#if it turns out to be confusing or a clusterfuck

[tennessoui]

ko-fi fic uploads

hey guys, I'm going to start putting some of my new tumblr prompt fills and writing warm-ups (ficlets of 4k-6k length) up on my ko-fi!!

Monthly supporters will be able to go into the gallery tab on my ko-fi and click on an uploaded image. The title will be which tumblr-based au the ficlet fits into and how many words it is. The description beneath the image will be a quick summary of the au and a link to the google doc containing the ficlet. The "root" au post, aka the post that started the au on my blog, will be linked as well on that google doc.

This will not affect my wips and progress on them in any way! I feel like that's very important to state - I write these sorts of ficlets all the time because it helps get me in the writing mindset for writing ao3 fics. I will just be spending a little extra effort on them to put them up on ko-fi.

I will NOT be posting any ficlets on my ko-fi that you need to read to understand a fic on ao3 - that's some disney monster conglomerate kind of shit. I will also still be posting shorter ficlets (1k-3k) on tumblr as I write them, especially if I'm answering a prompt someone sent me here. Again, I think it'd be a bit of dick move to not do that

I'll try to vary which ficlets go up on ko-fi and every time I upload one, I'll make a post about which au it is as well as a link to the page in case anyone wants to, idk, unsubscribe for a month because they hate the hopeless in coruscant au, and then refollow next month because they enjoy the playmaker au etc etc

I'm definitely still trying to figure out what I want this to look like and what feels fair or reasonable, so hopefully this isn't a huge mess on my end!

All this being said:

I've posted the first ficlet/fic on ko-fi: it's for the Senator Menace AU, an au that's basically "What if phantom menace but reversed? how fucked up would anakin get over the youngling his father master died to protect?"

the first au post is here // my ko-fi is here

[messenger-of-babel]

Voicemails

Summary: When complications arise on his mission, all he has is one phone call back to you. (Death Island! Leon x reader)

Word Count: 2.1K

Notes: It really does end here, huh? 🥹 This is the last post for this month. We have officially finished Angstober 2024. Thank you to everyone who liked, commented, reblogged, followed, and sent me things to my inbox. It's going to be weird not writing for you all every day, but you'll still see me around. I'm going to take a small break and write in the background, get through requests and stuff. I'm moving house and graduating at the same time so I might not post a whole lot till I'm settled again, but then you can count on me for more than angst!

General warnings for language use, spoilers for Death Island if you haven't seen it (you should it's quite funny), and a mildly OOC Leon but we can all be saps sometimes. Warping the events of the movie to my own benefit.

Enjoy our last post of this month, sweethearts~

RiRi xx

━━━━━━━━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"You wanna make a call?" Chris grunts, looking down at him. Leon looks up at him, vision blurry and pain radiating through his body. His neck stings from where the microdrone bit him, and he can no longer feel anything from his thighs down, just a numb tingle. He has to consciously remind himself to breathe, in through the nose and out through the mouth.

"You got- you got a way?" he rasps back, eyes scrunching in confusion. Chris nods, the bigger man bucking slightly against the cell wall he's leaning against.

"Left- left pocket." he grits out. "Claire got the signal through before we got bit. It's only strong enough for one call, then Dylan's framework will probably patch it."

Leon sighs, head hitting the rusted bars of Alcatraz. This had been another run of the mill mission, find the missing scientist selling government secrets, pack him up and ship him back to the government to be trialled at court. In the true fashion of his 'run of the mill missions', nothing went according to that plan and veered off into a clusterfuck as usual. The BSAA had been involved chasing their own leads, and he had run into Jill in the sewers running from zombies. the plague that seemed to follow him like a shadow ever since he left Raccoon as a young and very traumatised cop.

He was supposed to get in and out, wrap it up so he could come home to you like he promised. As he sat there writhing, he wondered what the look on your face would be if he wasn't able to make it to the cruise that you had both planned. You had lobbied both him and the DSO for a holiday, and after many angry letters and snatching the phone out of his hand to yell at his supervisor, you had succeeded in getting him two months off. Without hesitation you had booked the both of you on a cruise, shushing him every time he had tried to protest.

If he was being honest, just sleeping at home would have been enough. He could barely remember the last time that he had sat down or stopped for a moment. The days that he was at the office or on a mission blurred together so often that he was beginning to forget what colour you had both decided to paint the kitchen, making him falter when coworkers made small talk with him in the staff room. Which side of the bed you preferred to sleep on, what bills needed to be paid first, whether the spare bedroom was being turned into an office or a workshop or not. It was when his forgetfulness led him to forget what month it was and being blindsided to your own anniversary that he finally snapped out of it.

You had been sitting on the porch steps dressed in your finery, watery eyes looking up at him as he pulled into the driveway, your knees pulled to your chest. He had jumped from the car like you were shot, the realisation of what he had done thrumming hard in his chest. "I'm so sorry" he had murmured into your hair, holding you tight. "I am so so sorry."

You had just sniffled in response and eventually gave him a weak hug back, and he clung to that like a lifeline. He swore that he would never fuck up like that again, and he intended to keep that promise.

So, he had relented to the cruise vacation, telling himself that he would be able to relax and unwind on the seas and out of service of work. They could call another agent for once, he wanted to focus on nothing but the smile you wore as you got to carry out the couple things he felt he had denied you your entire relationship. Getting to use the swim up bar, taking photos together, dressing in matching clothes for the cheesy cruise quiz nights. If that was what you wanted, that is what he was going to give you. Besides, it gave him a chance to relish in you again.

You, who had cancelled the wedding of your dreams to get married at the courthouse with him when he got called away suddenly and you weren't sure if you would see him again. You had been married within hours with the rings he had picked and you in the finest you could find on such short notice. He had thought you looked stunning, even if the lighting was the harsh LED of the courthouse and not candles like you had wanted.

You, who had put up with months of him being gone, not knowing if he was dead or alive. Who had to stay up late tracking the news for crumbs of his whereabouts, only able to make guesses to where he might have been assigned. Every death, every bioterrorist attack overseas carrying the possibility that Leon's body was among those being pulled from the carnage.

You, who he was calling right now with the jacked cell phone from Chris's pocket, dial tone droning on.

Leon had been stung last, used as nothing more than an example to show off the latest weapon in the bioterror market. Yet he was losing feeling fast, much faster than Chris or even Claire struggling in the other cell. It was like his atoms were screaming at him, writhing in him at a molecular level. Breathing felt like it was through a damp cloth, lungs having to work twice as hard to suck oxygen into his lungs. His eyelids were struggling to stay awake and fight off the black curtains that floated in the corners. he could see the way that the others looked at him, with pity and with concern. As soon as he had caught the eye of Chris, saw the flicker of fear cross the usually confident man's face, he knew that he was reacting worse than all of them.

So here he was, heart in his throat as he prepared to tell you the words he hadn't been expecting to say when he left that morning. When the line doesn't pick up he curses, waiting for the tone. He wasn’t going to waste his chance.

"Hi! If I haven't picked up, I can't come to the phone right now. If you leave a message, I'll get back to you as soon as I can. Please wait for the beep, thank you!"

He smiles to himself at the chipper tone of your voice, sounding heaven sent even through the phone. When he hears the tone he takes a deep breath, as big as he can and puts a fake smile on his face. He hopes that it makes his tone come out just a little sweeter for you, even though he knows that you'll be worried regardless.

"Hey, Sweetheart." he starts, voice raspy. "I'm sorry to be calling you like this. I just wanted to call to hear your voice. I-I missed you. I know you didn’t pick up, so you're probably busy. Now don't call me back immediately, I... won’t be able to pick up for a while. I just...damnit I wanted to just hear you." He grits out, head falling against the bars as he loses strength in his neck. He catches eyes with Chris, the older man's eyes misting over as he looks down at him before he turns his head away, the most privacy he can give him in the situation.

"I just wanted to call to let you know that I love you...and I miss you." he begins again. With his eyes closed the words come easier, the image of you flitting into his mind's eye. You look at him in his spectral vision with a smile, encouraging him to go on. He feels his chest ease, like he's actually talking to you, and the both of you are the only ones in the room. "I know you're going to worry. I know this doesn't sound good-" he grits his teeth against another hot flash of pain. "And... it’s not." he finishes. "I want to tell you…that I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I don't think I'm gonna make it home tonight, baby. I... I might not make it back from this." he tries to chuckle, but the sound is dry, and the effort hurts his chest. "Things got bad here, and it's not looking good. I think- I think it ends here, honey. If I don't make it just...just, please look after yourself."

He takes a shaky breath, and the silence of everyone around him is deafening. The scene is oddly private and uncomfortable for the others in the vicinity, while the usually ever-energetic man known as Leon delivers his verbal will. "I know you won’t want to go, but go on that cruise. You worked hard for it, and you were so excited. I wanted to go swimming with you, fall asleep by the pool and pretend it was the honeymoon I owe you. So, I want you to still go on it. Even if I don't come back...I'll ask the big man above to let me hang around long enough to do it with you, even if you won't be able to see me. I made a promise remember? No more missing big things." he whispers into the phone.

His throat is beginning to hurt, like speaking around a sharp lump every time he formed a word. "And the house is yours, it should go into your name. The car, everything, you'll have it all. I just...I just wish it could have been different, you know?" he says into the receiver, that has begun to waver by his cheek. "But it is what it is, and I guess it finally caught up to me. I'm sorry I was such a shitty husband." he says, a light tremor in his voice. "I wish I had come home to you more, not left the bed cold. I wish I could have made you more dinners and more breakfasts in bed, just to show you how much I loved you. I love you. I love you so much it hurts. I never told it to you enough, or managed to even put into actions just how much you mean to me, but I do. You mean everything, sweetheart." he chokes into the phone, a small smile on his face. "I love you more than anything, so...so don't think anything else, okay? This isn't your fault. It never was. You were the best thing that ever happened to me, you hear me? So you pick yourself up when I'm gone," he gasps out, hand beginning to waver. "You put yourself back in that saddle, and you show the world just how strong you are. Show them the person I fell in love with." he says with a smile, before breaking into a fit of painful coughs.

"Don't stay up, sweetheart. Get to bed early. I miss you, more than you'll ever know." he coughs out into the receiver before his body can't hold him up anymore and he slides down the bars until his cheek is pressing into the concrete, hand falling to his side and phone clattering against the stone. He can hear the tone end, and the automated whoosh sound as the voicemail sends. With bleary eyes he can make out the turned head of Claire, looking down at him with wobbling lips and tear-filled eyes.

"Look after 'em, hey?" he rasps out, pain in his chest stabbing as the black curtains begin to slide across his vision. Claire nods, and he can hear Chris grunt in the background. Leon falls into an unconsciousness shortly after, the smiling image of you the last thing he holds close to him as the blackness swallows him completely. As his body stills, a small smile is frozen on his face, the arrogant half tilted smirk he so loved to give you.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

Typing away at your computer, you work till your eyes go square from the computer screen. You wipe a hand over your face as you review the spreadsheet that you're working on, leaning back to take a sip of your coffee. Your music blasts in your headphones, and for a quick break you pull up the checklist you've made for your upcoming holiday.

You're so engrossed in your work that you're unaware as your phone screen glows to life beside you, message popping across your notification bar.

You have (1) new voicemails.

[theshitpostcalligrapher]

Refilling the to-write document - running the usual end of month Dashspam

Heyo regulars know what the deal is by now!

If yallre new, im gonna spend some time organizing my requests by answering asks and adding them to my master notepad doc. the reason i do this is a) to keep shit organized for what gets written when and b) rely on yall in case someone tries to slip super obscure slurs past me again. I usually do this at night to avoid too much of a dash-clusterfuck.

remember i have a few major rules for what will and won't get accepted as a request (shitposts only/noserious quotes, no bigotry/racist bullshit, the text has to be short enough to fit onto a cue card, and no dupes of previous requests unless it's been long enough to redo as an art-progression thing) so if it turns out that your request didn't end up following the rules, I'll probably dm you to ask for a replacement

to avoid the dashspam either blacklist “added to notepad” or unfollow me for the next coupla hours

remember that xkit should have a ‘toggle to hide blocked posts’ button so you don’t have a giant dash of ‘this post contains filtered tags’ or feel free to unfollow for a while

all the inboxes except dm are closed rn to avoid confusion, they’ll stay closed til i get all my shit sorted

[corkinavoid]

back to the old house the smiths

right person wrong time

winter evenings aesthetic

i really love your work thank you so much💖

DPxDC At the End & In the Beginning

All it takes is one little misstep.

He slips on the layers and layers of ice and snow covering the once concrete floor, tries to catch himself on the wall out of sheer reflex, and something silvery, metallic, and clanky goes clattering down. Dick doesn't even have time to feel his heart sinking as the object hits the icy floors, bounces, hits a table leg with a loud bang - metal to ice, it echoes through the abandoned, frozen and forgotten lab - and-

There's a beep, a hiss of pressurized air being released, and then, whatever it is that Dick dropped lights up and shoots a white, blinding beam out of itself.

Dick covers his eyes from the flash, since even the lenses of his mask are not able to dim it in the slightest.

Yet, he puts his hand down almost immediately when he hears the most unexpected, absolutely impossible sound.

A cough.

There's a man kneeling in front of him. A rather fit man, actually, despite the fact that Dick only sees his back and it's mostly covered with a black cape; he's got broad shoulders and, wow, those biceps are thicker than Dick's thigh. Okay, maybe that's an exaggeration, but they are big.

He is probably focusing on the wrong thing there because the man's hair is white, just as the snow around them, and floating like a flame. Which is arguably a more important detail than, well, biceps.

"Fucking kid," the man growls under his breath.

Now, Dick is a vigilante. It's pretty much in his job description to get stuck in an all-around confusing clusterfuck situation at least once a month. And yet, watching a buff man with flaming hair and some kind of beef with some unknown kid come out of... a thermos, okay, not the weirdest thing to store a man in, still takes its honorable place among the top ten confusing situations in his life. Not to mention that-

He must have made some sort of a sound, because the man turns around suddenly, his glowing red eyes locking with Dick's.

There's a long moment where neither of them says a word, both too stunned to react. Then, the man blinks.

"Huh," he says very eloquently, "At least he's had a few years, I guess."

Dick blinks, too, snapping himself out of a stupor. "What?" He asks, not sure where to start, and the man snorts.

"I mean, when I was imprisoned - according to this timeline, at least - you were still Robin. If you're Nightwing now, that means it's been a few years, at the least. Is your brother still dead?" He asks conversationally, rising from his kneeling position. Only he doesn't stand, he floats a few inches above the floor, and Dick might have suspected him to be Martian if not for the very wrong green hue of his skin and obviously more human-like, albeit a bit feral, features.

"What?" Dick asks again because he still understands absolutely nothing. The man gives him a weary, exasperated sigh.

"You know what, nevermind. Not like I care," he brushes his previous words off, "Where are we, anyway?"

Oh, that Dick can answer. He's almost glad for understanding at least something from all the stuff that comes out of the man's mouth.

"Amity Park," he says, "I don't know any street names here, but I've been trying to get to the starting point of this eternal winter apocalypse, so-"

"Stop right there," the man raises a hand in the air, frowning, and his face looks a tad bit lost, but mostly just sharp, eyes dangerously narrowed, "Winter apocalypse?"

Dick debates if he should be answering that at all, given the circumstances and the unknown origins of the entity. But, on the other hand, there's literally no way anything could get worse than it is.

"Yeah. We've got another ice age on our hands, and it looks like it started here. Like, right here," he gestures around himself, to the missing roof that looks like it was blown away, to the abandoned and frozen over lab equipment, and the layers and layers of snow and ice.

The man looks around as well, and Dick might be imagining it, but there's a flicker or recognition in his eyes as he takes in everything around him. Dick, however, decides it's his turn to ask questions now, "Who are you?"

"Name's Dan," the man introduces absently, not looking at Dick, and then his lips twist into a bitter smile, "I am the cause of the apocalypse." There's a pause where Dick feels his stomach abruptly sinking, and then the man adds, "Ah, not this apocalypse. A different one."

"Err, I feel like one apocalypse is enough. No, actually, one apocalypse is too many apocalypses. Please don't make more," Dick can't help but deadpan, and Dan barks a laugh.

"I've already made one. Not here, in a different timeline," he glances at Dick, "You've managed to stay alive till the very end in that one, too, actually. I guess your family is just very well adjusted for world ending events."

Different timelines are not an unfamiliar concept, and weirder shit has happened in his life, so Dick decides to believe it. However, that comes with a consequence of a dawning understanding: he is standing here, chit-chatting with someone who's caused an apocalypse. And he, albeit unintentionally, freed him.

"Relax, blue pants, world domination is not exactly interesting when there's nothing to dominate," Dan huffs a laugh, evidently noticing Dick tensing up, "Besides, it looks like no matter what my alternative self did, the result was all the same. We just had different approaches."

"What?" This is the third time Dick is asking this. He feels very stupid, yes, but he can't bring himself to ask more detailed questions. There's just too many confusing points.

Dan raises his head up, looking to the dark skies above them.

"If you say the eternal winter started here, then I believe I know what caused it," he says in a detached, emotionless voice.

Dick can't help but feel a spark of hope in his chest, "Really?!"

"Yes," Dan doesn't look at him, his flaming hair dimming slightly, "A destruction of a particularly powerful Ice Core would definitely achieve this effect." He pauses, and Dick knows he should ask for more context because he still understands nothing, but something in the man's posture, in his tight expression and firm line of his lips stops the words from coming.

So, instead, he asks, "How do you fix it?"

Dan's eyes finally snap back at him, and his eyes are red like blood and so, so tired.

"You can't fix death, Richard Grayson. It's too late."

~•~•~•~

I sure took my time with this one, I'm sorry.

I didn't get to explaining much in text - and I'm much too lazy to turn this into an actual fic even if it has the potential to be one - so, long story short, the Bad Fenton Parents Ending happened, only no one came to rescue. Danny spent too much time down in the lab, strapped to the table and cut open, but no one came. In the end, either Fentons have done something to his core, or he couldn't handle it anymore and self-destructed/destabilized from all the suffering. His core exploded, causing the winter apocalypse that quickly spread. Months/years later, what remained of the heroes have located the original source of where it all started from, and Nightwing went to investigate, looking for any kinds of clues to reverse the ice age.

Honestly, I kind of played with both the trope and the aesthetic here - I mean, it's definitely 'right person wrong time' when you think about it, Nightwing did find Daniel Fenton in the lab, but it was much too late, and it's definitely a 'winter evening' but probably not the one you expected.

At least I got the song alright? Actually, no, I twisted the whole meaning of it as well. Anyway, I like what it turned into, even if it's surprisingly depressing.

I'm adding a little aesthetic that I used for this piece:

Hope you like it!

[methoughtsphantom]

halfas are the found family trope foster child

they all adopt each other. it’s the reason Vlad wanted so badly to have Danny as his son and the reason Danny immediately went with sure you’re my cousin now with Dani. it’s a survival mechanism from being so very few of their species. Sooo, halfa!Jason except he sorta isn’t yet cause Jason’s core is extremely ruptured from the lack of ectoplasm involved in his forceful resurrection. So when Danny finds Jason in his catatonic state he can’t quite tell the dude’s been dead and remains some, just that the guy for some reason seems very friend-shaped. Danny doesn’t mind his friend is braindead, and is also a john doe, he gives familiar vibes and that’s apparently enough for Danny to constantly find himself in the hospital doing his engineering homework on the room with the guy, and talking for hours about the updates on the absolute clusterfuck of the city and how he was from a freaking ghost town and he can almost even draw comparisons. he blabbers about how he’s not homesick enough times to even corner himself to talk about a ghost lore many times and how he’s just finding himself a little more prone to violence and in constant pain since none of the people he has adopted as his family are here with him and he can’t consider a place a lair if there’s isn’t someone of his in it.

But Danny could never drag someone with him just because of some it, after all it was Danny’s choice to come to Gotham to collage and not stay where at least his parents (good parents Jack and Maddie) were in Amity.

Ironically, Danny essentially can’t feel that his core has been spoon feeding ectoplasm to Jason. As months go on, the little ball of energy builds in anticipation practically vibrating in the waiting pulse of something (Danny doesn’t know but more often than not has he found himself laughing in happy confusion. it weirds him out in a good way) It’s really that he’s feeling the slow healing process of his friend (brother brother brother) ‘s core.Imagine it’s just about to properly, correctly heal when canon strikes back and Jason gets snatched by League assassins. Danny is left feeling like his core got torned out. His core had spend months helping another’s only to feel the other’s imprint and to not be able to protect it in return is— forget it being an obsession; thats like having your newborn baby being ripped out of your arms. An all assuaging feeling of helplessness that is devastating. Danny just beginning to feel like home lair when out of nowhere the rug is swept under him. Danny suddenly struggling to not flunk all his classes and beat every single liminal that he can feel crossing paths with him to the ground. Danny suddenly having his chronic pain (that hadn’t been so bad lately) dialed up to the point that there are just bearable and bad days.

The worse thing is he doesn’t know why.

Jason had only been a guy.

…

It’s only a three weeks before Jazz tells him she accepted a job offer in Gotham.

(and the guilt only makes him feel worse when he can feel himself feel better because of it)

…

now

whimsical time skip ✨

Danny is now on his feet again and friends with a Wayne of your choice (or maybe they were friends a little before Jay dissapeared and it was badTM cause Waynes? liminal 🥲) Danny definitely didn’t enjoy snapping off to his friend like that. anyways it’s been a year since that and he and his friend are having a grand time playing civvies, uhh let’s say dick because I want them to meet while ice skating, Also Dick because he definitely turns a blind eye when Danny goes airborne for a second there yep. He’s just having too much fun.

anyways as alwaysTM Danny doesn’t clock celebrities and like why would he, Dick is just the random guy who’s was fast to turn Danny’s slow day in the ice ring into a competition one day and brighten when Danny matched up his puns. So he totally doesn’t get why the guy’s so gloomy one day, anyways as you can figure, it’s Jason’s deathday and Dick is a deprecating bean, Danny tries to cheer him up by having him remember his brother instead and Dick attempts to, but even skipping through some photos in his phone make his eyes burn.

It is because of that that he doesn’t notice Danny absolutely freeze up at the photo of his friend Jay (Jay because he’s a John Doe, but that’s just too impersonal and so the first letter is J *wink wink*)

Danny absolutely doesn’t know what to do with this information, barely catches himself from asking Dick how did his brother die. Most importantly when because Danny just saw Jay—Jason less than a year ago, and this somehow doesn’t feel too recent.

Annd that how we find Danny digging into the Wayne second son tragedy. Staring at the date of death while the knowledge that they met almost six months after burns his forefront of his mind. Danny spends a day going over all the questions running through his mind over how the fuck he couldn’t sense Jay was a ghost—err was… in past tense?? what the fuck?? Danny would really like a refund on his ghost sense.

Anyways Danny goes check out the grave (now that he knows there is one) and boom although intangible he somehow triggers those shitty ass sensors/alarms that somehow didn’t go off when jason was literally digging himself out.

Obviously the bats get in the case immediately. And boy are they absolutely enraged that someone would steal Jason’s body.

[trickstarbrave]

the battle of red mountain. i guess.

i figured putting this in a better post than the one with like 5 reblogs explaining my theories that ppl dont rb all the additions of will prob be better

the battle of red mountain has some contradictory things between accounts and things that don't always entirely make sense. why would nerevar have keening during the battle? sure you can say voryn stole the tools from kagrenac but how he would have done that is a mystery that requires a lot of additional theorizing i think. he was also very importantly mostly fucking around with the nords i think at the time.

the nords also explain nerevar was fighting alongside dumac. which would be weird if all the dwemer were united. "well, the nords are stupid and wouldn't understand and just assumed dumac and nerevar were fighting together" i dont think you need to be a massive genius to figure out if two dudes are trying to kill each other or someone else. "well they also said lorkhan was there and we know thats not true" do we know that? i dont think we can say for certain

so to summarize, based on what i have gathered from details i think are credible about the battle of red mountain and what details conflicting accounts have in common (even tho there was prob a dragon break bc numidium was involved but i think most of these things are similar):

voryn discovers that the numidium is being built. nerevar goes to dumac and asks if it's true. he says no. nerevar is conflicted because he trusts both dumac and voryn and one of them has to be lying. he goes to azura, and azura says kagrenac is building the numidium without dumac's knowledge.

nerevar returns to dumac. unlike many accounts where he declares war because dumac keeps denying it, i think that after a heated discussion, dumac decides to look into it. it turns out azura and voryn were right. he is horrified.

this triggers a dwemer civil war. kagrenac insists this is just a tool that can be used to protect their people, and that peace between them and the chimer may not last. dumac or nerevar can die one day and if that happens, the alliance will fall apart. different dwemer fall into different factions, some supporting dumac, some supporting kagrenac. note: i think some might have only been on dumac's side because they thought kagrenac's plan is too reckless and dangerous. others are backing kagrenac not because they think the numidium is necessarily a good idea but because they have not been enjoying the alliance between the dwemer and chimer.

with this dwemer civil war, kagrenac's dwemer declare war on the chimer. it's a massive clusterfuck

during this time, almalexia, sotha sil, and vivec (perhaps others on the council too who knows) think that it is too dangerous to just fight the dwemer head on especially since they dont all know how the numidium really works. they believe it would be a better idea to get the nords involved so the nords can throw themselves in the line of fire and they will lose less chimer

they send voryn to do this. voryn immediately clocks that they want to probably also stage a coup after this, but he is big mad at the dwemer for unknown reasons so he goes along with it, or maybe the nords promised him smth. who knows. he goes to the nords and says he knows where shor's heart it, and its in red mountain and the dwemer are doing fucked up shit to it

during this time, ALMSIVI give false orders to chimer battalions so they don't get caught up in the worst fighting. nerevar is confused why the men he has requested aren't showing up, and nords are just attacking chimer and dwemer indiscriminately.

the nords believe the numidium is shor. it is also possible lorkhan was in fact possessing the numidium given his heart was in there. idk. difficult to say. all i know is when they saw nerevar and dumac attacking it to turn it off, the nords thought they were trying to kill lorkhan

numidium is turned off. during this time, kagrenac gets the tools again and bangs on the heart. somehow this makes the dwemer all disappear. there is widespread shock and confusion

nerevar now has to deal with whatever the fuck just happened. he is injured, soldiers were given the complete wrong directions, where the fuck did all the dwemer go, will they be back, and what the fuck do they do with this giant world ending robot and god heart???

voryn says they should destroy the tools here and now. nerevar knows this is a difficult decision and asks voryn to guard the heart and tools until he can think it over. this was a certified Bad Move™ as i think being around the heart long term causes corruption. the heart wants to be used.

almsivi make the argument that they don't know where the dwemer went, if they're all dead, if they will be back, whatever. if they destroy the tools, kagrenac can make more, but there is no guarantee the chimer can steal them again. it would be better to keep them locked away. considering they were right that the peace between the chimer and dwemer was more rocky than nerevar wanted to believe, he thinks it over and also asks azura. azura tells him no one should use those tools ever. nerevar comes to a compromise between destroying them and decides to make them all swear to never use them. then he goes to get the tools presumably to lock them away

voryn has been driven mad and rightfully calls out that if he gives nerevar the tools, almsivi just want to use them for themselves and kill nerevar. he is deranged and rambling and mad. almsivi tell nerevar that voryn might have allied with the nords during all this and is spouting nonsense. nerevar has to try and get the tools from him by force, and ends up killing him by mistake and is wounded himself

almsivi finish killing nerevar, and take the tools. after sil studies them, they know how to use them and the red moment happens. during this time, house dagoth are labeled traitors and wiped out.

azura gets mad that they broke their oath and "curses" all the chimer

[frostedsugarcookiehearts]

she's nineteen, (she's got a fake id and a nose ring)

୨ৎ

schlatt was, for once in his life, impressed. he was at a party— but not a shitty party or a clusterfuck of people getting high and boning, but a fancy party. there was a cake that looked like a wedding cake, paintings all around the studio apartment and it seemed to have an actual theme.

"who's party are we at?" schlatt hissed to his friend ted, the local. ted, easygoing as ever, waved a hand dismissively and smiled (was he really stoned already?)

he grinned, slinging an arm lazily across schlatt's shoulder. "my buddy from college. we had an art class together. they're celebrating their new art exhbition. i think it's opening up here, new york, and someplace overseas. either france or japan."

"huh. how old are they again?" he grunted, a little interested. if they went to college with ted, they were probably around his age. he was hoping they were way older, because if they were the same age, what would he have to show? "i make youtube videos" versus "

"nineteen."

his jaw went slack. "what?" he was two years older than them, and he'd made good money from youtube, and was pretty successful for his age, but that was fucking insane.

ted got distracted, getting caught up in a conversation with a bunch of spring breakers, leaving schlatt alone. he was chatting to a random girl, but she didn't seem very interested in him or the conversation at all. not one to force a poor girl to sit through his ramblings, he sighed, making his way over to the cake.

"hey, who are you?" he glanced over to his right to see— well, he wasn't sure. a pretty girl, yeah, but also a pretty girl with rainbow highlights, bright makeup and dressed in a little grey sequin skirt and an off-the shoulder black tee that cut off the sleeves. golden jewelry was everywhere— rings, necklaces, bracelets, earrings— and she was a vision. a colorful one, at that!

twenty-one years old, and he was speechless. like an idiot. he stammered like the kids he used to bully in high school, "uhm, h—hi."

"you're hi?" you blink, a grin gracing your face. "or high. isn't everyone here?" snickering, you vaguely gesture to the rest of your party with your bare shoulder.

"no— no!" he shook his head, looking down at you with his eyes wide. "uhm, my name's schlatt. not high. or hi. just schlatt."

"hi, schlatt. you a fan of my work?"

"uh... honest? i've never seen it. but i'm a fan of—" his voice, possibly the biggest cockblock of all time, cracked. his voice cracked as he wobbled out his attempt at flirting, "—your outfit."

you chuckle. to schlatt, it sounds like a pity chuckle, but you know. "thanks. sponsored by my closet." he lets out a laugh. "where you from, schlatt?"

"new york."

intrigued, you let out a hum. "what brought you to LA?"

schlatt pointed to ted, who was laughing hysterically, a girl on his arm. a new party girlfried who's number ted would lose (adhd problems) by the end of the night. "my friend there."

"oh, ted! we went to college together. the film major." you giggle. "and quite the ladies' man, i can see. and you?"

confused, he tilts his head. "me?" he repeats.

"are you a ladies' man?"

for the first time this night, he was smooth. grinning, he quips, "i'm talking to you, aren't i?"

a laugh escaped your lips, coated in expensive, colorful liplgoss. "good point. do you want to see some of my paintings, or do you want a beer?"

"is both an option?"

you mock-gasp, smiling. "a man after my own heart."

schlatt wasn't an art guy— that was ted's thing— but your art was breath-taking. it made him feel something, that he could see all your emotions poured out onto a canvas. "it's kind of like making youtube videos," he blurted. "i put my whole self into them. like you do, with your paintings." that made you smile, though you had no idea what youtube was. that was okay though, because schlatt slung an arm around your shoulder and showed you his videos, explaining each part on every one. in turn, you did the same with your paintings, sharing each other's artistic processes.

since schlatt and ted already knew you, it wasn't too odd when schlatt would get you to pull up to a lunch club shoot. or when you cameo'd in a video. or when you practically joined the squad!

and it wasn't too weird when, in due time, schlatt had you around his arm, kissing your lips in front of everyone. and it definitely wasn't too weird when you released a new collection, exclusively in new york, called my whole self, featuring portraits of schlatt himself.

୨ৎ

divider credits @omi-resources

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Whatever the future may hold

Written for the May pop-up challenge of the @steddieholidaydrabbles

Prompt: Graduation

Rated: M

Tags: Omegaverse; omega!Eddie; alpha!Steve; pregnancy; mentions of sex

Notes: Set in the same universe as Whatever you want it to be

Eddie turns the square cap in his hands, feeling utterly and supremely sorry for himself. He's been imagining this day for so long. Snatching that diploma from Higgins's unwilling hands and prancing off that stage into a brighter, better future.

Only now, that future fills him with nothing but dread.

He groans, burying his face in his arms.

It was all going so well.

A while ago, when Carver and his possee found out about his little omegan secret, he thought his life was over.

Except Steve Harrington swooped in like a white, baseball bat wielding knight and saved him, and took him home, and cared for him. Knotted him near damn stupid, too, not that Eddie is complaining.

They've since commenced what must be the weirdest courtship in the history of courtship - stolen glances and subtle gifts and furtive dates at Steve's house or Eddie’s trailer. Eddie has kept his secret safe, and Steve is its biggest protector.

It's perfect. Everything Eddie never knew he wanted.

So of course it couldn't last.

“Eddie?”

Shit!

He must've been so far gone in his head he didn't hear the trailer door open, didn't catch the scent wafting into his bedroom. Pine needles and moss and sunlight.

“Stevie,” he croaks, and his stomach twists.

Footsteps approach. The doorknob rattles once, twice, before Steve realizes it's locked. His scent turns worried. Steve's worried about him. Eddie’s needy hindbrain whines at the thought.

“Eds, lemme in. Please?”

Eddie is unlocking the door before he even realizes he’s moved. Quickly, dread clawing at his guts, he retreats back onto his bed.

“Hey,” Steve ducks around the gown dangling from its hanger by the door. “Wayne called, said you wouldn’t come out of your room? Ceremony’s about to start, what are you- Eddie? What’s wrong?”

Because he has just spotted Eddie, back against the wall, arms wrapped around hunched knees, trembling hand still clasping the cap. Steve is in front of him in an instant, mattress dipping under his weight. His hands cup Eddie’s face, tilting his head up, and Eddie knows he should pull away, he really should. Still, he’s helpless to do anything but let himself sink into Steve’s comforting touch and scent.

“What’s going on?” Steve’s voice is a barely restrained growl. “Carver try shit again? You know you don’t have to worry-”

Eddie shakes his head. His stomach feels like it’s trying to crawl its way out of his throat. “It’s not Carver.”

Steve’s brow furrows.

“But then, what- … Are you sick?” He leans in, nosing the hollow of Eddie’s neck. “Your scent’s a bit off. Should I call a doctor, or-”

“Will you fucking leave it?” Eddie slaps Steve's hands away. The cap hits the mattress with a soft thud. “I'm not sick! Jesus!”

Steve's eyes are full of hurt confusion and worry. It makes Eddie want to laugh and cry and scream all at once.

“But I don't-” Steve stammers. “Why won't you-”

“Because I'm pregnant, okay?”

Steve's words screech to a halt. His eyes grow large, mouth forming a dumb little oh shape. It would be funny, Eddie thinks hysterically, if there was anything remotely funny about this entire clusterfuck of a situation.

“Wha-” Steve starts to say. Shuts his mouth. Opens it again. “I mean how- … I mean … are you sure?”

Like a line from some cliché soap opera. Eddie laughs weakly.

“Been puking my guts out all week. Took five tests, all positive. I'm pretty fucking sure, big boy.”

Silence seeps into the room. For a moment, Eddie thinks Steve's going to continue right on with the soap opera shit and ask when it happened. If it’s his. But Steve knows Eddie has never been with anyone else. Knows they've always been careful - except for that very first time.

Eddie screws his eyes shut and waits.

“Wow,” Steve breathes after an eternity. “That’s … that’s unbelievable.”

Eddie furrows his brow. Steve’s voice is brimming with incredulity, but also with something else. Something that, if Eddie didn’t know any better, he’d put close to … happiness? Hesitantly, he peeps one eye open.

He’s just in time to see Steve launch himself at him, and then he’s enveloped in a bone-crushing hug. Steve’s scent crests over him, heady and familiar.

“W-wait,” Eddie manages to mumble against the rapid staccato of Steve’s heartbeat. “You’re not mad?”

“Mad?” Steve pulls back just enough to look at him. His smile is so wide, Eddie’s afraid his face might be too small for it. “Why would I be mad? You know I want kids, loads of them!”

“Well yeah,” Eddie stammers. The room is spinning and all he can see is Steve’s smile. “But-”

“And you know I can’t imagine a better person to have them with than you.”

“Well …” Eddie can practically feel himself flush. “I guess.”

Steve leans in to kiss his forehead. “Then why are you so upset, dumbass?”

“Well, I dunno,” Eddie blurts, unable to keep the sarcastic undertone at bay. “Maybe cause I’m barely out of school? Or because we’re not even mated? Because your parents will go absolutely fucking-”

“Fuck my parents,” Steve declares. “This is about you and me. We’ll figure it out one step at a time. First, and most importantly: Do you want to have this kid with me?”

One large hand finds Eddie’s stomach, splaying itself over it, warm and safe. Eddie feels how something inside of him goes soft.

“Yes,” he whispers. “Yes, I’d love that.”

“Brilliant,” Steve beams, and kisses him. Eddie melts into it, but just as he’s about to lose himself in that summer forest scent, Steve pulls away. Eddie frowns as something is placed on his head - the stupid cap.

“And second,” Steve winks, giving his stomach one last gentle pat, “You gotta put on that gown and let me drive you to school. The two of you need to walk in half an hour.”

Poor Steve brought beer for the celebration. He'll need to drink it all by himself, whelp.

They're baaack, and they're having a baby!!! I said I'd write more of these two sooner rather than later, didn't I?

[criminalmindswhore]

All My Love

Emily breaks the heart of a granola girl during one of her assignments. Then she gets famous and writes a song about her

Stealing Noah's song for this idc, I got inspired listening to it today. this shit is long ass hell you better come with a plate, although idk if i cooked. this might be confusing to follow, hey who's to say?

word count: 2.4 K

a clusterfuck of angst and fluff

The cold bit her immediately, and Emily pulled her jacket tighter as she waited for her taxi outside the Burlington Airport. Somehow, Vermont was colder than D.C., and her fingers ached for warmth. The roads were covered in ice, so the taxi took forever, and he clocked her "official-ness" as soon as she opened her mouth. Which led to a slew of questions she didn't want to get into. She fell into her short-term apartment and loathed Vermont before her shoes came off.

She comforted herself in the shower with boiling hot water and the reminder that it was only for a year. She was here to work the field office and then move on. The cold tiles reminded her why she was already pissed.

To add to her reasons to despise Vermont, her rental car was an hour late the next morning, making her late for work. The field office smelled of cedar, both real and fake, overwhelming her senses. The director of the office was kind and shook her hand like he believed she could handle the job, which helped. She started the paperwork with ease and slid into a comfortable pattern over the next week.

Then she ached with boredom, and it turned out that seeing only the grocery store, office, home, and roads wasn't enough stimulation for a trained spy. The field work was minimal; there weren't enough people to cause national security threats. One Saturday, she had enough and finally found the closest bar to her, navigating the ice and smiling when the place smelled awful. Beer, BO, and fried foods were the signs of a place where she could exist for stimulation without being forced to interact with anyone. She found a comfortable stool against a wall and ordered a beer and a basket of fries. Barely watching the news on the TV and eavesdropping on strangers' conversations, she barely noticed the woman slipping into the stool beside her. That was until her elbow bumped Emily's, "Sorry," You quickly threw out before ordering a beer.

Her gaze fell on you, fry in hand, she took in your Blundstones, the North Face laying on your lap, and the Pura Vida bracelets adorning your wrist. That, paired with the leaf tattoo on your finger, told her everything she needed to know. Emily looked back at her fries, fighting off the urge to verify her assumptions about you, that was until you spoke up, "You are so not from around here." She found your eyes taking in her own appearance. She laughed once, something guarded, "and you are the most Vermont person I've ever seen." Your eyes squinted as you chuckled, "Fair, but you might want to invest in non-leather boots, those won't survive the salt every day." You casually sipped your beer, that being the end of the conversation.

Until the bartender slipped you your bill and you looked at her, "When did you get here?" Emily set her empty glass down. "Last week." You smiled, "Then this is on me, consider it a welcome gift from a stranger." Before she could stop you, the bartender had already run your card for both tabs. You signed the receipt with a smug smile and stood up, "Have a good night, transplant." Emily stood behind you, yanking her coat off the back of the stool, suddenly feeling invested in you, "I don't even get to know your name?" You opened the door and stepped outside, looking back at her, a hesitant look on your face. Emily just looked at you like she deserved to know the name of the person who bought her fries and bad beer, then tried to run away into the night. "Fine," you extended a hand to her, "Y/n." Emily took it with a smug smile. "Emily."

The next weekend, Emily spotted you in the grocery store and felt only slightly embarrassed when you approached her loudly exclaiming her name. Maybe a familiar face wasn't an awful idea. Standing beside you in the poultry section, the fridge lights making her cheekbones pop. You hated yourself for how your eyes ran over them as she spoke, "Here I was thinking I wouldn't ever see the nice stranger again." You wrangled her phone number from her, convincing her she might need the local mind for something.

You hated transplants, but something about her was different. Her smile shone differently. Emily hated Vermont, but you had this magnetic energy to her. You were one of the many granola girls in this town, but you meant it, and she could tell. It didn't help that you smiled at her like she was worth knowing.

It ended poorly on Emily's part. The year came to an end, and she couldn't bear the idea of staying in Vermont another day, D.C. calling her home. She could smell the blossoming trees outside the Capitol when she walked through the floral section of the grocery store. Picking out the flowers that said "I'm sorry for leaving you" best. She got back in her rental car and sighed, "I hate Vermont."

Emily was able to ignore the singer from the north for nearly 10 years before the song in the restaurant made the late summer brunch with the girls feel like she was standing in Vermont's cold. Her body went rigid, and her hands froze, stopping mid-sentence. Penelope looked at her concerned, "What just happened?" JJ shrugged, "She was just fine, Emily?" She swallowed, eyes darting to the speaker like it offended her. JJ's gaze followed, "The song? It's been blowing up lately, some girl in Vermont." Emily's hand dropped her fork and knife, a shiver running over her. Penelope looked at her with sudden curiosity. "Emily, weren't you stationed in Vermont before the BAU?"

She could've died in that moment, but instead she slid JJ two 20-dollar bills and nearly ran from the restaurant. Her car door slammed shut as she opened YouTube, furiously typing your name. There you were with a 2 million subscribers, holy shit. When she left you behind, you were hitting a thousand. Remembering the chorus she had heard before darting away, she took a guess at the song.

The lyrics hit her in the chest, each line pulling her back into a different whirlwind of emotions.

How have things been? Well, love, now that you mention it My folks still talk, they speak in these two-words sentences I'm sayin' too much but you know how it gets out here No winter coat could keep out all the cold of your atmosphere

We once sang Retrograde, we'd shake the frame of your car Now I know your name, but not who you are

You had had enough of Emily keeping you at arm's length, never letting you in fully. Despite the nights shared on mountain tops, sharing secrets, you never got fully let in. It drove you wild; she would tell you her secrets, but not how she felt. Not who she truly was, you could feel it. Knuckles rapped at the apartment door, and she opened it in her PJs, "Y/n, hi." Her tone was soft and warm as you pushed past her, stopping with your back to her. "Y/n?" She asked, worried.

You exhaled and turned to her, "I know I talk a lot, I have a tendency to overshare, but sometimes I wish you would at least try to do the same." She looked confused, which made you take a sharp breath. "My parents might be getting a divorce. Will you tell me something you're currently going through now? Not a past struggle, Emily, please just tell me something you're actively working through, let me in, please." Emily's breath hitched. This wasn't short-term behavior.

"Y/n, you don't have to do this." You stepped towards her, "Yes, I do. I can see you carrying the weight of something every day, and I wish you would let me help carry it." Her chest clutched, a pained breath escaping from her, "Y/n, I'm okay." You let out a defeated sigh, "Emily, please, let me know you." Your hand reached for her hip, a pained whimper leaving her. It was safer for her to pretend after Doyle, act like she was fully in. He fell for it. Why weren't you?

It's all okay There ain't a drop of bad blood, it's all my love

You got all my love while I'm still out here With the pills and the dogs, if you need me, dear I'm the same as I was, it's all okay There ain't a drop of bad blood, it's all my love You got all my love

Emily's eyes snapped open, and a ragged breath forced itself from her lungs, her hands clutching her phone. She called herself delusional until the next verse.

Write me a list of how it is, of how it was, of how it has to be You burrowed in under my skin, what I'd give to have you out for me I still recall how the leather in your car feels And at the end of it all, I just hope that your scars healed

After the argument in her apartment, Emily did what she did best. Make a list, well, two. One about Emily before she survived Interpol and one about Emily now. She titled them, "how it was", "how it is". She wrote out bullet points about life events, fun facts, and interests, proudly presenting the list to you. She sat in the driver's seat in her rental car, the leather burning her thighs under the summer sun. Your eyes scanned it slowly, a smile building on your face. "Emily, this is," a chuckle, "this is your way of doing what I said I needed from you," you looked at her, "Thank you for hearing me, it's perfect." Emily's heart hammered in her chest less from fear but something new, something developing.

You read further, your brow furrowing, "Wait, you served overseas?" She nodded, "Yeah, I can't tell you much, but it's what I'm currently, actively working through." Your head snapped to her, eyes misty, and she wearily met your gaze. "Emily," the space loaded. She swallowed, "I don't expect you to be able to carry much because it's so under lock and key but it's hard for me to let you in because of that." She paused, "and my mother but that's less relevant for current Emily." You smiled at her with pride, "Thank you letting me in Em."

Emily couldn't help what came next; her hand slipped across the console to grip yours, "I love you." The words jarring her as she heard them, realizing she had said them. Your mouth fell open slightly, processing before you gripped her hand tighter, dropping the paper, "I love you, too." She let out a relieved breath, but something in her screamed to run. She would have to in 6 months anyways.

You didn't give her the chance to spiral because your lips pressed against hers softly, clearing her mind of anything but you. "Is that where you got those badass, sexy scars from?" A smirk on your face, and Emily laughed at your attempt to help.

Well, I leaned in for a kiss thirty feet from where your parents slept And I look so confident, babe, I swear, I was scared to death My hands gripped the wheel, I smiled stupid the whole way home Well, those five words in my head, you said, "I'll never let you go"

Emily closed her eyes and leaned against the car window, her phone slipping into her lap as she wrapped her arms around her shoulders. The memory of her parents making a surprise visit for Christmas pained her to this day. It was way closer than she ever intended for you to get, despite how much she loved you.

The two of you were enjoying a quiet Christmas Eve on her couch, not able to tell where she started and you ended. Whispered jokes and sweet nothings filled the space until an abrupt knock took it over. Emily walked to the door, concerned, and nearly yelped when she looked through the peephole. A quick, quiet sentence to you was the last you saw of the real Emily: "They don't know I'm gay."

Once her parents were asleep in her room, she found you in the hallway, coat over your arms. She sighed and looked at the ground, "I'm sorry, Y/n, I wanted to be with you tonight." You grabbed the hem of her shirt innocently, "It's okay, I know you didn't want them here either." She smiled, "Very true." Her arms wrapped around you, finally relaxing as your scent overtook her.

She knew her time in Vermont was coming to a close in a few weeks, and she held you tighter, "I'll never let you go, Em." Her heart sank, and she burrowed into your neck, "I love you." Your heart soared, missing the sadness hiding under her voice, "You've got all my love, transplant."

There ain't a drop of bad blood, it's all my love You got all my love

As the last chorus played, a tear slipped down her cheek, and she quickly wiped it. Fuck. She fucking hated Vermont. A text from Garcia snapped her from it, and she opened it. A phone number sat there, staring at her with no explanation. She didn't need it, she knew whose it was. Emily swallowed, and she hit call, taking a calming breath before putting it to her ear. "Hello?" Your voice sent her heart rate sky high again, "Hi stranger."

You dropped the pen you had in your hand and spun around in your chair. The task at hand loomed behind you as Emily Prentiss spoke from your phone. "Transplant?" Your breath hitched, and you almost saw stars. Emily didn't know what to say, so something just came out: "All your love?" The words felt like a punch from her mouth, the song pouring from your own countless times.

Despite it being for her, her knowing it was about her felt like you were caught with your hand in a cookie jar. Your cheeks turned red, and you shrank in your seat. "Um- so you heard the song?" A laugh, "Yeah, I did." Her voice was thick, "You didn't answer my question."

Fucking FBI agents, "Yes, still somehow, you in DC?"

"Where else would I be?"

A single breathy laugh, "I'm on the way."

Not proofread because I dont wanna

[ask-the-rag-dolly]

I've been gone for like 2 months and I just came back only to find Mod Bee shaming/scolding/guilt tripping anons for who knows what, Raggedy Ann is here somehow, Ragatha's mental health got even worse somehow, and Caine is sort of just there? Huh?? Especially confused with whatever's going on rn. What did the anons do? Man, I'm months behind in terms of lore. I'm gonna need a TLDR-

welcome to phase 2 it'll be more of a clusterfuck than phase 1 . i kind of recommend reading from the beginning but if you still want a bad summary : caine was about to anti-virus ragatha but she escapes through an exit door , caine chases after her and loses his powers , the exit door turns out to take from the person's memories including traumatic ones . the anons try to make ragatha face her trauma Too early which makes her feel worse .

i was more amused than anything tbh but oh well people thought they were helping so i might as well give out pointers on what would Actually help her because apparently i cannot ever pass up the opportunity to educate people about trauma and how it affects a person

[estellan0vella]

Love In Print│Bang Chan

Chapter Twenty Six: Take That Back SS: 0 (ignore time stamps and dates) Word Count: 2K Content Warnings:

Previous Next Masterlist

Ayame, flanked by her chaotic but loyal entourage, walks toward the meeting room with her heart hammering in her chest. Minho is muttering something under his breath, possibly a prayer or a curse directed at Haechul but Ayame can't focus on anything except the sound of her heels hitting the floor. Jisung bounces alongside her, vibrating with nervous energy.

"Maknae, you've got this," Minho says firmly, his hand giving her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Remember, if anyone tries to say otherwise, I'll throw a chair through the window."

"Don't think I won't help him," Hyunjin chimes in, flipping his hair dramatically as he adjusts the popcorn bag tucked into his arm.

They step into the meeting room, and Ayame's breath catches. Chan is already there, shaking hands with the board members. He stands tall, his expression unreadable but somehow calm, like he's been waiting for this moment.

Ms. Seo turns toward Ayame, her warm smile lighting up the otherwise sterile atmosphere. "Ah, Ayame. Perfect timing. We were just about to come find you."

Ayame swallows hard, her eyes darting to Chan. His gaze locks onto hers, steady and unflinching. She musters a smile, determined to stay composed. "Congratulations," she says, her voice steady but distant. It feels like a protective shield.

Chan steps forward, his hands clasped in front of him, his voice carrying a surprising gentleness. "Well, we've all had a big decision to make today. This merger hasn't been easy, hell, it's been a clusterfuck from the start, but it's also shown us what this company is capable of."

Ayame braces herself for the final blow, but then he looks directly at her, his expression softening. "And I know firsthand that no one is more tenacious, smarter, or better suited to lead this company than its new managing director, Lim Ayame. Congratulations, Ayame."

The words hang in the air for a beat before the room erupts. Hyunjin practically shouts, "I fucking knew it!" as he grabs Minho in a bear hug. Jisung yells, "Let's fucking go!" like they're at a concert. Seungmin nods stoically, muttering, "About damn time."

Ayame blinks, her brain struggling to process what she just heard. "Wait, what?" she manages to say, her voice barely audible over the chaos.

Chan steps closer, his smile faint but genuine. "I took a job as acquisitions editor at Yeonjun's editing company."

Her jaw drops. "So when you said you didn't need help beating me..."

He nods, his smile growing. "I'd already decided to resign."

Ayame's eyes narrow as her confusion gives way to indignation. "Why the hell didn't you tell me?"

Nari steps forward, raising her hand like a kid caught sneaking candy. "That would be my fault," she admits. "I told him not to. Fighting with Chan pushed you to be your best, Ayame. You've always been brilliant, but that fire? You needed it to burn this bright."

Minho smirks, popping a piece of popcorn into his mouth. "Not that it mattered. She would've wiped the floor with you anyway, Bang."

Chan laughs softly, shaking his head as he turns back to Ayame. "This company wouldn't survive without you. Everyone knows that."

Before Ayame can respond, Haechul's grating voice cuts through from the doorway. "Just what we need, more heart and soul. Let me guess: the next initiative is a fucking bake sale."

Chan's jaw tightens, and he turns slowly. "Haechul, shut the fuck up. Honestly, just make it a rule: don't speak. Ever."

The room erupts in laughter and scattered applause. Nari claps loudly, grinning. "That's my favourite sentence of the day!"

Haechul's face turns an alarming shade of red. He jabs a finger in Chan's direction. "You're fired!"

Chan leans casually against the table, arms crossed. "I already quit, you useless dick."

As Haechul storms out, Jisung cups his hands around his mouth and yells, "Bye, bye, now!" Minho nearly chokes on his popcorn, while Hyunjin collapses against Seungmin, laughing so hard he's practically crying.

Ayame exhales sharply, her chest feeling lighter for the first time in weeks. She turns to Chan, who's watching her with a look she can't quite decipher. Some mix of pride, admiration, and something deeper.

"You know what I just realized?" she says, stepping closer to him.

"What's that?" he asks, his voice lower now, his eyes never leaving hers.

"You're the nice guy," Ayame says, her lips quirking into a sly smile.

Chan's expression shifts to mock offence. "Take that back."

"No," she says firmly, grabbing the lapels of his blazer and pulling him down into a kiss. The room explodes in cheers and applause, but Ayame doesn't care. The world narrows to just the two of them, the rest fading into background noise.

"Nice guy," she murmurs against his lips.

"Troublemaker," he replies, grinning before kissing her again.

The city buzzes faintly in the background as Ayame and Chan step out of the office building into the crisp winter air. Ayame tucks her arm through his, leaning against him slightly as they navigate the snow-covered sidewalk. Her grin is mischievous, her cheeks flushed pink from the cold.

"So," she begins, tilting her head to look up at him. "You, Changbin, Jisung, and Jeongin absolutely have to come to the shisha bar with us. It's not just any bar, it's sacred ground."

Chan smirks, his breath fogging in the cold air. "The same shisha bar where you went on your fake date with Seonghwa?"

Ayame groans, rolling her eyes. "Yes, that shisha bar. It's tradition. No shitting on the tradition, Bang Chan."

Minho, catching up with the group, slides between them and throws an arm over Ayame's shoulder. "She's right. That bar has seen all of our most embarrassing moments. It's basically a diary, except it's sticky and smells like apple-flavored smoke."

Hyunjin struts past them, his long coat swaying behind him as he leans into Changbin, whispering something into his ear that turns the man beet red. Changbin stammers out a response, clearly flustered, while Hyunjin just smirks smugly.

Jisung trails behind, keeping pace with Minho as he nods toward every snowbank. "Look at that one. That one's a solid 8/10. Very picturesque."

Minho raises a brow. "8/10? That snowbank is a fucking masterpiece. Look at that curve. That's art."

Seungmin and Jeongin bring up the rear, holding hands like they're starring in a winter romance movie. Their matching scarves flutter slightly in the breeze, drawing coos of admiration from Hyunjin when he notices.

As the group walks, Jisung suddenly clears his throat, speeding up slightly to walk next to Chan. "Hey, uh, Chan."

Chan glances sideways at his friend, curious. "Yeah?"

Jisung scratches the back of his neck, looking uncharacteristically sheepish. "I just wanted to say sorry. For all the shit I said in the group chat. I genuinely thought you were a world-class dick."

Chan raises a brow, suppressing a grin. "And now?"

"Now I think you're, like, mid-level dick. But in a cool way, so you're back to normal Chan," Jisung says quickly, before correcting himself. "Okay, okay, fine. You're not a dick. You're just intense."

Chan chuckles, shaking his head. "Water under the bridge, man. And I am intense."

"Still," Jisung adds, his voice lowering. "I might've gone overboard with the 'burn in hell, you manipulative bastard' part."

Minho spins around dramatically, throwing his hands up. "No apologizing!" he yells. "Tonight is about unity! Unity through excessive alcohol consumption and poor life choices!"

Hyunjin lifts his arm triumphantly. "Let's show these Miroh trolls how Levanter gets fucked up!"

Ayame whoops in agreement, tugging on Chan's arm to quicken their pace. "Come on, old man. You need to witness messy drunk Ayame in action."

Chan's laugh is warm, a low rumble that sends a shiver down her spine. "Old man? Who do you think is carrying your drunk ass home later?"

She grins, feigning innocence. "Oh, you wish you could handle me."

Seungmin snickers, muttering to Jeongin, "She's not wrong. Chan's gonna regret this."

Hyunjin nods solemnly. "He has no idea what he's in for."

Minho points dramatically at the street ahead. "To the shisha bar! Let chaos reign!"

As the group makes their way through the snow-dusted streets, Ayame can't help but glance up at Chan again, her smirk softening into something more genuine. "Thanks for putting up with all of this," she says quietly.

Chan looks down at her, his eyes warm and amused. "Wouldn't miss it for the world, shortcake."

The bar's dim lighting casts a soft glow on the familiar scene, shisha clouds curling lazily in the air. Ayame takes a deep breath, the scent of watermelon and mint mingling with the tang of cheap vodka and beer. It's comforting, like slipping into an old pair of shoes, slightly sticky but reliable. The bartender's wave feels like a nod from an old friend, and she raises her hand in acknowledgement as they step further inside.

Minho comes to an abrupt halt in the middle of the room, his eyes locking onto something, or rather, someone, at the bar. He nudges Ayame sharply. "Aya, look. Seven o'clock."

Ayame squints, following his line of sight until her gaze lands on him. Discount Chan. Chris. Nursing a whiskey like a broody rom-com protagonist. Her stomach drops, but the corner of her mouth quirks up in disbelief.

"Oh, you have got to be kidding me," she mutters.

Chan follows her gaze and the moment his eyes land on Chris, he loses it. His laughter bursts out so suddenly and loudly that a few heads turn.

"No fucking way!" Chan gasps between laughs, clutching his side as he bends forward slightly. "Is that-? Oh my god! Is that him? My off-brand version? The Budget Bang?"

Chris turns at the commotion, his brows knitting together when he sees Ayame with Chan. His eyes flick between the two, his confusion palpable. "Whoa," Chris says, his voice slow and cautious. "You look just like me."

Chan straightens, still grinning ear-to-ear. "Oh, absolutely not. Look at my shoulders. Way better than yours."

"And his ass is better," Minho chimes in, sliding up beside them like a cat waiting to pounce. His smirk is lethal. "And his dick. I've seen both. From both of you. Because both of you have defiled my sweet baby Maknae Ayame on separate occasions."

Ayame nearly chokes, covering her face with her hands as her laughter bubbles out uncontrollably. Chan looks smug as hell, pulling Ayame closer by the waist, his grin widening.

Jeongin steps up, looking utterly baffled. "Okay, me, Changbin and Jisung, we need context. What the fuck is happening?"

Seungmin doesn't miss a beat, his tone flat and devastatingly direct. "Ayame hooked up with that guy," he points at Chris, "to avoid dealing with her feelings for Chan."

Jisung's jaw drops. "Wait, hold up. You're telling me she fucked his doppelganger?"

"Multiple times," Minho says, raising a finger for emphasis. "She fucked him multiple times. And regretted it the second she woke up and found out that he was in her bed."

Changbin looks scandalized, his brows furrowing. "That's so messy."

Hyunjin sighs dramatically, tossing his hair over his shoulder. "Our Maknae is always messy. It's her charm."

"True," Minho agrees. "But we love her anyway."

The bartender interrupts, shouting across the room, "Usuals?"

Minho strides to the counter, slamming his hand down like a man closing a deal. "Top shelf. We're celebrating, so make it strong. Also, four shishas: watermelon, mint, blueberry, and Ayame, what do you and your real Chan want?"

"Strawberry," Ayame replies without hesitation.

Chan smirks approvingly, his hand ghosting over her lower back. "Good choice."

As the bartender sets up, Chan leans down, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. His voice is low, teasing. "So, that's my competition?"

Ayame looks up at him, her smirk sharp. "Trust me, I've had sex with both of you. You outrank him by miles."

Chan's smirk turns into a grin, his dimple flashing as he presses a lingering kiss to her temple. "Damn right, I do. Let's go sit before you try to hop on my knock-off again."

Ayame slaps his chest lightly, scandalized. "Chan!"

"What?" he asks, mock-innocent, as he guides her to a booth. "I'm just saying. You've got the real thing now."

Chris glares at them from across the bar, muttering something inaudible as Minho orders shots for the entire group. Jisung leans over, squinting at Chris, and says with an air of authority, "Honestly, it's eerie how similar you two are. But yeah, Chan's shoulders are way better."

Hyunjin raises his glass dramatically. "To Ayame's taste in men: consistently questionable."

"Cheers!" the group shouts in unison, the chaotic energy of the night kicking into high gear.

Taglist: @fackeraccount @ot8girlfie @nightmarenyxx @reimaybeidk

@ismelllikechlorine247 @drewsandsebastianswife @my-neurodivergent-world @rhonnie23 @hanji-coffee

@skzleeknowcore

@idiotmaterial @yoongiismylove2018

[justlightlysedated]

five times eddie rebuffs someone's advances by saying he's straight/gay and one time he doesn't have to

dedicated to @frankchurchillsaysrelax for being my cheerleader, love you 🖤

Read on [AO3]

one.

Eddie didn't want to be at this bar. It had been a couple of weeks after Chris had left with his parents and the last thing that Eddie had wanted to do was go to a bar after work, but Buck had suggested it, and Chimney had jumped on it and Hen had ushered him into her passenger seat, since he'd driven in with Buck that morning.

Fortunately she doesn't use the moment to talk about the fact that they're both missing children, but rants about their last call and how their new Captain was becoming a liability in the field, by not trusting their judgements.

By the time they make it to the bar, Buck is holding down a booth while Chim gets the first round.

While Hen goes to help Chim, Eddie slides into the booth next to Buck, and jostles him with his elbow, interrupting whatever he'd been doing on his phone, which was making him furrow his brow in confusion. 

Buck looks at him, raising his eyebrows pointedly and Eddie just shakes his head, raising one eyebrow in return, which makes Buck shrug and put his phone away just in time for Chimney and Hen to come back.

It's after the fourth round, when Buck has managed to convince Hen to play a game of pool with him, and Chimney has gone to the bathroom, that Eddie is sitting alone at the table, trying not to look through his recent messages and despair at how far down Christopher's messages have gotten in the list.

He's interrupted by someone sitting down across from him. Eddie looks up, mouth open to talk, when he realizes that it's not one of his friends.

The woman looks to be maybe a couple of years younger than him, and several glasses of alcohol more drunk than he is. She's got hazy blue eyes and long brown hair that spills down her shoulders as she leans forward suggestively. 

Eddie feels the dread settle in his chest before she even opens her mouth.

He'd been hoping that maybe she just wanted to rest a little bit before rejoining whoever she was here with, but a brief look around the bar revealed a group of giggling girls who were trying very hard to seem like they weren't looking over at them, one of them was wearing a bride to be sash and a crown.

"Hey," she says, prolonging the vowel. "Just saw you sitting here all by yourself, want some company?"

She grins at him, like she's proud of herself for not slurring any of her words. She's looking at him, like no one ever tells her no, and she thinks charming enough to flirt herself into a yes.

But Eddie's just not interested. Even without the clusterfuck his life has turned into the last couple of months, he wouldn't be interested in whatever she was offering.

"Sorry," he tells her. "But I'm not here alone."

He points towards where Chimney had joined Buck and Hen and is very obviously sabotaging all of Buck's attempts at winning. 

She turns to look over quickly, and shakes her head, "They won't miss you, if you want to spend some time with me."

She reaches out to touch the back of his hand, and Eddie immediately drops his hands to his lap, leaning back in his seat to put as much distance between them as he can without getting up to leave.

She's drunk enough to make a face that he's pretty sure she doesn't mean him to see, and is also visibly rallying herself for another try.

"They won't miss me, since I'm not interested in spending any time with you," Eddie says before she can speak, much more bluntly than he usually would.

She furrows her brow as she frowns at him, tilting her head to the side. "Are you gay?"

Eddie snorts and says sarcastically, "Yes, exactly. Being gay is the only reason a man wouldn't be interested in what you're offering."

She scoffs and immediately gets to her feet. "What a waste," she mutters as she walks away, loud for Eddie to hear it.

Eddie rolls his eyes, and promptly forgets all about the interaction when Buck drops down in the seat she'd just vacated, pouting because he'd lost the game to Hen.

Eddie grins at him, and Buck's starts to protest, "You weren't there. She was totally cheating."

Eddie snorts, laughing, and Buck starts to protest, pointing out all of the ways that Hen totally cheated, that segues into a conversation about the first official pool competition and how pool was known as billiards and is still called that in Europe.

Eddie just leans back, staring at Buck as he speaks, thinking he wouldn't be interested in spending time with anyone else.

two.

This time it's not that Eddie doesn't want to be at the bar. He was the one who had suggested to go and make it a group thing when Buck had sighed that Tommy would be too busy working to check out a new lgbt+ bar that had just opened up. 

Well, actually it is exactly like Eddie doesn't want to be at this bar, but the way that Buck had smiled and looked excited when Eddie had made his suggestion was more than enough of a prize for Eddie to put up with being in a crowded bar when he'd prefer to be locked in his room by himself.

He's at the bar by himself, waiting for the bartender while keeping an eye on everyone. Chimney and Maddie had already gone back home, while Karen and Hen were in the middle of the dance floor finishing dancing to the song while Eddie got their drinks, with Buck who was bouncing from partner to partner, dancing like a white boy with no rhythm at all, and somehow charming every single person who was in his orbit.

Even Eddie can't help the smile on his face as he sees Buck bumping into a group of girls and immediately becoming friends.

"Can I h-elp you?" Eddie hears from behind him, and turns around while the person is speaking, which makes them pause mid word before continuing.

Eddie is still smiling as he replies, "Yes, can I get another round on the Buckley tab?"

The bartender looks too young to actually be manning the bar, but he could possibly just have a baby face. His hair is dyed a purple dark enough to look black when he's not under a direct source of light, and his eyes are too big for his face, open wide as he looks at Eddie like he's never seen another person before.

The bartender blinks a couple of times, before he grins, boyishly charming, "Right away."

He doesn't go for the beers and cocktails they've been drinking, but pours Eddie a shot of a mix that looks bright and green and then leaves it in front of Eddie, winking as he says, "Free of charge."

Eddie is at that point of the night where he won't say no to alcohol, so he grabs the shot and downs it without further thought. It was sweet and sour and tasted overwhelmingly of apple. He must make a face because the bartender laughs as he fixes the drinks for Eddie's table on a tray. There is a pitcher of beer, three pint glasses stacked together, two margaritas and four shots of tequila that weren't a part of the original order.

He pours Eddie another green shot, and one for himself, and Eddie takes it again, without question, knocking their glasses together and throwing it back.

The bartender's eyes are on his throat when he sets his shot down, and Eddie tries hard not to frown.

Eddie moves forward a little to pull the tray closer to himself to take back to their table, when the bartender also leans in so they are much closer than before. 

"I get off in about two hours if you wanna stick around. I promise I can show you a good time." 

He's looking at Eddie from beneath heavy lids, and his lips are quirked in a one sided smirk. He looks confident that he knows what Eddie's answer is going to be, and Eddie would like to know what it is about him specifically that makes people think that he'd be interested in anything they have to offer.

"I'm flattered," Eddie says, because oddly enough he kind of is, but he's not going to look into that too deeply. "But I'm very straight."

The bartender gives him a look, like he doesn't believe what Eddie is saying, looking around the bar obviously like he's questioning why else would Eddie be here.

Eddie doesn't rise to the obvious bait, "I am an ally. Not that it's any of your business."

Eddie grabs the tray and leaves before anything else can be said. He almost bumps into Hen since he wasn't watching where he was going.

She gives him a look, and Eddie rolls his eyes. She sighs and grabs one of the shots from the tray and starts leading the way back to their table where Karen was already sitting, waiting, "Can't take you anywhere."

Eddie just snorts, "It's not like I go asking for the attention."

Hen shakes her head, "Nah, you're just too pretty."

Eddie was about to protest when there was an arm slung across his shoulders, and Buck's loud voice too close to his ear. "The prettiest," he says, agreeing with Hen. "I see the pretty privilege of getting free shots also works in gay bars, good to know."

Eddie rolls his eyes once again, but doesn't say anything, hoping his cheeks aren't as pink as they feel.

three.

Eddie is too busy doing his job to actually notice that his patient is trying to flirt with him, at least until she asks him if he wants her  number.

Eddie blinks at her confused, and then shakes his head, "That's not really appropriate."

She giggles at his response, like she can't help it, "It's not like I'm expecting a call right now."

Eddie shakes his head, "I don't date people I meet on calls."

She pouts at that, "Well, we don't have to date immediately. We can get to know each other first."

"I'm not interested," Eddie tries, moving to put more space between them, looking around for someone else to help, since she's obviously feeling better, if she's trying this hard to get his number.

She tilts her head at him, "Are you ace or something?"

Eddie is confused by what she's asking him, but it makes him think about how the last time a woman hit on him, he'd let her assume he was gay and it had made her go away, "I'm gay."

Her eyes widen a little bit, but she doesn't get upset or anything. She smiles at him, "Well, can I still get your number? My brother is bi and we definitely have the same taste in men."

Eddie feels like he's at an impasse, and isn't quite sure what to do when Buck appears out of nowhere, sliding an arm around Eddie's shoulders as he leans heavily against him.

He says something that Eddie doesn't quite catch since his heart starts pounding and his patient gives him a knowing look.

"Oh, I see," she says, and then winks at Eddie before turning around and leaving. Eddie doesn't stop her, not wanting to prolong the interaction. She had already been outside of the building when they'd gotten there, and had only a small cut on her brow. Eddie had checked for a concussion, and to make sure she hadn't inhaled any smoke.

"What was that about?" Buck asks, letting his arm fall from Eddie's shoulders and turning to face Eddie, a confused look on his face.

"Well, she wasn't taking no for an answer, and put two and two together when you came over."

Buck still looks confused. Eddie raises his eyebrows pointedly, and waits until Buck gets what he means.

"Oh," he says, and again. "Oh! I can go clear up the-"

He turns like he's actually going to seek her out, and Eddie reaches out and stops him before he can get too far.

"No," Eddie says firmly. "It was what I wanted."

Buck furrows his brow again, "You wanted her to think we were together?"

Eddie snorts, "I wanted her to think that I was gay. Since that's what I told her."

Buck is even more confused, "But you're not gay."

Eddie is, of course, going to say, of course not, but the words stay stuck in his throat, and the pause is long enough that Buck's confusion starts turning into a slight alarm.

Bobby's voice sounds out, calling them. Eddie just slaps Buck on the arm and runs towards where Bobby's voice is coming from, knowing that Buck is going to bring this conversation back up when Eddie least expects it.

four.

Eddie isn't technically avoiding anyone. Ever since a priest told him to let himself feel joy, Eddie has been indulging in things he'd otherwise reject. Like the truly expensive Mexican hot chocolate cappuccino that they serve in a giant mug with a design of his choosing on top at the cafe that is fifteen minutes away from the station. He'd woken up super early to be here, and to get a chance to sit and enjoy his coffee before he had to go into work.

He's about halfway done, and is contemplating getting two extra coffees to go, since he knows that Buck loves the French vanilla oat milk latte that they make (and maybe it will cheer him up enough to get rid of the literal thunder cloud hanging above his head since Tommy had broken up with him for at least a little bit), when someone drops down into the seat across from him.

Eddie looks up startled to see a handsome dark haired man with too big brown eyes who looked to be in his early twenties, and is even more shocked when they reach out to grab his hand.

Eddie goes to pull his hand back, when the man speaks up, "Please just, can you pretend to be my date. My crazy ex is right over there and he doesn't really understand boundaries."

Eddie wants to ask him why the hell that's his issue, when he looks over to see who the ex is, and sees a buff man sitting at the other side of the cafe and glowering at their table.

Eddie looks back to the guy sitting at his table and sighs, leaving his hand where it is. "If he's crossing boundaries, then maybe you should consider getting a restraining order?"

The guy gives Eddie a look, like he thinks that Eddie is adorable. "Cops don't take anything seriously unless something physical happens, and this face is much too pretty to be punched."

He grins as he finishes speaking, and Eddie really doesn't have anything to say to refute that actually.

"So you think my face is just ugly enough to be punched?" Eddie asks even though he really didn't mean to.

The guy laughs, and picks up Eddie's hand to cradle it between his two, giving Eddie a knowing look that reminds him of Buck whenever he teases Eddie for having pretty privilege, "Fishing for compliments is not cute."

Eddie can't help but laugh, smiling back as he leans forward a little, "That's not what your face is saying."

The guy leans forward as well, smile turning a bit sly, "Oh yeah? What is my face saying then?"

"It's saying that you think I'm very cute."

The guy laughs again, throwing his head back and shaking his head.

Before anything else can be said, the sound of a chair screeching as it was pushed back. They both turned to see the boundaries pushing ex stalking out of the cafe and down the street.

The guy leaned back in his seat and let out a relieved breath.

"Thank you," he says and smiles, squeezing Eddie's hand and making him aware that they're still holding hands.

Eddie feels his cheeks heating up as he tugs his hand away as gently as he could.

"You're welcome," he replies and grabs his mug to try and finish the rest of his coffee as fast as he can.

"My name is Evan by the way," he says, and Eddie just barely stops himself from choking on his drink, coughing a little as he sets the mug down and grabs his napkin to wipe his mouth.

Evan's smile dims a little bit, but he stays smiling.

"Eddie," Eddie responds, pointing at himself, and setting his hand back down to the table.

"Well, Eddie," he says, leaning forward once again. "How about we turn this into an actual date?"

Eddie coughs again, feeling his cheeks heating up.

"While I've had fun pretending, I'm actually straight," Eddie says, and for some reason, unlike all the other times he's used this excuse, he actually feels a twinge in the pit of his stomach, like he wasn't being entirely truthful.

"Really?" Evan says, sounding a bit incredulous.

"Yeah?" Eddie responds, and this time it sounds like he's lying.

Evan raises both of his eyebrows and then shrugs a little, "Okay, but still, let me pay for your coffee as a thank you."

Eddie feels as though his entire face is red now. He blinks a little, looking down at the coffee that he's almost done with, "I already paid for this one."

Evan laughs, "Then let me buy you another one."

Eddie smiles and nods his head a little, "Fine. You can get me a French vanilla latte with oat milk to go."

Evan knocks his fist against the table, nodding his head. Eddie tries not to stare, but ends up staring anyway as he gets in line, and gets the coffee.

He leaves it on the table, sending Eddie a grin, before he leans down quickly and presses a kiss to Eddie's cheek, "Hopefully, I'll see you around."

And then he's leaving, dropping out of Eddie's life just like how he dropped into it.

Eddie just ducks his head down and finishes the rest of his coffee, feeling like the red in his cheeks is never going to go away.

He ends up giving Buck the coffee once he gets to the station, before he goes to change into his uniform.

By the time he makes it up to the loft, there is a teasing mood in the air. Eddie looks around at everyone, who is staring at him in curiosity (Chimney), amusement (Hen), and frowning (Buck).

"What?" he asks, patting his chest to make sure that he was actually wearing a shirt.

"You want me to save this for you?" Buck asks, and turns the paper cup the coffee was in to show Eddie a phone number along with the message, Just in case you change your mind.

Eddie flushes once again, but refuses to actually answer. He's actually about to invoke their collective wrath by saying the Q word, but before he can the alarm rings out. Eddie breathes out in relief, and turns back around.

five.

All Eddie wants is to decompress with his friends, finish eating his burger and then let Buck drive him home so he could pass out for the next ten hours.

So of course, that's not what happens. It's not the first time that Eddie's been hit on while he's out with everyone. It's not even the hundredth time. It is the first time that they are all there when he says, "I'm gay, and really not interested."

The woman goes fully red with embarrassment, and turns around without another word, stalking back to her seat.

Eddie exhales in relief and is about to take another bite of his burger when he looks up to see that everyone is staring at him.

"What?" he asks, letting his burger go to give them his full attention.

Chimney's eyes are still narrowed, while Hen and Buck share a look.

"You're not gay," Hen says slowly, like she's not sure if she should say it or not.

Eddie shrugs, "I tell guys I'm straight to avoid attention as well."

This time all three of them exchange glances. 

"But you are straight," this time it's Buck who speaks. "Aren't you?"

"Am I?" Eddie says, grinning when Buck's mouth falls open as he stares at Eddie incredulously.

Eddie just grins when Hen snorts and picks up his burger again.

Buck leaves it alone for the entire time that they finish eating, and even for the ride back home, but Eddie knows he's not going to leave it alone. Especially not when it's the second time in the last couple of weeks that Eddie has implied that he's not entirely straight.

So he's not surprised when Buck turns off the ignition and follows behind Eddie as he walks into his house and into the kitchen.

"Eddie," Buck says, but Eddie just pretends that he can't hear him, walking towards the fridge to get out a bottle of water. He downs about half of it before he turns to face Buck.

He still has no idea what to say actually. He's sure I don't actually know, isn't going to fly, not with Buck, who would most definitely know that there was something he did know even if it wasn't whether or not he was gay or straight.

The realization wasn't something that happened overnight. It had been slowly coming over the last couple of years, but mostly the last couple of weeks. Every time that Eddie has had to shoot someone down, or let them down gently, there is this feeling in the pit of his stomach that tells him that the reason he's giving everyone isn't the truth. And prodding at the feeling revealed one thing. 

That he was already in love with someone else. With Buck.

Eddie looks at Buck now, who looks more concerned and worried than anything else, and he knows that he's not alone in his feelings.

He figured that one out as well right after the first realization. He's not entirely sure if Buck is in love with him, but he has the feeling that if he were to push the issue, Buck wouldn't disappoint him.

"What is going on?" Buck asks after a couple of minutes of charged silence between them.

"I don't know," Eddie says almost at the same time.

Buck's confusion grows even more, "Eddie."

"I mean, I don't know the answer to your previous question."

Buck takes a second to realize what Eddie is saying, and the shock spreads across his face.

Eddie takes a step closer, and Buck moves closer as well, like they're two magnets that are getting too close to each other's magnetic pull.

"So you're-?" Buck asks in a hushed voice, leaving it open ended and staring intently like he can get the answer straight from Eddie's brain if he stares long enough.

"I don't know," Eddie says again. "I'm not really interested in figuring that out right now, though."

Buck looks like he doesn't understand what Eddie is trying to say. So Eddie keeps speaking, taking another step forward.

"I know you didn't rest until you figured out your label, and I'm happy that figuring that out made you happy, but for me, that's not what this is about."

"Then what's it about?" Buck asks, taking two steps forward so that they are less than an arm's length away.

Eddie's breathing hitches, and he hopes that Buck doesn't notice.

"I'm just not interested in casual or dating," Eddie says, voice low, not doing a good enough job of keeping the disgust out of his voice from the fond smile that starts spreading across Buck's face. "Not when I'm-"

Eddie stops speaking, the words caught in his throat. He swallows hard, eyes falling away from Buck's face to some point across his shoulder.

"Not when you're what, Eddie?"

Eddie closes his eyes and inhales deeply, letting the breath out slowly. He opens his eyes again, and inhales sharply, losing the small amount of calm he'd gathered when he notices that Buck had moved so that he was in Eddie's line of sight once again.

Looking at Buck's face, feeling the weight of his gaze right in the pit of his stomach, the seriousness in his eyes, knowing without a doubt that this conversation was something that Buck wasn't  taking lightly,  that he'd be safe no matter what he said, made it easy for the words to come out.

"Not when I'm in love with someone else."

Buck's eyes dart all over his face as his brow furrows. There is just a moment, a blink and you'll miss it moment where Eddie thinks Buck looks disappointed. But before it settles it turns into a warm expression, full of empathy.

"Shannon," he says, nodding his head, lIke it makes sense. And Eddie really can't blame him for thinking that, not with what happened just months ago.

Still he laughs a little, shaking his head as he lifts his hands to Buck's shoulders squeezing lightly, making Buck's gaze go wide and shocked.

"No, idiot," Eddie says, feeling so much fondness, and just an overwhelming amount of love. "You."

"M-" Buck starts to say, but Eddie moves even closer, and presses a kiss to Buck's cheeks, causing him to stop speaking as his breathing stutters.

"Eds," Buck breathes out, a question in his trembling tone.

Eddie just nudges his nose into Buck's cheek, and presses another kiss closer to his mouth.

"I'm in love with you," Eddie says, pressing his forehead to Buck's jaw and closing his eyes. "That's what I know."

Buck exhales slowly, shoulders dropping as he lifts his hands and presses his fingers on either side of Eddie's waist.

Eddie breathes out carefully, and tightens his eyes briefly,  before opening them and lifting his head.

Buck is looking at him, with the same look on his face he always has whenever Eddie gives him a compliment or says something that Buck was not expecting, blue eyes wide and clear and shining bright.

It makes Eddie's heart thud hard and painful in his chest, makes him lean in that much closer, eyes drifting from Buck's to his mouth.

"Eddie," Buck says, voice soft and trembling. Eddie just watches him, waiting for Buck to make up his mind one way or another.

Buck moves his hands when Eddie doesn't say anything, sliding them up Eddie's chest, making Eddie's breathing hitch when he presses careful fingers to Eddie's face, tipping his jaw just slightly. Eddie moves into the touch eagerly, pressing even closer, moving one hand to Buck's shoulder and sliding it to cradle the curve of his neck, feeling the thundering heartbeat beneath the palm of his hand.

"Eddie," Buck says again, this time sounding more steady.

Eddie still doesn't say anything.

Buck exhales once again, shaking his head a little as a smile curls the corners of his mouth, just slightly.

"I'm going to kiss you," Buck says, like he needs to be clear as to what is about to happen, even though Eddie's been sure of where this is going from the moment that Buck didn't push him away when Eddie kissed him on the cheek.

"Are you?" Eddie says, smiling.

"Yeah," Buck whispers, voice even lower.

"Then what are you waiting for?" Eddie asks, maybe sounding a bit petulant.

Which makes Buck laugh, a small puff of laughter that Eddie can feel wash across his face.

"I'm trying to build anticipation here, Edmundo."

Eddie wrinkles his nose at the use of his full name, "Well, I've been waiting, for years really, so I think anti-"

Buck kisses him mid sentence, and Eddie's entire mind goes blank, the chaste kiss washing away every single thought he's ever had. It's all replaced with this feeling, warm, slow and sweet, pouring through his entire body.

Eddie pushes closer, wrapping one arm around Buck's shoulder and the other low on his back, pushing into the kiss.

Buck slides his hands across Eddie's jaw and to the back of his neck.

Buck moves back slowly, and Eddie has to fight the urge to pull him back into another kiss.

He opens his eyes, and can't help but smile at the dumbstruck look on Buck's face, lips parted, eyes wide, cheeks rosy red.

"Oh," he breathes out, and Eddie's smile turns into a laugh and he leans forward slightly, pressing their foreheads together, and lets his eyes fall shut.

plus one.

Once again, Eddie is at a bar when he would rather be at home. This time he couldn't even convince Buck just to head straight home after work.

Chris was at a sleepover and they had a rare night to themselves that they could take advantage of, but Maddie had complained that she hadn't seen her brother to just hang out in weeks, and Chimney and Hen had also made comments on how they had secluded themselves for long enough and it was time to get over the honeymoon stage.

So here he was once again, feeling a bit more tired than usual. A feeling that wasn't helped by the three beers he'd already drunk. 

At one point he finds himself lying down on his crossed arms on the table, face turned towards Buck, eyes partly closed.

He feels the table jostle twice as someone or multiple someone's leave. Only humming in acknowledgement when Maddie says bye by ruffling his hair, in a move that she must've learned about from his sisters, when she and Chimney head out.

Eddie only realizes they are alone when Buck leans a little closer, pressing one hand high up on Eddie's thigh to get his attention.

Eddie focuses on his face, cheeks flushed with color like they always get when he's had more than three beers.

Eddie lifts his eyebrows in question.

Buck just smiles at him, as he leans back, hand sliding away from Eddie's thigh, and he lifts one of the empty bottles on the table so that Eddie can see it, shaking it a little.

Eddie lifts his head up, nodding, before propping his elbow on the bar and leaning his chin on his palm to watch as Buck gathers all of the empty bottles to one corner of the table. 

Buck looks to Eddie before he gets up from the table and reaches out to press the tips of his fingers right beneath Eddie's eye. 

"We'll go home after the next round," he says.

Eddie just smiles back and watches him as he leaves, sighing as he goes.

He knows he must look ridiculous with the sappy, love sick grin on his face, but he thinks that it's something that he's allowed, after years of denying himself the pleasure of simply looking at Buck.

Eddie is just planning on staring until Buck comes back. He loves to see the way Buck ducks his head and flutters his eyelashes when he sees that Eddie hasn't stopped looking at him. Eddie is still looking at where Buck is waiting for the bartender to get to him when someone walks into his line of sight.

It was a woman with long brown hair, wearing one of those form fitting dresses in a bright pink color that stopped at her midthigh.

Eddie blinks a little, eyes darting away, and feels someone sitting down at the table. 

He looks to the side to find a man in a sports jacket with shaggy dark hair.

He grins at Eddie, "Mind if I sit here for a bit?"

Before Eddie can respond the woman who'd been walking towards him is sitting down right beside the man. They lean into each other in a way that shows that they are well acquainted, and Eddie feels oddly like he's in the middle of a trap.

"You looked a little lonely," the woman says as she sits down. "We were wondering if you want some company."

Eddie doesn't even have to think about it. "No thanks, I'm fine."

"That you are," the man says and they both move almost like a dance. He leans back and she leans forward.

"We were actually wondering if you'd be interested in coming home with us," she says, reaching out like she's gonna touch Eddie's arm, but Eddie sits up immediately, putting himself out of reach.

"What makes you think that I would be interested in coming home with you?" Eddie asks, feeling both genuinely curious at the answer and a little bit over this whole thing.

They look at each other and then back to Eddie. "You're hot," they both answer at the same time.

Eddie sighs, rolling his eyes. He doesn't know why he was expecting any other answer.

Eddie wants to say that that's not a good enough reason, or maybe tell them that they weren't nearly interesting enough for Eddie to even think about doing a threesome.

Before he can say any of that, two beers are set down sharply on the table, the condensation from the cold glass splattering everywhere.

Eddie looks up, and just sees Buck's face, brow furrowed, mouth in a determined line, for a second before Buck is sitting down in his seat, or well mostly in his seat, while also throwing his leg over Eddie's lap. Eddie barely has time to say anything else, when Buck wraps his fingers into the open collar of his shirt and pulls him into a kiss. 

Eddie makes a muffled sound of surprise but quickly gets with the program, hooking his left arm around Buck's shoulders and pressing the fingers of his right hand to the side of Buck's face, kissing him back.

Buck presses fingers to Eddie's throat, making him gasp and he wastes no time licking into Eddie's mouth and kissing him wet and deep and filthy. The same kind of kiss he gives Eddie right after blowjobs like he's determined to lick his taste out of Eddie's mouth.

It's not a kiss that is entirely acceptable in public. Especially when Eddie drops his right hand to Buck's thigh, itching to tug him right into his lap.

Eddie forgets all about where he is and the audience they all had, world narrowed to Buck and the hot press of his mouth against Eddie's.

After a while, Eddie starts to get dizzy and it's only then when Buck pulls back. Eddie gasps raggedly, blinking his eyes open, not understanding why the kissing has stopped.

Buck laughs, low and short, right against Eddie's mouth and leans in a bit to nudge their noses together.

"I missed you," he says even though they've only been apart for less than ten minutes.

That fact doesn't stop the smile that crosses Eddie's face.

He's expecting to be kissed again, so he's not really pleased when Buck turns and speaks to someone else, dislodging Eddie's arm around his shoulders.

"You're wasting your time. He's not interested and I don't share."

He bares his teeth at them, a move that he'll probably be mortified by when he's sober tomorrow, but Eddie just finds it extremely hot.

He doesn't hear anything else as he cups the back of Buck's neck in his hands and tugs him back into another kiss. 

Eddie muffles whatever other words Buck was going to say with his lips, licking into Buck's open mouth and kissing him just as thoroughly as Buck had earlier.

Buck sinks into the kiss, wrapping his arms around Eddie, fingers digging into Eddie's back as he tugs him in closer. Eddie drags his hands into Buck's hair, tangling his fingers in his hair and digging against his scalp.

Buck moans into his mouth, and Eddie can't think of a good enough reason why it would be a bad idea to push Buck back into his seat and drop to his knees.

That is until the table is jostled, and it digs into Eddie's hip.

Eddie pulls away from Buck glaring at whoever interrupted them, only to see a completely unaffected Hen. Karen was downing one of the beers that Buck had gotten.

"Maybe you should continue this at home?"

Eddie turns back to Buck, who is still looking at him with hooded eyes, bottom lip trapped in between his teeth.

"How about that?" Eddie asks, getting Buck's attention. "Wanna go home?"

Buck swallows hard and nods his head, "Yeah, let's go home."

Eddie grins and leans back in for another kiss before getting to his feet and holding his hand out.

"Let's go."

Buck grabs his hand and gets to his feet, and then rushes them both out of the door. Eddie laughs, but lets Buck drag him wherever he wants to go.

[colbyskies]

Taste Your Love

Tom Kaulitz x male reader 3k words

Where Tom and M/n are in the hot bus all by themselves and things get a little heated

It is so hot on the tour bus, too hot. The AC broke two days ago and despite everything the band has been telling David, he won’t book any hotels. “We should save money if you want the AC fixed.” The second Tom heard those words leave his mouth, he cussed him out. Everyone is sick of David's shit but they have to put up with it if they want to keep their image. 

They always second guess his every move, wondering if thy just want to torture the five boys into doing whatever he wanted him to. He was always bitchy about the way Bill looked or the way the G’s hardly talked during interviews. Always pushing the image of Tom being a man whore. In all honesty it is annoying, but at least he is giving them a couple days off hot ass bus or not, they hardly get days off these days. Always too busy with interviews, photoshoots, or shows. But tonight is the one night they get to actually do what they want to do without their dickhead manager breathing down their necks. 

Bill, Georg, and Gustav have left Tom and M/n on the bus alone. They went partying or that’s what they told the two boys at least. All of them were confused when they turned it down but it is just too damn hot to be in a clusterfuck of people.

Both Tom and M/n sit on the couch playing video games, getting hotter by the minute. The pedestal fan in front of them only blows hot air onto their already overheating bodies.

“God.” M/n groans, pulling his black shirt from his body, the shirt practically sticking to every part of him. “How are you wearing all of that?” He directs his question towards Tom, who is wearing his clothes from earlier that day. His baggy jeans still heavy on his lower half, a large white shirt, matching his bandana and hat. M/n could see the beads of sweat from his forehead and the way his shirt stuck to his body making it tighter than any clothing M/n has ever seen on Tom.

“I don't know, I was too engrossed in the game,” Tom replies, taking off his hat and bandana letting his dreads fall to his shoulders before putting them up into a bun to keep them off his neck. He removes his shirt next, pulling off the sticky item and throwing it into the pile M/n had created on the floor in front of them. “It's too hot for any of this, I cant believe David won't get us a hotel.” Tom begins to undo the belt holding up his pants. M/n watching his every move, from the way his hand flexes as he pulls the belt loose to the way his abs move with every push of his pants off his body. “It’s bullshit. He’s an asshole.” M/n hums in response, too scared to talk when Tom is looking very alluring only in his boxers. 

He’s seen his body before since they always change in front of each other, but he’s never examined him before. The way sweat rolls from his chest and traces each muscle on his toned stomach makes him think thoughts he’s never thought about Tom before. Subconsciously, he licks his lips, flicking his tongue against his lip piercing, wanting nothing more than to feel Tom’s piercing against his own. 

“M/n?” Tom’s voice snaps him out of his trance pulling him back to the scene before him. “Whatsup?” His response is quick and slurred, something Tom doesn’t miss but ignores. 

“Staring is rude.” Tom remarks, smirking and playing with his lip piercing. M/n knows exactly what that look is, it’s a look he has given to many women, especially interviewers. If he looks at anyone that way, everyone knows exactly what he wants. 

“Sorry.” M/n turns away with a blush, picking up his remote to start the game again, ready to kick Tom's ass once more. Tom hums in response, picking up his own remote and beginning to play as well. 

“Your face is heating up, is it something I said?” Tom suddenly said, pulling M/n out of his focus. 

“No, just the heat,” M/n stutters with a smile on his face, trying to keep his eyes on Tom's face instead of trailing them across his body. Tom moves closer to him, causing his face to flush red again, they’re practically touching. Tom’s bare body is pressed against his, almost pinning him against the arm of the couch. “You can look, you know.” Fuck if Tom keeps talking to him like this he won’t be able to control the reaction is provokes. 

“I think this is unfair.” Tom mumbles causing M/n to raise his eyebrow. “This..” Tom gestures to his lack of pants and M/n who is still wearing his. “Can I?” Tom asks, hovering his hand above his belt, M/n leans back without a word allowing Tom to undo his buckle with nervous shaky hands. Tom’s never done this with a guy before, the thought hits M/n as Tom is struggling to work the button to his jeans. 

“Hey.” M/n rests his hand on Tom’s pulling it away from his pants, instead bringing his lips to the others. Brushing them slightly together and allowing Tom to take the next step if he wants to, not wanting to force his own desires onto him. Though he’s still confused by his own want for Tom. 

Tom breathes heavily before pressing his lips against the others, M/n instantly taking the lead. Holding the back of Tom’s neck with one hand while the other rested on his hip. Tom doesn’t know what to do with his hands until M/n moves them to wrap around his neck, the other quickly putting his hand into M/n’s hair. A feeling he never knew he wanted to feel until the smooth hair is in his palm. 

Tom pushes M/n away, “No, we shouldn’t what if-” M/n cuts him off by kissing him again, Tom moaning loudly into his mouth and the other pulls him in closer by his waist. Deepening the kiss, M/n sucks on Tom’s bottom lip causing the other to whimper before diving in for more. 

The kiss quickly becomes heated, the heat around them growing even hotter as they can’t keep their hands off each other. M/n’s hand trails into Tom’s hair, dropping the band holding up his locks causing them to fall over his shoulders, but Tom doesn’t care. He moves close to M/n, almost sitting in his lap as he delved deeper into the kiss. 

Tom has never kissed a guy before, but it is better than he could’ve ever imagined. M/n is skilled with his mouth, the way he licks his lips begging him to open his mouth or the way his studded tongue piercing brushes against Tom's bare one. The coldness of the piercing is shocking at first but slowly growing familiar the more the other explores his mouth. 

Tom definitely didn’t expect to be kissing his best friend tonight, but he also didn’t expect his best friend to go further. 

M/n moves his kisses from his mouth to his jawline then to his neck. Tilting back Tom’s head with only a few fingers, giving Tom the space to move if it is too much. It’s perfect. The way M/n’s tongue laps over his clavicle, bitting a little at the conjunction, pulling a moan from the back of Tom’s throat. 

Tom hates being dominated, but right now it seems fine. He loves the way M/n has him under his control. The way each kiss makes him more dizzy and the more he sucks the harder his cock gets. The more desperate he grows, it’s been a long time since he had a lay, that’s what he’ll blame it on instead of his own unlawful desire for his best friend to use him to fulfill any fantasy. 

M/n’s kisses travel further, pushing Tom down onto the couch the further he goes. His shoulder, his collarbone, his peck, the second M/n puts his nipple into his mouth is the second he knows why all girls love when he does it. M/n swirls his tongue around the bud perfectly, dragging long moans from Tom, the other pressing his dull nails into his shoulders. Desperately trying to pull him closer, the much needed air he needs pulled from him with each lick and bite. 

He doesn’t leave his other nipple abandoned, playing with it between his fingers until the one in his mouth is sore and hard before moving to the one in his hand. M/n does the same thing, swirling it with his tongue, biting it gently with his teeth, but this time he drags his piercing against it causing Tom to flinch at the sudden coldness hitting his already hard nipple. A whimper falls from his mouth, he’s never made noises like these before. Not for anyone. Not when a groupie sucked his dick with so much passion it had him coming undone in mere seconds or when he stuck his dick into someone so tight he was worried he wouldn't fit. Never. 

M/n trails his kisses further down Tom’s torso until he gets to his waistband. Dipping his fingers slightly underneath almost to ask if Tom is okay with it, when Tom thrusted his hips into M/n he took that as his sign that it is okay. Yet, just to be sure, asks Tom anyway. 

“Are you sure you want this Tom?” M/n asks, his fingers staying slightly under his boxers rubbing small circles into Tom’s sensitive skin above his dick. 

“Please. God. M/n please, fuck. Please touch me.” Tom whimpers, thrusting his hips into M/n again trying to build friction. To do anything to help his aching cock. 

M/n smirks, removing his hand, “Where would you like me to touch you Tom?” His hands trail up Tom’s sweaty torso, flicking his nipples eliciting a moan from the other. “Here?” M/n kisses Tom’s neck, sucking a bruise into his skin. When he pulls away he presses his finger into it, knowing it hurts, but just enough that it will have Tom squirming beneath him. “Here?” M/n asks again, receiving a whimper in response. “You’re gonna have to use your words Tom.” M/n trickles his hands back down Tom’s torso before pressing his palm firming onto Tom’s clothed cock. “Or here?” The action causes Tom to jolt and breathe heavier. 

“Fuck please M/n. Touch me everywhere, I don't care. Use me. Touch my cock while you praise me. Please. Fuck. I just need you.” Tom whimpers with his eyes closed and his head thrown back against the pillow resting against the arm rest. M/n is shocked, the response definitely not something he was expecting but something that he loved and would serve with everything he has. 

“Anything for you, baby.” M/n whispers huskily into Tom’s ear. He kisses Tom deeply as he removes his pants Tom struggled with earlier, discarding them into their collective pile of clothes. 

M/n holds onto Tom’s hips before he removes his boxers. Their lips still attached he grabs the waistband and pulls them off Tom, the other slightly helping but ultimately put under his spell only able to lazily lift his hips and kick them off. M/n pulls away from the kiss to remove his own, yet is pulled back into it by Tom, holding his head firmly against his wanting nothing more to devour M/n.

“You're moving too slow, please. I need to feel you.” Tom begs, pulling M/n impossibly closer, pressing their bare cocks together. Both of them groan at the sensation traveling down their spines.

“Stay here, I’ll be right back,” M/n whispers against Tom’s lips before getting up and running to his bag. He grabs what he needs before returning to a naked and desperate Tom. He looks so submissive squirming against the leather of the couch, pulling at his cock and whimpering. 

“What’s that for?” Tom asks, eyeing the lube in M/ns hand. Suddenly M/n is reminded that Tom has never had sex with another guy before. 

“I have to prep you so it doesn’t hurt. This makes it easier.” The simplest explanation M/n could give, Tom just nods, a bit worried. “Don’t worry baby, it won’t hurt. It might be a bit uncomfortable at first but you can tell me whatever you need from me, okay?” Tom nods again, biting his lip as M/n lathers up three fingers with the lube. 

M/n trails kisses from his neck to his hips, kissing each side before taking the tip of Tom's cock into his mouth. Reveling in the way Tom’s breath catches in the back of his throat as he takes him further. The cold stud of his piercing pressed against the underside of Tom’s cock sent electric shocks through his body, if M/n keeps this up he won’t be able to stop himself from coming. 

M/n gently rubs the muscle surrounding Tom’s hole, wanting him to relax as much as possible before he starts to prep him. Once he feels that he is ready, he inserts his index finger, letting Tom get used to the feeling before moving. 

It feels awkward at first, you never imagine yourself with someone else's fingers in your ass. You don't even imagine yourself with your own fingers in your ass, but Tom waits for the awkwardness to leave, mainly distracted by the tongue teasing the head of his cock. It is when M/n inserts a second finger that the sting of being stretched registers. He hisses trying his best to stay relaxed and not force out M/ns fingers. 

M/n releases Tom's cock from his mouth, “Are you okay, baby?” M/n asks, concerned. “Yeah, keep going.” Tom replies, the grimace on his face not leaving until a few seconds later when M/n brushes against something soft inside of him. Tom lets out a loud moan at the pleasure launched through his body and to his cock, surprising himself from the noise he made. 

M/n takes this as a sign to insert a third finger, stretching Tom out as much as he can. 

“I’m ready, please M/n. I need you.” Tom whines, looking M/n directly in the eyes. M/n groans at Tom’s words, his cock jumping in excitement at the thought of bottoming out inside the other. 

He pulls out a condom and is about to undo it when Tom stops him. “Please, I want to feel all of you. We’re both clean, please, M/n.” M/n can’t resist the pleading look on his face as he drops the condom and applies lube to his aching cock, stroking it a few times before angling himself at Tom’s entrance. 

He pushes himself in slowly until he bottoms out, groaning at the grip Tom has around his cock. His hands softly caress Tom's hips, trying to get him to adjust faster. He doesn’t know how long he can take it just sitting with his cock being warmed by Tom. 

“You can move.” M/n almost sighs in relief at Tom’s words as he begins to move slowly in and out of Tom. He leans down to kiss him deeply, picking up speed encouraged by Tom’s blissful sounds. 

“Ahh..Fuck..Faster..” Tom moans, holding onto M/n’s shoulders tightly, digging his nails into the skin. M/n complies moving at a rapid pace, Tom’s head lulls back as M/n hits his prostate over and over. Almost overstimulating him to the point where he can’t control any noises he makes. His whines and whimper can be heard throughout the whole bus. Tom has never been more grateful to turn down his brother's offer of going out tonight.

Tom feels his release building up in his stomach as his legs shake from this hold around M/n’s waist. “Mmm close.” He mumbles, no longer able to kiss M/n through it, his pleasure far too distracting. “Me too.” M/n pants from above him, moving at animalistic speeds, breaking Tom into a million pieces. 

Both of them fall over the edge together, Tom coating the two of them with his come and M/n coating Tom’s insides. M/n huffs in exhaustion falling over Tom to catch his breath before pulling out of Tom. Tom whimpers at the suddenly open space. M/n gets up, leaving Tom confused, but the confusion disappears when he comes back with a towel to clean Tom up and a glass of water. 

“Thank you.” Tom whispers, his voice hoarse. He almost drinks the entire glass in one gulp. 

“We should move to the bedroom in the back before the guys get back.” M/n tells Tom, taking the glass back from him to get him some more water. 

“You’re right.” Tom says, trying to stand up, only to be met by shooting pain up his spine. “Fuck.” His face contorts in pain trying to haul himself to the back of the bus. 

“Hey, be careful. Here let me help you.” M/n grabs Tom and pulls him into his embrace before lifting him and carrying him to the back of the bus and laying him on the bed. “I’ll be back, I’m just going to go and clean up and get you some advil.” Tom nodded in response, too tired to verbally respond. 

A few minutes later M/n returns with a bottle of pills and a larger glass of water. He locks the door behind him and gives Tom the items in his hands before laying on the bed beside him. “Is this okay?” He asks, wrapping his arms around Tom—spooning him. To which Tom responds by turning over in his embrace to further press himself into the warmth. Despite it being hot as balls, he loves the comfort M/n brings and quickly falls asleep in his arms. 

[m3r1m4r5u333]

"Eddie sucks for traumatizing Chris" seems to be a somewhat common fandom reaction and yeah. That really frustrates me.

Like no. Kim is the one who sucks here.

Eddie is certainly many types of fucked up but it should be damn OBVIOUS that psychotherapy is something that trained, licenced professionals provide, and only if it's a consensual relationship.

What is super fucked up is to learn about someone's trauma, grief and vulnerability and your role in it,

then show up uninvited at their doorstep,

and totally ignore them trying to say that they don't consent to this bizarre, unprofessional version of therapy you just randomly decided to cook together without having any educated idea if this gamble pays off,

and just pester them until they crack and have a meltdown in front of you!!

Kim learned of Eddie's vulnerability and trauma and used it. She trampled all over it, played with it, because apparently she is deranged enough to think that being an actor makes her qualified to provide psychotherapy?!

Also, let's maybe remember that she has been dating Eddie and even if she was a professional, having an intimate personal relationship with your patient is a major fucking no-no.

And hey, mind I remind you guys, to provide psychotherapy, in pretty much any developed country, you first receive an university level education - this means years of studies - because it is a demanding job, and messing around with people's brains can just fuck them up more if you don't know what you're doing.

So yeah. It pisses me off that people are blaming Eddie for this clusterfuck because holy fuck. He is the victim here.

Eddie exposed a major vulnerability to Kim, and Kim, the person learning of this vulnerability, had zero respect for his trauma, for his pain, and actually used the power she must have realized she had over Eddie... To crush him to bits.

Uninvited, without his consent, in his own home, fully knowing that she might end up even meeting Eddie's son.

Yes, he invited her in. That is my point - her presence makes him vulnerable, confused. He wasn't thinking clearly.

And Kim knew this. 'You remind me of my dead wife' is a very weird, charged setting for a personal relationship, it obviously can lead to all sorts of issues and power positions.

And she saw that and thought "You know what, I'll just make him confront his pain and spiral in front of me. That seems like a good, not at all fucked up idea.

I know what I'm doing, clearly I'll be his ideal therapist. After all, I am not at all trained to provide therapy, and he is dating me, and I remind him of his dead wife. Yes, this will be great for him. No way is it a totally unnecessary gamble that could end up who knows how!"

Kdjdbbrjjr. I hate her. At best this is super vapid, impulsive thinking. At worst this is a downright malicious abuse of a realised authority over someone who is clearly vulnerable, struggling, and unable to think clearly.

Either way, this idea sucks and if it turns out to help Eddie, it's only due to LUCK because damn, this "therapy session" was like flying a fighter jet drunk into a storm.

[dr-futbol-blog]

Runner, Pt. 5

Ronon seems to have caught on to the fact that Sheppard has been trying to game him with his faux-earnest performance. He doesn't quite know what to make of them but he can tell that Sheppard is a dangerous man. But is he threat?

Dex: But why should I trust you? Sheppard: That's a good question. Teyla, why should he trust us? Teyla: We mean you no harm. We are only here searching for a friend.

Like we have seen him often do when Sheppard has been unable to talk about the utter clusterfuck that had led to the unleashing of the wraith, he turns to Teyla for help, to speak on his behalf. And while Ronon was clearly asking Sheppard personally, he chooses to interpret him as referring to the both of them as though Teyla had any part in what Sheppard had been trying to do here by manipulating this stranger to release them.

Sheppard's response here is very concerning. He can't come up with any reason to trust him because he doesn't think he should be trusted. In this episode, although both Sheppard and McKay pretend to be fine and normal, there are moments when the mask slips for both of them, revealing how miserable they are actually feeling underneath it all. Here, Sheppard makes this into a joke but the truth underneath is that he doesn't think anyone should trust him, ever. McKay certainly seemed to believe he had betrayed his trust, and maybe he had. Maybe he had made promises to him that he hadn't been able to keep when the chips were coming down. Lying came so naturally to him, he had been lying his entire life and much more than anyone else, Sheppard had been lying to himself.

It might be because Ronon is so bereft of human company (or because he's gathering intel about these strangers), but he continues talking to them. Notice how the moment Ronon confirms that Ford is on this planet, there's suddenly an edge to Sheppard's voice. He suddenly needs to get free with much more urgency than before. Before he confirmed this fact, Sheppard seemed to have all the time in the world.

Dex: I saw him. Your friend. Sheppard: Where? When? Dex: He killed the wraith that was hunting me. Sheppard: Hunting you?

And it's not just about Ford, or wanting to get to Ford, that makes him anxious. It's the fact that the last he heard, Lorne and McKay were chasing someone bearing down the opposite direction from them. So they had caught onto something, after all.

Again, a reference is made to friends. Here, Sheppard is given confirmation that Ford is, in fact, on the planet. But because Ford had apparently saved this man, Sheppard makes the assumption that the young soldier has to basically still be himself. He's hopped up on the enzyme but the kid was mostly confused. They could still bring him back.

Because Ronon himself has been hunted for so long, he wants to know if Ford is in a similar situation to himself, and whether he should help the guy out by leaving these two in the cave. This is why he pursues the topic:

Dex: Why are you looking for him? Teyla: His name is Aiden Ford and he is sick. He needs our help. Dex: Thought he'd been in the sun too long. It can make you sick here. Sheppard: We know that, and that may be true, but that's not all that's wrong with him.

Here, Sheppard acknowledges the fact that McKay had been right about the radiation on this planet. In fact, he says "We know that" with such conviction, like it's obvious to him that it is as McKay had said. For him, it was never a question of not believing him. He trusted McKay to be right about most things. He was keeping a running tally of things McKay had been right about. For him, it was partly that he was being contrarian just because bickering with McKay was the only way he knew how to get close to him in their current situation. Sure, the snide remarks hurt, both giving and receiving them, but not being in contact with McKay at all would have hurt more. He would take what ever he could get.

But the other, more concerning part, was that he just didn't care. When they were... involved, we saw Sheppard avoid taking risks and steer clear of reckless behaviour unless McKay's safety was at stake. He was in love, and in order to be there for his beloved, he took good care of himself; he watched out where he was going. Now, he lacks that incentive. He is so deeply unhappy that he doesn't really care what happens to him. Even here, talking with Ronon, he is being much more careless than he was in the past.

Dex: Then why is he running from you? Sheppard: Well, he's not, exactly. Dex: Then what is he doing, exactly? Sheppard: It's complicated. Dex: You can do better than that.

Here, Sheppard says that he doesn't think Ford is running away from them. That's what he wishes were true. Ford hadn't walked out on him, he was just addicted to the enzyme and had to go out to find more of it. If they only got to him, if he could only talk to him, everything would be alright. If he got Ford to come back with them maybe everything would go back to normal. And if everything went back to normal, maybe everything would be alright. It would prove that he didn't destroy everything he touched or came in contact with, that he could love someone without damning them, that there was enough good in him for someone to want to stand next to him. Maybe he and McKay would find their way back to each other. He had a lot riding on getting Ford to come back home.

Note the use of the phrase "it's complicated" here. This is an ironic way people sometimes describe their intimate relationships. Their relationship status is "it's complicated". While the business with Ford certainly is complicated, Sheppard's relationship with McKay is definitely also in the "it's complicated" stage.

It's so complicated, in fact, that outsiders like Lorne have no way of understanding what's going on between them. It's a mess. They're both lost in the deep dark woods unable to find their way back to each other (or, McKay is wading aimlessly in the woods unable to find his way back home where Sheppard has his hands tied, stuck inside the dark dank cave of his mind, metaphorically). Ronon tells Sheppard that he can do better, meaning that he's going to need more information about Ford. But at the same time, Sheppard definitely could do better with regards to McKay. While Ronon is the eponymous Runner of the episode, we do see both Sheppard and McKay run. They are both trying to outrun their own feelings. And so far, it's still working.

Sheppard decides to tell Ronon the truth about Ford since it seems like Ronon isn't really that curious about the young soldier, he's only trying to figure out why he's being hunted by them. Possibly because he has been hunted himself for such a long time, he has some solidarity for anyone else on the lam. And from what Sheppard tells him, it seems like this Ford person is also a victim to the wraith. At the same time, they do both seem sincere about being worried for their friend. Still, he's not quite ready to take their word for it and let them go.

Sheppard's radio goes off with static probably from Lorne attempting to contact him, and as Sheppard explains to Ronon what the things are and that the cave is probably causing some interference, the man steps to take the radios outside. Left to their own devices, this gives Sheppard and Teyla an opportunity to try and escape, and Teyla seizes the moment. Sheppard, however, seems to think she's doing something else entirely.

Sheppard: What the hell are you doing?! Teyla: Getting my hand free. Sheppard: Doesn't feel that way!

This scene is again played for comedy. Sheppard feels like Teyla is grabbing his ass while she's trying to wiggle out of the ropes, hilarious. Sheppard himself makes it into a joke. Only, there are a few things going on here. First, Sheppard's tone when he asks what the hell she's doing is pretty ill-tempered. His reaction to her hand on his ass is to quickly lash out at her. Now, again your average Joe Viewer is going to take this as thinly veiled homophobia. Dude doesn't like his ass touched. "Exit only," amirite? Only, what we actually witness here is that he does not like his ass touched by a woman, or a friend, or in this context. His response to Teyla, that it didn't feel that way, tells us that he has, in fact, felt this before. This feeling is familiar to him. He knows what someone grabbing his ass with purpose feels like. At the end here, his mind seems to wonder to other times his has been touched in a similar way and he really doesn't seem to mind, that. The way he goes slack is actually somewhat concerning, and I'll circle back to this toward the end of the season. There's something about the advances from women and Sheppard seeming to think his consent doesn't factor into it that starts forming a pattern.

Now, of course it could be that he's had his ass grabbed by women in particular, in the past. In fact, in his youth he probably did (and there may be an actual reason why he would react to a woman grabbing his ass out of the blue with as much and as immediate hostility as he seems to, here; he seems triggered). But it is interesting that his male body is sexualized here in that male gaze way, like Marty Mcfly in Back to the Future. He is objectified. We are invited to look on at his reaction as someone grabs his ass, and we are lead to believe it is not the first time this has happened to him. That he is familiar with this feeling, that he might enjoy it in some other context. In the same episode in which we learned that McKay knows how to make his own lube. It's interesting, very very curious. Like maybe there is a connection here.

So while this is taking place in the cave, Sheppard's "it's complicated" is wading through the forest in a rubber suit looking for him, and Lorne seems to be growing both increasingly impatient and increasingly hostile toward McKay.

McKay: It's so hot! Lorne: Oh, come on. Step it up, McKay, wouldya? McKay: I am moving as fast as I can. I'm very hot. Aren't you hot? Lorne: Actually, I'm quite comfortable, but I'm not wearing a fifty pound rubber suit, am I? McKay: I can't breathe! I've got to stop! ...Sweet relief! I think the, the fumes from the sunblock are making me dizzy. I gotta... I gotta... just rest here. Lorne: Unbelievable!

He's not even bothering to hide his disdain and it's only due to McKay's limited people skills that he hasn't caught up with it yet. And when we contrast Lorne with Sheppard, he never treated McKay like this. Even now, when they are both making digs at each other, it is very differently motivated.

For Sheppard, it has never been because he doesn't like McKay. McKay is his favourite person. Sheppard had once ambled two miles in a rubber suit to kill a man just because McKay needed this man stopped. Lorne thinks that he's on baby-sitting duty and the big baby is slowing him down. He sees McKay as a pencil-pusher that shouldn't be anywhere near the field, and fails to understand that this--complaining about how he's physically uncomfortable--is a trauma response. It's somatization, focusing disproportionately on physical ailments instead of the emotional impact of the traumatic event. Instead of thinking about Sheppard and what might have happened to him and how long they've been out of contact with him, McKay focuses on the fact that he can't breathe, he feels dizzy. McKay is displaying very obvious signs of dissociation here.

Fact is, McKay wants to find Sheppard much more than Lorne does. He cares about Sheppard in ways that Lorne could never, that Lorne could never even begin to understand. For Lorne, it's his new CO that is missing. For McKay, it's the most important person in his life bar none, regardless of how we interpret their relationship. And McKay can't deal with not knowing what has happened to him. He just can't deal with this.

Continued in Pt. 6

[piratewithvigor]

Let me give a mini recap of the Elimination Chamber 2025 ending for any mutuals who have not been keeping up

Key details:

Cena is back for his last year of being a wrestler, doing a victory tour basically where he'll be at every PPV and be the top face

He did not win a Mania main event at the Royal Rumble, so decided to take part in Elimination Chamber as his final chance to get a title match and become the most-crowned champion in WWE history

The Rock is on the board of directors for TKO, WWE's parent company, making him very high management

Cody Rhodes is currently champion and Rock requested that Cody sell him his soul. Tonight, we find out Cody's response

The stage is now set

The Men's Chamber match has just ended. A wonderful 6-way bout that tied together multiple storylines and allowed for CM Punk to become the greatest hero the world has ever known for a few short moments when he eliminated L*gan Fuckface P*ul. With a cheap shot from an already-eliminated Seth Rollins, Cena knocks out Punk in a submission hold and is declared the winner. A wonderful moment for Cena in his final Canadian PPV

It's been a grueling evening after that Chamber, the preceding Chamber and an Unsanctioned Kevin Owens/Sami Zayn streetfight (and also some Nia Jax clusterfuck that happened). The audience is spent. I'm spent. The final segment of the night is Cody's response.

The instant the cage is up, with Cena still standing victorious, Cody's music hits and he does his regular triumphant entrance, adorned with not one but two golden timepieces. He uses neither to be timely with his entrance.

He is also wearing a flasher coat that I guessed would be used like Taker did before Survivor Series 93 to announce what team he'd be on. I guessed wrong; it was just a coat. Cody's got a nice but ordinary gray suit underneath and his belt. Cena welcomes him to the ring warmly and respectfully, holding open the ropes and everything.

"CAN YOU SMELLLLLLL" the moment is short-lived and interrupted by the Rock. Except it isn't him. It's a small man I first assume to be the Miz, fucking with us. I am wrong again; it is Travis Scott and he is continually sipping from a can I assume is alcohol. He is not looking sober. He is followed by The Rock, who seems to have stolen his outfit from ABBA, what with the bell bottoms and sparkly vest. The crowning glory are his glasses. They're terrible.

The Rock is also not speedy to the ring, nor is his sidekick. I realize at this point that I don't know why Travis Scott is famous, nor do I care. They both enter the ring and Travis settles into the corner.

Rock recaps his offer. "I want your mind, I want your body, I want your soul" A What chant begins. I find myself joining along. Not because of the spirit of the chant and a desire to humiliate and undermine wrestlers but because I am genuinely confused. Travis Scott is in the corner, smoking a pipe. Commentary says he's burning sage. It's not sage.

"Say no and the dream dies... again" The audience doesn't get it. I get it. Everyone who knows about Cody's daddy issues gets it.

"I cannot give you my soul," Cody begins.

"Because I gave it to the audience," I finish.

"Because I gave it to the ring a long time ago... and to these people!" Cody corrects. My apologies; I forgot the ring. Travis Scott takes another hit off his pipe. It's bright yellow and not easily hidden.

"Rock, go FUCK yourself" There. Now he's done. The crowd pops hugely. He said the F word.

Cody hugs Cena. He is facing away from Rock. Rock slides a hand across his throat in a very clumsy 'kill him' gesture. Cena does. In the middle of that ring, he literally turns heel and kills Cody as best he can with his bare hands. Then he takes the championship belt and bashes him in the face, busting Cody open a little (a lot by WWE standards, but I know what Cody's capable of). He's hit so many times. Then his shirt is pulled open to reveal his Dream titty tattoo and blood is smeared everywhere. Someone chokes him with his own tie. Travis is still smoking in the corner.

Laying on his front, back exposed, Rock is holding a white weightlifting belt emblazoned with 'Cody's Soul' and begins whipping him. Cody's taking it much better than he did 5 years ago. Or maybe he's more unconscious. Rock kneels down and smears Cody's forehead blood onto the belt and waltzes off with Cena who is now Evil!Cena and Travis Scott, who is still "burning sage" according to commentary.

Cody's bruised and bloodied face is all we see as we fade to black