#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.

[thinking-emoji]

RNZ interview mirror - the original file is exactly 700 kb too big for tumblr so I had to compress it slightly 🙃

Transcript under the cut!

YouTube megastars Dan and Phil will be coming to Aotearoa next week with a live show full of scandalous stories. For those who don't know them, these two Brits invented being internet famous. Coming to stardom in 2009, the pair have amassed a media empire with over 40 million combined followers, 2 billion views on YouTube, as well as a handful of best-selling books. Dan and Phil went on hiatus in 2018, with each coming out as gay soon after. This is their first tour together since then. The show is called Terrible Influence and it's coming to Auckland's Kiri Te Kanawa Theatre next Thursday, the 19th of December. I caught up with Dan and Phil earlier on the line from Australia.

DnP: Hello.

(Interviewer laughs)

D: Sorry, was that a weird stereo hello there? That must have been disturbing.

I: That's exactly how I wanted you to answer the call.

P: Yes, that's how we speak all the time. D: We share one braincell.

I: You speak in unison.

P: Yes. (laughs)

I: Because you two have lived together for quite some time, haven't you? D: We have. I: Not only working together for many years.

D: Yeah, like imagine like being really fed up with your co-worker and then you want to come home and you want to be like, God, this guy, I can't stand him. Like, what are we doing here, people?

P: Then he's in your house.

I: How long have you lived together for?

D: Errr, fourteen- P: No. D: No, thirteen- twel- P: Twelve years. I want to say twelve years. D: Twelve years, but it feels like 2000. Do you know what I mean? P: Time is not real. We don't know what's going on. D: At this point, we're like, you know, when you go to a zoo and there's two elderly tortoises that are about 400 years old. P: Yeah. D: That's how we feel. P: Yeah.

I: I'm glad that you've decided to, you know, take air travel to get to New Zealand.

D: It's literally the furthest place from home we could ever. So we get some tweets from people that are like, Dan and Phil, thank you for coming to New Zealand because, by golly, you've travelled a bit of a way. But hey, we're happy to be there. New Zealand is a beautiful country. P: Yes. D: And so are the people.

P: Whenever I come to New Zealand, I just want to move to New Zealand. I'm like, why am I in London when I could be in this beautiful, verdant land?

D: A lot of people do abandon for New Zealand and we understand why.

I: Yeah. Yeah. I'm glad that you do understand that. And it's your first big tour back since coming out in 2018. D: It is. I: The show is kind of a little bit like a gossip session. Is that right? Setting some things straight?

D: Absolutely. We're people that have been on the internet for a very long time and people have talked a lot of smack about us over the years, as a lot of people do with anyone with a lot of followers. And we're like, you know what? We all deserve to look back at our past. We all deserve to be roasted for the things that we did and said. That includes us being embarrassing and what our audience were like when they were all teenagers on the internet. But if we have a bit of a therapy session slash Catholic confession, we can end it with a bit of a hug and a pat on the back and go, it's okay. We survived. Here we are now in 2024. So it's like a roast and a healing session at the same time.

I: That must be quite an interesting thing because, you know, you both grew up on the internet and made so much content. You have this huge following that you've built. And so many people work really hard to kind of erase their former selves online. And that's probably something that you cannot do.

D: Oh, no. I would love to. It's too late. P: That's the thing as well. Sometimes our audience know us better than we know ourselves because they watch these videos so much. I never watch my videos back ever. So they'll come up to us at a meet and greet like, remember that thing you did in 2014? I'm like, no. D: No, I don't. P: I don't know what I said or did. D: But Phil, you love this ice cream flavour. P: Yeah. Speaking of ice cream, I'm excited for the Hokey Pokey ice cream. That was the thing I remember in New Zealand. I: It is good.

D: Yeah. Someone said, hey, you're excited to have it again. I was like, what was that? P: We don't have that. D: Don't you remember the time that you had it? P: No. D: Here, I've got this photo on my phone. P: Yeah. I'm going to have some more when I get there for sure.

D: That is not the main reason why we made the travel, but it will help with the jet lag.

P: It's 80% of the reason, I'll be honest.

I: Why is the show called Terrible Influence?

D: I think there's this idea that everyone on the internet, all these creators, all these TikTokers and podcasters are just horrible people that are trying to sell you some kind of crypto scam. And the truth is 90% of them are. And the question that we're asking is, were we terrible? What did we do to all these young people that watch it? Maybe the other question is, what did they do to us? Is what we do inherently bad? Is it a two-way street? Well, maybe we can answer that question and along the way just giggle so much that we kind of forgive and forget.

I: I'm sure you have a pretty good idea of the extent of your influence. But being in high school in New Zealand when Dan and Phil were first starting out, it was almost like a code word. (Dan laughs) It was how weirdos, kind of, identified with each other.

P: I think we've always been happy to kind of have representation for the slightly alternative people of the world.

D: Yeah, we like to joke that it's for the goths, the girls, the gays and the geeks. Any type of person that feels like on any level, they may not be completely mainstream. They may not be vanilla. They might feel other in any kind of way. We have an audience and we look out now because you understand when all these people were 14, it kind of looked like they were all teenagers. Now that they're all adults, some people are coming up to us, they're like, hi, Dan and Phil, meet my child. (laughs) But all these people have been in such different journeys in life. But it's knowing that, you know, back in the day, there was a place where no matter what kind of person they are, they felt like, you know what? Here in this comment section with these guys, I can just be myself and that makes me happy. I think whether that is something that we did do intentionally or it's an accidental byproduct of our influence, we'll take it.

P: And a lot of them have grown up with us as well. That's the lovely thing. So we're meeting people now that are just much older, but they're still watching the videos because we've- we've grown up and they've grown up as well.

I: Absolutely. And you took this hiatus, you know, from the internet. How long was that hiatus for and what was the impetus for it? And for coming back?

D: It was five dark years. P: Five years. D: And there was no Dan and Phil in the world until one day, like Jesus, we returned and here we are now.

P: We did. I think it's always a good thing to kind of have a moment where you're like, what's going on in life? Have a reset. And and I think we're kind of back now.

D: You know, like when everyone, you know, there was a pandemic and then they were like, you know what? My relationship, my job, you have decided it's not for me. I think we were trendsetters there. We did that early, voluntarily style, because we'd been going nonstop since 2009. And I was like, I just need to hit the brakes and look around for a little bit. And then I came back and I was like, hi, guys, I'm gay now. And they were like, ah, yes, that makes sense. But sometimes you have to hit the brake in life in order to take the space, look around you, take stock of things, make decisions. And ultimately, when you come back, it'll be healthier and happier.

P: And we didn't know this Dan and Phil thing- Like when we came back, we're like, do you guys still want these videos? And then, like, the reaction has been incredible, like, so many people watching the gaming channel. D: To the extent people thought Dan and Phil, you need to go on a tour right now. You need to get your butts all the way to Auckland (laughs) because I've been waiting for you to come back and we need to have a good night together. P: Yeah.

I: Yeah. And get out from behind the screen and kind of just interact face to face. You two are hugely into gaming and it's been quite a good pivot from YouTube to kind of try and be more successful, I guess. It's incredible how popular you are on these platforms. Can you tell me a little bit more about how that works and how you kind of make a career out of this?

D: Well, Phil's been doing it so long that he did it before YouTube could even monetize videos. He was doing it purely out of boredom and passion for the craft. P: Yeah. D: That's terrifying.

P: I'm a YouTube dinosaur. But I think with the gaming, we've got a Sims series, which we've got- how many episodes now? Like- D: Oh a hundred or so. P: A hundred episodes. And I think people follow along the journey with us playing the games. And it's like, I guess it's like when you were a little kid and you're watching your big brother play a video game. It's kind of that thing. You're just like watching along, having the bants. So I think what the people come to our videos for is more of the personality and us having a laugh rather than getting really into gaming.

D: Yeah! I mean, gaming is just the topic. It's like any type of TV or radio talk or commentary show, it could be about football, it could be about music and pop culture or the news, you just want to see people that you relate to, that you find entertaining, doing something that you find interesting and then you pair it together, and for lots of people they go: yeah! This is what i want to see P: Yeah.

I: Phil, how have you noticed the kind of gaming culture change over time, and was that something you're a little bit hesitant about, you know coming out as gay in that kind of domain, because we know generally that - you know, over the last decade-

D: The gamers are the worst demographic in the world absolutely- I: Things have changed. D: We’ve been on the internet since the ancient times and it's hard to say, like in a way obviously the internet these days, it feels like it's more terrible than ever, but in a sense it is a lot less toxic and a lot more wholesome and inclusive than it used to be.

P: Yeah, I'd say coming out on the internet is always going to be a scary thing, when you're saying that and being kind of vulnerable in front of so many people. Thankfully we've got such a great audience that the reaction was incredible, I would say.

D: And i think that what's great about the internet is that people can find their own communities, so even within spaces that you might think, oh they're dominated by this type of person – any subculture, any type of person that feels like, I want this space for myself – you can find it. If you want to order you know a ping pong club for girls with ginger hair called Susan that drink wine on a Tuesday, you can start that discord server, people will love it.

I: And I think it's nice to have those pocket on the internet where people can feel safe and can kind of commune together. You will be playing the Kiri Te Kanawa Theatre in Tāmaki Makaurau, Auckland, on December the 19th. What about people who didn't grow up watching you, who think you might be quite funny right now. Like what could you say to them if you want them to come to your show?

P: I'd say, well luckily for you we have got a whole section of the start of the show which is the complete history of Dan and Phil in five minutes, so if you might have just slightly known who we are and be like, what's going on with these guys? We're going to catch you up in no time.

D: A lot of people drag their boyfriends, their sisters, sometimes like that mum that you need to drive you so you can have a couple of cocktails to the show, and we're like we need something for these people, we're going to catch them up, we're going to get them on our side, and if we have a spot- there's like a grumpy dad folding his arms in row three, I'm like, I'm going to crack you P: but- D: My mission for the night is you're going to be belly laughing by the end. P: They're always smiling at the end though. That's the thing, we do. We do crack them.

I: Oh and this will be your last show before a well deserved Christmas break, then back into the new year. What will Christmas look like for both of you?

P: I mean we're going to try and get home for Christmas. D: Yeah, yeah the question is, can we get back from Auckland on the 21st of December? P: Twenty- yeah. I think it's gonna be a challenge to get all the way home, but then I'm probably just gonna be asleep on my mum's sofa with jet lag, hoping to drink a lot of cocktails. D: I'm gonna slip into a nice coma.

I: I'm really glad to hear you are back together again.

D: Oh, well thank you! We really, really appreciate it and we're so excited for the show, so thank you New Zealand. P: Nice speaking to you!

@dnp-described

[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.”

[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.

[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.

[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!

[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.

[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]

[blue-jisungs]

better man

warnings. cursing, bad mental health (?)

beomgyu had a tough time in his life. he had thought it was the darkest times of his life. his friends hadn’t been aware of anything since he refused to tell them. he had been struggling alone and somehow, he made it.

because that was before you. when you came into his life, it started getting colorful again. it was a slow but steady process and once beomgyu healed he never, ever wanted to feel like that again.

the thing was that he was an emotional wreck, felt like a shitty person. his heart was wild, uncontrollable and was bound to lead him on wrong paths.

but you saved him. you really did.

and even though beomgyu swore he won’t be in the same place again; in the darkest corners of his mind… he did.

it was after you broke up.

three years of dating you made beomgyu a completely new person. he was alive again, himself again.

the thing with human nature and relationships though, is that they are hard to control. he was having a harder time because of the tours, pressure and stress… and happened to snap. at you. the person he swore he’d never hurt.

you sat down at the couch, hesitantly reaching for his hand. beomgyu placed it away, head turning.

“we need to talk” you huffed, hurt by his action. and it’s just a beginning of this unpleasant journey…

“why?” he frowned, letting out a deep sigh.

“”why?” are you serious?” you asked calmly, trying to control the trembling tone of your voice “gyu, there’s something clearly bugging you and…”

“and what about it? just let me be, god…” beomgyu growled, finally looking at you

“listen. i care about you... remember when we met? because i do. you looked like death and behaved like an asshole, honestly. but what hurt me the most is that you didn’t want help… and that’s why it kept getting worse. so please… please, just talk to me. i don’t want you to feel so… sad again” you mumbled. you missed your goofy gyu. of course you knew that being a kpop idol is hard. you couldn’t imagine what he was going through with all that practice and stress but as his girlfriend you wanted to be there for him.

“so what? i don’t need your help. besides, you wouldn’t understand” he rolled his eyes, a sinking feeling in his heart that he should stop. he shouldn’t say those words, he shouldn’t… “you’d never get it”

“beomgyu don’t go too far. i’m not an idol nor i’ll ever be. i’m here to be a shoulder to cry on, not to get laughed at” you hissed.

“when will you understand i don’t need your help, god! i’m not feeling well right now but that doesn’t mean i need someone! i’m not a fucking baby, stop acting like i’m so fragile!” he bursted out, standing up from the couch.

“being in a relationship means caring about each other! i was there for you then, i’ll be now… unless you act like an selfish asshole! you think i’m not–“ you started, your chest getting heavier and heavier seconds before passed by.

“well maybe we shouldn’t have a relationship then” he blurted out, the room going quiet.

“what?” you whispered. you just didn’t understand that. he clearly wasn’t in the best mental place right now and instead of…

“i… i don’t know. i need to be alone right now” beomgyu said. oh.

you looked up at him, eyes watering.

“i see. well, good luck. i really wanted to help, beomgyu. but if you cared to listen you’d understand i wanted to help the both of us. i guess it’s not important since we’re not a thing anymore” you spat out, leaving the room in a hurry.

he stood there, speechless. his heart was beating like crazy, the reality just hitting him.

but it was too late.

everyday beomgyu woke up hoping it was just a bad dream, nightmare even. but when you didn’t answer his calls, texts and stopped showing up he realised how much he fucked up.

he was so frightened that he’ll go into the rabbit hole again. you said he was selfish but he felt the other way around. because if he was selfish then why you left him? when he was the one who clearly… was… not himself anymore.

it was even tougher than before. beomgyu was lifeless for the past half of year, even had to go on a hiatus. he thought he had it all – friends, fame, fans. the highest of highs. but without you in his life he realised how wrong he was; you came and topped them all.

and he knew he had to find you again. because you, y/n y/l, are the love of his life.

he was miserable, sure, but he had to pull himself together.

he was everywhere. in your favourite places, restaurants, bars. he was at every party. he just wouldn’t miss a chance, even if that meant a scandal.

and oh god, did his heart drop once he finally saw you. after a year. a quarter to three, some boring party at one friend’s of yours.

you were talking with someone (he didn’t really care), a playful smile on his lips. beomgyu felt like all the air in his lungs was gone, his mind blank. what… what should he even say? “hi it’s me… the guy you dated… well you were right but i was just dumb and scared and so not aware of how much i love you and…”

“gyu– beomgyu?”

he snapped back to reality, his eyes meeting yours.

“hi” he breathed out, his waterline mere moments from turning watery. thank god those red led lights hid that… and his red eyes, paleness and just the mess of the state he was in.

“what are your doing here–“ you started, hiding your hands in the pocket of your jeans to prevent him from seeing how shaky they are.

“can we talk? please… i… please.” beomgyu pleaded. you looked over at your friend who just shrugged.

“sure. let’s go outside” you mumbled, passing him by.

with a racing heart you left the club, the midnight air bringing a chilly breeze. or maybe it was the chills caused by anxiety of what this current situation is.

“its… good to see you again” beomgyu said quietly, looking at your face; almost devouring it. god, he missed you so much…

“what do you wanted to talk about?” you asked, turning your gaze away.

the truth was you didn’t feel good either. you realised that such an impulsive break up was an horrible idea but… a week passed by when beomgyu first called. a week too late and you made up your mind. because you, as selfish as it would sound, wouldn’t be able to see him in depressed state again. especially when he didn’t want help – he wasn’t only hurt by himself but he was also hurting others. and as much as you loved him, you would go down too.

“i’m so fucking sorry” he blurted out, taking a deep sigh “i know… it’s been some time. but i realised what i did wrong. i know i hurt you. and others. but… god, y/n… can i just be honest with you?”

there was a bitter comment about to leave your mouth but you halted. nodding hesitantly, you turned your gaze back onto him. and those damned brown, puppy eyes of his.

“with your love i’m a better man” he said, voice cracking “all my wrongs, they led me right to you”

your heart felt like it started melting; the cold ice disappeared and instead there was a strange… warmth

“wrapped in your arms, i swear i'd die for your love” he whispered, looking up and blinking a couple of times “you're the only one who could lock this wild heart up in chains… you're the only love that can make this bad man better”

“you’re not a bad man, beomgyu” you whispered, stepping closer.

“i am, y/n, i am. i’ve hurt you and my friends. it’s fucked up i say this just now but please… please, i beg . y/n don’t leave me again. i’m so sorry” he chocked up. upon meeting your teary eyes he broke down himself, melting.

you hugged him tightly, caressing his hair,

“i won’t. i promise, i won’t. i’m sorry too, beomie”

and just like that, an open wound in his heart that has been bleeding for what seemed like an eternity, started to heal. again.

txt masterlist | event masterlist

taglist.  @geniejunn ,, @luvhyun3 ,, @elviransworld  ,, @starlostseungmin ,, @jnks6r ,, @sieunsgf ,, @ethereallino ,, @laylasbunbunny ,, @duolingofanaccount ,, @slytherinshua ,, @stxrseungs ,, @ka-ni-ma ,, @iliveforlixie ,, @ameliesaysshoo ,, @dazzlingligth ,, @mark-geolli ,, @l3visbby ,, @w3bqrl ,, @ddeonudepressions ,, @yourfavoritefreakyhan ,, @mirxzii ,, @kazmura ,, @primoppang

[gloomysoup]

when the world stops turning (my heart stops beating) - pt. 2

so i decided not to be TOO mean and keep writing this... there will be at least one more part, maybe more, i haven't decided yet. honestly i'm just playing it by ear and seeing how far my brain chooses to take it. so here we go!!

ao3 pt. 1 pt. 2 pt. 3 pt. 4

cw: drugs, drug abuse, illusions to overdose, minor character death, dissociation, hospitals, illusions to child neglect (i think that's it but please let me know if i missed anything)

Eddie hated hospitals.

He sat in the waiting room with his bandmates and their tour manager, thinking about the first time he ever had to go to the hospital.

He was seven years old. His mom had been self-medicating really badly again, floating through their house like a ghost. Pale and lifeless in a way she often was those days. His dad was always out of the house, claiming he was working. Eddie had always been suspicious of that, never sure exactly what kind of work he was doing. His dad never said what his job was, but Eddie knew he had a long history with criminal activity. Wayne had taken him out to the park that day for a couple hours in an effort to get him out of the house.

The nearby park had this line of trees by the pond, set off several feet from the playground itself. Eddie liked to climb those trees when he was a kid. He liked the way the bark felt, digging sharply into his palms. He liked feeling the wind blow, the leaves brushing against his face. It made him feel free. The scary parts of the world couldn't reach him in the treetops. Earthly fears stayed near the ground, tethered to the dirt while he put as much distance between them as he could. Wayne had warned Eddie not to climb too high. Eddie should've listened.

He climbed a few branches up on the tallest tree. His favorite tree to climb. He sat on one of the thicker branches, back against the trunk. He watched the leaves waving in the wind above him. His brain still itched with ground thoughts, so he climbed higher. He kept going until he wasn't worried about his mom anymore. He kept going until his head was blissfully empty of those stupid anxieties. He was finally free.

And then he was falling.

Eddie doesn't remember much of what happened. Wayne says a branch broke unexpectedly, giving way beneath his weight with a loud snap. He hit the ground and passed out. Wayne took him to the hospital, where the doctors said he was lucky. A fall like that and all he had was a broken arm. They put his left arm in a cast and kept him for a few hours of observation, just to be safe. They were worried about a brain injury, or internal bleeding. Wayne called his mom, to let her know what happened, but Eddie always assumed she was too drugged out to understand. She never showed up. Wayne stayed with him the whole time, trying to keep him entertained and distracted. The doctor had given Eddie something to help with the pain, but it didn't help with his dislike of hospitals. He hated sitting in a sterile, white hospital room. His nose burned with the smell of bleach and lemon-scented floor cleaner. He didn't know why they used that stuff. It was overwhelming. He couldn't escape the ground thoughts if he was tethered to the ground.

Once he was finally released, Wayne took him to the pharmacy to pick up his new prescription. Pain meds; take one as needed while the break heals— those mysteriously went missing only three days later, and Eddie suffered in silence from then on. Then Wayne took him home, where his mom was asleep on the couch and his dad was fuming. Eddie vaguely remembers laying in his bed while Wayne and his dad argued in the living room. He isn't sure what they argued about; Wayne never told him and always changed the subject if Eddie asked. He assumed it was about the hospital. Hospital bills aren't cheap.

He wasn't allowed to visit his mom when she was in the hospital. Wayne said she needed space to get better. He knows Wayne just didn't want him around all of that. The hospital always kept him from his mom in one way or another. And then there was the spring of ‘86. It only further solidified his hatred of hospitals. Confined to the lumpy, scratchy hospital bed for weeks. Beeping machines and lemon-scented floor cleaner. Sticky patches and wires that always tangled. Itchy IVs and sharp needles and drugs that made him float just on the edge of too far. He didn't like those. Reminded him too much of his mom.

And now here he was, sitting in the dull waiting room of a hospital in New York. He felt numb. Tears still rolled silently down his cheeks, though he wasn't sure how he had any left. He was completely unaware of the passage of time. It could've been minutes or days, and he wouldn't have noticed. He couldn't stop thinking about his mom. He hadn't thought about her this much in years.

“Eddie?” He looked up at Gareth, but he was barely seeing him. “I'm going to go call Wayne, let him know what's happening. Do you want to come talk to him?”

Eddie blinked slowly a few times, his eyes still glassy. He didn't answer. All he did was stare, unseeing and silent. Gareth sighed, shooting Jeff and Grant a look.

Jeff frowned, also standing. “I should call Robin. She should know too.”

“Go,” Grant said, nodding toward the phones. “I’ll keep an eye on him.”

Their tour manager was talking to a nurse a few feet away. Eddie couldn't hear what they were saying. He didn't know how this could've happened. He didn't understand how he missed this.

His thoughts wandered back to the day Wayne found out he was selling.

Eddie sat on the front step, watching Wayne and Hopper talking in the yard. Wayne was frowning, nodding along to whatever Hopper said. Eddie knew he was mad. Why wouldn't he be? Eddie was illegally selling drugs, and just got caught by the chief for it. Luckily, Hopper was in a good enough mood just to give him a warning and a ride home. Made him promise he wasn't going to do it anymore. They both knew that was a lie.

When Hopper got back in his cruiser and drove away, Eddie watched Wayne take a breath before he turned around. Eddie shrank back at the look his uncle gave him.

“Wayne, I-”

“Hush up.” Eddie shut up instantly. “You're gonna listen close, understood?” Eddie nodded. “Jim was kind enough to let you off this time, but he won't be next time. There better not be a next time.”

“But, Wayne, I-”

“No buts.” Wayne gave him another look. Eddie knew he was disappointed. He hated disappointing Wayne. Hated it even more than he hated making Wayne mad. His uncle had always done so much for him. The least he could've done was not cause trouble. “Drugs are a dangerous thing, Ed. I know you know that.”

He did know, is the thing. He knew better than most people just how dangerous drugs were. Drugs tore his family apart. Drugs killed his mother. Drugs were the main reason Eddie lived with Wayne at all.

Eddie looked down at his hands, fiddling with one of his rings. He didn't have all that many yet. “I just wanted to help with the bills,” he said softly.

Wayne sighed and sat next to him on the rickety steps. Eddie slid over to make room. “You ain't gotta worry ‘bout no damn bills, Ed. That's for me to take care of. You just gotta be a kid.”

Eddie frowned. “I just thought that, maybe, if I could help, you wouldn't have to work so hard. I know taking care of me is a lot of extra money.” He paused. “I'm sorry I'm such a disappointment.”

Burden. That's what he wants to say. Disappointment is what comes out. Maybe that's for the better.

“You're not a disappointment, Ed. I just don't want you endin' up like your mama, that's all. And while I do appreciate you wantin’ to help, I don't need ya to. I'm perfectly capable of takin’ care of us. You're fifteen, Ed. Be a kid, for Christ’s sake. Don't worry ‘bout anythin’ else yet.”

From that day on, Eddie stayed away from anything harder than weed or the occasional shrooms. He made a promise to himself that he'd stay away from it. For Wayne. For his mom. Wayne knew he kept selling, but they didn't talk about it. The K he intended on selling Chrissy that fateful night was a fluke. A one-off. It was something extra Rick had given him before he got locked away. Eddie hadn't even intended on selling it at all; he was just going to keep it hidden away until Rick got out, and then he'd give it back.

After Chrissy, Eddie didn't touch anything for a long time. When the band got themselves a record deal, when they started going out to parties to network with more of the industry, Eddie started smoking weed again. He never touched anything more than that. He knew better. He worried about his bandmates falling to the same vices that killed his mom, even though they also stayed away from it. Her ghost still haunted him. It kept him hypervigilant. He was always watching for addictive behaviors.

So how did he not see it?

How long had Steve been falling down that path without Eddie even knowing?

He should've known.

Eddie blinked, and Gareth was standing in front of him with a bottle of water. When had he come back?

“Eddie, you gotta drink something,” Gareth said gently, holding the open bottle toward him. Eddie pulled his knees tightly to his chest and shook his head. Gareth sighed and sat next to him in the uncomfortable hospital chairs.

That was another thing Eddie hated about hospitals. Everything was uncomfortable. The chairs, the beds, the wires and tubes. IVs itched and the gowns crinkled weirdly. It was a sensory hellscape, truthfully. How did anyone handle it?

“Eddie.” He blinked again, looking beside him. Gareth was still holding the bottle toward him. “Come on, man. At least a little bit. We're worried about you.”

Eddie took the bottle, but his hands were shaking so much he could barely keep a grasp on it. He forced it toward his mouth, his throat burning as the cool water slipped past his lips. He gave it back to Gareth. He looked like he wanted Eddie to drink more, but took the bottle anyway.

“Are you…” Gareth started, but his sentence fell off as he seemed to search for the correct word. “Obviously not okay. That'd be stupid. Of course you aren't okay. I don't know what I was even thinking.” He looked over at Eddie, his rambling cut off.

Gareth always rambled when he was anxious. Worried. It didn't happen all that often. Gareth was pretty laid back, never worked up about much. The exact opposite of Steve. Steve worried about everything. Steve rambled a lot, like Robin. God, Robin. Eddie should talk to her. They hadn't had time lately to call. She was probably worried. Eddie could easily bet she'd been rambling a lot lately. Then again, Robin always rambled. She wasn't like Gareth, who only rambled when he was worried about something or someone. Speaking of Gareth, he was sitting there staring at Eddie with that worried little pinch in his brows. Eddie should answer. He should, but he can't. His tongue feels like lead in his mouth. It won't form shapes or push air through his lips. It won't do anything it's supposed to do. It just sits there, heavy, making it impossible for Eddie to say something, anything.

“Eddie?” Gareth waved a hand in front of him. Eddie blinked. “Did you hear anything I just said?”

Eddie thought hard. Gareth’s mouth had definitely been moving just a few moments before, but anything after the ramble was lost on him. He had no clue what he had said. He shook his head. Gareth sighed.

“I talked to Wayne.”

Oh. Wayne.

God, Eddie didn't know how to feel about that. On the one hand, he needed Wayne. The man was a solid figure in the storm of Eddie’s life. He had always been there. He never walked away like Eddie’s dad. Eddie wanted little more than to curl up on the lumpy couch with Wayne like he had after his mom died. On the other hand, Eddie didn't want Wayne to know about any of this. He didn't want Wayne to have to live through this again. He didn't want Wayne to feel like he had to deal with Eddie again.

“He said he’ll try to catch the next flight out.”

Eddie’s head snapped up, eyes wide. He quickly shook his head back and forth, so hard that his neck popped and his hair flung across his face. Wayne couldn't come. He shouldn't have to. He would have to call out of work. Wayne never calls out of work. Eddie didn't want to be the reason he started. He opened his mouth to protest, but nothing came out. He couldn't force his tongue to move. His lips failed to form the letters and syllables required to speak.

It was then that their tour manager approached, looking somber. Like he had bad news. Eddie wanted to be anywhere else. He wanted to go back; back to when things were simple and Steve wasn't dying. He wanted to go back to being a kid and stop his mom. He just wanted this to stop.

“Eddie, he's alive.”

Eddie hated that instead of being relieved, his heart crumbled.

Steve was alive, but at what cost?

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

tag list: @acowardinmordor @mugloversonly @djohawke @hallucinatedjosten @geekyfifi @current-steddie-brainrot

i tagged people who either asked to be tagged or showed interest in wanting more but lemme know if you wanna be added! like i said, there will be at least one more part, but probably more than that tbh

hope you've enjoyed !!