz on the other hand . . . well. He's not masculine in every way either, is he? He loves to crossdress for fun work. When he's enjoying his down time, he's watching two cutesy horses kissing.

But he expresses emotions in ways that are socially accepted as masculine. Namely, anger. It's not dramatic to do any of this, is it?

He calls listening to love ballads "gay . . ." oh, and he uses the same insult for Stolas . . . you know . . . trying to talk about emotions with him. So, for better or worse (worse- this is a bad thing), he's pretty deeply entrenched in society's expectations of masculinity. Or anyway, he performs it more convincingly than Stolas does. Well enough, it seems, to convince some viewers that he's 1) just an asshole with no depth and/or 2) just a chill and badass regular dude man.

But here's the kicker. NEITHER of these characters are wrong for having emotions and expressing them. It's a good thing actually.

In the world of the show, expression heals. Singing helps Stolas process the changes in his life. His decision to tell Blitz how he feels WILL ultimately help them both with their character development. Blitz ends up happier than he's been in a long time and manages to repair a friendship after 15 years apart once he explains his emotional experience to Fizz and cries. Accepting some emotions other than anger in Apology Tour (even if he's far from finished processing them) enables Blitz to grow profoundly as a person.

This blog is in favor of being dramatic.

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Wild Nights || CL16 {Epilogue}

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x songstress!reader Summary: With a new album out it needs promoting and you find yourself missing Charles while you are in New York for a talkshow interview. Warnings: 18+only, flufffff WC: 1.1k

F1 Masterlist || One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Epilogue

February 2025 “I wish you were here,” you whispered into the phone that you weren’t supposed to have in the talk show studio. “I’m shaking like a leaf.”

“You’ll do great, my love,” he reassured you and you could hear a lot of background noise from the other people at the airport. “I’ll see you soon.”

No sooner had the call ended that the studio lights dimmed and the live audience fell silent.

“Now our next guest really needs no introduction,” Jimmy Fallon began to say while you nervously paced behind the curtain, until Bea pulled you to a stop, “her debut self-titled album went platinum and I have no doubt her new album, Safety Car, will be just as good. Please, put your hands together for Y/N.”

Bea gave you an encouraging push and you forced yourself to focus on putting one foot in front of the other. No matter how many times you took the stage for a concert, or an interview, you still found yourself nervous - but you equally loved the thrill that came with it.

Once you were sitting in the chair the jitters faded away and you fell into the rhythm of answering the questions he fired your way.

“So, Safety Car, talk me through this album. How did you come up with the name?”

“Obviously Charles is a huge part of my life, we have known each other for a couple of years now, and this album was made collaboratively with him. That’s all him on the piano with pieces that he composed, so the journey of this album gives a glimpse into that relationship we have, especially the ups and downs that come with life. 

“I’m not sure if you keep up with Formula One, Jimmy, but when there’s danger on the track they deploy a safety car to guide the drivers through that peril. This whole album is about being each other's safety car and helping navigate the other through those hard times.”

“Wow, that is so wholesome and sweet,” he gushed before looking down at his cue card. “But what exactly is ‘that relationship’? Because we know you and Charles are together, everyone and their dog knows you two are together, but there was never actually any announcement as such and now there’s rumours that you secretly tied the knot while you were at the Vegas Grand Prix this year?”

You tipped your head back with a laugh. “You’ll have to ask him that because I don’t think he ever officially asked me out. We kind of just collided and stayed that way.”

“So you aren’t together?” he gasped like it was some scandalous news but you just gave him a wink.

“We love each other dearly, I mean, we found each other when we were both going through a difficult time and helped each other to heal. Any chance we have at seeing each other we take but we have always been aware that the reality is that our lives are in very different places. Charles’ work takes him all over the world and with my second tour coming up there just aren't a lot of places where our lines intersect.” 

The crowd sighed sadly but you shrugged it off with a smile as you continued, “Neither of us would ask the other to give up on their dreams, that wouldn’t be love then, would it? It’s what inspired my first single Love Is Letting Go. Charles had an amazing 2024 season and has renewed his contract with Ferrari, and his dream is to win a championship with them in particular so he’s very focused on that for this coming year and I’m so proud of him. Maybe one day our lives will be at the same pace but for now we cherish the moments we do get.”

“Oh don’t we know it,” the host chuckled. “We have all seen the photos floating around whenever you two hit the town. Looks like you have some pretty wild nights out together.”

“We do have a lot of fun. Why not? Life’s too short, might as well be wild and free.”

“That is true, but are you free? How else do you explain this photo?”

A picture appeared on the screen that had been taken inside the infamous White Chapel in Las Vegas. It wasn’t exactly clear who was in the photo because of the costumes but it didn’t take a genius to work out who was standing at the altar getting married. 

Pierre’s brown hair stuck out the front of a slick jet-black coifed wig while Bea’s white halter dress barely contained her boobs as she twerked against him. It was a little harder to tell it was you and Charles in front of Arthur, who had bought an online Certificate of Ordination so he could be the celebrant. Your brother-in-law had spent so long trying to find a printer in the hotel that he was last to arrive and left with a Star Wars costume.

“Well, Jimmy, I believe that is Darth Vader, Elvis Presley, Marilyn Monroe, and Bonnie and Clyde. And it looks like they are having one hell of a time.”

“That’s all you’re gonna give us?” he asked with a chuckle and mock disappointment as he shook his head. “Fine, fine. Can you at least give us a song?”

The small side stage was dark when you took your place at the microphone but when the lights came on and illuminated the piano it wasn’t Bea that was sitting there as planned.

The crowd screamed as they saw Charles and your eyes widened, a smile growing as you drank him in after a long two weeks apart. “You’re meant to be on a plane.”

“I got on an earlier one,” he said, the piano microphone picking up his soft words as he sent a wink to the camera, “so I could support my beautiful, talented wife.”

The air froze for a split second before chaos erupted and the audience cheered.

You looked across the stage at Jimmy as a smile broke on your face. “Uh-oh, busted!” You reached into your pocket and slipped the sedate diamond ring you had chosen, opting for something smaller than the huge rock that Charles would have gone for, and slipped it back on your finger that had felt empty without it. “I guess this makes us pretty official.”

Charles teased the crowd as he played the wedding march tune. “There was never any doubt in my mind.”

Tagging: @91vhs @alwaysclassyeagle @applespiez @ravenqueen27 @booksobsess @tempo-rary-fix @baw-sixteen @im-an-overthinker @notleclerc

[katewritesthings]

Love Me Like I Can // Chapter 1

Chapter 1 // Vibe

pairing: Joe Burrow x Singer! Original Female Character

•summary: Inspired by Scandoval and Taylor/Travis. R&B singer Diana Hayes navigates falling in love after a cheating scandal captures the attention of America and a certain Bengal.

•warnings: •warnings: Cursing. Cheating. Sexual Situations. Drinking. Drug use. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

January 21, 2024.

Diana was currently sitting cross-legged in Biz’s room, computer in her lap, sharing a bottle of wine with her sister. Open on the screen was the Spotify app, with Diana’s first album Get Out pulled. Avoiding the writing she was supposed to be doing, the singer was instead focusing on watching her sister unpack her new room. The activity was a welcome distraction from the feelings that usually came with writing.

The past three weeks had been hectic for the sisters to say the least. Diana had finished up all of her press obligations for Band Together and the release of her EP in the first two weeks of January and spent the past week moving her things into her new rental in New York from Boston. They had two and a half weeks before Diana’s schedule would be filled with writing and recording for her upcoming album and tour. She had thought stepping foot into the house she shared with Connor would make her miss him, but in reality, it just made her angry and sad that every memory she had of Boston was tied to him.

“So, what are you doing again?” Biz questioned, passing the bottle and continuing to hang her sweaters. 

“I’m making a public playlist with some of my songs and some songs by other people who have summed my feelings up more eloquently than I could have,” Diana explained, adding the title song to the playlist. Leave (Get Out) applied to her current situation way than she could have ever thought when she recorded it at 14. She moved on to her second album, eyes scanning the titles.

“No, I know what you’re doing. I guess I should have asked why you’re doing this instead of… yknow, writing and preparing for the songwriting session you have coming up. You record at the beginning of March, you’ve got to have material.”

“I think I’m still more hung up on the situation than I want to be and people to know about. Like, I don’t know what combination of emotions I’m experiencing, but I’m stuck,” Diana admitted, twisting her long hair into a top knot and adding two songs, “The High Road” and “Too Little Too Late” from her second album. “Like, can I write about the situation and still be angry? Can I use the songs I wrote about Connor? I definitely don’t want people to think I’m still hung up on him. I’m really just hurt by the betrayal of it all.”

“Well, I think you’re allowed to still be heartbroken about it still, Di. It’s been three months.” Biz had made her way to Diana to hand her the wine and wrap her into a hug. “This is the first downtime you’ve had since then, you’re allowed to be sad and people will be fine with that. We’re going to get drunk tonight and have fun. If you write, you write. No pressure on healing, okay?” 

Diana stared at her sister’s little finger before her own laced around it and she uttered, “Promise.” 

“Now, turn on some music, and let’s go do a shot!”

Biz indicated to follow her, so Diana did as she was told. Half an hour later, the two were sitting on the couch in their living room laptop between them, taking their second shot of tequila. Diana would be lying if she said she didn’t feel the first and the large glass of Sauvignon Blanc she had been sipping from. 

“Have you texted Joe yet?” Biz’s voice chimed, clearly trying to brighten the mood. Unfortunately for Diana, the alcohol intensified the feelings of rejection as her face settled into a deep frown and a lump formed in her throat.

“No.. uhm, his agent never got back to Cathy, so I never got his number…” She cleared her throat and gave a nervous laugh. “Which is totally fine or whatever because I almost even forgot his name.” Biz rolled her eyes, ���Right,” she muttered as she took a drink of her own cocktail. She knew her sister spent at least two days googling the handsome quarterback. “Have you reached out on social media?”

“I don’t want to look desperate, Biz! I don’t even know if I’m ready for another relationship. He’s just cute and looked fun, that’s all.” Diana was still nervous about the idea of jumping into something so soon. She and Connor had been together since she was 19 and while he wasn’t her first relationship, she thought at one point he was going to be her last. The idea of starting over at 26 was scary.

“I think we should invite him and some friends to your birthday party,” Biz interrupted her self-doubt spiral to propose the wildest idea Diana had heard yet. 

“Biz, he won’t even give me his number. How would I even do that?,” Diana shifted in her seat uncomfortably. “His friends were probably just making fun of him because he likes my music.” “I wish you would stop fucking doubting yourself, Di. You’re hot as fuck and dude probably too scared to text you. You build everybody up but yourself. I wish you would give yourself half the love and grace you give other people.” Biz’s words must have sparked inspiration because Diana grabbed her laptop and paused the music. Opening a word document she began typing and humming to a beat. 

Lover girl, loving everything but herself.

Pedestals for everyone, but she’s on a shelf.Emotion comatose, you know how that shit goes.

The sisters spent the next forty minutes sending ideas back and forth to each other, opening another bottle of wine, and listening to Diana sing their ideas into the room. They had finished one song and had even been in good enough spirits to finish a song Diana had been working on before her breakup. Giggling with her sister would never get old, Diana was certain. Everything she had been through in the past three months just made her realize how grateful she was that she had her sister. When their dad died, Diana had attempted to shut everyone from her family out of her life and she was just glad Biz was too stubborn to let that happen. 

Just as the thought that Biz’s stubbornness was a positive trait crossed Diana’s mind, she looked up to see her phone in her sister’s hand and hear a “It isn’t what it looks like,” fall out of her mouth.

“Well, then what is it? Because it sure as hell looks like you’re going through my phone,” Diana shrieked, weakly reaching for the iPhone.

“I just texted Cathy to invite some of the Bengals to your party! You’re already going to be meeting Taylor’s boyfriend, might as well make it an AFC reunion,” Biz said excitedly, knowing it was too late for the text to be unsent.

Diana wanted to be angry at her sister, but she couldn’t help but feel the excitement bubbling in her stomach. 

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

February 3, 2024

Diana hadn’t celebrated a birthday since her 20th and she was nervous. Biz and her manager Cathy, had insisted on throwing her a huge birthday party to make up for the ones that she missed celebrating. Connor had always insisted that celebrating birthdays was narcissistic, refusing even to get her a present in the seven years they were together. 

The redhead was currently sitting in the back of a blacked-out Suburban, between Biz and Taylor Swift. In the third row sat Travis and Austin, Taylor’s brother,  quietly chatting about something that Di couldn’t make out. 

“Thank you again for this, Taylor,” Diana sighed, trying to regulate her breathing. “There is no need to thank me! Everyone needs a friend, Diana. Just because you’ve had some pretty shitty ones in the past doesn’t mean we can’t show you what they’re really supposed to be.” Taylor said, placing an arm around her new friend’s shoulder.

“Plus, if my intuition is right, you just might be making more friends tonight,” Taylor smiled as the car came to a stop. Diana was going to ask what she meant before the door was opened and flashes of light began blinding her vision.

Diana was still trying to get her eyesight back to normal when she stepped into the venue that had been rented for the evening. Her sister had done an amazing job, the entire room was decorated as if they had just stepped foot into a forest. She now understood why her sister insisted on her wearing the cream corseted dress that perfectly fit the theme. Diana felt like a fairy.

Looking around the room, Diana was overwhelmed by not only the number of people but who cared enough to actually show up for her. The room was a mix of people she met since the breakup and ones who have known her since before her debut album. She was almost certain she had seen some people she hadn’t even recognized!

Two hours after arriving and making her rounds, Diana found herself sharing a joint with Elijah, one of her childhood friends from Philly. The two hadn’t seen each other in years, but had picked back up like they never missed a step. The pair were in a fit of giggles when Diana noticed a group of rather large men sitting at a high top near the bar.

Diana took a pull from the join, squinting her eyes to try to make out the faces of any of the four men laughing amongst themselves. “Do you know who they are,” she exhaled the question and the smoke together. 

“Not for real, but it looks like they linebackers or some shit,” Elijah cackled, taking the joint from Diana’s hand. 

“Fuck,” she cursed Biz aloud. “That has to be Travis’ friends, right?” 

Diana was weighing the odds that any Chiefs player, other than the one who was dating her friend, would show up to her party less than a week after losing the spot in the upcoming Super Bowl. She didn’t know much about pro athletes, but based off of the way Travis was talking to Biz in the car, the team was taking it pretty hard. 

“Shit, I know him though,” Eli pointed out Travis in the crowd, heading their way with Taylor. When the couple arrived in front of them, Eli offered the joint to Travis and Taylor grabbed hold of Diana’s hand. 

“C’mon, Di! There’s some people I want to introduce you to!” Taylor’s drunken giggles filled Diana’s ears. She wasn’t sure if it was the four Palomas she had pounded since she got here, the pre-roll she just took part in, or the second-hand confidence that comes from being on the arm of The Taylor Swift, but all of her anxiety was replaced with excitement as she was pulled towards the unknown men. 

“Hey fellas!” Taylor greeted the group, “I’m Taylor and I really think you should say Happy Birthday to my friend, Diana!” 

The redhead shot her a confused look, expecting Taylor to have met these men before at least! Deep laughs pulled her out of her thoughts as a chorus of ‘happy birthdays’ filled the air.

The man that Diana didn’t recognize spoke first, “Thanks for inviting us! I’m Tee.” Offering out his hand and pointing out the other men as he said their names. “Ja’Marr, Joe, and T.B.”

“Oh! Hi!” Diana greeted more excitedly than she would if she were sober. “I saw your interview! Thank you so much for giving me a shout-out. Anyone who plays my music on live TV is cool in my book”

Ja’Marr and Tee broke into laughter as Tee elbowed Joe in the ribs and whispered something to the guys.. She wasn’t sure if it was her projecting or if she actually saw Joe blush and look away. Thankfully, before anxiety could take over Diana’s mind, Ja’Marr shouted over the music. 

“Let’s just say you’ve been on the official playlist since the LSU days with me and Joe. Ever since I met him, he been playing that Marvin’s Room cover..” 

Diana’s face burned, embarrassed about the drunken remix she had done on Instagram Live at 18. A fight with her then-boyfriend sparked a bender of prescriptions and alcohol causing her to lose inhibitions and stream from the recording studio. While she was embarrassed about the situation, she was happy her label had let her finally release more mature music after. 

“Oh, my God! I forgot you did that” Taylor giggled, swatting her new friend’s arm. “That was so Bad Ass.”

“I agree,” Joe spoke for the first time. His voice was clearer, more sure of itself than Diana remembered from the interview. And Mic’d Ups she had seen after googling him. 

“Thank you,” Diana accepted, eyes trained on Joe. One of the other men had changed topics in the brief moment their eyes had locked, but she couldn’t be sure which. The intensity of Joe’s gaze caused heat to fill Diana’s cheeks and she turned back to the group just in time to hear Ja’Marr jesting with Taylor.

“As cool as your boy is, I’m glad it’s not him in the Super Bowl. Like I said a few weeks ago, anyone but the Chiefs.”

“Hey, now. Don’t be bitter we went farther than you, Chase.” Travis’ voice startled Diana, who was doing her best to stare anywhere but at Joe. She busied herself by watching the Tight End as he carefully distributed the drinks he was carrying, an Old Fashion for Taylor and a Paloma for Diana and himself. 

After thanking Travis, Diana turned her focus back to the group. The conversation had turned to the topic of the recent football season and even though Diana knew next to nothing about sports, she found the conversation was piquing her interests more than she imagined. “And I’m not sorry, bro. I said what I said and I said anyone but the Chiefs,” Ja’Marr laughed in Travis’ direction. “Oh, so you guys have beef,” Diana questioned, nervous to show she didn’t know much about the profession of the majority of the group. Luckily the men were kind enough to explain their recent rivalry and some of the basics of the game. Well, as much as they could with the amount of alcohol that was being consumed. Before long Taylor had excused herself to say hi to someone she had recognized, Ja’ and Travis and T.B. had broken into their own conversation, moving to the bar itself. 

“So, Ja’Marr and I are wide-receiver, which means that it’s our job to catch the ball when the quarterback, or Joe, throws it,” Tee was attempting to explain to Diana for the third time. Joe was staring, finishing the last of his drink and Ja’Marr shook his head in frustration as Diana nodded her head in a way that showed she clearly had not committed the information to memory. “Man, Tee, just give up. Let’s go get us some drinks,” Ja’Marr pulled T.B. away, leaving just Joe smiling at Diana.

“So, uh, I’m glad you guys came!,” Diana blurted out nervously, instantly cringing that she had just repeated her introduction. “Well, what I mean is, I didn’t get response from the team or see you guys when I first got here.” “Oh, we lost track of time pregaming and were advised to come in through the back since the press saw some of the guests you had,” Joe smiled, simultaneously calming some of the nervousness she felt and sending her stomach into somersaults. “Apparently you’re quite the popular lady. Taylor Swift and Wiz Khalifa at the same party? Talk about Taylor Gang or die.” 

Diana laughed at the last comment. She really was blown away by the amount of people who showed up for her. She hadn’t even spoken to Cam, better known as Wiz, since their collaboration six years ago and he had shown up to support her.

“Yeah, I’m really grateful that all of these people wanted to spend their evening celebrating me,” Diana beamed. She was in a state of intoxicated euphoria that was giving her the courage to act on what she wanted, like asking Joe to leave the crowded room. “Do you want to walk to the balcony?”

A curt nod of agreement was all it took for the pair to drain their drinks, stand up from the table, and make their way to the outer edge of the room. Conversation flowed freely between the two as they walked, discussing their tastes in music, movies, and books.

“You look wonderful tonight, by the way,” Joe changed the subject, eyes scanning the dance floor where his teammates had found their home for the night. 

Diana was sure that her face was going to permanently be the color of her hair just from the presence of the quarterback to the side of her. “Thank you, you don’t look so bad yourself,” she replied.

And he did. He was wearing a pair of faded black jeans that were perfectly tailored to his muscular thighs, a black t-shirt that was clinging to his chest nicely, a brightly colored jacket and his signature gold chains, including the 9. Diana let her eyes linger on his chest longer than she normally would have before Joe’s voice broke her out of the trance.

“So, can I be honest with you?,” Joe asked, glancing down at Diana. Even in the heels she was currently wearing, the man still stood a good 8 inches taller than the woman at his side. 

“Uhm, sure?” Diana answered, unsure of what was about to come. ‘I’ve known the man for less than an hour, what hasn’t he been honest about?’ Diana thought to herself as they made their way down the hall that led to the balcony.

“I was honestly shocked you invited me after Ja’Marr’s interview,” Joe laughed, opening the door, and letting Diana step onto the balcony before following suit. 

“Are you kidding me? I’m shocked that you guys listen to my music!” Diana shoved his shoulder. “Besides, I got pressured into inviting you all since you curved me last month.” 

The redhead took a few more steps before she realized that Joe was no longer beside her. When she glanced backward, she noticed that Joe was wearing a puzzled expression.

“What do you mean I curved you,” Joe asked slowly like he was trying to put pieces of the puzzle together.

“Well, after I saw your interview, I was honestly shocked that you even listened to my music. Then Ja’Marr said to hit you up, so I had my manager ask your team for your number,” Diana explained, body fully turned towards Joe now. “I never heard back and Biz insisted it wasn’t desperate to try again too.” “You’re joking,” Joe let out a humorless laugh and shook. “I thought that was the team making fun of me after Ja’Marr embarrassed me with the interview.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Was what he said not true?” Diana teased, taking a step toward him. “Are you not a fan?”

“No, I’m a huge fan,” Joe flushed, eyes locked with the aquamarine ones in front of him, encouraging Diana to take another step. “Yeah, what was it the Ja’Marr said? ‘Practically obsessed,” Diana’s voice came out breathier than she imagined, taking another step. She was practically chest to chest to chest with Joe, their eye contact never breaking. “To ‘hit you up’” 

That was all Joe needed before grabbing the back of her head and leaning down to capture her lips in a kiss. The action was drunk and messy, fueled by equal parts lust and alcohol. As the kiss deepened all Diana could think about was how she wasn’t close enough to Joe. Grabbing his jacket, she stepped into him again, causing him to slowly take steps backward until his thighs hit a table beside the door, filled with floral arrangements and an ashtray. Joe shifted his weight so that he was partially sitting on the table, partially leaning. Their lips moved together rhythmically until Joe pulled away and trailed kisses down her jawbone, grabbing at the tulle skirt of Diana’s dress while Diana adjusted her legs on either side of Joe’s so that she was straddling his thigh. 

Joe’s mouth worked its way towards Diana’s neck, finding the tender spot behind her ear. A wave of pleasure washed through Diana, a moan leaving her lips and hips bucking against Joe’s thigh. His rough hands ran up and down her body methodically as if he already knew what buttons to push to cause the woman before him to melt, mouth continuing its path down her cherry blossom tattoo.

Diana rocked her hips again, craving the relief the friction had given her, hands tangling in Joe’s waves. “Fuck,” she whispered, barely finding her voice. Joe pulled back, hungry gaze meeting Diana’s eyes before recapturing her swollen lips. Placing his hands firmly on her hips, he helped her find a motion that kept the moans falling from her beautiful mouth. A familiar tension, one that Diana had only felt at her own hands the past three months, was building in her stomach as she took Joe’s bottom lip between her teeth. Her alcohol-raddled brain didn’t care that she was on a balcony riding a professional athlete’s thigh, she was desperate for release and she was determined to get it.

That was until the door beside them slammed open, causing Diana to take a step back from Joe. Biz stepped through the door, calling Diana’s name. “Di! Are you out he-”

Biz cut herself off when her eyes landed on her sister, lips swollen, love bites down her neck, the skirt of her dress still in Joe’s hand. The pair looked like they had been caught with their hands in the cookie jar. “Oh! I, well, I just came to find you because it’s time for cake. We’ve been looking for you.”

Diana cleared her throat, causing Joe to let go of her skirt and stand up straight. “Right, uh, you better get in there. Can’t cut the cake without the birthday girl. I’ll talk to yo later, I guess.” Scratching the back of his head, Joe did his best to look anywhere but at Biz while he exited the balcony.

“What the fuck was that?” Biz asked, incredulously, still staring at her sister. 

“Well, I don’t know what it could have been, but what it turned out to be was a cockblock,” Diana laughed. “What happened to ‘I barely remember his name’ and ‘he was just making fun of me’,” Biz’s face finally broke into a smile. “I don’t know, Biz. I think we were just both drunk. I’m sure he was just looking for someone to hook up with, it’s probably nothing,” Diana shrugged, brushing past her sister. “Now let’s go get cake.”

After cutting the cake, the last hour of the party was a blur to Diana. Cathy, her manager, had grabbed and insisted she say bye to as many of the music producers as possible before making her own exit. Normally, Diana wouldn’t have minded at all, wanting to take any opportunity she had to suck up to the people in charge of her music. But tonight, Diana could not take her mind off Joe and his blue eyes and soft lips. She hadn’t managed to get his phone number after realizing that he never rejected her and she was hoping to see him again.

After saying farewell to the last of the label reps, Cathy advised Diana to finish up her goodbyes as it was almost time for the car to take her home. Diana followed instructions, making sure that when she found Biz and Taylor, they stayed by her side. While waiting for Travis and Austin to show up with the groups’ coats, Diana couldn’t help but continue to glance around the room for messy brown waves.

“They left right after the cake was cut,” Biz spoke knowingly, a smirk on her face. Diana’s heart dropped. She didn’t get to say bye to Joe.

“Who left?” Taylor asked, “The guys from the Bengals. Seems like Diana and the quarterback snuck off to have a little fun,” Biz cackled, “He even gave her a hickey like we’re in seventh grade.”

Before Diana could reply to her sister, Travis and Austin approached the ladies and started distributing coats before the group made their way outside and into the Suburban waiting for them. Determined to not let disappointment ruin her night, Diana decided to add songs that reminded her of tonight to her public playlist while they drove. She added “How to Touch a Girl” before moving on to her last album. Looking over the tracklist, she added “Vibe” and “Like This”,  deciding that they perfectly described the feelings of lust and excitement she was filled with earlier.

Diana couldn’t shake the feeling as she was falling asleep that she wished that she had stopped Joe from leaving the balcony. Maybe then, she would be falling asleep next to him and not squished in between her sister and her new friend.

--------

Taglist: If you'd like to be added, let me know!

@therapycat21

Ahhhh, I am so overwhelmed by the feedback. Thank you so much for liking, reblogging, and replying. I don't know if you all are interested in the spotify playlist Diana would make or media blurbs after the chapter, but I can also do those.

Thank you again!

[a-killer-obsession]

Wavelengths [Killer x Reader, Heat x Reader]

🔞 Minors DNI 🔞

A search for a rumored Vegapunk weapon leads the Kid Pirates to an unexpected new crewmate, with a bloodlust that rivals their own and an incredible power.

CW: Please check AO3 for all current warnings, but general warning for smut, slow burn, serious gore, and really dark themes. AFAB reader, she/her pronouns.

Masterlist || AO3 || Chapter 1

Chapter 7 - Trust

You help Mohawk give the crew their annual medical checkups.

WC: ~4k

Taglist: @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @tremendoushorsepatrolgoth

Apparently the Kid Pirates took their health more seriously than Yin would have guessed, because during dinner it was decided that tomorrow Yin would start her new job in the infirmary by assisting with annual medical checkups. Apparently Mohawk was adamant that the crew have regular health assessments, though to be honest only the top dogs ever usually made it through more than one annual checkup. Henchmen and cabin boys didn't often survive that long. Regardless, he kept well organized records of everyone currently on the ship, with manila folders containing sheets of information, from medical history to blood types to work he'd done himself. They were all kept in careful alphabetical order in filing cabinets that sat in the infirmary, organized by first name since many of the ship's occupants didn't have a surname.

With the addition of Yin's skills he was determined to add a new sheet of paper to each file, documenting old bone breaks, as well as any current internal issues that he might not have been able to catch without scanning equipment. The crew wasn't due for their annuals for another month or so, but he was excited to test out her abilities, so he'd convinced Kid to bring it forward.

She followed him to the infirmary after breakfast, where he gave her a quick tour of the room before performing her own checkup. He usually liked to do an initial interview when a new crewmate came on board but there hadn't really been the opportunity to do it till now. Anytime she'd been free, he'd been busy.

She gave him the short version of her life, he wasn't shocked to hear how the marines had treated her. They discussed contraceptives for a short while, but in truth he didn't really know much about them, since he was used to working for a crew of only men. She told him she had some sort of implant the commodore had forced on to her, so he made a note to look in to it, but left it be at that. The entire female reproductive system was something he was going to need to study now. He at least didn't need to inquire about her last cycle, or how irregular her period was, since he'd heard from Heat what happened during her initiation. He'd been unsurprised to discover the slave mark burned in to her skin in the middle of her back, it was long healed since it had been probably twenty years since she was branded.

“Any old injuries to note?” He asked, pulling out the new page he'd whipped up yesterday and photocopied a million times. It had a simple outline of a human, duplicated and labeled ‘front’ and ‘back’, with space around the edges so he could make notes and draw arrows to mark notable injuries.

“I broke my left ankle when I was learning to moon step, when I was about fourteen,” she said, tapping her lip with her index finger while she tried to recall past injuries, “oh and I dislocated my right hip when I was eight”

“How'd you do that?” He asked, making quick notes on the page.

“Got raped by a man too big for me,” she said plainly. He paused and put down his pen, letting out a heavy sigh. She seemed indifferent, like she'd just told him she'd fallen from a tree or something. You know, something normal for an eight year old to have done. He didn't pry further, she'd already given him her life story, he didn't need more information.

“I just need to check your eyes and ears and we can start calling the crew in for their checks,” he said, wheeling his stool over to sit in front of her. She was sitting over the side of the examination table. The infirmary wasn't large, but it was big enough for a decent size desk, an examination table, and a couple of more comfortable beds for those who needed a quiet place to recover, or required observation. The walls were lined with cabinets, many of them under lock and key, bookcases containing medical journals, and several tall filing cabinets. The room didn't have any windows, since it was smack in the middle of the building that sat above deck towards the back of the ship, and it smelt heavily of medical grade disinfectant.

“Can you remove your mask for me?” He asked politely, otoscope in hand.

“I can but you have to be quick, did Killer explain how my mask works to you?” She asked.

“He did, you won't be able to hear or see me properly, correct?” He said, “I'll be quick, just look straight ahead and stay still, I'll put your mask back on as soon as I'm done”

“Okay then, I think I trust you,” she slid her mask off and placed it on the bed beside her, sitting as still as she could, “okay, go ahead,” she couldn't make out her own voice, but she hoped she was speaking.

He gasped as he looked at her eyes and saw the grey-pink, no whites or iris or discernable pupil visible on them. He pushed it aside for now, he had to check her ears first. He moved quickly, knowing that every second he took was another second for her to become overwhelmed. Killer had warned that in the past she'd been known to become feral when she was without her mask, and he didn't feel like getting bitten today.

Her ears looked healthy, so he swapped his otoscope for his ophthalmoscope, rolling his stool to be directly in front of her and gently pulling her eyelids away to see more of her eyeballs. It was useless, he couldn't make out anything remotely human on her eyes other than the shape - whatever was going on with them was outside of his skillset. He sighed and gave up, putting the tool down and picking her mask up to slide carefully over her head. She felt it starting to touch her, so she quickly took over and shimmied it into its usual comfortable position.

“All done?” She asked.

“All done, thanks for not biting me,” he half laughed as he scribbled notes in her chart.

“I only do that to men who ask nicely,” he assumed she winked after that but he couldn't tell past the visor.

“Right,” he tried to brush it off, he wasn't one who was comfortable or who knew how to react to open flirting, “so, with the others. I'll do all my usual examinations, and when I'm done I'll have you scan them. I want to hear about any current or old injuries, and any abnormalities you see. I've never had access to scanning equipment so it'll be mostly new information for me.”

“Okay, can do doc!” She replied, moving from the exam table to the desk, sitting on the edge and kicking her feet.

“One last thing,” Mohawk said as he stood to go find his first patient. Most of the crew thought medical checks were for pussies and would no doubt be unwilling victims, “everything in this room comes under doctor-patient confidentiality okay? You're my nurse now, everything you hear is to be kept private. And keep it professional, you may be surprised how many of these men have STIs. If I hear a single laugh while I'm looking at someone's dick I'll have Killer drown you, got it?”

“Genitals don't phase me, most of the showers in the marines were mixed gender,” she shrugged, “you may be surprised to hear how many dicks I've come face first with to check for UTIs”

“Okay, good, we should have no issues then,” he said, “get off the desk, it's not professional. Sit in my chair till I need your assistance. I'll be mostly on the stool anyway”

“Roger that, doc,” she gave a mock salute and slid off the desk as he left.

Yin really was surprised at how many henchmen had STIs, and by the time they were done she was sure she could recite Mohawk's safe sex spiel of the top of her head, word for word. A few henchmen had been suffering in silence with bad constipation, and one had a badly broken toe. The cabin boys were all relatively healthy, but Mohawk gave them all the safe sex talk anyway, since it wouldn't be long before they started getting curious about the women, and he desperately hoped he could keep them from turning in to disease-ridden henchmen. Some of them were already partaking, but had been lucky enough to not catch anything.

It was well in to the afternoon when they got to the officers and commanders. The officers were all healthy, being that they'd been on the ship long enough to have regular checkups and knew well to follow Mohawk's advice. Yin had to stand on the examination table to check Wire's head, since he was just so damn tall.

She was surprised to find during Heat's examination that he actually had several hidden piercings that she could see through his clothes while she scanned him. She didn't ask why his dick was pierced, it didn't seem like an appropriate medical question. Kid wasn't happy about being examined, and complained the whole time that he was too busy for this shit. Mohawk gave him a long, stern talking to about drinking less beer and more water, if he didn't want a repeat of yesterday. She hadn't realised that the metal arm didn't have a real arm inside, she'd just assumed it was some sort of cover. She bit back a gasp when he removed it so Mohawk could check the stump of what used to be an arm. The base had metal embedded in to it, assumedly to help the prosthetic stick. She did her best to not gawk.

Last up was Killer, who they had to wait quite long for since he had been busy with some new recipe he had wanted to try that required being cooked slowly for many hours. He smelled of freshly cut herbs and bread when he entered, mixed with his usual scent of musk and spices. He locked the door as he entered, and Yin came to the jarring realisation that he was probably going to need to remove his mask. Mohawk went through his usual line of questioning before standing in front of Killer, he was too tall to examine from the stool. He did the same flexibility and grip strength tests he'd done for everyone else, and tapped his knees with a little hammer to check reaction times, before picking up his otoscope and turning to Yin expectantly.

“Right, sorry,” she said, turning and facing the wall. She heard something click and hair rustling as Killer removed his mask. “Hey um.. should I examine his head while the mask is off? I can't see his face if I'm scanning him, I promise”

“My head is fine,” Killer said flatly.

“I'm making notes of old injuries as well though, its important for my records,” Mohawk explained, “she's fast, it'll only take her a moment to check your head if nothing is wrong”

“Fine,” he sighed, “as long as she can't see”

“If my visor is dark green or red, I can't see you, just your insides,” she said, “to be honest I can only make out faces when its purple or like a neon green”

“Neon green is what you had when you killed the seaking right?” Killer asked, “is that some sort of night vision?”

“Yeah,” she explained, still awkwardly facing the wall, “and I can see pretty deep in the water as well, thats how I saw the seaking. I'm gonna turn around now, okay? I'll only be able to see your bones”

“Okay,” he replied. Mohawk finished checking Killer's eyes and stepped aside for her. She couldn't see well, but she'd spent all day in the room so she knew there was no furniture between them, and she could see their skeletons, the metal base of the examination bed, and Killer's mask sitting on the bed bedside him. She used what she could see as a guide to carefully make her way over, but she couldn't see the floor so her steps were awkward and she tripped.

“Woah, careful,” Mohawk said as he caught her, “what's wrong with you?”

“Can't see the floor,” she laughed, “I can only really see your bones and the metal things in the room, like Killer's mask and the base of the bed. Hard to walk without a floor”

She righted herself and stood carefully in front of Killer, who was definitely too tall. “You're too big, I'm gonna need to get on the table,” she climbed up on the side of him that didn't hold his mask, thankful that the base was metal and the mattress was thin so she could even see what she was doing. In her mind she was adding thickness to all the things she could see to account for what she couldn't.

“Ah- my hair-” Killer growled and pulled away, she'd unknowingly knelt on his long blond locks that had been resting against the bed.

“Fuck, sorry Kil,” she said, kneeling behind him, “I couldn't see it”

“It's fine, just get it over with,” he muttered, pulling his hair over his shoulder to the front so she couldn't catch it again.

“Is it okay if I touch you?” She asked as professionally as she could, “I need to turn your head”

“That's fine,” he replied.

She put her hands gently on either side of his head, carefully turning it and moving her hands around as she examined. It felt like he had thick bangs over his forehead, which definitely surprised her.

“Fuck you have a lot of old fractures for someone who wears a helmet,” she noted, “I can see… seven, Mohawk, if you want to note that down”

“Got it,” he replied, scribbling in his notes.

She turned Killer's face to look at her, her thumbs tracing his cheeks as she inspected them. She didn't even realise how intimate she was being, it was a natural process for her. His jawline seemed strong and his cheekbones looked prominent, if she had to guess she'd say he must have a sharp, attractive face. It looked symmetrical at the bone level, but who knows what kind of scars or deformities he might have on top that caused him to wear a mask.

“Old fracture on the left cheek as well,” she said, “I'd bet good money Kid did that”

“It'd be a winning bet,” he replied, suppressing a smile. Mohawk was busy with his notes, and she couldn't actually see his face, but he felt exposed anyway, and he didn't want anyone to see his ugly smile - the real reason he wore a mask.

“I'm gonna switch to red now okay?” She said, removing one of her hands from his face to fiddle with her mask. The visor turned red and her hand returned to his face, “Nothing of note on the front, eyes look healthy, frontal lobe looks fine,” she turned his head and made her way around, checking the side, then the back, then the other side. She paused, holding his head firmly in place. “Mohawk?”

“Mmm?” He looked up from his notes.

“There's something here, on the outside, towards the base of the neck,” she said, running her hand through Killer's hair and pulling it gently aside to clear the area she wanted Mohawk to check, “right here,” she pointed as she saw the bag of organs and veins that formed Mohawk stand beside the bed.

“It looks like a small cyst,” he said, prodding it with a gloved hand, “Killer I thought I told you to let me know if your mask did shit like this, it looks like it's about where the edge would rub”

“It's nothing,” he pulled Yin's hand out of his hair, entirely ignoring how nice her delicate hands felt woven through his locks, “I was just gonna deal with it myself”

Mohawk sighed and returned to his desk, “you're staying when she's done checking you over, so I can deal with that. It needs draining”

“I have shit to do,” Killer grumbled.

“Will you stop being a baby and let him do his job?” Yin scowled as she slid off the bed carefully, “now stand up so I can finish the scan, you can put your mask back on but I still have to check the rest of you”

He sighed and put his mask back in place before unwillingly standing, she tugged his arm to pull him further from the bed so she could walk all the way around him and quickly went about her scan, checking his bones first, then switching back to the red mode. She lifted his left arm as she checked his side.

“Your heart is beating a little fast Kil, you okay?” She noted.

“His heart rate was fine before,” Mohawk mused, quirking an eyebrow at Killer, who scowled under his mask at the clear insinuation.

“I'm just pissed off, now hurry the fuck up and quit touching me,” he growled.

“Anddd mister grumpymask is back,” she smiled, “relax, I'm done. He's all clear, doc, fit as a fiddle”

“Good, thats everyone then,” Mohawk said as he made a few last notes and stood to start collecting the supplies he needed for Killer's cyst, “you can go, Yin, thank you for your help. It won't always be this much work, I promise”

“Its fine,” she replied, unlocking the door to leave, “this was fun, I was happy to help. See you two at dinner,” she sung as she left. Mohawk gave her a weak goodbye, and Killer remained quiet.

Dinner wasn't far off, in fact by the time Mohawk was done with Killer it was time to head to the dining hall. Everyone else was already there, and Killer quickly finished off the special recipe of slow cooked beef and beer stew that he'd been working on earlier, with several fresh loaves of sourdough he'd made earlier to go with it.

“Anything of importance to report from the annuals?” Kid asked Mohawk as he dipped his bread in the hearty stew.

“Just that your henchmen need to keep it in their pants if they can't learn to use a rubber,” Mohawk sighed.

“The usual then,” Kid laughed, “dirty cunts”

“Oi, Yin,” Wire interjected, “I've got a question for you”

“Hit me,” she replied with a smile, inhaling another mouthful of the delicious stew - Killer's cooking really was the best she'd ever had.

“How did you know anything about us or our reputation if you've been locked away for the last five years?” He asked in a serious tone. It felt like an integration, like he was about to crack open that everything she'd told them was a lie, “you knew who Heat and I were, you knew the Captain and Killer, you said you knew you'd fit in here. But you've been in a cell for the last five years, and we only got our first bounties a few years ago”

Eveyone else turned and stared at her, and Kid stopped eating entirely, mulling it over in his head and coming to the same realisation Wire had, that the dots didn't connect. “How did you know about us?” Kid was almost growling, it felt like a threat.

She sighed and put down her spoon, looking across the table at Killer's expressionless mask, like he could offer some sort of support. “You really want to know? You're not gonna like the answer”

“Answer the fucking question,” Kid said sternly, grinding his teeth.

“Okay, fuck, don't bite my fucking head off. I'd been with the commodore you found me with for most of my imprisonment, and I guess you could say he was a fan of yours,” she explained, careful to speak to Kid directly, so as not to incur any further wrath from him, “when you came on to the grandline he started getting a bit obsessed. Every time he came to… visit me… he would tell me about your crew, and the big promotion he was gonna get when he took you down. Which is ironic, in hindsight. Anyway at some point he started bringing in your bounty posters, the four of you, mostly Kid's, and he'd use them against me if I wasn't obediently letting him have his way with me. He'd say shit like ‘you're so lucky you have me here to protect you and make you feel so good’ and then he'd wave Kid's poster in my face and say ‘this cunt would rip your legs off just so he could fuck the bloody holes left behind, he'd rape you to death and then he'd keep going. His whole crew would rape your dead body till you were nothing but a pile of rotting bones’. Sometimes he'd leave the posters in the cell with me, to remind me of my place, so I got familiar with your faces. Of course I never believed that shit, it wasn't hard for me to see that the marines are the bad people in this world, I've seen pirates as the good guys for a long time now. The second Kid let me go the day you found me, I knew I was right and the commodore was full of shit. Not that I think there aren't pirates that rape, I just knew for sure that you guys didn't. Anyway, yeah. That's how.”

Kid was visibly angry, not at her but at the commodore, as he tore a huge chunk of bread from an untouched loaf and dipped it with a little too much force in to his stew, making liquid spill out around the edges of the bowl, “Fucker…” he said through a full mouth.

“I did say you wouldn't like it,” she grumbled, looking mournfully at her stew. She no longer had any appetite but forced herself to keep eating anyway. She didn't want to offend Killer by not finishing the food he'd made them.

“Sorry,” Wire said solemnly, “I shouldn't have pried”

“It's okay Wire,” she forced a smile for him, “I get it. I'm a stranger, you don't trust me, and things didn't add up. You were just protecting the crew. I hope you'll come to trust me, in time, like I'm trying my best to learn to trust all of you”

“Trust is hard earned,” Killer added plainly.

“You think I don't know that?” She almost yelled in clear annoyance. Heat spooked a little as she slammed a closed fist on the table, “You think its easy for me to be sitting here on a ship full of men when every man who has every touched me has raped me? You think I don't know how hard it is to learn to trust someone? Cut me some fucking slack, Killer”

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

“I'm not very hungry anymore,” she said, frustrated and angry. She felt like she was being treated like the enemy, and she'd done nothing to deserve it. She'd been working hard every day to earn their trust, and she felt brushed off. “Sorry, the food was delicious Killer, I'm just… not hungry anymore”

“Leave the bowl, I'll finish it,” Kid told her. He grabbed her hand before she left, “you'll have our trust, Killer's is just a little harder to earn. You're doing good work here, just give it time. I hope I can earn your trust as well, as your Captain”

“Thanks, Kid,” she sighed as he let her hand go. She didn't say anything more, and they watched as she quickly disappeared out of the galley and the doors swung shut behind her.

[NEXT CHAPTER]

[calxia]

By chance do you have any thoughts on Aether and Phantom or anything with Phantom and the older ghouls? I'm quite curious to see your take on it.

I still have yet to give my anonymous self a name.

- Curious Nameless Anon

One day I'll actually learn how to control myself when writing asks but that day is not today so have almost 1k of build-up to Phantom meeting Omega for the first time Anon!

Phantom’s not very good at his quintessence magic.

He was summoned from the pit during a time when there were no quintessence ghouls in the abbey to teach him, and even back in the pit his magic had only just settled into being. There was Swiss, who knew some basic quintessence skills, but Phantom couldn’t ask him about it after the rough start he had with the others. It was fine. Phantom handled having little control of his magic just fine.

Like yeah sometimes he would accidentally jolt people with pure quintessence if they got too close, and yeah, he couldn’t even heal a papercut or slightly ease a headache, but he managed. He’d never accidentally scorched someone with it and he’d never melted someone’s brain accidentally so it was all good. And sure, he couldn’t really switch off the whole quintessence empath thing but it was only overwhelming some of the time. He had been handling it just fine for the tour anyway so who cared if he couldn’t do what others could?

Copia apparently.

When they returned from the tour for their winter break all the band ghouls got assigned their chores, but instead of getting a chore assigned Phantom was pulled into Copia’s office. Papa looked exhausted from the tour and seemed like he had aged 10 years from where he was sitting hunched over at his desk. The young ghoul stood in front of him nervously playing with his tail. He was too anxious to sit down. Why had only he been called into Papa’s office? And why did everyone else get their assigned chores but not him?

“Do you know why I’ve called you into my office Phantom?” asked Copia. The ghoul shook his head briskly and shifted anxiously where he stood.

“Normally, quintessence ghouls will help out in the medical wing while not touring,” started Papa,” However am I right in saying that you do not have the skills or experience to be of any use there?”

Phantom tucked his head down in shame. He knew that he wasn’t useful to the clergy outside of being a kind of decent guitarist, but Copia saying it out loud made it hurt even more. He was hardly even a good ghoul, let alone a good quintessence ghoul. He couldn’t even do the basic skills that most quint kits could do because he’d never had anyone to teach him in the pit.

“Aether and Omega are due back next week, so you will be put on cleaning duty until then and they will train you when you return. We need to get you all trained up before the higher-ups realise you are unskilled, si?” Copia said.

He froze. He’d heard so much about the older quintessence ghouls in their absence. He had been summoned to take over for Aether after a tuberculosis outbreak had decimated one of their sister chapels and the two elder ghouls had been sent over to help tend to the sick and dying. They had already left the ministry before he’d taken his first breath surface side so he had never met them. They were highly respected and loved by the clergy, and even more respected and loved by the current and past band ghouls. Phantom had been present for many of Special’s rambling speeches about how much he missed Omega and how Omega was one of his favourite ghouls.

He was nervous about studying under two such renowned ghouls, but it was necessary. If the higher-ups found out just how useless he is he’d be sent back to the pit no matter how well he played. He could only hope that they would be kind and patient with him.

The week passed quickly. Phantom spent his time flitting between his cleaning duty and practising what little he could do with his magic. He’d gotten to the point where he could form little harmless sparks of magic across his body, but this was hardly useful in the long run. The band quarters were empty. Everyone was busy greeting their returning pack members but Phantom had elected to stay in his lonely room. Why should he go and disrupt the reunions when he had never met them before?

A sharp knock echoed through his room, and Phantom paused where he was idly strumming on his guitar in thought. All the ghouls should have been celebrating the return of the quintessence ghouls so why was someone knocking on his door? He placed the guitar on his bed before opening his door.

A tall broad ghoul blocked the doorway. He rippled with millennia-old wisdom and power, yet still had a somewhat calming and kind air to him. Phantom shrunk back a little and peered up at the other through his salt and pepper fringe.

“They warned me that you were young, but they didn’t quite tell me that you were barely old enough to be separated from your birth pack.” Stated the ghoul, his voice rich and velvety in a soothing way.

“No wonder you don’t know any quintessence control then Kid.”

At that statement, he lifted his hand to let it rest between Phantom’s horns. The younger relaxed under the soft, familial touch and rumbled out a quiet purr. The larger ghoul chuckled and started to run his fingers through the soft curls.

“Don’t worry, me and Aether will make sure you learn everything you’ll ever need to know kit.” And with that Aether let the smallest trickle of quintessence touch Phantom and watched all the tension drain from his form.

Omega may not have been around for the quintessence ghoul’s first few months, but he sure as hell was going to make sure that such a sweet ghoul would be treated well from that point onwards.