#making himself sound more gay in the process

[stervrucht]

Robin steals Steve's phone and changes his auto-correct so 'good' gets changed to 'gay'.

Eddie texts Steve how he's doing and Steve, busy at work, quickly replies 'I'm good' before putting his phone away again until the end of his shift.

When he checks his phone a couple of hours later he has 22 new messages, all of them Eddie.

[unproduciblesmackdown]

yeah speaking of the most personal instrument of death / brutal vengeful catharsis gay sex foil confrontation. the musician gets got by lo cocodrilo? respectively, give him a kiss

[rallamajoop]

So why are there so many gay vampires?

From the time of Carmilla all the way up to the works of Anne Rice (a universe that seems to get only less subtle as the years go on), gay vampires have been a thing basically as long as anyone was writing about vampires. Lesbian vampires have been a genre all their own for decades. Bram Stoker, author of the most famous vampire novel ever written, was gay himself. So why vampires specifically?

I’ve seen people attempt to answer this one before, and there are all sorts of contributing factors I could point to here, from the genres’ beginnings with Lord Byron (infamous bisexual disaster fuckboy), to modern discourse about why queer folks so often find themselves identifying with the monsters and outcasts of fiction. Few other monsters besides vampires can so easily pass for ‘normal’, or are nearly so well known for their snappy dress sense and ‘unnatural cravings’ for human flesh. And that’s without even getting into all those skeezy outdated stereotypes casting queer people as predators, or the idea that even one ‘gay experience’ could somehow ‘convert’ you into being one yourself.

But to my mind, there’s just one really important thing that makes vampires so gay, and it’s the same thing that makes them sexy in the first place: plausible deniability.

You see, a vampire’s bite is simultaneously a) ridiculously sexual, and b) not even a little bit sexual at all.

You don’t have to look far for vampire canons where there’s nothing sexy about being bitten by a vampire. Bloody, violent, painful, sure ‒or just clinically miserable, human bodies torn open or hung up to drain like a human blood bag. What’s sexy about getting bitten by a mosquito, or a fecking leech? The diet of the actual vampire bat requires it to process so much water that it apparently spends mealtimes busily pissing out the difference, and the anti-coagulants in its saliva leave the wound bleeding messily long after it’s gone. The basic act of feeding is no more inherently sexual for a vampire than it is for a zombie.

Vampires are even a surprisingly acceptable monster to market to children. There’s a vampire muppet, a cartoon about a vampire duck, and a whole series of books about a vampire rabbit. You can put a vampire on the side of a cereal box without undue outrage. Vampires do not have to be R-rated for sex or violence.

So of course vampires will go after victims of the same sex. Do you stop to inquire whether the cow you’re eating was male or female? It’s all just predator and prey!

Until it’s everything but.

Do not let the ‘vampires aren’t supposed to be sexy!’-purists fool you. The tradition of sexy vampires goes all the way back to the oldest folklore, where the first victim of a newly-risen vampire was often their still-living spouse. Vampires were even occasionally known to get women pregnant (a convenient excuse for any widow who might turn up pregnant slightly too many months after their husband's death). The ‘original’ Nosferatu sounds more like an incubus than the naked mole-rat creature they made that movie about. The demon lover aspect of the vampire has been there all along.

And it’s not hard to imagine why. If someone is biting and sucking on your neck, then either they’re a vampire, or they’re well on the way to second base (other folklore has its vampires feed directly from their victim’s heart, which is scarcely less suggestive). The implications of an exchange of bodily fluids were never subtle, even in Stoker’s day (I'm looking at you, Lucy-with-the-three-husbands), and the vampire as a sexual predator was a popular literary device well before Stoker's time. Beautiful vampire women would seduce men to their demise, and the males of the species might visit the bedroom of some innocent maiden time and again. The Victorian obsession with mesmerism, meanwhile, provided the perfect explanation for how victims might be hypnotised into eager compliance, and perhaps not even remember being fed upon at all. Vampires have been the ultimate guilt-free sexual fantasy since way back in the day, compatible with all your awkward Victorian mores! (Not quite ready to admit they're sexual fantasies? No problem: he's just here to, y'know, suck on your neck a bit. No subtext here!)

The whole act of biting is so suggestive that in the early years of vampire cinema, it wasn’t shown at all, not even between opposite-sex participants. The camera of 1922’s Nosferatu maintains a demure distance during the climactic scene where the heroine is finally bitten and slowly drained of blood, and Universal’s Dracula conveniently fades to black or cuts away whenever it’s about to take place. But even if the biting has to take place off screen, who’s to say a vampire isn’t going to pick victims of both sexes?

The stately tradition of the lesbian vampire has cinematic examples going all the way back to 1936, with Universal’s Dracula’s Daughter. Though the titular vampire has a nominal male love interest – a psychologist who naively advises her to confront her temptations without fear – the result of his advice is a famous sequence where she picks up a young woman under the premise of wanting an artist's model, and convinces her to remove her top. No actual biting or nudity is shown (it was only 1936), but her fate is left in little doubt.

By the era of 70’s sexploitation, all such subtlety had been abandoned. If we’re all good with naked boobs, who’s going to be offended by a little biting?

In fact, when it comes to men rather than women, a vampire bite was, for many years, far too sexy to be shown, or even alluded to. Nosferatu clearly feeds on that film’s Jonathan-expy, but our only evidence is the bitemarks on his neck in the morning, and the final sacrifice to defeat the evil monster must naturally be female. Universal’s Dracula had to ignore explicit studio mandate that only the brides should be allowed to feed on their own Jonathan-equivalent, as to even imply that Dracula himself had fed upon a man was obviously far too homoerotic to contemplate (never mind that it’s Dracula who must be established as the threat in this opening sequence, or that it’s Dracula his victim will spend the rest of the film obsessed with).

But in that unspeakable land of male-on-male homoeroticism, you might be surprised how much homo we can squeeze in even without resorting to fangs-in-necks. The Lost Boys is surely one of the most homoerotic vampire films ever made, but there, the one big blood-drinking scene is rendered in a bloody massacre of slasher-movie violence. And though Anne Rice certainly describes the scene where Lestat drains Louis of blood in lurid detail (and even has them spend their first sunrise together sharing a coffin), Louis is already thoroughly seduced before he ever reaches this point.

You see, the lore of the pop-cultural vampire conveniently comes with a second and equally-compelling target for plausible deniability: the act of making a new vampire.

Obviously, to work, this has to be deliberate. A world where anyone bitten by a vampire becomes one hasn’t much to offer us, and the relationship between maker and fledgling can just as easily be framed as parental, as recruitment into a cult, or purely transactional. But whichever way you twist it, the implications of choosing another to share in your own eternal youth and immortality… like, I don’t have to spell this one out for you, do I? Did I mention how that thing where a vampire’s traditional first victim tended to be their own mortal widow goes all the way back?

But if we’re not ready to be completely obvious with our mainstream audience, some alternative explanation can always be provided for cover. Lestat doesn’t really want Louis, he just wants Louis’ money! (He also really wants Louis.) The Lost Boys just want Michael to join their gang! (Their very, very pretty gang, who swan around in mesh shirts, tank tops and assless chaps.)

The two sides of the vampire-deniability coin aren’t mutually exclusive, either. Carmilla drinks her new paramour’s blood, but also gazes into her eyes while promising her you will be mine. Drinking blood is a key part of making a new vampire in so many vampire stories, after all.

Carmilla isn’t even the only gay vampire story of the Victorian era. I recently posted about two other fascinating examples, both featuring male/male pairings: one being pretty much just a gender-flipped version of Carmilla, and the other a tragic love story filled with significant "vampire = gay lover" metaphors (why oh why must the townsfolk keep us apart, when we’ll only ever be happy once we’re united once more?) This stuff goes surprisingly far back.

In fact, you can find queer subtext in vampire fiction that predates even Byron and Polidori. 1819's The Vampyre was the first published vampire story, yes, but the first known work of vampire-fiction in the English language is a poem published by John Stagg in 1810, also called The Vampyre (look, the genre didn’t exist yet, you didn’t have to be creative with your titles).

In brief, Stagg’s poem recounts a conversation between a wife (Gertrude) and her dying husband (Herman), whose dear friend Sigismund, lately deceased and deeply mourned, has returned as a vampire. Night after night, he crawls into Herman’s room to drain his blood. Herman’s fate is already sealed, but unless Gertrude takes action, it will surely be she that Herman will take as his own first victim when he rises from the grave.

There may be nothing intentional about the queer subtext of this tale. A vampire’s victims often include friends he knew in life, as Stagg himself cites in his introduction. But if Herman’s first victim will be his wife, what are we to read about the fact Sigismund’s first victim is Herman? Especially given how long he’s kept secret from poor Gertrude that his dear ‘friend’ has been climbing into his bedroom each night, lying beside him in bed and sucking and draining "the fountain of my heart!" while Herman moans and tosses (in pain, obviously!), always leaving him "exhausted, spent." Ultimately, Gertrude is saved only when both Herman and Sigismund are staked through the heart, and we close on the image of them slumbering together in the tomb.

It is, however you turn it, pretty gay.

I reiterate: this is the very first known work of vampire fiction written in the English language. The second was the one that was kind-of-written-by, kind-of-stolen-from, and unambiguously based on bisexual-disaster-fuckboy Lord Byron. And the two most influential works of vampire fiction of the next hundred years would be Carmilla, the very lesbian vampire story written by a… presumably straight man? And Dracula, the not-completely-convincingly-hetero story written by #1 Walt Whitman fanboy Bram Stoker. Vampires have always been very equal-opportunity kind of monsters.

There are, of course, plenty of influential heterosexual vampire tales to fill out the roster too. Varney the Vampire, a penny dreadful from the 1840s, was so successful it ran for over 200 chapters. The 1960s had their own wildly successful Varney-equivalent in the soap opera Dark Shadows. Love it or hate it, we really can't ignore Twilight either. My own introduction to the genre was Christopher Pike’s The Last Vampire series, which came out alongside the original Vampire Diaries novels. So there's plenty of material around to keep the straights entertained – and honestly, that’s only as it should be, because the very thing that makes vampires so queer-friendly is that the sex of their victims doesn’t matter. And it’s so easy to make vampires sexy (let alone a full vampire-proposal!) that even the Victorians could do it.

Now, if your reaction to all this theorising is to tell me "but the LGBTQ’s shouldn’t have to hide behind plausible deniability!" I can only counter, "well sure, but why should the straights have all the fun?" Because playing with all the ambiguity of "is this monster really just after my blood or is this going somewhere?" can be all sorts of fun, regardless of the genders involved. And as long as they’re up for exchanging bodily fluids with persons-and-or-victims of either gender equally, why not have some fun with it?

So, okay, maybe the real title of this post should have been "why are there so many pansexual vampires?" But the answer doesn’t change. Vampires have been the bisexual disaster fuckmonsters for as long as anyone’s been writing about vampires, and have been a metaphor allowing people publish barely-coded gay attraction since 1872. And much like the queer community, they’ve only become more complex, more sympathetic, and all the more popular as romantic paramours as the years have gone by.

[blushweddinggowns]

Eddie threw an arm over Steve's shoulder, bringing him into a half-hug, “So, what did you guys think?”

“It was great!” Steve said quickly, relaxing into Eddie’s side, “You guys killed it, dude!”

“He’s right,” Robin agreed, “It was awesome! Super, duper fun and we’re so glad we got to see it. But actually, we kinda got to go-”

Eddie frowned, the loose grip he had over Steve’s shoulder tightening on it’s own accord, “Go where? Don’t tell me you guys are tired already?”

For some reason, Robin didn’t look at him after he asked the question. Instead she looked to Steve, a brow raised as she waited for something. But then Steve was giving her a subtle nod, her queue to start talking again. She leaned in closer, whispering as loud as she could in the noisy environment, “So… you’re like cool, right? Steve said you were cool.”

Eddie cocked his head at her, beyond confused, “I-yes? I guess?”

“About the thing?” She pressed, jerking her head his direction, “Steve’s thing?”

“Oh!” Eddie blurted, finally catching on. But he still didn’t get what Steve being gay had to do with them ditching. He nodded quickly, “Very cool with it. Have zero issues.”

It was almost true. Whatever issues Eddie had with Steve’s sexuality involved his own bullshit more than anything else. Plus, his answer had Robin smiling. Gesturing for Eddie to lean in closer, “Good. Because we, um. Share the affliction if you catch my drift.”

“That’s fine,” Eddie said, not missing a beat. He had kind of figured that out along the way. Considering the process of elimination on who could have possibly talked Steve through his queer thoughts. Not that Eddie cared, “No problem here.”

“Good!” She said with a grin, “Then you know just how limited our options are where we live. And according to an insanely pretty girl, there is an honest to god gay bar, like a few blocks away!”

Eddie swallowed, discomfort suddenly settling in at the suggestion, “T-That’s where you guys are going?”

“Yeah!” She said excitedly, setting her sights back onto Steve, “It’s time for someone to realize that we are hot enough to flirt and be flirted with! Closets don’t matter when you’re hours away from home.”

“We share the exact same closet,” Steve groaned, “Don’t start preaching to me.”

“And tonight we can escape from it!” Robin argued, “Come on! Eddie’s going to be busy with his friends and groupies anyway. What else are we doing-”

“I’m actually not that busy,” Eddie interrupted, trying his damndest to keep his voice calm. Suddenly, he felt nauseous again. He didn’t-He knew Steve could handle himself. He did. B-But creeps were everywhere! And he wasn’t used to being around guys who only wanted one thing and Robin would be distracted with girls a-and Eddie was really struggling with this idea.

Though Steve seemed to disagree. The next thing he knew, Steve was smiling back at her. Letting out a good-natured sigh, “Fine, fine! We can go. Someone has to make sure you don’t get kidnapped.”

“Oh my god, yes!” Robin nearly squealed, bouncing a little in her seat, “This is gonna be so fun!”

Eddie’s heart squeezed uncomfortably in his his chest at the excitement, dread starting to fill him. He opened his mouth, words escaping before he could even think of it, “Sounds like you two might need a D.D. I can do it.”

It was probably the first time Eddie had ever invited himself to something he clearly wasn’t a part of. But he had to give himself some credit for how smoothly it came out. 

Robin looked up at him, clearly surprised, “Really? It’s not exactly your scene.”

Eddie shrugged, “It could be. I like George Michael.”

Steve snorted next to him, “That is the one true gay litmus test. You got us there.”

“Seriously though,” Eddie pressed, refusing to let it go, “Then you can both drink, dance, have fun. And not worry about how you’re getting back to the hotel.”

“But don’t you want to stay here?” Steve asked, “Robin wasn’t kidding about the groupies. You should have heard what some of them were saying.”

“You could definitely get laid,” Robin added. She was staring at him now, looking at Eddie in a way that seemed a little past confused. Like she was examining him. Testing him. Or maybe that was just in his head. 

Eddie held firm, “Maybe, but I’d rather hang out with you two vs playing wingman to the boys. What do you say?”

“If you really don’t mind…” Steve said, trailing off. But Eddie could tell that he was happy. He could barely keep his smile to himself as he looked to the side, biting his lip in a way that Eddie fucking knew other people would notice. How could they not? 

from the next chapter of this fic

[steventhusiast]

STWG prompt 18/5/24

prompt: better to ask for forgiveness than permission

pairing/character(s): steddie, the party

. . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

"Are you sure about this?" Lucas whisper yells as Will anxiously checks no one is looking down the Harrington house's driveway.

Dustin's crouched in front of the door, poking a hair pin into the lock with his tongue poked out, and Mike is leaning against the door, unbothered, so it takes a second for anyone to answer.

"I'm worried about him!" Dustin finally says, his motions getting more intense as he seems to fail to pick the lock. "I haven't seen him all week! He wasn't at work all week either, I checked!"

"He booked the week off." Lucas reminds him.

"Well then why hasn't he been hanging out with us?" Dustin huffs, and then goes back to his attempts.

"Who even taught you how to do that?" Will asks.

"Eddie, he taught me too." Mike says.

"He's gonna be so pissed at us." Will continues quietly, biting his lip, and Mike shakes his head.

"Better to ask for forgiveness than permission."

"Eddie taught us that too!" Dustin chimes in.

Ten minutes later, they've finally managed to get into the house. Lucas is privately surprised that Steve didn't hear them and come see who was trying to break into his house. Maybe Steve's not even home! Hopefully.

A quick survey of the ground floor reveals no movement, so the group make their way up the stairs until they're in front of the closed door leading to Steve's bedroom.

Dustin determinedly reaches for the doorknob, and Lucas tries to stop him once more.

"I really don't think he'll appreciate this, Dust-" He whispers, but Dustin cuts him off with his own (attempt at) whispering.

"I need to make sure he's okay!"

With that, the door is quietly pushed open, and promptly all of their jaws drop and they stand in the doorway in silence, processing what they see.

Steve is laying on his back, fast asleep with his mouth ajar, and tucked into his side is a very naked Eddie, whose butt is unfortunately peaking out from under the covers. He's asleep as well, his face pressed against Steve's hairy (and hickey covered) chest.

"I told you this was a bad idea." Lucas whispers frantically, gesturing at the pair. He looks to Will for backup, but Will is bright red and his eyes are still on Steve and Eddie, so he figures that's a lost cause and turns to Dustin and Mike.

Mike looks a little red and shellshocked too, but Dustin immediately starts whisper yelling some more.

"Well, he should've told me!"

"Told you what? That he's sleeping with a guy?"

"Not just any guy, Eddie! Why didn't he tell me?"

Lucas feels a hand grab at his shoulder urgently, but needs Dustin to understand what he's trying to say so he ignores it.

"He was probably scared you'd hate them for it!"

"For dating?"

"For being gay, idiot."

"I'm not gay, for the record. I'm bisexual." Steve suddenly pipes up, and Lucas and Dustin look over at him immediately with wide eyes.

Steve and Eddie have shifted a little now, Steve propped up against his headboard with Eddie lazily laying against his chest still. Thankfully, his ass is covered up now, but Lucas knows he's naked and that's enough to make him shudder.

"Hi Steve. Fancy seeing you here." Lucas tries with a (hopefully) charming smile. Steve snorts in response, and drops his forehead to rest on Eddie's hair for a second in defeat.

"This is literally my bedroom, Sinclair. How'd you guys get in anyway?"

"We picked the lock on your front door!" Dustin says, having the nerve to sound proud of himself.

"Right. Of course." Steve sighs.

"Eddie taught us." Mike chimes in, finally having gone back to his normal colour. Will's still flushed, but looks more present overall, and he nods along to his best friend's words.

Steve quirks a brow at the information, lifts his head again, and promptly flicks Eddie, who's still half asleep, in the head. He immediately looks more awake, and glares at Steve as he rubs where he got flicked.

"Ow! What the hell was that for?"

"You're the reason they picked the lock, Munson."

"Oh, look what you guys did. I got demoted back to Munson." Eddie finally addresses them for the first time, but thankfully he doesn't look too upset. More amused.

Actually, now Lucas thinks about it Steve doesn't look upset either. Pissed off? Yeah. But in that older brother way he gets with them, not actually mad.

"You're the one who told us to ask for forgiveness not permission!" Dustin defends himself, and Eddie gets another flick to the head for that from Steve.

"Well, are you going to ask for forgiveness then?"

"Screw you. We were worried about you!"

"Have you heard of phones before, Henderson. And the rest of you, really? Wheeler, I expect it from-" Steve starts, getting interrupted by an indignant 'hey!' from Mike, "But Sinclair? Baby Byers?"

"For the record I did not want this to happen." Lucas says defensively, and crosses his arms over his chest.

"Interesting considering you're still here when you could've abandoned them." Eddie snorts.

"The party sticks together."

"Still waiting on that beg for forgiveness." Steve singsongs, and Eddie sits up a little straighter as he adds on his own demand with a grin.

"I want full-on on your knees with prayer hands, begging for forgiveness."

[fratttymatty]

Remade

(All characters are 18+)

Zach Turner had always been the type of guy who found comfort in books, video games, and the occasional comic book convention. At 18, he was a senior in high school, a quiet, nerdy, and undeniably gay young man. He lived in the small world of his thoughts and interests, often accompanied by his best friend, Cassie.

Cassie was everything Zach wasn’t: confident, popular, and unashamedly ambitious. They’d known each other since middle school, and she had always been the type of person to look out for Zach, even if her attentions were often a little too intense. Their friendship had always been platonic—or so Zach had thought.

One evening, when Zach was deep into his latest role-playing game, he got a text from Cassie.

Cassie: “I’ve got a surprise for you tonight. It’s important. Be at my house at 8:00 sharp. Don’t be late.”

Zach, curious but not thinking much of it, agreed. After all, Cassie had a flair for the dramatic, and he was used to her pulling pranks or making grandiose plans that never quite panned out.

But that night was different.

When Zach arrived at Cassie’s house, he found the lights dimmed and a strange, almost eerie atmosphere. Cassie, dressed in a sleek black outfit, was waiting for him in the living room, a small, mysterious device in her hands.

“Cassie?” Zach said, looking around nervously. “What’s going on?”

“You’ll see soon enough,” she replied, her voice unnervingly calm.

Without any warning, Cassie pulled out the device and pointed it at him. Zach barely had time to react before the world around him seemed to blur, and everything turned dark.

When Zach woke up, he felt strange. His body was heavy, as though he had been asleep for hours, but there was an unnatural weight to it. His chest felt tight, and he groggily blinked his eyes open.

Cassie stood in front of him, a satisfied smile on her face.

“Well, well. You’re awake,” she said, her voice dripping with a mixture of amusement and triumph. “Let’s begin.”

Zach tried to sit up, but found himself restrained. He looked down at his body—his limbs, his torso. Something was wrong. He felt... different. His fingers, once delicate and pale, were now broad, tanned, and muscular. His whole body had an unfamiliar strength to it.

“Cassie,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “What did you do to me?”

“I’m making you perfect,” Cassie replied simply. “The boyfriend I’ve always wanted. You’ve always been my best friend, Zach, but I’ve realized something: you’re not quite what I need. You’re too... soft.”

Zach’s heart pounded in his chest. “What do you mean? This isn’t me, Cassie! I don’t want this!”

“You don’t have a choice,” she said coldly, before flicking a switch on the device.

A surge of energy washed over Zach, and before he could protest, his body began to change in ways he couldn’t comprehend. His limbs elongated and thickened with muscle. His once pale skin darkened to a rich bronze, and his face began to reshape—his jawline sharpening, his cheekbones rising, his eyes shifting to a deeper brown.

Zach cried out, but the sound that escaped his lips wasn’t his own. It was a deeper, more masculine tone.

“What the hell is happening to me?” he gasped, trying to tug at the restraints, but he was too weak. His entire body felt alien to him, as though it belonged to someone else.

“Just relax,” Cassie said, brushing his hair back from his forehead. “It’s all part of the process. You’ll get used to it. This is who you’re meant to be.”

Zach couldn’t understand what was happening. It wasn’t just his body that was changing. His mind seemed to be slipping as well—like his thoughts were becoming clouded with confusion, slowly overtaken by the growing sense of strength, dominance, and something else—something he hadn’t felt before.

“Cassie, please,” he begged. “You can’t do this!”

“I can, and I will,” she said with a flick of her wrist. “You’re the perfect foundation. I’m just making you the perfect guy for me. You’re going to be everything I want in a boyfriend.”

Zach’s panic grew as she activated the device again. His body buckled, and with each passing second, it morphed more into something he didn’t recognize. His muscles swelled, his shoulders broadening, his chest growing more defined.

But it wasn’t just his appearance that changed. He could feel it—the shift in his mind. His thoughts, once filled with video games, books, and a quiet, nerdy existence, were starting to fade. In their place were thoughts of power, sports, and girls—Cassie, in particular. He was becoming someone else entirely.

And then, a strange sensation began at the top of his head. His hair. He could feel it shifting, like something pulling at it from the roots. His thick curls—once unruly and wild—began to flatten, the familiar texture becoming straighter and sleeker by the second.

It was as if his hair itself was being reshaped, straightened, darkened. The soft curls he had always worn with pride now transformed into a neat, short, dark brown mane that laid perfectly against his scalp. The thickness remained, but now the texture was different—smooth, sleek, and controlled. His hair fell just above his forehead in a stylish, masculine cut that complemented the broadness of his face.

He reached up, instinctively running his fingers through his hair. It was... perfect. His new hair felt like it was made for him, as if it had always been this way.

When the transformation finally ceased, Zach—no, not Zach anymore—looked at himself in the mirror Cassie had placed in front of him.

Gone was the skinny, pale, awkward white boy he had been. In his place stood a tall, athletic Latino young man, with broad shoulders, defined muscles, and a confident, cocky grin on his face. His eyes, once soft and nerdy, now gleamed with a sense of self-assurance, and his name... it wasn’t Zach anymore.

Cassie’s grin widened. “Meet your new self. This is Alejandro. Your perfect self.”

Zach—Alejandro—barely registered his former name as it left her lips. He looked at himself in the mirror, and for the first time, he didn’t feel out of place. He felt right. His old self, the timid, shy boy, seemed like a distant memory—one that he no longer cared about. The nerdy, insecure parts of him were gone, replaced by someone confident, strong, and desirable.

Cassie stepped forward, her fingers brushing over his now chiseled chest. “You’re perfect,” she said. “Now, we can finally be together. The way it was always meant to be.”

Alejandro didn’t object. He didn’t feel the need to. Everything that once mattered—the books, the games, the quiet life—was far behind him. His mind was entirely focused on Cassie, on the life they could have, the adventures they could share. His identity was new, but it felt like it had always been him.

And as he looked down at Cassie, he smiled, his heart pounding with excitement.

Yes. This was who he was meant to be.

[bellsmess]

Whenever someone calls Charles Rowland straight, an angel dies.

What straight guy tells his best friend who just confessed to him that there's no one else – no one – he would go to Hell for. And that they have forever to figure out what that means. You don’t get his repressed bisexuality like I do!

Even modern bisexuals (I may or may not be speaking from personal experience) are oblivious to the fact they're bi because heteronormative roles are so engraved in our minds. When you're attracted to other genders, it's easy to miss a same-sex crush, only then to realise that oh, it wasn’t just admiration, it was attraction.

Charles, having grown up at the height of the AIDS crisis, with an abusive and probably homophobic father, killed by racist bullies? That would make anyone repress any gay feelings. Especially if you experience crushes on people with a different sex to you.

Charles sees Crystal and takes his chance. He's enamoured with this smart, strong-willed, pretty girl who can see him not only in a physical sense, but pays attention to him. He longs to be loved. Then he says the infamous "That sounds alot like you, doesn't it? Maybe that's why I like her so much" line. What an icon. And he compares himself and his best friend to the greatest love story of all time, Orpheus and Euridyce's.

When Edwin confesses to him, he doesn't rule out the possibility of returning these feelings. He knows they're already devoted to each other. They've already had 30 years of companionship and solving cases together.

"As long as I have my best mate and a case to solve, I'm good."

Being with Edwin is simple. They solve cases, help others, run away from Death. It's a simple existance. Charles gave up eternity to be with Edwin, because he was kind to him when he was dying. Charles finds him fun, wants to protect him, knows that Edwin is a kind and good person. One that Charles wants to be.

"Bad guys don't worry about being bad guys. And you, Charles Rowland, are the best person I know."

Crystal's role is very important in changing the dynamic between Edwin and Charles. Not only because Charles falls for her, but because she opens them up. She digs out their repressed feelings and trauma. Charles finally deals with his dad's abuse, his happy-go-lucky mask falls. She points it out to Edwin. Charles kept it up so well because Edwin didn't press it, but Crystal does. And Charles finally lets himself process what happened to him, and how that affects his relationships.

Charles never saw genuine love between his parents, and that affects how he views relationships. It impacts how he forms them, too. But he's a loverboy, he longs to be loved, he falls easily. Why wouldn’t he fall for someone who stuck to his side for 30 years?

Crystal and Monty's roles mirror each other – they help the boys figure out their feelings and desires. Crystal makes Edwin jealous that there's someone else Charles cares about in the same sense he cares for Edwin. The Cat King helps Edwin discover desire, Monty – genuine love. As Charles' and Crystal's relationship kickstarts (albeit ends as quickly) and Monty persues Edwin, he discovers the depth of his feelings.

"These complicated feelings that you have? They're for Charles."

I would love to see their wants explored more in the future season(s, hopefully multiple). Charles giving into desire with Desire of the Endless' guidance? Yes please.

I simply cannot believe that anyone would doubt Painland/Payneland endgame. They're everything to each other. They're a constant presence, reassurance, and love. Platonic, romantic, it doesn't matter. Their bond is so deep and genuine that immortal beings see it and leave them be, in the afterlife they chose for each other. Their love is so deep it transcends planes: from mortal plane to Hell, it leads Charles to Edwin. Charles is not Orpheus, when he turns around to hear Edwin out on the staircase from Hell, he manages to get him out. And they have literally forever for each other.

[crazyyluvr]

Hello! I have a request if that's okay? Could you maybe do a James Potter x male!reader (with the reader being Ravenclaw) where they end up being partnered together in potions and afterwards James is like 'shit. I think I might be gay.'

Basically where the reader is his gay awakening haha

A Revelation in Potions (Not Through Amortentia, That's too Generic)

pairing: james potter x male!ravenclaw!reader

summary: in which James never knew men could be so attractive until he gets paired up with you in a Potions activity.

genre: fluff, gay awakening, crushing

wc: 2.1k

warning/s: cursing, reader is a little taller than james, he/him pronouns, gay panic, james is a lil shy here, potion nonsense that i made up on the spot, reader is good in potions, mention of boobs lmao

note: oooh, interesting request anon. i like it. i hope you enjoy!!

oneshot under the cut :: not edited :: part 1 | part 2

James Potter was dying.

No, not literally. But he did feel like he was literally dying.

This is what a painful death felt like, didn't it? The inability to properly take in air, the painful pounding of his racing heart, the stumble of his tongue as he tried and failed to properly speak.

On the contrary, James Potter was not just dying. He was dying of embarrassment.

Let's rewind a little bit for some context.

Gryffindor and Ravenclaw were stuck in the dungeons of a double Potions class together. As usual, James sat beside his friend Sirius Black, and as usual, they were noisy with sniggers and poorly muted whispers.

"Black, Potter, do you have something that you'd like to share?" Professor Slughorn called to the two boys sitting in the back after a wheeze from Sirius was too loud for the professor to ignore.

"No sir, we're — we're fine," James said, sounding slightly out if breath from containing his laughter at a joke Sirius had made. "Just a little hot in here, isn't it?"

Slughorn sighed. "It's less hot here in the front, Potter, so why don't you switch with Shelby here?"

The girl sitting beside you perked up at the mention of her name, looking back and blushing when she realized that she was going to be sitting beside Sirius Black.

"On the contrary sir, I think I feel slightly colder already," James grinned. "I'm fine with staying at the back."

"I insist, Potter," Slughorn held a strained smile, displaying the fact that James had no choice but to follow.

The boy sighed, giving Sirius an exaggerated mournful look before picking up his things and walking over to the now vacant seat in the front, messing up his hair along the way out of habit.

He set his things down beside his chair and slumped into it, sparing a glance at his new seatmate. "Hello. I guess you're stuck with me for today," James said quietly, not wanting to disrupt Slughorn's lesson again.

You turned to face him, giving him a small smile. "I guess so. Nice to meet you."

James nodded, and you looked away to jot down some notes as Slughorn wrote on the board.

James did a double take, his brain just processing the face he saw.

Woah, he's handsome.

He couldn't stop himself from looking at you again, taking in your features from the side; your focused eyes, your cheeks, your jawline, your lips.

James had to make himself blink twice to snap himself out of his trance. I'm straight. So what if he's handsome? I'm handsome too.

"Now that we're done with our lesson, you will use the rest of the period to brew a simple Sleeping Draught with your seatmate," Slughorn announced. "Go through your books for the procedure, and don't hesitate to ask me any questions you may have."

With a wave of his wand, a cauldron appeared on the side of each pair's table. "The ingredients are in the cupboard behind me," he continued, waving his wand once more to open the cupboard doors. "You may begin."

James went to stand up, but you put a hand on his shoulder to stop him. He looked at you and saw that you got to your feet. "I'll go get the ingredients. Can you partially fill the cauldron with water and heat it up please?" You asked.

"Uh — sure," James responded, making you smile and pat his shoulder twice before leaving with you Potions book in hand.

James stared after you, shook his head to focus. You gave him a task, and he had the weird goal to not let you down. He muttered “aguamenti” under his breath and water spilled out of the tip of his wand, filling the the cauldron. He flicked his wand upward to stop the flow once the water was halfway.

He ignited a fire under the cauldron and stayed standing over it, watching bubbles appear in the water.

“I’m back,” you greeted, gently putting down the ingredients on the empty part of their table.

James turned his head to look at you, his breath hitching when he noticed that you had a few inches over him, the top of his head reaching a little bit above your eyebrows.

He watched you pull the sleeves of your uniform upwards to your elbows, revealing your forearms. He swallowed with difficulty.

Get your head in the game, Potter, James thought, mentally slapping himself. He’s just a random boy from Ravenclaw whose taller than you and has really nice arms. Big deal.

“I’ll cut the ingredients up, you put them in the cauldron and follow the stirring. Is that okay?” You asked, giving him a glance before you put the ingredients on the cutting board in front of you.

“You’re doing an awful lot of work, huh?” James said, chuckling breathily, making you laugh slightly in response.

“Stirring properly and putting the ingredients in is also important, is it not?” You smiled teasingly, cutting the plant root with as much accuracy as possible.

He watched your fingers glide over the root and how the veins on the back of your palm popped to life when you gripped the knife.

Holy shit, James, control yourself, the messy-haired boy scolded himself. Think boobs. Boobs!

“Are you ready for the Quidditch match tomorrow?” You asked, attempting to break the semi-awkward silence between you two.

“Ah,” James remembered that Gryffindor had a match against Hufflepuff. In truth, he wasn't all that worried about it, since he's seen their Seeker and he isn't much (NO HATE ON HUFFLEPUFF, I LOVE HUFFLEPUFF <33).

"I think I'm ready," James said after a moment of silence. "I don't feel all that worried about it," he grinned, sending the boy a wink. Why he did that when he normally only did it to girls (with the exception of his own friend group) he had no idea why. I guess being with you made him full of even more surprises.

You rolled your eyes playfully at him. "Sure." You handed him the chopping board with your evenly cut plant roots on it. "Time for you to shine, Mister Potter. Pour it and stir it properly."

James took the board with an exaggerated bow. "It's my pleasure, good sir." He tossed the roots in the boiling cauldron almost carelessly, some of the water splashing onto the back of his hand.

You, who was supposed to be grinding some mineral to powder, immediately set down your mortar and pestle to check on the boy who winced in pain as the hot water made contact with his skin.

"Be careful!" You scolded, gently grabbing his hand and examining it. "It's not that bad of a burn, but we're gonna have to rinse it with warm water."

James nodded dumbly, the pain numbing slightly as soon as his hand made contact with yours.

Soft hands, he noted.

You dragged him over to the sink on the other side of the room and let the faucet run for a little while before guiding his hand under the running water, your focus blinding you from James's stare.

I'm straight. I'm straight. Straight as a wand.

"Does it hurt, Potter?"

"James," He answered absentmindedly.

"What?"

"Call me James. Not Potter."

You looked up, his big brown eyes staring at you behind round, silver-rimmed glasses. "Okay, James," he totally did not shiver at the sound of his first name rolling off your tongue, "does it hurt?"

James shook his head. "It feels way better now."

"Are you sure?" You questioned, brows creasing in concern.

"Yeah — yep, I'm fine," he answered, his eyes unblinking as he maintained eye contact with you despite his small stumble over his own words. "We can just continue brewing the potion, yeah?"

Which brings us to the present moment, where he felt like he was dying.

"Okay, as long as you're sure..." You said, not entirely convinced but letting it slide for now.

You pulled down your sleeve on one arm to use it to wipe the extra water that lingered on his hand before letting it go entirely. James was already missing the warmth.

"Let's head back," you said, checking your watch as you turned around to return to your table and to resume your tasks of preparing the ingredients.

Your work commenced in silence. Your potion was a little messed up from the lack of stirring and addition of the other ingredients, but it wasn't unsalvageable. You just added some bark and leaves to balance it out a little.

You hesitantly handed the ingredients to James, worried that he was going to hurt himself again, but this time he was gentle, smiling at you victoriously as if not getting burned again was an accomplishment — which it was, you guess.

"You're stirring too quickly, James," you said, laughing slightly at his somewhat aggressive stirring.

"It didn't say that speed mattered," he replied cheekily, continuing his ministrations.

You sighed, shaking your head slightly with a smile on your face as you took a step towards him and grabbed his stirring hand, the one that wasn't burned. James eyes widened a fraction at the contact, but said nothing.

"Slow down," you murmured, guiding his hand to a much slower pace compared to the one he had set moments before. "No need to rush."

James didn't reply, too busy trying to tame the redness of his cheeks. In order to guide him, you had to stand close behind him, your chest grazing his back and your breath fanning his ear and part of his neck. Goosebumps trailed over the skin that your hot breath caressed.

"'Stir clockwise until potion turns a light shade of blue,'" you read from the instructions in your book. "What do you think, James? Is our potion ready yet?" You hummed the question almost directly in his ear.

This damn man. No way is he not doing this on purpose.

"It — No, not yet," He said, mentally whacking himself in the back of his head for his stammering.

"Alright, we keep stirring then."

You could have let go of his hand already and let him stir on his own, but you didn't. You kept your hand over his, clutching it in a gentle grip, until your potion turned from purple into a light blue.

You smiled. James, for some reason, could feel that smile despite not seeing it. It tingled in the back of his brain.

"Okay, we're done."

You let go of his hand, moving to the side to grab a dropper and a vial. James pulled the stirrer out of the cauldron and set it aside, watching you collect some of your potion and putting it in the vial.

"The Sleeping Draught can be deadly in large amounts," you said, collecting more of the potion as a bit of your Ravenclaw brain slipped out. "If you take too much of it, your calming sleep will also turn into an endless one."

You put down the dropped and took a stopper to seal the vial. You looked up at James with a smile that James could only interpret as mischievous. "Everything can kill you if you have too much of it, don't you agree?"

You don't wait for him to reply before going to the front and placing your vial in the empty rack on Slughorn's table, holding a small conversation with Slughorn before returning to get your things.

"We can leave early," you informed James, grinning. You shouldered your bag and adjusted your blue tie to not choke you as much, the hot atmosphere of the Potions room getting to you a little. "See you around, James."

You left him staring at your back, mouth slightly open and eyes wide.

Sirius passed him to get some ingredients his partner forgot to retrieve earlier and noticed his dumbfounded expression. "You good, Prongs? What happened to your hand?" He asked, looking at James's hand as he raised it to ruffle his own hair.

"Pads," he said, his voice cracking slightly. "Pads, I think I'm in love."

"Huh?" He followed his best mate's gaze, catching a glimpse of your uniform before you disappeared completely. Sirius looked back at the bespectacled boy with a cheeky grin on his face.

"Nah mate, I think you just got your gay awakening. Welcome to the club, Prongs."

"Yeah..." James's eyes were still fixed on the doorway where you once were, before his eyes snapped to Sirius's when his words fully processed in his brain. "Wait, you're gay??"

Sirius shrugged. "I'd be disappointed in myself if I wasn't," he joked, clapping James on the back. "You got good taste for your first boy crush," Sirius said before leaving James to his unpacked things and his own thoughts.

Can't argue with Padfoot about that: I definitely got good taste in men for my first guy crush...

[harmonictechnicality]

model!steve and voice actor!eddie

part 2 here | ao3 link here

Eddie chose a career in voice acting to avoid shit like this.

Forced socializing. Schmoozing with hotshot directors who are used to everyone kissing their ass until their lips bleed. And Eddie doesn’t do that shit. 

… Okay yeah sure, Eddie kisses asses. But only in the literal, consensual kind of way. Usually after a few mediocre dinner dates, at least.

But this particular fuckhole of a director is insisting that Eddie attends the production shoot of the commercial that he’ll be narrating for. Which is weird - that’s not how this process typically goes. Eddie gets the script and records it in his studio. Easy peasy.

“I do things a little differently with my projects.” The director sneers into the phone’s speaker. Eddie silently gags at the oozing amounts of ego on this guy. “I want to immerse you into my vision.”

Ew. Eddie would rather immerse himself into a nap, but whatever. A job is a job.

“Understood.” Eddie agrees with minimal teeth-clenching. “I’ll be on set shortly.”

The phone clicks dead with nothing but a chuckle from the guy. No ‘goodbye,’ no ‘thank you.’ Rude… but that’s kind of an industry standard, so why did Eddie expect anything different?

He folds the script into his back pocket, throws on a shirt that screams ‘Los Angeles disaster gay,’ and makes his way to the studio lot.

Fucking yay. 

Upon arrival, the director immediately escorts Eddie into the green room. Rambles on about needing him to meet the lead model for this commercial.

“Isn’t he just posing with the product?” Eddie lets his snarkiness run loose with that question, knows it right away.

Luckily, the guy is too busy snapping at a crew member to notice. “You’ll be voicing his character’s inner narrations.”

“Right.”

“And I want your tone to be seamless with the energy that he’s giving in this shoot. Got it?”

“Loud and clear.” Mostly loud.

The director swings open the door and reveals maybe the most cosmically beautiful person that Eddie has ever seen.

“Eddie, this is Steve.” The director says. “Steve, this is Eddie.”

Models are beautiful people, that’s the goddamn gig. Makeup, no makeup. Photoshop, no photoshop. They just look better than the general population and society accepts that as a fact.

But Eddie is a grubby little voice actor that burrows himself up in his boxy apartment for days. Very little sunlight, very little human interaction, and a shit ton of takeout.

Long story short, he doesn’t get out much. So this? Seeing a biblically hot heartthrob in the flesh? With his own two eyes? It’s knocking him into deep space. Sending him into an astral projection without sticking a tablet on his tongue first.

“Nice to meet you, man.” Steve holds out his hand while someone brushes more powder onto his shiny, glowy skin. God, that’s the best damn skin Eddie has ever seen. Powder be damned, Steve doesn’t need it’s chalky finish.

Eddie shakes himself out of this spell, takes Steve’s hand like he’s somehow worthy of touching him. “Yeah, you too.”

Lame. So lame. On a scale of one to Star Wars prequels, his response is the CGI in Attack of the Clones. ‘Yeah, you too?’ Ugh, what a dumbass.

The director tells them to get acquainted and to be on set in ten minutes. Ten minutes. Eddie has to be convincingly normal for ten whole minutes. Pfft, that’s laughable, but he’ll give it a shot.

“That guy’s a total asshat.” Steve grumbles.

Oh. Eddie could smother him in kisses for saying that. Lick Steve clean of all that stupid powder and probably die of talc poisoning. Death By Licking a Model is one hell of a way to go.

“Yeah.” Find some new words, Munson. “Major asshat. But he happens to be paying my bills this month, so technically, he’s my favorite major asshat.”

“Oh, same.” Steve laughs. It’s fucking glorious too. Eddie kind of wishes he had brought his microphone so that he could capture such a wonderful sound with high quality recording software. Is that creepy? Maybe he should dial it back. 

... As if. This guy’s hair is sculpted with effortless perfection and his shoulder blades could slice through a French baguette. No way Eddie can dial it back or keep it together.

“So you’re doing the voice work on the commercial, right?” Steve asks.

‘Yup.” Eddie shoves both hands into his pockets. “Indeed I am.” 

Okay, that was borderline Yoda. Get a grip.

Steve seems unfazed though. “That’s cool. Can’t wait to hear what you come up with.”

“Thanks.” Eddie smiles warmly. Nerves mellowing out. “And I can’t wait to see you in action out there.”

“Hope I can give you some good inspiration.” And Steve winks, legit winks at Eddie. Does it like it’s normal too, like he winks at everybody. He probably winks at nuns just to see if he can get them to consider conversion.

Eddie is so hopeless. Fucking tragic at this point.

They walk into the studio and are greeted by a somber, archaic set design. There’s a massive throne in the middle that is draped with fur. 

It’s… tacky. That’s the nicest adjective Eddie has to describe it. Tacky bullshit.

“I thought this was for a cologne ad.” Eddie says, eyeing the snowy backdrop.

Steve nods. “It is.”

“So what’s with the secondhand Game of Thrones set?”

“Mr. Asshat thinks this is his cinematic debut.”

Eddie snorts. Loves that he already has inside jokes with this beautiful, beautiful creature. “Someone should tell Mr. Asshat that this is visual plagiarism.”

“Nah.” Steve runs his hand over the tacky fur piece. Smirks to himself as he speaks. “I say we let him suffer.”

Eddie’s legs wobble. “Damn, you’re hot.”

He sounds ridiculously uncool, so breathy and gone. But Steve shrugs in a non-pitying kind of way, so maybe Eddie's uncoolness is excused. Or expected.

While the camera and lighting crew finalize their positions, Steve takes off his robe, revealing his costume.

Torn, muddied pants. Ripped and clawed to shreds. A billowy white top that’s completely unbuttoned. Un-laced? Eddie’s not entirely sure about the mechanics - just knows that Steve’s chest is out, that’s all he can focus on.

There’s a dented crown that the stylist places next to the throne, right at Steve’s feet. It’s shimmery yet tarnished, catches the light in a kaleidoscope effect.

The product is called The Fallen King, so deductive reasoning tells Eddie that Steve is meant to be the physical embodiment of this scent. He recalls something in the script about his title being slandered by promiscuity and forbidden love. Apparently they’ve bottled up that smell into a cologne. 

Do people really want to smell like a dethroned monarch? That’s a thing? Huh.

Just to make the sexual torture even more unbearable, Eddie gets to spectate alongside Mr. Asshat himself. Which also means that Eddie almost has a center view of Steve’s performance.

Cause that’s exactly what he’s giving. A performance. A full display production of his body, his face. His whole godlike essence. 

It’s unfair how fucked Eddie is from watching Steve pose. He can hold the oddest positions without budging a single tendon. So still. Durable. Strong.

Every last thought in Eddie’s head is impure from that observation. He wants to wrap his fingers around Steve’s muscles until he finally moves, twitches. Eddie wants to watch as Steve’s pretty lips part, falling open with sighs. See how long it takes for those sighs to turn into moans.

Steve slumps back into the throne, legs spread obscenely far apart. His gaze droops low and dark, practically eye-fucking the camera. It’s crazy how jealous Eddie is of that stupid inanimate object. The things he would do to get eye-fucked by that golden sex god up there…

His internal porno gets interrupted by a new pose. A wicked one. Steve is on his knees now, looking up into the camera lens. He sinks into the dreamiest expression. Looks dazed, all spaced-out and helpless. Eddie kneads at the growing heat in his pants with the heel of his palm. Hopes it’s not fucking obvious that he’s so horned up right now.

The director clears his throat and yells over the camera’s constant shuttering. “Can you tilt your head back, Steve?”

And Steve does. So obedient, so exceptional at his job. His head rolls back on his neck, shoulders sagging with the shift of weight.

Eddie is chewing the inside of his cheek, nearly ready to take the horny loss and go jack off in his car. Steve is in the most ideal position now, totally vulnerable. Eddie could fuck him so good like that, let Steve melt into his touch. He’d treat him like treasure, spoil him with dick and praise. Eddie would catch him if his legs give out. Would lick Steve’s kiss-bitten lips until the swelling goes down.

God, Eddie is so sick in the head for conjuring up x-rated scenes like this. In public, surrounded by strangers. Literally on the clock. He seriously needs to get his head checked for having such a whorish imagination.

The shoot ends shortly after that last pose, the one that rocked Eddie’s world. He closes his eyes for a minute, takes a few deep breaths. Tries to inhale some goddamn decency.

“How was it?” Steve heads his way, snaking his arms back into the bathrobe.

Eddie blinks hard. “It was… you were…” And the words stop. Nothing else comes out, his throat is strangled and bare.

Steve gives a soft laugh, nudges Eddie’s arm with his elbow. “Guess you do better when there’s a script in front of you, huh?”

Oh. So he’s pretty and darkly playful? This is too good, too delicious.

Eddie wets his bottom lip, recovers quickly. “I do better when there’s not an earthbound angel in my presence.”

“Wow.” Steve raises both eyebrows. “That’s quite the compliment.”

“Oh come on - you must get compliments all the time.”

“Not like that one though.”

“No?”

Steve takes a step into Eddie’s space. “Definitely not.”

They just stare after that - mostly because it’s Eddie’s turn to speak but words are so secondary when there’s this much beauty to behold. Gazing becomes his top priority.

And before the conversation can lead to an exchange of last names or phone numbers, Steve is rushed off by his agent. Maybe his publicist. Maybe his mom, Eddie has no fucking clue. Just someone taking away his shiny new toy. He sort of feels like reenacting that scene in Cast Away when the volleyball drifts into the ocean. Be dramatic as all hell about this ending.

Eddie doesn’t actually jack off in his car, although he really wants to. No, he decides to use all of his adrenaline and pent-up hormones for the voice recording. It gives his vocals this strained, chesty sound. Sinful and corrupt. Cracking with emotion in certain spots, spiking the volume in all the right ways.

It might be too much, a little bit too suggestive for a lousy cologne advertisement.

But as he listens back, Eddie can’t help but picture Steve. Imagining snapshots of him from every angle, especially the unspeakable ones. The recording barely sounds like a script anymore. It almost sounds like Eddie whispering the lines directly into Steve’s ear. A dirty secret between them.

This is it, he thinks. Sends the audio file to his sound mixer without a second read-through, without a retake. This might be the best voiceover Eddie Munson has ever done.

[perotovar]

baby, i'm-a want you — (ch 2) "session two"

gif by me

pairing: javier peña/joel miller rating: E (18+) mdni word count: 4.3k content: use of a plug, throat fucking, ass eating, lots of spit, gratuitous descriptions of cum, unprotected p in a, creampie, (safe) breathplay, background handjob, cock slapping, one (1) spank, joel's porn persona is a tad mean but it's nothing crazy, shy!joel, javi is a HUGE flirt, smoking, lmk if i missed anything! dividers: @saradika-graphics betas: @qveerthe0ry & @scenaaario (ily angels ♥)

series summary: javier peña has been doing this a long time. he's really good at his job. joel miller? not so much. he started doing this to get some extra cash to support his daughters. what happens when they're supposed to do a scene together? aka, the au where javier and joel are gay porn stars~

series masterlist | shoutout to this spanish dirty talk reference

for notifications, follow @oakslibrary ♥

“Fuck.”

Javier hadn’t had to prepare in a while. At least a few months. And the fact that he was doing this for Joel, of all men? He was harder than a fucking rock and he hadn’t even gotten the plug all the way in yet. Granted, he’d purposely chosen a smaller plug so he could still feel the stretch when Joel pushed that thick–

“Mierda,” he groaned, looking over his shoulder to see if he could get a better angle. The plug he chose was small, black, and a little thinner than he would normally go for. It’s been a while, so no matter what, there was a stretch but the lube certainly helped. When his hole finally sucked it in lewdly, he moaned, arching his back like a cat presenting himself to a mate. He grinned to himself and rested his head on his folded arms, ass in the open air of his apartment. 

He wished that his first major scene with Joel wasn’t a scene. He wanted to see if Joel was any different when the cameras weren’t on and he could just be himself. Every time he’s ever talked to Joel, he’d been quiet, with a heavy brow. Javier had been around the block once or twice and he could tell when someone didn’t like him. He’s not sure what he did to get on Joel’s bad side, but he hoped that tension added to the scene instead of making things awkward. And part of him liked the rift. It made Joel way more attractive to him, because Joel was probably the closest the site had to a bear, but not as big. Javier had always wanted to be fucked by one– 

Bzz. Bzz.

Cracking open an eye, Javier looked as his phone lit up next to him. He sighed and started rolling his hips side to side, slowly getting used to the feeling of being filled up again.

R u ready ?

“Who still texts like this, Jesus Christ,” he grumbled to himself. A slow trickle of sweat fell down the length of his back as he started typing a response.

Be there shortly, boss.

Javier rolled his eyes to himself. Max was always on his ass about being on time, but it never bothered him. They couldn’t start the shoot without him anyway. His cock throbbed between his legs, making him curl his fingers around his shaft. 

One quick wank couldn’t hurt right? 

Joel was panicking, to put it mildly. He showed up to the shoot way too fucking early and now he was rocking a semi in the hallway outside the room they’d be using. They, meaning him and Javier, because of course he hadn’t fully processed that that was still happening. He couldn’t get the image of Javier’s mouth around his cock, that mustache framing it so perfectly. Or his hole being stretched by Joel’s cock, or even–

“Hey, big guy.”

The words sounded like they were coming from down the hall and directly in his ear simultaneously. He slowly looked up to find Javier smirking down at him. Joel swallowed around a lump in his throat and cleared his throat awkwardly. His cheeks felt like they were on fire. Javier looked really fucking good – when didn’t he – with a healthy glow and slightly tousled hair. Had he freshly cleaned up his mustache this morning?

“Joel?” Javier chuckled, a soft smile coloring his features.

Joel cleared his throat again and stood awkwardly. “S-sorry, uh, hey,” he mumbled, looking down at his boots before keeping his eyes off of Javier’s, as he shoved his hands in his pockets. “Where ya been?” 

It was meant to be casual conversation, he swears, but he’d lowered his voice and it came out all gruff and accusatory and now he wants to hide in the broom closet. He knows this because the easy, relaxed look on Javier’s changed to one of confusion.

“Uh, preparing. Sorry, I know I was a little later than usual,” Javier exhaled. Guess he was right; Joel wasn’t the biggest fan of his. That’s fine, he was a professional and he could get his job done and go home. “See you in there, hombre.”

Joel blinked a couple times, looking at the empty area of the hallway where Javier was just standing. “W-wait,” he grunted, looking toward the room. Javier was digging into the pocket of the robe he was wearing and lighting up a cigarette, blowing the smoke away from the face of the assistant he was talking to.

“Fuckin’ idiot,” Joel grumbled to himself and stepped inside.

Javier wasn’t opposed to an audience per se, but he wasn’t expecting one today either. “What are you cabrones doing here?” He smirked, looking at the faces of his coworkers. Not all of them were here, but Dieter, Shane, Dave, Marcus, Din, Steve, Cobb, and Jack were. Everyone was in various positions of comfort, some sitting and some standing or leaning. Except Dieter, who was sitting on Din’s lap comfortably, resting his head on the bulkier man’s shoulder. 

“Wanted to see the show, of course,” Dieter grinned, winking at him. Joel stepped onto the set and saw all the men. He gave Dieter a look, and Dieter responded with a softer smile as if to say, You got this.

Javier rolled his eyes and smiled. “Alright, whatever, you perverts.”

“Alright, people, let’s get this show on the road! We’ve got a longer one ahead of us and I’ve got a date tonight.”

Everyone froze and looked at Max like he grew a third eye. 

Max frowned. “It’s not that rare– Y’know what, fuck you guys. Joel, Javi, get into position,” he grumbled, sitting in his director’s seat.

Javier looked at Joel and snorted, untying his robe. He threw it to their audience like they were a bunch of fans, and laughed when Marcus caught it. Javier winked at him, making the slightly younger man’s cheeks flush.

Joel was doing his damndest not to bust a fucking nut right now because obviously Javier was naked. That was his fucking job. That was his fucking job, too.

“Joel,” Dieter whispered. Joel looked at him, a slightly panicked look on his face. Dieter motioned for Joel to come over to him, so the older man did. “What’s goin’ on, huh?” Dieter asked quietly. Joel looked at Din wearily, who just smiled politely. “Oh, he’s not gonna say anything,” Dieter smiled, leaning over to give Din a quick kiss.

“‘M just,” Joel sighed. “Think he thinks I don’ like him.”

“Why would he think that?” Dieter pouted. When Joel didn’t answer right away, Dieter furrowed his brows at him. “Did you do that grumbly thing you always do?”

Joel mumbled under his breath and looked down at his boots.

“Miller! Get in frame,” Max barked.

Joel sighed and ruffled Dieter’s hair a little. “Showtime.”

Javier felt like his throat was on fire, tears were streaming down his cheeks, and he was having a hard time breathing. Joel’s cock felt so thick and hard inside his mouth and he was more turned on than he’d been in a long fucking time. 

“Yeah, shut ya up real good, huh?”

Javier moaned weakly, big brown eyes glassy as they looked up at Joel’s hard face. He choked every time the head of Joel’s cock hit the back of his throat but he couldn’t give a damn. This was probably the messiest head he’d ever given someone, slobber pouring out the sides of his mouth and down Joel’s shaft. 

Joel’s lines had instructed him to tell Javier to keep his hands to himself, so of course he obeyed. He dug the blunt nails of his fingers into his bare thighs so hard he was afraid that he’d break skin.

“Ain’t such a brat now that y’got a cock in your mouth, huh?” Joel sneered, tugging on Javier’s thick locks. Joel’s eyes were glued to Javier’s plump, swollen lips wrapped so tightly around his cock, that perfectly trimmed mustache framing them so beautifully. A full body shiver zipped down his spine when he saw the glossed over look in Javier’s eyes and tear tracks staining his cheeks. He shut his eyes in bliss and exhaled heavily as his hips moved of their own accord, his heavy balls slapping Javier’s chin lewdly.

Javier let out a low noise, his brows furrowing slightly. Joel looked down, worried he’d pushed too far, but saw that Javier was looking up at him with this fucking look in his eye. Even if Joel was technically in charge, at least in the script, he knew Javier had him hook, line, and sinker right now. And he thinks Javier knows that, too. 

Joel’s hips bucked at the twinkle in Javier’s eye, making Javier choke loudly. Slowly, Joel removed his cock from Javier’s swollen mouth. Loud, wet coughs left Javier’s lips, but he looked at Joel with a smirk on his face.

“Thought you were gonna fuck me, old man,” Javier rasped, sweat dripping down his neck.

“But you’d like that, wouldn’ya?” Joel grumbled. His cock throbbed heavily between thick, muscled thighs and Javier couldn’t take his eyes off it. The twitching made his own cock weep at the sight. “S’what I thought,” Joel hummed, harshly gripping Javier’s hair again. He curled thick fingers around the base of his cock and lewdly slapped the head against Javier’s tear-stricken face. 

Javier’s entire body shivered at the demeaning act and he bit his lip, looking at the hard lines in Joel’s face, and at the gray streaks in Joel’s hair. He was easily one of the most menacingly beautiful men he’d ever seen. He kissed and licked and sucked down the shaft of Joel’s cock until he sucked one of his heavy balls into his mouth. He moaned happily around the sensitive skin and looked back up at Joel through his lashes.

“Fuck me,” Joel groaned, breaking character slightly. He couldn’t fucking help it. Not when Javier was looking at him like that.

Javier made an approving sound and lewdly popped the ball out of his mouth, kissing up Joel’s soft, hairy stomach. “That’s my line,” he improvised with a grin, and sucked a dark mark into Joel’s hip.

Joel almost smiled, but at the last moment, remembered they were in fact not alone and had a script to follow. He quickly hardened his eyes and gripped Javier’s arms and manhandled him until Javier was laying over the arm of the couch, cock trapped between his body and the scratchy fabric.

“That what y’want, huh?” Joel grunted, gripping Javier’s ass in a bear paw. “Want me t’fuck this little ass until ya can’t walk no more?”

Javier moaned and arched his back, pushing his ass further into Joel’s hand and tried to grind against his cock. He nodded as much as he could with Joel pulling on his hair like he was, throat bared and panting hard. Joel pressed on Javier’s sweaty back to keep him down, before using both hands to slowly spread his cheeks. He groaned at the puckered little hole, carefully covered in lube from his earlier preparation. Pressing there with the pad of his thumb, he smirked when Javier moaned weakly below him.

“P-please, Joel,” Javier breathed heavily. Javi didn’t even recognize the sound of his own voice. He’d been built up too much and poked and prodded enough that he just needed something inside him already. “Please.”

“Hmm,” Joel hummed, pretending like he was thinking about it. He removed his hands from Javier to finally remove the t-shirt and jeans he was wearing. He could’ve sworn he heard someone from their little audience groan as his naked body was revealed, but he chose to ignore it, far too focused on the sight in front of him. “Don’t think so, sweetheart,” he grinned wickedly, his tone fake-sweet, and collected saliva in the back of his throat. He got down to his knees, thankful that the pillow there would be out of frame in the finished product. He spit directly onto Javi’s hole and gripped the small, plump cheeks in both hands. 

Javier gasped weakly, legs trembling under Joel’s ministrations. Joel was going to fucking kill him.

“Not yet, at least,” Joel mumbled, biting one of Javier’s cheeks before licking a thick stripe up from Javier’s taint to the top of his hole. A breathless huff left Javier’s lungs and his eyes rolled back at the feeling. “Y’mouth makes such pretty noises when ya ain’t runnin’ it,” was all the warning Javier had before Joel’s tongue pierced his hole and started fucking him in earnest.

Joel’s tongue was thick and wet and messy and he sucked loudly and slurped at a volume that should’ve been uncomfortable, but all Javier could do was moan and whimper, completely at Joel’s mercy. His eyebrows were downturned and his lips were parted in an obscene O, arms shaking as he held himself up on the couch. “Mm, fuck, J-Joel, I’m gonna fucking come, I’m–!” He was babbling and trembling and covered in a thin layer of sweat. He barely heard anything over the roaring in his ears.

“No, you’re not,” Joel grumbled between the lewd feast he was enjoying, landing a harsh smack! against one of Javier’s cheeks. “Don’t come until I say ya do.”

Javier groaned and bit his lip, his trapped cock weeping and throbbing between his legs. “Mierda,” he panted, hanging his head low between his shoulders. He tried grinding against the scratchy fabric of the couch for some kind of friction, but to no avail.

Joel grunted into Javier’s ass, convinced that he could stay here for hours if he was allowed. When he pulled his face away, his eyes latched onto the fluttering little hole in front of him and hummed in satisfaction. As he stood, his knees whined and creaked in protest and hopefully, if Max were nice to him for once, he’d edit the sounds out. 

Broad hands traveled up Javier’s heated skin, taking him all in as he panted heavily underneath the older man. He knew today would be good but nothing could’ve prepared him for this. Maybe he should keep his distance from Joel more often, if this was the end result.

Joel was ecstatic on the inside, the memories of their first scene together coming back to him. He’d almost forgotten just how pliant and cat-like Javier could get if pushed enough. The sounds he made were like music to Joel’s ears, and he wished he could keep them in a bottle reserved just for himself. 

He gripped Javier’s sides and manhandled him again until Javier was on his knees on one of the cushions and facing the back of the couch, hands planted on the back. Joel spread Javier’s cheeks again and hummed at the way the younger man clenched on instinct. He left Javier in that position for a second while he went over to an assistant off camera and grabbed some lube, making quick work of getting his cock thoroughly coated. He held Javier’s side, right where his ribs were, with one hand and gripped his cock with the other, grinding his shaft between Javier’s cheeks. 

Javier cried out loud, electricity shooting through his body and settling as heat at the base of his spine. 

Joel grinned, tapping the head of his cock against Javier’s hole before slowly, agonizingly so, pushed the thick head inside him. The air left Javier’s lungs as he froze, the pressure and the weight of being so thoroughly stretched overwhelming him. He grunted as Joel’s hips sat flush against his ass, breathing heavily as his arms trembled against the back of the couch. Joel stroked Javier’s flanks, letting him adjust for only a moment before he pulled out until just the head was left inside and slammed back inside.

“Fuck! Oh, fuck...” Javier moaned, his back arching.

“Aww, you’re alright,” Joel smirked. He hovered over Javier’s body, nearly covering him entirely with how much bulk there was. He curled an arm over Javier’s right shoulder and gripped onto the younger man’s left pec to press Javier’s back into his chest. He kissed along Javier’s shoulder and up his neck until he nibbled on Javi’s earlobe, moaning lowly as the younger man clenched around his shaft. “Y’gonna be good? Gonna let me fuck ya?”

“Sí, coño– Please, Joel,” Javier whined, resting his head on Joel’s shoulder and panting into the open air. “Por favor damelo.”

So Joel did. Before either of them knew it, Joel was fucking into Javier in earnest, his hips slapping against Javier’s ass obscenely. Javier was making the neediest little sounds, chanting Joel’s name like a prayer. Javier’s cock was hard as a rock and lewdly slapping against his skin with every one of Joel’s harsh thrusts.

Joel hid his face in Javier’s neck, panting hotly against the younger man’s already damp skin. With his right arm already wrapped around Javier’s torso, he gripped at Javier’s hip with his left hand, fingers digging into the (surprisingly) soft skin. Javier didn’t have a whole lot of fat on his body, but there was enough to ripple every time Joel jackhammered into him.

“F-fuck,” he gulped, lips parted and eyes half lidded. The pressure was building low in his abdomen. He knew he was close. “J-Joel, I’m–” His mouth was as dry as the desert. “I’m gonna come, I–”

Joel growled. Literally. He bit Javier’s cheek and growled. “Not yet. Jus’ a li’l longer,” he panted. He moved his hand from Javier’s pec to his throat, and carefully, expertly, squeezed the sides. They’d talked about doing this with Max and both had consented to it. They knew how to do it right.

Slowly, as Javier’s air supply was marginally cut off, a wide smile grew on his face. His eyes shut and he was smiling, biting his lip. He felt so fucking good. He wanted to do this again and this time wasn’t even over yet.

Joel must have noticed because he chuckled next to Javier’s ear, hips never letting up once. “Yeah? Feel good, sweetheart?”

Javier nodded as much as he could, nails digging into the shitty couch and pulling hard.

“Good boy,” Joel rumbled, slowing down his hips, but not letting up on how hard he was thrusting. Javier’s breath hitched with every one of Joel’s slow, measured thrusts. Joel’s hand slid from Javier’s hip down to curl around the younger man’s cock. It was like someone had poured ice cold water over Javier’s head, because the pressure was just what he’d needed.

“S-sí, sí, please, p-please,” Javier gasped, a tear falling from his eye.

“Fuck, look at ya,” Joel marveled, slowly stroking Javier’s cock teasingly. “Pretty as a god damn picture, sweetheart.”

Javier opened his eyes as wide as he could and tried looking at Joel for the first time since he was on his knees. When their eyes locked, Javier could have sworn that there was a different man behind Joel’s baby browns. Perhaps that was the real Joel, and not whoever was on camera. Not whoever had been avoiding him for the better part of two years. No, it couldn’t be. Could it?

“Want ya t’come for me,” Joel breathed hotly against his face. Javier shivered all over and nodded as much as he could with Joel’s bear paw of a hand around his throat. “Can ya do that, sweetheart? Come for me.”

Javier grunted as Joel picked up the pace of his hips again, but this time with his other hand tightly gripped around his shaft. Joel teased the head with his thumb just as he slammed directly into Javier’s prostate over and over.

Javier cried weakly, one more tear falling from his eye, and came hard. Thick, creamy spurts of cum painted the set’s couch as Javier trembled with his release.

Joel held him close, their sweaty bodies sticking together as Joel thrust one, two, three more times and followed Javier over the edge. He came with a low roar buried into Javier’s neck and cock twitching violently in Javier’s ass.

The set was dead silent save for Joel and Javier’s heavy breathing. Max kept the camera rolling, stunned into silence for once. 

Javier smiled to himself, eyes shut in bliss, and head resting on Joel’s shoulder. He clenched around Joel’s sensitive cock in little pulses. “Fuck me,” he croaked, voice wrecked.

Joel grunted at the overstimulation and gently held Javier’s hips as he slowly pulled out. Javier leaned forward against the back of the couch and pushed his ass out so the camera (and their audience) could see the thick cum trailing down his thighs. Joel’s hands rubbed Javier’s skin appreciatively at the sight, his cock giving one last valiant twitch.

“C-cut,” Max’s voice cracked, making him clear his throat. “Cut.”

In the corner, Dieter trembled and moaned weakly into Din’s neck as he came, Din’s thick fingers curled around his cock. 

Javier turned his head back to look at Joel with a satisfied smile on his face. “Mind gettin’ me a towel, guapo?”

Joel’s cheeks flushed, completely out of character again. “‘Course,” he mumbled, slowly standing to ask one of the assistants for a towel.

“Jesus Christ, boys,” Max chuckled.

Javier hummed in agreement.

“That was… That was somethin’ else, Jav,'' Steve said, impressed.

They were both outside, having their usual post-shoot cigarette together. No matter if they’d done a scene together or separately, they always kept up the tradition. This time, though, Javier thought he’d need several cigarettes. And a bath.

“Thank you,” Javier grinned, feeling lighter and more satisfied than he had in weeks. He could swear that the crick in his neck he’d woken up with was completely gone. Maybe there was some truth to Silva’s back pain disappearing after certain sessions.

“S’pose ya don’t gotta tell me, since I saw it myself, but was it like you thought it’d be?” Steve chuckled.

Javier snorted in response, taking a long drag off his cigarette. “And then some.”

Din smiled gently down at Dieter, giving him a slow, soft kiss. “I’ll see you tonight?” 

Dieter smiled wide and nodded giddily, getting on his tiptoes to wrap his arms around Din’s neck one more time to give him another kiss. Joel could swear he saw hearts in his eyes. 

Once Dieter came back over to Joel, he had a sheepish expression on his face. “Sorry, just had to say goodbye.”

Joel smiled softly. “Don’ worry yourself over it. Y’all are cute together.”

“You think?” Dieter beamed. “We had a scene the other day and we just haven’t stopped texting, and– Oh my god, this isn’t about me right now, I’m sorry.”

Joel chuckled and followed Dieter into the hallway so the cleaning crew could get to work. Dieter scratched at his beard as he looked at Joel: he seemed lighter, with a healthy glow radiating off of him.

“Well?”

Joel cleared his throat and dug his hands into his pockets, shrugging a little. “What?”

“Don’t ‘what’ me, old man! That was fucking hot! I came so hard!”

Joel laughed, rolling his eyes at his friend. “Thank you.”

“So? You gonna ask him out? Or at least apologize for earlier?”

“Yeah, I will. And uh… Yeah, I plan to,” Joel sighed, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. “Don’t exactly know how I’m gonna do that, though…”

“Well, you better think of something quick!” Dieter whispered, pointing towards the end of the hall as Javier rounded the corner with Steve.

“Shit,” Joel whispered to himself. Dieter gave him a wink and thumbs up before heading in the opposite direction. 

Javier had his regular clothes on again, and Joel couldn’t take his eyes off him, enamored with how well they fit him. He may have just been inside the man, but he couldn’t help himself. 

“Hey, Joel,” Javier smiled awkwardly. He still wasn’t sure where they stood outside of working together, so he tried to keep it as casual as possible.

“H-hey, Javier,” Joel said hoarsely. He cleared his throat again.

“Y’know, you’re the only one that doesn’t call me Javi,” he said softly.

“Oh,” Joel furrowed his brow. “‘M sorry. My mama always taught me an’ my baby brother it was more polite that way.”

“You have a baby brother?” Javier smiled.

“Uh…” Joel gulped. “Y-yeah. Tommy.”

Javier hummed in response, an amused look crossing his features. He’s slowly figuring Joel out, he thinks. “He just as handsome as you? Bet he is,” he flirted.

The tips of Joel’s ears went pink and he laughed around an awkward cough. “Nah. Don’ cut his hair enough to be respectable.”

“Mm, more to pull then,” Javier smirked.

Joel made a face, not wanting to think of his brother like that. “L-listen, uh. ’m sorry ‘bout earlier. Wasn’t right talkin’ to ya like that,” he mumbled, unable to look Javier in the eye just yet.

Every bit of tension Javier felt left his body in an instant. “Thank you. I appreciate that, Joel.”

Joel nodded, a shy smile on his face. “‘S good,” he said awkwardly.

They were quiet for a few moments before Javier pulled out his pack of cigarettes, sticking one between his lips. “Well, you built up quite the appetite in me, so I’m gonna go–”

“Do you wanna go out sometime?” Joel blurted out. “N-now, maybe?”

Javier blinked a few times as a smile grew on his lips. “You’re asking me out? Gotta be honest, I thought you hated me, Joel.”

Joel snapped his eyes up at that, confusion all over his face. “What? No! I–” He sighed. “‘M no good at this,” he grumbled to himself. “’m sorry. Again.”

Javier chuckled and took the cigarette out of his mouth. “‘s alright. I’d love to.”

“Yeah?” Joel smiled, cheeks flushed and eyes wide. 

“Yeah, guapo. You already got dessert, but dinner sounds great.”

[redgoldblue]

sell your fear and leave me standing here

buck/tommy, 12.9k, T, triple pov (Buck; Tommy; Eddie). yet another 8x06 fix-it, featuring gay bingo, firefam input, and bonus Lucy Donato

The first Eddie hears of the breakup is, “Eddie, what the fuck just happened?”

Eddie’s finished his beer and is still basking in a post-Risky Business glow, and for a moment he thinks Buck’s talking about the fact that he’s not wearing pants.

“I don’t know, Buck,” he replies, just for fun. “You tell me.”

“Eddie,” he repeats. That makes Eddie sit up straighter, except that his shirt is way slipperier than he thought and his legs are stuck to the couch, and the combination somehow leads to him half-sliding half-falling off the couch as Buck continues, “I think Tommy just dumped me.”

It also mean his initial response is, “Ow!”

Buck peers down at him. “Yeah. Want a hand up?”

“I got it.” He pushes himself back up and collapses back on the couch. “You think?” he asks.

“No, he definitely did. I checked.”

“What the fuck?”

“That’s what I said!”

“That’s-” Well, the glow is abating now. If the fall hadn’t done it already. “Okay, tell me what happened.”

“It was great. We were great. And I scared him off. I think. Maybe. We were going to a movie. And then he called me Buck.”

Eddie bites back on his first response of ‘that’s your name’, because after a few seconds considering it he does get how that would seem weird after six months of ‘Evan’. Instead, he makes a ‘go on’ gesture.

“I told him about Abby. And I’d talked to Josh. I didn’t tell him that, that happened before, but Josh talked to me.”

“Hang on, hang on, rewind,” Eddie says. At this rate it might take him until tomorrow’s shift to get the full story, but he needs to clarify something here. “What about Abby?”

“Oh, right, I only told Maddie. Yeah, he was engaged to Abby. And I didn’t tell him that was my Abby when he told me, because, I mean-”

“What the fuck,” Eddie supplies. It seems to be the phrase of the moment.

“Yeah,” Buck agrees. He’d emptied his beer bottle about a minute after sitting down, and rather than reaching for another one he’s just been turning it round and round in his hands. He stops, now, and starts picking at the corner of the label instead. “And I talked to Josh about it, because I was talking to Maddie about it and he was there, and he- he gave me a speech about Glee, and it made me think, I guess, so then before we went to the movie I told Tommy-”

“Oh, god, Buck,” Eddie interrupts, because there’s so much happening here and it’s all heading in a truly terrible direction, and maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if they started work before he has to hear the end of it. “Did you tell him you love him? Before he broke up with you?”

“I mean, no,” Buck says, but it’s completely unconvincing and he’s drooped even further into the couch. “Worse.”

“Worse?”

Buck’s next words are mumbled under his breath, and it genuinely takes Eddie a moment to figure out what they are. “I-asked-him-to-move-in.”

Eddie blinks, processes that, then reaches over to grab another beer bottle. He gently pulls the now thoroughly de-labelled one from Buck’s hands and replaces it with good hard alcohol. Then he says, “So just to be clear, you asked him to move in with you after six months, and he dumped you for it? Do you want me to kick his ass? I absolutely can, he’s not as good at Muay Thai as he thinks he is.”

Buck chuckles. It sounds a little like a dying frog. “No. He said- I don’t know, I went too fast. He didn’t say that. He said he wasn’t going to be my last.”

“Dick,” Eddie says, because Tommy is his friend and he’s sure there was more going on, but Buck is his best friend who just got dumped, and that requires a little name-calling.

Buck’s face scrunches up, eyes closed, as he says, “He said I was going to break his heart.”

“So he broke yours first?”

“Yeah,” Buck says, and it sounds strained enough that Eddie slips closer on instinct. It’s a good thing he did, because Buck continues, “I guess so,” then turns towards him, and suddenly there’s the weight of a Buck against him and a wet feeling on his shoulder. “Oh, fuck, Eddie,” and the next words come out on a whole-hearted sob, “I loved him.”

~

The second thing Eddie hears about the breakup is, “Eddie, what the fuck happened, man?”

keep reading on ao3

[zer0brainc3lls]

My compass: The prologue

masterlist

Story summary: Thomas has finally made it to the right arm, but to his shock and dismay Teresa has revealed their location to Wicked. in the crossfire Newt gets kidnapped by Wicked. will Thomas be able to save him and figure out their complicated relationship? or will Newt never return and will Thomas be left yearning for his "best friend" to return?

TW LIST: typical dystopian violence, mentions of kidnapping, and super super gay yearning LOL

Genre: canon divergence (what if Newt was taken instead of Minho?), Friends to Lovers, Angst

Word count: 2.9k

“Please don't fight them Thomas.” Teresa turns back to Thomas, tears flood her eyes as she begs. The world seems to stop spinning at the words, as if time itself came to a halt the moment Thomas's eyes landed on the bergs in the distance, their light’s burning his whole body with rage and terror. 

“What have you done?? What have you done?!” his nerves ignite as he speaks, his body searing with hatred and the heartache of betrayal. He stumbles back, the rocky mountain hard against his heavy feet. The whirring sound of the bergs getting closer brings his body to life once more, turning around and flying down the mountain, his feet barely making contact with the ground before taking another long quick stride. Paying little to no mind of the descent, his legs were much less mindful then when he made the journey to Teresa not even 5 minutes before. 

He makes it down the mountain, screaming the whole way as a warning and to attempt to lift the pain in his chest. He dashes across the now flat ground and watches the helicopter rain down balls of fire onto the right arm, the impact of the bomb forces his legs to fumble, almost tripping over his own two feet as he picks himself back up into a run towards the medical tent. It feels as if his body caves in on itself at the sight of the now alit tent, heat from the fire warms his face.

“BRENDA?!” his voice tears out from his throat as he screams for her, he feels smaller hands grab onto his jacket. He whips around to see Brenda, buzz cut and all behind him. His terror comes to a halt for a brief moment at the sight of his friend, before coming back in full swing once she once brings him back to the present moment. 

“You dumbass!” she exclaims, grabbing hold of his jacket sleeve pulling him away from the ablaze tent. He stumbles after her, her legs much more stable than his own as she pulls him behind a large plastic box, Jorge already behind it. 

“We have to go, now!” Jorge commands, his wide eyes trained on Thomas. The smell of ash and.. Electricity? Stings the inside of his nose. 

“We have to go find Newt and the others-” his tongue moving before his brain, his tone distant as his subconscious already begins to brew an impulsive plan. 

“NO! NO!” - Jorges voice booms through his skull, a hint of desperation in his tone. Thomas has only heard him speak like this in times of Brenda's safety, if it weren't for the circumstances Thomas would feel cared for but in this moment all he can feel is worry. Jorge grabs the back of Thomas's jacket and yanks him back, using his other arm to point to the chaos in front of them. - “DON'T GO OUT THERE! LOOK! LOOK!” Thomas forces himself to let the chaos sink into his bones and allow himself to keep his feet unmoving as he watches as wicked soldiers stun teens and adults to the ground, bodies litter the ground that got hit in the blast. 

Thomas’s eyes search frantically for Newt and the others, his eyes fall on his friends and Newt huddled around a tank with firearms laid in hands and bullets finding homes in wicked soldiers' limbs and chests. Thomas’s attention is turned to what seems to be a black cylinder with parts that glow.. Blue?? What is that-

The cylinder lands in the tank before Thomas gets the opportunity to process what was just thrown, he realizes too late that it's a stun grenade as he watches as his friends bodies convulse violently and flop to the ground like ragdolls, even worse? The soldiers nod to each other and approach them as if they are ragdolls. defeat bubbles in his gut at the sight, a soldier goes to lift Newt by the arm. Thomas turns around and sits against the box as nausea threatens to take over.

“I'm sorry. There's nothing you can do for them, if we don't move now, we won't be much better off.” Jorges tone starts as comforting and slowly twists with commandment, Thomas knows he can't go with them. Brenda and Jorge aren't the ones they want, and he doesnt think he would be able to live with himself at the thought of his friends being tortured while he lives. 

“You guys gotta go right now.”

“What?!” Brenda questions harshly.

“They're not looking for you, you’ll be safe but you have to go now!” 

“Thomas..” 

Thomas pauses as he tries to convey his thoughts into sounds. “I cant leave without em.” he reasons, Thomas looks between Brenda and Jorge and notices how Jorge’s eyes flick to Brenda at his words.

“Good luck kid. Bren we have to go c’mon.” his voice thick with understandment, a weight is pulled off Thomas’s chest and he finds air again. He can't watch as Jorge and Brenda run off, his eyes trained on the bag Jorge left behind. The bag.. With the bomb..

He shoves the bomb and the trigger into his red pocket that rests on the inside of his jacket. Newt had sewn on the secret pocket for him days prior, his lean hands steady and unwavering as the needle with thread tied to the end was pinched between his fingers stitched mismatched fabric to his jacket. He shakes the distracting thought out of his mind as he stands up and walks over to the scene, the people who survived the bombing were on their knees lined up in groups. He pauses for a moment and gains his composure, the bomb pressed against his ribs giving him courage. 

“Where's Thomas?!” the navally voice that belongs to the Ratman shouts out.

“Right here.” Thomas announces, slowly putting his hands up as a wicked soldier grabs him like an object to be thrown around. The soldier shoves him forward towards Janson, bright lights move across the ground but his eyes aren't focused on the light, or Janson. His eyes search for golden hair in the sea of people, eventually his eyes land on Newt. The boy's hazel eyes wide in shock and worry as his eyes lock on Thomas, Newt’s hair is covered in dirt and his face adorn a few new scraps and cuts.

Before he knows it Janson has socked him in the gut, he doubles over in pain as he is shoved to the ground next to Minho. 

“Why didn't you run?” Minho questions, not looking at Thomas as he asks but instead to the ground. Thomas takes in a breath of air that's thick with dust and heat that’s now thicker in the air due to the rain of fire.

“I'm tired of running.” he answers, his eyes trained on Ava as she speaks to Janson. His mind drifts from everything and focuses on Ava Paige, she looks as if she's discussing the product of merchandise. Disgusting. His body urges for movement, for action. But he keeps his knees planted into the hard ground, well at least until a soldier forces him to his feet once more. He locks eyes with the icy haired women before him, willing his eyes to burn through her skull.

Her attention is turned to Teresa, who is walking to stand next to her. 

“I'm glad you're safe.” she says softly, gesturing for her to stand with her. 

“What the hell..? Teresa?” Frypan begins, pain swirls in his voice. 

“Wait what's going on?” Newt's tone layered with no pain but instead confusion, and anger if you look hard enough.

“She's with them.” Thomas answers, venom on his tongue. 

“Since when?!” Minho starts, denial thick. Both him and Newt turn their heads to face Thomas for answers. 

“Oh Teresa has always had an appreciation for the evolved greater good, once we restored her memories it was only a matter of time.” Janson replies to the question despite it not being for him to answer, speaking as if discussing the weather. As he walks over to join the conversation he walks behind Teresa and Ava, eventually landing on Ava's right. Minho and Newt turn to Teresa, Minho's eyes layered in disbelief, disgust in Newt's. Teresa lifts her head and her eyes widen slightly at their expressions, somehow surprised by their clear indifference. 

“I'm sorry. I had no choice, this is the only way! We have to find a cure.” Thomas’s repulsed at her words, his neck turning away on its own. Ava begins to monologue but Thomas doesn't listen, her speech being a washed out and overused reason for torture and pain hes sure hes heard before. 

“We just need more time.” she ends, her tone going from harsh to desperate.

“More blood.” Mary's voice picks up from behind them.

“Hello mary. I’d hope we’d meet again, I'm sorry it had to be under these circumstances.” Ava responds with genuine sadness in her voice. Well that's a first.

“I'm sorry ‘bout a lot of things too. But not this! At Least my conscious is clear!”  

“So is mine” Ava responds after a moment's hesitation, her voice deadpan. A gunshot rang out as maries body dropped to the floor, Vince pushed himself out of soldiers hands and held her, shouting out her name and pleads of denial. Thomas’s eyes trained on Jansons handgun he tucks away carefully into his own jacket pocket, maybe if he had someone to sew on his jacket pockets he wouldn't have turned out so cruel, so vile. His body courses with hatred for the Ratman and sadness for Vince, Ava’s voice begins to bark out orders to soldiers. 

A soldier goes to grab him by the sleeve but they are too little too late because his fingers have found a home around the bomb tucked in his jacket, he pulls the bomb out while elbowing the soldier in the jaw. “GET BACK!! GET BACK!” he shouts, the thin trigger for the bomb in his other hand, the bright red button covered with his thumb. He throws his body around frantically showing the bomb to all. Janson barks out orders to the soldiers to hold their fire, step one. 

“LET THEM GO!! LET THEM ALL GO!!” he demands, his eyes widened with rage. His hand with the trigger gesturing wildly to the immunes being loaded onto bergs. 

“You know I can't do that!” Ava steps forward, Teresa following suit.

“Thomas please stop! I made a deal with them, they promised! They promised we’d be safe, all of us!” Teresa pleads, as if her voice would be the one to guide him. 

“Yeah so I'm supposed to trust you now?!” He spat back, avoiding her eyes.

“It's true it was her only condition!” Lies. all lies. He can't trust them, all Wicked does is lie lie lie. The fake sun in the glade, Janson being “against” Wicked, and now this?! He can't trust anyone except the people beside him now. Newt and Minho, the only one he would bring his walls down for. From the moment the doors to the box opened and his life began they were the only people still around who would follow him to the ends of the earth, he too, would follow them into the belly of the beast if the time came. 

“SHUT UP!!” His grip around the trigger tightens, along with his throat. 

“Everything can go back to the way it was, Thomas. Do you really want all of them to die?” Ava’s words make it through his ears, this, he cannot ignore. Can he really press the button, killing all his friends and Newt? Could he die with their blood on his hands? 

“Listen to her, Thomas, think about what you're doing.” His nerves no longer buzz as tears fill his eyes, his breath shaky as he looks at Ava and Teresa side by side. The ground crunches with footsteps walking behind him. 

He turns around to see Frypan, Minho and Newt all standing with him. Their final stand. 

“We’re with you Thomas.” Newt says with no tremor, the use of his name instead of the endearing nickname he was given showing the extent of his words. 

“No..” Teresa's voice fades.

“Dont.” Ava says, shaking her head.

“Do it Thomas.” Minho nods reassuringly, courage thick in the action. 

“We’re ready.” Frypan follows up, his voice breathless. 

“We’re not going back there.” Thomas finishes all their thoughts.

“Thomas-” Ava begins

“This is the only way.” Thomas interrupts, his thumb shaking with strain above the trigger. Thomas pulls his eyes closed bracing himself for the impact, just as he's about to press down he hears the blaring of a car in the distance..?! 

Jorges truck comes back in full swing, driving manically with no sense of direction as he crashes into a large helicopter, the chopper falls to its side, the propellers being crushed. 

That crazy son of a bitch!

Members of the right arm move frantically at the opportunity, punches thrown at the opposite side and Vince’s voice urging them to run. Thomas and the small group around him stumble back to their feet from falling during the vehicles colliding, Thomas turns around to see  Wicked soldiers' stun guns raised barking orders to Thomas. Thomas chucks the bomb towards them and shrieks for everyone to get down, taking a few long strides before collapsing to the ground, pulling the trigger forcing a large blast to take out the Wicked soldiers. 

Thomas crawls through the crowd of dust and smoke, Janson somehow spots him through the dust storm and backhands him across the cheek, Thomas rolls to the ground at the impact and turns up to see the Ratman pointing a large handgun towards his forehead. 

“What a waste.” he comments with a stern expression, just as he's about to pull the trigger a gunshot blasts from somewhere in the distance, hitting him in the shoulder causing him to fall to the ground. Thomas turns to see the shooter to be Brenda. Brenda!!

Brenda and Jorge’s spray of bullets cause Wicked soldiers to fall to their feet in a puddle of their own vile blood, Thomas takes the opportunity and dashes towards Minho and other members of the right arm. 

“Go on Tommy I got it!” Newt stands with a sniper in his hands, gesturing for Thomas to run past him while he covers. 

“Be careful Newt!” Thomas quickly replies, patting Newt on the shoulder as he runs past. A careful smile plays on Newt's lips before turning back into a scowl as his sniper spits bullets into soldiers' flesh. Thomas runs behind a large supply crate accompanying Minho and Jorge, Jorge urges him to stay down but Thomas can't pull his eyes away from the mop of blonde hair meters in front of him. Thomas silently urges him to run, to move to do something besides stand there, His heart swells with pride despite this at the fact Newt is making a stand and assisting in their escape.

Newt's head lowers for a split second to reload his gun, and in that split second a soldier raises their stun gun and pulls the trigger, forcing a wavering groan from the blonde as he collapses to the ground. This time Thomas's mouth moves before he does as he shrieks his name. 

“NEWT!!” he rises to his feet to run to the crumpled boy, hands grab him and pull him away from the scene in front of him. The world spins as he fights back against the unforgiving hands, shouting out pleads and begs to be let go.

“WE CAN'T LEAVE HIM THERE!!” His voice tears through his throat.

“JORGE LET ME GO.” He thrashes his arms violently. 

His loud cries turn into soft begs and eventually he finds himself being dragged away from the berg, his feet somehow moving backwards as he repeats Newt's name, as if maybe just maybe, if he calls for him loud enough Newt will rise from his dazed state come running just as he has done countless times before. As if his cries will be enough to bring him back to Thomas. 

Somehow, someway he is pulled away as he watches Newt’s limp body be pulled onto the berg. Once the remaining gladers and the right arm realize wicked is no longer coming after them they all come to a stop and Thomas's eyes follow the soldiers dragging Newt forward as if his heavy gaze will be enough to make them drop Newt to the ground. Thomas’s eyes trail down to the white fabric tied to Newt's wrist, the same white cloth with small red flowers sewn onto the inside of his jacket. Thomas can almost hear Newt's voice insisting on keeping the remaining fabric “since you're a klutz you’ll probably tear it wont ya tommy?” 

His fingertips rub the pockets delicate fabric, tears pool in his eyes and wet his cheeks as he watches Newt's body slowly leave his view, the bergs doors coming to a close. Thomas’s gaze follows the berg until it disappears into the starry sky. His breath shaky as he presses his lips into a tight line. “I'm coming for you Newt.” he whispers to himself softly, a wave of déjà vu crashes over him. He drops his head to the ground and closes his eyes, silently promising himself to bring Newt back to him, that tonight will not be the final time he gets to see Newt's smile.

NEXT

Authors note: THIS WAS SO FUN TO WRITE HELLO?!?!? i know the part up to Newts kidnapping was basically just a novelization of the movie an i apologies, i really didn't want to skip to the part where Newt is taken as the moment Teresa betrays him is super important to the story. this will most likely be a 3-5 chapter story not including the prologue so i hope yall enjoy the ride ahead lol!! buckle up cause its about to get angsty

my ao3: n0th0ughtz

people who wished to be tagged: @ermdotorg (if you want to be added to the tag list just say so in the comments and ill tag ya next time <3)

[frostyblustar]

Percico Week Day 1: Percy pining after Nico

Prompt from @percico-nicercy-events

Blue was Percy’s color. It seemed everyone agreed with the idea, and he was happy with it. However, maybe it was Nico’s color too.

That was Percy’s current thought process as he watched Nico emerge from his bedroom, in his hoodie, in his apartment.

Everyone was heading home after Percy’s birthday party, which had lasted well into the night, except himself and Nico. Nico had recently been evicted from his own apartment, and was now couch surfing. Upon hearing this news, Percy instantly offered his own dwelling. What friend wouldn’t?

Back to the hoodie, Percy wasn’t really sure why seeing Nico in clothing slightly too big for him affected him in such a way. Maybe it was how Nico played with the sleeves? Or how when Percy saw him, Nico instantly put the hood up like he was embarrassed?

Percy couldn’t help but want to reach out to pull it down, exposing the black locks of hair underneath that seemed to be getting longer every time they met. Not only that, but also revealing Nico’s face.

“You suit the hoodie well! I’ll make sure your clothes are clean for tomorrow. I really just didn’t want you sleeping in your day clothes y’know?” He smiled cheerfully, praying to the gods that his demeanor didn’t give away how in awe he was.

“Yeah uh, thank you. It’s comfortable. The hoodie, I mean.” Nico kept his head down, moving over to the couch just to almost comically fall sideways onto it. His legs hung over the armrest before he pulled them into his chest.

Percy snorted, but also couldn’t help but cringe at how firm he knew that couch was. It wouldn’t feel great to sleep on. “I should get you a bed.” He spoke quietly, he wasn’t even sure if Nico could hear his contemplation.

Nico picked up his head, looking up at Percy with almost comedic determination. “A couch will be fine.” Percy shook his head in disagreement.

“No, you deserve better than a couch. I don’t want your back to be hurting.” Struggling to think of a solution that would be currently available, his mind went to the only bed in the small apartment. “Why don’t you take my bed?”

He watched Nico sit up, he looked as if he was confused by even the idea of it. Was it really such a crazy idea? Worry seeped into Percy. It was becoming apparent that he liked Nico, to himself at least. But if Nico was upset at the mere thought of sleeping in a bed he had once occupied, then he would likely try to discard his affectionate thoughts to the deepest recesses of his mind.

“Aren’t you uncomfortable with that? Sharing a bed with a gay guy?” Percy almost felt like time stopped for a moment. Nico was getting the wrong idea. He was offering Nico the bed for himself and himself alone, Percy was going to take the couch. However, it felt more important to clarify something else first.

Realizing what he was about to admit, Percy took a breath. “I wouldn’t be opposed to it. I’ve been starting to think I’m bi actually, but don’t tell anyone else yet. Especially Jason, he’ll try to throw a coming out party for me like he did with Piper.”

Nico chuckled before getting up off the couch, “Let’s sleep in your bed then.”

Now, Percy found himself in the same bed as a sound asleep Nico, curled up on the right side of the bed, softly snoring the night away. He was barely visible in the darkness, but Percy took time to let his eyes adjust so he could gaze upon whom he realized was his crush.

Wow, misunderstandings in conversations weren’t always terrible.

If you want more from me, I have 2 currently finished (and decently long) Percico fics on my AO3 here. Thanks for reading!

[etherealspacejelly]

ok so i just watched star trek the motion picture for the third time and this time it was the directors cut with the extra scenes, and i have some Thoughts™️that may or may not be entirely coherant but i need to share them

here is my in depth literary analysis of why star trek the motion picture is the greatest queer love story ever written (/hj). buckle up because this is gonna be a long one

so our story starts (after the klingon cold open ofc) with spock on vulcan, during the final ceremony in which he is supposed to acheive kohlinar, the purging of all emotion. now, right off the bat, i want to make a comparison to conversion therapy/being closeted/repressed here. spock is trying to repress an entire side to himself, a part of him that is inherantly different to those around him, in order to be accepted in society. spock is already a very queer coded character, and i think reading this scene through that lens is a valid interpretation, especially considering everything else that happens in this movie.

the ceremony stops before its completion. because spock has Not purged all of his emotions. a consciousness calls to him from the sky. now, i think this line could be interpreted one of two ways. either this 'consciousness' is v'ger, or its jim. i think the writers intended it to be v'ger, but in the context of the scene it sounds a lot more like jim. of course jim would be the one preventing spock from purging his emotions: jim is the reason for many of spocks emotional slip-ups throughout the series. he fears for jims life when he is in danger, he feels friendship for jim but also shame about those feelings (that shame is also queercoded, but thats not the point of this post so i wont get into it here). he feels compassion for jim. he feels loyalty and a sense of duty to him. these feelings are so strong that he cannot purge them fully.

so what does spock do? he off goes in search of something that he feels will help him achieve his goal. he wants peace within himself, to find a balance between his two opposing mindsets, that of logic and that of emotion. purging all emotion was unsuccessful, so what else can he do?

he feels that v'ger is a being of pure logic, and wants to understand it, in hopes of achieving that for himself. in the process he meets up with jim again. now, you would think, that a vulcan nearing kohlinar who has been training for years to purge all of his emotions and act purely logically would not stop to change clothes and cut his hair when on his way to acheive LITERALLY HIS LIFE GOAL that is super important to him. and yet. when spock turns up on the enterprise hes wearing his nicest black robes and has his classic bangs back. why is that mr spock?? why would you take the time to do that?? especially when he then immediately changes into his uniform.

and while we're on the topic of clothes, what does jim do immediately after spock boards the enterprise? thats right folks, he changes into a shirt that shows off his arms and has a v-neck to show off his chest. any. particular reason for that jim? when you said just a moment ago that every minute counts and the earth is in danger? hmm. interesting.

and then of course we get that exchange between jim, spock, and bones. where jim 'needs' spock. just like he needed bones. theres a desparation in his eyes, he wants HIS spock back, and hes not seeing that spock in front of him. the conversation ends with jim looking dejected, since spock only seems to be there out of convenience and not because he Wants to be. wonder why that is...

of course then spock mind melds with v'ger. and to do so he has to. go through a very sphincter-like opening. and says he has 'penetrated' the next chamber. now im just saying. if anything is a metaphor for gay sex, this has to be, right?

anyway.

spock mind melds with v'ger and is flung back into jims arms. because of course he is. and what did he learn from the whole experience? that v'ger is pure logic, and therefore cannot experience beauty, imagination, and "this simple feeling". wait. hang on. what simple feeling would that be, spock? the one you're talking about while holding jim's hand (HANDS?? VULCAN HOLDING HANDS?? HELLO???) and staring into each others eyes? what feeling would that be, i wonder?

and then. SPOCK CRIES. for v'ger. he 'weeps for v'ger as he would for a brother". v'ger is 'empty', as spock was when he came aboard. "incomplete, and searching. logic and knowledge are not enough," he says. bones asks if spock has found what he needed, and v'ger hasnt. spock says that v'ger wants to know what it was meant to be, to reach out and touch its creator.

spock is crying because he empathises with v'ger. v'gers journey parallels his own. they were both empty beings of pure logic. spock found his fulfilment in... what exactly? its not explicitly clear. but if we continue the spock/v'ger parallel to its conclusion, what do we find?

v'ger has taken ilia's form, and decker decides to merge with v'ger not only to save earth, but also to reunite with the woman he loves. v'ger becomes satisfied only when this happens. so... spock found his fulfilment by reuniting with someone he loves? if we take this in context with the 'this simple feeling' scene, the queer subtext is right there.

at the end of the movie, spock is offered to return to vulcan, and he refuses, stating that his business there is finished. he has achieved his goal of finding peace within himself. not by purging all emotion, but by embracing emotion, alongside logic, and allowing himself to feel what he has repressed his entire life. he resumes his place at jims side, which, as edith keeler stated, is where he belongs.

this movie is a queer story, and i will die on this hill. all of the evidence together stacks up that way. it is a story of repression, self acceptance, and love.

ALSO THE POSTER IS A RAINBOW-

[bwabys-scenarios]

Fixer Upper

!!REBLOGS APPRECIATED!!

Perv!Kurapika x Fem!Reader

Part 25

part 24

part 26

warning: smutty, handjob, Kurapika plays with Readers pussy, Reader gets injured by Kurapika, coma, SH(Kurapika doesn’t let himself eat or sleep after you get hurt), violence, reader kills someone and gets traumatized, vomiting

A/N: EVERYONE SAY THANK YOU TO BUG FOR HELPING SO MUCH WITH THIS CHAPTER!! A lot of the part where Killua tries to comfort reader was written by Bug!!

taglist: @fabitheraven @tsukilover11 @ashdownunderscorebeloved @lemonslut @homeinmydreams @superweeniehutjrsblog @bugmomwrites @heartsforseo @lixiawinter @altaircc @itszenava @fiightforlovee @mimi-sanisanidiot @monainanuttshell @wow-im-gay @whorermoviestar @lightshowerrr @mama-m1na @nenggie @wicked-binch @jamayah @themanicwriter01

If you’d like to be ADDED to the tawglist, please comment a red heart ❤️, make sure you’re able to be tagged/mentioned, and have your age in your bio(IF YOU ARE ALREADY ON THE TAGLIST, YOU DON’T NEED TO ASK TO BE ADDED AGAIN!!)

(Name) woke up to the sound of her phone buzzing on her nightstand. She tried to move, but noticed Kurapika sleeping next to her, his arms wrapped around her and face buried in her chest.

The sight made her heart race and she would prefer to stay like this forever… but she couldn’t. “Pika, wake up. I’ve gotta answer my phone.”

He groaned a little, only nuzzling into her chest harder like a needy child, his arms tightening around her waist. “Five more minutes…”

She sighed, glancing at her phone before laying back down and planting a kiss on the top of his head. Sleep took her again, the world around her fading away, the only thing keeping her grounded was the feeling of Kurapika’s touch and warm breath against her cleavage.

An entire hour passed before she felt Kurapika stir next to her, his blonde hair tickling her chin. “Mmph…”

His leg rubbed against hers as he sat up, a soft pink on his cheeks from the warmth of being nestled between her breasts. Kurapika’s morning wood was evident in his pants, and he hadn’t even realized yet. “Good morning…”

As he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, (Name) scooted closer, wrapping her arms around him. “Thanks for getting me to bed last night, my back would be killing me if you left me on the couch.”

Kurapika nodded, leaning into her touch. He was still sleepy, taking in her gentle affection happily. “No problem, angel…”

His eyes shot open when he felt her hand on his chest, her lips against his cheek. “Pika, look down.”

He did as told, his face flushing red when he noticed the tent in his pajama pants. Kurapika pulled the blanket up to his torso, embarrassment clear on his face. “I-I’m so sorry, it happens when I wake up sometimes-“

“Shh, it’s okay. It’s natural, I understand.”

He blushed when she began to tug the blanket back down, her eyes on the bulge in his pants. “Kurapika?”

His breath hitched in his throat, his voice coming out husky. “Y-yes?”

She placed her hand over his tummy, slowly trailing down. “Can I… touch you?”

He felt like he was going to explode, his cock leaking precum all over his boxers with just the thought of her touching him. “You… touch me?”

“Mhm.”

She rested her hand on his thigh, leaning against him. Fuck, he could cum from her being so close and just insinuating that. “Lemme help you feel good, Pika.”

He could only nod, kicking the blanket off of him so she could have better access to him. (Name) smiled, placing her hand over his bulge. Kurapika let out a gasp, already panting.

“Oh? Does that feel good?”

She played with the waistband of his pajama pants, leaving kisses on his neck. “Tell me what you want, Pika.”

He whined a little, his head feeling fuzzy. (Name) wanted to touch him, and god he was still processing that. “Please… please touch me…”

(Name) cooed softly, slipping her hand down his pants and into his boxers. When her fingers grazed his length, he let out a sharp gasp, bucking his hips in her hand. “Mmph, (Name)!”

She kissed his neck as her fingers wrapped around his length, gently stroking him. “Pika, you’re so hard… my poor baby~”

Kurapika bucked his hips into her hand, his face a deep red, his eyes scarlet. “(N-Name), fuck…”

He felt like his could cum already, but didn’t want to cum all over her hand within a minute of her jerking him off. Kurapika didn’t want her to think he was a pathetic mess!

He tried his best to hold back, gently fucking into her hand as she left love bites on his neck. Kurapika whimpered, moving closer to her, his eyes begging for some comfort and reassurance. She obliged him, using her free hand to grab his chin and kiss him.

He whined into her mouth, his tongue dancing with hers desperately. “Please… please!”

She cooed, moving her hand faster and brushing her thumb against his tip. “Shh, shh, you don’t want anyone to hear you begging like that, do you? Guess I’ll have to keep you quiet.”

She tapped her finger against his lip, and he opened his mouth immediately, sucking on her fingers to keep quiet. “That’s my good boy, you’re doing amazing, Kurapika.”

Her gentle praise was making his cock twitch in her hand. He was so close, and with some gentle sucking on his neck he was cumming. It was the most intense orgasm he’d ever had, his hips bucking out of control and soft moans leaving his lips. (Name) had to cover his mouth, continuing to stroke his cock to let him ride out his orgasm.

(Name) pulled her hand from his pants, looking at him as she began to lick his cum up. “Mm… you taste nice, Pika.”

He took a moment to recover, his head thrown back as he panted, his hips lightly bucking on their own. Whne he looked back at (Name) finally, his eyes were different, they were hungry.

“Pika, would you like a snack or a bath-“

Her attempts to offer aftercare were cut off by him pinning her to the bed, his lips crashing into hers. Kurapika used one hand to keep her wrists pinned above her head, and the other to tug her pants down, leaving them hanging around her thighs. “Fuck…”

She was wearing a pair of white cotton panties, a little wet patch growing in center. He nudged the patch with his finger, causing her to mewl. “Pikaa! P-please!”

He hummed, dipping back down to kiss her again, his tongue prodding against her lip. She opened her mouth, letting his tongue explore her mouth again as his fingers slipped into her panties. (Name) gasped into his mouth when his finger found her clit.

Kurapika had completely turned the tables on her, and she was at his mercy. He cooed down at her, moving to her neck to give her love bites of his own. “So pretty, angel…”

He could tell she was we getting close by the way she was lifting her hips into his hand, letting go of her wrists to grope her breasts through her shirt. “G-gonna cum, ahh!”

Fuck, his cock was growing hard again. He was making her feel good, he had her underneath him, squirming and moaning. This was everything he had imagined and more.

She came, holding onto his arm as she stared into his eyes, moaning out his name. “K-Kurapika! Pika! Pika!!”

He captured her lips again, slotting himself between her legs and grabbing the waistband of her panties. He didn’t care if being with her was bad, if he might leave one day, all he could think about right now was how much he loved her. Kurapika wanted to make love to her, bring her to the brink of pleasure and fill her up with his cum. He wanted to get her pregnant, wanted to hold her hand as he pounded into her dripping-

RING! RING!

Kurapika didn’t look up, continuing to kiss her and tug at her panties. (Name) opened her eyes, trying to turn her attention to her phone, but Kurapika turned her chin back towards him. “Ignore it, just focus on me.”

She whined into the kiss, gently pushing at his chest. “J-just a second, I need to check who’s calling.”

Kurapika scowled, but relented, letting her grab her phone. He sat back, trying to calm his racing heart as she glanced at the contact.

He noticed her face grow pale, and heard her curse under her breath. “Shit, sorry I have to take this.”

Kurapika’s frown only deepened, and he grabbed her wrist. “Is it really that important?”

She sighed, gently pulling away and walking out into the hallway as she tugged her pants back into place.

He watched, feeling his heart thump painfully against his chest, and his cock throb. Kurapika moved the hand he used to touch (Name) into his pants, using her juices to jerk off as she left to talk on the phone.

——————

“Chrollo, I told you not to call me when I’m home.”

She had walked outside, a cardigan hurriedly pulled on to keep her warm from the chilly morning air. The man on the other end laughed, and it only pissed her off.

“Oh, how unkind of you, (Name). And here I was, calling you to inform you that your target was in town.”

Her eyes widened, and she had to stop herself from yelling out. “H-he is?”

“Yeah, you can tell your little boyfriend now.”

(Name) looked down at the ground, remembering when Chrollo first told her the targets name.

FLASHBACK

(Name) placed the last bandage on Feitan, sighing softly. "Okay, you're good to go, Fei.

The dark haired man grunted in response, pushing himself off of the bed and walking out. ".. thanks."

She swiveled her head to see if he'd really thanked her, but he was gone. Instead of Feitan, Chrollo stood in the doorway, his usual suave smirk on his face. "I see you've finished up your duties, (Name)?

Chrollo leaned against the wall, watching her as she packed up. "Duties? What are you, a vampire from the Victorian era? I did my job, and now I'm leaving."

As she began to push past him, Chrollo spoke up.

"Leaving so soon? I thought you'd want to know where to find the next set of scarlet eyes."

She paused, glancing at him. "Just tell me, l'm not here to play games with you."

He laughed, handing her a slip of paper. "Here's the name of your next target."

Before (Name) could excitedly text Kurapika, Chrollo snatched her phone. "I wouldn't do that if I were you, (Name)."

"Hey, give me th-"

He handed her the phone back. "If you tell your little boyfriend the information now, he'll be on the next train to track this man down."

(Name) pouted, placing her phone in her back pocket. "No he wouldn't, we have plans for Halloween."

"Do you think he cares enough about your silly little plans to stick around when he could be completing his goals?"

She sighed. “I really regret venting to you."

Chrollo smiled. "Mhm, but am I wrong? What happened the last time he got a crumb of information?"

She looked away from him, clutching the fabric of her shirt. He took this as her acceptance of the situation and continued talking. "Besides, that man will be coming to your area in early November. It would be a shame for him to fly out to find the man, only to have to fly back to follow him."

Chrollo patted her shoulder. "You sure are patient, (Name). You're doing all of this for him. If you don't mind me asking, what exactly has he done to earn such loyalty from you?"

She didn't respond, walking past him and out of the room.

FLASHBACK END

“He’ll be in your town until this weekend. You should hurry and tell your little boyfriend.”

“He’s not-“

She was about to correct him, but then thought back to just a few minutes ago. Kurapika had been about to slip her panties off, getting ready to…

“Hmm? He’s not what?”

Chrollo seemed amused by your hesitance, but decided to cut you some slack. “Well, I assume you are busy, since it took me calling you several times for you to answer. Goodbye, (Name).”

He hung up without another word, leaving (Name) standing in her driveway, rethinking the events that led her to this.

‘What… what am I to Kurapika?’

———————

(Name) walked back into her room, shrugging off her cardigan and yelping when Kurapika grabbed her wrist and tugged her back into bed. He was on top of her within seconds, trying to pull off her shirt. “W-wait! We can’t, I have some news!”

“It can wait.”

He threw her shirt to the side, moving to unhook her bra next. “It’s about the scarlet eyes!”

Kurapika’s hands stopped, his fingers underneath the band of her bra. His eyes darted to hers, the scarlet slowly fading into the soft brown that she loved. “… you have new information on the eyes?”

She nodded, watching as he sat back up, moving off of her so she could pull her shirt back on. “Yeah, the person I just got off the phone with said a person with two pairs of the eyes is in town.”

The blonde sighed softly, the tent in his pajama pants still evident, but going down. “I see…”

He seemed a little shy now, glancing at her as he scooted to the edge of the bed. “We should… get ready then. Do you have their location?”

“Yes, they’re staying in a hotel uptown. We can sneak into their room and steal the eyes while they’re gone.”

Kurapika stood up, his cheeks a little pink. “Alright. I’ll meet you downstairs in 15 minutes.”

The two parted ways, (Name) going to take a shower, and Kurapika hiding away in his room to calm down his body and heart.

They met in the living room, both now dressed and calmed down. Things were a little awkward, but (Name) smiled and held onto his hand. “Okay, I told Leorio we’d be leaving. He’s a bit hungover but he’ll watch the kids.”

Kurapika squeezed her hand, his mind drifting back to their intimate moment earlier.

The drive uptown was mostly quiet, Kurapika keeping a possessive hand on her thigh. It was a subconscious act, something he wasn’t aware he was doing. “Kurapika…”

The blonde looked up, seeing (Name) glancing at him from the drivers seat. “I… Pika, what are we?”

Kurapika froze, his grip on her thigh tightening slightly. He didn’t answer, his head turning to stare at the window before he retracted his hand. “I don’t know what you mean.”

That was a lie, he knew exactly what she meant by that, but he didn’t have an answer.

She frowned. “I mean what is our relationship. Obviously we’re more than friends, for gods sake Kurapika, your hand was in my panties! I jerked you off!”

His face turned impossibly red. “I… I don’t want to talk about this.”

(Name) blinked in surprise. “Huh? Do you mean at all, or just not right now?”

“I don’t know!”

She flinched when he yelled, the blonde immediately regretting it. “(Name), I…”

“No, it’s alright. I… I understand.”

Kurapika looked back, his eyes widening when he saw the look of defeat on her face. She was gripping the steering will tight, as if trying to keep her tears from falling by sheer force alone. “It’s a okay, we… don’t have to… be anything. I’ll still…”

‘Does she… does she think that I’m trying to use her for sex?’

“(Name)… it’s not like that, I promi-“

“Please, stop. Don’t… let’s just focus on the mission.”

He stayed quiet, cursing himself for being so stupid. Kurapika promised himself that he’d try to clear things up later.

Unfortunately, the mission wouldn’t go smoothly enough for him to do such things.

——————

Kurapika and (Name) arrived at the hotel, posing as a couple renting a room. It was harder for her to play his partner this time, especially after their conversation on the way there.

The blonde seemed to notice this, trying his best to both give her space and play his part. Kurapika walked up to the counter to rent a room, letting (Name) wait in the lobby for him.

It was moments like these that made (Name) crave a relationship. She’d liked Kurapika since the Hunter Exam, and her fair share of fantasies about him. Some of them were sexual, but most were rooted in the desire to be with him.

She imagined holding his hand as they walked with their friends to look at Christmas lights, sharing kisses when no one was looking. She wanted him to hold her, to tell her he loved her too and would never leave her again.

God she didn’t want him to leave.

The thought of him only wanting her for sex made her feel awful, but if it meant he would never abandon her again, she would fulfill that role. These feelings, these thoughts weren’t healthy, but she didn’t know if she could take him leaving her. Not now, not after she’d fallen in love with him again.

‘I… I’m in love with him…’

Before, this thought would will her with butterflies and make her heart soar, but now it only filled her with dread. She cared about him, but Kurapika wasn’t someone that was easy to be in love with. He got himself into danger, he had severe anger issues and trauma that he held onto desperately. She didn’t even know if he wanted to heal, to settle down with her and find peace.

“(Name)? I got the room.”

He paused in front of her when he noticed tears falling down her face as she stared off into space. “Angel…”

He crouched down in front of her, cupping her cheeks and using his thumbs to brush her tears away. “What’s wrong, angel?”

(Name) blinked, seemingly snapping out her thoughts. “Huh? Kurapika?”

Kurapika stayed in front of her, his touch tender and gentle. “You… you were crying, (Name).”

“I was?”

She lifted her hand to touch her cheek, seeing that her finger was damp. “Oh… I guess I was.”

(Name) wiped her face and took a deep breath. “Never mind that, let’s get those eyes back.”

The two stepped into the elevator, (Name) glancing at her phone. “My informant said he’s on the 5th floor, room 301.”

Kurapika nodded and pressed the button for the 5th floor. The blonde attempted to start idle conversation a few times, but (Name) stayed quiet, her eyes focused on the ground.

“… it sure is cold outside, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

It was cold outside, but it was freezing in the elevator. (Name)’s warmth didn’t seem to reach him like it usually did.

The blonde cleared his throat, glancing at her. Even now, his mind was racing with the memories of their intimate moment earlier that day. They’d been so close to actually having sex, and now it seemed like the distance between them had grown so much that he wasn’t sure how to speak to her anymore.

‘I do want to be with her, but… I…’

Admitting that out loud was the hard part. Being with her, allowing himself to love her was an inherently selfish act. Just being in her life put her in danger, loving her, making her someone that was important to him could get her killed.

His thoughts were interrupted by the elevator doors opening, and before he had time to think (Name) was pulling him out by the hand. “Let’s get this over with.”

Kurapika followed her, and although he was still a little nervous, he couldn’t help but find comfort in the warmth of her hand.

——————

(Name) and Kurapika peeked around the corner, glancing at the room that held the scarlet eyes. “Okay, let’s think of a plan. I could sneak in through the-“

She turned to look at him, but he was already walking towards the room. “Kurapika!” she whisper yelled. (Name) was quick to follow after him, grabbing his sleeve when he stopped in front of the door.

He pulled his around away with a bit more force than necessary, breaking the handle off the door as he opened it. “We don’t have time for that, this is our only chance. The owner of the eyes could get back at any moment.”

She should have known he’d act like this, he always did when it came to the scarlet eyes. (Name) didn’t answer, only sighing. “I can’t see, where’s the light switch…”

She felt along the wall, finding the switch and flipping it. Light flooded the area, revealing a man sitting in the center of the room in a leather chair.

“Hello, ladies.”

(Name) screamed, jumping into Kurapika’s arms as the man calmly stood and stretched his leg. “… have you just been sitting here in the dark?”

“That doesn’t matter, why are you here?”

Kurapika held her close for a moment longer, almost as if he was trying to seek and give comfort before setting her on her feet. He kept a protective hold on her as he eyed the man, his gaze sharp and focused. “… we’re here for the scarlet eyes. Are you the owner of them?”

The man before him blinked, tilting his head towards the desk. On it set two pairs of the eyes on a stack of papers. “Oh, you talking about them paperweights? I thought you were here to take something important.”

Kurapika’s jaw clenched, (Name) having to grab his sleeve to prevent him from attacking.

“The boss bought those a while ago. Damn rich people, he thought it would show how well off he is to buy something so expensive just to use them as a paperweight.”

The man picked up a pair of the eyes, turning it around for a moment. “Tell you what, the boss barely even remembers he has these. I’ll give them to you, for a price.”

This is the outcome Kurapika had been hoping for. The blonde opened his satchel and showed the man it’s contents. It was stuffed full of money, enough to leave the man well off. “Is this enough?”

The man rubbed his hands together, laughing. “Oh yeah, that’s plenty. Come on, I’ll hand you the eyes, you hand me the money.”

Kurapika nodded, waiting for the man to pick up all of the eyes before he approached him.

The blonde paused for a second as he made eye contact with one of the pairs. (Name) could sense a shift in his mood, his heart thumping wildly, loud enough for her to hear. She caught him staring into the scarlet eyes. ‘Is that pair… special?’

It made her even more determined to help him tiger the pair, and she gently nudged Kurapika forward. He gave her an appreciative smile for her support before continuing on his way.

“Honestly, I’m glad to be rid of the nasty things. The boss brings them almost everywhere, they’re freaky looking. I bet whoever they belonged to were monsters.”

(Name) winced, knowing what was coming. It all happened so fast. First, Kurapika’s eyes turned a deep scarlet, but it seemed he was unaware of it. They hadn’t planned on seeing anyone, so he’d forgotten to put in his contacts.

The man’s face dropped, his eyes widening in fear as Kurapika moved to attack, the man doing the same. By doing this, he let the eyes fall from his grip.

(Name) rushed forward, barely making it in time to catch the eyes and roll out of the way as their battle began. The man attacked Kurapika with his nen, making the blonde jump back. Kurapika spared a glance in (Name)’s direction to make sure she and the eyes were okay before he summoned his chains.

She set the eyes in a safe position before readying herself to fight. Before she could move forward, Kurapika yelled out. “Don’t come closer, stay back!”

(Name) huffed, standing guard in front of the eyes as the two battled it out.

“How dare you call them monsters! They were murdered in cold blood blood, their eyes ripped from their skulls! They did this to everyone, to children!”

(Name)’s heart ached for him. His voice was cracking, his eyes filling with angry tears.

“Kurapika…”

She tried to move forward to comfort him, but he pushed her back. “I said STAY BACK!”

She went flying, her arm catching on the sharp end of a table. It ripped through her sleeve, leaving a gash on her upper arm. Blood dripped onto the floor, the smell causing Kurapika to freeze.

This small moment was enough for the man to get the upper hand, kicking Kurapika in the chest as the blonde dealt his own punch to the man’s face. They were both sent sprawling to the floor, (Name) rushing over to kneel at Kurapika’s side.

“F-fuck, I heard something crack.”

Kurapika’s breathing was uneven, his hand tenderly running across his chest. “Kurapika, shit, I think he broke a few ribs!”

She activated her nen, holding her hands over his chest to begin healing him. “This is going to take a lot of stamina to heal, we’ll have to get the eyes and-“

“No, no we have to take him down!”

(Name) stared down at the blonde, feeling him try to sit up. “Kurapika, what the hell are you thinking? Let’s just retreat while we still c-“

“HE CALLED MY PEOPLE MONSTERS, (NAME)!”

She flinched, recoiling slightly. Kurapika sat up, coughing up blood. “I’m activating emperors time. Just get the fuck out of my way!”

“No!”

Kurapika paused, whipping his head around to glare at her. “No? What else can we do? He needs to die, I can’t-“

She pushed him back into his back, continuing to heal him. “Just give me a damn second! There… there is one thing I can do, and… and I’ll do it if you stay still and let me heal you, but-“

“Then do it! Do it now!”

The man was approaching them, his cheek and eye swollen. As he reached out to try and attack (Name), she grabbed his wrist, concentrating her nen there.

Kurapika watched as the man writhed in agony, the flesh on his arm turning purple, then black as it rotted away before turning into dust. It spread up to his shoulder before stopping, the man screaming and falling to the floor, tears falling down his face as he writhed.

Kurapika sighed, leaning back to relax. The man wasn’t a threat like that. “Ah, nice job (Name). You really-“

He looked up to see her lip bleeding as she bit into it, her face scrunched up. Kurapika could still feel her nen coursing through his body to mend his broken ribs. As soon as he was healed, she let out a scream, falling to the ground and writhing in pain.

“(NAME)!?”

Her eyes were squeezed shut as she wailed, her back arching. (Name) began to tremble, her body twisting in agony.

“(Name)! Please, what’s wrong? I-“

The sound of multiple sets of footsteps running down the fall made him pause.

“Hey, I think someone broke into the boss’ room!”

“Call back up!”

Kurapika cursed under his breath. “(Name), we have to get out of here! I’ll grab the eyes, and…”

She wasn’t answering, still sobbing as she clawed at the ground, her fingernails breaking and bleeding. When she couldn’t do that, she grasped her arms, her nails puncturing her skin, her chest heaving. “No! No stop!”

He pinned her arms down, using his chains to restrain her. Kurapika felt his chest tighten, his eyes darting to the hallway. (Name) couldn’t move in this state, how would he be able to get her and the eyes?

‘I… I can only take one…’

He glanced between her and the eyes, cursing to himself. Kurapika knew what he would pick, his eyes filling with tears.

He exited through the window, leaving something precious behind.

——————

The underground room’s lighting was dim, the air smelling musty and damp. (Name) was wearing her work uniform, glancing to the doorway before turning her attention to the creature in front of her.

“You’re not getting past me. I have a baby to protect,” she said cooly, letting her nen surge around her. The creatures claws glinted into the low light, it’s form being revealed to her.

It was mantis like, but colorful and pink, almost like… a flower. As it crept closer, (Name) could hear it muttering something. She felt her eyes go wide, terror overtaking her heart.

“No… no it can’t be!”

Sun filtered in through the window, shining down on (Name)’s sleeping face. She grunted in discomfort, her eyes shooting open.

(Name) panted softly, the nightmare still fresh in her mind. Right after the Chimera Ant incident, she had frequent nightmares about what went down in that underground room. Although the nightmares became less with time, they came back when she experienced severe stress.

That’s when the memories of the event came back. She attempted to sit up, but couldn’t. (Name) glanced around the room, calming down slightly when she realized she was in a hospital room. To her left there was a bouquet of flowers on a table, along with a basket of her favorite snacks and toiletries.

She smiled, knowing that Leorio had to have been the one that got it for her. Who else knew that she had a love for (snack)?

When she looked to the right, her eyes widened slightly. Sitting in a chair next to her bed, leaning over to look at her was Kurapika. There were bags under his eyes, and his hair was an absolute mess.

When he saw she was awake, his breath hitched, eyes filling with tears. “Y-you’re awake!”

He squeezed her hand, lifting it to his cheek so he could fully feel her warmth. The past few days, she’d been cold, much too cold. Now, she was warm, her pretty (e/c) eyes looking at him in concern.

“K… Kura…”

Her throat was hoarse, and she was struggling to speak. Kurapika jumped in his seat, s quickly walking over to a small mini fridge and pulling out a bottle of water. “Here, you’ve been out for several… several days.”

He lifted her head, letting her sip slowly. The water helped to soothe her parched throat. Kurapika’s hand was a little shaky, so some water dribbled down her chin, making her shiver as it slipped under her shirt.

He pulled the bottle back, capping it before setting her head back onto the pillow. She blinked slowly, still adjusting to the bright light of the room.

“The… the eyes… did…”

Kurapika was silent, his foot tapping against the floor as she spoke. “… you passed out, and I had to carry you so no, I couldn’t get the scarlet eyes.”

There was a hint of resentment lacing his words, and she couldn’t help but feel bad. Although she’d been trying to help him, she still ended up being the reason he couldn’t recover the eyes.

“I left the eyes behind because… of you.”

‘It’s your fault.’

The words went unspoken, but (Name) knew what he meant. Kurapika’s face was pained, and she could remember the look of agony in his eyes when they met with one of the pairs of scarlet eyes. There had been something special about that pair, and she could tell he was upset.

“Now… now we won’t be able to get the eyes. They’ll be on high alert, making infiltration next to impossible.”

Kurapika put his head in his hands, letting out a sigh of frustration. (Name) looked away, gripping the hospital blanket keeping her warm.

“Why… why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you tell me about the condition you placed on your nen?!”

She flinched when he yelled at her, her lip quivering. “I-I tried to tell you when-“

“(Name), you should have told me way before we were in a life threatening mission! Jesus Christ, you could have died!”

(Name) stared at her blanket, sighing. “… and?”

Kurapika blinked, absolutely flabbergasted at her nonchalant attitude. “And..? (Name), you-“

“Why are you mad at me? Why didn’t you get the eyes?”

“Because I would have had to leave you!”

“See, that’s the part I’m not getting. Didn’t you say that if my death benefited your mission, you would let me die? You should have just left me behind…”

Kurapika stared at her, as if thinking her words over. ‘She’s not wrong, I did say that. And… and I meant it… didn’t I?’

When he was choosing between her and the eyes, the thought of leaving her alone to be captured or killed made his heart ache and his body tremble. It only took him a split second to decide. He couldn’t live without her.

And that was bad.

Part of him wanted so badly to console her, to let her now exactly how much she meant to him. But another part told him that letting himself love her, allowing her to help him and be close to him was only hurting her. So instead of giving sweet words and reassuring touches, Kurapika stood up and brushed off his pants.

“… I’m going back to the house. You’re awake now, I’ll alert a nurse on my way out. I’ll be back to pick you up in a few days.”

She watched him walk towards the door, sitting up slightly. “You’re leaving..?”

He paused in the doorway, not looking back. “… yes. Just lie back down and sleep.”

(Name)’s lip trembled and her eyes watered up as the door closed behind Kurapika. She was all alone in a hospital room, her only company the bouquet of flowers someone had left her.

———————

(Name) sat in her hospital room, munching on sugar free pudding. It tasted meh, but she was hungry.

It had been nearly two days since Kurapika left, and besides a few phone calls with Killua, she hadn’t had any company.

“I’m sorry I can’t come to see you, mom.” Killua said into the phone, his voice soft. (Name) laughed, trying to sound unbothered.

“It’s okay baby, I know going into hospitals is hard for you. Especially after…”

They both went silent, (Name) fiddling with the blanket. “… anyways, I’ll talk to you later. I’m going to take a nap before my X-ray.”

“Okay mom, I love you!”

“I love you too, baby.”

She sighed, placing her phone back on the charger. (Name) wondered who brought her charger there for her. Maybe Leorio?

A nurse knocked on the door, opening it shortly after. “Miss (Last Name)?”

(Name) looked up. “Yes?”

“You have a visitor!”

She felt her eyes widen, her heart fill with hope. She’d been so alone for the past two days, maybe Leorio or Kurapika had come to keep her company!

“Hello, (Name).”

Her face fell, a sigh escaping her lips. “… hello, Pariston.”

The man smiled, slipping into the room. He held a small planter filled with poppies, setting it next to the bouquet. (Name) found out that boquet was from Alluka earlier that day during her call with Killua, and she felt a little strange seeing a “gift” from Pariston next to it.

“What do you want?”

Pariston gave a fake pout, sitting in the chair next to her bed. “What do I want? How rude, I came here to make sure you were alright! I even brought your favorite flowers!”

(Name) huffed, bringing her cover up to her chest. “You never come to see me without a reason, and you don’t give people gifts. There’s always a catch.”

Pariston grinned that creepy grin of his, leaning his face against his hand. “Ahh, you’re not easy to fool, are you (Name)? I think you know why I’m here.”

She nodded, glancing down at her arm. It was bandaged, but her wounds were almost completely healed. “Were you the person that sent the Enhancer to speed up my healing? I thought I told you not to tell anyone I can’t heal myself anymore!”

Pariston paused, his smile fading. “Enhancer? No, I didn’t send anyone. That’s…” he thought for a moment, then laughed. “I think I know who did it though.”

“Tell me!”

“Nope~ if they didn’t tell you already, they don’t want you to know.”

The man smiled, his expression becoming more neutral. “Back on topic, you know why I’m here. You used your ability again.”

Her grip tightened on her blanket. “I did, and as you can see, the condition still works. If I use my ability against someone and it causes them pain, I experience that pain tenfold.”

Pariston nodded. “Yeah, I see that it works. You still used your ability though, and as you know, that goes against your orders.”

She huffed, crossing her arms. “You aren’t the Chairman anymore, so that order is null and void.”

“It is, but Chairwoman Cheadle is going to be contacting you within an hour to reinstate that order.”

“And if I don’t agree to it?”

They stared at each other for a moment, before Pariston glanced at the poppies he brought. “You would do best to follow orders, if you value the friends you have left.”

(Name)’s eyes widened, the area around her buzzing with her nen. “… are you threatening me?”

Pariston, who had stepped out of her range smiled, heading towards the door. “You know I’m not above using threats to get what I want. Just agree to Chairwoman Cheadle’s proposal, and everything will be okay.”

And with that, he was gone. (Name) was left trembling and struggling to control her nen. As he said, Cheadle called her within an hour to make the new order.

And with her friends’ lives on the line, how could she refuse?

——————

On her third day awake at the hospital, (Name) got a phone call from Leorio. “Hey sunshine, make sure you get packed up because Kurapika and Killua will be coming tonight to pick you up.”

She sighed in relief. (Name) was on her last pair of clean panties, and was glad she’d get to go home and see her friends again.

And so she could enact her plan. “Okay, thanks for the heads up Leorio! I’ll make sure I’m all packed up!”

(Name) sighed, hanging up after a short goodbye and glancing at her phone.

‘It’s moving again…’

She sighed softly, thinking back to their failed mission. While Kurapika and the man had been busy fighting, she put a tracker on one set of the eyes, knowing that something could go awry when Kurapika’s anger entered to picture.

(Name) moved about her room, packing up her clothes and carrying her flowers and basket downstairs when she got a text from Killua saying they were on their way.

It was nearly dark as (Name) stepped out into the cold autumn evening. She watched the sunset as she waited, shivering. She wasn’t sure who packed her overnight bag, but not a single thing besides her zip up hoodie was appropriate for the weather.

She sighed in relief when the mom van pulled up to the hospital, but raised her eyebrow when it nearly crashed into a column then parked crookedly. ‘Is Kurapika drunk?’

She carried her things to the van, stopping when the drivers door opened. (Name) nearly dropped her things when Killua stepped out of the drivers side. “K-Killua? Why are you driving the van? Did Kurapika leave?”

“No, he’s at home. He didn’t leave, I left him.”

(Name) blinked, feeling her phone buzz in her pocket. It was Kurapika.

She answered her phone. “Hello!”

“Killua isn’t answering his phone, he took off in the van!”

“I’m well aware. Don’t worry, I’ll handle it.”

She hung up before he could continue. Killua was about to laugh, but she gave him a look that shut him up. “Killua, you shouldn’t worry Kurapika like that. It’s not nice.”

The white haired boy shrunk under her gaze, his shoe kicking at a rock. “Sorry, mom… I just… I just didn’t like that… you were here all alone, and wanted to come get you so we could… spend some time together….”

Her expression softened as she reaches out to gently cup his cheeks. His eyes widened, his cheeks turning pink as she leaned forward to kiss his forehead. “Thank you, that’s very sweet of you. I… I have something I have to do before we can spend time together though.”

Killua tilted his head, watching her pull out her phone and turn it towards him. “I placed a tracker on one of the pairs of the scarlet eyes.”

Killua laughed, grinning. “Mom, you’re badass!”

She smiled back, grabbing the keys from him. “Let’s get going, Killua. I’ve got some eyes to steal.”

——————

Kurapika cursed, dropping his phone onto his bed. His foot tapped at the floor in agitation as he thought back over his last interaction with (Name). He’d left her all alone at the hospital, and just the thought of it made his chest ache.

He rubbed at his eyes, a soft sigh leaving his lips. ‘I had to leave, I… I was so tired and angry, I… I didn’t want to snap… at her…’

Unbeknownst to (Name), the blonde had stayed awake for nearly four days watching over her. He was filled with anxiety and dread, guilt eating him alive. Kurapika wouldn’t eat, wouldn’t sleep until he knew she was okay. It was his fault this ever happened to her after all, and if he’d just listened to her explanation maybe this wouldn’t have happened.

It was almost a form of self harm, restricting his food and sleep to make up for hurting her. The gash on her arm made him want to vomit, he promised himself he’d never hurt her again, and here she was. In a hospital bed, all because of him.

But by the time she woke up, he’d overthought the situation into the dirt, his mind exhausted. He wanted to blame her, the mean and nasty side of his coming out. Before he could take out his anger and pain on her, he left. It broke his heart when she asked if he was leaving.

‘Why… why am I so agitated about not getting that specific set of scarlet eyes?’

It’s not like he hadn’t failed missions before. He lost several pairs over the two years they’d been apart, but he would usually be able to recover them. This time he didn’t know if it was possible, so it pissed him off even further.

In his heart he knew she wasn’t at fault, after all without her he wouldn’t have even been able to TRY to get the pair in the first place. He couldn’t help but almost resent her though, for being so important to him. The thought of leaving her behind made him heave, his heart ache and his body freeze.

This was what he feared, falling in love with her and being unable to live without her. That attachment was a hindrance to his mission, and he wanted to hate her for it.

But he just couldn’t.

Thinking of her, her pretty face when she slept so soundly those four days made his heart race. He could go without food, without sleep if it meant he could look at her for forever. Leorio begged him to take a break, to come home so he could rest. Kurapika said no every time, clinging to her hand.

“No, no I’m not leaving her. She’s mine, back off.”

If only he could say those kinds of things here (Name) was awake.

He cursed himself for being a coward, laying back into his bed and looking up at the ceiling. There were little glowing stars stuck up there. He could faintly remember mentioning to (Name) that staring at the stars helped him sleep when he missed home. He had fallen asleep under the starry night sky with Pairo next to him more times than he could count.

It was comforting, really. Not the stars, no, it was the fact that name hung them up there to make him feel more at home that made his heart melt in his chest. She truly was the epitome of kindness and love.

Kurapika knew he didn’t deserve her, she’d probably live a much better life with someone like Leorio or hell, even some of the other hunters like Kite or Knuckle.

But he was selfish. The thought of another man touching her, loving her made his eyes flare with a bright scarlet. He hated this possessive part of himself. In his mind, he knew it was better to let her go and distance himself as much as possible for her safety and happiness.

However, his heart was sitting in the palm of her hand. He wouldn’t be going anywhere any time soon. Not voluntarily.

———————

(Name) drove around town, following the tracker as Killua yelled out directions. “Turn left!”

Eventually, the tracker was blinking in the same spot, and had been for the past five minutes. (Name) parked the mom van at a random gas station a short distance away before getting out.

When Killua began to follow her, she turned quickly. “Baby, no. I’m going in alone, you can’t come with me.”

Killua frowned, crossing his arms. “Why? Are you babying me, mom? I’m an assassin, I have much more experience in this type of thing than-“

“But you shouldn’t!”

Killua paused, his eyes widening slightly. “Mom…”

Her eyes were a little teary, her lip quivering. “You shouldn’t be used to killing, Killua, and when you’re with me, that will never be your burden to bear.”

She hugged him tight, kissing the top of his head. “I’ll be back within an hour, then we’ll go get burgers. That sound good, bud?”

He nodded slowly, burying his face into her shoulder. “Yeah…”

After giving him another tight squeeze, she left, the smile on her face dropping as soon as she turned around.

(Name) shivered from the cold, glancing down at her phone to follow the tracker. It seemed it was stopped at a restaurant, a Waffle House to be specific. Was the owner of the eyes… eating at Waffle House? Why would be bring the eyes with him?

‘He’s probably all packed up to go home.’

That explanation made sense, and (Name) picked up the pace. When she got there, she followed the tracker to a black Mercedes parked in the back. She could have just used her nen to disintegrate the back of the car and take the eyes, but (Name) wanted to confront the man.

People that contributed to Kurapika’s agony needed to be dealt with. His trauma was so intense he couldn’t trust people, he couldn’t even trust her. If she was being honest, this was a good opportunity to let out all of the frustration and anger she’d been keeping inside of her.

The man walked out of the back door. He was short and stout, carrying a takeout back and talking with someone over the phone. (Name) stood by his car, silent.

The man noticed her, but seemed to not acknowledge her as a threat. He pocketed his phone, setting his takeout bag on the sidewalk. “You homeless? I ain’t got nothing for you, be on your way.”

He shooed at her, but (Name) didn’t budge. She looked up, the good of her jacket covering everything but the bottom half of her face. “You have a pair of the scarlet eyes, yes?”

The man suddenly seemed a lot less smug, reaching for his phone. (Name) rushed forward, covering his mouth and taking his phone. “Don’t. Scream, and I’ll kill you.”

She waited for him to stop struggling before she pulled her hand from his mouth. “Answer.”

“I-I do, but you can have them! Just don’t hurt me!”

(Name) stayed quiet, as the man unlocked his car and offered the eyes to her. She nearly threw up at the state of Kurapika’s family.

The containers were tipped over, the glass covered in filth. She look them into her arms, holding them tight as she gave the man a disgusted look. “You know these are the body parts of people that were once alive, right? How dare you treat them with such disregard!”

Her eyes widened at the sight of a gun in the man’s hand. She had felt it on him when she searched him a minute before, so he must of had it hidden in his car. She was too busy being disgusted over the state he kept Kurapika’s family in to keep track of him.

“Who cares, they’re dead and gone. I heard those filthy Kurtas were involved in witchcraft, that’s how they got those demonic red eyes.”

The man grinned down at her, pressing the gun into the back of her head. “That doesn’t matter, though. You’ll be joining them soon. Hell, I’ll take your eyes too. They’re a nice (e/c) color.”

As he clicked the safety off, (Name) looked into the scarlet eyes. False rumors and discrimination against anything that was different from the norm was the reason Kurapika’s family was dead, that and the human nature to take what they wanted no matter the consequences.

Before she met Kurapika, (Name) had heard the rumors of the Kurta Clan being demonic and evil, getting their red eyes from eating human flesh or killing innocents. The story was different every time she heard it, so she stopped believing in it. She remembered how people treated her differently because of how she looked and parts of her body and identity she couldn’t change. It was the reason she felt no fear when Kurapika’s eyes first turned scarlet.

She knew how kind Kurapika was, and heard the stories of his people and family. They were good, kind people, and they didn’t bother anyone. Despite hiding away from the outside world, they were still targeted and massacred. They couldn’t even live freely alone, they had to be taken out. She wasn’t sure if it was because of greed or if people were scared of them. Both reasons were stupid to (Name).

Within a flash, the gun was knocked out of the man’s hand and (Name) was on top of him, slamming her fists into his face. “YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT!”

Tears fell down her face, not of sadness, but of absolute anger. “You didn’t know them, they were people, people who loved their families and wanted to be safe and happy, just like everyone else!”

She wasn’t going to use her nen. It wasn’t even because of the order given to her by Cheadle and Pariston. No, she wanted to draw this out. This man was one of the reasons for Kurapika’s pain, he treated the bodies of the dead as if they were items to collect, items to show off to other people as if they were a prize.

Whenever Kurapika showed up at her apartment in York New, it’s when she became determined to gather the scarlet eyes to help him find peace. The way he cried and sobbed into her shirt like a child until he passed out from exhaustion chilled her to the bone.

She had seen the result of Kurapika’s nightmares, heard the gut wrenching screams of despair. She couldn’t let a person who disregarded that pain live.

She stood up, bringing her foot down onto his crotch. “You don’t deserve to live, you use your money to get what you want, you kill and order others to kill for you without any guilt!”

The man screamed in agony, but he was soon silenced when her sneaker came down on his face. Something came over her, she stomped on his face over and over, blood spraying on the sidewalk and splashing onto her face and clothes.

She kept going, even after there was nothing left of his head but mush. (Name) probably would have never stopped, but someone gently pulled her back, far enough away so that she couldn’t continue her actions.

“Mom… he’s dead.”

Killua had his arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her back more. She didn’t answer Killua, didn’t say a single word.

Many didn’t know this, but when he was nervous, Killua would prattle on and on. “Hey, that guy sucked. It’s good your first kill was someone that deserved ut, I wasn’t as lucky!”

He doesn’t seem to notice the way she stared at the corpse, eyes blank. “You know, for an amateur, that wasn’t half bad. You got a little sloppy at the end though. If you want it end then fast, there’s a soft spot on the skull. Going for the neck just paralyzes them. Unless you wanted to drag it out in which case, not bad.”

Once he noticed she was speaking, just staring blankly at the man she just killed, Killua went quiet for a moment. He grabbed her sleeve, pulling her away. “It’s… it’s not good to think too much about it.”

She finally looks up when crouches next to the body, using two fingers to lift the man’s sleeve. “What should we do with the body? Want me to toss his body in the lake so we can be accountable together?”

It was his attempt at a joke, trying to get his mom to laugh instead of stare blankly at the corpse below her.

“Don’t bother. Scum like him deserves to rot out in the open. Let the birds pick him clean.”

With that, he realized that killing that man has actually fucked her up. Something that completely altered her brain chemistry is just a normal Tuesday night for him.

It made his chest ache a little, but he sighed before looking down at the body, shrugging and standing up. “Alright, it’s your kill. Your rules.”

The two walked towards the van, each carrying a set of the eyes. “They’re… heavier than you’d think.” Killua said, trying to lighten the mood again.

Maybe it was the actual weight of them, or the knowledge that these eyes belonged to someone Kurapika knew and loved. Even Killua could understand the importance of these eyes, he had seen the exact same shade in Kurapika’s eyes.

After finally reaching the van, (Name) spoke for the first time since taking the man’s life.

“Sorry you had to witness that…”

Killua perked up immediately, feeling a strange since of relief that she was finally speaking.

“You got a little messy at the end if I’m being honest. But that first move was pretty smooth, and I’ve seen more red splatters in my Uber Eats bag after ordering tomato soup. If that was you, I’d give you at least 4 stars and a 20% tip.”

She froze, setting the pair of eyes in the van before throwing up onto the pavement. Killua jumped, setting eyes in the car before rushing over to hold her hair back. “Shit!”

He had been trying to help, but Killua feared he may have just ruined tomato soup for her for the foreseeable future. After she finally stopped, she coughed, shivering in the cold and looking up at him weakly.

“I’m sorry hun, I-“

“Stop apologizing already. You’ve looked after me for years, let me look after you for once. You said yourself it’s okay to need help sometimes.”

Killua left for a second, returning with some crumpled napkins she kept in the car. He wiped her mouth, then tossed the dirty napkin onto the ground. (Name) was too exhausted to scold him for littering, allowing him to help her to her feet.

She stumbled her way to the backseat, shrugging off her jacket and using it to gently wipe away any blood or filth from the cases holding the scarlet eyes.

She sighed softly. “Killua… baby…”

He looks up, seeing her taking the keys from her pocket. “Do you know the way home?”

He’s allowed to drive? Sure, he practiced before without her knowledge (or at least he thought- plus there was that time Leorio let him do donuts in the mall parking lot at night last month) but she was allowing him to drive the mom van? Even if he was going to be legally old enough for a drivers license next year anyway, it still didn’t feel real.

He just wished it was under better circumstances. Killua took the keys, nodding slowly. “Yeah, yeah I know the way.”

Killua couldn’t even be excited about getting to drive the car, because (Name)’s hand were trembling and she looked like she was going to throw up again. “I’m trusting you, Killua…”

Her trust was supposed to feel good, but right now it almost felt like a burden. Heavy. Killua took a deep breath, deciding to think of something else. He had a job to do, he needed to get his mom home. (Name) trusted him to do it.

He glanced at her, his eyebrow raising slightly at the sight of her using her jacket to cover the eyes.

“You aren’t gonna keep your jacket on? It’s 40°.”

He heard her mutter something something respect for the dead before wrapping the eyes in her blood stained jacket and holding them close to her. Once upon a time, these eyes were alive. It wouldn’t feel right to treat them as anything less than human.

(Name) curled up in the passenger seat, holding the eyes in a protective grip as her eyes stared out the window. It had began to rain, and Killua’s hand was shaking as he started the engine.

“You’re going to be freezing.”

“Turn the heat on.”

“But-“

“Killua, dead or alive this was still a person. They deserve to be able to rest comfortably.” This was the most she had spoken the whole ride home. Killua sighs.

“…okay. I’ll have to wait until a red light though, I don’t feel comfortable searching the dashboard while I’m in motion,” she hummed in acknowledgment, shivering as she held the eyes closer to her.

“We should get you a cupcake to celebrate your first kill, it was gnarly! His whole head was like a watermelon and you were all bam! POW! POP! you know?”

“…”

“Oh shit, I mean, wanna get burgers? It’s two dollar Tuesday.”

After a few minutes of silence, Killua spoke up again.

“… want me to kill the next one so we can be even?”

“No, no that’s okay. Let’s go get burgers now.”

———————

When he pulled in for burgers, it was like trying to re-establish some sense of normalcy. Like gathering the energy to brush your teeth when your best friend just died. Trying to find comfort in the mundane.

He ordered them food, even something for Kurapika, and a hint of a smile appeared on her face. “You remembered my order…”

“Of course I did, you always get the same thing! A little boring but oh well.”

Killua tapped away at the steering wheel nervously. He kept saying things randomly, blurting out things that made her nauseous or upset. He hated that he felt the need to fill the silence left between the two. It was instinctual, because when he was a child, silence either meant you were in trouble or you were about to be scolded.

And his family’s version of scolding was violent.

He knew she wasn’t in any state to cook, so grabbing burgers was their best bet. Though, Killua wasn’t sure she’d even be able to eat.

Killua sighed, and hopped out of the van. He came back a few minutes later with Kurapika running at his heels, scrambling to open the door. (Name) almost fell forward from the sheer velocity he tore it open, holding onto the eyes for dear life in case she she tumbling out. Thankfully, Killua had enough sense to push her back a little, noticing how cold she was to the touch.

Kurapika noticed her hands were covered in blood. She didn’t want to get blood on his clan’s eyes, and he knew despite never having met you, if his relatives were still around to see the gesture today, they’d be touched. Always putting everyone else’s comfort ahead of her own.

“These… they’re the… they’re the eyes I left behind.”

He pushed the hood out of the to the side just bough to read the inscription on the top for a confirmation. It’s the same number as the one the two missed last week. As sickening as it was that they numbered each of them like a rare commodity, it soothed him a little knowing he wouldn’t be stuck wondering what happened to that specific pair, especially considering how connected he felt to the pair on the left.

Without another word, he took the eyes and walked inside. Killua watched, figuring he would thank her once he put the eyes somewhere safe.

The white haired boy helped (Name) inside, sitting her on the couch. She stared at the floor, still shivering from the cold. At least, Killua hoped it was from the cold.

He waited 10 minutes for Kurapika to come out and say something, anything to (Name). She just killed someone, put herself through trauma for him.

Eventually, Killua stormed towards Kurapika’s room, throwing the door open to see the blonde sitting on the bed and staring at one of the pairs, tears streaming down his cheeks.

Killua couldn’t care less about Kurapika right now, his mother, the woman that took him in and kept him safe when no one else would was in a state of agony, trying to process the knowledge that she just ended a human’s life.

“What the fuck are you doing? Do you realize what (Name) just did to get those eyes for you?”

Kurapika looked up, wiping at his face. “She… what did she do? She’s not hurt, is she?”

Killua scoffed. “You didn’t even bother to check if she was hurt? Jesus Christ Kurapika get your priorities straight! Those eyes aren’t alive anymore, they can wait 5 god damn minutes so you can make sure the woman you supposedly “love” is okay!”

Kurapika’s eyes flashed red, his fist clenching. “Don’t act like you understand me, Killua. These eyes-“

“Shut up! Shut up and go do something to comfort her! Can’t you understand she did this all for you, that she killed for you!?”

Kurapika’s heart nearly stopped, his eyes going wide as they faded back to their soft brown color. “… kill?”

Killua nodded, his hands clenched into fists. “Yeah, and it really fucked her up! She… she stared at the corpse, and threw up on the way home…”

Kurapika moved past Killua, running down the stairs. The throw blanket that Killua had covered (Name) with lied in the middle of the floor, and he could hear the sink running.

“(Name)..?”

She was in the kitchen, bent over the sink washing a glass cup and staring into it listlessly. It was clean, and he watched her for a moment before walking closer.

He took the cup from her gently, his eyes widening when he saw the state of her hands.

Her knuckles were split and bruised and her hands were trembling. She was in pain, but it didn’t show on her face.

Kurapika almost wanted her to be angry that he didn’t immediately check on her. Anything was better than seeing the vibrant woman he fell in love with look so… empty.

He watched as she continued the washing motions, even though the cup was gone.

“(Name)…”

Tears fell down his cheeks as he gently held her hands in his, pulling him to her chest as he held her close to him. “Please… you… you didn’t have to do that for me. Why… why do you keep putting yourself in danger to help me when you get nothing in return? I… I don’t understand…”

(Name) was quiet for a moment, her eyes still fixated on the same spot in the sink. “… I love you, Kurapika. That’s… why…”

(Name) had told Kurapika she loved him several times, but this time it felt different. Her love weighed heavy on his chest, a testament of how far she would go to try and lift his burdens off his shoulders.

Leorio had been right, she was in love with him.

“No… no! No don’t love me! You… you can’t love me!”

He shook her, full on sobbing now. “Please… can’t you see loving me is only hurting you? I’m on a path that no one should follow me on, especially you! You’re…”

‘You’re too important.’

She finally looked up to meet his eyes. “I know. I’m useless, I’m too weak and I’ll never be enough for you… that’s what you wanted to say in the car on our way to get the eyes last week, isn’t it? You wanted to say you didn’t… feel the same way I did…”

He wanted to deny what she was saying, to ease the absolute agony in her eyes, but he couldn’t speak. Kurapika was choking up, his hands gripping her shoulders so tightly he knew that there would be bruises there later. Neither seemed to care.

“Kurapika…”

She pushed his hands away, walking towards the stairs. “My… my heart… this entire weak, it felt like it was breaking. I love you so much, I really… I really thought there might be a day where we could be together…”

(Name) thought about every instance where he abandoned her, berated her, left her to chase after the Phantom Troupe or scarlet eyes. Him not even checking up on her after she walked in, covered in blood and barely hanging on had been the breaking point.

“I’ve always known I could never be the most important thing in your life…”

She looked back at him, tears finally falling from her blank eyes. “But I at least thought that I was something to you. Guess not.”

Kurapika watched as she walked upstairs, his eyes wide with terror. Before he could chase after her, Killua grabbed his arm, shaking his head. “No, leave her be. She needs some time to be alone.”

The blonde’s face was still a mess, tears rolling down his cheeks. Killua wasn’t the best at comforting others, especially when he didn’t like them all that much.

But (Name) loved Kurapika, so Killua walked over to the takeout bag and handed the blonde a burger. “Here, we picked up dinner on the way home,” he said softly, looking away.

Kurapika stared down at it, feeling his heart thump painfully against his chest. Even when she was at her worst, (Name) made sure that they would all be fed.

‘I’m so fucking selfish.’

—————————

(Name) fell into a restless sleep once she fell into her bed. She was emotionally and physically exhausted, and hadn’t even bothered to take off her bloody clothing.

She tossed and turned, finally able to sleep somewhat decently a little past midnight.

(Name) hadn’t been expecting to have anything but nightmares that night, but instead of the images of the man she murdered flashing in her mind, she felt… peaceful.

A field of poppies stretched around her as far as she could see. When she looked around, she noticed she was sitting at a bench, an empty teacup in her hands.

“You’ll catch a cold, dear.”

A jacket was draped over her shoulders. (Name) hadn’t noticed before, but the air was chilly, and she was shivering. “Th-thank you…”

Warmth spread through her body, and she could feel someone sitting beside her, their leg touching hers. “You’ve had a long week, haven’t you?”

The voice was soft and feminine, a hint of concern lacing her words. A hand was placed on her leg, the person’s touch gentle, yet firm. She noticed she couldn’t turn her head to look at the person next to her, but that didn’t scare or concern her. (Name) felt strangely comforted by the woman’s presence, finally able to relax. “Yes… it was… not easy.”

“Not easy is an understatement. You’ve been under a lot of stress, forced to bear all of this pain alone.”

Tears began to fall from (Name)’s eyes. It had been difficult to contain her turbulent emotions for the past week, no, for the past two years. She felt like she just had her heart broken all over again.

“I… I love him so much… I want him to be happy, I want to give-“

The woman gently held her hands that gripped the teacup. “You can’t give when your cup is empty, dear. Let yourself be filled back up, before you try and give more.”

The teacup filled up with with a steaming, amber liquid. “Go ahead, drink. Tea is good for the soul.”

(Name) raised the cup to her lips, taking a sip. It was perfectly sweet, with a peachy aftertaste. It helped calm her nerves, and clear her mind.

The warmth of the woman’s hands caressed her cheek, wiping away (Name)’s tears. “Thank you… I-“

(Name) was finally able to turn her head to look at the woman, but all she caught was a glimpse of blonde hair and a pleasant smile.

She woke up, noticing the chill in the air. However, she wasn’t cold. (Name) was tucked under her blanket, wearing a pair of clean pajamas and fuzzy socks on her feet.

‘I wonder… who got me changed…’

(Name) began to get up, ready to make breakfast for everyone when she remembered the woman’s words.

“You can’t give when your cup is empty, dear. Let yourself be filled back up, before you try and give more.”

Instead of getting up, (Name) curled up under her blanket, texting Killua that he could either make himself a bowl of cereal or order some takeout for breakfast.

She spent the early morning sleeping in, allowing herself some much needed rest.

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

"OUR NUDES"

⛅⛅⛅⛅⛅⛅⛅⛅⛅⛅⛅⛅⛅⛅⛅⛅⛅⛅⛅⛅⛅⛅⛅⛅⛅⛅⛅⛅⛅⛅

YES!

90 for ⛅:

---

Buck looks at him for a long moment before replying. “You’re serious?”

“Why not?” Eddie asks. Because unless Buck has a better reason, Eddie is sort of thinking the why not would be him. Him not letting himself feel anything other than what he’s supposed to feel. He’s never let himself wonder. Consider. 

He’s considering it now. 

“Would it be so bad?” Eddie asks again, nervous, when Buck hasn’t replied. 

Buck’s face goes a little slack. 

“No. The opposite. The complete opposite.”

Eddie swallows. He really wants to take Buck up on his offer, if it still stands. He doesn’t want to disappoint him. To provide lofty expectations. But… But maybe they aren’t lofty. Maybe Eddie already knows what the answer to Buck’s proposed kiss is going to be. He hardly even needs it. He’s not going to say that though. 

“So…” Eddie tries. “So, I can…”

“Just stand up and let me kiss you,” Buck practically demands. 

Yeah. Okay. That. 

He does as Buck says. He swings his legs over the side of the bed and straightens up. The moment he’s in a steady enough position, Buck reaches to cup his face and pull him in for a kiss. Eddie’s whole body lights up with anticipation. But then Buck pauses. Lips an inch apart. It’s all Eddie can do not to actually whine in complaint. 

“What’s wrong?” Eddie asks, sounding more breathless than he should for having only stood up.

Buck’s eyes scan over Eddie’s mouth. 

“I don’t want to take advantage of your sexuality crisis,” he admits. 

Can he make up his damn mind? 

“Jesus Chris,” Eddie huffs. He presses forward and kisses Buck himself. Buck makes a quick little gasped sound, then kisses Eddie back like there’s a fire under his ass. Like kissing Eddie is the most urgent thing in the world.

And you know what? Maybe it is. 

Maybe this is the most urgent thing in the world. Eddie’s brain and body and heart seem to all be in agreement, anyway. Kissing Buck is an entirely new sensation, while not being very different from any of his kisses in the past. It’s all the same motions, but the feeling is completely novel. Like he’s being enveloped by the whole damn sun. He feels so warm. So entranced. So much like he could do this forever, and not get enough. 

Eventually, Eddie pulls away from Buck. Buck makes a small moan of protests. His eyes are hazy and blown. He can’t seem to drag them away from Eddie’s lips.

“What’s wrong with you?” Eddie demands. 

Buck goes slack-jawed. “What? I stopped, it was you-”

“Why didn’t you tell me it was this much better?” Eddie interrupts. 

Buck’s expression turns from mortification to confusion.

“Uh, what?”

“You never told me it was that much better! Kissing men. I thought it would be… Well, I don’t know. I never thought about it. But holy shit.”

Buck blinks. “Um… Maybe because, uh, before, I wouldn’t have really said it was better. Equal, but different, maybe?”

Eddie processes this. 

“Oh,” he replies. “Oh, shit.”

“What?” Buck asks. 

“I could be gay,” Eddie admits.

Buck looks a little alarmed. “Because of one kiss?”

“No!” Eddie protests. “Well yes. But also more than that!”

“More than that?” Buck asks. “You were sort of horrified at the idea of us having sex together, remember.”

“No! I wasn’t horrified. I was… Confused.”